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George Adams
George Adams was my Grandfather on my Mothers side. This was written by his cousin around July 2001 and distributed to my family. It was type written and I asked my receptionist to type it into word.
I thought you might enjoy it from a historical point of view. He never spoke of WWII and this is the most info I ever heard about it and my grandfather. Its very long and you may not want to read it, I found the information about the battles in Germany fascinating but then again this was my grandfather, others may not feel this way. ____________________________ GEORGE ADAMS Born 1916 Died: 5/9/2001 George was born in Rockland Lake, New York. His parents were John Adams and Anna Adams, who both emigrated from Hungary. He had two older sisters, Elizabeth and Mary, and a brother, who died in the flu epidemic of 1918. I don’t know much about George’s childhood. I know his mother became ill. I think she had cancer. My mother and father (Tom and Elizabeth McKeon) took an apartment in Rockland Lake. My father commuted to New York and my mother took care of his mother until she died. After she died, George was only about 10 years old, and my mother started to take care of him. At some point, my parents bought their house in Orangeburgh, New York, which was closer to my dad’s work in New York City. George and his father John moved to Orangeburgh with my parents, and they all lived together from then on. George became more like a brother to us (Jack, Tom, George (me), and Jimmy), than an uncle. My mother really became, to some extent, George’s mother, also. George use to talk to me about the good times he had with my father, Tom, hiking and swimming in Rockland Lake and Orangeburgh. In Orangeburgh, George went to school and ultimately graduated from Congers High School, where Orangeburgh students went to High School. I think George was a pretty good student and I know he played some sports, like Hockey. He was a kid in the Depression and no on had any money. While he was in school, he had odd jobs, like caddying at Blue Hills Golf Club, near our house in Orangeburgh. He became very handy with mechanical things and I know that for a time, during High School and full time after he graduated, he worked at Hoffman’s Shell Station on Rt. 303 in Orangeburgh. George liked cars and I think he had a Ford Roadster with a rumble seat for a while and then a 1936 Plymouth, which I think was almost new when he bought it. The car was his pride and joy, and he washed and polished it often. While he was growing up, my family visited quite a bit with my father’s sister and her family, who lived in Brooklyn. My father’s niece was a beautiful girl, and as she got older, George and Rita got interested in each other, and when George went off to war, she waited until he returned and they married in the Spring of 1946. George and Rita’s kids were my 1st and 2nd cousins. Rita was my 1st cousin, because she was my father’s niece, and my aunt, because she became my Uncle George’s wife. It’s tuff to figure out, but it works if you think about it. George went to Cooper Union Business School in New York City at night. The U.S. was not in the war in early 1941, but it was an ominous time and we were clearly drifting toward war. The Selective Service Act was passed by one vote in Congress in 1940, and in late 1940, George was drafted “to build an army that would help us avoid war”, President Roosevelt said. George went into the army in January of 1941 and went to Fort Bragg in Fayetteville, North Carolina, for Basic Training. |
During Basic Training, he was preparing to be an Army Ranger, which are the soldiers that go before the main units in battle, usually. He learned to dismantle live land mines, and later in the war, his unit saved many lives, by being able to detect and dismantle such devices.
