Some questions to our Veterans.

What did you think of hearing the sound and feeling the vibrations of Artillery weather it was being fired or exploding nearby?
(I was near a Canadian army artillery piece once and I felt the vibrations of it firing a blank from easily 400m away; it was quite terrifying.)

Did you experience "Tigerphobia" from hype or from your officers or friends?

Did any of your comrades ever get "Shellshock" or some other mental disorder? and if so what did you think of it?

What was your general opinion of the branches opposite yours? Such as Army, Navy, Air force ( Im curious as I recall that the RAF were labeled as cowards after Dunkirk and then earned back respect during the BoB)

What was your opinion of the famous commanders of the day? ( Monty, Patton, Eisenhower, Rommel, Rundstedt, Guderian, Ozawa, Yamamoto and so on.)

How was your morale as a fighting man? ( Did you think you were going to win?, Unsure?, were you patriot fighting for your country or just a man fighting your wife?)


I missed out on my chance to talk to a veteran years ago and there was always little questions I had that hoped for answers.
Thanks for any help:S!

 

Great questions totenkopf.... Franek has been on the forums everyday this week. I'm sure you'll get some amazing feedback from him, as well as our fellow veterans that roam these parts

 

AHA! Although I was a mere Corporal during WW2, I feel that i can answer most of your questions from my own experience.

Artillery!

The closest that I ever came to the delivery of artillery was A 57 MM anti tank gun. Other than a loud blast It never bothered me.
On the receiving end it was a different story. You could here the shell approaching by a swishing sound. Lying in a prone position you could feel the ground shake then came the shrapnel. I witnessed this on the morning of December the 16, 1944. depending on how close one was upon impact pretty well determined the scope of Shell Shock.
When I was captured and came under American Artillery fire it was a different story. Our Artillery was equipped with a proximity fuse that made the shell explode before impact. It as devastating. The Germans were scared to death of it.

Shell Shock?

I have had this experience. On the morning of December 16th 1944. I was confronted by a German Tank loaded with Infantry. They spotted me and started firing. I ran as fast as I could seeking cover in the woods. Since they had no time to fool with one man, they proceeded on. Out of beath I stopped to catch my breath and noticed blood in the snow. I then realized that I took a bullet through the leg. I was so scared that I never realized it.. It was then that I started shaking uncontrollable realizing how close I came to death.. After about ten minutes I regained my composure.. It never happened again through out the war.



Tigerphobia?? I never heard this expression before.

I am not qualified to speak for the other brances of service.

Commanders?

I had no use for Montgomery or Patton.. They both sought glory at the expense of others. We GI's refered to Patton as old blood and guts.. ( Our Blood, and his Guts) Montgomery?? ( NO Balls Monty)

Morale?

Morale was always 100%

Patriot.?

We never thought about it.. We were at War and had a job to do. In WW2 America was a unified country.
Today America SUCKS

 

Hello Franek,
Thank you for your answers to Totenkopf`s questions!

I do have a couple of questions for you.

Where were you captured at?

Where were you held at when you were a POW?

Was your camp liberated by the Allies?

Thanks,
Bill

 

Was your injury caused by a rifle caliber round or a 9mm slug?

 

I have no idea. What ever it was it went through the calf of my left leg and went out the other side. I never looked back.. It is even possible that it was shrapnel from the tanks 88MM.

 

Guy's;
Since my Web site might be too much to read.. I decided to put daily input on this forum. If you like what you see I will add another everyday.

OF MY LIFE IN THE ARMY DURING WORLD WAR II

I was born on November 7, 1925 in Baltimore Maryland. My parents were Polish immigrants who came to America to seek a better life. In Poland they were peasants and uneducated. At the age of six I was sent to a Polish speaking catholic school run by nuns. This was at the height of the great American Depression. We were very poor. Every body was. There were no jobs. My Dad was a tailor and found work. My Mom scrubbed floors in a public building. During the summer months my brother and I went to a farm along with my grandmother and other Polish immigrants. We picked beans, strawberries and skinned tomatos. Every penny helped. We slept in shanties on straw mattresses. We cooked on a wood burning community stove.
This went on until December 7, 1941 when Japan attacked Pearl Harbor. America at war, and jobs became plentiful. My Father went into a shipyard. My brother and I went into the aircraft industry. We built the Martin B26 Marauder medium bomber. I made 45 cents an hour. Mom quit work to cook for us. Life was much better. There was no gasoline, very few automobiles. We walked a mile to the market for groceries.
This went on until February 1944. I turned 18 and was drafted in to the Army. I reported to Ft. George Meade in Maryland.. I can still picture my Mother crying as I left. Even though I still did not shave, my father gave me his razor. I was growing up.

