ON TO THE REAL WAR

I have digressed from my UVa saga because at a request for information about the 17^th AB I had dug up material which I had written 12 years ago. Over the years I have from time to time posted segments and I did so yesterday the first part of the “Bulge” incident. There are three more segments of which one I will post daily.

Since this is easy stuff to edit; I shall also supplement "prn" with potpourri containing issues I feel need to be posted.

To continue my story:

On Jan 3^rd we were to move up to the front lines.  The German advance had been stopped and supposedly the Bastogne highway had been reopened by Patton's troops. However, there was still a great deal of anxiety regarding German soldiers in American uniforms. The GIs were often using improvised impromptu pass words based on American sports. The Allies were now ready to counter attack from both the north with Montgomery in command of the combined forces, and the south with Patton’s 3^rd Army.

Due to the division's T/E lack of sufficient vehicles, we were using trucks from an attached separate trucking unit to transport the battalion. Their Sergeant, who was in charge, told us that his lieutenant was last seen several days earlier going down a road in his jeep and there had been no further word from him.

We started out after dark in convoy. The vehicles used only their blackout lights but were spaced too far apart.  We were given a destination and the password for that day.  It was snowing lightly and very cold. 

We came to a fork in the road. The trucks in the convoy that were ahead of us took the left road, and so we followed. Several miles down the road the officer in the first truck realized that they had lost the front  end of the convoy so the trucks pulled up on a circular drive in front of a farmhouse. All the officers with the group were only lieutenants who after pouring over their maps, turned to me and said "Doc, you are the senior officer here (captain) what should we do?” 

Medical officers had rank but exercised no command functions except in their own units.  I suggested the obvious; going back to the fork in the road and taking the right fork, which we did. 

We're now rolling up the Bastogne highway toward the unknown front.   Suddenly our 2_1/2 ton truck stopped out of gas. The others vehicles, even those behind us, continued down the road. It was dark and out of fear that we were German soldiers in disguise nobody would stop.

Finally an armored car stopped. An officer, after supplying us with gasoline, informed us that not only had our destination been changed but also the password.  We followed his directions and arrived in a village at what was supposed to be division headquarters.

I was directed to the command post. Unchallenged, I was suddenly in the general's presence.  I was informed that my regiment was in another village and they would have a guide sent to lead us to our battalion.

I went out to wait. In the mean time, the men had disbursed out of the cold truck into nearby housing.  About an hour later the guide arrived. After rounding the men up, we were led around the corner about 100 yards to another house which was our battalion’s headquarters. The rest of the regiment was in another town.

The next day we moved into the countryside beyond Libramont, where the division was going to mount a counter offensive attack.

Since it was getting near evening, we stopped besides a farmhouse whose upper stories had been destroyed. The bottom level which served as a barn was intact. The walls and ceiling were made of reinforced concrete. Also the building was on the back side of a hill.

We were still very naïve and expected to spend the first of many nights of combat out in the open. Because the ground was frozen hard we ordered the men to dig two men foxholes which also would give additional warmth. As soon as they were well underway, Irby and I started to dig one near the barn.  We had no trouble digging and the further we proceeded it became warmer and moist.  Obviously we were digging in a manure pile.  We decided to move into the barn, cleaning out several stalls. One by one the rest of the men came in out of the cold.  .

This was to be our first combat experience. In the morning, according to protocol, we set up our aid station within a litter carry distance of the front. We were in a little clearing in the woods. We were soon collecting casualties, and we found it impossible to work in the cold. Our plasma was freezing. At first we tried immersed the bags in heated water, but as we administered the plasma, it would still congeal in the tubing.

So much for Carlisle’s training. We decided to move back to the farmhouse, which was about a mile from the battlefield, and use our jeeps to run as near as possible to the front line to pick up casualties. Our litter bearers and aid men now had only a short carry before their burden would be picked up. The wounded now were being treated quicker and better.

The initial action took place in a snow storm on a ridge later named “ Dead Man’s Ridge” Repeated German counter attacks by several Panzer Divisions including Tiger Tanks inflicted heavy casualties.  The battle there lasted about three days. Units involved included the 550.507,513, 194 and 193.  After the Bulge the 550 and the 193^rd   became the nucleus for a 3^rd battalion of the 194^th.

