Italy: the Land of Mud, Mountains and Hospitality

The Salerno terrain.

As the days went by in Sicily, the rumor mill was running in overdrive. The latest rumor was that we were going to England to spearhead the crossing of the Channel. We were all excited about spending some time where the natives spoke English. All this changed when the 36th Division ran into trouble at Salerno on the Italian mainland. The damn Germans certainly clobbered this green outfit they really did a number on them as they had 600 killed and 2,000 wounded. On the fifth of September we boarded an L.S.T. and headed for Salerno. Being only a few hours away we were not long at sea. We offloaded on the September 8, 1943 on the beach in the Salerno area. Everything seemed under control and we camped near the beach while our recon outfit went forward to assess the situation. The following day I laid on my back most of the day and watched the air combat taking place at 20,000 feet above. The Germans were trying hard to get close enough to bomb our ships offshore.

I must have seen at least ten planes fall out of the sky and crash. Some were Spitfires and some were Messerschmitts, but it seemed like most were the English Spitfires that fell. The Navy's destroyers were laying down smoke screens all day to obscure the fleet but they were not firing any rounds to support the ground forces. Everything on the beachhead seemed to be under control but after five days of mauling by the Germans the 36th division needed replacements and training so the Third Division was ready to move ahead. We never saw the 36th Division again until they relieved our division about four days before thanksgiving in November 1943.

Salerno

The Third Division moved from the Salerno beachhead to make contact with the enemy late on the afternoon of September 10. I will never forget how as darkness came on we were going through a village where many of the buildings were still burning from recent combat. Silhouetted from one of the burning buildings there was a tall lanky soldier standing on the curb watching the troops and equipment pass through the town. He was not wearing a helmet as required. When we got closer to this figure Private "Lewie" Kottenbroch, one of the men in my platoon, yelled out, "Hey there soldier, where's your helmet?" As the figure turned to see who had yelled at him everyone could see the three stars reflecting the flames of the fires. Of course it was none other than General Mark Clark, commander of the Fifth Army of which we were now a part.

Private Kottenbroch didn't make another sound and as we trudged along everyone seemed to look the other way and tried to disassociate themselves from Lewie. We kidded Lewie about this incident for a long time afterwards.

We passed on through the village and into the mountains and contact with the enemy. The Germans were fighting a delaying action. Company C was leading and took care of the first roadblock and we pushed on. Late in the afternoon of the next day we dug in on the side of a hill. While I was still working on my slit trench, Allen Mabbutt came to me and asked if I knew a person by the name of Bob Herriott. I said, " Hell yes, I went to high school with him." Allen said, "well I'm going back to the beach to bring him up to Company B. He is a second Lieutenant and he is taking over a platoon."

The following day I went to see Bob and I met up with him at least two or three times a week after that. After the war was over I went to see Bob at his home in Everett, Washington and oddly, he denied ever being in the Third Division yet his name is listed in the division history.

Herriot remained with us until we got to Mount Lungo, which was about 80 days, when he contacted hepatitis and went to the hospital never to return. Next, the Third Division headed up the Italian boot toward the Volturno River. One day about the September 20, we were peacefully hiking along a country highway, a two-lane hard-surfaced road. I was admiring the beautiful Italian countryside when I saw a muzzle flash, out of the corner of my eye. I hit the ditch on the side of the road and the shell hit the the bank right above me just like in Sicily only this time it was closer.

One soldier in front of me was hit by shell fragments as well as two soldiers behind me. I got the heck out of the area as fast as I could run. I ran 200 yards to some cover around a corner in the road. I felt cheap about leaving the wounded behind but the medics were there only a minute later. Also I was a little shook up because the 88mm shell was closer to me than anyone else it exploded only three feet above me.

That night it started to rain so I took my raincoat out of my pack and put it on but I got soaked anyway. The following morning I took it off and held it up to the light only to find that it had about 50 holes in it. Then I examined my pack and found that it was also riddled with holes from the close call the day before. We kept pressing on and in the afternoon it rained again. My perforated raincoat was better than nothing. But many men didn't have any rain gear and got soaked to the skin.

