Neapolitan Nights (Part 1)

Late in the year, we were alerted for the Italian campaign and just after Christmas, we moved to the staging area located a few miles east of Termini, to a town famous for its beaches, Mondello.  Although we set up our hospital here, we tore it down within two weeks and prepared for our next boat trip which was to take us to Italy.

January 19th found us ready and waiting at the pier in Palermo, the same one on which we landed four months previous.  We had enjoyed our stay in Sicily, but were happy to leave for more important duty.  Four months in one place is more than enough for any soldier.

We left Sicily in a Liberty Ship, the Daniel H. Lownsdale, which proved ideal as a troopship and freighter.  These boats were perfect for wartime purposes as they economized on space and yet there was sufficient room for the troops on board.  This wasn't true on our previous ocean trips.  Considering the speed with which these boats were produced, they were a credit to American genius and productive skill.  The trip was very calm and warm.  We had for our protection one small size Italian corvette which evidently had seen better days before she was assigned to convoy the Ninth Evac across the Tyrrhenean Sea.  The phosphorescent glow below the surface of the water reminded one of the same effect that the waters off Puget Sound have during the summertime.  Coming into Naples harbor, we passed an outbound convoy which proved to be, later in the day, the same one which made the original invasion landings at Anzio.  Like a gang of ants heading for a piece of food, LSTs, LCIs, troopships and heavy protective ships formed a straight line out of the harbor as far as the eye could see.

Naples harbor was filled with sunken ships and it was impossible for our boat to unload.  Some of the men on board were transferred to an LCI and landed on the beach while the remainder stayed on board that night in the harbor.  Like a bright beacon on a clear night, Mt. Vesuvius poured forth a red glow.  Quite often, sparks and flames could be seen coming from the crater.  The rest of the men on board landed the following morning on the side of a sunken Italian destroyer which served as a pier on which to land our gangplank.  All the piers in the port had been wrecked by former air attacks of the Allies and by the Germans before they departed, but American engineers were at work repairing the damage.

Arriving on the mainland of Europe on January 22nd, we drove five miles northwest of Naples to a small suburb of the city called Bagnoli, which formerly housed the area on which the Italian World's Fair was to be held but after remaining open for only two months, was closed because of the outbreak of war in 1940.  The complete area was an ideal setup for a medical center and the American Medical Corps took advantage of the beautiful landscape and large buildings, first notifying the Germans that the area was to be used for such a purpose.  The medical center was full of modernistic buildings, a beautifully planned lagoon, tropical trees which were brought over from Africa, amusement areas, a modern swimming pool, and air-conditioned theatre, and many other new and attractive facilities.  Several of these buildings were destroyed by the Germans before they left.  In spite of that, however, this area was without a doubt the most beautiful and most modern of any in Italy, if not in Europe.

Late in January, we set up a hospital to treat the French wounded and their allies, the Arabs, Goums, Senegalese, native African blacks and other colonials.  We were the only American hospital which treated only French patients.  This was the second time we had contact with these people as we also treated them during the African campaign.

Naples was just coming out of its shelters and many of its inhabitants were returning to their homes hopeful that this time they would not be forced to move out because of air raids and a passing army.  The city itself was "off limits" to U.S. troops because of a supposed typhus epidemic, but it was generally believed that the real reason was a very high venereal rate among its people.  Obviously, the latter could not be given as a reason and the typhus story persisted in official circles although there were no new cases of typhus reported during the month of January, and not one among U.S. troops during the whole Italian campaign.  The venereal rate among Italian women at this time was 90%.

Living conditions among the people were quite bad at this time.  Children were roaming the streets in gangs, most of them barely clothed, hungry and barefoot.  Many a G.I. gave these kids their only meals and provided a place in which to sleep.  Naples harbor was filled with rafts and dirt left over from the previous bombings but the city of one million people was doing business as usual in January, 1944.  Prices for jewelry and trinkets were very expensive, about ten times the price of pre-war Italy and about twice as much as several months previous.

The Naples subway was still running and offered the New York subway some keen competition.  From the suburbs of the city every day came these trains overflowing with humanity who occupied every available inch on the train including the locomotive and every step on the cars.  These were the "black marketeers" who travelled into Naples daily and returned with their haul every afternoon.  A ride on the subway revealed many human interest stories, however.  In one section of the underground, whole families could be seen living in the stations despite the fact that train service was being run on schedule.  Beds, chairs, kitchen sets and household furniture lined the walls.  Wood and charcoal fires were used in the corners of the stations to cook meals.  Children played hide and seek across the tracks while mothers fed their babies, uninterested in what was going on around them.  Through all of this period, no one seemed to bother these guests of the subway and the amazing feature was the fact that there were no deaths on the railroad.

Although famous as the second most beautiful city in Europe, Naples was far from the town it was cracked up to be, after giving due consideration to the circumstances surrounding our stay in Italy.  The town was filthy and despite the war, couldn't have been much better before the war.  Its people were dirty, a condition which could not be excused.  Certainly there was water with which to clean and soap was available at any army post.  These people, in the past, supplied the gangsters of Italian extraction in America.  They were the criminals of Italy and were responsible for the terrible conditions which befell their country.  These people were like children and seems to be in a daze, unable to take care of themselves and refusing to take any responsibility for themselves.  They were selfish and didn't care for the suffering and hardships of their fellow countrymen.  It seemed to us that they should try to solve their own problems before looking to America for help.   These was no doubt that these people were not ready for a democratic form of government.  They had to be educated first, or rather diseducated form their former ways of thinking.

Nightly air raids were not an uncommon occurrence and the anti-aircraft boys weren't much help in keeping them away.  Their aim was poor and were a sad comparison with the boys who "sweated out" the raids over Bizerte after the African campaign.

Sicily Invaded

The small islands in the Mediterranean were being softened up for the eventual invasion of Europe and we were ordered to set up and prepare to receive a tremendous amount of patients, casualties of the coming Sicilian invasion. Set up as a clearing station to handle patients who were to be flown in from the front, we were prepared to receive 10,000 per week for the first few weeks. Ferryville suburbs were selected for our hospital area, which overlooked the town and Lake Bizerte. The campaign was so successful that we received only 25 patients the first week, 250 the first two weeks and only 3,000 for the total campaign of 38 days. This represented 30% of the total American casualties. Events were moving fast. With Sicily gone, Mussolini moved out and the invasion of the mainland was about to begin.

Large formations of German planes attacked Bizerte harbor night and day and for the first time since the start of the African campaign, we were in danger of being hit by shrapnel and flak from our own anti-aircraft fire as well as by bombs from the German planes. Several times during these raids ships were hit and sunk. The most thrilling (although not the safest) sight was one in which our searchlights caught an enemy plane and followed it across the sky until our anti-aircraft boys shot it down. One night, we counted thirteen planes falling to the ground. If there were any atheists among us, or anyone who though that the medics were a non-combat outfit, he changed his mind during those raids. However, we realized that our boys up at the front were experiencing these same episodes night and day.

Although we spent the entire summer in Ferryville, we never were bothered by the weather as such. Occasionally, a hot, dusty sirocco would force us to wash, but never were we uncomfortable from the so-called heat of Africa. Malaria was wiped out among the Army troops by September 1st, a great tribute to the excellent work of the Army Medical Corps and the malarial control units of the Army.

