(editor's note (1991) Throughout the history of The CUB there have been several feature writers, classed as those who made a continuing submission, on a regular basis, of a column that could be clearly defined in subject matter or interest. This is not to preclude those that generously gave their stories over the period of years. Many of their stories appear in this “REVIEW” published in the 'Chapter" under the subject headings associated with the content of the particular story at the time it was submitted.
I am dedicating this CHAPTER to those that made a commitment to submit “regular” columns. The most prominent in the early days was General Alan W. Jones with his BAG LUNCH COLUMN. After his death General McMahon, Divarty continued it for a length of time. In later years the following have been “regulars.” DAN BIED, 422/A with his down to earth column relating to various subjects with a smooth flowing style that makes you feel as if you are setting next to him, listening as he unfolds his story. DALE CARVER, 424/HQ 2Bn A&P Platoon Leader, with his poems that were born from his observations and memories of the dark days of 1944‑45. He gave us permission to use any and all of them in The CUB. Then we have George Levine, 424/M, a world renown free‑lance cartoonist who has regularly submitted his fine humor to The CUB in the way of his excellent cartoons. Most recently we were privileged to gain an ASSOCIATE member who has a great interest in the France‑Belgium area. CONNIE SZARKA has committed to submit material on a regular basis written to reflect “Human Interest” subjects about the people of France and Belgium. Thanks to you all ... CUB editor, John Kline, September 1987 to date) Dan Bied's Column
Memories—memories... the elixir of life — Dan Bied
Dan Bied 422/A
Some things about my duty with the 106th Infantry Division are as clear to me now, almost, as they were 44 years ago.
I can remember taking a shower on arrival at Stalag IV‑B like it was a month ago. I assumed we were being herded into a gas chamber and was so relieved to learn it was hot water, not gas, that the event was riveted in my mind.
There is no way I'll forget being suckered into giving my wristwatch to a British POW at IV‑B. He had something to do with checking us “kriegsgefangenens” (POWs) into the camp and I gave him my watch for “safekeeping.” If he got home alive he probably opened a wristwatch store somewhere in England.
Nor will I ever forget the Red Cross parcels received by our work group at a town called Sandersdorf, although one of the guys with us in the mine maintained until his death that the Red Cross “didn't do a thing for us.”
I have clear memories—highlights, at least—of our strip mine being bombed by a squadron of Flying Fortresses on St. Patrick's Day, 1945. And, for some odd reason, I have a photo‑like recall of the smile on the elderly guard's face when I gave him a stick of Juicy Fruit from my share of the Red Cross boxes.
I claim to be something of a historian in my hometown. My memory is usually pretty good when it comes to what I experienced and read about in and around Burlington, Iowa, over the years.
Yet I'll admit, my memories are hazy about a lot of things that happened while I was with the “Golden Lion” troops.
In my article for The CUB last spring, for instance, I said I fell out on “two or three” marches that long, hot summer at Camp Atterbury. When I re‑read the article, and concentrated as hard as I could, I only remembered one occasion for sure that I didn't complete a hike. There were probably a lot of times I felt like falling out and, when I wrote the article for The CUB, I got confused between what did happen and what nearly happened back in July and August of 1944.
I only recall flashes of the voyage across the Atlantic on the Aquitania. Getting sick the first day out, I remember that. Standing in line for Hershey Bars, I remember that too.
We were on the ship at least a week but the only other thing I remember, except for the awful meals, is the time the ship was rattled by the firing of one of the guns in its stern. I thought we might be under attack by one of the German warships still loose in the Atlantic, but was glad to learn the Aquitania had only fired a warning shot in front of a freighter that hadn't identified itself.
There are also some things I can't remember at all about my tenure with the 106th.
I should remember getting paid at Camp Atterbury and overseas, but for some reason I don't.
I should remember Sergeant Todd's first name. He was our squad leader, after all, and he was from Tennessee. But I can only remember him as “Sergeant Todd.” Surely he had a first name. I recall him as a good soldier and, while I had nothing in common with him except our duty, a good fellow. Was it Sergeant James Todd?
Some Gis came home with a lot of “loot” from the ETO. I was afraid to dig around in German homes looking for cameras, guns, etc., because I remembered the training film in England that warned us of booby traps, even in a bar of soap.
So, when we landed in New York in June, 1945, my duffel bag was pretty limp. All I brought home was a beer coaster I had found in a German Tavern, a German road atlas I ran across in Naumberg, near where we were liberated, and a carton of Chesterfields for a friend.
I had some extra sox and underwear, no doubt, and a few V‑Discs.