My squad found a large culvert that ran under the road to take shelter in. A platoon in C Company was occupying a house only about 100 yards away. Many of the men that were wet from the rain burrowed into a haystack that was near the house. This proved tragic as a shell from harassing fire hit right in the center of the haystack. It killed 19 men with one 88mm round. If the Germans had only known they would have celebrated all night. To us it was demoralizing and sickening to the mind but it was something we were going to have to get used to.

Later that same afternoon I was just gazing off into the valley where B Company was dug in along the road when all of a sudden the Krauts opened up with a barrage. The shells exploded down the road like they were coming from a giant machinegun. It was very impressive to watch but not very good for my morale. I couldn't believe what I saw and I never saw it happen again during the war. In any case it gave me something to worry about for a while.

About a week later, around the October 10, the First Battalion was in reserve. It was cold and rainy and I was on guard duty. As I was standing guard in my leaky raincoat, I could see a glow on the mountainside. At first I thought it may be the result of a bombing but the following morning we all learned that it was Mount Vesuvius erupting.

Across the Volturno

A clipping from the Bothell, Washibngton newspaper.

At this time the 15th and 7th Regiments were trying to force their way across the Volturno River. From where we were, we could hear a lot of machinegun and artillery fire. It went on for two days and we heard a lot of rumors about the troubles the other regiments were having trying to get across the river. They said the Germans had made it their winter defense line. It was said that the 15th was having all kinds of trouble trying to get a foothold on the other side. These rumors didn't help my morale one little bit.

On the October 13, 1943 the First Battalion was to move across the River. After 300 yards on the other side we were swinging to the left and got about a mile and a half down the river to a place called Triflisco which was a group of buildings on top of hill that overlooked the river valley. I was given very detailed instructions because I was informed that I was going to be point man for this little maneuver. The point man was the first man to lead the column and usually the first guy to get shot at. I will never know who volunteered me for this job but someone had to do it. Believe me there were no extra benefits for being point man. We left where we had been in reserve about 10 P.M. It was wet and slippery in the Italian mud as we made our way toward the river.

About 200 yards from the river there was a jeep parked with a trailer loaded with mattress covers. They were used for body bags during WWII. A couple of men were standing there passing them out to each man as he passed and they were told to put them in their packs. It was a great idea for the graves registration people but hardly good for the morale of the troops. When one got himself killed all graves registration people had to do was open your pack pull out the mattress cover and stuff your dead body in it. As I was handed my mattress cover I had decided that I was about to give my life for my country.

When we got to the river I discovered that the engineers had already built a pontoon footbridge across the river that made me feel better right away. They could not have done that under fire. A path had been built down to the river on our side so it was easy to get down to the bridge but when I crossed to the other side there was nothing but three inches of slimy mud. I slid around trying to make my way up the bank without falling. The moon came out from behind the clouds ounce in a while so I could orient myself and keep moving ahead. I kept checking my rifle to make sure the safety was off because I wanted that baby to fire the instant I needed it.

All the men in my squad were close behind. I got to where I guessed was about 200 yards north and turned ninety degrees and headed west parallel to the river. I still had not met any opposition. I was beginning to think this point man thing wasn't all that bad. After I had gone about a mile I came to a ditch filled with water from the recent rain. It looked to be about eight feet across so I stepped back a few paces and took a running jump and landed right in the middle of the damn thing up to my chest in water. Now that I was soaked with water it seemed that I was ten pounds heavier. In my wet condition it only took a short time until the cold and my anxiety about being out in front of the whole damn regiment started me shaking uncontrollably.

I was shaking so much I don't think I could have hit anything if I had to. I progressed to the base of the hill and still hadn't been shot at. Everything was going great all I had to do was climb the hill through the wet brush. The moon was intermittent and helped to light my way up the hill. I accidentally found a trail that went up the hill but we were trained never to follow a trail. After > floundering around in the brush for fifteen minutes I said "to hell with it" and took the trail up the hill.

I was getting tired as it was now about 2:30 A.M. and I wanted to get to the objective. I led the platoon to the top of the hill and when we got close to see some buildings some idiot Kraut opened up with a burp gun. That was a German machine pistol that fired 1,200 rounds a minute. The gun sounded menacing but this shooter wasn't very accurate.