Our medics’ performance under fire was extra-ordinary. Several were awarded a bronze star, and one the Silver Star for their action that day. During the German’s counter attack an aid station of the 193^rd Glider Infantry Regiment was overrun. We did not lose any of our litter bearers.

We were fortunate to have the independent intelligence to use the burned out farmhouse as our aid station. The road was the subject to periodic 88 mm. German artillery shelling.  Our location protected us from anything except a high trajectory shell such as from a mortar. I am sure the thick concrete ceiling that separated the barn area from the ruins of the first floor of the house would have withstood such shells. By Jan. 7^th, our troops had advanced far enough that we had to move. We never set up an aid station in the open after that first experience.

 One day the 9th air force flew over to bomb the Germans. Several bombs landed on a hill not a far distance to our rear. Fortunately, this time no Americans were injured by friendly fire.

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WHAT IS GOING ON?

Wednesday morning I was going toward City Hall on Watchung Ave, when to my surprise at 7th St. I found the east leg of the triangle closed in front of the Salvation Army Building. There  were several Police cars there with flashing light,  a fire truck, other vehicles, and  what appeared to be tents on the lot off 6th St.

A left turn and two rights permitted me to reach City Hall where I learned  That there was a free bike give away to needy kids. A good and worthy deal, but I did not know who was sponsoring this event.

When I returned home I searched the City Site for info. What did I find out? Nothing!!! perhaps I missed it since I can never find anything when I look.

There must have been some publicity because there seemed to be a good number of people there. But where was it and how was it done? I don't remember a street closing approval by the Council but I do not pay t oo much attention to those Resolutions.

Why do we have a City Site? Who is responsible for its contents?  How much have we spent this year on I&T?  Are we getting our dollar's worth?

Another  weird event which AJ  has posted the notice is the State is selling the  Liquor License of a Plainfield bar which it seized for non payment of taxes. I know these licenses are approved by the ABC, but I  thought those licenses were granted by the City and their sale had to be approved by the Council.  Obviously I am wrong, and once again Plainfield is missing the chance to reduce the number  of outstanding licenses.

11am 7/25, Thanks to today's Courier I know about the Bike give away. Especial thanks to Donna Albanese and the other s who participated in this great community event. But where was it publicized?

SAGA OF THE 17TH AIRBORNE

 I received a letter from an author in Utah who had become interested in the 17th Airborne Division. He  felt that it had not received the recognition it deserved  and intended to publish some articles in military journals. He had  obtained my name  from an old publication by the veterans of that Division. That started a search.

 

In the early 2000s I had written at the request of my kids a history of my WWII experiences. There may be a copy of ‘Old Doc’s War in the Library. There are somewhere in my computer files  the original documents for the history. Some I have posted before correcting erroneous names. Over the next few days I will post short segments on \the BATTLE OF THE BULGE. The original blog posting was in 2008.

“We were still in England at the onset of the Bulge. I had been planning for a week's leave and was going to go to Wales.  Instead, on Dec. 24.1944 our division was airlifted to France.  This was the first time an operation on such a large scale had been attempted. Each one of our two battalion medical jeeps with trailer were to be loaded into a C.47. I and three enlisted men would fly in one plane. There was a ramp placed up to the side cargo door of the plane. The driver had to manipulate the jeep and loaded trailer up the ramp, maneuver a 90degree left turn, and ending with the jeep just behind the pilot’s seats. There was no room on either side to stand and the end of the trailer was just in front of the door. I, the driver, and two aid men were to ride sitting in the jeep. After we got the vehicles loaded the tail wheel was touching the fuselage. The pilot said we had to lighten the load. I had three bottles of Portuguese cognac in my bed roll which I had no intentions of losing. 

 After we threw out several cases of C rations and finally had enough clearance that the wheel was not touching the plane; the pilot and co-pilot said they would take off if we would, on his command, manually trim the plane. As we start down the runway we stood right behind them in the cockpit. As soon as the plane lifted off we scrambled over the jeep and trailer to the rear of the cargo compartment. We just did clear the trees at the end of the runway.

Our ambulance along with the rest of the division vehicles moved overland in convoy, crossing the channel by ferry. They reached us no more than 24 hours after we were on the continent.

