Guardians of Freedom
Saluting Those Who Served in the U.S. Army, Part 8
By Janis Stein

Join me in the continuation of Harold O’Neill’s story of his time spent in France and Germany during World War II. American soldiers in Germany celebrated the war's end by hunting deer, riding polo ponies and drinking a little too much.

The mountains were still covered in snow. The Alps were breathtaking, and Harold noted the beauty right before he lay down in the snow in an attempt to cool his gin-warmed body. The snow bank felt absolutely wonderful. It was the last thing he thought of as his buddies carried him inside. The house they were staying in was heated with coal and wood – a heat so warm it should have been cozy. Harold wasn’t cozy at all. In fact, a rope around his neck might have felt better than the hangover he would have to deal with in the morning!

Other soldiers, too, were celebrating the war’s end. F-Troop decided to take their jeeps and go deer hunting. Between the mountains were bogs and swamps, so it didn’t take long before they found their jeep was stuck in the muck. F Troop had a whole company of tanks; the likely solution was to pull their jeep out with one of their tanks. It didn’t take long before the first tank got stuck in the mire. Now a little wiser, they thought they surely could get themselves out of their sticky situation if they brought in another tank to pull out both the jeep and the first tank, which were having difficulties. Not knowing when to quit, some of F Troop were surprised when they realized they had about 12 tanks stuck in the bog!

Not wanting to tell their officer what they had done, they decided to call Harold and his ever-ready tank retriever, requesting a tow. Though Harold didn’t feel well, a major understatement, they were all friends, and he could never refuse them. Holding his head and thinking it maybe hadn’t been such a good idea drinking so much gin, Harold and the tank crew went on their rescue mission. Hooking the 300 feet of cable on the retriever and the 20 feet of cable on the tank stuck in the marsh, they reached in the swamp and began to drag the tanks out one by one. Though his body protested every movement, Harold continued his work, pulling the last of the dozen tanks out just as darkness was settling over Garmisch.

All that was left to do was drive the tank retriever back to their unit and collapse into bed. However, when they tried to reverse the retriever, it kept sliding and sliding. Stuck again. Harold and his crew said the heck with it; they’d leave it there for the night and worry about it in the morning. Although, Harold was still dragging, he thought perhaps the day’s efforts helped his body rid itself of the self-inflicted poison.

Staying very briefly in Garmisch, Harold’s troop moved on to the city of Rottenbach where he was stationed for five months. There the soldiers used an old monastery to set up their barracks. While the war in Germany ended, the war in Japan raged on. One evening while Harold was sleeping, he was awakened in the middle of the night and told he needed to see his Company Commander. Harold wasn’t exactly amused his sleep had been disturbed and asked his boss what it was that couldn’t wait until morning. The Army had looked over Harold’s records, and they were looking for someone to take over the motor pool for the tank destroyer outfit. This outfit was going to train in Germany, and then they would travel directly to Japan.

Although Harold had the training and the schooling, he had enough battle stars that he wouldn’t be in the first group deployed to Japan. He had three battle stars, and for each he got one point. He also had two little daughters back home, and Harold was eager to return to Michigan and put his life back together. Harold declined their offer; he was happy to be alive, and he had seen enough.

On a Sunday morning in Rottenbach after the war was declared over, Harold was on guard duty, and a check point had been established; those passing through were supposed to stop. Garmisch appeared to be a very wealthy, recreational city. Soldiers brought out a few polo ponies, and some of the soldiers, including Harold, were riding them around for the sake of entertainment and to pass the time.

The last retriever Harold was responsible for was equipped with a steel track. If the tank was driven on pavement, it was like having a 32-ton wrecker on ice skates. It had no grip whatsoever, and if it started to sway, the only way to straighten it out was to take it off the road. Orders were sent out stating all the retrievers had to be turned in at Nuremberg, which was about 120 miles away. Since there was no one left but Harold to drive it, he picked a big Frenchman to accompany him.

Harold was passing through the city of Munich, and as he was attempting to leave the city that steel track started to slide around. Accidentally, he bumped a street car, knocking it off his track. Harold slid over, catching one track on the curb and tearing out about 15 feet of it as he went. The Germans were mad, running after him and shaking their fists. Harold was happy to reach Nurembergthat evening where he parked his tank for the very last time.

It was September, 1945, and as each day passed Harold was one day closer to getting home. There were a few jobs to do yet, though, before the Army dismissed them. Harold had some personal business to tend to as well. The officers told the soldiers they would be allowed to take only one pistol home with them. Since Harold had seven in his stash, he sold the pistols and mailed his wife a money order for $300.

The Sergeant Major knew Harold had been a truck driver; they had been in the same company for three years together. All of the trucks needed to be driven to Reims, France,and the officer requested Harold to drive his truck for him.

Driving from Rottenbach to Reims, France, took about a week, and Harold’s route allowed him to drive on Germany’s autobahn.The autobahn was so wide the Germans had used it for airplane landing fields, and the work Hitler had orchestrated was tremendous – if only he had used his imagination for peaceful purposes. Regardless, the autobahnmade for some beautiful driving.

After they arrived in Reims, soldiers were put on a slow train to Marseille. Simply put, the French trains were something else. They consisted of wooden cars with baggage compartments located on top. Each compartment was loaded to the hilt with soldiers. One of them climbed in the baggage compartment to sleep, while Harold staked out a place on the floor. His feet landed in the bathroom, but at least he had room to stretch out his legs. The train traveled along, and when the whistle blew, the train stopped. Anybody wanting something to eat had to jump off the train. A kitchen was set up, so the soldiers took 10-15 minutes to grab something to eat, before hopping on the train again.

Eager to arrive in Marseille, Harold was one more step closer to home. The Army reorganized their troops, and those soldiers with low points were shipped to Japan. Other soldiers along with Harold eagerly awaited boarding the liberty ship in Marseille which would sail them home; some had not been home in as many as three years.

Once in Marseille, the soldiers slept in four-man tents for about a week. They were warned not to go into town, because the city was so dangerous and filled with crime. The word was a soldier could easily get his throat slit there if he had any money on him. Harold took their word for it, never venturing far from camp.

Join me next month for the conclusion as Harold returns to America, his duty completed.

Copyright © 2005 Janis Stein