I returned fire with my B.A.R. and fed six clips of ammo into the building as the platoon flanked the position but when they overran it the enemy had left. This was the first and last time I was going to be point man. We stayed on the hill the next day and from this vantage were able to watch the engineers complete a large pontoon bridge to get tanks and trucks across the river.

The bridge was almost finished when a couple of divebombers tried to knock it out but were unsuccessful. That night we moved out and headed north to try to find the enemy. Things sure would have been easier if everyone had cat eyes and this advancing at night would not be so difficult. But we had to expand our hold across the river and now that our armor on our side of the river it would make the bridgehead more stable.

Now the enemy started to increase artillery fire, it was mostly harassing fire but it works on the nerves because ounce in a while someone gets hit. The British Eighth Army was unable to get across the river in their sector to the so they came across our pontoon bridge into our area and pushed west to where they were supposed to be.

And so we had the opportunity to observe the great Eighth Army and its great fighting technique. Nobody could believe what they saw. The British road in what they called Bren-Gun Carriers. They were small fully-tracked vehicles that carried four people. I think they spent more time putting the tracks back on than they hauled troops but then if you had to repair your vehicle you didn't have to fight.

During our night on the hill a lone Kraut sitting in his fox hole fired a burp gun in the air but not menacing enough to pay serious attention to. The British sent a patrol further out and the Kraut fired at them. The British soldiers came running back and ordered a 20 minute barrage on the hill. After the barrage was over they started to assemble a platoon to go back up the hill but only after two o'clock tea time. Everything stopped while British had tea.

We couldn't believe what we were seeing. If a barrage were needed, and it wasn't, we would have been right there under it and they would have followed it up with an infantry charge. We were not impressed at all. They used artillery needlessly and took morning and afternoon tea breaks. Hell, we never got time to eat until our objective was taken. We hated to see them play around with the war when all the American soldiers wanted to do was to get the damn war over with and get back home and make a life for ourselves.

After watching the Brits play around, night was coming, and they finally took the hill that we had spent the night before on. My friend Shelton and I bedded down in a shallow irrigation ditch it was dry because it hadn't rained now for about five days. As it got later into the night the harassing fire started coming in closer. Shelton started to get nervous. I tried to convince him they couldn't get a shell close to us because we were to close to the base of the hill where we were.

The Cruel Fate of War

Wow, was I ever wrong. Only minutes later we heard a round coming in and Shelton started to run. I raised up to grab him and pull him down and BLAM the shell hit in an apple tree that over hung the ditch we were in. If I had not raised up to grab Shelton I would have been killed because a shell fragment went through my pack that I was using as a pillow. I still have that shell fragment it had gone through my pack and into my ammo clips and buried itself in the cartridges and the hot metal burned the gunpowder that I smelled the rest of the night.

When morning came we moved about a half mile away but the enemy artillery was worse. Shelton and I were digging a hole together, as we usually did, when all of a sudden he decided to move down the road to a culvert, where Sammy and two other men were. He felt safer there but I stayed in my hole. As night came on Mother Nature called Shelton out of the culvert and before he returned a shell came in and killed him.

I felt very badly about the whole damn thing. My morale was at a very low point even though I knew we were in a war and people got killed. We had to resign ourselves to death, a resignation that sometimes created the most glorious heroes of the war. Men who were simple civilians before the start of the war often saved their lives and the lives of many others during the terror of the overwhelming situations the found themselves in.

I started pairing up with a new man named Walter Warfield. Partners to dig in with, share a pup tent with and trade off on night watch. But this didn't last more than ten days.

We were called on to attack a hill just east of Pietravairano. I don't know who thought up this mission but the attack was in daylight with no artillery preparation except for a few harassing rounds fired earlier. There really should be some fire cover as the troops advanced. In this mission, A and B companies started across the valley floor. There was 2,000 yards of flat open terrain in very wet grass about eight inches high. We couldn't have gotten wetter if it had been eight inches of water. As we started the attack the Krauts saw us coming and hit us with their artillery and mortars fortunately the ground was very soft and the shells went deep before they exploded. The shell fragments go up more than they spread out so there is less chance of getting hit.