And a lot of memories, including some that will be vivid if I live another 20, 25 or 30
“Here You Are Soldier!,” said Col Reid
by Dan Bied
In his history of our division, “St Vith: Lion In The Way,” Col. R. Ernest Dupuy reported that my regiment of the 106th, the 422nd, landed in France on December 6, 1944.
“The poor 422nd,” he wrote, “had stood almost all night in the cold and rain before moving out, and incidentally had been the last regiment to draw overshoes.”
I don't recall ever being issued overshoes. But I do have vivid memories of the rain, mud an ominous drop in temperature the day our unit left France to go up front. It was a week or so before the Battle of the Bulge began on December 16, 1944, and I'll never forget that ride in the back end of a GI truck.
I had trouble finding space on a truck as we pulled out. It was mid morning as I recall it and I was glad, actually, to be leaving the sea of mud that was out “tent city” in France since arriving at Le Havre and walking up the long, steep hill from the bomb‑battered dock.
My dufflebag got to be a load as I walked back and forth on the road trying, in vain, to find a truck with space in it. Finally in disgust, I tossed the bag down on the side of the road. I just stood there a while, then walked several truck lengths toward the head of the column.
“Here's room for you,” someone yelled, and I started back to get my bag with, among other things, a radio and a book I had bought in Oxford. The book, which cost about $5 had photos of British bombers in it and I was optimistic enough to think I would get to take it home. The radio, of course, proved useless on the Siegfried Line where, as far as I know, it is still laying in a ditch.
As I turned back to where I had left my bag, it was handed to me by ‑ believe it or not‑ our battalion commander Lt. Col. Kent. I think his name was Thomas L. Kent, but I am not sure about that and was unable to find him mentioned in “St Vith Lion In The Way.”
“Here you are, soldier,” Lt. Col. Kent said, looking me straight in the eye, then he turned and walked ‑ in long strides that were familiar to me ‑ towards his Jeep, I suppose at the front of the column.
That was the last time I saw Lt. Col. Kent, a man I respected and admired. He was one of the first men killed in The Bulge. He was I was told, the victim of head injuries on or about December 16, 1944, when the concrete bunker he was in sustained a direct hit from German artillery.
Lt. Col. Kent, a tall and wiry man who, I believe, had been a paratrooper, had given pep talks to the First Battalion in Indiana and in England. He impressed me as a first class officer, certainly more so than some I knew. I had volunteered for rifle company duty after basic training and he was exactly the kind of officer I wanted to serve under in the ETO.
Once, in Indiana, Lt. Col. Kent had gone to bat for me. It was during a long march I shouldn't have been taking. I had been on sick call, for the only time in my 2‑year Army career, for treatment of sore, bleeding feet. I had been given a light duty slip, stipulating “no marches,” but had been required to take the march anyway.
I fell out. Lt. Col. Kent wondered what was wrong. I told him. That was the last marching I did for a week or two..
Now, some 44 years after the fact, I can still see the penetrating look Lt. Col. Kent's eyes as he handed my bag to me, after carrying it some distance, and told me: “Here you are, soldier.”
Those few words, coming from Lt. Col. Kent, made me grow up in a hurry for the impending ordeal in the Ardennes and in the coal mine I was assigned to, until liberation day came in Eastern Germany.
Too bad, really, that Lt. Col. Kent of all people, had to die in the Ardennes.
I can't think of anyone I knew in the war years ‑ or, for that matter, since the war ended ‑ who impressed me more than Lt. Col. Kent.
While I hardly knew him, I'm convinced that, at age 19, he was the right man at the right place at the right time for me.
by Dan Bied
Some of you might not agree with me if I claimed that A Company, 422d Infantry was the best outfit in the 106th Infantry Division.
But all of you will agree, I'm sure, that the ordeal of the 106th in '44 and '45 makes all of us (riflemen, cooks,clerks, truck drivers, etc) special people.
I'm more sure than ever about us being special people after the mail and phone calls received earlier this year. The tempo of this sort of communication has increased, thanks in part to the excellence of our publication, The CUB, and I am elated that so many former Gis who served in the 106th are “reaching out.”
I use the term “reaching out” to describe for instance, the maps of Germany and Photos of Stalags 4‑B and 12‑A sent to me, unsolicited and at his own expense, by David Schneck (515 Courtland Pl., Bel Air, MD 21014‑3220). Although he did not serve in our division, (he served in C Company, 290 Inf, 75th Div.) Schneck was a POW and spent time in prison camps with men of the 106th. Now, he is getting in touch with former POWs across the country to, as I call it, “reach out.”