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I reported to an Armory where I was one of hundreds of inductees. We boarded buses, and were shipped to Fort George Meade in Maryland. Upon our arrival we were fed and issued uniforms. Nothing was measured. We looked like a bunch of refugees. When we complained, we were told that we would grow into them.
On the first day as I walked down a street, I walked by another soldier. As we passed, he called out to me. He asked me if I knew who he was. I told him no. He then told me that he was an officer and that I did not salute him. I just looked at him. He then asked me how long I was in the Army. I told him about five hours. That did it. My ass ended up on KP. I never saw so many potatoes and dirty dishes in my life. But I got the last laugh. I pigged out on the food. It was good. I got meat. Civilians were rationed.
A couple of days later we gathered to be tested for any skills where we would benefit the Army. Since the Army had no need for bean pickers I was assigned as cannon fodder in the infantry.
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One day in early March, we were assembled and boarded a troop train. This was my first time on a train, and since I was never more than 25 miles from home. This was a new adventure. As we boarded the train, we saw other draftees from other induction centers. I sat next to a kid from Ohio. He was to be my best buddy throughout the war. We had no idea where we were going. There was a lot of stopping and picking up new recruits.
About a day later we were ordered to disembark. They lined up. And a Non Commissioned officer walked in front of us inspecting. He was a red faced redneck. He called us a bunch of F***** Yankees, and said now our asses belonged to him. My buddy next to me whispered, (Jesus Christ, they are going to kill us). We were then marched to a barracks. The beds were double-deckers. I got the bottom, my buddy took the top. We were then led to a mess hall where we were fed. The food was good. After mess we returned back to the barracks where we were told what was expected of us. The first day belonged to us to get acclimated to our barracks. We were taught how to make our beds and so forth.

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A couple days later we were marched into a building to be classified to see where we would be best suited in the infantry. Remembering my mistake, about being a bean picker, I decided to tell them that in civilian life I installed communication boxes in airplanes. I failed to tell them that all that I did was to install a metal box with some screws to a bulk head, and have never even touched a wire. But in the Armies wisdom, they classified me as a communication expert. I was to be trained into communications. I was moved to another barracks with other men to form a communication platoon. I was surprised to see my buddy assigned there too.
In the morning at 5:30A we were awakened by a bugle blowing reveille. We cleaned ourselves up, made our beds and went to the mess hall. After breakfast, we returned to our barracks. At 6A a whistle blew and we lined up for roll call. We were then taught how to march in step. We practiced close order drill with our new rifles. (We were not allowed to call it a gun.) It was a rifle. Our constant companion, we were taught how to disassemble and clean them. We practiced bayonet exercises, hand to hand combat, calisthenics, and movies on VD twice a week. They showed the effects of gonorrhea, syphilis. They were trying to tell us something.
A couple hours everyday we went to class where we were taught the Morse code, Telephone and radio communications. Slowly we were becoming soldiers. We went to the firing range where we practiced marksmanship. I made sharp shooter. We were introduced to Machine guns, BAR's, hand grenades and Bazookas. We were warned against snakes. We practiced in Pecan Groves. It was still cold so I never saw a Pecan. We were issued passes to Macon Georgia, a real military town.
Sometime in early May, we graduated. We were now soldier. I went from private to a Private first class. We were given one week passes along with orders to report to another base. I was ordered to Camp Maxey, Texas, to the 99th infantry division. With my orders and furlough and a train ticket I headed home. By now my uniform fit me very well, and the girls went nuts when they saw me. I was no longer a kid. Hell I even went to my first burlesque show.

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On my way to Camp Maxey, I had visions of cowboys and cattle and open ranges, very much like I have seen in the movies, or the first time in my life I headed West. I saw my first mountains in Pennsylvania and West Virginia. Soon I crossed the Mississippi River. Before long I arrived in Paris Texas. Much to my dismay I found it to be very much like the South. No cowboys.
I checked in and tried to get the feel of things. I was assigned to a communication platoon. There I met my old buddy again. We followed the same routine as we did in Camp Wheeler. More marching school, More VD lectures. Everyday was the same.
We were issued passes to go into town. Paris offered nothing. We spent a lot of time in Texarkana. In WWII, America was a united country. Patriotism was everywhere. Every body had a family member in the service. There were 16 million of us. We were treated great no matter where we went. We went to watermelon festivals, USO dances, invited into homes. America was worth fighting for. Every body pulled together.
One day it was very hot. My company was ordered to go on a 25 mile hike. For the first time my buddy and I disobeyed orders and went to a movie instead. I never enjoyed the movie for I feared that when they found us missing that we would be shot at dawn. God was looking over us, for no one missed us. We got away with it.
One day around September we were confined to camp. Word came down to start packing. Every thing was hush, hush. We were confined and not allowed to leave camp lest the enemy found out They told us that spies were every where. We were now a fighting unit. Excitement was in the air. Rumors flew everywhere. One day we were loaded unto troop trains and headed to God only knew where.

 

Wow!! Thank you for the link to your site Franek. It did answer my questions. Amazing story of what you went through in combat and captivity. Liked the part about the grenade and blowing uo the tree

What kind of treatment do you think you would have got if you were not able to explain why you had the diary?

Thanks again

Bill

 

Thank you for sharing, great stories! And thank you for your service as well, you have the respect of all on the board I'm sure.

 

Thank you so much for your answers Sir!