The thing I learned on this day was to run like hell and keep the enemy artillery falling to the rear. To keep the machineguns from getting you in the front, you fire forward as you're running hopefully forcing the men manning the gun to keep their heads down. It also helps to pray a lot but this has to be done on the run because when you stop, you are a perfect target.

As we approached the hill covered with scrub oak, the machineguns opened up and we began to locate the enemy positions. The stupid Germans were using tracer bullets so you could pin point right where they were. That night I dug in on the side of the hill with Walter, my new partner. We took turns staying awake and alert because the enemy was trying to infiltrate our line. The next day we moved about a mile west toward Pietravairno. As we made our way through the scrub oak we came to a clearing which left us open to observation and sure enough enemy mortars started firing 90mm mortar shells at us. They certainly had us zeroed in because the first shells burst all around us. I hit the ground and put my head against a rock that was about two feet in diameter thinking that if anything hit in front of me I would have some protection. I looked over to my right and saw a rock overhang only about 30 feet away. I dove for it and got under the overhang as much as possible.

At the same time Walter took my position by the rock as another volley came in. One of the rounds hit right beside him and a large shell fragment went through his head. He died instantly. After about five minutes they firing stopped. Sergeant Laeser and I put Walter on a shelter half buttoned it together and ran a pole through it. Walter was not small he weighed about 175 pounds. Fortunately it was all down hill and I had the downhill end. We had the better part of a mile to go. The blood ran out of the shelter half and all down my right backside and leg.

When we got to the bottom of the hill we found a stack of K rations and ammo. We put the body down besides the stack. It was now raining and we left Walter there in the rain. I will never forget how I had been talking to him a couple of hours ago and now his corpse was there in the mud and rain beside a pile of rations as if he didn't amount to anything. He and all the rest like him were the true heroes in this damn war.

Sgt. Laser and I were tired and wet so we went to a nearby farmhouse and made ourselves guests for the night. There was a fireplace that warmed the main room. After our dinner of K rations, I was beginning to dry out. I wrapped myself up in my army blanket in front of the fireplace and promptly fell to sleep. The sergeant and I woke the next morning. Well-rested, we started to look for our platoon. We found the platoon still on the side of the hill not far from where left them. We never mentioned our palatial accommodations of the night before.

That afternoon we entered Pietravairno. There was no street fighting but I had a chance to empty a couple clips through my B.A.R. at a couple of Messerschmitts that came over at about 400 feet looking for something to strafe. After taking Pietravairno the First Battalion went into reserve.

While everyone else was resting somebody volunteered me to go to mountain climbing school. Every day I was picked up by a truck and taken to the location of the school. The school was run by the Tenth Mountain Division and a few Italian Alpine troops. Not much rest but a lot of fun and I didn't need rest as much as I needed change. I learned how to tie many different kinds of knots, how to use petons, and repel, that was the most fun. I also learned many other things mountain climbers need to know.

Mountain climbing training.

When school was over I went back to join the First Battalion full time and listen to the rumors flying around. They were all about the same and that as soon as we took the next hill the terrain became flat and the tanks can take over. Then the tanks can ramble all the way up the Italian boot. Of course I knew this would never happen because why did they send me to mountain climbing school if it were true?

Simple Survival

Italy is a very mountainous country with very few flat areas. We were fast learning what General Bradley said in his book "Soldiers Story". Incentive is not ordinarily part of an infantryman's life. For him there are no 25 or 50 missions to be completed for a ticket home. Instead the rifleman trudges into battle knowing that statistics are stacked against his survival. He fights without promise of reward or relief. Behind every river there's another hill and behind every hill another river.

After weeks or months in the line only a wound can offer him the comfort of safety, shelter and a bed. Those who are left to fight, fight on evading death but knowing that with each day of evasion they have exhausted one more chance of survival. Sooner or later, unless victory comes, the chase must end on the litter or in the grave.