George’s army career brought him into almost every phase of the Second World War against Germany. While in Basic Training, he became attached to the 9th Infantry Division. The 9th had a lot of charismatic leaders. One General designed a helmet logo for his troops that resembled the cattle branding logo used on his family’s cattle ranch in Texas. It was and it means, “anything, anytime, anyplace-Bar-nothing”. AAAO. It became known world wide as it was seen on the 9th’s soldiers as they advanced across Europe. While at Fort Bragg, the 9th was addressed by the now famous General George Patton, who was destined to lead the 9th to many victories in the years ahead. George was there when Patton gave the now famous speech to the new recruits in which he said, “If you’re in my outfit, you’ll see action, but at the end of the war, when they ask you what you did, you’ll be proud to answer and you won’t have to say well all I did was shovel ***** in North Carolina”. He also said, “I don’t want you to die for you country. I want you to make Germans die for their country”. Many of the men George trained with at Fort Bragg stayed together through the whole war and many of them did not come back. In December, 1941, Japan bombed Pearl Harbor and Germany declared war on the United States. All of Europe, but England, had already fallen to the Germans. George was in the first group of trained men ready for the war. In early 1942, the 9th was in a troop convoy going to England. From England, the convoy sailed to the West Coast of Africa, through the German submarine infested Atlantic. The convoys were being protected by the navy, and my brother Jack was in a destroyer escort (sub chaser), protecting the Atlantic convoys at the same time that George was in one of those convoys going to Africa. Western Africa as a French Colony, and the French were now conquered by the Germans and allied them. The French were Defending Casablanca and Tunisia, when the Americans landed. The French put up a “Token Resistance”, but then surrendered and became allied with the Americans. After the landing, George was moved from the Rangers to a group that maintained the military equipment, trucks, tanks, etc. He headed such a unit until the end of the war. In Africa, the sand created havoc with the motorized vehicles, and they needed people who understood and could keep the equipment going more than they needed Rangers. After the landings, the Germans moved from the Easter part of Africa, to engage the Americans and the fighting became very intensive. The Americans incurred many casualties and at the Battle of the Caserine Pass, the 9th sustained very heavy casualties. George lost one of his closest friends there. Gradually, however, Patton begun to get the upper hand over General Romel and the Germans, and pushed East. The English under Montgomery, who were in Egypt, won a major battle at El Alamein and started pushing West to link up with Patton. There were sill major battles fought in Africa, such as Tobruk, but gradually the Germans army under Romel were defeated, and many Germans surrendered. By September of 1943, Africa was in the hands of the allies, and the 9th (and George) was preparing to leave Africa and land in Sicily, a large island off the southern end of Italy. The landings in Sicily were more difficult, with the Germans basically taking over the war from the Italians, and fighting very intensively. The 9th, under Patton, and the English forces, under Montgomery, ultimately took Sicily, with Patton, the 9th, and the Americans leading and winning the major part of the battles. George passed through the town in Sicily where Rita’s ( his wife to be) father was born. It was in Sicily where Patton slapped a wounded American soldier, who he accused of being coward. The outcry at home was incredible, and Patton was removed from the Front and sent to England to help prepare for “D-Day”. The Americans and English invaded Italy, but the 9th Infantry Division, and George, were sent instead to England to prepare for the “D-Day” invasion of Normandy, in France. George spent time training in England and did a little traveling. I think he got to London once and he told me about visiting old English castles and the English countryside. Finally, the invasion came. It was June 6, 1944. The Americans landed at Omaha Beach and Utah Beach, in Normandy, and the English landed at the other beaches in the Normandy area. It was the largest amphibious invasion in the history of the world. George landed at Utah, which was “bad”, but not quite as bad as Omaha. From Utah Beach, the 9th fought it way West to the Cherbourg Peninsula, and ultimately took Cherbourg, which was a major deep water sea port. George remembers that in Cherbourg, some of the German units fought quite frantically and had to be driven out of the city house by house. Now the beachhead was secure from Cherbourg to Caen, but the English, under Montgomery, could not tak e Caen, which was the main park of the allied battle plan. Along the whole beachhead front, the Germans had dug in behind 100 