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View Full Version : Any WW2 veterans here, from any nation?



Bearcat99
10-03-2005, 09:07 PM
A few posts here got me to thinking. The facts are that Our WW2 veterans are getting old. In 10 years many of thewm will be gone. Are there any here other than the few who have posted here in the past? Would those few mind sharing some of thier stories with us? Particularly if they were aviators. How about it guys. If it is too painful or unpleasent afor you and you would rahter not then just say so and all of us younger cats can definitely respect that.. but if you dont mind sharing please do. Just remember that we have guidelines that we have to follow here and help us... but please tell us your story if you have one to tell.

~!S!~

Bearcat99
10-03-2005, 09:07 PM
A few posts here got me to thinking. The facts are that Our WW2 veterans are getting old. In 10 years many of thewm will be gone. Are there any here other than the few who have posted here in the past? Would those few mind sharing some of thier stories with us? Particularly if they were aviators. How about it guys. If it is too painful or unpleasent afor you and you would rahter not then just say so and all of us younger cats can definitely respect that.. but if you dont mind sharing please do. Just remember that we have guidelines that we have to follow here and help us... but please tell us your story if you have one to tell.

~!S!~

Leafhopper
10-03-2005, 09:29 PM
Well, not me, I am Vietnam era, US Navy, but my neighbor across the street was a B24 pilot stationed in Italy in '44 - 45. He flew 20 missions and has a few stories. He also went on to Los Alamos and worked with the a-bomb during the fifties.

Leafhopper

Bearcat99
10-03-2005, 09:49 PM
Me too... (Vietnam era) worked on A-7s.... West Coast..

John_Stag
10-04-2005, 05:21 AM
I'm a bit after both, but my dad...

This is as much as I can remember of his stories, good and bad.

He joined a Polish Cavalry Regiment underage. Survived his unit being destroyed because he was a messenger. After Poland surrendered to Germany He went home to find the Russians had invaded that part of Poland, and joined the resistance. The raid he told me about involved a train and no guns; at this time, Russia was still supplying Germany with fuel. The solution was to board the train just after the engine, open the valves and work back to the wagon just before the guards van, where you got off. The train was considerably lighter when the Nazis received it.

The next incident chronologically, the Russians were hunting them. My father€s hideout was an alcove family crypt in the local graveyard. One night, he heard a noise in the crypt, and saw his stepfather come in drunk for a piss. The drunk lit up, and my dad popped his head out of the alcove and asked for a ciggy. He never got one. Stepdad exit stage left evacuating bowels.

He went to visit my grandmother and the Russians were waiting. He suspected that the stepfather informed; he was a good communist. Sent to Siberia, where he got extra rations to stay alive by selling "jewellery" made out of horse-hair to the guards, and volunteering for any works detail that came up. He was tortured at this time, something he never told me much about, and resigned to the fact that he was going to be shot. The date was set.

Germany invaded Russia. The Poles were given a stay of execution, and put to work in factories €œUntil a Polish Army could be reformed.€ They were payed in matches; and the Russian people they dealt with had to honour that €œcurrency.€ One day, a Russian Lieutenant from the frontlines visited the town, and asked the Poles what they were still doing there, while their army was being reformed. The Poles waited 24 hours, using that time to turn matches into flour, bake bread, and stow aboard a train heading for Tashkent. When they didn€t ride goods trains, they walked. They got to Tashkent to find the army starving, and uncertain of Communist intentions. Sent out to forage, and they found nothing, until they came across a dog being kept by the company commander. They never told the man until they got to Italy, a couple of years later. Rumours began that the Commies were going to slaughter them, so plans were drawn out For a defensive action. The assets were Sticks, two rifles and ten rounds of ammunition. Fortunately, the plan was never put into effect.

When the Poles reached Iraq, They were in no better shape than any of the victims of the German concentration camps. It took months to get them back into shape, but my father€s regiment reformed , and switched to tanks, first training on captured Italian vehicles, then British Vickers Mk. 6 light tanks, and finally, Valentines. My father thought the Valentine was the finest piece of kit he ever used during the war.

The time came when the Valentines were to be handed to the Communists. The papers were signed by the NKVD late afternoon for a complete tank regiment. That night the Poles stripped the tanks of anything useable and flogged it. They were moved to Palestine the following day. Saw a girl with increadable long blond hair, who he followed for a long time, just to see her face; she turned out to be fantastically ugly.

Nice hair though.

Moving on to Egypt and Cairo, promoted to corporal went on a mission to get on of his people laid; The poor lad€s problem being one of extreme length, most of the *****s wouldn€t touch him. One was found, and in fact the man later married her.

Back in the war, and the Poles were issued Shermans. This machine, my father never had a good word for. The tank took a hit, and the crew bailed out. Dad stayed long enough to grab a Thompson. By the time he€d got out of the tank (Radio Operator/Loader, and furthest away from the hatch) the rest of the crew disappeared. Rule of thumb; walk away from the direction the tank is pointing. Sometime later, and hopelessly lost, he comes across two Germans in a shell crater. By waving the SMG around, he gets them moving, and they take him home to the allied lines. Got a medal for getting lost.

The rest o the war was Italy. Monte Cassino. For the battle, each tank had extra boxes of shells on the floor. The Regiment was tasked to artillery support. The barriage began. 30 minutes later, all the shells were gone, my father couldn€t move his arms, and couldn€t taste the cigarette for the stench of cordite.

Later, he was badly wounded by German artillery. The hospital also looked after Yugoslavian Communists, and for reasons best known to themselves, the powers that be put my father in with them. All things considered, not a marriage made in heaven. He checked out early, technically desertion, and went to find his regiment. His tank saved the life of an Italian farmer. One thing led to another, and for a while there was a possibility that my mother would be Italian.

The war ended, and the Poles were brought to Britain. Britain had gone to war six years ago to honour a treaty with Poland, but now they wouldn€t go to war with the Russians occupying the country. Instead, Churchill offered The Poles Citizenship. Fearing what would happen if the Russians got hold of him again, My father stayed in England.

Wearing his uniform one day on a trip to York, he was slapped in the face by an old woman and told to F*ck off home, you Fascist€

He never called England home, though I€ve never known any other.

YAKMAN1968
10-04-2005, 06:00 AM
GW1,Somalia & Rwanada here. Good to see fellow Vets. http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/25.gif

JFC_Warhawk
10-04-2005, 07:20 AM
I was also A-7, west coast (VA-195) Bearcat. You had to have been in Lemoore since it was the only place on the west coast for them. But I missed the vietnam era by 6 years.

turnipkiller
10-04-2005, 10:23 AM
I live next door to a Royal Canadian Legion hall, and there are still a few WW2 vets left there. A fellow I used to work with was in the RCN during the fifties and we went into the Legion for a beer. There was a chap there who flew Spitfires during the war, but he wasn't very friendly so I didn't get to talk to him about it, which is too bad. Most of them at this hall don't want to talk about their war experiences, which I do respect as their decision because of painful memories etc., but I wish they would talk about them. The flag out front is at half mast most of the time now, soon they will all be gone and we won't have many of their stories.
My grandfather was a mechanic with the British Army, and was among those evacuating Dunkirk. The only story I have of his is one he told my mom. He was hunkered down on the beach with a friend of his, a shell or bomb came down and his friend was gone. Grandad escaped without a scratch. He never spoke of the war any other time.
My grandmother was an operator at one of the RDF stations in southern England, thats all I know of her.

Sambt
10-04-2005, 02:53 PM
I could share some stories of a kid that grew up in the state of Maryland, USA, during WW2. I Was eight years old when the war ended. Growing up during that peroid has stayed with me all these years as my first memories of anything major was about war. Here is a sample. While at school one day a wild shell, fired from a naval vessel, exploded in a creek about 500 yards from my house. Scary stuff.
I don't want to bore anyone, so if interested say so.
Sam

Bearcat99
10-04-2005, 03:35 PM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by JFC_Warhawk:
I was also A-7, west coast (VA-195) Bearcat. You had to have been in Lemoore since it was the only place on the west coast for them. But I missed the vietnam era by 6 years. </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

LOL... yeah.. good ole NAS Lemoore.... Va-22... I was there from 75-77.

darkhorizon11
10-05-2005, 10:25 AM
I'm fortunate to be related to a few (my grandparents) and have met a bunch over the years.

Most aren't really internet savvy. http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/16x16_smiley-indifferent.gif

3.JG51_BigBear
10-05-2005, 11:14 AM
Way too young myself but my grandfather who passed about a year ago flew the P-61 in the last few months of the Pacific and then F-80s on ground attack in Korea. He didn't see much in World War 2 and spent most of his time in the Pacific working on disbanding groups being rotated back to the states after the war. He was able to check out in the P-51 during that time. I used to love talking to him about his experience with prop planes.

major_setback
10-05-2005, 03:11 PM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
I could share some stories of a kid that grew up in the state of Maryland, USA, during WW2. I Was eight years old when the war ended. Growing up during that peroid has stayed with me all these years as my first memories of anything major was about war. Here is a sample. While at school one day a wild shell, fired from a naval vessel, exploded in a creek about 500 yards from my house. Scary stuff.
I don't want to bore anyone, so if interested say so.
Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Not at all! More please. http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif

Sambt
10-05-2005, 05:15 PM
I will elaborate on the wild naval shell,and how it wound up in my backyard. At the time I was living with my grandparents on the lower Eastern Shore of Maryland. My parents were living in Baltimore as my father was working at Sparrows Point Shipyard building Liberty Ships. Our home was on the lower end of Deal Island {Wenona}. West of where we lived out in the Chesapeake Bay was a Gunnery range use by the Patuxent Naval Air Station. I would climb up on an outbuilding to watch the shells explode in the marsh. The range was only about eight to ten miles away and most of the time you could see the salvos as they hit.
This shelling went on almost every day. At night flares lite up the sky as the explosions shook the ground. I often wondered at that time how you could feel the ground shake across all that water. Our school had huge windows and on occasions those windows would shake and rattle to the point you thought they would brake. One day I saw a teacher duck as she thouht the windows were coming out for sure. My grandmother caught a glass that was shook off a shelf. No one complained about the "bombing" as the locals called it. We were all at war. As to the wild shell no one was injured and as far as I know it was the only one that got loose. The navy investigated of course, picked up some shrapnall and that was it. Exciting times for a little kid.
More? Sam

major_setback
10-05-2005, 06:10 PM
I'm waiting! http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif

crazyivan1970
10-05-2005, 06:41 PM
Only one i know is =353=MonroeQ i spoke to him few times. Great gentleman.

http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_biggrin.gif

Sambt
10-05-2005, 08:41 PM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by major_setback:
I'm waiting! http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif </div></BLOCKQUOTE>
Cousin BoBo
I mentioned my Grandma in previous story and this comes to mind. BoBo was in the Navy serving on a destroyer in the North Atlantic. This is what he said about it, ""Boy was it cold". BoBo gave my grandma one of his dress blues navy uniforms and my grandma cut that thing down and sowed it by hand to fit me. I wore that uniform to death. BoBo taught me to tie the proper knot in the sailors tie and how to crease that white hat. When I was in that rig I looked like a midget sailor. I was so proud of that suit.
I managed to see Bo before he passed away a few years ago. During our last visit together
I found out that he took part in D-Day and that his destroyer was one of the ships that engaged German shore batteris close in to support the landings. He had a praying Mom and he said that with all the action he was in that during the entire war no one on the boat got so much as a scratch.
I have a picture of a young Bo in navy blues and wonder if that could be the uniform he gave me. I miss him.
More? Sam

96th_Nightshifter
10-05-2005, 08:46 PM
Not a pilot but a veteran none the less.
My Grandad (Scottish) landed on Sword beach (I think) on D-day, he was in a tank with his best friend which he had known since he was 6 years old. The tank got hit and the crew had to bail, My Grandad could not save his friend who was burnt alive inside the tank and up to the day he died my Grandad could not be anywhere near the smell of cooked meat, so much so that whenever he did smell it would get angry and would not speak to anyone.
This was the only story he ever told my Dad so that my Dad would stop pestering him to tell him war stories - understandably my Dad never asked him anymore.
Must have been horrible for him, so much respect for all the veterans out there and what they all went through.

Waldo.Pepper
10-05-2005, 09:27 PM
I had two relatived in WW1. One was killed in the battle of the Somme. The other wasn't. Sobering.

My Father, and an uncle were in the Air Force during the war. I have my Father's service papers.

I have another uncle who was a crewman in a tank in Normandy. He tells a story of being attacked my a German plane. They all jumped out of the tank and down under it for safety. This was done in haste and only after the attack he realized that his legs were still out and exposed to the gunfire of the plane. He thinks its a laugh now.

HotelBushranger
10-06-2005, 01:36 AM
My great uncle was in WW1. Thanks to the efforts of my mother, we haev quite a few records of him, including his service number-3317 IIRC, his point of embarktion from Australia and on what boat, where he served (France and untill recently beleived Gallipoli), we even have a Christmas card from him, dated 1917. Thats the most prized possession IMO in the house. He survived the war, but was scared, and died one die on his farm while climbing a fence, his rifle had misfired. But some think he was deliberate. He had a MID to his name. Would have liked to have met him.

Sambt
10-06-2005, 08:10 AM
Sad about your great uncle. The habits and baggage that War gives to those that experiece it is both amusing and heart breaking. My cousin BoBo [US Navy,see above story], brought home the habit of eating his food really fast, I mean really fast. It was embarrasing to eat with him in a restuarant. He was asked why he ate so fast and his reply was, "You never knew when the alarm would sound 'battle stations' or how long you would be there without chow and you ate when you could, fast.
This story is a heart breaker. Jack saw a lot of combat with the US Army in the PTO. I read orders awarding him the Silver Star for stopping a Japanese assault from over running his position. He was a machine gunner and told his buddies to "get out of here"
. The order read that alone he killed over 25 japanese soldiers and stopped the assault allowing his unit to regroup. He said the body count was closer to 50. I told him he should have gotten the Congressional Medal of Honor. He replied,"I was glad to get out of there with my ***".
You would think that over the years that alone would produce nightmares. Not so with Jack. It was a Japanese officer he had trapped in a house in the Phillapines. He said he could have taken him prisoner. "I stalked him to kill him. I didn't have to kill him". "Jack, I said,it was war". He replied," I didn't have to kill him".
I then said to Jack that I had almost ten years of military service and no combat experience. Now here it is. Jack said to me,"You have not missed a thing, your hands are clean".
To carry that burden around the rest of your life must be overwhelming, multiply the above story by millions and you begin to understand why vets are hesitant to talk.
Sam

VF2_Snowman
10-06-2005, 09:29 AM
My father served in the Phillipines and New Guinea during WW2. He never talked about it much but he always stayed in touch with 3 men he served with. Two of them are gone now and the third was here for a visit last year but in poor health.

I'm a Vietnam era vet. Served 4 years in the Infantry.

fuser59
10-06-2005, 05:32 PM
NAS South Weymouth Massachusetts... 1980 to 1984

Active duty Navy with VP51 and later HS74. (Sub-hunters). As an AZ, assigned to flight crew status with HS74. Oh how I miss that jobhttp://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif

VELCRO_FLY
10-06-2005, 06:32 PM
John_Stag - Thanks for the stories about your dad. You must be very proud of him.

My grandfather served in WWI. I have seen some of his medals, but really do not know much about his service.

MY uncle served in Veitnam from 68-69. 1st Calvary. He doesn't talk much about it though. I understand he was in some very heavy fighting. He was an avid hunter before the war, but never cared for it anymore afterwards.

My dad served as a helicopter instructor and test pilot for the Army stationed at Ft. Wolters in Mineral Wells, TX. I used to go over there and fly with him in those old OH-23's (Hiller Killer). We flew with the doors off, man was that a blast. I can remember hanging out the door and feeling the wind pushing on me. I must have been about 7 or 8 at the time. I didn't know much about the war then. I just thought my dad had the coolest job in the world. He also flew the OH-13 ("C" model Bell I believe).

I love reading all the stories here, thanks for sharing. And to all the vets: Thank you for all you have done.

Porsimo
10-07-2005, 02:14 AM
My both grandfathers were in Winter War, but only my mother's father was in Continuation War.

I never asked him anything about the war which is a great shame as I know he would have gladly shared his stories. And what was even greater shame, he thought I wasn't interested in Finland's part in WW2 until shortly before he passed away. Finding out my interest made him glad though.
He told some stories at time to time although they were always the same ones. Luckily I've heard some more from my mother.

He served as a rapid-fire rifleman throughout the Winter and Continuation wars. He was eg. in Vuosalmi during the Soviet major offensive in Winter War, took part in the first Finnish offensive in the Continuation War against Korpiselk¤,
was stationed in Lotinanpelto at River Svir during the "Trench-War" and finally in Ihantala in Summer 1944. Of course there were other battlegrounds too, but these were the most important I think...

The stories I know (places and timing unknown to me):

Winter War:
The squad in which my grandfather belonged got a task to carry out a "violent reconnaissance" mission to the enemy lines. It turned into a failure when they ran into a strong enemy patrol in a narrow passage between two hills. As they were clearly outnumbered, the squad leader told them to split a try to reach own lines everybody on their own.
The only way out were the hillsides because the path they came was fully open and they would've been slaughtered on the spot if they'd try to flee that way.
Luckily the hillsides were covered with young pines which gave them a little protection. Grandfather said the worst part was to hear "explosive" (probably dum-dums) bullets cracking in the trees behind when he ran up the steep hillside in a deep snow. Well, he made it, but two of his squad didn't.

Continuation War:
The only thing my grandfather ever told me about the attack to Korpiselk¤ was about the artillery preparation. He told it was horrible to watch and at the same time very thrilling to see 200 gun firing the village for two hours. He said it was like "giving the enenmy back their own medicine". I think it must've felt really great "demonstration of firepower" after the Winter War when Finnish artillery was badly lacking of ammunition.

One time his squad was crossing a swamp when suddenly a machinegun opened fire from the treeline ahead. They ditched into the long grass and the mg kept shooting over them. He said the bullets were buffetting the grass all around them and IIRC one guy wounded.
They decided to crawl back and flank the mg position but by then the gunners had already left with the mg.

And then there were of course the comedy classic, although not so funny back then... Once his squad got bounced by a Sturmovik which made them to run around a large stone for quite a while. Don't know if the Sturmo ran out of ammo or just got bored but finally it flew away without results.

The only thing he ever told me about Ihantala was a description how dead bodies were floating in blood on a rocky ground. I'm not sure if I remember right, but I think this was the first sight he saw when he came there. His unit was one those reinforcements sent from the River Svir and which arrived in the beginnig of the battle of Ihantala.


His oldest brother was killed during a battle in the civil war on the red side in 1918 and his youngest brother fell nine days before the end of Winter War. His last brother had left for Canada in the 1920's.

Sambt
10-07-2005, 09:18 AM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
Sad about your great uncle. The habits and baggage that War gives to those that experiece it is both amusing and heart breaking. My cousin BoBo [US Navy,see above story], brought home the habit of eating his food really fast, I mean really fast. It was embarrasing to eat with him in a restuarant. He was asked why he ate so fast and his reply was, "You never knew when the alarm would sound 'battle stations' or how long you would be there without chow and you ate when you could, fast.
This story is a heart breaker. Jack saw a lot of combat with the US Army in the PTO. I read orders awarding him the Silver Star for stopping a Japanese assault from over running his position. He was a machine gunner and told his buddies to "get out of here"
. The order read that alone he killed over 25 japanese soldiers and stopped the assault allowing his unit to regroup. He said the body count was closer to 50. I told him he should have gotten the Congressional Medal of Honor. He replied,"I was glad to get out of there with my ***".
You would think that over the years that alone would produce nightmares. Not so with Jack. It was a Japanese officer he had trapped in a house in the Phillapines. He said he could have taken him prisoner. "I stalked him to kill him. I didn't have to kill him". "Jack, I said,it was war". He replied," I didn't have to kill him".
I then said to Jack that I had almost ten years of military service and no combat experience. Now here it is. Jack said to me,"You have not missed a thing, your hands are clean".
To carry that burden around the rest of your life must be overwhelming, multiply the above story by millions and you begin to understand why vets are hesitant to talk.
Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Jack

In reading my post about Jack a light bulb went off. let me share this thought that I, at this time, cannot verify. For some reason When Jack and I were together he would talk about some of his war experiences. It could be that I told him I was in the Paratroopers and he was impress somehow and it became a sort of bond. At any rate here is the great flash.

Jack brought into work one day Japanese flags, headbands and a Nambu Pistol just to show
me some things he picked up on the battlefield. He said, "I want you to have this Nambu pistol as I no longer have an interest in this stuff". "How did you come by this pistol,Jack"? "I took it off a dead Jap officer". Bingo! I never associated that pistol with the Japanese Officer he killed in that house untill I read my own post. If it is indeed true then by giving the pistol away he somehow was trying to rid himself of the guilt he felt.

Now. If there is anyone that lives in SW Virginia please come to my house and kick my ***. I sold that Nambu to a history buff to get funds for a 45. WHAT WAS I THINKING. Oh, BTW am I boring you? Sam

VFThunderboy
10-07-2005, 04:51 PM
Ive heard that Bud Anderson (357th, Yeager, etc) used to fly around in one of the warbird sims a couple years ago...

Wilburnator
10-07-2005, 05:42 PM
Just as Ivan mentioned, MonroeQ is the only one I know of. He was in the real 353rd FG. He recently had open heart surgery and is doing well, he's been in the hyperlobby several times since his operation.

You can read a little bit about him here...

http://353rdfightergroup.com/Historic/MonroeQWilliams.htm

masaker2005
10-08-2005, 03:35 AM
My grandfather was partisan fightning against German ocupator. But he doesn't talk much about it. All I know is that he lost both brothers and he was prisioner from 1941-1942.

sapre
10-08-2005, 09:04 AM
My grandfather on the Japanese side served in China.
But I don't know much about it because he died 20 years before I was born and my mother wasn't intrested to ask him while he was alive.
All I know is he was carrying ammonution for artillery and he came back home with his body covered in lice and harmonica.
My grandfather on the American didn't go to war, although his brother was a navigator on a B25 in the pacific.

Sambt
10-08-2005, 11:44 AM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
Sad about your great uncle. The habits and baggage that War gives to those that experiece it is both amusing and heart breaking. My cousin BoBo [US Navy,see above story], brought home the habit of eating his food really fast, I mean really fast. It was embarassing to eat with him in a restuarant. He was asked why he ate so fast and his reply was, "You never knew when the alarm would sound 'battle stations' or how long you would be there without chow and you ate when you could, fast.
This story is a heart breaker. Jack saw a lot of combat with the US Army in the PTO. I read orders awarding him the Silver Star for stopping a Japanese assault from over running his position. He was a machine gunner and told his buddies to "get out of here"
. The order read that alone he killed over 25 japanese soldiers and stopped the assault allowing his unit to regroup. He said the body count was closer to 50. I told him he should have gotten the Congressional Medal of Honor. He replied,"I was glad to get out of there with my ***".
You would think that over the years that alone would produce nightmares. Not so with Jack. It was a Japanese officer he had trapped in a house in the Phillapines. He said he could have taken him prisoner. "I stalked him to kill him. I didn't have to kill him". "Jack, I said,it was war". He replied," I didn't have to kill him".
I then said to Jack that I had almost ten years of military service and no combat experience. Now here it is. Jack said to me,"You have not missed a thing, your hands are clean".
To carry that burden around the rest of your life must be overwhelming, multiply the above story by millions and you begin to understand why vets are hesitant to talk.
Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Jack

In reading my post about Jack a light bulb went off. let me share this thought that I, at this time, cannot verify. For some reason When Jack and I were together he would talk about some of his war experiences. It could be that I told him I was in the Paratroopers and he was impress somehow and it became a sort of bond. At any rate here is the great flash.

