Temporary turncoats

The temporary turn coats

It was 1942 when I enlisted in the army. I was being trained to fight and kill nazis. My brother went with me. I was doing well enough in training that I was promoted to corporal. From a base in Jersey we shipped out for Africa. We were in Africa (Casablanca and Tobruk) for about two months before we got ready for the invasion of Italy.

In Italy we only saw true action the first few days after we hit the beach. But it wouldn't last. Eventually we ended up at a place called Monte Casino. Otherwise known as the meat grinder. Casino was basically our version of the Great War. We are slept and fought in mud, and trench like fighting positions. It was here we learned the value of the foxhole and some of us learned all about the phrase "no atheist in a foxhole.". I never saw this first hand but I heard stories that permeated as a urban legend of why no one ever wore the chin strap on our steel pots. Basically it was said the force of an artillery shell was enough to pull the helmet off and with it attached it would well you can connect the dots from there. Anyway, we lived like rats, squirming in the mud and living in holes trying to avoid fire. One event that plagues me to this day is what happened before one of our assaults. See these German soldiers called Fallschirmjägers had occupied this abbey (I believe what gave monte casino its name). Well anyway the RAF in their infinite wisdom decided let's just bombard the abbey. So in the span of a few minutes a building built way back in the 1100's was now a pile of bricks.

It was also at casino where I parted ways with my brother and revived word of a special deal. My brother was being shipped to the rear for permanent assignment with the quartermaster corps in the mail division. I was awarded the role of a battlefield commission and it awarded me as special assignment three weeks in a rear line training camp. When I got out I would be an officer of the rank lieutenant at the very least. I remember what sergeant turner told me before I left, "you're lucky you're still gonna be with us for that push on Thursday. I'd pity you if you were leaving today, the men would hate you to miss out on heavy combat." I stood dumbfounded but the message was clear if I left now I'd miss out on some heavy fighting and they'd never like me again.

Thursday arrived. The day opened with a two hour barrage from the Polish artillery division which left the Germans stuck in the hillside and gave us a brief window to advance before they would open fire on us. Seconds after we got about a quarter of the way up the hill "brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt brrrrrrrrrrrrrrttt!" The enemies MG42's unleashed hell at us. A saw that instant three men two to my right ad one to my left fall. One on my right was wounded the other two were dead. We were too far up the hill now to retreat so we dug our fighting holes and would begin the slow crushing push towards the Germans. Each day we'd wake up and push forward a few yards fire rounds back and forth and dig in again at night. Well about three days into our little offensive the Germans stopped us dead in our tracks and a day long stalemate ensued.

It was about 3 am when I could get the sleep I needed that night. I fell asleep and private jenkis was supposed to be on watch well I guess sometime right about 4 he passed out and didn't wake up until he heard German whispers. "Hey, hey corporal. Wake up, I think the Germans are close by." He said in the most hushed whisper you can imagine. "What makes you think that?" I asked also at a lot whisper, "listen, you can here em talking" sure enough I could hear them lowly talking nearby. "Slick, hey slick!" I said in a whispery shout, "slick! Are you there!" He didn't reply. Well I didn't have long to ponder why because out of thin foggy air came "steht auf! Amerikan!" Jenkins turned quickly and tried to escape but in the intervening second a cry of "HALT AMERICAN!" Put him in his place. A few seconds later I responded with "nicht schießen" which means don't shoot and after this Jenkins's hands where positioned with his fingers on the ground. The German soldier in an attempt to fully assert his dominance pressed his hobnailed jackboots onto private Jenkins's hands. This broke three of his fingers. "Steht auf! American. Ich werde nicht wiederholen! Los schnell!" This got US moving he was pointing his gun and after what he did to Jenkins we weren't too keen on trying to get away again. As the sun started to rise near this marshaling yard we saw almost the entire company formed up, however I was chosen to be the leader of the prisoner group (I knew the most German so they would use me as a translator). This essentially made me the pet of the group and their leader.