year old growths of Hedge Rows and the fighting was fierce, with the 9th, again, taking many casualties. George lost several close friends here. There was a fear that the allies were bogged down and would be stuck in North Western France for a long time. By September of 1944, Patton convinced Eisenhower to allow him to return to the Front and head the 9th again. In September, the 9th under Patton broke the German lines and went down the South Coast of France. “The Great Breakout” was under way, and the 9th (and George) liberated many French towns. He sent my mother a scarf with the 9th insignia and a list of all the towns liberated (Vendome, Nantes, and many others). George’s unit visited the Great Cathedral at Nantes, which was totally bombed out on the inside, but the outside structure remained. I visited the Cathedral in the 1980’s and it was still heavily damaged even then. George remembers going to mass in the bombed-out cathedral when he was there. The 9th then turned East and headed across France to Paris. The 9th started toward Caen from its rear and Montgomery finally broke out of the Caen line, took the city and headed North toward the low countries, Belgium, Netherlands, etc., where the English got bogged down again. (A good book about this in Cornelius Ryans “A Bridge To Far”) The German Casualties were enormous, especially at the Battle of Falaise Gap, Northwest France. Finally the allied armies were at the gates of Paris. Eisenhower decided to let the “Free French” under Charles DeGaule, liberate Paris. This angered George and many of the Americans, because the French hadn’t done any of the fighting for France, but were given the honor of taking Paris, which the Germans surrendered rather that having it destroyed. The French “underground”, which fought all through the war against the Germans, were in fact helpful to the allied cause, but General DeGaule and French army had little to do with that. |
George visited Paris once and went to the Folleys-Breagere. The price of admission was a pack of cigarettes. By December, 1944, the 9th (and George) was at the German Border, near the Rhine, in the Ardennes Forest in Belgium. It was thought by many that Germany would surrender, and the war might be over by Christmas. But on December 16, 1944, the Germans counterattacked through the Ardennes Forest. The Germans had extremely large numbers of troops and equipment, much more power than anyone thought they had left. They drove a huge Bulge (Battle of the Bulge) in the American lines surrounding Bastogne, and drove almost to the Sea (Antwerp), where they would have split the American and English Front.
It turned out to be the biggest battle of the war with Americans dead, wounded, and captured running close to 100,000 men. It was the costliest battle that the United States had ever fought. Many of the Americans that were defending that line were new recruits who had never seen any action. George’s jeep was behind enemy lines and he was almost captured. His buddy was Jewish and was very worried about being captured by the Germans. At one point, an artillery explosion knocked George out of his jeep and he was unconscious and hurt his shoulder, but was not considered wounded. Eventually they made their way back to the American lines. Bastogne was a city in the middle of the bulge and it never fell. General McAuliffe defending the city, gave the now famous “NUTS” reply when the Germans demanded his surrender. George had a buddy from Fort Bragg days, who always worried about being killed. Everyone told him he wouldn’t be, but at Bastogne, be was absolutely convinced he would be killed. He had several close calls at Bastogne, but he survived. He also survived the war and returned to Long Island, where George met him years later. The buddy went on a tour of European Battle grounds on the 50th Anniversary of the end of the war and went to mass on Sunday in Bastogne. He received communion and on returning to his seat, collapsed of a heart attack and died. George never had any interest in returning to Europe. He told me that he always said that if he got home safely, he’d never leave the United States. I don’t think he ever did. He also told me that when he came home from the war in “on piece”, he vowed that he would count every day of his life as a “Bonus” or icing on the cake and would be thankful for having it. The Air Force and Army (the 9th) counterattacked and the German Bulge was broken. The Germans pushed back to their December 16th lines by early January, 1945. The German casualties were enormous and it was clear that Germany couldn’t fight on too much longer. Many of their generals wanted to surrender, especially to the Americans, rather than fight on and perhaps have to surrender to the Russians, who were coming from the East. Hitler would not surrender. The Americans were again on or near the Rhine, and the next step was to cross the Rhine into Germany. It was clear that the Germans intended to fight virtually to the last man. They did and there were continuing huge casualties on both sides. In January, 