Jack brought into work one day Japanese flags, headbands and a Nambu Pistol just to show
me some things he picked up on the battlefield. He said, "I want you to have this Nambu pistol as I no longer have an interest in this stuff". "How did you come by this pistol,Jack"? "I took it off a dead Jap officer". Bingo! I never associated that pistol with the Japanese Officer he killed in that house untill I read my own post. If it is indeed true then by giving the pistol away he somehow was trying to rid himself of the guilt he felt.

Now. If there is anyone that lives in SW Virginia please come to my house and kick my ***. I sold that Nambu to a history buff to get funds for a 45. WHAT WAS I THINKING. Oh, BTW am I boring you? Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Jack and Wes

There is obviously an interest in this thread due to the hits it receives. I will continue to contribute as long as there is interest. This post will try to show you younger guys what these Vets were thinking. I am going to briefly try to show perhaps a contrast in how they felt about things related to war. Keep in mind I knew these two Vets and liked them very much.

Jack again

This is how Jack felt about the Japanese in his latter years, how he felt when they were trying to kill him I don't know. He related this story to me."My platoon leader came to me and asked me if I wanted to go behind the lines to retrieve the body of my best buddy killed on a patrol. I was going to go on my own but now I had permission to go. I picked up a couple of .45's and got another buddy to go with me. The Japs were thick as fleas and they were Japanese Marines and those guys were not afraid either".

Jack showed a respect for his enemy even as a young infantrymen. In his latter years he had this to say. "I hold no ill feelings toward the Japanese. That whole affair {WW2} was just so much B.S.anyway". Interesting comments.

Wes

Wes was colorful and I liked him. He was a combat vet of the PTO as well. Guadalcanal to the Phillipines. We were talking one day about some of his experiences and I asked him what he feared most in combat."Banzi charges were scary,but all you had to do was shoot and down they went. You had a certain amount of control, he said. The thing that would petrify me in combat were those **** Jap knee mortars. A round would land near you and miss but you never knew where the next would hit". note: the knee mortar as it was called had no elevation or traverse,and it's aim was controled by a scared and nervous Japanese soldier.

Bronze Star

Wes explained how he won the Bronze Star."The Japs were laying some shells into our rest area. A few of us were kind of drunk. We jumped into some trucks that were in danger and moved them out of harms way. We received the BS for being heros. The reason we moved the trucks was because they contained our booze and the still we used to make it".

I asked Wes about stories of knocking out gold teeth from dead Japanese with rifle butts and he said it was true. Very softly, as if he didn't want anyone else to hear, he said," I have a little bag myself". He said this with a shiver and a grimace as if he were ashamed of himself. For some unknown twisted reason I wanted him to bring me those teeth so I could see them. He never did.

And now a parting note. Wes was a gentleman caught up into cicumstances of the times in which he lived. Someone told him he had to forgive and forget. His only reply was short."For three years the Japs tried to kill me".

So there you have it. More? Or am I boring you?

Sam

CornbreadPattie
10-08-2005, 08:55 PM
that was great.

Ishmael932
10-09-2005, 12:53 AM
My Grandfather went to sea on square-riggers in 1905. He had his Sailor's Union of the Pacific Card signed by the founder, Andy Ferusuth. Being on the west coast, he was never involved in WW1.

My father went to sea as a merchant seaman in 1939. He was 2 days out of Pearl on 12/7/41 heading there. As a merchant seaman, he had a critical job skill which gave him a draft deferment for the entire war. Since his critical job skill was taking troops to the invasion beaches and dropping them off, he saw quite a bit of action though he was a civilian throughout. I call him the Inadvertant Pacifist for that reason.

As a civilian, he took part in the Dutch Harbor convoys for the Attu & Kiska invasions. Then he said screw this cold and went to the East coast in time for the Invasions of North Africa, Sicily, Salerno and Anzio in Italy. He came back to the states, did a year in San Quentin for armed robbery(Liquor stores). When he got out of stir, he went west and took part in the invasions of Iwo Jima, Okinawa and the Japanese occupation.

So in 1946, a year after the war was over, he was drafted into the Army. The first thing he did in boot camp was piss off his Drill Instructor because at the first dress inspection, he had more campaign ribbons than his DI did. When the DI started yelling at him, my father just pulled out his wallet and started handing the DI cards saying,"Bearer is Entitled to Wear", on them. After the 12th one, the DI shut up & never bothered him again.

As for me, I spent 6 years USN as a destroyer sonarman hunting the great steel whales. I served from 1972-78 at the close of the Vietnam War(Gun Line). I served aboard USS Schofield(DEG-3) & USS Elmer Montgomery(DE-1082). I found 7 confirmed Russian submarines, sailed around the world the hard way(halfway to the west & halfway to the east). I visited 27 countries on 4 continents, sailed 4 of the 5 oceans & 6 of the 7 seas. Ironically enough, I had a former crewmmember of a Foxtrot Diesel sub I tracked across the Med tow my car home from Burbank to Pasadena.

carguy_
10-09-2005, 02:06 AM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Porsimo:
And then there were of course the comedy classic, although not so funny back then... Once his squad got bounced by a Sturmovik which made them to run around a large stone for quite a while. Don't know if the Sturmo ran out of ammo or just got bored but finally it flew away without results. </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Hilarious http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/16x16_smiley-very-happy.gif

SOLO_Bones
10-09-2005, 04:55 AM
This is my father...
http://www.thememoryproject.com/digital-archive/profile...ectionid=75&cnf=wwII (http://www.thememoryproject.com/digital-archive/profile.cfm?collectionid=75&amp;cnf=wwII)

I'm quite proud of him. I still never tire of talking to him about his war experiences.

ytareh
10-09-2005, 06:17 AM
Great to read all these reports.SOLO it was interesting to read that your father had to 'escape' from the Russians after they reached his POW camp.It really was a bizarre situation that as the war ended the former allies-Soviet and Western were warming up for The Cold War.Its been mentioned here a bit but imagine if that had gotten out of hand eg Patton once reported as being in favour of continuing drive East.Doesnt bear thinking about....I suppose history is full of these pivotal points eg Fall of Berlin Wall could have just as easily been a bloodbath. Thanks to all the Veterans for reports!

Sambt
10-09-2005, 10:00 PM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
I will elaborate on the wild naval shell,and how it wound up in my backyard. At the time I was living with my grandparents on the lower Eastern Shore of Maryland. My parents were living in Baltimore as my father was working at Sparrows Point Shipyard building Liberty Ships. Our home was on the lower end of Deal Island {Wenona}. West of where we lived out in the Chesapeake Bay was a Gunnery range use by the Patuxent Naval Air Station. I would climb up on an outbuilding to watch the shells explode in the marsh. The range was only about eight to ten miles away and most of the time you could see the salvos as they hit.
This shelling went on almost every day. At night flares lite up the sky as the explosions shook the ground. I often wondered at that time how you could feel the ground shake across all that water. Our school had huge windows and on occasions those windows would shake and rattle to the point you thought they would brake. One day I saw a teacher duck as she thouht the windows were coming out for sure. My grandmother caught a glass that was shook off a shelf. No one complained about the "bombing" as the locals called it. We were all at war. As to the wild shell no one was injured and as far as I know it was the only one that got loose. The navy investigated of course, picked up some shrapnall and that was it. Exciting times for a little kid.
More? Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

I am going to try an give you an idea of how the dramatic events of WW2 impacted your life to the point where that period in history for you was the most important part of your life. Ask a military Vet or anyone who remembers that time and most will say the same thing.

A Normal Day

You get up in the morning ready for school. On the breakfast table in front of you sits a box of cereal. Instead of Scooby Doo or Sponge Bob you see a cutout of a P-38 or a tank. You couldn't wait for that box to get empty to cut those things out so you can play war.

You get to school and give the teacher cans that your mother has wash and crushed for you to give for the war effort. You may be asked if you want to purchase any war stamps today. Most kids had a stamp book and if you had a dime you bought a stamp and put in that book. There may be an air raid drill today complete with loud bells and nervous teachers.

For supper tonight we are having porkchops. It's been a long time. No meat ration stamps, no meat. Soldiers need more meat to fight. Everyone knows that and no one really complains. Saw a very long train today. No shiny new cars. Loaded with planes , tanks and artillery pieces, really neat stuff. Also saw a formation of planes today. To high to tell what they were. They always seem to fly so high you can't be sure what type of planes they are.

The Park

My mother has enough ration stamps and is going to buy me new shoes today. She tells me to be carefull with them because they have to last me for she has others to buy for as well and it may be a while before there is enough stamps to buy more. We are going to walk to the park after buying the shoes. Gas is rationed too,and in short supply. You walk instead of ride. Walking by the houses, you see little banners with stars on them displayed with pride in a lot of windows. They indicate that in that house there is loved ones serving and defending our country in the military. Look, there is a convoy of trucks loaded with soldiers, I wonder where they are going? There is a band playing in the park today. On a platform there are people selling war bonds. Every time someone buys a bond they raise this small tethered blimp a little higher. Man, that thing is really up there. We have to go home now for it is getting dark. There may be a blackout to night. They say we are to far away to be bombed but we practice for it anyway. Sure enough, got home just in time for the blackout. Someone has turned a light on and almost immediately there is a knock on the door. It's an Air Raid
Warden. He said to "turn off that light, it's a Blackout. Don't you know there is a war on".

There you have a day in the life of someone that experienced what you just read. It just enveloped you. The war was so in your face that in everything you did it was there. From being a kid to a grownup it was the same. I have a German couple that are my neighbors. They grew up in Germany as children during the war. The stories they tell is truly tragic. As Sherman said "War is hell". I look back and say to myself " what was that all about". There is nothing I can do. The memories are there and they will always be there. Even to this day I will go back to that time on almost a daily basis. Talk to a Vet and he will say almost to a man that nothing that took place in their lives since could compare with the WW2 experience.

There is more. Or am I boring you?

Sam

huggy87
10-10-2005, 08:50 AM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Bearcat99:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by JFC_Warhawk:
I was also A-7, west coast (VA-195) Bearcat. You had to have been in Lemoore since it was the only place on the west coast for them. But I missed the vietnam era by 6 years. </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

LOL... yeah.. good ole NAS Lemoore.... Va-22... I was there from 75-77. </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

I'm living in lemoore now. You probably wouldn't believe that it is now a town 22,000 people (probably about 7K when you were here). There is still no shortage of dairies.

huggy87
10-10-2005, 08:55 AM
Droopsnoot...

Are you here? Did you ever come back under a different name?

He was a B-29 crewman that used to frequent these boards until one of the typical A-bomb threads sent him off in a huff. He didn't take to kindly to having 17 year old revisionists lecture him on morality.

ytareh
10-10-2005, 10:40 AM
Sambt your stuff is pure gold and your writing is in a captivating style that is good enough to publish/professional yet keeps the 'man(kid) on the street' simplicity.Theres no need to ask if youre boring people...as a 34 yr old irish guy Im fascinated. Im sure your many compatriots on the boards are enthralled.Thanks!

faelas
10-10-2005, 11:16 AM
First let me say to all those vets and others who have war stories to tell that they are never boring. Even stories about what it was like to be a civilian during WW2 are fascinating. I mean look at how things are now. During Vietnam there was a relatively high war consciousness but nothing like WW2. Now during Desert Storm most people's daily lives hardly changed at all, just what they saw on TV and talked about at the water cooler. So WW2 as a kid seems utterly fascinating to me. Probly a lot of others too.

Now as for myself, I'm in my late 30's so I wasn't in WW2 or Vietnam, but I was in Desert Storm. My grandfather on my mother's side was a bugler in a Tank Destroyer company during WW2 though. He never really talked much about the war, and being a military man most of my life I respected that. But I still pressed him for stories occasionally. One time he told me about picking apples from an orchard somewhere in Italy. He stood on his friend's back to reach them. Later his friend was killed. That's about all he ever said to me. Interestingly though, he has a few photos of his unit reunions on the wall in his furnished basement. He must be very proud to display those photos all these years, but I'm sure the pain of losing some of his friends is what keeps him from trying to remember much. That's something I can relate to.

Not sure if anyone is interested in Gulf War stories, but I have a few interesting ones. I was in an M1 tank company in Germany when Desert Storm came. I was a good tanker but I was just a private, and that meant I was a loader in the turret, feeding the main gun. At 19 I was a smart kid, but not all that beefy. As loaders go, I was only average. Hefting 60lb main gun rounds all day was something I was not really well suited for, but god I loved that tank. During peacetime in garrison I would take any opportunity to get in the tank. I performed routine maintenance at least twice as often as necessary. My turret was always immaculately clean, perfumed and freshly painted with pics of supermodels taped to the turret wall. I was on a first name basis with every single nut and bolt in that tank, front to back and sideways. I could tell you exactly how many footprints were on my tank at any given moment. Looking back now, yeah, I was obsessed with my tank.

So anyway when we deployed to the gulf the only thing that mattered to the tank commanders in my unit was how fast a loader could feed that main gun. they overlooked things that a guy like me could do that the average lughead thick-neck loader couldn't. Because I performed maintenance so often, I could fix anything that broke on my tank without even looking at the manual. I knew tiny bits of info about my tank that not even seasoned veterans knew, partly because the M1A1 was a new tank at that time. I had hoarded spare parts for everything on the tank that had ever broken. Well anyway none of that mattered, and I was replaced on my tank by some guy whose biceps were thicker. But I was determined not to leave my tank. I went with my unit to Saudi Arabia, as a replacement in case anyone got hurt. To ensure that I was never far from my tank, I volunteered for any duty that kept me close to it. When the transportation platoon was short a couple guys I volunteered to drive ammo trucks to the front. I drove my truck right up to the tanks and parked next to them to hand main gun and MG ammo from the truck right to the crews. When the refueling guys were having a hard time I volunteered to drive the fuel trucks. Again I drove them right up to the tank, refueling them from my truck with a hose. When the supply clerk came down with dysentery (which was ironically just as common then as it was to the Germans and English during WW2 in the middle east) I volunteered to drive the supply truck.

The supply trains were endless, I remember standing on top of the company's deuce-and-a-half looking and seeing trucks and humvees of every description as far as the eye could see in both directions. Well, that was clearly too far away from the tanks! So I talked the corporal into driving the truck and whenever the convoy stopped I jumped off and ran a couple more trucks forward. I talked with the guys on the truck for a while, and when we stopped I went on up a few more trucks. In this way I started to catch up to my tank, but it was awfully slow going. During one stop, I could see some berms about a mile away, and I decided to go have a look. After a long walk, I made it to the berms to find enemy tanks still in them! they were deserted of course, but I checked for booby traps before mounting up on one. I was fascinated by the tanks the enemy used. The writing on the panels inside the turret was in three different languages! I noted Russian, Chinese and German instructions on most of the controls. All the ammo was still loaded, and the sponson boxes were still locked with padlocks. I grabbed a folding stock AK-47 and a bunch of gear and climbed down into the driver's hole. As I was admiring the driver€s machinegun (a machinegun firing through the front slope!) I heard a hissing sound! "Oh ****" I thought, "They must have left a grenade or an IED behind one of the main gun rounds!" So I was hustling like hell to get out of that tank, and I took a full fledged dive off the top of the turret. After landing face down in the sand, and waiting a few very tense minutes, I got up and walked back to the tank, and climbed back up on top. (Man I must have been crazy back then!) As I lay on the turret, head hanging inside, I saw a thin line of sand pouring into the turret from a small hole where an antenna or something used to be, that was what was causing the hissing sound! I laughed at myself but just as I was feeling safe again a helicopter came in. I thought, ****, I hope they don't catch me here, looting this enemy tank! And sure as hell the chopper landed right next to me and my new tank. Out hops two lieutenants wearing no-mex jumpsuits and sporting 45's (the Army had adopted the M-9 already but most units in Germany had yet to receive them). They come jogging over to me and I salute sheepishly. Grinning widely, they return my salute. "What have you got here? Is there any good stuff left?" I was shocked. They weren't interested in courts-martial ling me, they were souvenir hunting! So I immediately loosen my flak jacket and shoot the breeze with these two. turns out they are in some REMF job back at HQ and took the general's recon chopper for a spin to gather some booty, probly the closest to the enemy they've ever been. They invite me to trade with them, because it seems that they think I have "looting rights" to this tank (and I'm carrying a fully locked and loaded assault rifle... two actually) so I go and check out their helo. It's a "little bird", one of those Jet-Ranger types. The entire thing is crammed full of every kind of souvenir that one could stuff into a chopper. Rifles, machineguns, RPG's, helmets, uniforms, web gear... you could field a well armed squad with what they had in the back seat of that chopper. As I had a good mile to walk to get back to my truck, I decided to stick with what I had. "Mind if we have a look then, if you're all set?" "Help yourself sir." I replied. they immediately broke out a bolt-cutter and cut the lock off the sponson box. the thing was full of civilian gear. Clothing, knapsacks full of personal items, wallets with money still in them, photos of loved ones, the works. But the butter-bars weren't interested in that stuff. They only wanted "cool" loot. I tried to negotiate an AK-47 for a ride on the souvenir shopping lieuy's chopper, but there was nowhere for me to sit in the thing. So off they flew, in search of more war booty, while I was left hoofing it a mile back across the open desert to the supply trains. When I got within sight of them, I noticed some strange activity. A bunch of guys were on line, kneeling, weapons drawn, and aiming at ME! I threw up my hands and shouted "Hey you ***hole$, it's me!" and they let down their guard. Turns out some trigger happy trucker saw me coming back from those berms and thought I was a Bad Guy. "Didn't you guys just see that chopper land right next to me?!" I shouted at them. How anyone could miss a chopper landing a mile away in the open desert I'll never know, but nobody saw it. Anyway, I was stacked with spoils of war, which I kept by dumping everything out of my C-bag that I could live without. I still have that stuff, minus the AK-47's which were forbidden to keep after the war and a couple items I've sold over the years when times were hard.

One time after the fighting was over, as I was hanging around at the CP after dark, officers and enlisted who had business at the CP at night were all crowded around a small camp fire to listen and tell stories. I was designated to make the rounds and deliver the new challenge and password at the appointed hour, so I was hanging around waiting for the time to pass and listening to stories. Since I never made it onto a tank during the fighting (not that I never saw any fighting, just not on a tank... ironic now that I think about it) I just stood back in the shadows and listened. Suddenly the company commander came up, and sat down at the fire. He started talking about me, something that surprised me greatly since I thought he didn't even know my name. He said "I think Brown is the bravest man in the company. He'd do anything to stay with his unit, even drive a rolling bomb right into the battle." Now I'll never know if he just said that because I was standing there, or if he really meant it, but it was one of the proudest moments of my life.

Now that might be a relatively boring story as far as war stories goes. There's more, some quite a bit more bloody, but I will only tell those stories if people ask.

Faelas
aka: Adler Auge in HL

ytareh
10-10-2005, 06:20 PM
Thanks Faelas!

Sambt
10-10-2005, 09:25 PM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
I will elaborate on the wild naval shell,and how it wound up in my backyard. At the time I was living with my grandparents on the lower Eastern Shore of Maryland. My parents were living in Baltimore as my father was working at Sparrows Point Shipyard building Liberty Ships. Our home was on the lower end of Deal Island {Wenona}. West of where we lived out in the Chesapeake Bay was a Gunnery range use by the Patuxent Naval Air Station. I would climb up on an outbuilding to watch the shells explode in the marsh. The range was only about eight to ten miles away and most of the time you could see the salvos as they hit.
This shelling went on almost every day. At night flares lite up the sky as the explosions shook the ground. I often wondered at that time how you could feel the ground shake across all that water. Our school had huge windows and on occasions those windows would shake and rattle to the point you thought they would brake. One day I saw a teacher duck as she thouht the windows were coming out for sure. My grandmother caught a glass that was shook off a shelf. No one complained about the "bombing" as the locals called it. We were all at war. As to the wild shell no one was injured and as far as I know it was the only one that got loose. The navy investigated of course, picked up some shrapnall and that was it. Exciting times for a little kid.
More? Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

I am going to try an give you an idea of how the dramatic events of WW2 impacted your life to the point where that period in history for you was the most important part of your life. Ask a military Vet or anyone who remembers that time and most will say the same thing.

A Normal Day

You get up in the morning ready for school. On the breakfast table in front of you sits a box of cereal. Instead of Scooby Doo or Sponge Bob you see a cutout of a P-38 or a tank. You couldn't wait for that box to get empty to cut those things out so you can play war.

You get to school and give the teacher cans that your mother has wash and crushed for you to give for the war effort. You may be asked if you want to purchase any war stamps today. Most kids had a stamp book and if you had a dime you bought a stamp and put in that book. There may be an air raid drill today complete with loud bells and nervous teachers.

For supper tonight we are having porkchops. It's been a long time. No meat ration stamps, no meat. Soldiers need more meat to fight. Everyone knows that and no one really complains. Saw a very long train today. No shiny new cars. Loaded with planes , tanks and artillery pieces, really neat stuff. Also saw a formation of planes today. To high to tell what they were. They always seem to fly so high you can't be sure what type of planes they are.

The Park

My mother has enough ration stamps and is going to buy me new shoes today. She tells me to be carefull with them because they have to last me for she has others to buy for as well and it may be a while before there is enough stamps to buy more. We are going to walk to the park after buying the shoes. Gas is rationed too,and in short supply. You walk instead of ride. Walking by the houses, you see little banners with stars on them displayed with pride in a lot of windows. They indicate that in that house there is loved ones serving and defending our country in the military. Look, there is a convoy of trucks loaded with soldiers, I wonder where they are going? There is a band playing in the park today. On a platform there are people selling war bonds. Every time someone buys a bond they raise this small tethered blimp a little higher. Man, that thing is really up there. We have to go home now for it is getting dark. There may be a blackout to night. They say we are to far away to be bombed but we practice for it anyway. Sure enough, got home just in time for the blackout. Someone has turned a light on and almost immediately there is a knock on the door. It's an Air Raid
Warden. He said to "turn off that light, it's a Blackout. Don't you know there is a war on".

There you have a day in the life of someone that experienced what you just read. It just enveloped you. The war was so in your face that in everything you did it was there. From being a kid to a grownup it was the same. I have a German couple that are my neighbors. They grew up in Germany as children during the war. The stories they tell is truly tragic. As Sherman said "War is hell". I look back and say to myself " what was that all about". There is nothing I can do. The memories are there and they will always be there. Even to this day I will go back to that time on almost a daily basis. Talk to a Vet and he will say almost to a man that nothing that took place in their lives since could compare with the WW2 experience.

There is more. Or am I boring you?

Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2


Joe and Sam

First off I would like to thank Ytareh and Faelas for their kind words. I enjoy all the posts here as well. Faelas, more Please.

