April 26 (or 25th) started out with the longest artillery barrage I heard for a long time. It seemed as though everything on the beach head was aimed at a sector of the German lines held by our 2nd
Battalion. The shelling started before daybreak and was then followed by an attack on the heavily
fortified positions of the German line. I could see the battle raging from my dug out. An ordinary buck ass private like me was also never informed of the battle plans of course. We had a new officer now in the former Lieutenant's dugout. His name was Lieutenant Howard McQueen, head officer of the 2nd Battalion motor pool. I guess his mission there was to direct some part of the operation regarding the motor pool. All I know about Lt. Howard McQueen was that he barked out an order directed at me, "Mohar, take Sergeant Younkins and Pappy Farrel up there and help-do what ever you can to help". Me? I am just a buck ass private in charge of a corporal and a Sergeant? Pappy Farrel was the jeep driver. He was a grizzled wrinkled older guy who must have been Bill Mauldin's model for Willie in his cartoons. Sergeant Younkins was a new recruit all dressed up in brand new ODs and shinny shoes, direct from the states I assumed. I also assumed that he was to take the place of some of my platoon. I was a bit enraged that they'd bring in a new recruit to take the place of those who were killed in the house shelling instead of elevating some of us who were experienced in combat and knew a bit more about the operation.
None the less, I got into the trailer which was empty. I braced myself for a rough ride and shouted to the jeep driver which direction to go. He might previously have been on that route under cover of darkness many times in the past building up stock piles of ammo for a breakout. We traveled that same path quite routinely now in our stalemate position. The trail became more and more obvious to German observers as it became worn. Operation Mr. Green was almost over when Pappy Farrel met a first retreating Sherman tank. There were at least four Sherman tanks retreating to the rear with the Jerry artillery guns trying to knock them out. Pappy Farrel was avoiding a head on collision with the tanks. He dodged off and on the trail. The trail itself was a tank trap but off the road it was quite a bit rougher. Pappy Farrel saw the futility in the order to "go up and do what you can" --actually the order was more like "to INTERFERE with a battle plan". After a tank or two almost smashed us, I heard Pappy yell out in real GI english, "F---- this noise" I'm getting to hell outta here!" and he made a U turn in between two tanks trying to keep the same pace. Just then a shell hit in front of the jeep! We hit that hole with a smash. Bounced in and out of the shell hole! I was hanging on for dear life trying to keep myself from being tossed out in front of a Sherman tank. It was like riding a bucking bronco. When the trailer hit the hole, it bounced up and back down! I held on to the rails and kept myself upright, but when I came back down, oohh! it was on my left hip bones on the pelvis. I always wore a souvenir Italian bayonet over that hip. I used it to open rations. The Bayonet served as a pocket knife for me. It had a short blade of about 4 inches. A cute little bayonet in a new holster. It was the cause of a major bruise on my left hip. I swelled up big and round--black and blue.
When Pappy pulled up to Lt. McQueen's fox hole, the wounded GIs were being carried past my dugout down the drain ditch on stretchers and other means. There were some walking wounded .At that moment in time I could have gotten in the line up as a wounded GI, but I wasn't bleeding and I would have been too ashamed of myself to stand in front of the medics and tell them I 'hurt my back'. I could imagine how that would play in Peoria in view of the bleeding GIs they were treating. But my back was really hurt. I showed P.I Thome my bruises. It bothered me for weeks but I took it. I know now that I could have been reassigned duties because the evidence was in plain sight. I chose not to complain. That for me was tough. I would have to be 'out of character'--to get in line with those bleeding GIs. What would I say to the Medics? "I hurt my back"? that'd go over big with them I knew!
Once when the outfit was pulled off line for a short break (some break! Ha!) Thome and I were together on a detail near the sandy beaches. I can remember the exact dune where 'Pee Eye' said. "Bing, I just learned a new Judo trick on that last training I took. C'mon, let me demonstrate". I said, " hell no, my back ain't healed yet". He said, "Aw c'mon, I wont hurt ya, I'll do it slow so you can catch on to how it's done". I submitted. He grabbed my right arm and twisted it inverting it so my elbow was on top of his shoulder then he yanked down on my wrist whipping me over his shoulder. I plopped down in the sand! ON MY ACHING BACK !! GEEZUS! was I ever in pain. 'Pee eye', the dirty bugger, was in stitches laughing at me in a
morbid gloat. He was sooo proud of tossing me for a loop. I didn't resist and I guess that was to my good fortune. He might have made my elbow into a universal joint! I have problems with that arm still today and the shoulder--and the hip! But I didn't have a GI Medical record regarding that injury. I live with it OK.