The Allies invaded the mainland of Italy on September 3rd and five days later, she surrendered unconditionally. On September 5th, we were alerted and packed and crated in a hurry for another boat trip. Because of motor trouble on the ship, however, we were delayed several days, during which Bizerte was given its worst pounding of the war from German planes. We were thankful that our ship did have motor trouble as we would no doubt have been on the receiving end of those bombs that night. By September 9th, the motor was repaired and the Ninth Evac was again on its way.

Our boat, a British hospital ship, the Leinster, proved to be the best one on which we sailed. Furnished with soft beds, good hot food, hot and cold running water and with its light on all night, we were treated to a Mediterranean cruise enjoyed by very few people during this war. Unfortunately, the trip lasted only one day. Sicily, as approached from the water, was blasted by the Allied Navy and Air Corps and its docks were wrecked. But the American Army, particularly the Corps of Engineers, was hard at work building and repairing those docks for future use.

We dropped anchor and to our surprise someone else was there to do the work for us. Large Italian labor gangs unloaded the boat, a task we thankfully and diligently avoided. Driven by truck to a staging area near Palermo airfield, we pup-tented it for the night and moved to another staging area, forty miles away, near Termini. We remained here for several days during which time we went swimming in the Tyrrhenian Sea and became acquainted with our new neighbors. They were glad to see us as we came as saviors, freeing them from the Fascistic yolk which brought them into war with the Allies against their will. Here, as everywhere else, the Germans had taken as much with them as they possibly could. Fortunately, they left quickly and we were thereby enabled to share in the "good pickings" from the peach trees, grape vines and tomato patches.

With the surrender of the Italian Navy and the capture of Sardinia and Corsica, the Ninth Evac again moved, this time to Cerda, about fifteen miles east of Termini. The hospital area was situated on two hills, separated by an innocent looking ravine. We later found the purpose of the ravine. During a heavy rainstorm, a flood was caused by the overflowing of a dam several miles up in the mountains. The flood nearly swept away the hospital, carrying with it several bridges which we had previously built. However, it subsided as quickly as it came, the ravine again dried up and again presented an innocent-looking hole.

Our bivouac area was situated within a ten-minute walk to the sea, in which we swam daily. The water was the clearest, calmest and bluest which we had ever seen.

Sicily, at this time, was the ideal spot for sightseeing. The main coastal road running along the northern tip of the island from Palermo to Messina was very beautiful. San Stefano, deserted after many hard months of battle was populated by a few women and children. The most amazing town on the island was Pollina, situated on a rocky hill twelve miles up from the main coastal highway. Built in 1,000 B.C., it took 600 years to be completed. The population, mostly old women and children, numbered 3,000. Every day, a group of men on muleback went down to the town and brought up food and water for the population. There were no industries in town nor was the land suitable for cultivation. It was built only for protection.

Cafalu was a quiet town, untouched by the way, and characterized by many stored charging exorbitant prices for hand-made articles. Termini, a ghost town with wide streets, no food and very poor living conditions, was another example of a city wiped out by the war. Palermo, except for its bombed out docks and its resultant slums, resembled any modern city in Europe. The important points of interest in Palermo still remained -- the catacombs, an ancient indoor cemetery situated under the church of Palermo, Palermo Cathedral, Monreale Cathedral, Modello Lido and the Opera House.

The morale of our troops was high and many projects were begun in this area which lasted for a long time. A theatre guild was organized and it sponsored two shows: "Oh, My Rugged Back" and "Take It Or Leave It", which were very well received. A unit newspaper, "Nine Times", was started and it proved highly popular. A three day trip to Taormina was most interesting. A tourist town during peacetime, specializing in had made jewelry during wartime, Taormina was a convalescent camp for the British Army. Mt. Etna could be seen from the town. An ancient Greek theatre had been preserved and was still standing, a living tribute to the people who originally settled in the town.

Christmas was spent in an old-time American manner. Christmas dinner contained everything a civilian would have dreamed of and then some. For the first time since we came into the Army, there were no complaints about the food. But like all good things, this situation did not last long.

The End of the Beginning (Part II)

Our German prisoners were treated so well in comparison with the way our own boys formerly were handled that it caused much comment among the enlisted personnel of the hospital. Many of them could not understand why American boys who were still injured still had to live in ward tents while enemy injured were treated in beautiful buildings. Perhaps it was good propaganda on our part, but it didn't please the men of the American Medical Corps.

With the surrender of the German troops, travel restrictions were lifted and we were thereby given an opportunity to visit any town in North Africa. The following is a description of the more important towns in Tunisia immediately after cessation of hostilities.

Tunis, the capital and largest city in the country was untouched except for its docks. For several days after the Germans surrendered it marked time, but within a week, stored began to open, people donned their best clothes, and civilization once again returned to Tunis. Within a short time, the American Red Cross had opened a serviceman's club where soldiers could have a meal, play ping pong, take showers and otherwise cool their heels. Tunis was the one remaining city on this part of the continent which resembled anything which we knew back in the states. The one lasting impression of Tunis was its clean streets, fast women and well-dressed men.

Bizerte was another story. Once a thriving seaport town, the best port in the country and a modern city, it was leveled to the ground by the Allied Air Forces. There wasn't a building which remained untouched by bombs or shell fire. It really was a ghost town -- bombed churches, very few people roaming the streets, the only structure still standing, strange as it may seem, was the monument built in honor of those soldiers of Bizerte who gave their lives during the first World War, boats of all descriptions riddled with bullets (these probably were the boats which the Germans intended to use in their evacuation from Africa but were unable), walls blown out of buildings which left only a cross-section of each room. The general impression of Bizerte was one of loneliness and despair, the only signs of life being the chirping of the birds who seemed to tell us about the terrible events of the past few months.

Ferryville was a thriving country town, similar to one which we would find in the states. Since it was untouched by war (the American Army bypassed Ferryville in its dash to Bizerte), business was booming and many articles of civilian wear could be purchased in its stores.

Mateur was nearly as bad as Bizerte. It was here where the Germans fought their last organized battle. The Arab inhabitants were returning to normal. Long lines of Arabs, evidently bringing their money out of hiding to redeposit in their banks, stood in front of the banks for days at a time.

Leaving Tunis, one came to the airport which was partly ruined when it was attacked by the American planes in an attempt to prevent the last remaining Germans in Africa from fleeing by plane. As a result, more than 200 planes were wrecked before they had a chance to take off.

Continuing on this road, one comes to the ancient and famous town of Carthage. In spite of its closeness to Tunis, it remained intact and was a popular sightseeing spot for the American Army of tourists stationed nearby. It was here, among many other ancient ruins, where the only tennis court in Africa still stands, well-kept but unplayed upon.

Our stay in Mateur was drawing to a close as we had performed our function of a station hospital for the German Army. The one characteristic of this area was the annoyance of pests. The only fly in the ointment of an otherwise pleasant stay were the flies themselves. They were much more annoying than the dreaded Anophales. They hounded us day and night. The only protection we had from them at night was the mosquito netting while during the day, it was a constant battle between the flies and the men. During mealtimes, it seemed to be a race between the fly and the soldier to determine who would get to the food first. Very often, loud words of indignation would emanate from the mess tent followed by a cussing soldier emptying the contents of his messkit into the trash barrel.

In general, Mateur was a very beautiful site, but with time, impatience got the best of us and we were desirous of participating in bigger and better things. We soon had our opportunity to do so.