1945, the Germans began bombing all the bridges across the Rhine into Germany, in order to impede the allied invasion of the German homeland. One bridge, although heavily damaged, had not yet collapsed. It remained heavily defended by the Germans and they planted explosives under it on an almost daily basis. It was the Bridge at Remagen. Late in January, I believe it was, a unit of the 9th division reached the bridge and fought their way across. The 9th troops in the area were rallied and began crossing the bridge En Masse, George among them. A beachhead was established on the East side (German side of the Rhine). This of course was a major break through and from the beachhead, allied troops led by the 9th began pouring into Germany. George was billeted in a German farmhouse with other soldiers near the Town of Remagen. An old German couple who lived in the house stayed upstairs in what was like an attic. The soldiers invited them down to share their “K Rations” (The German people were starving at this time). The Germans ate and went to a closet and brought out a bottle of wine they were saving for their grandson’s return from the war. They had recently learned that he would not be coming back. The old woman said the war was not the people of Germany’s fault, but it was the fault of Germany’s leaders. She said “you Americans are nice boys, just like my grandson”. This woman remembered the Americans from the 1st World War, who crossed the same Remagen Beach in 1918. They also brought food. A few days after crossing, the Remagen Bridge collapsed. As the allies crossed Germany, some towns surrendered, but the people were afraid of the Americans, expecting to be killed by them. George told on story of a German kid who came out of hiding and accepted the K Rations they gave him. He kept coming back for food, so the soldiers gave his a case of K Rations to take home. It was about 24 cans of food. The boy’s mother, realizing the food was not poisoned, kept 3 cans for her family and distributed the rest to neighbors. At this time, German soldiers were beginning to surrender in small groups, but at the same time, some German soldiers, mostly young 15 and 16 year old boys, were so indoctrinated by Nazism, they would fight on fanatically from the basements, halls, and ruins of homes. Georges said they were quite dangerous. Sometimes, older German soldiers would come out and surrender and make arrangements to go back into their shelter and encourage the young zealots to come out before they were killed or before they killed more Americans. |
George had a fairly high respect for the German soldier, but there were beginning to be rumors of German atrocities against Americans, which turned out to be true. As the Americans advanced on German villages, the Americans’ supply of tank crews began to run out, because so many had been killed. At that time General Patton authorized the use of Black tank crews, which had formally not been used in combat, but only for backup. It was believed that the Black soldiers would not fare well in combat. Patton gave a stirring speech to the Black tankers, telling them how he had fought for their right to enter combat, and he knew they would make him proud (Actually, Patton, up until he ran out of White takers, did not want the Blacks in combat).
In any event, as the infantry units would approach a town, they would wait for the tank crews to come up and lead the way into the town (virtually blasting buildings, etc., out of their path). There has been a lot of controversy in recent years among Black Veterans, who say the major contribution was largely covered up but World War II historians. George always said he thought it was covered up, because he was an eye witness to these advancing Black tank crews, but in World War II history accounts, he never saw any reference to these units. I never did either, and I’ve read a lot about the war. George said as the Black troops would pass the waiting infantry, they would banter back and for the, with the Black troops yelling, “You White boys just sit there where it’s safe, and wait until we chase those Germans away”. On one very quiet Sunday, when George was off duty, his boss came in a said, “We need all the truck you can get together, were going into a “Detention Camp” that was just liberated from the Germans”. The said some of the prisoners were sick. George got about 30 trucks together and they went into what turned out to be a “Concentration Camp”. When they got to the gates they were met by British doctors, who told them what they were about to see was the most terrible site they had probably ever seen. They were instructed not to feed any of the survivors, because they were in such back shape, that even a little food could kill them. George never told me what he saw, but he said it was the most horrifying part of the war for him, and he wished he hadn’t been around that Sunday. He was always outraged at the Neo Nazi groups and Ku Klux Klan, in the United States, that said “there was no such things as these camps and they were fabricated by