Joe and Sam are the main characters in this story of WW2. I am warning you right now that there is no happy ending for these two. This is sort of a spin off from the previous story and you will see how war can change your life style. The pork chops for supper mentioned in the story above brought back the memories of my parents making a big deal of that meal. Can you imagine that today? No. You can go to the local grocery store and buy all you want with out needing any ration stamps to buy meat. Not so doing the war and this is how some people over came the meat ration problem. They raised their own.

Now at the time of this story I was with my grandparents on the lower Eastern Shore of Maryland and they had a two acre lot. Keep in mind that every spare inch of land during the war had a bean planted in it,either for the war effort or your own pantry. Everone was encouraged to plant what they called a Victory Garden. My grandfather's name was Sam.

My grandmother's sister lived in Baltimore with her husband as he worked for Bethlehem Steel at Sparrows Point. They lived in the city with no room to plant a bean anywhere. The husband's name was Joe. Sam and Joe joined forces to beat this meat ration problem. This is how the grand plan worked. Joe put up all the financing for grandpa to raise two pigs on his lot and grandpa was to get one pig as his share for doing the work.

These cute little pigs arrived and were put in the pen and I helped to take care of them. They were the same size but looked different so they got names,Sam and Joe. Pigs are very smart and clean animals if given a chance to stay clean. The only fault they have is that they are also delicous. Well they became my pets and I could play with them with no fear.

The day came when Sam and Joe had to be turned into porkchops. That was a sad day for me and I could not stand to see the whole affair. I watch some of it and it was horrible for a kid to see. Now here is the irony of this thing. Joe in Baltimore got Sam and we got Joe. My Grandpa put various parts of Joe in the smoke house. I would not touch any part of that pig. A long time went by. One night at supper grandpa had a large slice of Joe on his plate and asked me to try a piece. "It is very good",he said. I very timidly took a piece and tried it. Grandpa was right, Joe was very good. Such is war.

More?

Sam

F4U_Flyer
10-10-2005, 10:42 PM
Ill add my little snipit for you guys.

My mom who passed away in 1985 was born in 1940 in Heidleburg Germany. Her father , my grandfather , was a doctor in the afrika korp ,years and areas i dont know. He was wounded by shrapenal and captured by the americans who he worked for after a stint in the hospital. He died in 1974 when the shrapenal in his head shifted and caused bleeding in his brain. I wish i had got to meet him.

My moms first recollection of the war was when an allied bomb went through there roof , down 3 floors and into the cellar , sticking in the mud without detonating! Her grandfather who refused to take cover during air raids was sitting in a chair in the attic watching through a window and the bomb just missed him by a few feet. At the end of the war she said she was amazed when a group of american soldiers entered her house and she saw the first african american she had ever seen!
After the war she told of numerous times they as kids would be out playing and find a boot sticking up out of a bush and pulling it only to find a foot sticking out. Also she told of kids killed by unexploded bombs they would find and mess with.
Not much but its all i got!

Thanks to all for there stories.

Sambt
10-11-2005, 11:43 PM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
I will elaborate on the wild naval shell,and how it wound up in my backyard. At the time I was living with my grandparents on the lower Eastern Shore of Maryland. My parents were living in Baltimore as my father was working at Sparrows Point Shipyard building Liberty Ships. Our home was on the lower end of Deal Island {Wenona}. West of where we lived out in the Chesapeake Bay was a Gunnery range use by the Patuxent Naval Air Station. I would climb up on an outbuilding to watch the shells explode in the marsh. The range was only about eight to ten miles away and most of the time you could see the salvos as they hit.
This shelling went on almost every day. At night flares lite up the sky as the explosions shook the ground. I often wondered at that time how you could feel the ground shake across all that water. Our school had huge windows and on occasions those windows would shake and rattle to the point you thought they would brake. One day I saw a teacher duck as she thouht the windows were coming out for sure. My grandmother caught a glass that was shook off a shelf. No one complained about the "bombing" as the locals called it. We were all at war. As to the wild shell no one was injured and as far as I know it was the only one that got loose. The navy investigated of course, picked up some shrapnall and that was it. Exciting times for a little kid.
More? Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

I am going to try an give you an idea of how the dramatic events of WW2 impacted your life to the point where that period in history for you was the most important part of your life. Ask a military Vet or anyone who remembers that time and most will say the same thing.

A Normal Day

You get up in the morning ready for school. On the breakfast table in front of you sits a box of cereal. Instead of Scooby Doo or Sponge Bob you see a cutout of a P-38 or a tank. You couldn't wait for that box to get empty to cut those things out so you can play war.

You get to school and give the teacher cans that your mother has wash and crushed for you to give for the war effort. You may be asked if you want to purchase any war stamps today. Most kids had a stamp book and if you had a dime you bought a stamp and put in that book. There may be an air raid drill today complete with loud bells and nervous teachers.

For supper tonight we are having porkchops. It's been a long time. No meat ration stamps, no meat. Soldiers need more meat to fight. Everyone knows that and no one really complains. Saw a very long train today. No shiny new cars. Loaded with planes , tanks and artillery pieces, really neat stuff. Also saw a formation of planes today. To high to tell what they were. They always seem to fly so high you can't be sure what type of planes they are.

The Park

My mother has enough ration stamps and is going to buy me new shoes today. She tells me to be carefull with them because they have to last me for she has others to buy for as well and it may be a while before there is enough stamps to buy more. We are going to walk to the park after buying the shoes. Gas is rationed too,and in short supply. You walk instead of ride. Walking by the houses, you see little banners with stars on them displayed with pride in a lot of windows. They indicate that in that house there is loved ones serving and defending our country in the military. Look, there is a convoy of trucks loaded with soldiers, I wonder where they are going? There is a band playing in the park today. On a platform there are people selling war bonds. Every time someone buys a bond they raise this small tethered blimp a little higher. Man, that thing is really up there. We have to go home now for it is getting dark. There may be a blackout to night. They say we are to far away to be bombed but we practice for it anyway. Sure enough, got home just in time for the blackout. Someone has turned a light on and almost immediately there is a knock on the door. It's an Air Raid
Warden. He said to "turn off that light, it's a Blackout. Don't you know there is a war on".

There you have a day in the life of someone that experienced what you just read. It just enveloped you. The war was so in your face that in everything you did it was there. From being a kid to a grownup it was the same. I have a German couple that are my neighbors. They grew up in Germany as children during the war. The stories they tell is truly tragic. As Sherman said "War is hell". I look back and say to myself " what was that all about". There is nothing I can do. The memories are there and they will always be there. Even to this day I will go back to that time on almost a daily basis. Talk to a Vet and he will say almost to a man that nothing that took place in their lives since could compare with the WW2 experience.

There is more. Or am I boring you?

Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2


Joe and Sam

First off I would like to thank Ytareh and Faelas for their kind words. I enjoy all the posts here as well. Faelas, more Please.

Joe and Sam are the main characters in this story of WW2. I am warning you right now that there is no happy ending for these two. This is sort of a spin off from the previous story and you will see how war can change your life style. The pork chops for supper mentioned in the story above brought back the memories of my parents making a big deal of that meal. Can you imagine that today? No. You can go to the local grocery store and buy all you want with out needing any ration stamps to buy meat. Not so doing the war and this is how some people over came the meat ration problem. They raised their own.

Now at the time of this story I was with my grandparents on the lower Eastern Shore of Maryland and they had a two acre lot. Keep in mind that every spare inch of land during the war had a bean planted in it,either for the war effort or your own pantry. Everone was encouraged to plant what they called a Victory Garden. My grandfather's name was Sam.

My grandmother's sister lived in Baltimore with her husband as he worked for Bethlehem Steel at Sparrows Point. They lived in the city with no room to plant a bean anywhere. The husband's name was Joe. Sam and Joe joined forces to beat this meat ration problem. This is how the grand plan worked. Joe put up all the financing for grandpa to raise two pigs on his lot and grandpa was to get one pig as his share for doing the work.

These cute little pigs arrived and were put in the pen and I helped to take care of them. They were the same size but looked different so they got names,Sam and Joe. Pigs are very smart and clean animals if given a chance to stay clean. The only fault they have is that they are also delicous. Well they became my pets and I could play with them with no fear.

The day came when Sam and Joe had to be turned into porkchops. That was a sad day for me and I could not stand to see the whole affair. I watch some of it and it was horrible for a kid to see. Now here is the irony of this thing. Joe in Baltimore got Sam and we got Joe. My Grandpa put various parts of Joe in the smoke house. I would not touch any part of that pig. A long time went by. One night at supper grandpa had a large slice of Joe on his plate and asked me to try a piece. "It is very good",he said. I very timidly took a piece and tried it. Grandpa was right, Joe was very good. Such is war.

More?

Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

Prisoners of War

There was a German POW camp about 25 miles from were we lived. We were coming home from school one day and just before I was to get off the bus there was a sudden commotion. Someone yelled, "Look, German POW's".I was sitting down and by the time I got a chance to look we were passing them. I was not able to see their backs so I only saw the front of the group. They had to have been marked on the back with POW for them to have been recognize as such.

Now I am going to try and describe to you what I saw. First let me share with you some of the comments from the girls onboard. "I heard that some of these German soldiers are cute. Look, some of them are really handsome. This is the first time I have seen any Germans and they look nice". One of the girls on the bus that was passing out these compliments was a sixteen year old by the name of Ann.

There were 15 to 20 men guarded by only a few soldiers. They were cutting grass with sling blades and seemed to be enjoying the attention they were getting. The bus was going slow as I was going to get off and I was able to get a good look. I did not see any in German uniforms. They appeared to have on the early GI fatigue coverall uniform with the hat to match. They were a well fed healthy looking group of men. Even as young as I was at the time I was impressed with the fact they looked like soldiers. They didn't have any horns either.

Apparantly some of the POW's in that camp enjoyed their stay there. A few years after the War was over someone pointed to a fellow and said that guy was a POW here and liked it so much he wanted to come back to America when the War was over. This camp was located on the lower Eastern Shore of Maryland,and this part of the state had excellent farming and I am sure most of these POW's worked there.

That was the only time I saw POW"s. That camp was close to where I lived and I do not recall any alarms over any escape attempts.

Ann

Ann was one of the girls on the bus that day admiring German soldiers. On 13 Feb. 1944 her admiration for anything German ceased. It was on that day over the skies of Germany that her uncle was killed by German flak while on a bombing run. He was a waist gunner on a B-17. But this is another story and it is a good one. I am probably boring you so, bye.

More? Sam

Schmouddle-WT
10-12-2005, 03:30 AM
Hi folks,

this would be a little history lesson I learned in times which were not suited to praise our heroes.
When I was 8 (1987), I was keen to history of our family and my father told me about it, he said my grandfather was a legionaire in Russia and he showed me the pictures. When I asked what does it mean "legionaire in Russia", he told me my grandfather fought in WWI, at eastern front and become a POW there.

Only then I realised about important part of our history, not taught at school at these times. It was unfit to the official communist history of our country.

My father told me -

Before and during WWI, Bohemia (Czech Kingdome) was a part of Austrian-Hungarian Empire, being on the "wrong" side of the conflict. Czechs did not want to fight for the empire as it was neglecting rights of Czech people (especially in comparison with Hungars).
The Czech and Slovakian soldiers were defecting to the enemy on both fronts, and the deserters formed an indipendent units in Western armies fighting against Germans and Austria-Hungarians.

The goal was to establish a indpendent Czech state as the units were be on the (supposingly) winning side of the conflict.

However in the eastern front the situation was not that simple, deserters were put into POW camps and guarded. Due to unstable political situation both russian parties - white (conservative) and red (comunists) were hesitating to arm an uncontrollable army of desertist and POW's. As the world conflict on the east ended by cease-fire in 1917, and the political situation in Russia worsend, Czech desertists were moved to Siberia, in order to be out of the ongoing conflict, because both sides were not certain how to deal with the rather big numbers of Czech desertist and POW's. However these were not allowed to return home, but were kept sent further east to Siberia.
At those times (1918) as the white russian authorities were struggling to defeat communists, Czech desertist became threatened and directly attacked by communists units trying to seize the whole country. Later on, after the declaration of independence of Czechoslovakia the "legion" as the Czech and Slovakian desertists and POW's called themselves become a part of new-born Czechoslovakian Army (strangely enough, the 1919 Czechoslovakian Army had more soldiers abroad than at home). Legions in Russia took action to arm itself well and seized the only railorad connecting European and Asian parts of the country and begin to move west. As this force was a deadly threat to communists, who were winning the fight for power in Russia, they called the Czech legions its enemies and started to fight it. The only wish of Legion was to return home, as soon as possible. The political effort, lead by President Masaryk, led to opening a way through Japan and US to Europe. Legions were ordered to turn back and head east.At a moment, our legions were at control of whole Far East railroad, effectively one-third of whole Russia, just as they have been on their way home. Legions, lead by skilled Czech officers become a very effective force and were fighting communists while moving east, deep into Siberia and finally to the port of Vladivostok. There they embarked ships provided by US goverment and were sailed to San Francisco and then by the railroad to the East Coast. Again they were on the ships, this time steaming to Europe. Last Czech Legionaire arrived to Czechoslovakia in 1921, three years after the WWI ended. .

My grandfather took this epic journey home, over the whole world just to return where he belonged. Unfortunately, his health was affected by the bad conditions he was encountering in Russia and he died of pneumonia in 1945, being just 43 years old. I never seen him, as I was born in 1979, and my father only remembers him from his very youth (he was born in 1938). The only things we have in remeberance of my grandfather are few old pictures of him in uniform and the high military decoration he received back home as being a legionaire.

During communist era here (1948 - 1989) it was unheard of our Russian legionaries, they become a unfit part of history, just because they have been fighting evil on they journey home. I was told by my father not to tell at school what he told me as it could bring problems to us. I think at that time I realised the commies are wrong. But that is anther story.

ytareh
10-12-2005, 01:06 PM
Sam youve got the makings of a good website (or maybe you could contribute to one already set up) with all your memories

BSS_Goat
10-12-2005, 01:29 PM
Love it Sam, keep 'em coming!

Sambt
10-12-2005, 09:29 PM
I am glad you are enjoying these little memories. A special thanks to Ytareh and Bss Goat for taking the time to post and let me know the stories are being read. I will continue as long as there is interest or until the well runs dry. I have some more of course and will post one maybe tomorrow. I am doing an upgrade so bear with me.

BTW I post the stories using quotes so that they sort of stay together. So I am asking you guys is this method O.k.or should I do it one post at a time? Thanks again for your kind comments.

Sam

AirborneCoyote
10-12-2005, 11:36 PM
Sambt, these stories are keeping me up. I should have been asleep long ago, but I can't seem to stop reading them.

They're far from boring, believe me.

taldrg
10-13-2005, 05:07 PM
Well lets start with my age. I am in my eighty first(81)year. Been flying in Warbirds sim since 97 and now am in PF. What got me in PF is the name "Pacific Fighters" which I was. Now for the rest of the story.
Hung around the local airport(grass strip)starting at age 6. Doing odd jobs and changin' oil and cuttin' grass and taking lessons for my pay.Knew how to fly by age 13.
WW II started and I am just 16. Tryed to go to Canada and get in the RCAF but that's another story.
Did get in the AAF and went to Chanute AAB in Illinois but because of an accident at age 5 which was a skull fracture(they found it out)I was let out and went home.
I was really mad so I joined the U.S. Marines. Applyed for the Air Wing and got it but no flying, just regular mud Marine stuff.
Now it gets better. On Guadalcanal helping the mechanics on the flight line I would run up the engines for them and taxi and stuff like that. I am now 17 1/2 old now. Well when we went to Bougainville I was still on the flight line and one day when I was doing a taxi test(I later blamed it on the hot sun)I just run the SBD up, checked the mags, and took the d---ed thing off.
When I landed and taxied to the line I thought of all the years I would spend in the brig. The sgt. hopped on the wing and said,"is everything OK?" I just said yep and didn't hear any more about it.
After that word got around that I could fly and it got gooder and gooder. Like F6F-TBF-SBD-F4U.
Met Pappy Boyington on Bouganville. Made just one combat patrol flight and they made me a SGT.
There were(I think)85 non-com pilots in the Marine Corp.
There's more but, that was a looonnnggg time ago.
taldrg
First Marine Air Wing
Marine Air Group 25
WW II

turnipkiller
10-13-2005, 05:31 PM
Schmouddle-WT, your grandfathers story is somewhat similar to my grandfathers story.
Old Granddad, (we had a Young Granddad and an Old granddad in my family lol) was Polish and fought on the eastern front in WW1 under Austria-Hungary against Russia in a cavalry unit. Poland also had military units called legions, and all but one agreed to fight with A-H with the understanding they fought the Russians exclusively, with the intent of securing a once again independant Poland. After WW1, political and military reasons left Poland vulnerable to attack, and Communists attacked Poland. He fought in this conflict from 1918-20 in an artillery unit. Poland was victorious against the Communists.

His brother also fought, but I am not sure whether it was WW1 or the Russo-Polish war where he was listed as MIA. My dad says every Christmas Granddad would cry because of his lost brother and not knowing what happened to him.

When Russia once again controlled Poland at the end of WW2, the Polish victory, and essentially the entire war after WW1 was erased from Communist history. Persecutions and murders occured well after WW2 against those who participated in the war.

All I have left of Granddad are fragments of his military book from 1920 which I am working on translating to English, and a photograph of him and two others in uniform. One of the two could be his brother, but no one will ever know now. http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_frown.gif

Sambt
10-13-2005, 06:49 PM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
I will elaborate on the wild naval shell,and how it wound up in my backyard. At the time I was living with my grandparents on the lower Eastern Shore of Maryland. My parents were living in Baltimore as my father was working at Sparrows Point Shipyard building Liberty Ships. Our home was on the lower end of Deal Island {Wenona}. West of where we lived out in the Chesapeake Bay was a Gunnery range use by the Patuxent Naval Air Station. I would climb up on an outbuilding to watch the shells explode in the marsh. The range was only about eight to ten miles away and most of the time you could see the salvos as they hit.
This shelling went on almost every day. At night flares lite up the sky as the explosions shook the ground. I often wondered at that time how you could feel the ground shake across all that water. Our school had huge windows and on occasions those windows would shake and rattle to the point you thought they would brake. One day I saw a teacher duck as she thouht the windows were coming out for sure. My grandmother caught a glass that was shook off a shelf. No one complained about the "bombing" as the locals called it. We were all at war. As to the wild shell no one was injured and as far as I know it was the only one that got loose. The navy investigated of course, picked up some shrapnall and that was it. Exciting times for a little kid.
More? Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

I am going to try an give you an idea of how the dramatic events of WW2 impacted your life to the point where that period in history for you was the most important part of your life. Ask a military Vet or anyone who remembers that time and most will say the same thing.

A Normal Day

You get up in the morning ready for school. On the breakfast table in front of you sits a box of cereal. Instead of Scooby Doo or Sponge Bob you see a cutout of a P-38 or a tank. You couldn't wait for that box to get empty to cut those things out so you can play war.

You get to school and give the teacher cans that your mother has wash and crushed for you to give for the war effort. You may be asked if you want to purchase any war stamps today. Most kids had a stamp book and if you had a dime you bought a stamp and put in that book. There may be an air raid drill today complete with loud bells and nervous teachers.

For supper tonight we are having porkchops. It's been a long time. No meat ration stamps, no meat. Soldiers need more meat to fight. Everyone knows that and no one really complains. Saw a very long train today. No shiny new cars. Loaded with planes , tanks and artillery pieces, really neat stuff. Also saw a formation of planes today. To high to tell what they were. They always seem to fly so high you can't be sure what type of planes they are.

The Park

My mother has enough ration stamps and is going to buy me new shoes today. She tells me to be carefull with them because they have to last me for she has others to buy for as well and it may be a while before there is enough stamps to buy more. We are going to walk to the park after buying the shoes. Gas is rationed too,and in short supply. You walk instead of ride. Walking by the houses, you see little banners with stars on them displayed with pride in a lot of windows. They indicate that in that house there is loved ones serving and defending our country in the military. Look, there is a convoy of trucks loaded with soldiers, I wonder where they are going? There is a band playing in the park today. On a platform there are people selling war bonds. Every time someone buys a bond they raise this small tethered blimp a little higher. Man, that thing is really up there. We have to go home now for it is getting dark. There may be a blackout to night. They say we are to far away to be bombed but we practice for it anyway. Sure enough, got home just in time for the blackout. Someone has turned a light on and almost immediately there is a knock on the door. It's an Air Raid
Warden. He said to "turn off that light, it's a Blackout. Don't you know there is a war on".

There you have a day in the life of someone that experienced what you just read. It just enveloped you. The war was so in your face that in everything you did it was there. From being a kid to a grownup it was the same. I have a German couple that are my neighbors. They grew up in Germany as children during the war. The stories they tell is truly tragic. As Sherman said "War is hell". I look back and say to myself " what was that all about". There is nothing I can do. The memories are there and they will always be there. Even to this day I will go back to that time on almost a daily basis. Talk to a Vet and he will say almost to a man that nothing that took place in their lives since could compare with the WW2 experience.

There is more. Or am I boring you?

Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2


Joe and Sam

First off I would like to thank Ytareh and Faelas for their kind words. I enjoy all the posts here as well. Faelas, more Please.

Joe and Sam are the main characters in this story of WW2. I am warning you right now that there is no happy ending for these two. This is sort of a spin off from the previous story and you will see how war can change your life style. The pork chops for supper mentioned in the story above brought back the memories of my parents making a big deal of that meal. Can you imagine that today? No. You can go to the local grocery store and buy all you want with out needing any ration stamps to buy meat. Not so doing the war and this is how some people over came the meat ration problem. They raised their own.

Now at the time of this story I was with my grandparents on the lower Eastern Shore of Maryland and they had a two acre lot. Keep in mind that every spare inch of land during the war had a bean planted in it,either for the war effort or your own pantry. Everone was encouraged to plant what they called a Victory Garden. My grandfather's name was Sam.

My grandmother's sister lived in Baltimore with her husband as he worked for Bethlehem Steel at Sparrows Point. They lived in the city with no room to plant a bean anywhere. The husband's name was Joe. Sam and Joe joined forces to beat this meat ration problem. This is how the grand plan worked. Joe put up all the financing for grandpa to raise two pigs on his lot and grandpa was to get one pig as his share for doing the work.

These cute little pigs arrived and were put in the pen and I helped to take care of them. They were the same size but looked different so they got names,Sam and Joe. Pigs are very smart and clean animals if given a chance to stay clean. The only fault they have is that they are also delicous. Well they became my pets and I could play with them with no fear.

The day came when Sam and Joe had to be turned into porkchops. That was a sad day for me and I could not stand to see the whole affair. I watch some of it and it was horrible for a kid to see. Now here is the irony of this thing. Joe in Baltimore got Sam and we got Joe. My Grandpa put various parts of Joe in the smoke house. I would not touch any part of that pig. A long time went by. One night at supper grandpa had a large slice of Joe on his plate and asked me to try a piece. "It is very good",he said. I very timidly took a piece and tried it. Grandpa was right, Joe was very good. Such is war.

More?

Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

Prisoners of War

There was a German POW camp about 25 miles from were we lived. We were coming home from school one day and just before I was to get off the bus there was a sudden commotion. Someone yelled, "Look, German POW's".I was sitting down and by the time I got a chance to look we were passing them. I was not able to see their backs so I only saw the front of the group. They had to have been marked on the back with POW for them to have been recognize as such.

Now I am going to try and describe to you what I saw. First let me share with you some of the comments from the girls onboard. "I heard that some of these German soldiers are cute. Look, some of them are really handsome. This is the first time I have seen any Germans and they look nice". One of the girls on the bus that was passing out these compliments was a sixteen year old by the name of Ann.

There were 15 to 20 men guarded by only a few soldiers. They were cutting grass with sling blades and seemed to be enjoying the attention they were getting. The bus was going slow as I was going to get off and I was able to get a good look. I did not see any in German uniforms. They appeared to have on the early GI fatigue coverall uniform with the hat to match. They were a well fed healthy looking group of men. Even as young as I was at the time I was impressed with the fact they looked like soldiers. They didn't have any horns either.

Apparantly some of the POW's in that camp enjoyed their stay there. A few years after the War was over someone pointed to a fellow and said that guy was a POW here and liked it so much he wanted to come back to America when the War was over. This camp was located on the lower Eastern Shore of Maryland,and this part of the state had excellent farming and I am sure most of these POW's worked there.

That was the only time I saw POW"s. That camp was close to where I lived and I do not recall any alarms over any escape attempts.

Ann

Ann was one of the girls on the bus that day admiring German soldiers. On 13 Feb. 1944 her admiration for anything German ceased. It was on that day over the skies of Germany that her uncle was killed by German flak while on a bombing run. He was a waist gunner on a B-17. But this is another story and it is a good one. I am probably boring you so, bye.

More? Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

Messerschmitts

I was in Baltimore at this time and going to school there. This story took place probably just before I went to live with my Grandparents. During this time period little kids could walk the streets in safety without adult supervision.

My little friend and I were either coming home from school or we were just roaming the streets looking for something to get into. We were six or seven years old. Now remember these ages. I want to try and show you how aware of War we were even at that early age.

We spotted a black car that caught our attention. It was a coupe with the rumble seat in the back. They were sharp little cars. This car was parked on the side of the street with the windows rolled down. Back in those days it was popular for some to decorate their cars with Fox tails on radio antenna, little devil heads on fenders that would light up at night and other cool stuff. This was such a car.

We could not spot the owner so we just hopped up on the running boards to see what was in side. More cool stuff. There was a pair of dice and little sculls with glass eyes and too much stuff to mentioned here just hanging all over the place. Now what really caught our attention was these two little German fighter planes. They were maybe three or four inches long, made of Balsa,and the detail was perfect. They were suspended from the rear view mirror with sewing thread.

"They are Messerschmitt 109's" my friend said. Now I knew only of German planes. I knew nothing of Messerschmitt German planes. He looks at them for a few moments and then he launches into this tirade. "You know,he says, these are enemy planes and they should not be here. These planes are killing our soldiers overseas". His blood is up now and he couldn't stand those planes hanging there any longer. He was braver than me.

Before you can say Messerschmitt, he peels off and goes after those planes, nailing both in one swoop. Down from the mirror they come. Without any discussion at all, we found it prudent at that time to take our kills and hoof it out of there. Being I was just the wingman and didn't pull the trigger I got the plane with the broken wing.

Now wait a minute before you pass any moral judgment on this. Looking back I can see no unpatriotic act on the part of the guy who owned the car. I believe he put those German planes up because they just looked good hanging from his mirrors.

By the same token my little friend did not act out of hooliganism by ripping those planes from the mirror. Even at that young age we knew something terrible was going on in the world. No one had to really tell us because you could see it on the faces of anxious mothers or neigbours fretting over War news. He acted out of patriotism burning in a young heart. He saw two enemy planes and he was going to take them out. I believe it was as simple as that. That is the way it was back then.

Am I boring you? More?

Sam

Sambt
10-15-2005, 10:47 PM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
I will elaborate on the wild naval shell,and how it wound up in my backyard. At the time I was living with my grandparents on the lower Eastern Shore of Maryland. My parents were living in Baltimore as my father was working at Sparrows Point Shipyard building Liberty Ships. Our home was on the lower end of Deal Island {Wenona}. West of where we lived out in the Chesapeake Bay was a Gunnery range use by the Patuxent Naval Air Station. I would climb up on an outbuilding to watch the shells explode in the marsh. The range was only about eight to ten miles away and most of the time you could see the salvos as they hit.
This shelling went on almost every day. At night flares lite up the sky as the explosions shook the ground. I often wondered at that time how you could feel the ground shake across all that water. Our school had huge windows and on occasions those windows would shake and rattle to the point you thought they would brake. One day I saw a teacher duck as she thouht the windows were coming out for sure. My grandmother caught a glass that was shook off a shelf. No one complained about the "bombing" as the locals called it. We were all at war. As to the wild shell no one was injured and as far as I know it was the only one that got loose. The navy investigated of course, picked up some shrapnall and that was it. Exciting times for a little kid.
More? Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

I am going to try an give you an idea of how the dramatic events of WW2 impacted your life to the point where that period in history for you was the most important part of your life. Ask a military Vet or anyone who remembers that time and most will say the same thing.

A Normal Day

You get up in the morning ready for school. On the breakfast table in front of you sits a box of cereal. Instead of Scooby Doo or Sponge Bob you see a cutout of a P-38 or a tank. You couldn't wait for that box to get empty to cut those things out so you can play war.

You get to school and give the teacher cans that your mother has wash and crushed for you to give for the war effort. You may be asked if you want to purchase any war stamps today. Most kids had a stamp book and if you had a dime you bought a stamp and put in that book. There may be an air raid drill today complete with loud bells and nervous teachers.

For supper tonight we are having porkchops. It's been a long time. No meat ration stamps, no meat. Soldiers need more meat to fight. Everyone knows that and no one really complains. Saw a very long train today. No shiny new cars. Loaded with planes , tanks and artillery pieces, really neat stuff. Also saw a formation of planes today. To high to tell what they were. They always seem to fly so high you can't be sure what type of planes they are.

The Park

My mother has enough ration stamps and is going to buy me new shoes today. She tells me to be carefull with them because they have to last me for she has others to buy for as well and it may be a while before there is enough stamps to buy more. We are going to walk to the park after buying the shoes. Gas is rationed too,and in short supply. You walk instead of ride. Walking by the houses, you see little banners with stars on them displayed with pride in a lot of windows. They indicate that in that house there is loved ones serving and defending our country in the military. Look, there is a convoy of trucks loaded with soldiers, I wonder where they are going? There is a band playing in the park today. On a platform there are people selling war bonds. Every time someone buys a bond they raise this small tethered blimp a little higher. Man, that thing is really up there. We have to go home now for it is getting dark. There may be a blackout to night. They say we are to far away to be bombed but we practice for it anyway. Sure enough, got home just in time for the blackout. Someone has turned a light on and almost immediately there is a knock on the door. It's an Air Raid
Warden. He said to "turn off that light, it's a Blackout. Don't you know there is a war on".

There you have a day in the life of someone that experienced what you just read. It just enveloped you. The war was so in your face that in everything you did it was there. From being a kid to a grownup it was the same. I have a German couple that are my neighbors. They grew up in Germany as children during the war. The stories they tell is truly tragic. As Sherman said "War is hell". I look back and say to myself " what was that all about". There is nothing I can do. The memories are there and they will always be there. Even to this day I will go back to that time on almost a daily basis. Talk to a Vet and he will say almost to a man that nothing that took place in their lives since could compare with the WW2 experience.

There is more. Or am I boring you?

Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2


Joe and Sam

First off I would like to thank Ytareh and Faelas for their kind words. I enjoy all the posts here as well. Faelas, more Please.

Joe and Sam are the main characters in this story of WW2. I am warning you right now that there is no happy ending for these two. This is sort of a spin off from the previous story and you will see how war can change your life style. The pork chops for supper mentioned in the story above brought back the memories of my parents making a big deal of that meal. Can you imagine that today? No. You can go to the local grocery store and buy all you want with out needing any ration stamps to buy meat. Not so doing the war and this is how some people over came the meat ration problem. They raised their own.

Now at the time of this story I was with my grandparents on the lower Eastern Shore of Maryland and they had a two acre lot. Keep in mind that every spare inch of land during the war had a bean planted in it,either for the war effort or your own pantry. Everone was encouraged to plant what they called a Victory Garden. My grandfather's name was Sam.

My grandmother's sister lived in Baltimore with her husband as he worked for Bethlehem Steel at Sparrows Point. They lived in the city with no room to plant a bean anywhere. The husband's name was Joe. Sam and Joe joined forces to beat this meat ration problem. This is how the grand plan worked. Joe put up all the financing for grandpa to raise two pigs on his lot and grandpa was to get one pig as his share for doing the work.

These cute little pigs arrived and were put in the pen and I helped to take care of them. They were the same size but looked different so they got names,Sam and Joe. Pigs are very smart and clean animals if given a chance to stay clean. The only fault they have is that they are also delicous. Well they became my pets and I could play with them with no fear.

The day came when Sam and Joe had to be turned into porkchops. That was a sad day for me and I could not stand to see the whole affair. I watch some of it and it was horrible for a kid to see. Now here is the irony of this thing. Joe in Baltimore got Sam and we got Joe. My Grandpa put various parts of Joe in the smoke house. I would not touch any part of that pig. A long time went by. One night at supper grandpa had a large slice of Joe on his plate and asked me to try a piece. "It is very good",he said. I very timidly took a piece and tried it. Grandpa was right, Joe was very good. Such is war.

More?

Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

Prisoners of War

There was a German POW camp about 25 miles from were we lived. We were coming home from school one day and just before I was to get off the bus there was a sudden commotion. Someone yelled, "Look, German POW's".I was sitting down and by the time I got a chance to look we were passing them. I was not able to see their backs so I only saw the front of the group. They had to have been marked on the back with POW for them to have been recognize as such.

Now I am going to try and describe to you what I saw. First let me share with you some of the comments from the girls onboard. "I heard that some of these German soldiers are cute. Look, some of them are really handsome. This is the first time I have seen any Germans and they look nice". One of the girls on the bus that was passing out these compliments was a sixteen year old by the name of Ann.

There were 15 to 20 men guarded by only a few soldiers. They were cutting grass with sling blades and seemed to be enjoying the attention they were getting. The bus was going slow as I was going to get off and I was able to get a good look. I did not see any in German uniforms. They appeared to have on the early GI fatigue coverall uniform with the hat to match. They were a well fed healthy looking group of men. Even as young as I was at the time I was impressed with the fact they looked like soldiers. They didn't have any horns either.

Apparantly some of the POW's in that camp enjoyed their stay there. A few years after the War was over someone pointed to a fellow and said that guy was a POW here and liked it so much he wanted to come back to America when the War was over. This camp was located on the lower Eastern Shore of Maryland,and this part of the state had excellent farming and I am sure most of these POW's worked there.

That was the only time I saw POW"s. That camp was close to where I lived and I do not recall any alarms over any escape attempts.

Ann

Ann was one of the girls on the bus that day admiring German soldiers. On 13 Feb. 1944 her admiration for anything German ceased. It was on that day over the skies of Germany that her uncle was killed by German flak while on a bombing run. He was a waist gunner on a B-17. But this is another story and it is a good one. I am probably boring you so, bye.

More? Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

Messerschmitts

I was in Baltimore at this time and going to school there. This story took place probably just before I went to live with my Grandparents. During this time period little kids could walk the streets in safety without adult supervision.

My little friend and I were either coming home from school or we were just roaming the streets looking for something to get into. We were six or seven years old. Now remember these ages. I want to try and show you how aware of War we were even at that early age.

We spotted a black car that caught our attention. It was a coupe with the rumble seat in the back. They were sharp little cars. This car was parked on the side of the street with the windows rolled down. Back in those days it was popular for some to decorate their cars with Fox tails on radio antenna, little devil heads on fenders that would light up at night and other cool stuff. This was such a car.

We could not spot the owner so we just hopped up on the running boards to see what was in side. More cool stuff. There was a pair of dice and little sculls with glass eyes and too much stuff to mentioned here just hanging all over the place. Now what really caught our attention was these two little German fighter planes. They were maybe three or four inches long, made of Balsa,and the detail was perfect. They were suspended from the rear view mirror with sewing thread.

"They are Messerschmitt 109's" my friend said. Now I knew only of German planes. I knew nothing of Messerschmitt German planes. He looks at them for a few moments and then he launches into this tirade. "You know,he says, these are enemy planes and they should not be here. These planes are killing our soldiers overseas". His blood is up now and he couldn't stand those planes hanging there any longer. He was braver than me.

Before you can say Messerschmitt, he peels off and goes after those planes, nailing both in one swoop. Down from the mirror they come. Without any discussion at all, we found it prudent at that time to take our kills and hoof it out of there. Being I was just the wingman and didn't pull the trigger I got the plane with the broken wing.

Now wait a minute before you pass any moral judgment on this. Looking back I can see no unpatriotic act on the part of the guy who owned the car. I believe he put those German planes up because they just looked good hanging from his mirrors.

By the same token my little friend did not act out of hooliganism by ripping those planes from the mirror. Even at that young age we knew something terrible was going on in the world. No one had to really tell us because you could see it on the faces of anxious mothers or neigbours fretting over War news. He acted out of patriotism burning in a young heart. He saw two enemy planes and he was going to take them out. I believe it was as simple as that. That is the way it was back then.

Am I boring you? More?

Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

Blackouts

To be a witness to something like a blackout during war time was a scary situation. When you heard the air raid sirens go off you really did not know whether it was for real or just a drill. Those air raid sirens were extremly loud and with that awful forboding sound it would send those chills up your spine.

I want to try and give you a feel for how the general public viewed these drills and their attitude in complying with them during war time. I am at the time of this story living in Baltimore and it is early war.

After Pearl Harbor there was a flurry of activity trying to gear up for the preparation for war. In my parents Home there was almost always relatives or friends staying with us to work in various war jobs available in Baltimore at that time. Keep in mind that we have been in a deep Depression and these war jobs are welcomed. Along with this war industry buildup the Cities were preparing to defend themselves. Blackouts were a part of that defense system.

I am now looking back on this. Pearl Harbor of course got us into the war. I suspect though that it was the raid on Japan by Jimmy Doolittle's B-25 Bombers, in April of '42, that really got the attention of the American public. Not only did it scare the Japanese it scared us as well. If we could do it unto them someone could also do it unto us. The public took this thing seriously.

I witness these drills as a kid living in the city at the time. Picture this. When the Sirens would go off at night to indicate a drill it would appear that one hand was on a light switch to shut lights off throughout the entire city. Any cars with head lights on at the time would do the same thing. It was a prevailing attitude of cooperation. One mind, one heart, one fist, type of thing.

You are looking at all that blackness and almost just as suddenly the sky is shattered with the beams of countless search lights probing the sky, frantically looking for enemy aircraft. A weird sight.

I mentioned the Doolittle Raid because of the frequency of the drills early on in the war as opposed to later with the lessening of the threat of attack. Still, there was always the anxiaty of the possibility.

Usually during a drill, in our house all the lights would be shut off except perhaps in the kitchen. There would be what was called back then, blackout curtains on all the windows. They were very dark pull blinds that let almost no light through. We lived in a row house at the time and the kitchens faced towards the alleys. As most families would do what we were doing with leaving lights on in the kitchen, the Air Raid Wardens would of course walk the alleys checking for lights.

One night we had a Warden knock on the back door to informed us that he could see a crack of light coming out of a window. He could see that the blinds were down and he suggested a fix and my mother immediately complied. His job was not to see any light, our's was try not to show any. No one that I knew of ever complained about this system. Everyone was at war. It was not just our Armed Forces as it was called then, but all members of a household as well.

Well there you have it. When the sirens would wail the all clear, things would be back to normal to await another that was sure to come. These drills did not seem to disrupt routines that much as people got use to them. They were just another thing to remind us that we were at war.

Am I boring you?

Sam

Professor_06
10-15-2005, 11:48 PM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by taldrg:
Well lets start with my age. I am in my eighty first(81)year. Been flying in Warbirds sim since 97 and now am in PF. What got me in PF is the name "Pacific Fighters" which I was. Now for the rest of the story.
Hung around the local airport(grass strip)starting at age 6. Doing odd jobs and changin' oil and cuttin' grass and taking lessons for my pay.Knew how to fly by age 13.
WW II started and I am just 16. Tryed to go to Canada and get in the RCAF but that's another story.
Did get in the AAF and went to Chanute AAB in Illinois but because of an accident at age 5 which was a skull fracture(they found it out)I was let out and went home.
I was really mad so I joined the U.S. Marines. Applyed for the Air Wing and got it but no flying, just regular mud Marine stuff.
Now it gets better. On Guadalcanal helping the mechanics on the flight line I would run up the engines for them and taxi and stuff like that. I am now 17 1/2 old now. Well when we went to Bougainville I was still on the flight line and one day when I was doing a taxi test(I later blamed it on the hot sun)I just run the SBD up, checked the mags, and took the d---ed thing off.
When I landed and taxied to the line I thought of all the years I would spend in the brig. The sgt. hopped on the wing and said,"is everything OK?" I just said yep and didn't hear any more about it.
After that word got around that I could fly and it got gooder and gooder. Like F6F-TBF-SBD-F4U.
Met Pappy Boyington on Bouganville. Made just one combat patrol flight and they made me a SGT.
There were(I think)85 non-com pilots in the Marine Corp.
There's more but, that was a looonnnggg time ago.
taldrg
First Marine Air Wing
Marine Air Group 25
WW II </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Great story. Didnt your outfit go to the Philipines? Your about my fathers age. He recently died. He was in the Navy stationed in San Diego but all his friends were Navy and Marine buddies, they would come by to tell their stories of Iwo Jima, Tarawa, Okinawa, one guy was in the 10th mountain in Europe. My Step-dad was on an oiler in the Marshalls and then on the CV Intrepid. I would like to hear more of your story, your flying and meeting Pappy. You guys are all heroes in my book. Salute.

Tvrdi
10-16-2005, 03:30 AM
WW2 veterans? http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_eek.gif my father was born in 1942. and hes 63 yrs old....so you can imagine how old would be an ww2 vet now....

dieg777
10-16-2005, 06:23 AM
My parents were children during the war. Everyone of their generation, and especially their parents ( my grandparents ) generation has stories of the war, the rationing, blackouts, seeing the aircraft taking off and flying around the area, we had an Operational Training Unit in the town training pilots to fly spitfires, the blitz on the clyde etc

My father was drafted to do his national service when he was 19 and served with the Gordon Highlanders in the Malayan Jungles against insurgents, he was a dog handler in the army and has some good stories of his time leading patrols into the jungle. The dog would go ahead of the patrol and warn them if anyone was waiting in ambush. He says that he never lost anyone when he was leading the patrol.

DIRTY-MAC
10-16-2005, 09:53 AM
My Grandfather was in the swedish army during WWII, He died before I was born.
What I know is that they were stationed near the Norwegian border, and that they sometimes went on secret operations deep in on German occupied-Norwegian ground. I have no idea what they did.
On one occasion my grandfather stole a German military map in a bunker. wich showed highly detailed parts of norway and Sweden.My parents now have the map. its wery cool to look at, with markings made by the germans both on the Norwegian AND on the Swedish side. though i have no idea what they mean. I could maybe post it, if someone is interested?

I also newly was told by a relative what my grandfathers brother did during WWII, Its some really interesting and heavy stuff. I almost fell off my chair when I heard it. unfortunately it is apparently still such serius issue in the Swedish army, that it is classified as highly top secret material. It will probably (I hope) come out in some years, and stir up some things or two about WWII.
Man I wish I could tell you,
(I hope I havent done anything wrong by typing this)
I couldnt help myself

Airmail109
10-16-2005, 01:52 PM
Two of my dads uncles were Snipers on the Somme...both survived http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_eek.gif.....the sotires ive heard about one of em Gus are funny....had a lee-enfield after the war and would stop his car and shoot rabbits if he saw them http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/59.gif...

My Grandad was a motor bike despatch rider in ww2....unlike others he had a wail of a time...wasnt often on the frontlines...but got to travel the world and meet italian birds. His column was once shot up by a load of 109s in north africa though....until some Spits came along...he dived behind some barrels and then watched them dogfight overhead! http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/16x16_smiley-surprised.gif

EPP_Gibbs
10-16-2005, 07:17 PM
I met a man called Don King in Brittany, France, where he now lives. He was a gunner on a Royal Navy cruiser that escorted convoys to Russia in WW2. He said the 4 hour shifts were so cold but come the end, rather than go below they'd try and get some sleep on deck, sheltering in some niche in the superstructure where it might be a little bit warmer. The reason? They were afraid of being torpedoed and trapped below, so much so they'd rather stay cold than go below.

Eventually they got another posting, to the Mediterranean. He was overjoyed. At least it would be warmer! They were assigned to escort a convoy from Scotland to Malta, codenamed 'Operation Pedestal'. Anyone who knows RN WW2 history will know the significance of that.

His ship was the HMS Nigeria and it was torpedoed quite early on in the mission. He said the torpedo hit directly below his gun position. When he looked over the side he thought the galley had been hit because there were strings of sausages trailing in the water where they'd got hooked up on the twisted metal of the damaged hull. He then realised that they were the entrails of his shipmates. The ship survived the attack and made it to Gibraltar.

After the war he became a professional rock drummer until his retirement. He much prefers to talk of his drumming days than about the war.

A friend of my father's was a fighter for the Jugoslav Chetniks in WW2. His speciality was as a sniper and he told of how he was able to single handed hold up and disrupt a column of Germans in the mountains for quite some time with a Mauser sniper's rifle he'd previously taken from an inoperative German soldier.

He and his horse knew the terrain, they didn't. Pure guerilla warfare. He'd set up overlooking the road, have a smoke and a drink, and wait for the column to turn up. One shot, one kill, and he'd quietly move on during the chaos. He then set up further down the road, and repeat the procedure. Held them up for ages, and they never got him.

Sambt
10-23-2005, 04:39 PM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
I will elaborate on the wild naval shell,and how it wound up in my backyard. At the time I was living with my grandparents on the lower Eastern Shore of Maryland. My parents were living in Baltimore as my father was working at Sparrows Point Shipyard building Liberty Ships. Our home was on the lower end of Deal Island {Wenona}. West of where we lived out in the Chesapeake Bay was a Gunnery range use by the Patuxent Naval Air Station. I would climb up on an outbuilding to watch the shells explode in the marsh. The range was only about eight to ten miles away and most of the time you could see the salvos as they hit.
This shelling went on almost every day. At night flares lite up the sky as the explosions shook the ground. I often wondered at that time how you could feel the ground shake across all that water. Our school had huge windows and on occasions those windows would shake and rattle to the point you thought they would brake. One day I saw a teacher duck as she thouht the windows were coming out for sure. My grandmother caught a glass that was shook off a shelf. No one complained about the "bombing" as the locals called it. We were all at war. As to the wild shell no one was injured and as far as I know it was the only one that got loose. The navy investigated of course, picked up some shrapnall and that was it. Exciting times for a little kid.
More? Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

I am going to try an give you an idea of how the dramatic events of WW2 impacted your life to the point where that period in history for you was the most important part of your life. Ask a military Vet or anyone who remembers that time and most will say the same thing.

