FAST FORWARD

Before I forget-- I have to flash forward  to the training area of Pozzuoli. It has to with a six holer outhouse--called a Latrine.  It was screened in using mosquito netting. There was a door. The occupant was faintly visible in silhouette. Each GI had to 'pull' Latrine duty from time to time. His job was to 'police' the  area--that is to keep the area clean as possible. This included using  insecticides and swatting flies. We had a "BUG BOMB". It was a  black pressurized can containing some sort of insecticide which  was the fore-runner of our modern bug killers available off  the shelf in most stores. Mooney (John Mullins the winner of our first Bronze star) was called   upon for Latrine duty. He was instructed to use a "BUG BOMB". His  instructions were not quite complete. Every GI had DDT for killing fleas and flies: All companies had to dig holes for privies to be set up in the most sanitary way you could in the field. Those black canisters  look very much like a concussion grenade.  Most GIS had used one in GI life, but it was the first time "Mooney' had seen one. He was cautious. He heard it called a "Bug  Bomb!" Bombs explode don't they? They make a noise don't they? BOOM?
   Mooney opened the screen door of the Latrine and pulled the pin on the Bug Bomb (actually there was  a safety pin like a grenade). He tossed the bug bomb into a hole and ran away a safe distance to await  the explosion which he thought was necessary to kill the flies. The bug bomb didn't explode as he  expected of course. We kidded Mooney about that incident till he almost cried. We 'blew' it out of  proportion not having any thing other to fill an empty non humorous existence. It shows how innocent were the soldiers who were called upon to fight in the war.  It is patriotism at its fullest that such a person must do his duty while there were some others who were able to shirk this calling!

                                               Naples, Italy
  I felt a bit better on this sea voyage. We passed Sicily where our outfit did battle and had made several amphibious landings behind German lines. I tried to enjoy a "K" ration to help replenish my system. I sucked on the rock hard dextrose tablets  because you would bust your teeth trying to masticate one .I liked the fruit bar and some of the chocolate which was highly concentrated. I don't remember the Navy feeding us while enroute.
  The LCI (landing craft infantry) slowly slithered and floated into the Harbor of Napoli.  We drifted  by the Isle Of Capri. There were remnants of sunken ships and the harbor was quite crowded with other military transports.  Along side came many little boats with Italians begging for rations. I remember in  one case, a GI tossed down a can of C rations which hit an Italian on the noggin. He had shiny curly  hair as if it was oiled. I saw a split in the scalp. The can bounced off into the boat but he didn't seem to  care about the cut in the scalp-he dipped his hands into the sea water and splashed his wounded head as if that would stitch up the slit. They are tough people ! That's the price he had to pay for a can of C rations.  The other price was when he had to eat it!! I'll bet they stretched that can of rations with onions and garlic and pasta!
      The army seems to move in snail time in times like these. We stood in long lines awaiting the go signal to debark. Then it was high gear! We were burdened with everything imaginable.  Why not? We  marched through the village row houses on the edge of the harbor. I'll never forget the aroma de  Napoli!  We were marching at dusk and it was supper time for the Italians.  Wafting through the air was  the aroma of Mamma cooking with Onions! Ah! the aroma of Ma's cookin' back home.  I was starving  from the LCI trip and my sickness. I could have surely eaten a big plate load of whatever Mamma Italiana  was cookin'.

   The hike was a long tedious one to finally arrive at what was once Mussolini's race track.  The army  had a replacement camp situated there.  It was dusky and then darkness fell upon us. We counted off  in our line up to determine who would be our pup tent mate. I never remembered my tent mate's name.  We set up the  tent. I guess everyone knows that each GI has in his pack a shelter half-and pegs-which is just half a  tent which then buttons up with another half making a full pup tent--.