The End Of The Beginning (Part 1)

After setting a time record by remaining in one area for 42 days, we moved, late in April, to Tabarca-By-The-Sea. Completely wrecked, as were most of the towns in Tunisia, Tabarca formerly was a summer beach resort, a fact which enabled all the men to take advantage of a pleasant swim in the beautiful Mediterranean for the first time since we came to Africa. Although the malaria season was about to begin, and in spite of the very poor selection of a swamp land for our hospital area, not one case of malaria was reported during our two week stay here. The only trouble we had was from the reaction to the atebrine tablets which we were given to prevent the symptoms of malaria from hospitalizing us. Atebrine did not cure malaria. All it did was temporarily postpone the effects of malaria. Obviously, this disease will therefore be chronic and recurrent in many soldiers many years after they return home.

The Allies were beginning to put on the pressure. The British Eighth Army broke through at the Mareth Line and joined the II Corps which was attacking Medjez-el-Bab. On May 3rd, the First Armored Division broke through in a powerful thrust which carried it to Mateur and on May 6th, the final drive for Bizerte and Cape Bon was begun. By May 7th, the British were on the outskirts of Tunis and the II Corps was nearing Bizerte. The expected final battle was nearing and the Ninth Evac was ordered to pack up and move as close to the front as possible. On May 9th, we set up in Mateur in a former French hospital, built to serve its colonial troops in Africa, captured by the Germans and held by them until May 1st, at which time they retreated quickly, leaving their dead lying on their cots, not having any time to bury them. Meanwhile, the trapped German Army in Bizerte surrendered on May 9th and the end of the entire German Army in Africa was near at hand.

Our trip from Tabarca to Mateur was a momentous one. Travelling across a former battlefield on which many soldiers from both sides had fought only several days before, we saw wrecked tanks, bombed towns, overturned trucks and total destruction in general. The Germans were surrendering literally by the truckload and it was not an uncommon sight to see them drive right up to an American command post or prison camp in their own tanks, trucks and motorcycles without being guarded by Americans. Some of our own prison camps had to turn thousands away as Germans lined up for miles around to surrender to the Americans rather than travel twenty miles away to give up to the British. They were told that they would receive better treatment from the Americans.

We had to clean out the hospital before we could again set up. The barracks had to be swept and cleaned, the stench from the dead bodies had to be eliminated and a general clean-up job was the first order of the day. Our German comrades evidently had left so quickly that there still was standing in the officer's bar half filled wine glasses. They probably were drinking a toast to the German Army just before they left.

Some of the German units had not been in contact with their forward outfits and did not know exactly what was going on. Such was the case of a German company which was holding out on a hill directly opposite the hospital, about a mile away. Although they were trapped, they tried to fight their way out on the night of May 9th. We witnessed the battle from our hospital area. This probably was the last organized resistance of the North African campaign. As far as we could determine, the unit was completely annihilated. The German High Command laid down their arms and surrendered on May 10th and the final count of prisoners exceeded 250,000. This completed the conquest of the African continent and placed the Allies in an advantageous position to launch their attacks on the mainland of Europe.

The Ninth Evac, meanwhile, stood by to receive patients. Along with the troops, five German field hospitals were trapped and had to surrender. The entire detachment of patients from these hospitals, nearly 900, were transferred to the Ninth Evac and for the time being, we acted as a German station hospital. Unlike previous prisoner patients, these "supermen" looked quite fatigued, exhausted and afraid. However, they were given excellent treatment, a fact which amazed most of them. They had been led to believe that the Americans wouldn't treat them as equals. But, soon we were on speaking terms with them which afforded us a most excellent opportunity to "educate" them into the American ways of life. This was done very often and it was a very common sight to see an American soldier discuss the political and international situation with a group of Germans. More often than not, these discussions wound up with the Germans admitting that perhaps Hitler wasn't the superman they thought he was. However, there still was a great many who were stubborn and stuck to their guns. Many of them were under the impression that Oran was still held by their own troops.

Our hospital consisted of approximately fifty barracks which housed all our wards, the operating rooms, x-ray, pharmacy, the various other services, and the living quarters of the officers, nurses and enlisted personnel. This was the first time since we left England that we were in buildings. The area itself was covered with all kinds of flowers and was very beautifully landscaped. It overlooked the main road to Tunis and Bizerte, and beyond that, Lake Achkel which was connected with the Mediterranean by Lake Bizerte. Other features of this area was a large recreation hall, shower room and open-air movie. A large German black cross was not painted white to coincide with our hospital insignia for some unknown reason.

The German prisoners and their medical officers were very much surprised to see the technique and methods of American surgery and were amazed at our excellent treatment of their wounded patients. The German General Staff, or what was left of them after the battle was over, spent a day at our hospital before going further back and also were very much impressed by our setup. Although most of the German boys were tired and wanted to go home, there were a few loyal Nazis who firmly believed that they would win the war. They always were alone by themselves as most of the German boys didn't talk with them. The majority were convinced that Allied production and equipment eventually would beat them.

City of Baths

Our retreat was orderly as we moved back to "previously prepared positions". On February 21st, we found a site a few miles east of Ain-Beida, about 40 miles northwest of Tebessa. As usual, we set up the hospital in the rain and mud. During this time, LIFE Magazine photographers took our pictures and subsequently in their April 26 issue published an article titled "Mud", featuring our unit. It rained for the three days it took us to set up the hospital and at the end of that time, an Allied communiqué announced that the Germans were stopped. On February 24th, just after we completed setting up the hospital, we packed and moved out, having handled slightly more than 100 patients during our short stay in "muddy hollow".

The Allied forces were reputed to be counter-attacking when we set up on February 25th at Souk-Ahras, the most beautiful spot we had seen in Africa up to that time. Situated between two mountains, a large tract of newly planted wheat fields ahead of us and a freshly-cut stretch of grassland to our rear, a high series of rocky mountains in the distance, and forestland all around, our hospital area reminded us of the exclusive hotels and country clubs back home. The rainy season was just about ending and with the end, large rainbows could be observed daily after each rain. This area was aptly named "Rainbow Valley" and "Pool's Paradise" in honor of the officer who first picked the site for the hospital area. The German breakthrough definitely was stopped and the Allies again were attacking, so after a brief spell of two weeks, during which we serviced the British First and Eighth Armies, we packed on March 11th and were off to the next area to handle the majority of the casualties resulting from the final offensive of the Allies to capture North Africa.

This time, bombed-out Youks les Bains was selected for our hospital and we set up quickly. 5,400 patients in five weeks came through our hospital, most of whom needed surgical treatment. As the front moved forward, our hospital was further away from the scene of operations and it was not uncommon for casualties to be transported over 200 miles before they were given secondary surgical treatment. The operating room was the hub of the hospital activity. The patients arrived in the operating room very soon after their arrival at the hospital and very often, they would be operated on and the very next day evacuated to another hospital in the rear. This was necessary because of the large amount of casualties arriving from the front.