politicians to gain support for the new state of Israel”. After that, the war continued, and the 9th hooked up with the Russians, who had fought Germany from the East. George told many stories of transporting German prisoners back from their surrendering points. He said they were mostly polite, tired, and a little hungry, but really appreciated American cigarettes. One day, they were bringing an S.S. soldier back. The S.S. were the fanatical concentration camps administration, who were Hitler’s “Elite Corps”. The truck had to stop because of some obstacle in the road. George and his buddy got out of the truck and asked the prisoners to get out and help move the obstacle. The S.S. soldier would not get out, and said something in German about being an officer. When the S.S. man saw George’s buddy, he was wearing a Star of David chain around his neck, much like the Miraculous Medals of Mary, that Americans used to wear. The S.S. man, seeing the medal, spit in the American’s face. Soon after, Germany surrendered on May 6, 1945. Today, you would think that soldiers like George, who had been in combat since 1942, and in the army since 1941, would immediately be sent home. Instead, the units of the 9th and their leaders, General Patton and others, were preparing to leave for the Pacific and the Japanese home islands. In July, 1945, these units were actually moving toward Japan. Experts said a million Americans would be killed or wounded in the landing and conquest of Japan, and probably two to three times that number of Japanese would be killed or wounded. Then the Atomic Bomb was dropped in early August, 1945 on Hiroshima, killing 100,000 people. Two days later, another bomb was dropped on Nagasaki, killing 70,000 people. Miraculously, the war had be brought to an immediate end. The Japanese announced they would surrender, and did surrender in early September, 1945. George had enough “point” to fly home, instead of taking a ship. He was home by early August 1945, and discharged in September, 1945, I believe. In the service, he had achieved the rand of Warrant Officer, and was decorated in Germany (Bronze Star). George came home, and went to work on his car, which had sat in the garage for 5 years. (A 1936 Plymouth) I took the battery in my wagon down the street to the gas station to get it charged. George went back to work in Hoffman’s in Orangeburgh, then went to work in Stillman & Hoag, a Buick dealer in Englewood, New Jersey. He married his childhood sweetheart, Rita in April or May of 1946. They were a beautiful and handsome couple. He went to work for Inskip Motors in New York City, where Rits and George had their first apartment. Susan was born, and I think it was then, that they moved to Long Island. Then James, Tommy, and Lorraine were born. They had a nice house in Long Island, and at some point George and a co-worker (Larry Mahoney) bought the business they worked in. It became known as “Adams and Mahoney”. The business prospered, and George made some good money. The business was on E78th Street in New York City, and they specialized in British Sports Cars. Their clientele was fairly affluent, but George always said the cars were no good. I don’t think he ever owned anything but American cars. He drove his 1936 Plymouth well into the ‘50’s. His kids grew; Susan was his princess, James, his athlete and Tommy, his mechanic. Lorraine, his youngest, went to work in Morgan Stanley in New York City. He was very happy and proud of his kids and grandkids. I remember going to picnics out in Long Island, 1st Communions, Confirmations, Weddings, etc. We always had a good time. I didn’t see George as much as I’d like to, but we always kept in touch. When he retired, he and Rita moved further out on the Island to Islip, I think, and then to Ridge. They did some traveling after George retired, and I know they enjoyed that. When Rita got sick, George took care of her for as long as he could as home, and when the sad time came for her to go into a nursing home, he visited her everyday, and was with her until the very end, when his own failing health resulted in his death in May of 2001. He was buried in a beautiful mass and James, his oldest son, gave a beautiful eulogy, describing George as the simple, good-natured, loving father and husband that he was. He was buried in the very moving military ceremony in Calverton Veterans Cemetery in Long Island. James received the folded flag from the Military Honor Guard, who delivered in on behalf of the President of the United States. He said the President sent his “Thanks” to George’s family on behalf of a grateful nation. I have always been interested in George’s Army career, because he played such an important part in one of the major historical periods of all time. If we had not fought and won the war, I think the world would be a much frightfully different place today. If any of you who read this have other facts or write other things about George, I would appreciate a copy to go with the material I have already put together. If I were to write a eulogy for George I would