      I was really hungry. It was a Friday, but I didn't realize the date.  I went to the chow line to get my chow.  The goop that the KP slopped on my mess kit looked like macaroni and cheese, so I dared to ask  for another scoop.  He did just that. I went to the place we ate which was a 2x6 board on posts where  you stood up while eating.  I tasted the first fork full of GOOP and to my bitter surprise it was STEWED  SALMON--my arch enemy food! I was sickened on salmon when I was a kid--food poisoned-and I just  hated the stuff, BUT I knew that it was nourishment so I ate all I could of it. In the past just a taste gave  me the shudders.
      I went back to the tent and I got the urge to go to the latrine.  Mmm boy!! It hit me hard! I sat there on  the nine holer and got worse and worse- I urped in one hole and I tried to fill the other.  Soon they'd  have to dig another latrine I thought! And I'd have to go looking for my anus which surely was gone by now!
    Back to the tent I went where I got the severe chills which called for another pair of long johns in my  pack. I donned my ODs and my suntans and then went into the sweat--I peeled off, then back again  and under all the blankets we had. The tent mate had a case of over flowing hormones and he had dashed  AWOL to the big town of Napoli.  He came back late at night to find me moaning and groaning. He  called the medics and I was taken by ambulance to the Hospital. I had Malaria for cryin' out loud!!  Malaria? in Italy? I thought that only happened at the Panama Canal zone!  I must have gotten bit by  the mosquitoes in Africa.  That's where I had the first symptoms.  Fate was playing it's game with me.   When I found out I had Malaria, I wrote a very threatening letter back to the Sergeant and Lieutenant  at the replacement camp in Bizerte where I was punished having to walk at attention with full field pack,  in the Company area, come up to the bill board and present arms--for 24 hours!
   I spent a long time in the Malaria ward being given quinine. I don't know what other drugs they had for Malaria. During the stay there we were in nightly air raids by the German bombers. The hospital was  safely marked with the Big Red Cross but one night bombs did fall. I heard it hit the building in which  were the nurses. I didn't hear of any nurse casualties.
      I remember being on the latrine many a time with the bombers going over head to bomb the port of  Naples.  Our ack ack blazed away making more racket.  There was no place to hide.        When I recovered enough they moved me to a convalescent tent. I can remember it well because I  turned 21 that day, November 11, 1943! I told the nurse I was 21 and she simply said,  "Congratulations".