Previous combat experience taught us that casualties are lumped primarily in the rifle platoons. For here are concentrated the hand full of troops that must advance under enemy fire. It is upon them that the burden of war falls with the greatest risk and with less likelihood of survival than in any other of the combat arms. A WWII infantry division consisted of 81 rifle platoons each with full combat strength of approximately 40 men. Altogether those 81 assault units comprise but 3,240 men in a division of 14,000. In an army of 350,000, fewer than one out of seven soldiers stood in the front line. This does not mean of course, that none of the other seven fought. Many of them did but as artillerymen, engineers, and tankers. And in theater the proportion declined at even a more precipitous rate one man with a rifle for each fifteen men behind him.

Mount Lungo

Our next operation after being in reserve for 10 days, was the seizing of Mount Lungo. The First Battalion shoved off at 053O on November 6,1943 as lead battalion. As soon as we started up the mountain the enemy artillery opened up and pinned us down but only for a short time.

Mount Lungo and the Liri Valley. At the entrance valley, the 36th Division suffered through the Battle for San Pietro in December 1943.

After being in reserve we were ready for our next little battle with the German supermen. The first Battalion shoved off at 0500, November 6th 1943. Our objective was Mt. Lungo or Mt. Cannavinelle I have never been able to figure out which one it was but the Jerries were well dug in and the mountain was steep. As soon as we reached the line of departure the enemy artillery came down on us.

I remember one shell in particular it sounded like it broke in two pieces instead of hundreds of pieces. A large piece came right over me as I lay on the ground. It made a fluttering sound like a half an airplane propeller. It hit a large rock just about a hundred feet from me and the sparks flew all over. The blood chilled in my veins but I got over it as the shelling lifted and we started moving up the mountain. The slope got steeper and steeper as we progressed it finally got so steep that when we shot at we didn't have very far to fall when we hit the ground.

We were pulling ourselves up the slope by pulling on tree branches and exposed roots and anything else that we could get a hold of. We received some machinegun and rifle fire but we had more fire power with our M1s and they were far more accurate than anything the Germans had and besides, the Germans were poor shots. We reached our objective with only about only 20 casualties: 700 men at 1315 whereupon we started receiving murderous artillery and mortar fire. There was no place to dig in — nothing but rock all over the top of the mountain.

I was lucky I found a rock that was ten feet high and I was able to dig under it. After I had it all hollowed out I felt quite safe. This was my home for two weeks while it rained and snowed off and on all the while.

The 442nd

The first day after our arrival and as darkness was fast approaching Colonel Kenny wanted someone to contact the outfit on our right which was back down hill. I said I would go and asked for a volunteer to go with me. I don't remember who went with me but I do remember the difficult time we had.

Japanese-American soldiers of the 442nd Regimental Combat Team on the march.

We started out by going straight down the hill, slipping and sliding on the rocks and through the underbrush. It got darker as we moved along. As we crashed through the wet brush I'm sure the Germans must have thought we were some kind of mountain climbing tank. We went about 2,000 yards and were challenged. I immediately gave the password and was told to come on in.

When I got there I was surely surprised. I was talking to a Japanese soldier from the famous 442nd Infantry they were an all-volunteer outfit and this was there first time on the line. It was strange to be talking to a Jap when we were at war with them, but then again we had many people of German decent. We were all Americans and we all fought like Americans. From that time on the 442nd was always on our right or left flank.

We returned and reported to the Colonel that the Japs were on our right flank and holding. He was shocked but glad that someone was there. I don't know how far we would have gone if we had not contacted anyone.

It was a cold miserable place on that mountain. People that got minor wounds often died of shock. The wet and cold helped shock do its work. I went to visit my friend Bob Herriott a couple of times and on the third trip he was gone. They said he got hepatitis and left for the hospital. I never saw him again until after the war was over at his home in Everett, Washington.

On the third day Colonel Kenny decided he was going to look for targets to call artillery on. He was taking a radioman and I was going with my B.A.R. as rifle protection. We started out with the colonel leading and the radioman following him and I was bringing up the rear. We had just started out when mortar fire started coming in on us. One of the mortar shells hit the radioman right on the head. It blew the top half of his body away and splattered it all over the colonel's back. Needless to say our mission was scrubbed.

When it started to rain I went back to my hole under the big rock to read a paperback book for a while and went to sleep. Death was becoming normal but these things are still pressed in my mind.

