In August 1944, we were in a mortar position in France. It was about 4
o'clock, being the time we usually selected the guard for the night. I was
chosen.
I must explain how guard duty worked. If you were chosen for guard, you were
never put on guard the next night. It reduced chances of danger. The guard post
was out in front of the area, in an exposed position at a distance of about 100
yards. The post was located near a wooden shack of about one room size. I did not
like the position and was apprehensive the whole night. Nothing happened.
About the same time the next day, German mortar fire landed close by, one
shell obliterating the shack where I was the night before. I was glad I was on
guard the night before. When the guard was chosen for the second night, my squad
sergeant chose me again. I was the least of his favorites. I told him I was not
going because I had been on guard the night before and to get someone else. He
said, "You're on" and turned on his heel. For some reason, I had a shovel in my
hand.
When he turned away, I came down with the shovel toward his head. The shovel
stopped half-way down in mid air. The first thing that struck me as strange was
that there were no trees to entangle it anywhere near. Then I turned around and
saw the cause. It was the hand of the platoon sergeant. It was he who grabbed the
shovel on the way down. He said, "What's going on here?" I told him my squad
sergeant had put me on guard again, after being on the night before. He asked
"Joe" if this was true. He stammered and fumbled and finally said, "Yes". The
platoon sergeant, much to my relief, said "Put someone else on".
From then on I had two enemies, the Germans and my squad sergeant. Also, he
spoke to me only through an interpreter concerning matters of the squad, never,
ever directly to me. This little mind game went on for about 3 weeks. After a
while, it was beginning to get to me. Luck was with me on the 'guard' thing,
although nothing happened to either one of us. Luck would play a real good part
in the upcoming event with "Joe".
The way the squad worked - the squad was in the field 8 days and in the rest
area 4 days. This put us in harm's way twice as many days. We thought it would be
better to be out in the field and rest area 4 days each. This meant cutting the
squad from 8 men to 4. We were glad to put out the extra effort for the extra
rest. Even with 4 men we were just as efficient. For one reason, we were not in
each other's way. We asked for volunteers so as not to offend anyone and no one
volunteered, I saw this as a good opportunity to get away from "Joe", so I
definitely volunteered. After that, others did, a bigger number from "Joe's"
squad than any other. He didn't like it.
After we were assembled in our respective squads, we now had to decide who
went on rest first and who stayed in the field. We all were in the field 8 days
and now had to decide who went in for a rest and who stayed out because the ones
who had to stay would spend 12 consecutive days in the field instead of 8 in
order to inaugurate the system. We decided to draw straws. "Joe" got a short one.
I won again.
When it came time to leave for the rest area and just as the Jeeps were
running and about to pull out, I stood up on the back seat and hollered, "Hey,
"Joe". When I caught his eye, I waved coyly and said, "Bye, "Joe". He slowly
caught fire and burned to a crisp. I wonder how many little private wars went on
alongside the public big one. "Joe" and his friends never spoke to me again. It's
funny, the Germans finally gave up, but "Joe" never did.
Art Pranger
(3/29/98)
