After a sad
farewell to the guys of the 101st, I left Sens, France by train
for Frankfurt-AN-main, Germany.
Joining the 82nd
was certainly no disgrace. They had proven to be a top notch outfit
throughout the world. But white scarves and gloves and white bootlaces?
Who needs it? We were a very unhappy bunch of guys.
I was turned down
for the trip home and [being] shuffled off to a new outfit was a really
low point. So once again, I decided the hell with it all and once again
became a screw up.
We had Germans
doing all the dirty jobs, so there wasn’t a lot they could do to punish
One of the
favorites was to have you march up and down the company street in full
combat gear. We were in such great shape that this wasn’t a tough task,
just wasted a lot of your free time.
Every time you
messed up, like not saluting an officer they tacked on an extra day before
you were discharged from the Army.
I guess that they
finally figured I wouldn’t live long enough to do all the extra duty they
piled on me, so the commanding officer, a 1st Lieutenant called
me in and tried a little psychology like, "Why not make it easier on
yourself? As soon as your number comes up you’ll be on your way