My father was with Patton’s Third Army...
a real warrior among the finest warriors
Then there’s one thing you men will be able to say when this war is over and you get back home. Thirty years from now when you’re sitting by your fireside with your grandson on your knee and he asks, ‘What did you do in the great World War Two?’ You won’t have to cough and say, ‘Well, your granddaddy shoveled shit in Louisiana.’ No sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say ‘Son, your granddaddy rode with the great Third Army and a son-of-a-goddamned-bitch named George Patton!’
All right, you sons of bitches. You know how I feel. I’ll be proud to lead you wonderful guys in battle anytime, anywhere. That’s all.
My Dad was in a foxhole on the outskirts of Bastgone when Patton arrived. All Dad would ever talk about was how terribly cold it was. (He was severely wounded several weeks later near Noville).
So was my Dad.
Platoon Sergeant,
3rd Army Corps (Patton’s Armored),
101st Combat Engineers,
26th Infantry “Yankee” Division, thru
Central Europe, Northern France, Rhineland & Ardennes.
Wow. Kudos to your dad. According to a magazine which I used to read in the 90’s, the Third Army was the greatest army in history as they captured and defeated more enemies in a short span. A well oiled machine led by Patton