The flight to France was uneventful. After unloading under pressure from nervous flight crews to hurry up, we moved, loaded in big open trailer (cattle) trucks, to a position near Sedan along the Meuse River. 

Twenty four hours after leaving England, we were in combat. The division and its regiments were in army reserve, guarding the river crossings.  “A Company” was sent several miles up the river to another town to protect a bridge. I also moved up there with a few aid men for a small aid station.   

We chose a house in the village in the middle of a group of houses, side walls almost touching. Although "Bed Check Charlie" flew over every night we felt secure when we were in this town. I celebrated New Year's Eve with some of the company’s officers by opening one of my bottles of brandy. (continued)

UVa SAGA INTERLUDE....

Just a smidgeon more about year 2 at Randall Hall, before moving on to the next 5 years spent at #19 East Range.

Those rooms were also part of Mr. Jefferson’s Scholastic Village. Each opened directly to the outside. All had a Fire Place and in the fall everybody bought a chord of wood which was stacked outside the door. There was a steam heat radiator in every room as well as a sink with hot and cold water, but all bathroom facilities were in bathrooms in adjoining two blocks in the back and underneath one of the3 blocks.

Randall Hall was an old three-story building in which the lower two floors had been converted into a student dormitory. Randall’s room sizes varied; most were only narrow singles but connected to the adjoining singles. Joe Jaffe and I decided to take two adjacently rooms. We had gotten along well as roommates but our study and living habits differed so this would be a good compromise. However, most of the time the door between was open, thus we were still almost roommates. On each floor, there was one large community bathroom. The third floor had only two rooms, we seldom saw their occupants.

There was a large grassy space between Randal Hall and a side road. There, the residents used to play touch football. The building was also on a bank above the road that passed between it and McKim Hall, the student nurse's residence, which was at a lower level. Many an hour was spent on the edge of that bank watching the girls coming to and leaving the McKim Hall either for the “Corner” or down town. There were the usual catcalls and whistles. It goes without stating that, the” parade” was also a mutual satisfying exercise by all participants.

With the exception of the first-year dormitories, discipline or restrictions in the university was very relaxed. Women were constant visitors in the student rooms of this 98% percent male university. Sometimes silly situations arose. Once while in Randall, I was sitting on a stall john when a girl came in and pushed open the shuttered door. She stopped and looked at me then said, “Oh my God if I did not know you I would've been embarrassed”. The fact that our acquaintance was so barely casual that I had no idea who she was, made no difference to her.

Sternkopf, my older role model image, had a steady student nurse girlfriend and everyone knew they were having active sex.( To those   who are or pretend to be scandalized; don't forget that Sternkopf was a late 20s year old Marine who had served in China. Also is that not why one has a private domain? And for the voyeurs; No I never had a girl in my room  in Randall;I was only 17/18 that year and still wet behind the ears) The beds were the cast iron type with flat springs, whose side rails fit into slots in the head and foot ends. Once, someone (Marty) tied cowbells to the bedsprings. Another time the side rails were loosened from the slots so that the bed would collapse under them. They were married about a year later, and for a long time I dated one of Alma's classmates.

In the '30s, the school year at Virginia was divided into trimesters plus a split summer session. On Randal Hall's second floor, there was a large room, which served as a recreation room. During the first trimesters, we had a poker game every night. During the second trimesters there were only enough available for a bridge game. By the spring trimesters, only Marty and I felt that we were in good enough scholastic standing to have a new mission which I mentioned in the first segment.

REMEMERANCE OLD 4THs

While going back looking for a specific blog I ran across this old one reproduced for its nostalgia.

Friday, July 4, 2008

The 4th in Plainfield's Past

Once upon a time and not in a galaxy far away, the 4th of July in Plainfield was a major event. For many years the parade was by far the biggest in North and Central New Jersey. Marching bands from all over the region competed in the parade along with military unit detachments. The floats were sophisticated, not Rose Bowl standards but beyond the flatbed truck type. All the adjacent municipalities participated in the parade. The marching route was from Leland Ave to Somerset Street and then through North Plainfield as far as Greenbrook Rd.

Unfortunately after the 1968 riots participation dwindled and our neighbors exhibiting a petty sense of community grandeur and a wish to disassociate from Plainfield organized their own individual parades. I believe that this was the time when there was an active movement in North Plainfield to change its name so that there would be no association with Plainfield.

