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| WWII Memoir (Part 2) |
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The conclusion of Part 1. . . After the fight at Struth we met very little resistance. We didn’t encounter much of anything other than small arms fire. I don’t remember firing a shot from there to war’s end. We didn’t get another chance to get a break from action until we met the Russian Army at the Enns River, in Enns, Austria, and end the war. After first word of Germany’s surrender I just couldn’t wait for the chance of finding Harsila asleep. When that opportunity came I “borrowed” his tactics, went to his bed, shook him good, and loudly said, “Harsila, WAKE UP, whatcha dooo-ing, SLEEPING? He raised up half angry, half asleep with the words, “Why the dickens are you waking me up”? My reply was “you told us many times to wake you up when the war was over, well it’s over, and I just carried out our orders.” That brought on a round of laughter and memories.
At last we now had the opportunity to raid our company trucks, looking for our personal belongings. To my surprise there was the violin I had bartered cigarettes for during the battle for Metz. Actually I had forgotten about it. For the first time I opened the case and was surprised to find a radio program sheet (written in German) and dated for the day before the battle for Metz began. Obviously the Frenchman had stolen the violin from the German controlled radio station during the battle. I had an Austrian carpenter make a shipping crate for me to ship the violin to Anna. When I sent it off it came back to me next day labeled, REFUSED, LOOT. I removed the tag and replaced it with a tag reading, “being sent to the U.S. for repairs.” That did the job, and Anna received it about three weeks later.
Though war was over, my return back to good old U.S.A. was far away. I wouldn’t have enough points to get out of military service until March 1946. The one thing that always haunted my memory was the first time I saw our battle being hauled away for burial. They were (as usual) packed tightly onto an open top truck, only this time they were placed head-to-toe in horizontal position six layers deep with blankets between layers. I cannot describe the feeling that came over me at that sight and has never fully left me during all these years. With the fighting over we were assigned peacetime duty. I was placed in military police in Enns, and was on duty on June 6 when I looked around to see who was calling my name. To my surprise there was my brother, Bill. His commanding officer had located me through military channels and brought him to spend ten days with me in Enns. His outfit at war’s end was locater in Steyr, Austria, about forty miles from Enns. The ten days Bill was with me passed faster than any other Army period of time I had known. Before his commanding officer came to get him, I gave Bill the P=38 pistol I had taken from the German officer in Mulhousen, so he would have a war trophy to take back to the U.S.A. This worked out fine, because Bill had not had an opportunity to get a trophy due to the nature of his Army position (a cook in combat Engineers). I happened to have two such trophies, and we had been warned, only ONE item such as side arms or other firearms would be allowed to go through U.S. customs.
One day when I was on guard at a road checkpoint I halted a motorcycle that appeared to be operated by a local civilian. However when examining his credentials I realized they were fake. His permit was signed by an American Army Major, with the rank preceding his name. Also the permit was written on a German typewriter. I shook him down (searched for weapons) then took him into headquarters where he was identified as a “MOST WANTED” if the Nazi regime.
Soon after the war’s end I couldn’t help but notice two small children in the Town Square. My attention focused on the left leg of the little boy. That leg wasn’t much larger than an infant leg, and the child appeared to be three or four years old. In my curiosity I approached them and started asking questions (in German). The girl (Mitzi) was five years old and the boy (Fritz) was three and a half years old. When I inquired about Fritz’s leg, Mitzi told me the story. The children lived with their grandparents, and they were fleeing the Battle zone on foot. The weather was freezing and the journey long. Fritz was wrapped well and being hauled on a child’s wagon, and the grandparents took turns in pulling the wagon. During the trip Fritz’s left leg got out from under the covers and was not noticed soon enough. That leg didn’t grow anymore as a result of that ordeal. I went to their apartment with them, met the Grandparents, and asked their permission to take Mitzi and Fritz to our army headquarters and Mess Hall, to have their evening meal with me. (This was a distance of about three or more U.S. city blocks.) They went with me and it was a joyous experience for the three of us. Thereafter I made a practice of waiting at mealtime until all GI’s had eaten, and when there was food left over I would take meals to the children and their Grandparents when possible. I asked about the parents of Mitzi and Fritz and learned the father was drafted into the German Army and was killed in action. The mother died of wounds she got during a bombing raid. (Be reminded these people were Austrian people and were the first nation to be over-run by Hitler’s hordes.) When the time came for me to leave Enns, telling those two children “good-bye” was my only regret in leaving Enns. All U.S. troops were now being shuffled around, some going home, others being transferred to other military units and places to meet the conversion to peacetime duty.