A Normal Day

You get up in the morning ready for school. On the breakfast table in front of you sits a box of cereal. Instead of Scooby Doo or Sponge Bob you see a cutout of a P-38 or a tank. You couldn't wait for that box to get empty to cut those things out so you can play war.

You get to school and give the teacher cans that your mother has wash and crushed for you to give for the war effort. You may be asked if you want to purchase any war stamps today. Most kids had a stamp book and if you had a dime you bought a stamp and put in that book. There may be an air raid drill today complete with loud bells and nervous teachers.

For supper tonight we are having porkchops. It's been a long time. No meat ration stamps, no meat. Soldiers need more meat to fight. Everyone knows that and no one really complains. Saw a very long train today. No shiny new cars. Loaded with planes , tanks and artillery pieces, really neat stuff. Also saw a formation of planes today. To high to tell what they were. They always seem to fly so high you can't be sure what type of planes they are.

The Park

My mother has enough ration stamps and is going to buy me new shoes today. She tells me to be carefull with them because they have to last me for she has others to buy for as well and it may be a while before there is enough stamps to buy more. We are going to walk to the park after buying the shoes. Gas is rationed too,and in short supply. You walk instead of ride. Walking by the houses, you see little banners with stars on them displayed with pride in a lot of windows. They indicate that in that house there is loved ones serving and defending our country in the military. Look, there is a convoy of trucks loaded with soldiers, I wonder where they are going? There is a band playing in the park today. On a platform there are people selling war bonds. Every time someone buys a bond they raise this small tethered blimp a little higher. Man, that thing is really up there. We have to go home now for it is getting dark. There may be a blackout to night. They say we are to far away to be bombed but we practice for it anyway. Sure enough, got home just in time for the blackout. Someone has turned a light on and almost immediately there is a knock on the door. It's an Air Raid
Warden. He said to "turn off that light, it's a Blackout. Don't you know there is a war on".

There you have a day in the life of someone that experienced what you just read. It just enveloped you. The war was so in your face that in everything you did it was there. From being a kid to a grownup it was the same. I have a German couple that are my neighbors. They grew up in Germany as children during the war. The stories they tell is truly tragic. As Sherman said "War is hell". I look back and say to myself " what was that all about". There is nothing I can do. The memories are there and they will always be there. Even to this day I will go back to that time on almost a daily basis. Talk to a Vet and he will say almost to a man that nothing that took place in their lives since could compare with the WW2 experience.

There is more. Or am I boring you?

Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2


Joe and Sam

First off I would like to thank Ytareh and Faelas for their kind words. I enjoy all the posts here as well. Faelas, more Please.

Joe and Sam are the main characters in this story of WW2. I am warning you right now that there is no happy ending for these two. This is sort of a spin off from the previous story and you will see how war can change your life style. The pork chops for supper mentioned in the story above brought back the memories of my parents making a big deal of that meal. Can you imagine that today? No. You can go to the local grocery store and buy all you want with out needing any ration stamps to buy meat. Not so doing the war and this is how some people over came the meat ration problem. They raised their own.

Now at the time of this story I was with my grandparents on the lower Eastern Shore of Maryland and they had a two acre lot. Keep in mind that every spare inch of land during the war had a bean planted in it,either for the war effort or your own pantry. Everone was encouraged to plant what they called a Victory Garden. My grandfather's name was Sam.

My grandmother's sister lived in Baltimore with her husband as he worked for Bethlehem Steel at Sparrows Point. They lived in the city with no room to plant a bean anywhere. The husband's name was Joe. Sam and Joe joined forces to beat this meat ration problem. This is how the grand plan worked. Joe put up all the financing for grandpa to raise two pigs on his lot and grandpa was to get one pig as his share for doing the work.

These cute little pigs arrived and were put in the pen and I helped to take care of them. They were the same size but looked different so they got names,Sam and Joe. Pigs are very smart and clean animals if given a chance to stay clean. The only fault they have is that they are also delicous. Well they became my pets and I could play with them with no fear.

The day came when Sam and Joe had to be turned into porkchops. That was a sad day for me and I could not stand to see the whole affair. I watch some of it and it was horrible for a kid to see. Now here is the irony of this thing. Joe in Baltimore got Sam and we got Joe. My Grandpa put various parts of Joe in the smoke house. I would not touch any part of that pig. A long time went by. One night at supper grandpa had a large slice of Joe on his plate and asked me to try a piece. "It is very good",he said. I very timidly took a piece and tried it. Grandpa was right, Joe was very good. Such is war.

More?

Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

Prisoners of War

There was a German POW camp about 25 miles from were we lived. We were coming home from school one day and just before I was to get off the bus there was a sudden commotion. Someone yelled, "Look, German POW's".I was sitting down and by the time I got a chance to look we were passing them. I was not able to see their backs so I only saw the front of the group. They had to have been marked on the back with POW for them to have been recognize as such.

Now I am going to try and describe to you what I saw. First let me share with you some of the comments from the girls onboard. "I heard that some of these German soldiers are cute. Look, some of them are really handsome. This is the first time I have seen any Germans and they look nice". One of the girls on the bus that was passing out these compliments was a sixteen year old by the name of Ann.

There were 15 to 20 men guarded by only a few soldiers. They were cutting grass with sling blades and seemed to be enjoying the attention they were getting. The bus was going slow as I was going to get off and I was able to get a good look. I did not see any in German uniforms. They appeared to have on the early GI fatigue coverall uniform with the hat to match. They were a well fed healthy looking group of men. Even as young as I was at the time I was impressed with the fact they looked like soldiers. They didn't have any horns either.

Apparantly some of the POW's in that camp enjoyed their stay there. A few years after the War was over someone pointed to a fellow and said that guy was a POW here and liked it so much he wanted to come back to America when the War was over. This camp was located on the lower Eastern Shore of Maryland,and this part of the state had excellent farming and I am sure most of these POW's worked there.

That was the only time I saw POW"s. That camp was close to where I lived and I do not recall any alarms over any escape attempts.

Ann

Ann was one of the girls on the bus that day admiring German soldiers. On 13 Feb. 1944 her admiration for anything German ceased. It was on that day over the skies of Germany that her uncle was killed by German flak while on a bombing run. He was a waist gunner on a B-17. But this is another story and it is a good one. I am probably boring you so, bye.

More? Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

Messerschmitts

I was in Baltimore at this time and going to school there. This story took place probably just before I went to live with my Grandparents. During this time period little kids could walk the streets in safety without adult supervision.

My little friend and I were either coming home from school or we were just roaming the streets looking for something to get into. We were six or seven years old. Now remember these ages. I want to try and show you how aware of War we were even at that early age.

We spotted a black car that caught our attention. It was a coupe with the rumble seat in the back. They were sharp little cars. This car was parked on the side of the street with the windows rolled down. Back in those days it was popular for some to decorate their cars with Fox tails on radio antenna, little devil heads on fenders that would light up at night and other cool stuff. This was such a car.

We could not spot the owner so we just hopped up on the running boards to see what was in side. More cool stuff. There was a pair of dice and little sculls with glass eyes and too much stuff to mentioned here just hanging all over the place. Now what really caught our attention was these two little German fighter planes. They were maybe three or four inches long, made of Balsa,and the detail was perfect. They were suspended from the rear view mirror with sewing thread.

"They are Messerschmitt 109's" my friend said. Now I knew only of German planes. I knew nothing of Messerschmitt German planes. He looks at them for a few moments and then he launches into this tirade. "You know,he says, these are enemy planes and they should not be here. These planes are killing our soldiers overseas". His blood is up now and he couldn't stand those planes hanging there any longer. He was braver than me.

Before you can say Messerschmitt, he peels off and goes after those planes, nailing both in one swoop. Down from the mirror they come. Without any discussion at all, we found it prudent at that time to take our kills and hoof it out of there. Being I was just the wingman and didn't pull the trigger I got the plane with the broken wing.

Now wait a minute before you pass any moral judgment on this. Looking back I can see no unpatriotic act on the part of the guy who owned the car. I believe he put those German planes up because they just looked good hanging from his mirrors.

By the same token my little friend did not act out of hooliganism by ripping those planes from the mirror. Even at that young age we knew something terrible was going on in the world. No one had to really tell us because you could see it on the faces of anxious mothers or neigbours fretting over War news. He acted out of patriotism burning in a young heart. He saw two enemy planes and he was going to take them out. I believe it was as simple as that. That is the way it was back then.

Am I boring you? More?

Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

Blackouts

To be a witness to something like a blackout during war time was a scary situation. When you heard the air raid sirens go off you really did not know whether it was for real or just a drill. Those air raid sirens were extremly loud and with that awful forboding sound it would send those chills up your spine.

I want to try and give you a feel for how the general public viewed these drills and their attitude in complying with them during war time. I am at the time of this story living in Baltimore and it is early war.

After Pearl Harbor there was a flurry of activity trying to gear up for the preparation for war. In my parents Home there was almost always relatives or friends staying with us to work in various war jobs available in Baltimore at that time. Keep in mind that we have been in a deep Depression and these war jobs are welcomed. Along with this war industry buildup the Cities were preparing to defend themselves. Blackouts were a part of that defense system.

I am now looking back on this. Pearl Harbor of course got us into the war. I suspect though that it was the raid on Japan by Jimmy Doolittle's B-25 Bombers, in April of '42, that really got the attention of the American public. Not only did it scare the Japanese it scared us as well. If we could do it unto them someone could also do it unto us. The public took this thing seriously.

I witness these drills as a kid living in the city at the time. Picture this. When the Sirens would go off at night to indicate a drill it would appear that one hand was on a light switch to shut lights off throughout the entire city. Any cars with head lights on at the time would do the same thing. It was a prevailing attitude of cooperation. One mind, one heart, one fist, type of thing.

You are looking at all that blackness and almost just as suddenly the sky is shattered with the beams of countless search lights probing the sky, frantically looking for enemy aircraft. A weird sight.

I mentioned the Doolittle Raid because of the frequency of the drills early on in the war as opposed to later with the lessening of the threat of attack. Still, there was always the anxiaty of the possibility.

Usually during a drill, in our house all the lights would be shut off except perhaps in the kitchen. There would be what was called back then, blackout curtains on all the windows. They were very dark pull blinds that let almost no light through. We lived in a row house at the time and the kitchens faced towards the alleys. As most families would do what we were doing with leaving lights on in the kitchen, the Air Raid Wardens would of course walk the alleys checking for lights.

One night we had a Warden knock on the back door to informed us that he could see a crack of light coming out of a window. He could see that the blinds were down and he suggested a fix and my mother immediately complied. His job was not to see any light, our's was try not to show any. No one that I knew of ever complained about this system. Everyone was at war. It was not just our Armed Forces as it was called then, but all members of a household as well.

Well there you have it. When the sirens would wail the all clear, things would be back to normal to await another that was sure to come. These drills did not seem to disrupt routines that much as people got use to them. They were just another thing to remind us that we were at war.

Am I boring you?

Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

Home-Coming

The reality and tragedy of war becomes really evident when you see the flag draped coffin bearing the remains of a returning soldier. This story takes place approximately one year after the war was over. I witnessed the return of one of two soldiers that was KIA from my small community.

John

When the War was over families of servicemen were given an option to bring the remains of loved ones that died overseas home for burial. John's family had him brought home to be buried in the only church cemetery in our small community of maybe 200 families. So you see everyone knew him. We all knew the day when John was coming home.

KIA

John was an infantryman in Italy. As the story went at the time, John was wounded in combat and was sent to a field hospital for recovery. While there in the hospital it came under attack. The German Military was not known to deliberately engage in bombing or shelling hospitals and so we can assume it was an error of war. Field hospitals and dressing stations were at times close to the front lines and mistakes occured on both sides. John was walking wounded and was hit while running for cover. He was killed outright and did not die later of wounds.

Grave Site

I will describe the best that memory will allow, the home coming of John. There was not a parade. No riderless horse or missing man formation for John's arrival home. Instead the local funeral director accompanied by a VFW color guard escourted him to his final resting place. A very small group of family, friends and curious little boys greeted him as he arrived. Two of his boy-hood friends in their war time uniforms were there as well.

Taps were played as they lowered him down and his two friends in uniform saluted. Everyone then went on their way. Over 80,000 MIA's will probably never have a home-coming like John. I went back to that little churchyard a few years ago to visit my Grandma's grave. I walked over to pay John a visit. I thanked him and saluted as I did not know how to salute back then. His unit and time of death are on his military headstone. I forgot what they were. The only thing I remember is that he was only 20 years old.

More? Sam

Bearcat99
10-23-2005, 06:02 PM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by taldrg:
Well lets start with my age. I am in my eighty first(81)year. Been flying in Warbirds sim since 97 and now am in PF. What got me in PF is the name "Pacific Fighters" which I was. Now for the rest of the story.
Hung around the local airport(grass strip)starting at age 6. Doing odd jobs and changin' oil and cuttin' grass and taking lessons for my pay.Knew how to fly by age 13.
WW II started and I am just 16. Tryed to go to Canada and get in the RCAF but that's another story.
Did get in the AAF and went to Chanute AAB in Illinois but because of an accident at age 5 which was a skull fracture(they found it out)I was let out and went home.
I was really mad so I joined the U.S. Marines. Applyed for the Air Wing and got it but no flying, just regular mud Marine stuff.
Now it gets better. On Guadalcanal helping the mechanics on the flight line I would run up the engines for them and taxi and stuff like that. I am now 17 1/2 old now. Well when we went to Bougainville I was still on the flight line and one day when I was doing a taxi test(I later blamed it on the hot sun)I just run the SBD up, checked the mags, and took the d---ed thing off.
When I landed and taxied to the line I thought of all the years I would spend in the brig. The sgt. hopped on the wing and said,"is everything OK?" I just said yep and didn't hear any more about it.
After that word got around that I could fly and it got gooder and gooder. Like F6F-TBF-SBD-F4U.
Met Pappy Boyington on Bouganville. Made just one combat patrol flight and they made me a SGT.
There were(I think)85 non-com pilots in the Marine Corp.
There's more but, that was a looonnnggg time ago.
taldrg
First Marine Air Wing
Marine Air Group 25
WW II </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

I had you and Monroe in mind when I made this post..I am so glad that you posted in it. There was a guy named Popeye in CFS... he was a Ww2 vet too I think..... and there was another WW2 Pacific vet that used to post here.. I forgot his name I havent seen him in a while. Keep em coming.... there arent many WW2 veterans left.. and for me at least to have one of my heroes (All WW2 vets are my heroes....) sharing his stories... consider me a kid at your feet grampa.. listening to your old war stories.....

What do you think about the FMs in this sim? I know it can only come but so close.. after all as good as it is it is still just a PC simulation... but what do you thij about these FMs as compared to others that you have experienced and your memories of actual flight in real planes? Take all the time ypou need to answer this.... consider this as your own personal thread.... http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/11.gif

darkhorizon11
10-23-2005, 09:23 PM
Thats awesome. My grandfather was on Bougainville during the war. He was in the Americal division...

AI-1
10-24-2005, 05:53 PM
My father flew Lancasters and Welligntons in Bomber Command, also had a stint in Coastal Command on Sunderlands. My memory of stories he told me are sparse to say the least but I do remember a poingnant one which affected me for a while; I remember his telling of a sortie in a sunderland where they attacked a surfaced sub (I believe they thought it was damaged or something, but am not certain), they carried out several strafing runs, where after one run he heard the tail gunner (over comms) cryout in horror and profanity, after calling him several times on comms for a status check the gunner apologised for not responding to the calls, explaining he was shocked at witnessing his guns cutting a crewman in half after his mid-section 'disintegrated', I know my father was still affected by the description of the incident because he looked and sounded distant, he also stopped talking at this point and went 'red eyed'. I left him alone after some time of silence between us to find something else to amuse me ( http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/51.gif though I was young, somewhere between 8-12).

The story got to me later killing the 'fun' of war as whenever I would watch a war film/ program I would see an image I had created of his story, and I became 'serious' when watching/ reading/ talking about war. To this day I wonder if that was in part his intention, I do know though that when I saw my father later the same day he was exhausted. http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_frown.gif, Always felt sad for him after that, and for the crewman of both the plane and the sub. http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_frown.gif

Another I remember of a lighter nature was where he told me the squadron he was with got together some old crates (meaning aircraft, damaged or cannibalised), put their tails across each other and torched them, they then proceeded to have a huge party to celebrate the news of cessation of hostilities in europe. http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/16x16_smiley-very-happy.gif Back then I thought that one was great, shame about the loss of them from todays perspective though.

His stories must have been influential in other ways though as I spent a good lengh of time (84-2000) in the mob (RAF), though as an engineer, not as a pilot, never did want to be a pilot and do 'real' killing after all that. Don't mind a bit of pixel killing though http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/35.gif http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/16x16_smiley-very-happy.gif

Sambt
11-06-2005, 10:18 AM
Memories of a kid during WW2

For the War effort

My first attempt at saving Western Civilization from the Nazi menace was not successful. I had asked my mother to give me one of the empty vegetable cans left over from a meal without telling her what I was going to do with it. It was going to school with me the next day and given as scrap for the war effort. Most kids would bring something to school, like either tin foil or a squashed can. This stuff was collected by the teachers and deposited in containers for pickup and we were encouraged to continue to do this.

I just brought a can into school to help win the war. I did not know you had to prepare the thing in a certain way. This first can I brought in still had the residue of whatever vegetable was in it. Besides that it had been opened with a can opener that left a jagged edge on the top of the can and that was not an acceptable way to bring cans in.

Now this teacher, bless her heart, graciously took the time to thank me for my patiotism and proceeded to demonstrate to the class the proper way to prepare cans at home. First off you had to wash the thing. Then you were to cut both ends out with a proper can opener so as not to have jagged edges. Besides it was alot easier to crush them with both ends out. I told my mother about all this when I got home and she went out that very day to buy the can opener that would do the job correctly.

More stuff for the War effort

On the street where we lived in Baltimore was a huge pile of scrap off to one side to allow for traffic flow, where people would throw unwanted metal objects to be used as scrap to help build planes and tanks. There was a lot of junk in that pile. I later saw an Army truck drive up with a couple of unfortunate GI's who had to shovel all that stuff into that truck. Now, I cannot recall if another scrap pile was started after this one was taken away.

Rubber for jeeps and planes

There also was a rubber collection pile located in this large garage complex close to where I lived. The War effort needed rubber to roll those planes and trucks and I was going to see what I could do to help. I found this neat tire sitting in the backyard doing no one any good. I decided to send this tire to war. As I recall it was in good shape and could be used as is.

I roll this thing down to the garage with some effort as it is as big as me. I announce to the attendants what my intentions are and I saw their faces light up with smiles. One guy comes over and kneels down and places a hand on my shoulder and says,"Are you sure you want to give this tire so our soldiers can fight and win this War"? "Yes"., I said.

It was almost impossible to buy tires for your car during War time. It was considered unpatriotic to even want to as it took away from the War effort. People were putting their cars up on blocks for the duration of the War to keep from having to buy tires even if they were available. It is a great wonder to me why my old man didn't kick the **** out of me for giving away one of his hoarded tires. You threw tires away back then only when you could throw a cat through the hole. I believe my father was probably proud of me even tho it cost him a tire. I don't remember ever being punished and I recall him telling the tire story with a chuckle.

This is just a little tidbit from the War years. It is strange how one memory will trigger another. While telling this story it brings up something related in away so as to jolt your brain for more. The well has not run dry yet. This thread was idle for awhile. I was doing an upgrade and became a little lazy to post. If there is still an interest in some of these little stories I will continue. The next post will be about women so stay tuned.

So let me know if I am boring you.

Sam

Sambt
11-13-2005, 08:09 AM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
Memories of a kid during WW2

For the War effort

My first attempt at saving Western Civilization from the Nazi menace was not successful. I had asked my mother to give me one of the empty vegetable cans left over from a meal without telling her what I was going to do with it. It was going to school with me the next day and given as scrap for the war effort. Most kids would bring something to school, like either tin foil or a squashed can. This stuff was collected by the teachers and deposited in containers for pickup and we were encouraged to continue to do this.

I just brought a can into school to help win the war. I did not know you had to prepare the thing in a certain way. This first can I brought in still had the residue of whatever vegetable was in it. Besides that it had been opened with a can opener that left a jagged edge on the top of the can and that was not an acceptable way to bring cans in.

Now this teacher, bless her heart, graciously took the time to thank me for my patiotism and proceeded to demonstrate to the class the proper way to prepare cans at home. First off you had to wash the thing. Then you were to cut both ends out with a proper can opener so as not to have jagged edges. Besides it was alot easier to crush them with both ends out. I told my mother about all this when I got home and she went out that very day to buy the can opener that would do the job correctly.

More stuff for the War effort

On the street where we lived in Baltimore was a huge pile of scrap off to one side to allow for traffic flow, where people would throw unwanted metal objects to be used as scrap to help build planes and tanks. There was a lot of junk in that pile. I later saw an Army truck drive up with a couple of unfortunate GI's who had to shovel all that stuff into that truck. Now, I cannot recall if another scrap pile was started after this one was taken away.

Rubber for jeeps and planes

There also was a rubber collection pile located in this large garage complex close to where I lived. The War effort needed rubber to roll those planes and trucks and I was going to see what I could do to help. I found this neat tire sitting in the backyard doing no one any good. I decided to send this tire to war. As I recall it was in good shape and could be used as is.

I roll this thing down to the garage with some effort as it is as big as me. I announce to the attendants what my intentions are and I saw their faces light up with smiles. One guy comes over and kneels down and places a hand on my shoulder and says,"Are you sure you want to give this tire so our soldiers can fight and win this War"? "Yes"., I said.

It was almost impossible to buy tires for your car during War time. It was considered unpatriotic to even want to as it took away from the War effort. People were putting their cars up on blocks for the duration of the War to keep from having to buy tires even if they were available. It is a great wonder to me why my old man didn't kick the **** out of me for giving away one of his hoarded tires. You threw tires away back then only when you could throw a cat through the hole. I believe my father was probably proud of me even tho it cost him a tire. I don't remember ever being punished and I recall him telling the tire story with a chuckle.

This is just a little tidbit from the War years. It is strange how one memory will trigger another. While telling this story it brings up something related in away so as to jolt your brain for more. The well has not run dry yet. This thread was idle for awhile. I was doing an upgrade and became a little lazy to post. If there is still an interest in some of these little stories I will continue. The next post will be about women so stay tuned.

So let me know if I am boring you.

Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

Women during War time

This little story was inspired by the previous one about the giving of my father's tire for the War effort. My old man was telling a GI this act of patriotism on my part while we were on a trip to visit relatives. He had enough stamps to buy gas and he was going to use it. Now this is how women get into this picture.

Lonely hearts

My dad and I were headed for the ferry off Annapolis Maryland. This was before the Chesapeake Bay Bridge was built of course and the ferry connected the Eastern Shore of Maryland with the Western Shore. My father taught me to identify old cars as a sort of game. A '41 Chevy passed us at a high rate of speed with a blond behind the wheel. Now my old man was not going to let a car pass him especially if it was hauling a good looking blond.