    One day when I was feeling well enough, I put on my ODs over my pajamas and sneaked out of the hospital.  I went back to the replacement camp where I was able to recover some of my personal effects.  They  took all the clothing and other GI stuff out of my barracks bag for re use. My fountain pen and writing  kit was my most important possession.  I found the rest of the bag in the corner of the medic tent!!.
      While in the convalescent tents, my eye began to hurt as if someone was in my head trying to gouge out my eye! I went on sick call next morning and the Lieutenant at the tent flap asked me what was my problem and I simply said, "My eye hurts"--ahah, he seemed to think, another hypochondriac he said mockingly, "My eye hurts too". I muttered expletives under my breath and did a to the rear march out of there. I heard him hollering, "Hey! I was only kidding", but I went back to my tent.
    I decided  my woolen long johns needed to be washed. I found a tub in the junk pile next to a mill which made insulation out of straw. The 2x4 foot sheets when broken up made good kindling. I boiled my woolen long johns. Here's where I lacked expertise--it was absolutely a NO NO to boil woolens. They shrunk down to the size which would fit a four year old!!
     The smoke from the fire worsened my eye ache. I hated to face that Lieutenant again but next morning by golly I went up to try to get on 'sick call'. He apologetically gave me a pass and I went to the clinic which was situated in some of the old World Fair buildings. There was a lineup of hypochondriacs about a half mile long waiting to be treated. I walked right on by everyone and stood in front of the Captain's desk. He wore a heavy beard which was unusual in the army. I blurted out, "Captain, I can't stand it any longer" and I told him the trouble. He ordered a ward boy to escort me to a "clinic" which was just a place partitioned off with GI blankets. There were some barber chairs for his patients. He ordered me to take a chair even while he was working on another individual. He had me look at the ceiling as he stuck a swab up my nostril with some sort of drug--I think it was codeine and there was absolutely miraculous relief! I was healed I thought with just one dob! I took a seat where I could see him working on another patient with my same problem. I saw him stick a metal thing like a nut picker up the GI's nose. Then he reached over to the table which held his instruments and grabbed a little hammer. I saw him actually smite that metal thing up that GIs nose. I am guessing that it was to make an aperture for the sinus canals to make a  drain. That was my trouble. I had infected sinuses. It wasn't going to better 'down the road'. He sent me right back to the big hospital where they doped me up on Morphine I guess. I was on 'cloud nine' and not in pain. After a few days they moved me to another clinic where I was still doped up. I could not wake up. I heard some one over me say, "Hey soldier, y' want some turkey"? it was Thanksgiving Day. I couldn't answer. I heard an orderly say, "let him sleep". So now you know how and where I spent Thanksgiving in 1943. My 21st B'day in the Hospital and now Thanksgiving. All this was some sort of fate. I didn't ask for this, it was plain fate. The UP side of all this was that while I was here in the safety of a hospital, my unit on the Casino front was taking huge losses in the battles to cross the Volturno .How much luckier could I get? Instead of sinuses, it might have been shrapnel or an 8mm bullet, and or possibly the end of the story.
      Soon I was able to see straight and my head was normal. Guess what comes next.
      The orders came soon to board a truck. The war began for me.  We were trucked up to the
  Casino front where I joined the A&P platoon of 2nd Bn. 30th Infantry Regiment of the 3rd Division.  I  remember just a few of those who joined the Platoon with me. One was Edward Sudell from Greenwich  Connecticut. and Scott Shanks from Danville Illinois. I think Paul I. Thome unloaded at the same time  and a GI name GUYER.
      We set up pup tents in the rain on a brushy hill side.  In the distant the cannons could be heard
 booming.  The rain was making life very miserable.  Italian mud is like no other in the world! We waded  through it to get to the chow line and wherever we went we were muddy and wet.  I can vision seeing  Colonel Lyle Bernard standing outside his tent with a cup of something--coffee most likely--looking up  the muddy isle between tents. He was without a helmet and his curly locks of hair dangled in his face,   If he had seen a GI with such a tasseled hair he'd make him do a thousand push ups!  He was very GI.
      Our Platoon commander was a very young shave tail 2nd Looey named Smith. He was so very light  complexioned that he didn't need to shave it seemed. I heard he was only 19 years old-. How can that  be? I don't know but he was very boyish.  It was hard to accept him as a Commander.
   The Platoon was taken out on "problems" where I got aquatinted with GUYER. We commiserated as  we sat together. He was the first 'buddy' I made up to.  We took river crossing training making runs  across the Volturno River. This very area was where the 3rd division fought heavily while I was in the  Hospital in Naples with Malaria! So why should I bitch about having Malaria? Or sinuses? I might have been dead  right on this area where the 3rd Division fought. It was purely fate. I didn't design it! I KNOW how  lucky I am.  I'd really hang my head if I designed this fate however.

      We took training for some miserable weeks or few days.  It was hard to realize that only a few miles  from me there was a giant struggle going on for the Monastery on top of the hill called MONTE  CASINO. Those in the platoon told about the ruggedness of the terrain and told us to be thankful we  were not there.
In the army you go and you do as you are told. We were loaded on 6x6s and trucked back towards  Napoli. The town's name was Pozzuloi.  We went into vigorous amphibious training, making the march  to the sea of 12   miles boarding a ship, unloading on a Higgins landing craft, hitting the shore and around we'd go till  we 'got it right'. We'd march back to camp and have supper then to our tents for another day of the  same.

