Roving Reporter
By Ernie Pyle
Somewhere in Sicily, Italy – (by wireless)
One of the outfits with which I lived for a while on the Sicilian front was the 120th Engineers Battalion, attached to the 45th Division.
The bulk of the 120th hail from my adopted state of New Mexico. They are part of the old New Mexico outfit, most of which was lost on Bataan. It was good to get back to these slow-talking, wise and easy people of the desert, and good to speak of places like Las Cruces, Socorro, and Santa Rosa. It was good to find somebody who lives within sight of my own picket fence on the mesa.
The 120th is made up of Spanish-Americans, Indians, straight New Mexicans, and a smattering of men from the East. It is commanded by Lt. Col. Lewis Frantz, who was superintendent of the Las Vegas (New Mexico) Light & Power Company before entering service.
Col. Frantz has now been in the Army for three years and has not been home during all that time. The 45th Division spent nearly two and a half years in training, and everybody almost went nuts thinking they’d never get overseas.
The strangest case of self-consciousness along that line that I’ve run onto is Capt. Waldo Lowe of Las Cruces. He had a chance to go home on furlough last Christmas, but didn’t because he was ashamed to be seen at home after spending two years in the Army and still not getting out of the United States.
And now he can’t go home
Now that he has leaped the overseas hurdle and feels qualified to go home, he can’t get there, of course. The executive officer of the unit is Maj. Jerry Hines, athletic director of the New Mexico Aggies for many years. Maj. Hines is expecting a football player in his family about mid-September. He says he hopes to get home in time to see him graduated from college.
Two of my Albuquerque home-towners are Capt. James Bezemek, 2003 N 4th St., whose father is county treasurer there, and Capt. Richard Strong, 113 Harvard St.
Capt. Strong was company commander when I saw him, but has since been promoted to the battalion staff. He and his two sergeants had one of the narrowest escapes in the battalion when their jeep (which they’d abandoned for a magnificent ditch about two seconds before) got a direct hit from an “88” and blew all to pieces. The sergeants were Martin Quintana, who used to be a machinist for the Santa Fe at Albuquerque, and John W. Trujillo, of Socorro.
A similar narrow escape happened to Capt. Ben Billups, of Alamogordo, New Mexico, a few days later when his brand-new amphibious jeep which he’d had just one day was hit and burned up. I would have been with him if I hadn’t got sick and gone to the hospital that morning. It’s a smart guy who knows just when to get sick.
The unit’s losses from mines and shellfire have been moderately heavy. Col. Frantz estimated that half of their work has been done under at least spasmodic shellfire, and at one time his engineers were 8.5 miles out ahead of the infantry.
Parachutes make silk sheets
The colonel himself is a big, drawling, typical Southwesterner whose stamina amazes everybody, for he is no spring chicken. During the critical periods he would be on the go till 4 a.m., snatch a few hours’ sleep on the ground, and be off again at 7 a.m.
In action, the officers just flop down on the hard rocky ground like everybody else, but when they go into reserve, they fixe up bedrolls on smooth places under trees, with blankets and mosquito nets. In fact, a few of the battalion officers right now are sporting the luxury of white silk sheets. They found a torn parachute and gave a Sicilian woman some canned food to cut it up and sew it into sheets for them.
A good percentage of the battalion speaks Spanish, and occasionally you’ll heard some of the officers talking Spanish among themselves, just to keep in practice, I suppose. This New Mexico bunch misses more than anything, I believe, the Spanish dishes they are accustomed to in that part of the country.
Their folks occasionally send them cans of chili and peppers, and then they have a minor feast. Capt. Pete Erwin, of Las Vegas and Santa Fe, has a quart of chicos – New Mexico dried corn – which he is saving for Christmas dinner.