During that time off the line, I took out an 1903A3 rifle to the edge of the water. I took all the tracers out of a machine gun belt and loaded them into the 03. I wondered how far into the ocean could I fire. I shot round after round until the wood guard was oozing cosmoline grease. I learned then why they covered the barrel with wood. To prevent burning your hands, for one thing. I'll bet with a few more rounds and I could have bent the barrel out of shape over my knee! That was the
last 1903 rifle I used.
There were other Operations such as "Mr. Green". Another I remember was "Mr. Black". In another sector where I was not involved. These operations were to test the strength I guess of the opposition and to determine where the lines would eventually be penetrated on 'break out day'.
I was given the nickname of "BING" by Luther Mclean. His nick name was obviously to be MAC. Paul I Thome would be known as P.I.--written it was 'Pee eye'. Gee while handing out the nick names, I should have thought of "Pie eyed". But that would have been too unkind for Paul.
Anzio Breakout
In our Army there was the 34th, 36th and the 45th and the 3rd of course. I said that the breakout was a battle as bad or worse than the Normandy landings. The first steps across the barbed wire was hand to hand and vicious mortar and artillery fire, coupled with the mines and booby traps. Vividly in my mind is the scene of the first wave strewn on the barbed wire. I recognized one of the GIs as the one who taught us 'dirty fighting'. I recognized his curly black hair, his helmet was blown off, and all that remained was his upper torso, nude, laying on the concertina wire his guts strewn over the wire. He must have gotten a direct hit. His squad was also killed by that blast or several blasts. I came through in a second or third wave carrying a radio which went to E company which lost it's communication. I saw wounded GIs and one especially sticks in my memory. He was sniveling and bent over, huddled as if heaving under the wing of a downed aircraft. He could have been faking a wound out of fright--I didn't question it. Later I decided to eat a can of Meat and beans and sat down near a couple dead German soldiers in a ditch--it was safest to hide in ditches-and trenches-, One sight which is indelibly etched in my memory bank is that the top of one dead German soldiers head was opened like a cantaloupe. There was hardly any blood and his brain specimen was only inches from the vacant skull. The top was still hinged. It was as though it was a saw cut. I am still amazed at myself even wanting to write about it. At this writing, I can hardly imagine myself eating while staring at those brains. I guess finally you become grizzled.
Once at a reunion, in St. Louis, Captain Wardlaw and the group at the table were telling 'stories' and the Captain told about his most hideous sights he had ever seen--he told about the same scene-he was there chewing my ass out for taking the time out to eat a can of meat and beans!
On the front lines an officer hates to be saluted, I understand. I had a spoon in one hand and a can of beans in the other. I stood up and you just have to put your pride aside and take the shit from the company commander. He just didn't know what duty I had just performed. Company E's radio went out and I just got through delivering a new one to them and was scrunched down in one of the old German foxholes. I think it was Anderson who went with me. When I handed the new radio over to Company E's radio man I told Andy to get his ass back to safety. He did that gladly. I went on with Company E. Then I decided it wasn't prudent for me to follow just for experience sake so I ducked into a german dug out where in was a stash of fine weaponery. I glommed onto three P38s and strapped them on my belt. I then scurried back to find my platoon. I was very weary and needed the comfort of a can of beans and that's when the commander happened along with some other brass. He spotted the three P38's on my belt and ordered me to get rid of them. I just uttered and reuttered "yes sir, yes sir" at every other command. When they left me there, I hied myself to find my platoon. Mac and a few others were immediately jealous of my loot. I gave one of the P38's to Mac and another to a Lieutenant who later was killed by our own planes in a strafing the next day! This is that very pistol!
was
in charge of its' cargo. It was loaded down from the bed up to
over the racks with all kinds of ammo including Bangalore torpedoes and even
Molotov cocktails. It was enough ammo to keep the 2nd Battalion in
business for a few days. Less ammo would be used now that we were in a full
court pressure. Part of the time most of us were perched on top of the
explosives as the truck kept up to the movement. No sense in walking.
You can't rest while walking, but you can catch a cat nap on top of the
ammo cases--that is if the noise would only die down and the goose bumps would
allow a nap.