He proceeds to play catchup under the pretence of getting a closer look at that '41 Chevy. We make it onto the ferry and go up to the upper deck for refreshments and to enjoy the trip across the Bay. It takes about 30 minutes are so to cross. My old man is still interested in the occupant of that Chevy. I'm thinking his interest in cars is getting out of hand and I am going to tell my mother on him. He bribes me with a hotdog and chocolate milk as it is my favorite and blows the plan to tell up.

He finds out the story on the blond from the GI he is telling about the tire I gave away. So this is how you remember things and one memory leads to another. This lady had no interest in my old man. She wanted to go South.

Lonely Hearts One

Here is the story of the blond in the '41 Chevy as best I can remember it. She was talking to a few people on the ferry along with the GI aswell. She had just gotten word that her husband a Naval officer, and his ship was due into Norfolk Naval Base. His ship was to be there a very short time. She was going to meet him and spend as much time with him as possible. She stated she was willing to pay every speeding ticket she got in order to be with her husband if only for a night.

My father lost interest in the Chevy after hearing this. We made it across the Bay and jumped into our car to continue our trip. The last time we saw the blond she was headed South toward Norfolk as fast as that '41 Chevy would take her. If she would have missed getting on the ferry when we first saw her she would have had an hour delay waiting for the ferry to return. Time was very important to her.

If I could see her today and she was the same age as she was then I believe I would recognize her. Very strange indeed. BTW, for all you guys reading this, she was very pretty.

Lonely Hearts Two

Rita was my cousin and the first women I ever fell in love with. Her husband's name was Reginald and he was serving in the PTO as a combat infantymen. He was in a lot of stuff. His letters home were a source of combat news for our family. I did not Know him then as he and Rita were just Married before he shipped out.

I was too young to retain much of what he wrote about. However I do remember two things that were discussed among the family that he said in one of his letters home. He talked about being some place without water and the only water source was a "small pond with a dead Jap in it". He also mention about a wounded Japanese soldier in a field hospital eating a thermometer to try and commit hari kari.


Picture this in your mind for a moment. Here Reginald is laying in some damp chilly jungle at night with a cold M-1 rifle in his arms hoping that someone dos not have his wife Rita back home in the same position. Now I am going to say this, to coin a modern phrase, Rita was jaw dropping Hot. It must have been something almost unbearable to think about.

While he was maybe thinking of her, she was having thoughts of her own. We were driving around one day with Rita at the wheel and she was having a bad day. She is very sad and starts to rant about the War and how lonely she is. I do not remember all that was said in the car that day but I do recall this being said. " Rita you must wait for Reginald to come home". Rita said,"I know". And she did wait. Reginald survived the war and came home and they were together until he was killed later fighting a fire. After surviving all that combat in the Pacific what a waste.

Rita was killed herself in a car accident a few years ago. She remained attractive even in her latter years. Good looks run in my family. So, I hope that some of you reading this little side bar enjoyed a change from combat stories for a while.

I don't know what memory will pop up next. Someone had better tell me I am not boring you.

Stay tuned Sam

cpirrmann
11-13-2005, 02:20 PM
VF24 F14's at Miramar and on Uss Constellation myself, 6 years after vietnam. My Dad was in Marines trained for invasion of Japan, was out three months and called back in for Korea, My sister and brother-in-law were Vietnam, my grandmother was in Italy in WWII, my grand uncle? Flew for the ATA and another flew for the CAP in WWII. I had two uncles in the Navy during WWII and my great-grandfather was in the Spanish American War. Last, but not least, I have had the privilege of working with many WWII vets esp. B17 crews while working on a B17E restoration. You're right only they're vanishing rapidly as we speak, not just ten years from now. And the stories they have to tell.....all you need do is listen.

JunkoIfurita
11-14-2005, 12:49 AM
I never met my twin great-uncles - My Grandpop's older brothers.

They both signed up for the ANZAC fairly early on and were straight away sent off to the Med. After surviving General Rommel in Tobruk, they made it home to Australia and were given a choice: train new recruits in Western Queensland or go to New Guinea.

Considering that Darwin was being bombed daily at the time, not many soldiers opted for the easy option (although they all had earned it).

Both of them took bullets on the Kokoda trail within days of each other.

Myself, I'm dating a wonderful German lass, and my sister was engaged to a Japanese boy whose grandad was killed in New Guinea too.

Times change for the better, thank the gods.

----

chaikanut
11-15-2005, 05:00 PM
This is the best thread I have ever read; thanks everyone for their personal stories.

Anyway, here is my small contribution.

My mother is from Chania, Crete. She wasnt born at ww2 but had sisters and a brother who were. Her family lived in a mansion and after the german invasion, they were kicked out and their house used as headquarters for the island. Her sisters and brother were allowed to play near the house though and he remembers seeing Rommel a few times and pissing on some poor guys helmet. http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/34.gif

My grandmother from my fathers side lived in Piraeus, Greece at that time and she used to tell me of the air raids done on the ships nearby, the stukas flying above and the explosions. At one time, a ship probably carrying ammo, disintergrated from an explosion and sunk some nearby ships. A piece of metal impaled itself on a tree near where she lived (about 6-7km away from the explosion) and is still there today.

Sambt
11-27-2005, 04:56 PM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
Memories of a kid during WW2

For the War effort

My first attempt at saving Western Civilization from the Nazi menace was not successful. I had asked my mother to give me one of the empty vegetable cans left over from a meal without telling her what I was going to do with it. It was going to school with me the next day and given as scrap for the war effort. Most kids would bring something to school, like either tin foil or a squashed can. This stuff was collected by the teachers and deposited in containers for pickup and we were encouraged to continue to do this.

I just brought a can into school to help win the war. I did not know you had to prepare the thing in a certain way. This first can I brought in still had the residue of whatever vegetable was in it. Besides that it had been opened with a can opener that left a jagged edge on the top of the can and that was not an acceptable way to bring cans in.

Now this teacher, bless her heart, graciously took the time to thank me for my patiotism and proceeded to demonstrate to the class the proper way to prepare cans at home. First off you had to wash the thing. Then you were to cut both ends out with a proper can opener so as not to have jagged edges. Besides it was alot easier to crush them with both ends out. I told my mother about all this when I got home and she went out that very day to buy the can opener that would do the job correctly.

More stuff for the War effort

On the street where we lived in Baltimore was a huge pile of scrap off to one side to allow for traffic flow, where people would throw unwanted metal objects to be used as scrap to help build planes and tanks. There was a lot of junk in that pile. I later saw an Army truck drive up with a couple of unfortunate GI's who had to shovel all that stuff into that truck. Now, I cannot recall if another scrap pile was started after this one was taken away.

Rubber for jeeps and planes

There also was a rubber collection pile located in this large garage complex close to where I lived. The War effort needed rubber to roll those planes and trucks and I was going to see what I could do to help. I found this neat tire sitting in the backyard doing no one any good. I decided to send this tire to war. As I recall it was in good shape and could be used as is.

I roll this thing down to the garage with some effort as it is as big as me. I announce to the attendants what my intentions are and I saw their faces light up with smiles. One guy comes over and kneels down and places a hand on my shoulder and says,"Are you sure you want to give this tire so our soldiers can fight and win this War"? "Yes"., I said.

It was almost impossible to buy tires for your car during War time. It was considered unpatriotic to even want to as it took away from the War effort. People were putting their cars up on blocks for the duration of the War to keep from having to buy tires even if they were available. It is a great wonder to me why my old man didn't kick the **** out of me for giving away one of his hoarded tires. You threw tires away back then only when you could throw a cat through the hole. I believe my father was probably proud of me even tho it cost him a tire. I don't remember ever being punished and I recall him telling the tire story with a chuckle.

This is just a little tidbit from the War years. It is strange how one memory will trigger another. While telling this story it brings up something related in away so as to jolt your brain for more. The well has not run dry yet. This thread was idle for awhile. I was doing an upgrade and became a little lazy to post. If there is still an interest in some of these little stories I will continue. The next post will be about women so stay tuned.

So let me know if I am boring you.

Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

Women during War time

This little story was inspired by the previous one about the giving of my father's tire for the War effort. My old man was telling a GI this act of patriotism on my part while we were on a trip to visit relatives. He had enough stamps to buy gas and he was going to use it. Now this is how women get into this picture.

Lonely hearts

My dad and I were headed for the ferry off Annapolis Maryland. This was before the Chesapeake Bay Bridge was built of course and the ferry connected the Eastern Shore of Maryland with the Western Shore. My father taught me to identify old cars as a sort of game. A '41 Chevy passed us at a high rate of speed with a blond behind the wheel. Now my old man was not going to let a car pass him especially if it was hauling a good looking blond.

He proceeds to play catchup under the pretence of getting a closer look at that '41 Chevy. We make it onto the ferry and go up to the upper deck for refreshments and to enjoy the trip across the Bay. It takes about 30 minutes are so to cross. My old man is still interested in the occupant of that Chevy. I'm thinking his interest in cars is getting out of hand and I am going to tell my mother on him. He bribes me with a hotdog and chocolate milk as it is my favorite and blows the plan to tell up.

He finds out the story on the blond from the GI he is telling about the tire I gave away. So this is how you remember things and one memory leads to another. This lady had no interest in my old man. She wanted to go South.

Lonely Hearts One

Here is the story of the blond in the '41 Chevy as best I can remember it. She was talking to a few people on the ferry along with the GI aswell. She had just gotten word that her husband a Naval officer, and his ship was due into Norfolk Naval Base. His ship was to be there a very short time. She was going to meet him and spend as much time with him as possible. She stated she was willing to pay every speeding ticket she got in order to be with her husband if only for a night.

My father lost interest in the Chevy after hearing this. We made it across the Bay and jumped into our car to continue our trip. The last time we saw the blond she was headed South toward Norfolk as fast as that '41 Chevy would take her. If she would have missed getting on the ferry when we first saw her she would have had an hour delay waiting for the ferry to return. Time was very important to her.

If I could see her today and she was the same age as she was then I believe I would recognize her. Very strange indeed. BTW, for all you guys reading this, she was very pretty.

Lonely Hearts Two

Rita was my cousin and the first women I ever fell in love with. Her husband's name was Reginald and he was serving in the PTO as a combat infantymen. He was in a lot of stuff. His letters home were a source of combat news for our family. I did not Know him then as he and Rita were just Married before he shipped out.

I was too young to retain much of what he wrote about. However I do remember two things that were discussed among the family that he said in one of his letters home. He talked about being some place without water and the only water source was a "small pond with a dead Jap in it". He also mention about a wounded Japanese soldier in a field hospital eating a thermometer to try and commit hari kari.


Picture this in your mind for a moment. Here Reginald is laying in some damp chilly jungle at night with a cold M-1 rifle in his arms hoping that someone dos not have his wife Rita back home in the same position. Now I am going to say this, to coin a modern phrase, Rita was jaw dropping Hot. It must have been something almost unbearable to think about.

While he was maybe thinking of her, she was having thoughts of her own. We were driving around one day with Rita at the wheel and she was having a bad day. She is very sad and starts to rant about the War and how lonely she is. I do not remember all that was said in the car that day but I do recall this being said. " Rita you must wait for Reginald to come home". Rita said,"I know". And she did wait. Reginald survived the war and came home and they were together until he was killed later fighting a fire. After surviving all that combat in the Pacific what a waste.

Rita was killed herself in a car accident a few years ago. She remained attractive even in her latter years. Good looks run in my family. So, I hope that some of you reading this little side bar enjoyed a change from combat stories for a while.

I don't know what memory will pop up next. Someone had better tell me I am not boring you.

Stay tuned Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

I have a couple of questions and I am hoping that someone reading these little stories can help me. While posting the memory about the lady on the ferry it reminded me of a book that I saw advertized somewhere and I cannot remember where I saw it or when. It was after the war and could have been in the late fifties or perhaps the early sixties I am just not sure. This book was written by a German U-Boat Captain and the title was "I sailed up the Chesapeake Bay". My first question is, has anyone here heard of such a book and if so, where can I get it?

If this feat was true then the U-boat commander that pulled it off had some really big ones made out of solid brass. He also had brains and good sense to match. If he had taken it upon himself to have sunk the Navel Academy off Annapolis there is no way he could have gotten back out of the Bay into open water in one piece. It is kind of unsetteling to look back and to think that the ferry I was on could have been in the sight reticle of an U-Boat periscope.

Question number two is this. How do I get a photo into a post? Do I have to buy special componants or can I have someone who has the gear do it for me as a link maybe? My reason is this. For those of you who are reading my stuff, go back to the memory "Prisoners of War" where I mentioned Ann's uncle. He was a waist gunner on a B-17 that was KIA on a bomb run. I said in that post that the waist gunner was "another story and a good one". So if there is an interest I would like to put a face on that story. I am trying to do a little more research as to what bomb group he was in and the target on the day he was KIA. Some heroic stuff I'm telling ya right now.

Speaking of heroics let me share this while I am in this post. I was in the army back in the fifties. I was Airborne and in the first Special Forces unit that was formed in the states. Col.Raft, a famous 82nd Abn. commander was instrumental in it's creation. Now at that time most of my C.O.'s first sgts. team leaders etc. were WW2 vets. I recently read somewhere how hard it was for some vets to adjust to normalcy after being in war. There were some who had trouble adjusting without war. This is about two WW2 vets I knew.

Band of Brothers

82nd Airborne

Sgt.Smitty was a character. He knew "Dutch"Shultz, the guy that was caught on the steeple in Ste Mere Eglise that was made famous in the movie "The longest Day". Smitty was talkative and expressed himself in a jocular manner. I never heard him brag on himself. He had as many combat jumps as I had jumps at that time. He was not afraid to express an opinion and give someone what they deserved. We were on a truck going to training one day and Smitty heard someone in our unit from Europe *****ing about the army and the USA. In no uncertain terms Smitty jumps into the session by telling him if he did not like where he was to get the hell out as there were plenty in Europe right now that would glady trade places with him.

Now here is something about Smitty that would give you chills and I was not the only one to feel this way. He at that time said he was an atheist. We would be up in one of those miserable C=119,s waiting to make a jump and Smitty would start to rant against God. "There is no God, and if there is I ask Him to strike this plane with lightning to prove himself". Here we are all chuted up praying there is a God to help us get out of a C-119 one more time.

Our C.O.,who was on the jump with us, was a Major and as a young Lt. went
ashore with the Rangers at Point du Hoc. He did not share Smitty's religous views and told him to shut up.

Smitty made the drop into Normandy. He was a real warrior. He said his great desire was to move on to Berlin and find Axis Sally and rape her ***. He also had one other great ambition. "I want there to be another war as I want to win the Congressional Medal of Honor or die trying".

101st Airborne

Sgt. Jake was not my idea of what a hero was to look like. Let me first describe for you what his left chest looked like while in uniform. Master jump wings with several combat jumps. Combat Infantry Badge with Star. I am just going to describe the first row of ribbons as there is no need to go any farther. Congressional Medal of Honor, Distinguised Service Cross,and Silver Star. Jake was a Master Sgt. and had also received a battlefield commission during the War. I think he went up to captain. After the war he elected to stay in after the cutback to enlisted grade.

Now Jake had a problem. I saw him knee walking gutter drunk in uniform with all that salad (Ribbons) on his chest and it was not a pretty sight. Here was a guy that was decorated probably just a little behind Audie Murhpy as far as medals go. I did not know him personaly but he was a sweet heart of a man. He would come in sometime to report for duty to loaded to perform that duty. All the officers along with the Sgts. would hid Jake away somewhere to protect him. It was "But for the grace of God go I" Type of thing. I was too young and stupid at the time to know what I was looking at. I had this image of heroes and poor Jake did not fit it at that time. Now I am older and perhaps a little wiser and looking back to Jake all I can say now is "Thankyou Jake". I never saw what you saw. I was not where you have been and do not know what you have experienced. I do not know what happened to Jake. I hope he made it as he is one of my heroes.

The moral of this for me is don't be to quick to pass judgment on what may later kick you in the ***. Just two guys from an era that was tough. They did what they had to do I guess and tried to handle it the best they could after it was over. It was a mess for sure.

More? Sam

leitmotiv
11-29-2005, 04:52 PM
My father's father was a U.S. Doughboy in WWI. He was gassed and died from the effects in the U.S. about ten years after the war. My father was on the BALAO class fleet sub CHARR and did two war patrols in CHARR and one in her sister in 1944-45. His job was to maintain one of the sub's engines and he was also the sub's diver. He was "volunteered" to swim into Singapore Harbor with explosive charges on what would have been a high-risk mission because the Royal Navy was planning a similar venture. The powers-that-be decided if the RN sacrificed some pawns we would, too. Fortunately for all concerned, the project was scrapped. CHARR torpedoed a Japanese AA cruiser, ISUZU, and the escorts jumped CHARR while her pack mates sank the cruiser. During the lengthy and nasty depth charging my father's job was to stand by his engine and remain cool. Brought home to me how miserable it was for the majority of seamen in a sub during a depth charging. Only a handful of the crew had anything to do. The rest had to stare at the steel hull and hope the ocean didn't come pouring through. I would have gone stark, raving mad. For years he woke up with nightmares about this incident. My father had been a deckhand on millionaires' yachts before the war as a way of making money in the Great Depression. As an experienced sailor, he was ambivolent about sending other sailors to their deaths. He was not happy about leaving Japanese merchant seamen to drown. Some U.S. subs actively attacked survivors and the incidents were well documented. Mush Morton's famous massacre in 1943 is a case in point. Once CHARR sank a ship loaded with Japanese soldiers. My father was on deck as part of the five-inch deck crew (CHARR was a "gunboat" with two). The boat's Exec appeared on deck and started handing out machine guns and other small arms. My father and the other whitehats were told to open fire on all survivors. None of them were keen on killing this way. Despite what some have written about the Pacific War being an unrestrained race war, none of the sailors had any desire to kill Japanese survivors. The boat's Captain saw what was going on and told the Exec to go below. The Exec protested that shooting survivors was standard procedure on his last boat. The Captain said it wasn't on his boat. My father and the other whitehats were very relieved. One amusing thing: my father had forearms like Popeye the Sailor---huge. When the war was over, he went on shore leave 'til he died in '96---the Eternal Whitehat. Was an ace Cadillac salesman and probably laid half the women in the San Francisco Bay Area. He liked to use his ex-USN privileges to go to the Navy Moffat Field Officers' Club for drinks. He had a sailboat and sailed out of Santa Cruz and up and down the California coast until he got too old for it.

Sambt
12-05-2005, 11:16 PM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
Memories of a kid during WW2

For the War effort

My first attempt at saving Western Civilization from the Nazi menace was not successful. I had asked my mother to give me one of the empty vegetable cans left over from a meal without telling her what I was going to do with it. It was going to school with me the next day and given as scrap for the war effort. Most kids would bring something to school, like either tin foil or a squashed can. This stuff was collected by the teachers and deposited in containers for pickup and we were encouraged to continue to do this.

I just brought a can into school to help win the war. I did not know you had to prepare the thing in a certain way. This first can I brought in still had the residue of whatever vegetable was in it. Besides that it had been opened with a can opener that left a jagged edge on the top of the can and that was not an acceptable way to bring cans in.

Now this teacher, bless her heart, graciously took the time to thank me for my patiotism and proceeded to demonstrate to the class the proper way to prepare cans at home. First off you had to wash the thing. Then you were to cut both ends out with a proper can opener so as not to have jagged edges. Besides it was alot easier to crush them with both ends out. I told my mother about all this when I got home and she went out that very day to buy the can opener that would do the job correctly.

More stuff for the War effort

On the street where we lived in Baltimore was a huge pile of scrap off to one side to allow for traffic flow, where people would throw unwanted metal objects to be used as scrap to help build planes and tanks. There was a lot of junk in that pile. I later saw an Army truck drive up with a couple of unfortunate GI's who had to shovel all that stuff into that truck. Now, I cannot recall if another scrap pile was started after this one was taken away.

Rubber for jeeps and planes

There also was a rubber collection pile located in this large garage complex close to where I lived. The War effort needed rubber to roll those planes and trucks and I was going to see what I could do to help. I found this neat tire sitting in the backyard doing no one any good. I decided to send this tire to war. As I recall it was in good shape and could be used as is.

I roll this thing down to the garage with some effort as it is as big as me. I announce to the attendants what my intentions are and I saw their faces light up with smiles. One guy comes over and kneels down and places a hand on my shoulder and says,"Are you sure you want to give this tire so our soldiers can fight and win this War"? "Yes"., I said.

It was almost impossible to buy tires for your car during War time. It was considered unpatriotic to even want to as it took away from the War effort. People were putting their cars up on blocks for the duration of the War to keep from having to buy tires even if they were available. It is a great wonder to me why my old man didn't kick the **** out of me for giving away one of his hoarded tires. You threw tires away back then only when you could throw a cat through the hole. I believe my father was probably proud of me even tho it cost him a tire. I don't remember ever being punished and I recall him telling the tire story with a chuckle.

This is just a little tidbit from the War years. It is strange how one memory will trigger another. While telling this story it brings up something related in away so as to jolt your brain for more. The well has not run dry yet. This thread was idle for awhile. I was doing an upgrade and became a little lazy to post. If there is still an interest in some of these little stories I will continue. The next post will be about women so stay tuned.

So let me know if I am boring you.

Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

Women during War time

This little story was inspired by the previous one about the giving of my father's tire for the War effort. My old man was telling a GI this act of patriotism on my part while we were on a trip to visit relatives. He had enough stamps to buy gas and he was going to use it. Now this is how women get into this picture.

Lonely hearts

My dad and I were headed for the ferry off Annapolis Maryland. This was before the Chesapeake Bay Bridge was built of course and the ferry connected the Eastern Shore of Maryland with the Western Shore. My father taught me to identify old cars as a sort of game. A '41 Chevy passed us at a high rate of speed with a blond behind the wheel. Now my old man was not going to let a car pass him especially if it was hauling a good looking blond.

He proceeds to play catchup under the pretence of getting a closer look at that '41 Chevy. We make it onto the ferry and go up to the upper deck for refreshments and to enjoy the trip across the Bay. It takes about 30 minutes are so to cross. My old man is still interested in the occupant of that Chevy. I'm thinking his interest in cars is getting out of hand and I am going to tell my mother on him. He bribes me with a hotdog and chocolate milk as it is my favorite and blows the plan to tell up.

He finds out the story on the blond from the GI he is telling about the tire I gave away. So this is how you remember things and one memory leads to another. This lady had no interest in my old man. She wanted to go South.

Lonely Hearts One

Here is the story of the blond in the '41 Chevy as best I can remember it. She was talking to a few people on the ferry along with the GI aswell. She had just gotten word that her husband a Naval officer, and his ship was due into Norfolk Naval Base. His ship was to be there a very short time. She was going to meet him and spend as much time with him as possible. She stated she was willing to pay every speeding ticket she got in order to be with her husband if only for a night.

My father lost interest in the Chevy after hearing this. We made it across the Bay and jumped into our car to continue our trip. The last time we saw the blond she was headed South toward Norfolk as fast as that '41 Chevy would take her. If she would have missed getting on the ferry when we first saw her she would have had an hour delay waiting for the ferry to return. Time was very important to her.

If I could see her today and she was the same age as she was then I believe I would recognize her. Very strange indeed. BTW, for all you guys reading this, she was very pretty.