The various links in the chain of medical units through which a soldier passed during the North Africa campaign were as follows: If he was wounded on the battlefield, he was first treated by a company aid man, a non-combatant medical soldier who went with the troops into battle unarmed. A clear bandage or perhaps some sulphanilimide was applied to the wound and litter bearers took him to a battalion aid station where the wound was cleaned or a splint applied if there were any broken bones. The wounded soldier then was transported to a clearing station where further treatment was given or, if the wound was not serious, sent back to duty. The various clearing stations evacuated their serious patients to a collecting station where the patient's condition was checked and he was then sent to an evacuation hospital, the last medical unit within the theater of operations and the first which actually performed surgery, such as operations, bone-setting, casts, amputations, etc. All of these movements took time. It was not uncommon for soldiers to ride twelve hours before they arrived at an evacuation hospital, tired, hungry, fatigued and weak. On arrival, the patient was taken into the Receiving Tent where we was examined by the Receiving Officer and his records checked. If the injury was serious, another team of surgical officers was called in on the case, he was x-rayed and taken to the operating room. It was not uncommon for a patient to be on the operating table within fifteen minutes after his arrival at the hospital. In addition to surgery, the evacuation hospital offered such facilities as dental care, eye, ear, nose and throat dispensary, a pharmacy, an elaborate x-ray section, medical consultations and an elastic system of expansion and contraction of the capacity of the beds depending on the type of cases handled. The evacuation hospital was expected to set up or tear down in eight hours, a remarkable time record in view of the many problems out in the field.

Its wide variety of services coupled with its closeness to front line action made the evacuation hospital the ideal medical unit for a fast moving army. Depending on the condition of the patient and the total amount of casualties, the patients who were expected to recover within 30 days were evacuated to a station or general hospital in the rear, where they could be given recuperative treatment and then sent back to duty. The seriously wounded and those not expected to recover within 90 days were eventually sent back to hospitals in the states.

The rains had ceased, the roads had been improved and the American Army began to move. The British Eighth Army began to move and broke through the Mareth Line as the American II Corps captured Gafsa. All of this made wonderful headlines but many American boys got hurt in the attempt. Over five thousand of them came through the Ninth Evacuation Hospital during that five-week period. Serious shrapnel, gun shot and shell fragment wounds, amputations and mine wounds represented most of the cases. The morale of the boys was on the decline although they were told that they were to be relieved shortly. This combined with the promise that the end was near was just a temporary change and when casualties began to mount late in March and early in April, they really were down in the dumps. Never before or since was their morale so low. However, the change of atmosphere in a quiet hospital helped them tremendously and the change in their physical appearance changed their mental makeup by that amount.

One of the main causes of the low morale of the American troops at this time was due to the many promises by their officers that the next hill would be the last before being relieved. This especially was true during and after the battle for the famous Hill 609. The boys who were fighting to capture that hill were promised that they would be relieved after taking it, but no sooner had they captured it after a long series of struggles, they were off to attack another series of hills. This repetition of false promises did a lot to lower the morale of the men and the respect of the men for their officers.

The personnel of the hospital were hard put to it to keep pace with the amount of patients who were being received. It was not an uncommon occurrence for the men attached to the operating room staff to work 36 hours without being relieved. But they did their chores cheerfully as they felt that the boys who were doing the fighting were at that time looking to them for help. The fine impressions which the medical department personnel made on the combat troops more than made up for the general impression that the medical soldier was a "goldbricker" and the boys of the Ninth Evac did a great deal to help change that impression. For many months thereafter, we received letters from former patients telling us of the wonderful work we did and thanking us for the help we gave them in returning them to health and duty.

Youks was an old Arab village, the site of the ancient Roman city famous for its baths. We took advantage of these modern conveniences as often as we could. In fact, soldiers for as much as fifty miles around came to Youks to clean up after living in mud and dirt for many months. However, the Americans seemed to be the only people to use the place. The natives didn't believe in washing. They knew that they would get dirty again.

The Jerries Are Coming!

The Battle of Tunisia began with the new year and the Ninth Evac was ordered to set up on January 23rd at 1 P.M. in the afternoon. By four o'clock, the hospital was ready and waiting for patients to arrive and that evening the first casualties to be admitted into an evacuation hospital were being treated twenty miles behind the front line.

The weather had slowed down the pace of the Allied armies and we realized the difficulties that our troops would have to encounter before defeating the enemy. Wind, rain and snow made living conditions inside the tents unbearable. Life at the front must have been horrible. There was no coal to heat the stoves in Africa during those days, so we had to go up into the hills and chop down the trees which were then cut into smaller pieces. It was a familiar sight to see the personnel of the hospital sawing and chopping in their spare time and it was a more familiar sight to observe the personnel of the operating room run out into the hills between operations to get enough wood to heat the tent for the next case.

Enemy reconnaissance planes "visited" us daily and snapped our pictures but evidently, they were convinced that we were operating a legitimate non-combatant unit as we never were attacked.

The first serious cases of the Tunisian campaign began arriving late in January and it was here where we were given our first opportunity to speak to the boys who were doing the real fighting. Any attempt to follow the true course of the fighting by piecing together the information that the boys brought back would have been quite foolish since each soldier saw only that particular section of the front on which he was fighting. But the morale and spirit of the boys were reflected in the remarks they made coming through the Receiving tent or just before they were given anesthesia on the operating table. A few of their comments might be worth mentioning.

The Allies were being pushed back but the spirit of the boys was very high. Their opinion of the British fighting soldier wasn't very high however. The majority of our boys stated that the Americans would take an objective, give it to the British to hold and then, in a few days, have to retake it because the Tommies were unable to hold it. No doubt, the British had the same comments to make about the American soldier. Those were the days before the other British Army, the Eighth, showed the rest of the world what courage and bravery really meant. The general consensus of opinion among the fighting American soldiers was that the battle for Tunisia would end with an Allied victory by the end of February. Our boys still were green and thought that the experiences they encountered during their training period and on maneuvers were sufficient to defeat the hardened and experienced German Afrika Corps. The usual remark from a patient just before he was given anesthesia was, "I am more scared now than I was when I was sweating out those 88's". That was before the Medical Corps convinced even the American soldiers that we had the greatest surgeons in the world in the American army.

The junction of the veteran Afrika Corps with Von Arnim's command in Tunisia permitted the enemy to launch offensive strokes against the lightly held portions of the Allied line. On February 14th, enemy artillery and infantry broke through at Kasserine Pass. By the afternoon of February 21st, the Axis forces had advanced an armored thrust 21 miles beyond the pass, threatening Tebessa Pass, the Allied position in central Tunisia, and last but not least, the Ninth Evacuation Hospital which was directly situated between the oncoming German legions and the retreating American Army.

The boys who arrived at our hospital during this period blamed their officers for the sad plight of the front line troops. Their inexperience and inability to think under fire resulted in the loss of life of many American boys. The so-called "90-day wonders" were not the leaders that the O.C.S. schools had hoped. One of the explanations for the German break through at Kasserine was offered by one of our patients, a member of the 9th Division Cannon Company. It seems that a British tank unit was protecting the right flank of this company and when the Germans started the attack, it was ordered to move back. However, it failed to notify the commanding officer of the cannon company. As a result, practically all of the men of this unit were wiped out when the Germans attacked from the right.

There were many stories of lack of coordination between outfits at the front. The 39th Infantry Regiment came up to relieve the 47th (9th Division), but the commanding officer of the latter wasn't notified. During one night, the 39th came up and at dawn, were within two hundred yards of the 47th. Orders to fire were issued and it was only the quick thinking of the commanding officer of the 47th that saved his unit from being wiped out. Stories of American planes strafing American troops marching on the road, and anti-aircraft units shooting at Allied planes were quite numerous during the campaign. But in time, the coordination and efficiency of identification was perfected and the Allies rolled on to eventual victory.

