Yanks turn to thoughts of home as they ‘sweat out’ Nazi barrage
Here’s what 12 facing death said
By Tom Wolf
On the Normandy front, France – (special)
This is a near stenographic report of the conversation of 12 men pinned down for two hours by as vicious an artillery barrage as the Germans have yet loosed in Normandy.
The men are part of a company of combat engineers who were sent in to a recently captured town only a few hours after the first infantry units. When the barrage started, they dived behind a partially wrecked building. All are sweating despite the ground dampness. Conversation comes in gulps followed by long, uneasy silences which are usually ended by profanity after an especially heavy barrage.
This, then, is what men talk about at the front when their lives hang on the trajectory of the next shell:
¶ “Why the hell isn’t the Air Corps up there today bombing those gun positions?”
¶ “The fliers probably are lapping up mild and bitter in London and saying, ‘Oh, those poor, poor boys in the infantry!’ I’ll stand any one of them a drink any place any time.”
¶ “My old man was in the trenches in the last war.”
¶ “The Colonel says we’ll be here for Christmas.”
¶ “Who said this town’s been taken?”
“The Major.”
“Well, this is the last time they’ll get me up here just because the Major says the place is taken. There’s only one way to tell if a place is taken. When you see the Major in the town, then it’s taken.
¶ “Where’s our artillery we hear so much about? Why aren’t they giving those Hun guns a working over?”
¶ “After this war is over, I’m going to have a six months’ drunk.”
“Only six months?”
Afraid of firecrackers
¶ “Man, back where I live there was a fellow who used to go fishing every Fourth of July. He was afraid of firecrackers. Now I know how he feels. I’ll never shoot another cracked in all my life.”
¶ “You volunteered, Jim. You should be the last to kick.”
“Yeah, you volunteered. For what?”
“Yes, what are we fighting for?”
“Well, if we weren’t fighting them over here, we’d have to be fighting them over there sooner or later.”
¶ “Wonder if this building will take it!”
“Well, it’s been okay all morning. They probably have an observer right on the roof here. No one’s been up there to look.”
“I hope they have. They wouldn’t try to hit him.”
¶ “Before we left England, they got to us to make out our wills. Had to say who we wanted to collect our insurance. Now I know why.”
“Bet my old man would be tickled to death to get the money. I never was any use to him anyway.”
If they get back home
¶ “Boy, if I ever get back to my little old town, I’ll never leave its city limits again as long as I live.”
“Yes, someone ought to tell Roosevelt that he just calls us back home, we’ll police up his place for the rest of our lives.”
“Yeah, even after that Easter egg roll.”
¶ “How long have we been in line?”
“Forty-three days.”
“Forty-three, baloney. Forty-four.”
A soldier, covered with sweat, jumps behind the protection of the wall, too. He swears, slumps to the ground in frightened exhaustion. Someone asks him.
¶ “Where are they falling?”
“About five inches away. all over that damn road. Got lots of our boys. The medics sure are sweating it out back there.”
“Man, my hat’s off to those medics. Nothing scares them.”
Yanks draw fire
¶ “This is a pretty rugged building.”
“Yeah, and I always thought I was pretty rugged, too, but this is too damned rugged for me.”
¶ “What’s that noise coming this way?”
“Tanks.”
“Well, get those things away from here. They draw more fire than anything.”
¶ “Boy, look at all those bottles in the cellar. All empty.”
“I sure would like to drink.”
¶ “I sure would like to be home.”
“When I get home, I’m going to stay drunk.”
And the conversational cycle began all over again.