Lonely Hearts Two

Rita was my cousin and the first women I ever fell in love with. Her husband's name was Reginald and he was serving in the PTO as a combat infantymen. He was in a lot of stuff. His letters home were a source of combat news for our family. I did not Know him then as he and Rita were just Married before he shipped out.

I was too young to retain much of what he wrote about. However I do remember two things that were discussed among the family that he said in one of his letters home. He talked about being some place without water and the only water source was a "small pond with a dead Jap in it". He also mention about a wounded Japanese soldier in a field hospital eating a thermometer to try and commit hari kari.


Picture this in your mind for a moment. Here Reginald is laying in some damp chilly jungle at night with a cold M-1 rifle in his arms hoping that someone dos not have his wife Rita back home in the same position. Now I am going to say this, to coin a modern phrase, Rita was jaw dropping Hot. It must have been something almost unbearable to think about.

While he was maybe thinking of her, she was having thoughts of her own. We were driving around one day with Rita at the wheel and she was having a bad day. She is very sad and starts to rant about the War and how lonely she is. I do not remember all that was said in the car that day but I do recall this being said. " Rita you must wait for Reginald to come home". Rita said,"I know". And she did wait. Reginald survived the war and came home and they were together until he was killed later fighting a fire. After surviving all that combat in the Pacific what a waste.

Rita was killed herself in a car accident a few years ago. She remained attractive even in her latter years. Good looks run in my family. So, I hope that some of you reading this little side bar enjoyed a change from combat stories for a while.

I don't know what memory will pop up next. Someone had better tell me I am not boring you.

Stay tuned Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

I have a couple of questions and I am hoping that someone reading these little stories can help me. While posting the memory about the lady on the ferry it reminded me of a book that I saw advertized somewhere and I cannot remember where I saw it or when. It was after the war and could have been in the late fifties or perhaps the early sixties I am just not sure. This book was written by a German U-Boat Captain and the title was "I sailed up the Chesapeake Bay". My first question is, has anyone here heard of such a book and if so, where can I get it?

If this feat was true then the U-boat commander that pulled it off had some really big ones made out of solid brass. He also had brains and good sense to match. If he had taken it upon himself to have sunk the Navel Academy off Annapolis there is no way he could have gotten back out of the Bay into open water in one piece. It is kind of unsetteling to look back and to think that the ferry I was on could have been in the sight reticle of an U-Boat periscope.

Question number two is this. How do I get a photo into a post? Do I have to buy special componants or can I have someone who has the gear do it for me as a link maybe? My reason is this. For those of you who are reading my stuff, go back to the memory "Prisoners of War" where I mentioned Ann's uncle. He was a waist gunner on a B-17 that was KIA on a bomb run. I said in that post that the waist gunner was "another story and a good one". So if there is an interest I would like to put a face on that story. I am trying to do a little more research as to what bomb group he was in and the target on the day he was KIA. Some heroic stuff I'm telling ya right now.

Speaking of heroics let me share this while I am in this post. I was in the army back in the fifties. I was Airborne and in the first Special Forces unit that was formed in the states. Col.Raft, a famous 82nd Abn. commander was instrumental in it's creation. Now at that time most of my C.O.'s first sgts. team leaders etc. were WW2 vets. I recently read somewhere how hard it was for some vets to adjust to normalcy after being in war. There were some who had trouble adjusting without war. This is about two WW2 vets I knew.

Band of Brothers

82nd Airborne

Sgt.Smitty was a character. He knew "Dutch"Shultz, the guy that was caught on the steeple in Ste Mere Eglise that was made famous in the movie "The longest Day". Smitty was talkative and expressed himself in a jocular manner. I never heard him brag on himself. He had as many combat jumps as I had jumps at that time. He was not afraid to express an opinion and give someone what they deserved. We were on a truck going to training one day and Smitty heard someone in our unit from Europe *****ing about the army and the USA. In no uncertain terms Smitty jumps into the session by telling him if he did not like where he was to get the hell out as there were plenty in Europe right now that would glady trade places with him.

Now here is something about Smitty that would give you chills and I was not the only one to feel this way. He at that time said he was an atheist. We would be up in one of those miserable C=119,s waiting to make a jump and Smitty would start to rant against God. "There is no God, and if there is I ask Him to strike this plane with lightning to prove himself". Here we are all chuted up praying there is a God to help us get out of a C-119 one more time.

Our C.O.,who was on the jump with us, was a Major and as a young Lt. went
ashore with the Rangers at Point du Hoc. He did not share Smitty's religous views and told him to shut up.

Smitty made the drop into Normandy. He was a real warrior. He said his great desire was to move on to Berlin and find Axis Sally and rape her ***. He also had one other great ambition. "I want there to be another war as I want to win the Congressional Medal of Honor or die trying".

101st Airborne

Sgt. Jake was not my idea of what a hero was to look like. Let me first describe for you what his left chest looked like while in uniform. Master jump wings with several combat jumps. Combat Infantry Badge with Star. I am just going to describe the first row of ribbons as there is no need to go any farther. Congressional Medal of Honor, Distinguised Service Cross,and Silver Star. Jake was a Master Sgt. and had also received a battlefield commission during the War. I think he went up to captain. After the war he elected to stay in after the cutback to enlisted grade.

Now Jake had a problem. I saw him knee walking gutter drunk in uniform with all that salad (Ribbons) on his chest and it was not a pretty sight. Here was a guy that was decorated probably just a little behind Audie Murhpy as far as medals go. I did not know him personaly but he was a sweet heart of a man. He would come in sometime to report for duty to loaded to perform that duty. All the officers along with the Sgts. would hid Jake away somewhere to protect him. It was "But for the grace of God go I" Type of thing. I was too young and stupid at the time to know what I was looking at. I had this image of heroes and poor Jake did not fit it at that time. Now I am older and perhaps a little wiser and looking back to Jake all I can say now is "Thankyou Jake". I never saw what you saw. I was not where you have been and do not know what you have experienced. I do not know what happened to Jake. I hope he made it as he is one of my heroes.

The moral of this for me is don't be to quick to pass judgment on what may later kick you in the ***. Just two guys from an era that was tough. They did what they had to do I guess and tried to handle it the best they could after it was over. It was a mess for sure.

More? Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

Bicycles

How many here remember their first bike? Probably most of us. During the War you could not buy bicycles because all the shops were manufacturing war goods. If a kid got a bike at all it was either handed down or bought used. I wanted a bike and this is how my father found one.

I was living with my Grandparents on the lower Eastern Shore of Maryland at this time and my father located a small two wheeler that a bigger kid had out grown. This bike was located near to where we lived. Seems simple enough to just go and buy the thing but there is a catch. It is impossible for the father of the big kid to find a bike for his son so he makes a deal with my dad. "You find a big bike for my son and then we will trade", he said.

Gold Star

My Parents come down from Baltimore one weekend and tide on the back of his '39 Dodge was the biggest most beautiful bicycle you could imagine. It looked brand new. He took it over to trade for that little bike. I see the small bike for the first time when he brings it home to me. It is a faded red and looks used but right at that moment it looks better to me then that big bike because this one is mine.

This is how my father found a bike to trade. It belonged to a young man that was KIA in the War. His family, because of grief, wanted to get rid of the reminders of their boy. They apparently could not stand to see that bicycle. I remember my Parents talking about the Gold Star in the window of that home. A gold star indicated that in that household a loved one had given his life in the service of his country.

Well, that is how I got my first bike and I will always remember it.

Sam

Bill_Bones
12-06-2005, 11:38 AM
Houm...

This is a story of a relative of mine... don't know exactly how to call him; he was brother in law of my granma, but we all knew him as "uncle Pepe". This story is from the Spanish Civil War.

He was a ship mechanic before the war, and when it started he joined the Republican Navy at Cartagena. There he ended as 2nd mechanic or similar aboard a submarine. Well then, one day the submarine had to stop at Barcelona. It entered the harbor at dawn and the crew was given a pass until noon next day. Uncle Pepe had been to Barcelona and he found his way into the city's night, apart of his comrades. He went to a brothel so he could stay there until next morning. The next day, he went to the harbor at 11:30 AM, and, to his surprise, the submarine wasn't there. He went to the Navy HQ to report his case. There he was told that the submarine had received orders to leave port before 8 AM. Most sailors had come back to he submarine sooner than that; actually uncle Pepe was the only who, knowing the city, had exhausted his pass' allowance. So they left him behind. After spending the whole day at the HQ, he was ordered to go to Valencia and wait for further ordres. He thought that this was silly as the submarine wouldn't stop at Valencia, but he did so. As was expectable, once in Valencia he was ordered to go to Cartagena and wait for the submarine there. Once at Cartagena, several days after the stop at Barcelona, uncle Pepe still didn't knew anyhting about the submarine. He talked to a friend at the Navy HQ in Cartagena and he told him that the submarine was missing. It hadn't communciated in any way and was late in its schedule. Some days later, he was officially informed that the submarine had been declared lost at sea and all his comrades where MIA. Later he heard rumors that there had been a battle near to Barcelona between rebel ships and a republican submarine and the submarine had been claimed sunk by the rebels. The crew was declared KIA and uncle Pepe was the only survivor. Being friend to the *****s in a brothel in Barcelona had saved his life. But his comrades where all dead. He felt very sorry as some of the guys where real young; he was 24 or 25, very old to what was usual.

Uncle Pepe lived other adventures after the war; he desserted, fle do the uk, then left it to the USA before WW2 and spent the War as engineer aboard a liner in the Caribbean. He earned a little fortune smuggling goods up and down the Caribbean, and in 1953 he came back to Spain with a heap of dollars and a Indian bike larger than him (he was 5'tall and the bike was like 7 feet long).

triad773
12-07-2005, 01:12 PM
Great thread! My uncle and his kids have a diary of a family member who was conscripted into the Confederate Army in Georgia (USA: 1863, or there abouts). He didn't have the resources to have someone go in his place, so he went only grudgingly. He saw only one battle, after which he determined he'd had enough, and deserted. He wound up spending the duration of the war in Kansas, basically an indentured servant- after a stint in debtor's prison. A local farmer bailed him out in return for work on his farm.

The other side of the family recounts the tail of a family member who joined the Michigan Volunteers, who saw battles in the Kentucky/Tennessee/Ohio area, only to lose part of a leg and wind up in Andersonville Prison Camp, where he spent the duration of the war.

My uncle joined the Marines in WWII, but was young. He trained to invade Japan, and was stationed on Okinawa- but we dropped the A-bomb that no doubt saved his and countless other American lives. He did bring back an Officer's Samari sword though, whose last whereabouts were last seen as one of his kids (my nephews) drag it along the ground playing with other kids (by then the sword was rusted all to heck and very dull). Those kids have the aforementioned diary from the American Civil War. Wish I could get my hands on that for a closer look!

Then my dad was a merchant seaman during WWII sailing Liberty Ships out of New York and the east coast. I remember his stories though he died back in 73'. He talked of always sleeping in his clothes while on ship for fear of torpedo attacks. Had two ships shot out from under him (as he put it). Complained about the deck gun on the fore deck being pretty useless, though they still had to drill and be proficient at it.

Thanks for everyone else's posts. It's very interesting to see what stories there are out there. It could be the beginning of a Wiki-military history thread!

Cheers!

Triad773

Ijnpilot
12-12-2005, 02:52 PM
My grandfather was born in 1917 and served in the Waffen SS. It was probably because he was 6'3" with blond hair and blue eyes http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/16x16_smiley-tongue.gif Anyway, he was a signaller and had the rank of Untersturmfüher(Leutnant). He had a real knack for languages (he could speak English, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Russian, Japanese, and Italian in addition to German)and the Abwehr found out about him so he somehow got involved in that. He became a POW in New York after somehow getting there and getting caught.

I don't know too much about him as my mother stopped talking with him shortly after I was born. That glossed over post is based on pictures of him in his uniform and her stories.

coreyg77
12-12-2005, 04:25 PM
Enjoyed this thread. My dad flew in WWII as a flight instructor out in Reno, Nevada - then went to the South Pacific where he flew the C-47 Sky Train as captain.

He made it back, and there were two times in which he was almost killed. One, while dropping cargo from the C 47, the rope wrapped around his leg as the cargo was falling and he barely got it off before it would have sucked him right out. Two, they had carbuerator icing while flying over the ocen to Hawaii - one engine went out and the other almost did. They flew on in on one engine.

I sure wish he could have been around to see these Il-2 sims - he sure would have enjoyed them!

By the way, I'm new to Il-2. Hope to get PF soon - is there a C-47 in any of these games?

Thanks -


Corey

Sambt
12-18-2005, 11:09 PM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
Memories of a kid during WW2

For the War effort

My first attempt at saving Western Civilization from the Nazi menace was not successful. I had asked my mother to give me one of the empty vegetable cans left over from a meal without telling her what I was going to do with it. It was going to school with me the next day and given as scrap for the war effort. Most kids would bring something to school, like either tin foil or a squashed can. This stuff was collected by the teachers and deposited in containers for pickup and we were encouraged to continue to do this.

I just brought a can into school to help win the war. I did not know you had to prepare the thing in a certain way. This first can I brought in still had the residue of whatever vegetable was in it. Besides that it had been opened with a can opener that left a jagged edge on the top of the can and that was not an acceptable way to bring cans in.

Now this teacher, bless her heart, graciously took the time to thank me for my patiotism and proceeded to demonstrate to the class the proper way to prepare cans at home. First off you had to wash the thing. Then you were to cut both ends out with a proper can opener so as not to have jagged edges. Besides it was alot easier to crush them with both ends out. I told my mother about all this when I got home and she went out that very day to buy the can opener that would do the job correctly.

More stuff for the War effort

On the street where we lived in Baltimore was a huge pile of scrap off to one side to allow for traffic flow, where people would throw unwanted metal objects to be used as scrap to help build planes and tanks. There was a lot of junk in that pile. I later saw an Army truck drive up with a couple of unfortunate GI's who had to shovel all that stuff into that truck. Now, I cannot recall if another scrap pile was started after this one was taken away.

Rubber for jeeps and planes

There also was a rubber collection pile located in this large garage complex close to where I lived. The War effort needed rubber to roll those planes and trucks and I was going to see what I could do to help. I found this neat tire sitting in the backyard doing no one any good. I decided to send this tire to war. As I recall it was in good shape and could be used as is.

I roll this thing down to the garage with some effort as it is as big as me. I announce to the attendants what my intentions are and I saw their faces light up with smiles. One guy comes over and kneels down and places a hand on my shoulder and says,"Are you sure you want to give this tire so our soldiers can fight and win this War"? "Yes"., I said.

It was almost impossible to buy tires for your car during War time. It was considered unpatriotic to even want to as it took away from the War effort. People were putting their cars up on blocks for the duration of the War to keep from having to buy tires even if they were available. It is a great wonder to me why my old man didn't kick the **** out of me for giving away one of his hoarded tires. You threw tires away back then only when you could throw a cat through the hole. I believe my father was probably proud of me even tho it cost him a tire. I don't remember ever being punished and I recall him telling the tire story with a chuckle.

This is just a little tidbit from the War years. It is strange how one memory will trigger another. While telling this story it brings up something related in away so as to jolt your brain for more. The well has not run dry yet. This thread was idle for awhile. I was doing an upgrade and became a little lazy to post. If there is still an interest in some of these little stories I will continue. The next post will be about women so stay tuned.

So let me know if I am boring you.

Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

Women during War time

This little story was inspired by the previous one about the giving of my father's tire for the War effort. My old man was telling a GI this act of patriotism on my part while we were on a trip to visit relatives. He had enough stamps to buy gas and he was going to use it. Now this is how women get into this picture.

Lonely hearts

My dad and I were headed for the ferry off Annapolis Maryland. This was before the Chesapeake Bay Bridge was built of course and the ferry connected the Eastern Shore of Maryland with the Western Shore. My father taught me to identify old cars as a sort of game. A '41 Chevy passed us at a high rate of speed with a blond behind the wheel. Now my old man was not going to let a car pass him especially if it was hauling a good looking blond.

He proceeds to play catchup under the pretence of getting a closer look at that '41 Chevy. We make it onto the ferry and go up to the upper deck for refreshments and to enjoy the trip across the Bay. It takes about 30 minutes are so to cross. My old man is still interested in the occupant of that Chevy. I'm thinking his interest in cars is getting out of hand and I am going to tell my mother on him. He bribes me with a hotdog and chocolate milk as it is my favorite and blows the plan to tell up.

He finds out the story on the blond from the GI he is telling about the tire I gave away. So this is how you remember things and one memory leads to another. This lady had no interest in my old man. She wanted to go South.

Lonely Hearts One

Here is the story of the blond in the '41 Chevy as best I can remember it. She was talking to a few people on the ferry along with the GI aswell. She had just gotten word that her husband a Naval officer, and his ship was due into Norfolk Naval Base. His ship was to be there a very short time. She was going to meet him and spend as much time with him as possible. She stated she was willing to pay every speeding ticket she got in order to be with her husband if only for a night.

My father lost interest in the Chevy after hearing this. We made it across the Bay and jumped into our car to continue our trip. The last time we saw the blond she was headed South toward Norfolk as fast as that '41 Chevy would take her. If she would have missed getting on the ferry when we first saw her she would have had an hour delay waiting for the ferry to return. Time was very important to her.

If I could see her today and she was the same age as she was then I believe I would recognize her. Very strange indeed. BTW, for all you guys reading this, she was very pretty.

Lonely Hearts Two

Rita was my cousin and the first women I ever fell in love with. Her husband's name was Reginald and he was serving in the PTO as a combat infantymen. He was in a lot of stuff. His letters home were a source of combat news for our family. I did not Know him then as he and Rita were just Married before he shipped out.

I was too young to retain much of what he wrote about. However I do remember two things that were discussed among the family that he said in one of his letters home. He talked about being some place without water and the only water source was a "small pond with a dead Jap in it". He also mention about a wounded Japanese soldier in a field hospital eating a thermometer to try and commit hari kari.


Picture this in your mind for a moment. Here Reginald is laying in some damp chilly jungle at night with a cold M-1 rifle in his arms hoping that someone dos not have his wife Rita back home in the same position. Now I am going to say this, to coin a modern phrase, Rita was jaw dropping Hot. It must have been something almost unbearable to think about.

While he was maybe thinking of her, she was having thoughts of her own. We were driving around one day with Rita at the wheel and she was having a bad day. She is very sad and starts to rant about the War and how lonely she is. I do not remember all that was said in the car that day but I do recall this being said. " Rita you must wait for Reginald to come home". Rita said,"I know". And she did wait. Reginald survived the war and came home and they were together until he was killed later fighting a fire. After surviving all that combat in the Pacific what a waste.

Rita was killed herself in a car accident a few years ago. She remained attractive even in her latter years. Good looks run in my family. So, I hope that some of you reading this little side bar enjoyed a change from combat stories for a while.

I don't know what memory will pop up next. Someone had better tell me I am not boring you.

Stay tuned Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

I have a couple of questions and I am hoping that someone reading these little stories can help me. While posting the memory about the lady on the ferry it reminded me of a book that I saw advertized somewhere and I cannot remember where I saw it or when. It was after the war and could have been in the late fifties or perhaps the early sixties I am just not sure. This book was written by a German U-Boat Captain and the title was "I sailed up the Chesapeake Bay". My first question is, has anyone here heard of such a book and if so, where can I get it?

If this feat was true then the U-boat commander that pulled it off had some really big ones made out of solid brass. He also had brains and good sense to match. If he had taken it upon himself to have sunk the Navel Academy off Annapolis there is no way he could have gotten back out of the Bay into open water in one piece. It is kind of unsetteling to look back and to think that the ferry I was on could have been in the sight reticle of an U-Boat periscope.

Question number two is this. How do I get a photo into a post? Do I have to buy special componants or can I have someone who has the gear do it for me as a link maybe? My reason is this. For those of you who are reading my stuff, go back to the memory "Prisoners of War" where I mentioned Ann's uncle. He was a waist gunner on a B-17 that was KIA on a bomb run. I said in that post that the waist gunner was "another story and a good one". So if there is an interest I would like to put a face on that story. I am trying to do a little more research as to what bomb group he was in and the target on the day he was KIA. Some heroic stuff I'm telling ya right now.

Speaking of heroics let me share this while I am in this post. I was in the army back in the fifties. I was Airborne and in the first Special Forces unit that was formed in the states. Col.Raft, a famous 82nd Abn. commander was instrumental in it's creation. Now at that time most of my C.O.'s first sgts. team leaders etc. were WW2 vets. I recently read somewhere how hard it was for some vets to adjust to normalcy after being in war. There were some who had trouble adjusting without war. This is about two WW2 vets I knew.

Band of Brothers

82nd Airborne

Sgt.Smitty was a character. He knew "Dutch"Shultz, the guy that was caught on the steeple in Ste Mere Eglise that was made famous in the movie "The longest Day". Smitty was talkative and expressed himself in a jocular manner. I never heard him brag on himself. He had as many combat jumps as I had jumps at that time. He was not afraid to express an opinion and give someone what they deserved. We were on a truck going to training one day and Smitty heard someone in our unit from Europe *****ing about the army and the USA. In no uncertain terms Smitty jumps into the session by telling him if he did not like where he was to get the hell out as there were plenty in Europe right now that would glady trade places with him.

Now here is something about Smitty that would give you chills and I was not the only one to feel this way. He at that time said he was an atheist. We would be up in one of those miserable C=119,s waiting to make a jump and Smitty would start to rant against God. "There is no God, and if there is I ask Him to strike this plane with lightning to prove himself". Here we are all chuted up praying there is a God to help us get out of a C-119 one more time.

Our C.O.,who was on the jump with us, was a Major and as a young Lt. went
ashore with the Rangers at Point du Hoc. He did not share Smitty's religous views and told him to shut up.

Smitty made the drop into Normandy. He was a real warrior. He said his great desire was to move on to Berlin and find Axis Sally and rape her ***. He also had one other great ambition. "I want there to be another war as I want to win the Congressional Medal of Honor or die trying".

101st Airborne

Sgt. Jake was not my idea of what a hero was to look like. Let me first describe for you what his left chest looked like while in uniform. Master jump wings with several combat jumps. Combat Infantry Badge with Star. I am just going to describe the first row of ribbons as there is no need to go any farther. Congressional Medal of Honor, Distinguised Service Cross,and Silver Star. Jake was a Master Sgt. and had also received a battlefield commission during the War. I think he went up to captain. After the war he elected to stay in after the cutback to enlisted grade.

Now Jake had a problem. I saw him knee walking gutter drunk in uniform with all that salad (Ribbons) on his chest and it was not a pretty sight. Here was a guy that was decorated probably just a little behind Audie Murhpy as far as medals go. I did not know him personaly but he was a sweet heart of a man. He would come in sometime to report for duty to loaded to perform that duty. All the officers along with the Sgts. would hid Jake away somewhere to protect him. It was "But for the grace of God go I" Type of thing. I was too young and stupid at the time to know what I was looking at. I had this image of heroes and poor Jake did not fit it at that time. Now I am older and perhaps a little wiser and looking back to Jake all I can say now is "Thankyou Jake". I never saw what you saw. I was not where you have been and do not know what you have experienced. I do not know what happened to Jake. I hope he made it as he is one of my heroes.