Oh, and Tigerphobia was actually a term I had seen on a documentary which told of after the Tiger had achieved its legendary status among the Allies, it was the immediate thought from a soldier when he heard "German Tank!"

Thank you again.

 

What kind of treatment do you think you would have got if you were not able to explain why you had the diary?

Thanks again

Bill[/QUOTE]

I cant answer that. By now Germany realized that they lost the war.I still saw some arrogance from individual Germans, but all in all. I was never threatened. The morale of the German soldier was very low. Maybe they were just trying to save their own skin

 

yes indeed, thanks you Franek for sharing your story!

and thanks Totenkopf for starting the thread and getting the ball rollling!

 

Growing Up
In the Army Now
Europe Here We Come
Post War Years
Photo Gallery
Guestbook

Europe Here We Come

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We were in strict secrecy. The train stopped a couple of times, but we were not allowed to get off. After awhile we crossed a large river. Somebody said that it was the Mississippi. We all agreed a couple signs started showing up of places east of the Mississippi. A cry went out that we were heading east. It looked like Europe. The Pacific was no longer considered. After awhile we disembarked in a Camp Miles Standish in Rhode Island (The smallest of the 48). We were not allowed out of camp. We went to Boston Harbor where we boarded a troop ship called the SS Excelsior. We were led below deck to cramped quarters with three folding bunks. It was tight. The ship stank. To get food we lined up on deck to enter the mess hall below. Food was cooked by steam. It was lousy. As long as we were docked it was ok. But when we got under way with the rough seas we all got seasick from the steam smelling food. We headed for the rails and puked our guts out. In the morning of the second day we looked out and saw that we were not alone. There were many ships with a navy escort, a convoy.
A couple of days later while we were puking, we saw the navy ships in action. We saw explosions and geysers of water in the air. We assumed that they were dropping depth charges on a submarine. In time it stopped. We never saw any subs. After about five days we got our sea legs and were no longer sick. This was my first time at sea. It was interesting. I never did get use to the food. I lived off of oranges and candy bars.
On the ninth day somebody screamed, “LAND". Later a deck hand told us that it was England. Later that day we pulled into Liverpool harbor .It was much different than the States. The people dressed a lot different. I was not impressed. We were loaded onto trucks and headed to parts unknown. Now, the more that I saw of the country side, the more impressed I became. We drove on the left side of the road and I saw my first grass thatched roofs. The countryside was clean and beautiful.

 

Thank you for sharing your stories with us. Your web site also looks very top notch i must say.

I noticed in your pictures you posted one of Kilroy, during your time in the service did you see much kilroy drawings around?

 

I never saw Kilroy until i went to Europe.. He was everywhere. On a one day pass in Paris, I went to the Notre Dame Cathedral and saw his picture carved in a Pew. He was everywhere

 

Franek, thanks very much for your contribution here!

 

Good Morning Ya'All; Another day another chapter.


The town people gave up their homes for us. I saw my first coal burning fire place. It did the job. People were good to us. And we were good to them. We gave them chocolates, food and cigarettes. They were on meager rations. The men in the British Army hated us. They called us overpaid, oversexed, and over here, because we took their women for goodies. This did not apply to us. We could not fraternize. Our Air force stationed in England brought on this reputation. After a short stay, we were then ordered to trucks and transported to Southampton England, where we boarded a British Ship, They fed us kidney stew. We ALL got sick. The floor was awash in puke. The next morning we arrived at LeHavre, France. It was demolished by D day. We were glad to get off of that ship.

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After arriving in LeHavre we were transported to an apple orchard called Camp Lucky Strike after the cigarette of that time. We set up pup tents and dug slit trenches. A slit trench was a 24 inch ditch just wide enough to straddle to do your business. We ate a lot of apples. One day word came out that there were two French girls picking apples and watching the Americans using the slit trench. Suddenly it seemed like everyone wanted to use the trench.
We were issued ammunition and gas masks and mounted trucks. I was chosen to drive a truck with a Lt. as my assistant. We drove all night with the lights out. The Lt. never offered to drive. He slept the whole night. As we entered Belgium, we were greeted by the towns’ people offering us wine, bread, flowers and a lot of kisses when we stopped. We drove on until we reached a town called Ambleve, as good as I can remember. My platoon was billeted in a barn. We slept on straw. One day our Lt. came in and told us that we would be going to the front in the morning. And that some of us might not come back. It started to snow as we marched to the front. It was beautiful. The snow clung to the fir trees. It looked like a winter wonderland. We saw deer grazing in the woods. One would never think that a war was going on. We arrived in the Ardennes and were billeted in a railroad station. Here we settled in.

 

Franeck thanks for your story, I visited you website and it is a must read for everyone.

In the 50s and 60s if an old soldier started to reminisce he was often silenced by shouts of " Tell us the old, old story" or " Here we go again, up to our neck in muck and bullets"

Thankfully those shouts are never heard today. The Veterans are now respected for what they gave up and what they experienced. In short we cannot get enough of the stories. Please keep it coming .