Before I get into Dad's story, I'll share a little of him from a child's perspective...

One of the first things I must have learned when I was young (I can't remember ever learning it...I can just remember always knowing it!!!) was that you DID NOT wake up Dad by touching him. If you did, you were likely to get sent flying because he reacted defensively - automatically. (I doubt it ever occurred...but I can remember well seeing him wake up IMMEDIATELY with a jump when spoken to!)

Dad didn't talk to us much about his combat experiences. In fact, he didn't talk much about himself at all! About the only way we (my sister, Jeannie May & I) learned things was when his brothers and sisters would visit. They'd sit around reminiscing about this and that and we'd just sit there listening...learning all of those neat things kids learn about their parents...that their parents wish they didn't!!!

I grew up watching movies about World War Two as well as Combat! when it came on TV. I don't believe I was able to watch ANY of the movies or Combat! shows without "having to" listen to my Dad interject his comments about the accuracy of the events or actions of the actors. Actually, I don't remember it bothering me. Today, I do the same thing myself! I'm not sure if I "learned" it from him, or it's just in my blood!!!

Dad was drafted after the United States of America entered World War II. He started basic training on 18 January 1943 at Camp Hood in Texas. After the 13 weeks there, he went on to Pennsylvania to await his assignment overseas.

On August 9, 1944, Germans occupied the ground below us. We watched them for a while and fired at them. The next morning a young lieutenant and three other men came and I was to take them to where the enemy was. What we didn't know was that the enemy had moved in the night and advanced on us. There was a heavy fog, and we didn't know that the fog was about two or three feet off the ground and the Germans were laying down in positions. They could see our feet coming down the road. The next thing I knew, they opened up on us. I thought a truck had back-fired...next thing I knew, I was lying in a ditch.

So I laid there for a few minutes and realized "that wasn't no truck. Somebody shot me." So I started falling down the ditch to rejoin the people with me on the patrol. I get to the culvert and I started to crawl out because I couldn't go through; it was too small. I crawled over the top...they shot me again. And this time, they knocked me out because I laid there for a little while and I could hear sound going on around me.

I laid there on this grass with my nose down and I thought, "I'm in a bunch of tall trees." That's how much I was shocked by being hit right on the spine. The guys spoke up and I told them to "get out, you can't do anything for me." At that point, the firing started again and one of the kids got killed; three of them got away. In the meantime, a German pointed a gun at me and said "comrade." I responded by saying "comrade." A lot of people say that's pretty cowardly, but if you're looking at the business end of a gun, and there's a finger on the trigger...

The Germans took me back to their command post. Later, they brought my weapon back; and the stock to that [censored] weapon was totally shattered. It was a machine pistol they were waving at me -- fired about 600 rounds a minute. I heard it had 900 rounds a minute, but I don't think it fired that fast. I thank God I had my weapon at high port or I'd have been dead.

At that point, they put my field dressing on me and also one of their own, and put me in the front seat of a car. In the back was a German that was shot through the head by the American kid that got killed. We had a guy riding the bumper, an Austrian, and a Red Cross flag on the car. The guy driving the car was a Russian. I figure one of those guys that had been captured and decided to work with the Germans.

We rode the car back to an aid station and there they cut two bullets out of me...one on the inside of the ribcage and one on the outside. They didn't know about the one in my shoulder. Then they laid me back down and the next thing I knew a guy came through and gave me a ration; German chocolate, cigarettes, and cigar. I was bleeding internally and, if you've ever tried to eat chocolate like that, you know it don't work very good. I ended up not really enjoying my chocolate but I did manage to eat it all. The next thing I can remember was a Frenchman standing there, giving me the vistory sign. When you're laying on a stretcher, doped up, you don't know whether to try and escape then or wait. Before I even throught about what I should do, they came along, took my stretcher, and put me in the top rack of their ambulance. That's the best place to ride because if a guy's bleeding real bad, it'll run down on you or, if he urinates, it'll drip down.

They hauled us into Paris and we went to a hospital, the Ortslazarett de la Pitie Boulevard de Hospital. I was wounded on the 10th and I arrived there on the 11th, early in the morning.

That day, I wrote a letter to my mother that I thought they would mail out. They didn't get around to it. An American nurse must have sent it later because mother got the letter about three months later. On the first day, they gave us a piece of paper to write a letter. The reason they did that -- they wanted to know if we would spill anything that would be of value to them. The other thing they did offer was to put us on radio to let our side know we were prisoners of war. As far as I know, no Americans accepted that. This is the start to break you down. Anything they can do to be nice to you, to use as a wedge later. We all took the peice of paper, we all said that they treated us okay, and we all sent the letter. As I said, mine was to my mother.

On August 17th, they started to evacuate us. We marched downstairs and were put on a big bus and taken to the railroad yard. That night, we were crammed in boxcars and on the 18th, all [censored] broke loose. They let one car out at a time and it was our turn. We were outside when all of a sudden a locomotive up the road blew up. The French Forces Interior had staged some kind of an attack. At that point, I started crawling down underneath the railroad. I crawled about half the distance of the train when all of a sudden, a pair of jack boots were staring me in the face. I crawled out and noticed it was a Frenchman. He hauled me right out of that train station, right through Germans and everything, to a manhold. We went underground for a short distance then came back up at the Hospital St. Samone. There, I was put back in the hospital.

On the 25th, the French finally got me into Paris, and on September 1, I was evacuated and admitted to the 30th General Hospital. There I recouperated and was finally released on October 21, 1944.

The Germans were not all bad. The SS were trained to be Hitler's elite people and they believed what Hitler believed. The common soldier didn't believe in what Hitler was doing. He was only fighting to save his [censored]. It was either that or go to a concentration camp.

I was a young guy and I thought it was great and exciting to go to war. I wanted to go to war. After I got in war, I didn't want no war anymore. It don't take you very long to lose the excitement of doing something that is very dangerous.

The above story of Dad's was taken during an interivew by Bill Wheat and published in the 21 September 1989 issue of the Ranger. Because I believe newspapers are copywrited, I did not quote any material other than the words my father spoke. If Mr. Wheat or anyone knowing of or knowing him reads this, and a link can be established between this page and him, I would be glad to do so. Same thing with the Ranger.

Apart from a couple of attempts using Microsoft Word's HTML Add-on (Internet Assistant), all Text on my Site was prepared in MS Word with some HTML codes inserted using the Find & Replace Function, with the rest of the HTML conversion done using HTML Writer (not yet registered, but will be soon!) created by Kris Nosack. The Graphics on this Wing were created using Art from CDs from Corel, Serif, and Publisher's TASK FORCE by New Vision Technologies, Inc, and prepared in Corel's Draw& PhotoPaint, and GIF Editor (not registered yet, but will be soon!) created by Alchemy Mindworks, Inc.

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