The moral of this for me is don't be to quick to pass judgment on what may later kick you in the ***. Just two guys from an era that was tough. They did what they had to do I guess and tried to handle it the best they could after it was over. It was a mess for sure.

More? Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

Bicycles

How many here remember their first bike? Probably most of us. During the War you could not buy bicycles because all the shops were manufacturing war goods. If a kid got a bike at all it was either handed down or bought used. I wanted a bike and this is how my father found one.

I was living with my Grandparents on the lower Eastern Shore of Maryland at this time and my father located a small two wheeler that a bigger kid had out grown. This bike was located near to where we lived. Seems simple enough to just go and buy the thing but there is a catch. It is impossible for the father of the big kid to find a bike for his son so he makes a deal with my dad. "You find a big bike for my son and then we will trade", he said.

Gold Star

My Parents come down from Baltimore one weekend and tide on the back of his '39 Dodge was the biggest most beautiful bicycle you could imagine. It looked brand new. He took it over to trade for that little bike. I see the small bike for the first time when he brings it home to me. It is a faded red and looks used but right at that moment it looks better to me then that big bike because this one is mine.

This is how my father found a bike to trade. It belonged to a young man that was KIA in the War. His family, because of grief, wanted to get rid of the reminders of their boy. They apparently could not stand to see that bicycle. I remember my Parents talking about the Gold Star in the window of that home. A gold star indicated that in that household a loved one had given his life in the service of his country.

Well, that is how I got my first bike and I will always remember it.

Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

Souvenirs

As a kid growing up during WW2 there were times when you got to touch things sent home as souvenirs. There was a package sent home by a cousin and I had an opportunity to see as it was opened.

I was with my Grandpa and he came home and wanted to know if I wanted to see this package that his nephew had sent to his family that live just next door. This cousin was in the ETO and we knew it was German stuff. Off we went to see what it was.

German stuff

When we got to the house it was packed with relatives that was as curious as I was as to the contents of that package. The first thing that came out was this Mauser rifle in perfect shape. I heard an uncle exclaim, "I bet this rifle has killed many of our boys". There were knives, a German uniform, and other things that I now cannot remember. The thing that I remember the most was this German Parachute. They took this thing outside in the wind and when it inflated I thought it was a most impressive sight. It was a camouflage color and appeared to be in new condition. I don't know what became of that stuff as I never got to play with any of it. It was sure a thrill for a little kid to see and I guess that was enough.

More German stuff

After the war, relics would show up as toys for kids to play with. The GI,s would lose interest in them and just give things away. Playing War is always a favorite game for kids to play and after the war there was a lot of surplus such as leggings, cartridge and pistol belts, mess kits and helmets. Picture a bunch of little kids running around wearing this stuff.

German Helmet

There was a kid we use to play with that was given a German helmet by his uncle. I remember this uncle telling stories with battlefield bravado of how they got so use to the carnage that they could eat their rations sitting on the bodies of dead German soldiers. He said the helmet his nephew had came from one of them.

No kid was interested playing war as a German soldier. Someone had to do it and my turn came to wear that helmet. On my head it went. I was right away impressed with how comfortable it was compared to a GI helmet. The helmet was too big and I was going to adjust it to fit. But first this. It was in almost new looking condition. There where no dents or holes that you would expect to find in a battlefield relic.
All the decals were also in good shape and it had that dull black/grey finish

I turned it over to see how to adjust the head band. It had a leather chin strap and the interior webbing was of a russet leather as well. All the leather is clean and new looking.
Now the helmet is upside down as I am trying to figure out how to adjust this thing. On the bottom or top of the webbing is a soft leather pad about the size of a silver dollar. I am just fooling around and I turn over this pad and there is a gauze like material saturated with clotted blood that was as fresh looking as if it were there yesterday. I totally freaked out and threw the helmet on the ground. That was the end of my career as a German soldier.

I had to wash my hair that night several times to get that blood off or so I thought. I look back on that now and my heart breaks for the German soldier that gave up that helmet so we could play war.

My next little story will be titled "Son,war is not fun". Stay tuned

Sam

Diablo310th
12-19-2005, 08:11 PM
I jsut found out a couple weeks ago that my step grandfather was a B-29 pilot but never made it to the war before it ended. I never knew it all these years till my grandmother died.

Punkfriday
12-20-2005, 08:15 AM
Are there C47s in il2/fb/aep/pf? YES. the C47, L2D(right?)and armed dakota (Li2 ?). i get them mixed up.

My great-grandfather came over from england either during or after WWI and was a coal miner.

My grandfather flew C47s in WW2 over europe, he dropped paratroopers in operation market garden. he went career and after the war was based on clark field, where my dad spent a couple of years growing up. he later went on to fly B47s (stratojet?) and carry nukes for SAC. he stayed in for 20+ years then retired.

My dad ended up getting drafted for Vietnam. he was in a light infantry brigade in Americal division, for recon. he spent several months hopping around the jungle and the rest of the time he spent 7 or so months on FSB West, one of the most far-out Firebases there were.

both of them survived, and now we all live in Arkansas.

I don't get many stories out of 'em, but you know how it is.

[I know it is not military, but I was in the Coast Guard Aux., and I am an Eagle Scout]http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif

FI_Macca44
12-21-2005, 06:00 AM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by John_Stag:
I'm a bit after both, but my dad...

This is as much as I can remember of his stories, good and bad.

He joined a Polish Cavalry Regiment underage. Survived his unit being destroyed because he was a messenger. After Poland surrendered to Germany... </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Poland didn't surrender to Germany.

Sambt
01-01-2006, 12:37 PM
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Sambt:
Memories of a kid during WW2

For the War effort

My first attempt at saving Western Civilization from the Nazi menace was not successful. I had asked my mother to give me one of the empty vegetable cans left over from a meal without telling her what I was going to do with it. It was going to school with me the next day and given as scrap for the war effort. Most kids would bring something to school, like either tin foil or a squashed can. This stuff was collected by the teachers and deposited in containers for pickup and we were encouraged to continue to do this.

I just brought a can into school to help win the war. I did not know you had to prepare the thing in a certain way. This first can I brought in still had the residue of whatever vegetable was in it. Besides that it had been opened with a can opener that left a jagged edge on the top of the can and that was not an acceptable way to bring cans in.

Now this teacher, bless her heart, graciously took the time to thank me for my patiotism and proceeded to demonstrate to the class the proper way to prepare cans at home. First off you had to wash the thing. Then you were to cut both ends out with a proper can opener so as not to have jagged edges. Besides it was alot easier to crush them with both ends out. I told my mother about all this when I got home and she went out that very day to buy the can opener that would do the job correctly.

More stuff for the War effort

On the street where we lived in Baltimore was a huge pile of scrap off to one side to allow for traffic flow, where people would throw unwanted metal objects to be used as scrap to help build planes and tanks. There was a lot of junk in that pile. I later saw an Army truck drive up with a couple of unfortunate GI's who had to shovel all that stuff into that truck. Now, I cannot recall if another scrap pile was started after this one was taken away.

Rubber for jeeps and planes

There also was a rubber collection pile located in this large garage complex close to where I lived. The War effort needed rubber to roll those planes and trucks and I was going to see what I could do to help. I found this neat tire sitting in the backyard doing no one any good. I decided to send this tire to war. As I recall it was in good shape and could be used as is.

I roll this thing down to the garage with some effort as it is as big as me. I announce to the attendants what my intentions are and I saw their faces light up with smiles. One guy comes over and kneels down and places a hand on my shoulder and says,"Are you sure you want to give this tire so our soldiers can fight and win this War"? "Yes"., I said.

It was almost impossible to buy tires for your car during War time. It was considered unpatriotic to even want to as it took away from the War effort. People were putting their cars up on blocks for the duration of the War to keep from having to buy tires even if they were available. It is a great wonder to me why my old man didn't kick the **** out of me for giving away one of his hoarded tires. You threw tires away back then only when you could throw a cat through the hole. I believe my father was probably proud of me even tho it cost him a tire. I don't remember ever being punished and I recall him telling the tire story with a chuckle.

This is just a little tidbit from the War years. It is strange how one memory will trigger another. While telling this story it brings up something related in away so as to jolt your brain for more. The well has not run dry yet. This thread was idle for awhile. I was doing an upgrade and became a little lazy to post. If there is still an interest in some of these little stories I will continue. The next post will be about women so stay tuned.

So let me know if I am boring you.

Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

Women during War time

This little story was inspired by the previous one about the giving of my father's tire for the War effort. My old man was telling a GI this act of patriotism on my part while we were on a trip to visit relatives. He had enough stamps to buy gas and he was going to use it. Now this is how women get into this picture.

Lonely hearts

My dad and I were headed for the ferry off Annapolis Maryland. This was before the Chesapeake Bay Bridge was built of course and the ferry connected the Eastern Shore of Maryland with the Western Shore. My father taught me to identify old cars as a sort of game. A '41 Chevy passed us at a high rate of speed with a blond behind the wheel. Now my old man was not going to let a car pass him especially if it was hauling a good looking blond.

He proceeds to play catchup under the pretence of getting a closer look at that '41 Chevy. We make it onto the ferry and go up to the upper deck for refreshments and to enjoy the trip across the Bay. It takes about 30 minutes are so to cross. My old man is still interested in the occupant of that Chevy. I'm thinking his interest in cars is getting out of hand and I am going to tell my mother on him. He bribes me with a hotdog and chocolate milk as it is my favorite and blows the plan to tell up.

He finds out the story on the blond from the GI he is telling about the tire I gave away. So this is how you remember things and one memory leads to another. This lady had no interest in my old man. She wanted to go South.

Lonely Hearts One

Here is the story of the blond in the '41 Chevy as best I can remember it. She was talking to a few people on the ferry along with the GI aswell. She had just gotten word that her husband a Naval officer, and his ship was due into Norfolk Naval Base. His ship was to be there a very short time. She was going to meet him and spend as much time with him as possible. She stated she was willing to pay every speeding ticket she got in order to be with her husband if only for a night.

My father lost interest in the Chevy after hearing this. We made it across the Bay and jumped into our car to continue our trip. The last time we saw the blond she was headed South toward Norfolk as fast as that '41 Chevy would take her. If she would have missed getting on the ferry when we first saw her she would have had an hour delay waiting for the ferry to return. Time was very important to her.

If I could see her today and she was the same age as she was then I believe I would recognize her. Very strange indeed. BTW, for all you guys reading this, she was very pretty.

Lonely Hearts Two

Rita was my cousin and the first women I ever fell in love with. Her husband's name was Reginald and he was serving in the PTO as a combat infantymen. He was in a lot of stuff. His letters home were a source of combat news for our family. I did not Know him then as he and Rita were just Married before he shipped out.

I was too young to retain much of what he wrote about. However I do remember two things that were discussed among the family that he said in one of his letters home. He talked about being some place without water and the only water source was a "small pond with a dead Jap in it". He also mention about a wounded Japanese soldier in a field hospital eating a thermometer to try and commit hari kari.


Picture this in your mind for a moment. Here Reginald is laying in some damp chilly jungle at night with a cold M-1 rifle in his arms hoping that someone dos not have his wife Rita back home in the same position. Now I am going to say this, to coin a modern phrase, Rita was jaw dropping Hot. It must have been something almost unbearable to think about.

While he was maybe thinking of her, she was having thoughts of her own. We were driving around one day with Rita at the wheel and she was having a bad day. She is very sad and starts to rant about the War and how lonely she is. I do not remember all that was said in the car that day but I do recall this being said. " Rita you must wait for Reginald to come home". Rita said,"I know". And she did wait. Reginald survived the war and came home and they were together until he was killed later fighting a fire. After surviving all that combat in the Pacific what a waste.

Rita was killed herself in a car accident a few years ago. She remained attractive even in her latter years. Good looks run in my family. So, I hope that some of you reading this little side bar enjoyed a change from combat stories for a while.

I don't know what memory will pop up next. Someone had better tell me I am not boring you.

Stay tuned Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

I have a couple of questions and I am hoping that someone reading these little stories can help me. While posting the memory about the lady on the ferry it reminded me of a book that I saw advertized somewhere and I cannot remember where I saw it or when. It was after the war and could have been in the late fifties or perhaps the early sixties I am just not sure. This book was written by a German U-Boat Captain and the title was "I sailed up the Chesapeake Bay". My first question is, has anyone here heard of such a book and if so, where can I get it?

If this feat was true then the U-boat commander that pulled it off had some really big ones made out of solid brass. He also had brains and good sense to match. If he had taken it upon himself to have sunk the Navel Academy off Annapolis there is no way he could have gotten back out of the Bay into open water in one piece. It is kind of unsetteling to look back and to think that the ferry I was on could have been in the sight reticle of an U-Boat periscope.

Question number two is this. How do I get a photo into a post? Do I have to buy special componants or can I have someone who has the gear do it for me as a link maybe? My reason is this. For those of you who are reading my stuff, go back to the memory "Prisoners of War" where I mentioned Ann's uncle. He was a waist gunner on a B-17 that was KIA on a bomb run. I said in that post that the waist gunner was "another story and a good one". So if there is an interest I would like to put a face on that story. I am trying to do a little more research as to what bomb group he was in and the target on the day he was KIA. Some heroic stuff I'm telling ya right now.

Speaking of heroics let me share this while I am in this post. I was in the army back in the fifties. I was Airborne and in the first Special Forces unit that was formed in the states. Col.Raft, a famous 82nd Abn. commander was instrumental in it's creation. Now at that time most of my C.O.'s first sgts. team leaders etc. were WW2 vets. I recently read somewhere how hard it was for some vets to adjust to normalcy after being in war. There were some who had trouble adjusting without war. This is about two WW2 vets I knew.

Band of Brothers

82nd Airborne

Sgt.Smitty was a character. He knew "Dutch"Shultz, the guy that was caught on the steeple in Ste Mere Eglise that was made famous in the movie "The longest Day". Smitty was talkative and expressed himself in a jocular manner. I never heard him brag on himself. He had as many combat jumps as I had jumps at that time. He was not afraid to express an opinion and give someone what they deserved. We were on a truck going to training one day and Smitty heard someone in our unit from Europe *****ing about the army and the USA. In no uncertain terms Smitty jumps into the session by telling him if he did not like where he was to get the hell out as there were plenty in Europe right now that would glady trade places with him.

Now here is something about Smitty that would give you chills and I was not the only one to feel this way. He at that time said he was an atheist. We would be up in one of those miserable C=119,s waiting to make a jump and Smitty would start to rant against God. "There is no God, and if there is I ask Him to strike this plane with lightning to prove himself". Here we are all chuted up praying there is a God to help us get out of a C-119 one more time.

Our C.O.,who was on the jump with us, was a Major and as a young Lt. went
ashore with the Rangers at Point du Hoc. He did not share Smitty's religous views and told him to shut up.

Smitty made the drop into Normandy. He was a real warrior. He said his great desire was to move on to Berlin and find Axis Sally and rape her ***. He also had one other great ambition. "I want there to be another war as I want to win the Congressional Medal of Honor or die trying".

101st Airborne

Sgt. Jake was not my idea of what a hero was to look like. Let me first describe for you what his left chest looked like while in uniform. Master jump wings with several combat jumps. Combat Infantry Badge with Star. I am just going to describe the first row of ribbons as there is no need to go any farther. Congressional Medal of Honor, Distinguised Service Cross,and Silver Star. Jake was a Master Sgt. and had also received a battlefield commission during the War. I think he went up to captain. After the war he elected to stay in after the cutback to enlisted grade.

Now Jake had a problem. I saw him knee walking gutter drunk in uniform with all that salad (Ribbons) on his chest and it was not a pretty sight. Here was a guy that was decorated probably just a little behind Audie Murhpy as far as medals go. I did not know him personaly but he was a sweet heart of a man. He would come in sometime to report for duty to loaded to perform that duty. All the officers along with the Sgts. would hid Jake away somewhere to protect him. It was "But for the grace of God go I" Type of thing. I was too young and stupid at the time to know what I was looking at. I had this image of heroes and poor Jake did not fit it at that time. Now I am older and perhaps a little wiser and looking back to Jake all I can say now is "Thankyou Jake". I never saw what you saw. I was not where you have been and do not know what you have experienced. I do not know what happened to Jake. I hope he made it as he is one of my heroes.

The moral of this for me is don't be to quick to pass judgment on what may later kick you in the ***. Just two guys from an era that was tough. They did what they had to do I guess and tried to handle it the best they could after it was over. It was a mess for sure.

More? Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

Bicycles

How many here remember their first bike? Probably most of us. During the War you could not buy bicycles because all the shops were manufacturing war goods. If a kid got a bike at all it was either handed down or bought used. I wanted a bike and this is how my father found one.

I was living with my Grandparents on the lower Eastern Shore of Maryland at this time and my father located a small two wheeler that a bigger kid had out grown. This bike was located near to where we lived. Seems simple enough to just go and buy the thing but there is a catch. It is impossible for the father of the big kid to find a bike for his son so he makes a deal with my dad. "You find a big bike for my son and then we will trade", he said.

Gold Star

My Parents come down from Baltimore one weekend and tide on the back of his '39 Dodge was the biggest most beautiful bicycle you could imagine. It looked brand new. He took it over to trade for that little bike. I see the small bike for the first time when he brings it home to me. It is a faded red and looks used but right at that moment it looks better to me then that big bike because this one is mine.

This is how my father found a bike to trade. It belonged to a young man that was KIA in the War. His family, because of grief, wanted to get rid of the reminders of their boy. They apparently could not stand to see that bicycle. I remember my Parents talking about the Gold Star in the window of that home. A gold star indicated that in that household a loved one had given his life in the service of his country.

Well, that is how I got my first bike and I will always remember it.

Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

Souvenirs

As a kid growing up during WW2 there were times when you got to touch things sent home as souvenirs. There was a package sent home by a cousin and I had an opportunity to see as it was opened.

I was with my Grandpa and he came home and wanted to know if I wanted to see this package that his nephew had sent to his family that live just next door. This cousin was in the ETO and we knew it was German stuff. Off we went to see what it was.

German stuff

When we got to the house it was packed with relatives that was as curious as I was as to the contents of that package. The first thing that came out was this Mauser rifle in perfect shape. I heard an uncle exclaim, "I bet this rifle has killed many of our boys". There were knives, a German uniform, and other things that I now cannot remember. The thing that I remember the most was this German Parachute. They took this thing outside in the wind and when it inflated I thought it was a most impressive sight. It was a camouflage color and appeared to be in new condition. I don't know what became of that stuff as I never got to play with any of it. It was sure a thrill for a little kid to see and I guess that was enough.

More German stuff

After the war, relics would show up as toys for kids to play with. The GI,s would lose interest in them and just give things away. Playing War is always a favorite game for kids to play and after the war there was a lot of surplus such as leggings, cartridge and pistol belts, mess kits and helmets. Picture a bunch of little kids running around wearing this stuff.

German Helmet

There was a kid we use to play with that was given a German helmet by his uncle. I remember this uncle telling stories with battlefield bravado of how they got so use to the carnage that they could eat their rations sitting on the bodies of dead German soldiers. He said the helmet his nephew had came from one of them.

No kid was interested playing war as a German soldier. Someone had to do it and my turn came to wear that helmet. On my head it went. I was right away impressed with how comfortable it was compared to a GI helmet. The helmet was too big and I was going to adjust it to fit. But first this. It was in almost new looking condition. There where no dents or holes that you would expect to find in a battlefield relic.
All the decals were also in good shape and it had that dull black/grey finish

I turned it over to see how to adjust the head band. It had a leather chin strap and the interior webbing was of a russet leather as well. All the leather is clean and new looking.
Now the helmet is upside down as I am trying to figure out how to adjust this thing. On the bottom or top of the webbing is a soft leather pad about the size of a silver dollar. I am just fooling around and I turn over this pad and there is a gauze like material saturated with clotted blood that was as fresh looking as if it were there yesterday. I totally freaked out and threw the helmet on the ground. That was the end of my career as a German soldier.

I had to wash my hair that night several times to get that blood off or so I thought. I look back on that now and my heart breaks for the German soldier that gave up that helmet so we could play war.

My next little story will be titled "Son,war is not fun". Stay tuned

Sam </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Memories of a kid during WW2

"Son, war is not fun".

In this little tid bit from the war years I would like to convey a feeling or set a scene so to speak, of a few things I remember about the guys returning from war.

Coming Home

In this little town near where I lived was a resturant that sold beer or maybe it was a bar that sold food it is hard to say. At any rate it was a meeting place and at the time it would be packed on the weekends with service men returning from the war.

There were soldiers and sailors just about every week here headed for their homes. I am going to share what I saw and heard one of those weekends. Memories stand out because of certain things that happen. On this occasion my cousin that sent the package of souvenirs mentioned in the above story was home from the war.

All returning GI,s would be in uniform with all ribbons proudly displayed for all to see. Those ribbons were saying, look where I have been and what I have seen. My mother was sitting with our cousin listening to his war stories. He was in the medical corps and drove the first ambulance over the Remagen Bridge into Germany.

He was telling my mom the story of the only German he felt sorry for. It was a stuka pilot loaded with bombs flying so slow and was such an easy target they knew he was going to die. He was trying to bomb the Remagen bridge and of course was blown out of the sky.

On this particular weekend I was wearing a real Navy uniform cut down by my Grandma. It was given to me by a cousin serving on a destroyer. I was a big hit with all the sailors and they loaded me up with pop and other goodies. They marveled at the good job my Grandma did on that uniform.

Now I am going to try and set this scenario. In hush tones the talk is about this GI with one leg. "What happen to him? Stepped on a land mine", says another. This guy is standing by the counter. Picture this. He is in uniform, on crutches with a beer in one hand and a local hottie on the other arm trying to dance to "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B". This guy is tall with red hair and has an Irish grin from ear to ear. The atmosphere is one of, I am glad to be home.

At the end of the war jobs were hard to come by and returning servicemen took what they could get. My cousin Billy worked with his Dad on a commercial boat. When you talked about Billy his claim to fame was this. He went ashore in the first wave at Iwo Jima and survived the battle without getting so much as a scratch. Or the ex-marine driving a bread truck that told me he had two canteens shot off on Iwo.

Son,war is not fun

This ex GI was delivering bread to a local store and was telling war stories to eager listeners of which I was one. He was trying to convey what it was like being on the receiving end of an artillery barrage. He went on to say that after it would be over you went out to Collect the dead and wounded. He was at an aid station when someone brought in the remains of a soldier in a Wriggleys Chewing Gum box because that is all they found.

I happened to see this story teller outside before he left. I say to him that I hope there is another war. I will never forget this. He ask me why I wanted to see another war. "So I can get in it", I said. His reply to me was this. "Son, war is not fun".

Just a few little stories from a time long, long, ago. I have maybe one more post I am thinking about. It is at the end of the war and concerns somethings I saw. I have a good story on the B-17 waist gunner I talked about earlier and it will be long and detailed and I have to figure out how to do it. I have a few pictures I would like to post with the story and I have to learn how to do this.

Happy New Year

Sam

sakai2005
01-01-2006, 02:55 PM
my fathers uncle told me once a long time ago about when he was shipped out to europe on the queen mary i think or one of those big coverted liners.told me that two men fell to there death from there bunks during the trip over.said the bunks were very high and the men very sea sick.

when i asked my father where he fought i was told in the forest for along time.i never asked agian.