Then I was transferred to the Tenth Armored Division, and very soon thereafter approached the Commanding officer and asked for a leave to go to Epernay, France to visit my brother Bill, whose outfit was preparing to ship out to the South Pacific to join the forces there where the war with Japan was still being fought. To my surprise he immediately approved my request and began filling out the furlough form. He paused for a moment and looked at me with the question, “How will you travel?” (Public transportation at this time was almost NIX.) My reply was, “I’m thinking about making it THUMB how.” He smiled and said, “That’s an uncertain means and also impossible to place a fixed time on this form. I will just write in 14 days plus travel time.” I was on my way. Hitchhiking wasn’t bad. I was fortunate enough to get rides on U.S. military vehicles and there was very little time lapse between rides. (What a difference in Commanding officers.) I didn’t have enough points to go home yet, so I was transferred to a unit that was designated army of occupation, the 71st Division located in Augsburg Germany. After “settling in” with the new assignment I thought I would try my luck again at getting a furlough to go to Switzerland. My request was approved and I was on my way again. This time I went my train. It was now early fall and everything in Switzerland was beautiful. (What a relief to see cities without the ravages of war scars.) The Swiss people were especially friendly. I didn’t meet anyone who didn’t speak English. I spent twelve days of my fourteen day furlough there (using the other two days for travel time). I went to many points of interest, but the three days I spent in Locarno (on the Italian border) were the most memorable. I was fascinated b the street vendors with new crop chestnuts (raw or boiled). First I was surprised to learn there were large Chestnut trees like the ones that were destroyed by blight in America many years prior. I was not aware there were any of these type trees left anywhere in the world. The other thing that fascinated me was the vendor’s cart. It was a portable unit with two wheels and handles like a wheelbarrow. It was equipped with a small coal burner that heated water for boiling the chestnuts. While in Locarno I just had to go into the high mountain forest to see the trees that produced the chestnuts. To my surprise they were very large old trees and looked just like the ones America had when I was a child. The furlough ended much too soon, and even before I was on my way back to my Army unit, I was laying out plans of seeing Switzerland again before going back to the U.S.A.
When I arrived back at Augsburg I could begin seeing a big difference in peacetime Army life. The signs of “war stress” had begun to fade, and there was a more relaxed appearance in everyone. Our military regime was now reflecting this great conversion. The next three months were very easy going, and everyone seems to be enjoying the “new” peacetime regime. In mid December I asked for another furlough to go back to Switzerland, and had no problem in getting my request approved. This time a group of us brought Swiss Tours tickets because it was much more attractive and everything would be arranged, such as transportation, hotel reservations and meals. We had several programs to choose from and there were qualified personnel to answer our questions in selecting the tour we would like the best.
On this second leave into Switzerland I got an experience that left an impression I haven’t forgotten. Unlike American railways the Swiss were prompt in their departure and arrival schedules, and you could set our watch by it. I was in a passenger coach, when I went to the men’s room and finding it occupied, I went into the next car. Before I realized what was happening, the train was uncoupled between these two coaches and each moving in separate directions. Realizing what was happening I made an attempt to jump for the coach I was supposed to be on. A train attendant took me by the arm with the words, “too late.” I couldn’t believe this maneuver could happen so quickly, being accustomed to American train operation, of each time the train stopped it usually was upsetting because there would always be unexplained delay before it started moving again. My thought was, “What in the world am I going to do now?” Everything I had brought with me into Switzerland was on that coach going in the opposite direction, even my overcoat and passport. The attendant kept close watch over me and when the train stopped at the next town, he took me with him as he punched out his time card. Now that this person was off duty, he took me to see several points of interest in the town, occasionally glancing at his watch. During all this time he hadn’t told me anything as to what to expect. Eventually he said, “time to go.” He placed me on a train that was headed to Friburg and to my disbelief, as I was walking from the coach toward the station, I met my tour group. The Swiss guide was ahead of the group with my travel bag in one hand and my overcoat on the other arm. As we approached each other the Guide said, “Childress?” I answered, “Yes, I’ll take that off your hands now,” as I reached for my belongings. The guide just shook his head as he remarked, “You Americans will never cease to amaze me.” After all the time I had spent sightseeing I had been placed on a train that arrived at our destination three minutes ahead of our tour group.