say, Tom Brokaw of CNN has written a book called Greatest Generation, a book about the men and women who fought in the Second World War, and the debt of gratitude we owe them all. George was typical. They were a generation who served. For the most part, they were brought up poor during the Great Depression of the 1930’s. They had to work hard to help families and any luxuries that kids have, they, for the most part, had to get themselves out of their own money. They didn’t ask, or expect, much, and didn’t get much. When war came, they went willingly to help because they were needed. They knew they cause was right, and the enemy was clearly identified, and was clearly bad. They gave up many years to fight for their country, went through untold hardships and were wounded, maimed, and killed. When the war finally ended, they came home to a grateful nation, but they didn’t ask for any special treatment and really didn’t get much special treatment, other than what was the sincere thanks of their country. They got jobs, worked hard up through the ranks, and some, like George, achieved economic success and could make their families comfortable. George served his country, his customers, and his family. He never bragged. He didn’t think he had anything to brag about. One exception, he bragged about his wonderful kids and their achievements and his wonderful wife, Rita. When Rita got sick, he was disappointed. He wanted more time to do fun things with her, but he took up the burden of her illness, even though his own health failed, and made her as comfortable as he could, for as long as he could. He served until the end. He was truly one of the “greatest generation”, in fact, the was in the category of the greatest of the great generation. I am proud he was my uncle/brother, my godfather, and proud to have been named after him. I was called “Little George”. |
Thank you, that was very moving to me.
Not to hijack, but it is a car site after all. We restored a '36 Plymouth Sedan when I was a kid. Old guy we got it from was the original owner,sold us his '36 sedan, kept his '36 coupe. That was a damn fine car. 6 cylinder, radio, heater, doors that locked and would go close to 100 mph too. |
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His son (My moms brother) was repairing cars in the garage when he was 14 and making money off the neighbors eventually opening up his own shop when he was 18. I was more impressed with the fact he was one of the 1st to go inside a concentration camp, he was also involved in the storming of Sicily, Normany and the Battle of the bulge even the Battle of the Caserine Pass. How he lived through the war is amazing to me. |
The family I have that went to some of those same places would never talk about it either.
If I were there and some captured SS officer spit in my Jewish buddy's face, he might have a little trouble standing up straight after... I don't know how people deal with really horrific stuff. Some of the things my wife would tell me after doing a shift at the ER would make your hair stand on end, and it is nothing compared to what he must have seen. She always said she did not think about it until after, which I cannot imagine doing when you have a lady who has two broken hands and all the hair burned off her head holding a kid who is already dead because she could not break down the door fast enough to save him. |
My father was a Sonarman on a destroyer escort in WW2. I have a picture of the ship framed in my home. I have a framed picture of him as a young sailor, along with the medals he won and some information about his service to the Navy. I have his canvas sea bags, his uniform and the flag that covered his casket a few years ago when he passed away.
I want it known that I have the utmost respect for the men and women who chose to (or agreed to) put their lives on the line in service to America and its people and principles. But I also want to express another emotion here. Envy. I wish I had been there. I watched an old retired WW2 pilot interviewed once and when he was asked about the tragedy and loss of life and loss of friends and danger to himself in the context of "was it worth it?", he looked square at the interviewer and said "You've got to be kidding. I was a nineteen year-old young American male commanding the fastest and most potent fighter plane in the world and I was asked to shoot down America's enemies. I HAD THE TIME OF MY LIFE!" I'll bet. The saddest thing about these guys, service is that it ended and nothing else later in their lives came anywhere close to the FOCUS and the fidelity and the opportunity and the camaraderie and the self-awarness and the honor they had during that time. I truly, truly, wish I could have what they had. |
My grandfather was a cook on a navy ship. He met Ike and supposedly kicked him in the butt for some reason. He was nuts. He was also petrified of guns, and once was asked to watch some German POWs and handed a gun. Apparently, once the higher-up left, he gave the gun to one of the prisoners and told him to watch everyone.