At 5 P.M. on February 20th, German artillery fire could be heard in the distance and the Ninth Evac was ordered to evacuate all their patients and get out as fast as possible. That morning, we could see hundreds of planes moving back to airfields in the rear, the roads were filled with convoys coming back from the front and, as far as we knew, three large pieces of field artillery separated us from General Rommel and his gang.

We worked the entire night evacuating patients (600), packing, pulling down tents, and wondering whether we might be guests of the German Army for breakfast the next morning. Most of us, however, did not realize at the time that the enemy was so near. By 5 A.M., we were ready to leave. Meanwhile, further in the rear, the truckdrivers who had worked the two full days previous, were informed that the Ninth Evac had to be moved, but there were no fresh truckdrivers available. Volunteers were requested to offer their services and at about 11 A.M., the first group of "life-savers" arrived in the hospital area. However, there weren't enough trucks to take care of all of the equipment and personnel (the nurses had already left the previous night). About 100 had to remain behind until the following day.

Their tents torn down, a very cold wind blowing, rain clouds approaching and the German Army ten miles away travelling at a rapid pace, these 100 men had plenty about which to think when they went to sleep that night. Except for the rumble of artillery fire in the distance, however, nothing happened that night to disturb their sleep. The following morning at about nine o'clock, several trucks pulled into the area and the rest of the unit happily climbed aboard. As they left the site of the first set-up of the hospital, they could see the German tanks in the distance and several hours later (we were told), bullets from German machine guns fire and shells strafed the area. The Germans were so confident of pushing forward that, later in the day, several German M.P.s drove into Tebessa to direct traffic. They were easily taken prison by some of our soldiers.

History has proven that the Germans were stopped at a point very close to the exact spot where the Ninth Evac had lived for about one month, approximately half way between Kasserine and Tebessa.

Troop Train Trip

A special correspondent of the New York Times described our trip in a special dispatch to his paper in highly dramatic language which looked thrilling in print and made heroes of us, but the real story does not make such good copy.

January 14th found us in Tlemcen station waiting for our "Pullman" to arrive. While awaiting our transportation, we had an opportunity to observe the famous "40 and 8" railway cars which the French made popular during the last war. However, this time, the cars were filled only with soldiers, mostly Arabs -- filthy, poorly clothed, unfed. Our train arrived and we climbed aboard. We had first class accommodations for our eventful trip. The passenger cars were similar to those we used in England, with small compartments seating eight persons. This time, six of us were assigned to each compartment. And in addition, into each compartment were pushed barracks bags, field packs, gas masks, hand bags and other military and civilian paraphernalia. Needless to say, our sleeping quarters weren't the most comfortable in the world. A general description of our bedroom compartment follows: Soldier A slept with his head on one seat, his body slung across a barracks bag on the floor and his feet on the opposite seat; Soldier B slept doubled up on the remainder of the first seat; Soldier C did the same on the opposite seat; Soldiers D and E slept high on the baggage side of the racks close to the ceiling with their feet dangling over the side of the rack or out the window; Soldier F was the most comfortable of all, he sleeping on the floor, or that part of the floor which wasn't occupied by baggage. If, during the night, any one of those wished to answer the call of nature, five other soldiers had to be awakened and forced to accompany him out of the compartment. Needless to say, after the first night, all calls of nature were answered by the $64 question before we went to sleep.

Our trip really was thrilling. The train averages about five miles per hour downhill, and often we would travel a few miles and then wait on a side-track for some cattle car to pass. Five hundred miles in five days might have been enjoyable to those ancient Arabs of Algeria but it seemed just a bit too slow to boys anxiously going to the front. This one-track railway was the main artery of supply during the entire North African campaign.

Leaving Tlemcen, the train climbed up into the Atlas Mountains overlooking the steep canyons, magnificent waterfalls and beautiful landscape of the only picturesque spot in North Africa. These scenes reminded us of the Rocky Mountains in the states. We bypassed Oran, traveled across the plains of Algeria through Sidi bel Abbes, Setif, Algiers and finally Constantine. Every time the train stopped, which was more often than Mrs. Roosevelt's stopovers, we were besieged by men, women and children with their usual cry, "bon bon, shokolot, souvenir". The tangerine and date stands did a land office business at these stopovers. At first, our kitchen prepared the meals, but because of a lack of a definite schedule and a temperamental motorman, we were forced to eat most of our meals out of G.I. cans. Breakfast, dinner and supper consisted of corned beef, salmon, hard tack, spam and water, all cold. The main sport of the boys on board were card games, letter-writing and whistling at the gals whom we passed. (We knew that General Lear wasn't in the vicinity).

At 1 A.M. on January 18th, we arrived on Constantine, and after receiving directions to our bivouac area, we hiked under a romantically full moon, through the streets of Constantine and three miles up into the hills, were we set up the nurses' tents and put them to bed before we fell on our own blankets at 4 A.M.

When we awoke early the next morning, we were pleasantly surprised to see that we were bivouacked high in the hills above the city. The town itself is situated on two very steep hills separated by a deep ravine, 700 feet above the swirling river below. Built in honor of the great Roman emperor, Constantine was a dirty town although it must have been quite beautiful before the war. Although a prosperous town during peacetime, it was devoid of anything to purchase, another grim reminded that our German "komerads" had been there before.

A great privilege was bestowed upon the members of the 9th Evac by the commanding officer of the French garrison stationed there. We were permitted to take a shower in their barracks. This consisted of "soaping" for two minutes and "washing down" for another two.

Our stay in Constantine was short and soon we were on our way by truck convoy to our sector for front line duty, after being warned to be on the alert for enemy planes which were scheduled to attack us. As usual, the trip was uneventful and we arrived at our assigned location, Tebessa, an old Arab town, the site of an ancient Roman civilization, about twenty miles from the Tunisian border. We pitched our tents high in the hills and camouflaged everything but the trees themselves while waiting for the "go ahead" signal to pick a site and go to work. It didn't take long because two days later, we were putting up our first hospital, the first evacuation unit to set up for the Tunisian campaign. The Ninth Evac finally was at work.

Sweating It Out

On terra firma once more, we immediately were confronted by children of all forms and shapes yelling that famous welcome call heard round the world: "Heh, Johnnie, cigarettes, shokolot, bon bon". We walked the length of the pier, on which was erected a long wall built in 1940 to honor those Frenchmen who had lost their lives when the British Air Force attacked the French Navy in the harbor of Oran. It was difficult for the French people to forget that action. In fact, their good memory made it tougher for the first wave to invade Oran. In error, an Allied battleship, which was flying the British flag instead of an American one, was fired upon, and 800 American boys on board lost their lives. The American cemetery in Oran tells a more picturesque story.

We walked the length of Mers-el-Kebir to Oran, five miles away, and then another ten miles to our bivouac area. The fatigue of the hike was forgotten when we had an opportunity to observe the ways and actions of these so-called "uncivilized" people from Africa. To our surprise and amazement, many of them had civilized habits and word civilized and conventional modes of dress. The women wore attractive print dresses and small hats which were the vogue in New York the previous spring. The men's suits caught many a G.I. eye as they passed by. It was here that we first saw that famous Arab with a spotlessly clean towel wrapped around his head in turban fashion and a snow-white sheet around his body. His undergarments and body, however, seemed as if they hadn't been washed since the last war.

