One Man’s War – Chapter 1 – The Winds of War

For those of us who served in the Infantry during World War II, there were periods of terror, boredom, friendship, challenge, physical suffering, learning, survival, religious experiences, horror, chances for leadership, support from home, patriotism, luck, and getting to understand oneself. I would like to share my personal experiences and show how they related to these aspects of war as the Infantryman experienced them.

My exposure to war began In 1939 although I was not totally aware of what I was experiencing at the time. My family had travelled to Europe starting with my sister, Betty, who took a semester from Wellesley in 1937 to attend Heidelberg University. Her stories of an emerging Nazi nation were sobering and gave our family a more personal insight into Adolf Hitler and his plans and the attitude and support of an average German family such as the one with which she was staying. My brother and I were active in Boy Scouts and he was chosen to attend the World Jamboree in Vollendam, Holland in 1938 where he turned into a quite a trader who came home with a Turkish fez, Scotch kilt, German knife, many pins and badges, and the experience of meeting Scouts from all over the world. My father was an electrical engineer and inventor working with sub-micron sized dust precipitation. In 1938 he went to Paris to work on some patent issues. That left Mother and me as the only family members who had not gone to Europe and so in 1939 we found ourselves booked on the steamer Lafayette headed for England.

After touring England, we sailed to Scandinavia including Sweden, and Denmark where we had relatives, and finally took the boat train from Copenhagen to Schweinemunde, Germany, on the Baltic Coast. As we disembarked from the ferry, I had my first direct exposure to the Nazis. Standing at the gate were two very evil-looking men dressed in long black leather coats and black hats. As a fourteen year old American I had no reason to have strong preconceived notions about the Gestapo but I remember shuddering as I first caught sight of them and feeling the hair on the back of my neck prickle. Mother and I were careful not to express any opinions until we were far away. This was not the only experience I had with the Gestapo, but more on that later.

Our final destination of the trip in Europe was the City-State of Bremen which was a charming collection of very old houses, beautiful Cathedrals, canals, an impressive city hall, and a bustling commercial section. Distracting our attention away from the architectural beauty was the overwhelming presence of German soldiers, sailors, airmen, and Hitler Youth. The girls had legs like tree trunks and they all looked very serious. As a teen-age boy, all I knew was that I didn’t want to arm wrestle with them. The boys were in excellent physical shape as well, a testament to many hours of physical training and activity.

The weather was balmy and pleasant and we took a bus ride around the inner city sitting on the upper deck of a bus to get a better view. As we sat there pointing out places of interest to each other, the man sitting behind us leaned forward between us and in a low, urgent voice asked us to get off at the next stop as he had something very important to ask of us. Mother had been a head nurse at Johns Hopkins and very few things unnerved her so we got off and went to a sidewalk café where we sat at a small table and ordered fruit drinks.

The man began the conversation by indicating that he was Jewish and did not expect to be alive very much longer. That certainly caught the attention of both of us and he went on to ask if we had heard of extermination camps. We admitted we had not and he explained that Jews were being “rounded up” and sent away never to be heard from again. He then got to the point of his request which was to have Mother write a letter to his two sisters, who lived in Florida, when we returned home. He wrote their address for us on a piece of paper and said he would understand if we did not want to take the risk. He explained that his mail was being intercepted and he wanted to let his sisters know that he was thinking of them before he was killed. We were shocked into silence but Mother finally assured him that the letter would be mailed to his sisters and the man got up and walked away. Mother corresponded with the two sisters until they wrote back later that the mail to their brother was being returned with “Addressee Unbekannt” (address unknown) stamped on the envelope. It would be five years before the world learned of the Holocaust and more than sixty years before the Muslims proclaimed it was all a hoax.

The trip made quite an impact on me. I had a chance to sail on steamers, ride on railways that were fast, clean, and convenient, and see major cities and landscapes that were far different from New England. The food was an experience unto itself ranging from the Danish smorgasbord to German pastries. No one offered to let me learn about wine and beer so that was left for another time. I was not shy and took advantage of every opportunity to talk with English, Swedish, Danish, French, and Germans. English was taught as a second language throughout much of Europe so conversation was not a problem. I came back to enter high school and always had subjects for any English paper I needed to write. The only down-side of my trip was the exposure to Ugly Americans who shouted in Cathedrals, swung on tapestries, complained about the food, and called attention to themselves far too often.

I entered Harvard College in 1941 to major in Bio-Chemistry with the expectation of becoming a doctor. My Mother’s nursing background and her very strong interest in her children’s education resulted in a daughter at Wellesley, one son at Annapolis, and one son at Harvard. I think she was determined to have a doctor in the family but the war was to derail her plans. I struggled through Freshman year in a state of shock. Being away from home, discovering liquor and the attraction of young women plus being on two Freshman varsity teams, took its toll on my study time I had graduated from Newton High School, one of the better high schools in the country, on the Honor Roll, president of three clubs, Sports editor of the school newspaper and editor of the Year Book, and here I was struggling to maintain decent grades. By mid term in my sophomore year in early 1943. I was ready for a break and to volunteer for military service.

When I left I did take a number of important things from college: one was ROTC training, another was three semesters of German. They both came in handy later on. I also had enough world history and college had awakened a strong sense of curiosity. There were times ahead when I wish I didn’t have so much curiosity. 1943 was not a good year for the Allies with German submarines sinking ships in the Atlantic at a dizzying rate. True, we had Guadalcanal and North Africa to offset earlier Allied losses but young men of my age were becoming anxious to enlist and help win the war that was threatening the whole world. My family was not isolationist but a percentage of Americans were until after Pearl Harbor. So I went to the Boston Army Base for a physical but my eyes were 20/25 from too much studying and naval aviation was out. I had done some skiing and the 10^th Mountain Division was forming so I volunteered for that only to be told that I had to join the Infantry first. I did and then they told me the quota was filled up and I was to stay in the Infantry. As I was finishing up, the loudspeaker called my name and the message told me to go to the front office where I was instructed to go home immediately. It was a mystery until I walked in the front door and my mother handed me the telegram that said my brother’s submarine, the Triton, had been lost near Rabaul, in the South Pacific. With my son now in Iraq for the second time, I can only begin to understand and marvel at the inner strength my parents showed in supporting the war effort.

The next step in my emerging military career was Basic Training where a whole new life was about to begin.