Before 'Special Snowflakes' and participation trophies.
As a young boy though, they seemed common men who behaved as if they had experienced an ordinary rite of passage. My most often contact started about age nine when my dad began taking me out golfing on the weekends. There was a man who used the first golf cart I ever saw, because as a brigade commander of the 41th infantry in New Guinea he was permanently debilitated by sickness. I remember one fairly good golfer who had kind of a weird back swing. I found out he was crippled while serving with the Big Red One in Sicily. My Economics professor in college served with one of the first UDT teams clearing barricades and mines in the surf zone before Pacific landings. I often ended up as a dishwasher at Michelbook Country Club and noticed the chef always limped as he moved around the kitchen. He saw my puzzled look, and said he got the limp from a wound received when he was with the Rangers at Pointe De Hoc. Those are just a few of the stories I remember among so many others I could tell or have forgotten.
I remain amazed how certain infantry divisions could be chosen repeatedly for initial assaults where they incurred terrible casualties. The corps and army commanders had favorites and somehow division staffs responded to reconstitute and retrain the rifle platoons every few weeks without losing the quality of the assault forces. It seems other divisions were usually sent to less active sectors, entered combat later in time, or occupied a flank in an attack. Again, these were the most ordinary of men, so I keep hearing Aaron Copland’s Fanfare for the Common Man as I read the narratives for this essay.
This is absolutely wonderful.
A bit off topic.
My father was a Sherman tank driver for Patton. When he finally talked about the war itself, it was simply a matter of fact. But, it was a lesson I learned the history books are not always right, and many times they whitewash what really happened.
He passed in 2010, I have his locker, and it’s a fantastic treasure trove of this traumatic yet important chapter of his life. Letters, photographs, ration books, etc.
I graduated from high school after the draft ended, but felt compelled to serve in the military for this country. I felt compelled because I love this country and my dad. I have little respect for people of my age or younger who never served. I imagine a huge percentage of gentlemen on FR have served. and thanks to you.
Thanks so much Mike, for sharing this with us. My Dad is still kicking at age 99. I’m taking to the Vet’s Parade later today. He served in the Pacific Theater.
Before 'Special Snowflakes' and participation trophies.
God Bless my fellow Grunts!!!
The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner
From my mother’s sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
— Randall Jarrell
Miss you, Dad.
Dad hit Omaha Beach in 1944, wounded, Purple Heart. Died in 1990 after VA medicos missed his cancer too long and he went terminal.
Was proud to follow him as an 11Bravo in 1966, 101st Airborne then 199th Light Infantry AirMobile, Tet 1968.
Infantry rules!
I don’t have the figures in front of me, but the US Army Ground Forces were very short of divisions at the end of the war. Conversely IIRC we had excess aviation units.
At the beginning of the war the army guessed wrong on how many of each they would need.
Thanks for posting.
Dad was in the 27th ID. Fought at Saipan and was wounded at Okinawa. He’ll never be forgotten....