Saturday, December 28, 2019

History 191228

      I fancy myself as a World War Two history buff.



      I have read every book and watched every documentary I could find about the war. My dad, my uncle Kenny, Joyce's father and uncle William are all veterans of that war. They never spoke much about the war, but I learned a lot from others who knew them and served with them.

      I had dad's old army footlocker and used to pour over the contents of it. I was fascinated with everything in it. Dad was an artillery man in Patton's army and I can only assume he traveled with Patton to the battle of the bulge; though he never spoke of it, he was serving with Patton at the time.

      My uncle Kenny gave me a Japanese sniper's rifle, much to my mother's horror. He assured mom that he had removed the firing pin. He was in Carlson's raider battalion, and one time when he was drunk (which happened a lot) I asked him about the war. All he said was, "you don't want to know what it is like to slit the throat of an enemy soldier." The raiders did a lot of that to strike fear in Japanese soldiers on pacific islands.

      Joyce's dad spoke briefly about his time in the navy, not about when his ship was sunk, but about Little Creek, Virginia. He was training there as a diesel mechanic during the early part of the war. He said it was so bad there that even the Chaplin went AWOL. His ship was commissioned in February of 1943 and sunk off New Britain in the south pacific the day after Christmas on 1943. His normal job was a boiler tender and fireman except during battle stations he was in the auxiliary diesel engine compartment because he was the only diesel mechanic on board. That saved his life when the ship was sunk because almost all of those in the boiler room were instantly killed. One thing he did mention was the night before he was in a poker game and won $800, a lot of money considering sailors were making about $50 a month back then.

      Joyce's uncle William was an air gunner on a B-25 and was shot up by flack over Munich, Germany in 1944. The plane limped back toward Italy, but with engines knocked out there was not enough power to climb over the alps mountains so they had to bail out into a heavy snow packed range. He was captured by Germans within hours and spent a year in a prison camp.

      I often wonder how I would have fared during that war? Had Joyce and I been old enough to be dating or married and I would have had to say goodbye to her not knowing for how long I would be gone or if I would ever return, would have been extremely difficult. It was bad enough saying goodbye when I was in the navy and knew how long it would before I returned. I never gave it a thought about possibly getting killed, although it could have easily happened many times. I had four close calls that I can think of right off the top of my head. I suppose I was just lucky.

Copyright Bill Weber 2006-2019 and beyond.

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