While on this unexpected train ride I was approached by a young Swiss lady who was involved with the welcome committee for American soldiers. She invited me to the home of her parents, Doctor and Mrs. Konrad Ott in Friburg for Christmas dinner the following day. Of course I accepted, and she then gave me a chart with instructions of finding their home, also a reminder of the time they would be expecting me. While walking on my way to Dr. Ott’s home I began to wonder if I would get there at the expected time. I therefore approached a man on the street, inquiring about directions. This man was my first experience of meeting a man in Switzerland who didn’t speak perfect English. He asked in broken English is he could tell me in some language other than English. I replied, “Let’s try German.” It so happened my knowledge of the German language was sufficient to understand him perfectly. The first thing he wanted to know was, “Do you want to walk or ride the streetcar?” I told him I had rather walk if there was enough time. He assured me there was plenty of time for walking. He then gave me directions that were right on target and time. I really did enjoy the visit with that family. The Doctor (M.D.), his wife, his daughter (the one that invited me) and the daughter’s two children were there. The three-year-old girl took up with me at once. She sat on my lap most of the time and she was so fascinated by the brass buttons on my uniform, I took them off and gave them to her and her four-year-old brother.From Friburg we went to a French winter resort in the Swiss Alps. Soon after we arrived there came an Avalanche that blocked the railroad and we were stranded in the resort for two weeks. We wondered just how lucky could we get, stranded in this kind of situation with no bills to pay, no duties to perform, and at no expense to us. Swiss tours contacted our Army headquarters, and we were overjoyed to wait it out. There was always much to enjoy. That place was set up to attract people to their activities. There was a tennis court where many summer games were played. That same court was flooded each night during freezing weather, when Ice Hockey and Skating were the main attractions. There was also a live band that played music every night. I enjoyed most the figure skating and watching the performance of skating skills. When the tracks were cleared we left on the first train out and were surprised to see children at the next train station that we had gotten acquainted with during our “stranded” stay. The trains of course went around the mountains, but those children went over the mountains and rode skis on the “down” side. While there we found out it was not unusual to find even children that could speak up to four different languages, French, German, Italian and English. I didn’t hear of anyone that did not enjoy Switzerland. It was more like America than anything we saw while in Europe.
When we got back to our Army unit in Germany I had an entirely new assignment waiting for me. I was sent to Landsburg Prison to guard the Nazi war criminals that had been convicted if war crimes by the Military Tribunal at Nuremburg, and sentenced to death by hanging for their crimes against humanity. This was the prison from which Hitler wrote his book “MEIN KAMPf.” The prisoner I was to guard was in a cell on the first floor directly under cell Hitler was in when incarcerated there. My prisoner was Doctor Klaus Karl Schilling (MD), a small spade bearded man who appeared to be in his low to mid sixties. He was convicted of using human beings (prisoners of war and civilian prisoners abducted from various places by Hitler’s Military) as guinea pigs. The hanging gallows were just outside the window of Doctor Schilling’s cell, and executions were being carried out periodically. I think the first thing Doctor Schilling said to me was (in German), “I want to know what they are going to do with us.” I replied, “Did they not tell you at your trial in Nuremburg?” His answer was, “Yes, but why are they waiting so long?” I assured him I had not answer for him. Dr. Schilling and I got rather close during the time I was his guard. With his slight knowledge of English language, and my knowledge of German, we could help each other learn the native language.