      On one occasion the medics stepped into our tents and ordered us to strip down for an examination  to determine how the effect of the vigorous training. A medic confronted me as I shyly removed my  clothes.  He saw on my body the many gun cleaning patches I had taped over my ulcerous sores to  keep my long johns from sticking to the dime sized ulcers. "What the hell we got here?" the medic  asked. "I've had these sores since I was in Africa and I can't seem to heal them so I just covered them  with gun patches and tape". Then the medic said, "why don't you come to the medics with this?" "I  fear that the Captain would think I'm a 'gold brick' if I would ask him to treat me". The medic answered,  "would you let me treat you?" and I said "Yes". So I went up to the Medic tent. There sitting on a  bench was another soldier with the same condition. We called it "African Rot". It was drizzling rain. The medic came out followed by the Captain. I was P.O.'d  at the medic right  away for betraying me.  He told me that HE was going to treat me! The Captain shoved his helmet away  back on his   head and cussed--but not at us! He said, "God Dammit! I can't treat these soldiers here! what the hell do  they think I am anyway? Write them out a ticket to the hospital!" The captain was cussin' the  commanders above him who ordered no one to be excused from the training unless he was bleeding or  had a 105 fever!
      So I landed again in the hospital in Naples. It was the 300th General Hospital I believe. I was
  bandaged from waist down with sulfa salve. I was ambulatory but with difficulty. I had the necessary  holes for body functions. I was in relative safety occasionally feeling a guilt about not being back with the landing party to be. I let the guilt slip off my  conscience quickly--I was under the dictates of fate. I had this condition since Africa but none of the examiners of my body reported the lesions. Or seem to care. It was for my own good though that they didn't. I was willing to continue training but the 'show down ' inspection came up. I wasn't griping about this little thing (little thing?) It was getting worse alright and I was treating it myself with salve and gun patches and adhesive tape. I could do that! I changed them after each of the trips we made to the beach where we loaded up on landing craft and made fake landings into the sand. The sand though would stick to the lesions and cause some pain. I could go on about the ugly sores but why?
      While in the first few days in the 300th General Hospital, I was surprised one day when I met a GI whose name I have forgotten who was with me on the ship coming over. He was badly wounded and cried when he told me how it happened. He had several days of beard growth-maybe a week. I offered and he allowed me to shave him. I wish I would have been able to keep tract of him. He was thankful. He thought I was wounded worse than he was but it wasn't so--I had just a bunch of bandages up to my waist covering some ugly sores. He was mutilated with shrapnel.
    While in the hospital, I always went where there was music. In a recreation room , there was a guy plunking on the piano writing a song for a nurse he kinda 'fell' for. He would play bars over and over again and jot down words till he arrived at lyrics befitting the nurse and the occasion. I was humming along as he wrote and finally picked up on his melody. I read the words and then sang them. Then the nurse was beckoned over and I sang his Lyrics to the nurse. And like Forest Gump, "that's all I have to say about that".
     George Raft the Hollywood star in gangster films entertained. I wasn't impressed but the others really howled when he made a few fancy dance steps. Heck! I could do that! But with my bandages?
     Gee, you'll surely be thinking that my entire war experience was in the hospitals! Hey! wait!
     When the bandages were removed I was pronounced cured but in the meantime I grew a lump on my  thyroid!  I just asked the major why I would be getting a goiter.  He pressed with his thumb on the  obvious lump, and said something to a ward boy.  Another major came to press on the lump and  another ward boy was ordered to get a gurney. I was taken to the operating table and under local  anesthesia I had a lumpectomy on the thyroid! Geez! what next? The stitches looked as if I had a zipper on my throat. When the stitches were removed I had  a few spasms of the muscles for along time, but I couldn't be given a reclassification to non combatant.  An impacted  wisdom tooth was extracted and a few fillings and I was on an LST (Landing Ship, Tank) going to Anzio spitting blood from the tooth cavity all the way to Anzio..

      When I left Napoli, MT. Vesuvius was threatening eruption. I saw the glowing above the Mountain.  In a short while we were in the Anzio harbor or port or landing zone. The big old canon, Anzio Annie in  the Alban Hills was trying its best to knock out the shipping.  Shells were landing spasmodically. We  floated to shore and found ready made fox holes.  The war was HERE! I was in it! The destruction of  the buildings continued The shelling was all the time..
     I was taken somewhere by jeep. I was issued a new rifle and some other battle gear. I  asked for a 1903 Springfield rifle. It was made by a typewriter manufacturer--Smith-Corona. I looked at the stamped parts and asked the Sargeant. "Gee, will this thing shoot"?

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