Between Mers-el-Kebir and Oran stands an engineering accomplishment of which Americans could well be proud, a tunnel through the mountains which reminds the New Yorker of the Holland Tunnel. Our bivouac area was a former Arab farm, full of broken glass and chinaware. Needless to says, we policed the area, a habit which the native population could not understand. Perhaps they thought that we were trying to look for something. But, they know that we could never find anything of value in Africa.

After two good days of fair weather, we were introduced to the African rainy season which was not mentioned in the booklet we had received on the boat. It rained continuously for one whole week, during which we improved on the Army system of tent-pitching and drainage. When we dried off, we visited the town of Oran, then just changing over from the German to the American way of doing business, namely, taking articles rather than paying for them. The Arabs, however, also had "taking" ways. From early childhood, they had been taught to steal. In fact, we had quite a time with them at the American cemetery in Oran. A guard had to be stationed there day and night to prevent the Arabs from stealing the blankets which were wrapped around the dead. One evening, the commanding officer of the guard gave orders to shoot anyone who was seen prowling around the cemetery at night. The next morning, 18 Arabs were found dead in the cemetery. The Arabs understood that language. The guards were never bothered again.

Hotel Continental was the main exclusive eating place in Oran where an excellent meal could be purchased for one dollar. Hot showers were available for 20 cents only after waiting in line for three hours. It was difficult to purchase any goods in town as we soon realized that the Germans had been there and had taken everything with them. This was Oran during the early days of the North African campaign.

Later in the year, we moved to an Arab town five miles southeast of Oran, Tafaruie, which was situated near La Senia airport, the first large airfield taken by the Americans after they captured Oran. It was at this airport where Germans had armed their French prisoners before they fled and instructed them to resist the Americans. Instead, the French soldiers shot their former captors as they attempted to leave the field. Rain and more rain made it necessary for us to perfect a better drainage and rainproof tent system than the army had taught us. The various experiments which we attempted during these early days served us in good stead when the rainy season arrived the following month. It was here where American airpower began to have itself felt on the enemy. Day and night, formations of bombers and fighters continually filled the skies, a fact which bolstered our morale to a very great extent.

The greatest morale-builder of them all, mail from home, began to arrive late in December and once more we had contact with "the outside world". Christmas was slowly approaching and as a Yuletide gift, we were permitted to send a letter home which was guaranteed to arrive in New York before Christmas Day. It actually arrived on January 19th, one week after our cable which we sent in November. Those were the days when communication facilities were at a premium.

One of the more pleasant memories of Africa was the picturesque scene of the setting sun descending over a nearby hill, with an occasional Arab silhouetted against the sky sitting on and kicking his donkey, and with the moon and stars brilliantly shining in the other part of the sky. It reminded me of the Christmas cars with the Star of Bethlehem in the distance.

Christmas Day found us perched between an ancient Arab and a modern French town near the Moroccan border, the latter famous as a resort during peacetime. Its official name was Tlemcen. The Arab village was called Saf Saf. We were treated most cordially by its citizens who supplied us with the French version of "short snorts". This area was characterized by its mud, rain and snow. It rained without a break for seventeen days, and then it snowed before the sun came out some time in January. It was a strange sensation for many a G.I., who had been training under a hot Florida sun for over a year, to dig himself out of a pup-tent which was completely covered with snow. During this time, however, these were no cases of illness among the men, a most amazing condition. We were convinced that the injections which we had received had a great deal to do with the health of the troops during these miserable days. Most of the day (and night) was spent bailing out the trenches around our tents as the heavy rains were more than enough for the drainage systems which we thought originally to be sufficient. Between the bailing out periods, we built stone walks, dug latrines through solid rock, built roads, pitched ward tents and tried to peg them into solid stone, a project which was not very successful.

New Year's Eve was spent in our pup-tents huddled under six blankets, several sets of underwear, uniforms and overcoats, thinking of the days when a New Year's Eve party was an event rather than a memory. Originally set up (we thought) to handle casualties in the event of a German surprise attach through Spain and into Africa, we had very little work to do and, for the time being, we were "sweating out" a call to the front. This "sweating out" period ended when, in early January 1943, we were ordered to tear down and crate for our trip into the theater of operations. This was accomplished during another rainy spell, after which time, for two weeks of very beautiful weather, we waited for our transportation to arrive.

The American Army had met resistance for the first time and we realized that we would have a difficult job to wrest the remainder of Africa from the enemy. Although we knew that the future was going to be difficult and dangerous, there was no one who did not look forward to that memorable trip to the front. Our spirits were high and our morale excellent. The Ninth Evac was ready.

The Lights Go On Again In Oran

On the morning of November 10th, we arrived in Newport, Wales, where, tied to the dock was a former New Zealand freighter, the Rangtiki. The morning newspapers, for the first time, told of the landings of the Allied forces in Africa. We then realized that we were destined for the "dark continent". We were assigned to the "royal suite" on the boat, the hold in the front part of the ship. This was a choice location from the sightseeing point of view, but whenever a wave hit the ship, we recieved a cold salt water shower. In spite of this and other disadvantages, conditions aboard ship were far better than those on the Marnix. The food was fairly good, show was served on plates, and hot soup was on the menu every day. In addition, we were permitted to purchase various edibles from the PX, a situation which made us wonder why this food was not served during the regular meals.

We were, as far as we could ascertain, the back end of that now-famous 850 ship convoy which made the original landings in Africa, coming in on the third wave of the four wave convoy. The trip was highlighted, in addition to the usual card and crap games on board, by an amateur show featuring the talents of the Army Medical and Air Corps. We learned that the cream of the crop of the American war correspondents were on board, namely, Ernie Pyle of the Scripps-Howard Newspapers, Gault MacGowan of the New York Sun, and many others. This trip, as well as the entire North African campaign was described by all the correspondents in their daily columns, and was mentioned in Pyle's later book, "Here Is Your War." One of the most picturesque sights we had the pleasure of observing was a double rainbow which surrounded the whole convoy like a frame around a picture.

The day before we passed through the Straits of Gibraltar was a hectic one in the annals of the German submarine service. The German Navy announced that it was waiting for the rest of the convoy which was expected to come through the Straits that night. Thankful for the information, we sailed out into the Atlantic again and waited one full day for the Allied air forces to take care of the subs. The next day, an allied communique announced the sinking of 23 subs off Gibraltar. We then passed through the Straits of Gibraltar very confident but ignorant of the fact that a torpedo passed in front of the ship and missed it by only a few feet. The following morning, the crew told us of the concussion caused by the torpedo which resulted in throwing them from their hammocks. For the first time since we left the states, we saw that night, a city which was not blacked out -- Tangier -- all lit up like a Christmas tree.

On board ship, we were given an introdcution to what we could expect when we landed. A booklet called "A Soldier's Guide to North Africa" was issued to us, and it described out future surroundings, its people and their customs and habits. We later realized that the author of the booklet must have had a bad nightmare while writing the article, as future events didn't quite bear him out. Such bits o advice as "Eat only part of the first course", "Never smoke or spit in front of a mosque", "Don't offer Muslims any meat", "Don't look at native women", "It never rains in Africa", and many others, made interesting reading but never proved practical. We also were issued such summer necessities as mosquito cream, sun and dust glasses, and water sterilizers as a precaution against the disease and filth characteristic of the dark continent. These later proved slightly more useful than the booklet.