We stayed up there on that mountain for ten days or more and each day we lost more men to the cold miserable weather, firefights and mortars. Many men got trench foot, others got pneumonia or hepatitis. When we were relieved by the 36th Division we came off the mountain with less than fifty percent of the number that we went up with. The 36th Division had not been on the line since Salerno about 80 days previous.

As I walked off the mountain, my feet became quite warm and then hot, it was the circulation coming back to my feet. Of course I hadn't had my shoes off for two weeks. We reached the highway and started to strike a good pace. My feet started hurting but fortunately the trucks came and picked us up and we went to the rear about 20 miles to the town of Pietravairno. Once there, we pitched preamble tents and were given cots to sleep on, but with eight men to a tent it was a tight squeeze but we really settled in for a rest.

Rest Area Italy

It was only three days before Thanksgiving Day 1943 and it was raining and the mud was mucking up where we were camped. My feet were hurting a lot from my brush with trench foot. I wanted to rest but couldn't sleep very well. On Thanksgiving Day after breakfast I learned that I was going to rest camp in Naples. I got a shower and some clean clothes, threw all my toilet articles into a bag and was ready to leave by 0900. I borrowed as much money as I could get my hands on, which totaled about 40 bucks, and jumped into Wayne Turner's Jeep and away we went to the University of Naples where the rest camp was located.

An Army band plays near the Fifth Army Rest Center in Naples on November 25, 1943.

We arrived at noon and Thanksgiving dinner was on the table. We both pigged out. After dinner I had to find out where I was going to stay that night. This only took a few minutes, after which we grabbed a horse drawn carriage and were off to see the city to see what it had to offer. We hit the nearest bar and had a couple of drinks. Then out to look for some hookers and there were some good ones I think Wayne got laid about five times in that many hours and we drank a lot. I would say we had fun.

We went out on the street about midnight and tried to find our way back to the rest center when we were picked up by the MPs. I told them that we needed to get back to the rest center. So they took us back and let us off at the front gate as if they were used to doing it. Wayne had to drive back to our camp area that night. I really don't know how he did it because he was surely loaded. It's a good thing he had a Jeep because he certainly couldn't walk.

Before I went to bed I went to the dispensary and told the medic on duty that I hadn't slept for four nights because of the pain in my feet. He gave me a big red pill that was the size of a small bomb, I took the small bomb and went up three floors to my room. I slept till almost 3:00 the next afternoon I couldn't believe that it was so late. When I got out of bed I noticed immediately all the pain in my feet was gone. It felt so good I could walk again without pain.

It was too late in the day to do anything so I took a long shower and waited around for dinner. After dinner saw movie at the rest center. The next day I stepped outside and stood on the curb to wait for a cab. A beautiful young girl came up and asked if I would like to go to her house. She was probably the prettiest girl I had seen in Italy. She had brown eyes and blond hair — a combination that I have always found hard to resist. A girl like that could get me to do anything she wanted.

But this was different. I knew she was only doing it to get money to support herself and her family, as most of the Italian people were so poor at this time. I also thought it may be a trap and that she might have a big brother with some friends waiting around the corner to rob me. I left her there and got a cab and downtown to the Red Cross where I got tickets to the San Carlos Opera House so I could go to the symphony. It was great treat to hear music for a change instead of the constant sound artillery shells

The third day I spent most of the day on a tour of the city of Pompeii. I found it very interesting seeing the old ruins and trying to imagine how the people lived. After the tour we were let off at the Red Cross so I hung around until dinnertime then another soldier that I became acquainted with on the tour and I went to look for a place to eat. We found a place that looked clean so we went in and the waiter gave us a menu.

Ruins at Pompei 1943.

Everything on the menu was in Italian. As we were trying to figure out what was what, a fellow at the next table dressed in civilian clothes asked if he could order for us. O f course we needed his assistance. After he placed our order for spaghetti and bread — because he said it was the only thing worth eating — we ordered a couple bottles of champagne. The champagne was 25 cents a bottle so while we drank we asked this person who ordered our food who in the heck he was. He told us he was with the O.S.S. and that he had been in Italy for five years, and that he radioed information to the U.S. all during this time. In other words he was a real spy.

