I am going to see this movie. I can't wait for Netflix.
This is long, so digest at your leisure pace. My writing is sometimes a labor to read.
I am sharing this here because I can't think of a better place to do so, and also because I'm trying to create some historical narrative for my family. I am the oldest, so have the greater first-hand knowledge of my Dad's conversations and feel more responsibility to make sure this is not forgotten.
My Pop recently passed December 2012 at the young age of 86. He was in a Sherman with Patton's 10th Armored Division. Or, as he and his buddies would joke at reunions "Patton was with us".
I'm no military historian expert by any measure, so if I make any mistakes along the path of historical accuracy, feel free to correct them. I would appreciate it.
Dad didn't talk much about his wartime experience. So, anything I post here is a compilation of what I picked up from listening to him over a period of 50 years, mostly coming in the last 2-10 prior to his passing. So here goes:
He lied about his age to enlist in the Army because his Southern brood were of the stock it was their divine duty, and got into the tank corps. We're talking about Kentuck'ie, Tennessee, southern Illinois. Go there now and tell me it's any different.
He first stepped foot on French soil and got moved up to the front quickly. Somewhere after this time he or his buddies created one of their funny phrases.. "I'd rather face a German with a gun than have a Frenchman behind me with a knife". I don't know origin or history of that remark, but I've seen his buddies quietly nod their head in agreement when any of them uttered that phrase. I have no axe to grind in this matter.
As his unit was moving through France, in 1944, they were called upon to move quickly into an area around Bastogne, Belgium, in the Belgian part of the Ardennes forest. Everybody knows that story, so I'll leave that part to the experts, much more skilled in the history and story telling of it than I.
After the Bulge, Germany was falling apart and every grunt knew it. It was just a matter of time. Allied Air was kicking the crap out of them, and they had the likes of the entire Allied Army on their tails.
I believe situations after Bastogne affected my Pop more than anything else prior. Dad came to be best friends with his first tank commander, a Lt. and a true southern gentleman like my Dad. He was KIA by a sniper while doing recon out of the tank over a hilltop after they got into Germany. Pop was wounded first time soon after.
Dad was placed back in action a couple weeks later. This is around the time they went to an area called Dachau. "Daa-Kaa" , as Pop pronounced it in his humorous and limited knowledge of European linguistics. He said he and the guys passed out food, but were soon given the cease and desist because the prisoners could not handle the food. Many prisoners asked for guns to hunt down the Nazis who had fled into the forest, but Dad and his guys were again told no can do. Long story short, they couldn't stay long and had to head out. Pop told me later from what he read, many of the prisoners were already so far gone, he finally somewhat understood this order.
During this period in Germany, Pop shot down an ME109 that was strafing his column and, for that, was given the Bronze Star. Dad grew up in the 20's and 30's and was totally enamored by airplanes and the thoughts and dreams of flight. Heck, I've had them, too. Flying like an Eagle, banking and turning, effortlessly. We've all had them. Well, he was a fanatic about planes and flight as a teenager before entering the war. He collected flash cards of all the planes from all over the world throughout the 30's and was full aware of the structure, profile, and silhouette of planes from that period. I am proud to also have these flash cards and accompanying scrapbook in my possession. I believe that knowledge distinctly enabled him to identify the enemy plane and shoot it down before it could cause further harm to his group.
For many years, my family had the Swastika my Dad cut from the tail of the ME109 he shot down in our garage. That, along with an SS dagger, SS helmet were stolen by in-laws. My brother managed to get the original Swastika marked P38 out of the house before that happened, and Pop was able to personally give me back the guns I had bought for him. He never owned many guns during his life, that I saw. I think when I Christmas gifted him the .45, 9mm, and M1 carbine, that was the most he ever personally owned, including his .22 LR and shotguns.
The second time he got hit, his tank caught a Panzerfaust at point blank range, aided by a village woman in Ohringen, Germany pretending to sweep up debris, scouting for the shooter. Everyone in the tank except my Pop was KIA. (correction: after finding my 11 year old notes on a backup drive from my last computer; Dad and 1 other crewman managed to escape, wounded). Dad got blown out of the turret, multiple shrapnel wounds, and destroying his right ear drum for the rest of his life.
This marked the end of his action at the point of attack.
I have all Pop's medals, citations, unit citations, patches, and flag from full military honors burial. These include a Bronze Star for shooting down the ME109 and 2 Purple Hearts. I think he may have weighed in at 160-170 tops, soaking wet when he went in. He was long and dangly like me in my younger days, just a couple inches shorter.
This is the story of a real hero, as I knew him. He was my Pop. Was he a tough SOB? Yes. Was he a hardass? Yes.
We were coming back up from the north side of the lake one time. Beautiful day, bright sun-shiny. We come up on this pickup where this guy was putting a good hurtin' on his GF/wife. First thing out of the box, this guy tells my Dad to mind his own business or he's going to kill him. I remember my Dad first saying "OK", and then telling me to get back in the truck and stay there. I was about 15-16. Then, the guy threw the lady into the truck again and starting beating the hell out of her. Dad went back to the truck and beat his ass in the truck, mind you. Cleaned the guy's clock.. with the woman asking why he was hurting her man. Pop then came back to our truck and said it was time to go home.
I have many pics I would share of his from France, Germany, Bavaria. He REALLY liked the Garmisch- Partinkichern area. I'm just not too adept at posting them here, but if somebody wants to help, we can get them up. These include modern photos of the exact spot his tank took the panzerfaust round and the doorway where it was fired.
Don't want to bore you all with the narrative, but I felt I had to pass this real history forward, as well as my family's legacy in print. I have many pictures that I would gladly share. I just struggle on the Fire with posting pics, for some reason.
Last edited by local_dirt; 10/21/14.