On the evening of November 21st, we sailed into the harbor of Mers-el-Kebir, a natural water base situated five miles from Oran. Oran itself could be seen from the boat, the lights in the city once again reminding us that we still had many more lights to rekindle before we would complete our mission. The following morning, we set foot upon the continent of Africa, happy to be part of the invading forces which were to drive the Axis from Africa.

There Will Always Be An England (Part II)

Although synonymous with wartime England, total blackouts were unusual to us "sophisticated" Americans. At first it was strange for us to walk along the streets at night or to ride on a blacked-out bus but in time we got used to the idea. In fact, many of the boys found the blackout quite advantageous.

We were very much impressed by the British people, particularly their women. Although the strain of war had an effect on their facial expressions and outward appearances, and their clothes weren't exactly "this year's style", their spirit was high and their morale excellent. That famous pride of the English people, exemplifying Churchill's "blood, sweat and tears", immediately earned our respect for these brave people who had refused to give up when they had their backs up against the wall. I often wondered how the American people would have reacted under the same series of circumstances. Although, during our first few days in Oxford, these people appeared cold and unfriendly, we began to realize that that was part of their physical makeup. However, after a few weeks, they warmed up to us and, as time went on, they became most hospitable and treated us royally. We, at least, had made a very good impression on them.

The morals of the English girls, just like all the others with whom we met before and since, were very low. Perhaps they were swept off their feet by the fast-talking and faster-moving Americans, or it might be that they felt that they were doing their part in the war by being "nice" to the soldiers. Whatever were their reasons, they surprised even the American boys by their loose morals. A story is told concerning an American soldier stationed with the British Eighth Army who also spent some time in England before being sent to Africa. He was bragging to his English buddies one day, about how much he got out of a certain married woman with whom he was very friendly, a Mrs.. John Wells. After recounting his love affairs with this woman, during which he described his "intimate relations" with her, a shot rang out and the American dropped with a bullet through his head. A moment later, John Wells killed himself with a bullet from the same gun.

In spite of these unfortunate incidents, there were other friendships established. Some of the boys were fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of several fine people in town and a few were invited to a get-together consisting of "nice English girls" and American soldiers at Rhodes House, Oxford University. Several were later invited to a Halloween party given by a group of girls of one of the colleges and long and lasting friendships were started which were continued by correspondence for many years thereafter. It was interesting to note at the time that, in spite of the hardships and sacrifices that the people evidently were making for their country, the theatres and the movie houses always were filled, and long lines (queues) of patient customers waited for hours before every performance. Men and women in uniform, however, especially Americans, were given preference over civilians.

The English newspapers are quite different from ours in that the headline consists of one or two words and quite often has no connection with the particular story which appears under it. Stories of local color rather than of international interest cover the front pages. Editorials and commentaries seem to occupy as much space as do the daily news events.

A one-day pass to London enabled us to see the interesting and historical highlights of the city -- St. Paul's Cathedral, The House of Commons, the Palace, London Bridge, Piccadilly Circus, the "underground", etc. Of course we viewed the areas which had been bombed during the trying days of 1940. The British people, however, were rebuilding for a bigger and better England, and plans were being formulated at that time to build a new city of London after the war. The London "underground" was much more comfortable than the New York subways in that the seats were made of plush, mirrors for the convenience of passengers were appropriately placed in conspicuous corners, and the general appearance of each car made for a more social atmosphere among the passengers. And even though the subways always were crowded, there was never the "rush" scenes which are characteristic of New York.

The British Eighth Army early in October stopped the German advance across Africa and began an offensive of their own which was to take them all the way across North Africa and into Europe. The newspaper headlines screamed "Rommel Pushed Back" and "We Attack", and the English people began to smile.

There were no enemy raids on Oxford and it was explained by the townspeople that an agreement had been made with Germany whereby neither country would bomb each others university towns. This, however, did not refrain from bombing such cities as Coventry, Swindon and Canterbury. We did see great numbers of Allied Planes pass overhead quite often and we knew that some axis city was going to be "visited". The newspapers the next day usually completed the story -- "Milan Bombed" or "Turin Wrecked".

That was England during the period between "blood, sweat and tears" and "all-out offensive". On November 8th, the day of the initial landings on African shores by the allied armies, we were ordered to pack, and the next evening, we were on our way from Slade Camp and Oxford, sorry to leave the friendly confines of our British cousins, for whom, in the short space of five weeks, we acquired a great respect and admiration.

There Will Always Be An England! (Part 1)

Our feet once again on terra firma, we felt much relieved. The railroad station from which we left was conveniently situated next to the dock. While waiting for our train to arrive, we were given an opportunity to observe the English railroads in action. Their freight cars do not seem much smaller than ours, but actually theirs have a capacity of only 25% of the American cars – 10 tons. The English passenger cars are quite unusual, being divided into small rooms called compartments, each compartment seating eight passengers. At one side of the compartment is a door leading to a long hallway which extends the whole length of the car. On the other side of the compartment is an exit door which opens from the outside. This is a much more comfortable mode of travel than that of the American passenger coach as it is conducive to more sociability among the passengers.

We were warned to keep the lights out in the compartment and to refrain from throwing cigarettes out of the windows. However, to our surprise, we noticed that the fire from the locomotive completely lit up the surrounding country as the train sped across the countryside. We made our first stop just over the border separating Scotland from England where we were initiated into the English custom of taking time out for “a spot of tea”, a habit which we never willingly adopted. Every time the train came to a halt, we attempted to ascertain from the people outside our exact whereabouts but to our regret, we never received any satisfactory answer. The English people realized only too well that “idle gossip sinks ships”. At 8 A.M. on October 8th, we arrived in Oxford station convinced that we were quite fortunate to be given the opportunity to visit that famous University town. Driven by bus through the city and to Slade Camp, we arrived in the usual English mist, fog and rain just in time to eat the British soldier’s breakfast consisting of salt pork, potatoes, oatmeal, rye bread and of course, tea.

Slade Camp was an English staging area and training camp, housing about fifty one-room barracks, each containing fifteen wooden beds, straw mattresses and pillows, a coal stove in the middle of the room (which usually emitted more smoke than heat), no running water facilities, a separate room for non-commissioned officers, dim lights and wooden shutters which acted as a substitute for blackout curtains. One of the brighter features of the camp was their version of our PX, a combination tea room, snack bar, theatre and night club called NAAFI (Navy, Army, Air Force Institute), which sold refreshments to the soldiers at very nominal prices (Tea: 2 cents. Cookies: 4 cents. Sandwiches: 6 cents). This feature proved more appealing when we learned that several attractive young ladies were employed there as waitresses. Travelling vaudeville shows and local talent performed weekly and dances were held for us and the boys of the 29th Division who, twenty months later, contributed to make the original invasion of France a success.

Calisthenics and hikes were the daily activities, but due to the compensatory amusement which we later found during the evenings, there was a usual paucity of complaints during our stay in Slade Camp. In fact, the “unusual” among army men occurred when we actually looked forward to our daily hikes. Perhaps, the reason why we enjoyed them so much was the fact that they were conducted over the suburban hills and dales of Oxford, most of which were owned by the University of Oxford and which were used in peacetime as “Lovers’ Lanes”. The contrast between the English countryside during time of war, with 30-ton tanks roaming the hills and Spitfires and gliders filling the sky, and the same picturesque scenes which we imagined typical of peacetime England, will forever remain in our memories.