Way back in the 20s and 30s the parade route was down Park Ave. I vaguely remember Doctor (Colonel) Corbisier (spelling ??) a Spanish American War veteran annually as Grand Marshal riding his horse at the head of the parade.

The old Fourth also has other memories. In the back yard of our house on the southeast corner of 4th and Grant we had a cherry tree., which was close to the flat roof over the kitchen extension. The Cherries were similar to Queen Anns and always ripened just in time to be picked on the fourth. As children my brother and I would climb the tree to pick them.

Since these cherries were tart not sweet they were only fit for "canning". My mother and Katherine and Agnes (sisters) who lived with us and worked as cooks, nursemaids etc. would spend several days cleaning sorting , pitting and then cooking the cherries and sealing them in quart "Ball Jars".

After the war I used to climb out a rear bed room window and reach the flat roof to pick those cherries. Ultimately both the tree and I became too old for such foolishness.

NO JULIP; STILL SERENDIPITY

By now you must be under the impression that my UVa life was all “Sex and the College Boy”.

Nothing could be further from the truce. The mandatory First Year Dormitories were a long way from the “Corner” where the two Drugstores, two Bookstores, Restaurants, Bowling Alley (Duck Pins), two “Bars”, several clothing stores, a movie theater, and Anderson’s diner were a magnet for students including nursing students.

Although most of those pre- nurses had at least two years of college; they were subject to a curfew (11pm). Never the less; they were ,with the exception of a few women students, the only pool of potential female companionship. That left the Saturday night Frye Springs Studio dances  as  the only alternative and the  occasional dances at the Student Center; Madison Hall. To this day I can’t dance.

As an extra-curricular activity, I joined the Virginia Players. There were a few contemporary college girls as members, but most women were spouses of faculty members. After a year as a gofer, and with the Randall Hall interlude, I gradually became inactive. None the less, I am still on the Players alumnus list and receive frequent e-mails.

The Players have evolved into a strong Drama School many of its graduates have become famous on the stage and TV as well as movies. Tina Fey (Elizabeth Stamatina Fey) is one graduate that is well known.

I did have to have two years of a foreign language credits to graduate. The Romance Pavilion; Spanish and French studies, not boys and girls, was on the East Lawn. These Pavilions inter spaced along the rooms were originally Professor’s Residences and class rooms in Thomas Jefferson’s Scholastic Village. Some still serve the same role as faculty residences today.

Because I had had ‘Oui, Oui French” (I have written that story) In High School I was in a class that was taught by a young Southern who was a poet. French taught with a “you all inflection" can be difficult and a worry to one who has always been weak in languages. I was in danger of failing although I was on the Dean’s List from the get-go.

Serendipity to the rescue; Lady Astor was visiting the University and a picture printed on the first page in The Daily Progress (Charlottesville’s newspaper) was a good one of me standing right by her right shoulder. Little did my French Instructor know that while crossing the Lawn, out of curiosity I had investigated what the mob of students was doing.  He was so impressed that I had no trouble passing the course. Naturally I dropped French and in my Second Year took German 101.  Another scholastic triumph and story.

Lightning can strike twice! In my second year my German Class Instructor took a liking to me. I had already begun to cultivate my illegible Doctor’s hand writing and since he could not read my final exam he gave me a personal oral exam. With some prompting I passed and my linguistic college career had ended.

Since “I fought the war” in Europe both came in handy. In dealing with the locals my favorite expressions were “Non Compris” and “Nich Verstehen” (if correct should have been “Ich verstehst nich”); “I don’t understand”. Either simplified things.

This may be boring, but a final explanation. UVa in those years was on a “trimester schedule with an extra summer session. If you were on the Dean’s the first two trimesters you were awarded ‘Intermediate Honors”.  The benefit was that with the exception of scheduled tests and final exams you did not have to attend classes. I found that very useful for certain 8am extremely boring teachers. 

I took full advantage of that privilege for the rest of that year and the next two before I entered Medical School . That too was a serendipitous occurrence.

10am corrections and additions whose absences was missed on initial proof reading. If you note other errors please advise. If you have interest for this saga to continue please say so.