Its my impression that by the late stages of the war, a German POW was happy to be captured. The part about the SS officer spitting on the Jewish American Officer reminds me that not ALL of them were just along for the ride- there were plenty of fanatics, and I bet they were mostly in the upper German Ranks, or (as written) the young kids. Man, it would be really hard to shoot a 12 year old. I understand your sentiments about wishing to have been a part of something great Supe, but I think for many soldiers there was a lot of horror that I'd just as soon do without. |
Superman, if you really want to, you could have something close to what I think you are seeking. You seem like a pretty passionate guy, find yourself a cause to put yourself behind, whatever moves you or speaks to you. You will find that there are other people with similar interests or goals. Putting together an organization that does some real good would be very rewarding to me, but I don't have the time. It is not the same thing as stopping an evil fascist empire from taking over the world, but it wouldn't bad. It is why I do the free screening clinics, do a little good, tune in a little positive karma, whatever you want to call it. I think every little good or bad thing you do can come back on you, not sure what you would call that.
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Having been very close to my grandfather I can give some observations from what I saw growing up across the street from him from 1969-1975 then we moved further out on the island. He eventually moved closer, across town, from 1979-1985 when we moved to Florida. He never followed because my moms (susan) other 3 siblings lived in NY.
My Grandfather never spoke of the war, even when asked he deflected the questions. I remember specifically asking him about Hitler when I was young (WWII covered in School) and he only said Hitler was an evil man that did evil things. After reading his story I understand the horror he witnessed. As I got older it perplexed me why a man involved in such a historical event would never discuss it. Things in this story that jumped out at me, some I never (well most, I mean historically) knew Quote:
I thought the Black Tank crews were interesting as well, especially from a 1st hand point of view. Quote:
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He was a true gentleman, he was the one responsible for teaching me how to swing a golf club, proper etiquette both as a man and at a dinner table. You know as I type this there I think there are 2 types of people in the world. Those that need to be in a large group of like minded people in order to feel self important and those who prefer to go it alone and blaze their own path. My grandfather was the later. He was not part of any elks clubs, moose lodges or VFW halls, he never partook in any ceremonies after the war the memorialize it. He did his own thing, he kept to himself minded his own business and lived his life to the fullest dealing with the hands he was delt. My grandmothers alzheimer's was a crushing blow to him, he ended up dying shortly after her, I am convinced it was of a broken heart. The man was doing 100 pushups and 100 situps every morning up until he was close to death. He wore the same size clothes his whole life. He was the epitome of health. After all he had been through my grandmothers ravaging death is what killed him. What breaks my heart is that I rarely saw him after the move to Florida, once I could afford to fly my family up we began seeing him every July, starting in 1999 in July 2001 I saw him for the last time weeks before his death. He seemed to be healthy as an ox when I saw him. |
Jim, I have had a large number of older patients and can tell you it is very common for husband and wife to pass away within a week or two of one another. Not so odd if you think about it. You live 90 years, spend 70 with the same person. Would be like losing an arm, or your head.
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Thanks for sharing that great story Jim.
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Great story!! I never have a problem getting WWII vets to talk about the great war.