At first, it was difficult to adjust our financial dealings to the English monetary system. The pound was fixed at four dollars in American money, the shilling at 20 cents and the penny at six for ten cents. Since the banks could get $4.02 for each pound, they made a slight profit on the exchange in the New York money market.

After setting up our barracks, we were given an opportunity to visit Oxford, which we did post haste. A bus terminal was located just outside the camp, about a fifteen minute walk from our barracks. It took only fifteen minutes to reach the center of town, Carfax, a busily-trafficked, well-populated business and entertainment district. Larger than most American towns, Oxford looks exactly like and English city an American would expect to find after reading about the English people and their country. Dotted with many movie and show houses (cinemas), stores, banks and business offices, Oxford was still “open for business” for the college student. The English rations which we received weren’t sufficient for our tremendous appetites, so every evening we went to town and consumed an additional supper, which also was insufficient. The English people were sacrificing and tightening their belts for the boys who were fighting on foreign lands. The English bars, called “pubs”, unlike our own, catered to the family trade and it wasn’t uncommon on a Saturday night for whole families to spend the entire evening sipping a few scotches and talking with the American soldiers. As a matter of fact, it was in the pubs that the Americans got to learn a great deal about the English, and vice versa.

Memories

Five P.M. on September 23, 1942 terminated for us the temporary period of army life glamour and began the more sober interlude of a soldier's life during time of war. We were alerted for overseas duty! That night consisted of a series of short naps and interruptions; dog tags were checked, new equipment and impregnated uniforms distributed, passports and identification cards issues and sailing instructions and regulations read. We didn't need a bugle to wake us up the next morning at 5 A.M. After breakfast and the last minute rush and confusion of packing and moving, we lined up in front of our barracks and began that never-to-be-forgotten hike to the train, which was to takes us to the boat. Our barracks tags seemed to get heavier as we walked that last mile to the station.

The scenes along the way left a vivid impression upon our minds as we boarded the train. We had heard and had seen in the movies stories about the departure of the troops during the last war and marvelled at their spirit. But here we were, going through the same experiences never once realizing the real import of the situation. The people along the way seemed to sense that we were going overseas. Crying women, excited children and sober-looking me lined the tracks trying to do their bit to make us cognizant of the fact that they appreciated our predicament. They seemed to realize exactly what was in store for us. We however, had become celebrities and heroes overnight and seemed to enjoy our newly-acquired glory and honor.

But the novelty quickly wore off. Our train reached Jersey City and we were ferried across to the Fourteenth Street Pier in New York. The so-called "shake-down inspection" which we expected and which was so publicized was lacking, however. We climbed aboard a 19,000-ton Dutch boat, the Marnix Van Sint Aldegonde, which already was practically overflowing with soldiers. "Marnix" is a Dutch word meaning memories. The boat seemed to have been named just for us.

The low point of our army life up to that time arrived when we were escorted to our "suite", a room which formally contained eight cabins and two lavatories. There we were, over 300 strong (or weak), being introduced to troopship life with the following statement by a transport officer: "Fellows, this is where you will eat, sleep and provide your own entertainment for the balance of your trip". Our hearts sunk. We often had read of the crowded conditions aboard troopships, but we never expected such an initiation into our life overseas.

We remained in New York harbor the 24th and 25th, with Staten Island to our left and Coney Island's Half Moon Hotel to our right, only a stone's throw away. On the morning of the 26th, with the rest of the convoy which had come into line during the night, we sailed past the Statue Of Liberty and left the "land of the free" with tears in our eyes and aching pains in our hearts. We were beginning to realize what America really meant to Americans.

On September 28th, we dropped anchor in Halifax harbor which was filled with British and American troopships, including the old liner Manhattan. We recieved further instructinons, took on water and continued on our way. This stopover was a second heartbreak for a group of fifty men who only a week before were inducted into the army and who were erroneously sent to the boat instead of a train. They had appealed to land in Halifax since their presence was obviously a mistake, but since no new instructions had arrived, no one was permitted to leave the ship.

The food on board ship was atrocious, something about which the less said the better. We ate from our own messkits and cleaned them off with cold salt water. All the food had a disgustingly fishy smell and taste, most of which was left over after each meal. The only decent food was stale bread and strong English tea. As a result, we bought most of our meals, which consisted of Pepsi-Cola and Hershey bars, at the ship's PX.

Although hammocks had been provided for sleeping accomodations, many of the boys who did not prefer "swinging in the hammocks" slept on the floor, on deck, in the lounge rooms, or any other place where there was floor space. The nightly odor of human bodies was replaced during the day by stale fish odors. The only fresh air was out on deck, but this too was crowded since everybody stood there as long as they could. The less-crowded, roomier decks were reserved for the officers and nurses.

The gambling element aboard ship kept the boys interested day and night with crap and card games running around the clock. The boys with the dough did manage to get good food and pleasant sleeping accomodations from the ship's crew. Even on board a troop ship during time of war, money seemed to talk. Evidently, the "goodies" were being saved by the members of the crew just for that purpose.

Our convoy, as far as we could see, consisted of about twenty ships. Each boat seemed to have a definite position in the convoy pattern and every few minutes each ship would change its course without changing its position, just in case a German submarine was within accurate torpedo range. We later read that we were part of the largest convoy to go to England up to that time. Our protection consisted of a light cruiser and several destroyers and corvettes. The trip was uneventful except for a radio report from Berlin stating that our ship had been torpedoed and sunk.

On October 7th, we sighted the rocky hills of North Ireland, then the peaceful Firth of Forth and finally, the river Clyde, featured by its beautiful green landscaping and the hundreds of shipyards lining the waterfront. We docked at noon in Glasgow harbor and debarked, happy to be on land once more.

Preface

The adventures of a soldier in the states during wartime are a far cry from his life overseas. Much has been written about the soldiers' experience in the induction station, reception center and training camp, and of the grandeur and glory of the uniform in the states, but the general public knows very little of the life of the soldier overseas.

The writer has been in a very fortunate position to observe and speak to the overseas soldier. He was a member of a medical unit which actively participated in the North African, Sicilian, Italian, French and German campaigns. His particular job enabled him to speak to and care for many boys who were front line casualties, and he thereby acquired information and human interest stories from the boys who did the actual fighting. The Ninth Evacuation Hospital seemed to represent the Grand Central Station of the North African Army, as through its tents passed 70% of the battle casualties of the entire campaign. It represented a cross-section of public opinion of the American overseas army during 1943. During 1944 and 1945, it represented the opinion of the various armies allied with ours on the Continent. Truly, it served as the Gallup Poll of the Army of the United States and its allies for three years.

December 7, 1941 found this soldier, like the rest of the country, asleep at the switch. The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor began a swift series of experiences which radically changed our lives. Draft board interviews, physical examinations, induction notices and actual induction started the change. The lightning-like travels through the induction center, reception center and training camp sped up the change. In two months, the writer was transformed from a peace-loving, ostrich-like citizen to an experienced soldier ready to serve his country on foreign shores.

This story describes solely the American soldiers' experiences overseas.