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.

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.

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.