Patton was the man!! General George S. Patton, Jr. 3rd Army Speech - England. 31 MAY 1944 - 6th Armored Division Now I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. You won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country. Men, all this stuff you've heard about America not wanting to fight, wanting to stay out of the war, is a lot of horse dung. Americans traditionally love to fight. All real Americans, love the sting of battle. When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble shooter, the fastest runner, the big league ball players, the toughest boxers ... Americans love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Americans play to win all the time. I wouldn't give a hoot in Hell for a man who lost and laughed. That's why Americans have never lost and will never lose a war. Because the very thought of losing is hateful to Americans. Now, an army is a team. It lives, eats, sleeps, fights as a team. This individuality stuff is a bunch of crap. The Bilious bastards who wrote that stuff about individuality for the Saturday Evening Post, don't know anything more about real battle than they do about fornicating. Now we have the finest food and equipment, the best spirit, and the best men in the world. You know ... My God, I actually pity those poor bastards we're going up against. My God, I do. We're not just going to shoot the bastards, we're going to cut out their living guts and use them to grease the treads of our tanks. We're going to murder those lousy Hun bastards by the bushel. Now some of you boys, I know, are wondering whether or not you'll chicken out under fire. Don't worry about it. I can assure you that you'll all do your duty. The Nazis are the enemy. Wade into them. Spill their blood, shoot them in the belly. When you put your hand into a bunch of goo, that a moment before was your best friends face, you'll know what to do. Now there's another thing I want you to remember. I don't want to get any messages saying that we are holding our position. We're not holding anything, we'll let the Hun do that. We are advancing constantly, and we're not interested in holding onto anything except the enemy. We're going to hold onto him by the nose, and we're going to kick him in the ass. We're going to kick the hell out of him all the time, and we're going to go through him like crap through a goose. Now, there's one thing that you men will be able to say when you get back home, and you may thank God for it. Thirty years from now when you're sitting around your fireside with your grandson on your knee, and he asks you, What did you do in the great World War Two? You won't have to say, Well, I shoveled **** in Louisiana. Alright now, you sons of *****es, you know how I feel. I will be proud to lead you wonderful guys into battle anytime, anywhere. That's all. |
That speech makes me want to go out and kick some ass!
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That Jim, is quite a grandfather. Thanks for sharing.
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Thanks Jim;
Reading the account, it appears that the your Grandfather and my Dad were in different areas of the front. The 9th was attached to the 1st US Army, while the 374 FA Bn was attached to Patton's 3rd Army. The 1st Army was generally immediately to the north of the 3rd Army while my Dad's unit was a "Front Line" unit. I say "Front Line" in quotes since the 155 mm Long Tom guns could fire 16 miles, and so they didn't need to be within sight of the enemy to be engaged. I suspect that they saw far more Germans (as PW's) during the French Campaign while they were doing MP duty and guarding PW pens. During the battle of the bulge, he was assigned to guarding a bridge or intersection near the boarder of France and Luxumbourg (the southern flank of the battle). Other guys in his unit were transferred to 26th and the 95th Infantry divisions to serve as infantry since they didn't receive their 155's until early spring 1945. Here's a few more pictures from my Dad's collection related to this thread. http://forums.pelicanparts.com/uploa...1202668916.jpg A picture from Buchenwald. http://forums.pelicanparts.com/uploa...1202669003.jpg The infantry marching through town (most likely from the 5th, 76th or 90th Infantry divisions) http://forums.pelicanparts.com/uploa...1202669544.jpg More infantry advancing... (after posting, I just noticed that this picture was taken within a few minutes of the first picture above) http://forums.pelicanparts.com/uploa...1202669443.jpg Even in the mechanized 2nd World War, much of the infantry movement was still done the old fashioned way. Walking http://forums.pelicanparts.com/uploa...1202669612.jpg Judging from the geography, I suspect that this is observing across the Mosel river. http://forums.pelicanparts.com/uploa...1202669750.jpg Chasing the front lines, most likely somewhere in Germany http://forums.pelicanparts.com/uploa...1202669679.jpg Sending another shell towards the Germans -- somewhere in Germany. Ironically, at the end of the War, his future father-in-law (an officer level Paymaster in the German Army) was most likely within cannon range of my Dad when he surrendered to the US Army. The two men ended up never meeting since my Mom's Dad was transfered back to the Russians and died in a Russian prison camp near Tablisi in 1947. |
First I have seen of this thread...thanks, Jim.
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My dad was in an engineer btn in the 90th division, I miss hearing his stories. He didn't go into much detail about the combat side but he had an uncanny memory about what he was doing in the in the towns and villages across europe.
He grew up in a small german community in Iowa, learned to speak german before he learned english. Being bi-lingual was useful in europe, it saved his life on one occasion. Many german pow's thought he must be a traitor, they didn't believe an American could speak it so well. Jim |
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