VARSITY CONTINUED
Soldier Boy- Soisson-le-Petite camp March 1945 The leather jacket was
not standard army issue but was an airforce flight jacket that I as an
officer was issued when I joined the division. Shortly thereafter no
more were issued to infantry officers.

To
recapitulate after landing. Koller had started the jeep as soon as we
came to a stop. The jeep was attached by rope to the nose release and as
soon as it moved forward the nose lifted up and we were able to drive
out. The pilots were out of sight. If they had been in the cockpit they
would have been lifted up with the nose segment.
We drove the
Jeep out of the glider over to the other glider with the trailer. The
nose of that glider was resting in the plowed field and we had
difficultly lifting the nose to pull the out trailer. While we were
occupied, a German soldier came out of the woods dangling aluminum
anti-radar foil from upraised hands.
I could not be sure that he
wished to surrender. I told my men to scatter. To my dying day I will be
convinced that they all seven "scattered" in a straight line behind me.
Probably the only time that they thought that the Captain would protect
them. However, the German was a youngster who was overwhelmed by the
airborne assaults and had had enough of the war.
We had no idea
where we were. Nothing resembled what I had studied on the aerial photo
maps. I showed the German where we wanted to be. He pointed out where we
were; on the wrong side of the canal. He agreed to lead us to the canal
and to a crossing near the farmhouse. Being lazy, I “permitted” him to
carry my heavy medical bag and field pack. With my “prisoner" as guide
we took off in file, the jeep towing the trailer, supposedly in the
direction of the Issel canal.
We reached what look like an
overgrown brook and followed a dirt road on the bank for a short
distance. Suddenly, we noticed American soldiers lying prone sheltered
by the canal's near bank. It was our A Company whose Captain yelled out
“Doc get down. We are in the midst of a fire fight”.
However, we
had heard no shots, so we went down the bank, waded across the ankle
high "canal" and up the other side while Koller drove the Jeep and
trailer over a little bridge. We soon reached our destination, a
farmhouse that had been designated for use as our aid station. Irby was
already there with the other half of the aid station.
Even
though it was spring, the large fields surrounding the farmhouse were
filled with haystacks. For several days, we kept unexpectedly flushing
out German soldiers who had hidden in those haystacks. They were hungry,
scared, but happy to be alive, and wanted to surrender. A few had even
hidden in the farmhouse attic which supposedly we had searched upon
occupying the house.
One day one of our men went to the attic
with a comrade. He saw a German soldier's hat behind a trunk and thought
he would scare his friend. He yelled "Achtung"; to his amazement, the
hat began to rise and there was a German ready to give up. Needless to
say, that for all of us, each episode was a shock and surprise.
In
the afternoon of day one, there was an air re-supply mission. The
planes were Liberators. They flew very low just above the tree tops.
Unfettered, the crew pushed the supplies out of an opened door. As they
flew over, unfortunately, one of the men fell out of his plane. Our
re-supply included British plasma as well as dehydrated British tea with
milk. We did not like the tea, and did not have the equipment to use
their plasma. One cannot help but admire the men who flew such a
hazardous mission.
Five or six days later, a British Commando
unit relieved us. We had not touched the chickens that were running
around but it took them about five minutes to “police (cleanup) the
yard”. We mutually agreed to celebrate our Anglo-American unity with a
drink. Their captain refused our offer of our medicinal Old Grand Dad
bourbon. Instead, he insisted on their “Teachers” Scotch. “The real
stuff that you Yanks don’t get in the States”. All we could find in the
house were water glasses. My colleague, Irby, suggested that I do the
honors while he remained sober.
After repeated toasts with
refilled glasses, I felt no pain. That was my second and last “bombed”
episode in Europe. Unfortunately, I had to ride in the Jeep
cross-country to where the regiment was repositioning to attack across
Westphalia.
Another view of a glider at Wessel, all istruments had been stripped for reuse.

Not a good landing

This
is the waterway we were to capture and secure the bridges over it. The
road on the left bank is where we traveled to reach A company's
position. We were lucky!

The barn complex of the farm which was our aid station.

This was a C46