SERENDIPITY AND THAT JULEP

(There are changes for the better I hope at 8am in blue)

Serendipity; the key to my life;leading to lifelong friendships, unplanned career paths,  a wife for 68 years, and now four children, three grandchildren, five great grandchildren who would not had  had an existence plus how many potential souls for the rest of history. Yes the world changed the moment I stepped on  that train and all the result of a last minute unplanned random choice of college. The impetus was a rejection based on religious quotas in the Ivy League Schools.

That is why at the age of 16 ½ the deviation from my self planned future began on a September day that was about as hot as this past week; when at the Plainfield station I boarded the B&O train that would take me to Washington where I would then take a Southern RR not air condition train to Charlottesville. That overheated windows opened car was a supportive mixer for a train car full of young men concerned about the immediate future.

This year’s hot weather   and memories of mint juleps were a stimulus to recall those glorious college years that followed. Those years that should be for all students the greatest and best in a life time.

Why do I say that? Because for those who are fortunate enough to have that opportunity; it represents a transition from parent domination to independence. That switch occurs in a society of your peers yet your main responsibility is to yourself. You alone make the choices, some bad, that will impact on your future; and you are aware of it.

For the first time in my life I would be away from home on my own. I was entering a new universe.  I had no knowledge of the University. Unlike today’s kids visitations to prospective colleges were not extremely rare nor did I know that despite its excellent scholastic standing UVa was considered a party school (more later).

In those days the University had about 5 to 6000 students in all schools.  Fraternities were of course dominant but there were a substantial number of those who did not join. After the first year students could live on the grounds, but accommodations were quiet limited. My first year roommate and I had a congenial relationship although he was in engineering school and had to study hard while I was in the College. We decided to get adjoining rooms in Randall Hall  an old two story building that was home to students in  all the schools; Engineering, Law ,Medical, Business, Architecture, and of course the College.

 It was there in that heterogeneous society that I became lifelong friends with Bob Sternkopf, an ex-marine who had been in China during the Panay incident, and Marty Ball, an army brat. In 1942 I was Marty’s best man when he was married in the “Little Church around the Corner”. Both served with distinction during the war; Marty was wounded at Salerno, and Bob retired as a Lt. Colonel. Both took advantage of the GI Bill of rights although Sternkopf stayed in service, Marty went back to Law School.

Randall Hall was notorious because one could always find visiting women in its halls and occasionally in the Johns. Its physical location was superb; it was located on a slight hill on the road across from the student nurses residence, McKim Hall.

I arrived at Virginia a shy boy who had not dated in High School. There were only a limited number of co-eds in the University with exception of the Nursing School and the Education School. Charlottesville was isolated and without a car social life for first year students was limited. On weekends we would go to Fry Springs, a road house, for its Friday  Saturday night dances to meet the local and country girls that came there because of the college boys. Not being a good dancer that too was a bust.

First year students could not have cars unless they had a handicap. Two boys in my dorm had suffered from polio; one had an old Studebaker Touring car, the other a Model A Ford roaster with a rumble seat. One winter weekend four of us-two in the rumble seat- took a unsuccessful trip to Southern Seminary; a Girl’s finishing school; High School and Junior College. Another non productive venture in the touring car was over Afton Mountain to Staunton and Mary Baldwin College and Fairfax Hall. Little did I know at that time that much of my life would evolve  in Staunton .

My second year’s social life was more interesting. Beginning with the spring session my good friend Marty and I set a goal; every night to go down town Charlottesville and pick up two different girls.  We had an unprecedented degree of success although towards the end our standards were pretty low. Never the less we both had very nice town girlfriends for an extended period of time. Marty’s was the telephone operator at the Patrick Henry Army camp where I returned to the States from Europe in 1945 just after Xmas. I was discharged 1/2/46 at Fort Momouth..

After about 7 years of not having contact with local girls; when I placed my call to Helen, I got a loud “Why Harold Yood how are you?” and then a history of the girls we had known. Moreover I was not charged with my long long call.

Don’t misunderstand; girls were not the prime focus in our life. We were only able to have such an “active social life” which got better in our 3^rd year when we each had “private” rooms because we kept up with our scholastic responsibilities including being on the Dean’s List. And the best was yet to come.

(More corrections and changes 4pm)