War Is Hell!
War Is Hell!
The heading may be a cliche - contrite, in fact. But it is also misleading because "war" denotes, action, clashes, death, injury and all elements that can bespeak"Hell". What is a vital part of the saying also, is the 'condition' that involves all those who become participants, by design, or by mandate - and find themselves facing unbelievable situations completely remote from their prior life.
Some weeks ago, ViewPoint decided to change the pace of the blog by going back to an episode endured in WW II by this writer - the incredible challenge of going over the side of a transport delivering troops to the French coast with full field pack, rifle, and NO PRIOR TRAINING in the M.O.! It was a welcomed entry in the ViewPoint ensemble - which leads us to another episode you are likely to see nowhere else!
Our battalion of Military Police, a thousand strong, was ordered to move abruptly from relatively peaceful Brittany to a destination in Germany - and to be ready at daybreak for the journey by train. It was a long hike to the rail siding where we were greeted by US officers and a long, long line of freight cars. For any of us who had some knowledge of the French position in WW1, it was immediate disbelief. These were the original "Forty and Eights" used by France to haul troops and cavalry to the front in 1916. Were we expected to become the 1944 inheritors - absent horses!
After the usual army wait , the answer came with a shouting command "BOARD!" No specs - no designations how many per car or even which troops in which cars. In typical army fashion it was to be survival time - no questions, pick a car with friends boarding and hope it will be a short trip!
The scene might have been set up for a comedy - guys grabbing the 'best' locations - a box car with sliding doors on each side - no windows - no inter car access to the adjacent car - no other ventilation but thank the Lord, no lingering horse odors! Once the location by each door were taken by guys hanging boots over the door tracks, all others had one choice - drop your pack and rifle near a friend and wait. In time, we felt movement and the journey was under way. And, dear reader, it might have ended there except for what happened in the middle of the night. By midnight, about 25 men scattered across the rough flooring were huddled in their blankets, half or partially ontop of whoever was adjacent. There was no orderly layout for bodies - it had turned cold and the doors were closed, the body odor of a couple of dozen men replaced horses! Gabbing, cussing, belching, and other assorted bodily exhalations gave the scene a rich 'flavor' of thoughts that might have been in many minds that night - what am I doing here? - home was never like this! And then it hit. Nature was calling. Urgently. It might have been the meal served hours ago under conditions not to be described here - or whatever. The real question was what to do about it. When? Where? How? Slowly, the train movement seemed to -be slowing - could it be a stop for a break? Remember - no windows, no sign of life in the real world. Until I gradually pulled open the sliding door far enough to see NOTHING! It was pitch black outside, not a flicker of light anywhere. What's more, I have no idea what lies beyond the train car - are we at a station of sorts or on a siding with other cars? No time for a spot analysis - this is the real world now - do or die sound dramatic - but the awful fact was it was imperative to drop outside the car and hope, fervently, that our train was at a location that would permit walking a few feet to do what nature had demanded! In seconds, the awful truth became apparent. The train had stopped on a site high above whatever lay beyond and any steps forward might be the end. A slide down a dirt hill, a body of water below, no way to clamber back up! And, most important, how long will the train stay motionless? No more time for even flash contemplation. Walk six steps to the rear- carefully. Get between the cars - pray that this is not the end - any movement now will surely crush this desperate GI. Hang on to both cars for dear life - loosen clothing - and please, dear reader, you can finish the details from here! It was almost with a sense of relief that I returned to the car door, hoping that no one decided it was too cool with it open. It was.. Climbing in, walking over the bodies in every position possible to find my own spot was an even trickier challenge - but success - and an exhausted soldier fell on the floor, pulled a blanket over his head - and as he went off to sleep, he though, if I ever tell this story, no one will believe it happened that way! The journey continued for another 24 hours. Uneventful. Perhaps, the recounting of my nocturnal adventure brought more guffaws than any lousy jokes making rounds. OK with me. I did what I had to - and entertained the troops in the bargain!