The duties of soldiers guarding these prisoners were to prevent them from committing suicide, and to be a force to combat any attempt to free the prisoners. One day when executions were scheduled I decided I would sit in an observer’s seat and watch the event. When I told the German warden of my intent he said, “I think you won’t.” I asked, “Why?” “You’re not the type; it is not a pretty sight,” was the answer I got. While my relief guard was on duty I went out to look over the execution site. I had never before seen Execution Gallows, and my curiosity took over. While looking over this site I became aware of a silence that was almost frightening. I took my seat and sat quietly waiting for the execution to take place. When the prison doors opened and the clergyman, warden, Doctor, guards and other attendants appeared, I suddenly turned real sick at my stomach and made a fast exit from the scene. The Warden was right; I didn’t have the stomach for it, even thought I had seen the results of crimes done by such people as these, and felt they should get the same treatment they gave their victims. I still could not watch an execution, even though I was convinced they deserved it. The time was getting near when the GI’s in my point range would be going home to be discharged from the military, therefore I was transferred out of the prison duty to get on my way back to good old U.S.A. We left France first week of March 1946. This time we were on a much smaller ship, the U.S.S. General Harry Taylor. By no means was this liberty ship to be compared to the Lejeune, but it was going to America and we would be traveling faster, going “our way,” and we welcomed the ride even if it did make up sea-sick again. When we arrived in New York we were taken to the camp where we would get those discharge papers we had been looking forward to. When turning in my army gear the checkout officer asked why I had a rifle with a serial number unlike the one I was issued. I replied, “Original was lost in combat, Sir, and I grabbed the first one I saw from a fallen comrade.” I got my discharge papers on March 16, 1946 and now at last I was headed home to stay. It was sometime after my return home that I heard my Original Company, 971st Maintenance Engineers were encircled by the Japanese Army on a pacific island and suffered 96% casualties. Also the second Engineer Battalion had severe loss in similar circumstances. As I review my Army life I fully believe the Lord was with me every step of the way. A few months after I went home I read a newspaper article about the execution of Doctor Schilling. When asked if he had any last words, he replied, “No, please make it fast.” I am glad I wasn’t there when his execution took place. When we hear the word, GLORY” our minds quickly turn to things of HEAVENLY nature, however, victory in wars and battles also lay claim to the word. Even in Bible scripture we see Glory being associated with battle. II Kings 14:10 Joash tells Amiziah to be content with his GLORY and go home. Our American flag is often referred to as “OLD GLORY.” In WWII we heard the phrase “he went down in a blaze of GLORY,” when referring to heroic action of our fighter pilots that were shot down. Can the crucifixion of CHRIST on the cross the called a stain of HIS GLORY? America is one of the nations that won the war in Europe and Glory; However;
U.S. STAINS OF GLORY;
U.S. Battle Casualties in Europe
SERVICE KIA WIA
U.S. Army / Air Forces 177,549 472,742
Navy 5,793 6,077
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Total 183,342 478,819
Note: 151,920 GIs also were evacuated due to combat exhaustion. -Paul J. Childress
This memoir is the eighth in my genealogy series. If you enjoyed this story, you might also enjoy the following related stories:
My Great Uncle Bill Childress' WWII Memoirs of the South PacificMy Uncle Tommy's Memories of Vietnam
The Published Biography of Paul Childress' Father, Rev. Bob Childress
My Personal Trip Tracing the Steps of Rev. Bob Childress |
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| To add a comment to "WWII Memoir (Part 2)" |
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| May 27, 2009 |
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| Amen Amen Amen!!!!!! |
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| May 29, 2009 |
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| I had an uncle who was with Patton's army in Germany. Those were real heroes! Thanlks for sharing. |
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| May 29, 2009 |
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| Indeed, John! Thank you! Thank you, Tyler! |
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| May 31, 2009 |
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Amen.... I passed this on to my brother. |
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| June 01, 2009 |
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I enjoyed it....I also read that you like studying about the Holocaust... So do I.
In The Good Shepherd Jesus
Acolyte Tyler |
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| June 02, 2009 |
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Thank you, Joey, and thank you for sharing it with your brother!
Tyler, as painful as the stories are, it is so important that we keep them alive! God bless you! |
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| June 28, 2009 |
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