WWII Snippets

My father was a great story teller. He didn’t begin telling stories about his war experiences until later in his life. Some of his stories really stuck in my memory. I believe he “embellished” some to make them more interesting or entertaining to his “audience.” So as I relate these stories, please excuse me if they don’t seem entirely accurate. 

While still stationed in the States at Ford Ord, my newly-married parents tried to see one another as often as possible. My dad even went AWOL to see my mother, never getting caught. One time, my mother visited him at the Fort. They sneaked into the boiler room where they made love. Although my mother verified this particular story, it is difficult to picture her, a rather conservative woman, taking such a chance. However, I am not at all surprised that my dad would have done this. They were fortunate not to have been caught.

My dad served in the 30th Infantry Division, 3rd Division, H Company. His company was under General Patton. He served in Sicily (Messina) and North Africa in Tunisia, Casablanca, and Algiers as a company runner, assistant to the captain.

At one time, the troops completely ran out of ammunition. My dad went with the captain to see General Patton to request more ammunition. In typical Patton style, he responded by saying, "The sons of bitches have bayonets, don't they?"

Once, after a long battle, the troops went to a rest area. When an air raid sounded, everyone jumped into nearby fox holes. Immediately after landing in a fox hole, another soldier jumped over my dad, losing his helmet as he jumped. The helmet hit my dad, and for a moment, he thought he'd been shot.

I wrote this down word for word when my dad told it to me… "We used our helmets for everything - to eat out of, to shave, and as a toilet." Lovely thought. The soldiers used sanitary napkins as padding to ease the burden of carrying heavy rifles.

While serving in North Africa, my father discovered a nearby Jewish community. Being Jewish himself, during “down time,” he visited the community and met people who invited him to visit their homes and celebrate holidays. The people he befriended there remained lifelong friends, exchanging letters, birthday cards, etc. throughout their lives.

While my dad was walking a donkey in Morocco, the donkey stepped on a hidden land mine, which exploded, throwing my father through the air. He sustained some permanent injuries from the incident.

In April 1943, in French Morocco, on Hill 609, the Allied Forces were pinned down battling the Germans, fighting for weeks. My dad was in a fox hole when a shell landed and exploded next to his head. He was in and out of consciousness for days and temporarily deaf in one ear. He was transferred to a hospital in Rabat, North Africa, and then to a hospital in the States where he remained for months, being treated for battle fatigue (today commonly called Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome) and amnesia. 

He was honorably discharged a short time later, returning to live in Hollywood, California. His condition lasted for months, and he was occasionally found wandering down Hollywood Boulevard, unable to find his way home.

I learned from the National Personnel Records that most of my dad’s army records were burned in a fire in the early 1970’s. Wondering why, after two serious injuries, he was never awarded the Purple Heart, I ask a friend, a retired Army Major. He told me that during WWII, superior officers were often either incompetent & lazy or simply didn't have the time to complete the required paperwork. If we had proof of the injuries, we could apply for them now, but of course, I have no way to prove the stories told to me. 

Reading history books about WWII makes it seem like ancient history. Hearing the stories from someone who lived it brings them to life.

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