The heading may be a cliche - contrite, in fact. But it is also misleading because "war" denotes, action, clashes, death, injury and all elements that can bespeak"Hell". What is a vital part of the saying also, is the 'condition' that involves all those who become participants, by design, or by mandate - and find themselves facing unbelievable situations completely remote from their prior life.
Some weeks ago, ViewPoint decided to change the pace of the blog by going back to an episode endured in WW II by this writer - the incredible challenge of going over the side of a transport delivering troops to the French coast with full field pack, rifle, and NO PRIOR TRAINING in the M.O.! It was a welcomed entry in the ViewPoint ensemble - which leads us to another episode you are likely to see nowhere else!
Our battalion of Military Police, a thousand strong, was ordered to move abruptly from relatively peaceful Brittany to a destination in Germany - and to be ready at daybreak for the journey by train. It was a long hike to the rail siding where we were greeted by US officers and a long, long line of freight cars. For any of us who had some knowledge of the French position in WW1, it was immediate disbelief. These were the original "Forty and Eights" used by France to haul troops and cavalry to the front in 1916. Were we expected to become the 1944 inheritors - absent horses!
After the usual army wait , the answer came with a shouting command "BOARD!" No specs - no designations how many per car or even which troops in which cars. In typical army fashion it was to be survival time - no questions, pick a car with friends boarding and hope it will be a short trip!
The scene might have been set up for a comedy - guys grabbing the 'best' locations - a box car with sliding doors on each side - no windows - no inter car access to the adjacent car - no other ventilation but thank the Lord, no lingering horse odors! Once the location by each door were taken by guys hanging boots over the door tracks, all others had one choice - drop your pack and rifle near a friend and wait. In time, we felt movement and the journey was under way. And, dear reader, it might have ended there except for what happened in the middle of the night. By midnight, about 25 men scattered across the rough flooring were huddled in their blankets, half or partially ontop of whoever was adjacent. There was no orderly layout for bodies - it had turned cold and the doors were closed, the body odor of a couple of dozen men replaced horses! Gabbing, cussing, belching, and other assorted bodily exhalations gave the scene a rich 'flavor' of thoughts that might have been in many minds that night - what am I doing here? - home was never like this! And then it hit. Nature was calling. Urgently. It might have been the meal served hours ago under conditions not to be described here - or whatever. The real question was what to do about it. When? Where? How? Slowly, the train movement seemed to -be slowing - could it be a stop for a break? Remember - no windows, no sign of life in the real world. Until I gradually pulled open the sliding door far enough to see NOTHING! It was pitch black outside, not a flicker of light anywhere. What's more, I have no idea what lies beyond the train car - are we at a station of sorts or on a siding with other cars? No time for a spot analysis - this is the real world now - do or die sound dramatic - but the awful fact was it was imperative to drop outside the car and hope, fervently, that our train was at a location that would permit walking a few feet to do what nature had demanded! In seconds, the awful truth became apparent. The train had stopped on a site high above whatever lay beyond and any steps forward might be the end. A slide down a dirt hill, a body of water below, no way to clamber back up! And, most important, how long will the train stay motionless? No more time for even flash contemplation. Walk six steps to the rear- carefully. Get between the cars - pray that this is not the end - any movement now will surely crush this desperate GI. Hang on to both cars for dear life - loosen clothing - and please, dear reader, you can finish the details from here! It was almost with a sense of relief that I returned to the car door, hoping that no one decided it was too cool with it open. It was.. Climbing in, walking over the bodies in every position possible to find my own spot was an even trickier challenge - but success - and an exhausted soldier fell on the floor, pulled a blanket over his head - and as he went off to sleep, he though, if I ever tell this story, no one will believe it happened that way! The journey continued for another 24 hours. Uneventful. Perhaps, the recounting of my nocturnal adventure brought more guffaws than any lousy jokes making rounds. OK with me. I did what I had to - and entertained the troops in the bargain!
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