While we talked to him our food came and also a bombing raid. All the Italians went to the bomb shelter but we couldn't see any reason to leave so we stayed and had finished our meal before the natives returned. By now it was almost 10:00 and about time to think about getting back to the rest center. We caught a cab back to and I had another great night's sleep.

The fourth day I had decided to go to town to do some Christmas shopping. As I came out of the rest center I found myself looking for the little blond goddess. I think I was hoping to see her again but she wasn't there. I often wondered what ever became of her. On my shopping trip I bought several cameos because Naples was world renowned for their cameos and also for leather gloves. I sent my mother and aunt some cameos and I also sent my aunt a pair of gloves. The large cameos I bought were only $5 when I went back forty years latter the same cameos were $150.

Italy 1943.

My days at the rest center were fast coming to an end even though I wanted to stay for the duration but duty said I must return to my unit and get on with this thing they called war because there was still much to do. I bought a jug of brandy and five pounds of filbert nuts to take back to the men at camp. When I returned everyone was still on light duty.

Company B had just got a new Lieutenant to replace Bob Herriott and of all things it was John Hewitt who had gone to Everett High School at the same time Bob and I had and was in Company L in the National Guard, however I didn't know John as well so I didn't visit with him as much as I had with Bob. In fact I didn't get a chance to talk much at all because the next day I became ill with a 104-degree fever. I reported for sick call the next morning.

Hospital

I was sent off to the field hospital. I was there for five days and my fever stayed up all the time, the smell of food made me so nauseated at each meal time my stomach would turn over and I felt like disgorging all my guts. After five days with no improvement in my illness they shipped me off to the station hospital in Naples.

It was in a huge building on top of a hill and it had heat and all kinds of other niceties. The station hospital had real beds with sheets. It was such a big improvement over the tents with floating duct boards and cots sinking into the mud. I arrived at noon but wasn't admitted until 4:00, which was an error by admitting personnel, but many of the people ahead of me were battle casualties and I had to wait my turn. After many days of medication I began to feel a little better by Christmas but dinner still didn't appeal to me. I was, however, able to choke down a couple of bites and keep it down.

By New Year's Day I was able to eat most of my meal and my fever was gone but the doctors still weren't sure what caused all this. A week after New Year's Day, and after several blood tests, I was discharged from the hospital and sent to a replacement depot. They usually sent people back to their original unit but they didn't have to. While I was there I was treated like a prisoner. I couldn't believe the terrible treatment the soldiers here got.

I spent three nights at the depot and thought I was going to freeze to death. We were in tents which was alright but they had no heat. We slept on the ground with no cots and no padding. The food was cold C-rations and it all seemed like life was better on the frontline. The only thing good about it was that we weren't being shot at. There was a heavy guard on the place but if I could have gotten out I could have hitch-hiked back to my unit in a couple of hours. Instead I spent three miserable days there.

I was given an overcoat that kept me from freezing while I was there. When I left the place I left the overcoat in the tent for some other poor bastard that came through maybe he could put two overcoats on. Nobody in the Third Infantry Division wore overcoats because the Krauts wore overcoats and they were like a kiss of death to anyone that wore one. It was difficult to explain to these rear echelon jerks what the situation was like. I hoped that I would never have to come through a replacement depot again.

When I returned to my unit I found my old friend and former barber Lieutenant Schultz had returned to duty. He promptly promoted me to corporal. This made me feel good because I was certainly getting tired of being a private. I was still in the anti-tank platoon but my title was battalion liaison corporal. In other words I was now the battalion runner instead of platoon runner. It was also my duty to submit an overlay map to regiment HQ showing our gun positions and also "D" Company D's mortars and machine gun positions. The new job let me spend more time at battalion headquarters.

On the second day after return we loaded aboard landing crafts to make a practice landing just North of Naples. As it turned out, we were practicing for the landing at Anzio. They loaded our anti-tank guns into amphibious two-and-a-half-ton trucks called DUCKS and these were loaded aboard LSTs.

We practice landing in the DUCKS and later when we were on shore, Lieutenant Schultz jumped to the ground and broke some bones in his foot. He was sent off to the hospital and so we were without a platoon leader again. Sergeant Trembly was put back in charge again. We never saw Lieutenant Schultz again and I never knew what became of him.

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