It was John Kline, our editor, who sent me the address of George Meminger, who was in my company and captured along with me on 19 December, 1944. I hadn't heard of George in all these years. I wrote to him in Itasca, Illinois and received a prompt and welcome reply.
I also got an address of Carlos D. Weber, in New York City. Sergeant Weber was with our company. He had won the Silver Star for heroism in North Africa and, of course, was the man to listen to when the subject came turned to combat. He taught me how to disassemble a BAR and was good to me in many ways when, at the age of 18, I was learning to be an infantryman. I didn't know Sgt Weber was still alive, so I wrote to him promptly.
I was thrilled a few weeks later when I unexpectedly received a phone call from him. We talked for nearly an hour. We remembered, in particular, the night we almost died in an air raid staged by our planes on Koblenz, Germany while a thousand or so of us were in a three story barracks type building near the Rhine. He recalled, as I did, that a nearby building was smashed flat during the raid. The building contained beds that the Germans had us take out of the barracks to make room for the large number of men. (I learned later that they were three buildings that had been used as a German Officer Training School.)
My memories included the hostility of German civilians toward us as we left Koblenz to march on to Limburg, Stalag 12‑A. Carlos didn't remember this detail. But he did remember other things I had forgotten, including the raisins I gave him when we were marching further into Germany.
It is an odd thing, we agreed, how details of what happened nearly 45 years ago are so clear while other things can't be remembered at all.
That's the way it is whenever I get talking to my pals from the 106th. It was that way in July, 1988, when Ray Russell and I talked for about seven hours in a motel in Newark. He remembered several things that happened when we worked in a coal mine near Leipzig while, of course, there were some things recalled by me that he had forgotten.
One reason so many of us are “reaching out” I'm sure, is our realization that Father Time is gaining on us. I'm going on 64 and am one of the younger veterans of The Bulge. Carlos Weber, meanwhile, is 72. We are getting on in years. I have a health problem. One way or another, many of us have the urge to “reach out.”
The best way to do this, I'm certain, is by supporting the 106th Infantry Division Association, through continued membership and the enlisting of new members.
Someday we'll all be gone. Meanwhile. let's “Reach Out.”
A Tough, Speedy Old Tub, the Aquitania
by Dan Bied
A recent article in The CUB got me to remembering some details about going to Europe in 1944 on the Aquitania.
The 422d Regiment and, apparently, the 424th were on the big, fast 4‑stacker. I recall some Air Force men being on the ship also, and the fact that I envied their thick leather jackets and warm‑looking boots. Those boots would have been nice later in the Ardennes.
My most distinct recollections of the Aquitania have to do with the food, the cramped quarters and the incident in which one of the ship's guns was fired.
The food was dreadful, as I am sure all of you will recall. The British were up against it in the war years and surely did not have a lot of food to spare. It would have been better if Uncle Sam had supplied the chow for our trip, but that would have probably required an act of Congress. There were two meals a day, as I remember it, and welcome opportunities to buy American candy bars on the ship. There were long lines waiting for the candy, but of course there was nothing else to do, so I was a candy customer on a daily basis. They had Hershey bars, which were my favorite back in that era. When I was 18, I admitted to more than ample girth.
I was on F‑F deck. That was the bottom of the ship, I think. The guy in the hammock‑like bunk above me was only inches away from my head. I didn't get sick the first day out, but succumbed to the ship's rolling motion later on when several guys near me began to vomit.
The big event of the trip, which took about a week, was the morning the gun went off. There was a ship on the horizon and I saw it, remarking to someone I hoped it wasn't one of those Nazi pocket battleships still prowling the Atlantic.
“Wham,” the gun went from the rear of the ship. The impact rattled the Aquitania and there was tension in the air as we awaited a possible return shot from the other ship. The other ship was a Greek freighter, someone told me later on, and the shot was fired across its bow when it did not provide proper identification to our ship. (I don't know if it was a Greek ship or not, but that is what I was told, and the ship was apparently a freighter.)
The remainder of the voyage was uneventful, as far as I know, except for late one night when I heard an urgent voice on the loudspeaker asking for, I think the radar officer. (Later on I was told that there was fear a German submarine was in our vicinity; this seems a likely story, though I did not hear about it from any official source.)
The day we landed in Scotland the Aquitania was greeted by some English flying boats. These planes gave us a measure of assurance as we neared the friendly coastline of the British Isles.
In Scotland, I was surprised to see a large building that resembled the municipal auditorium on the Mississippi River in my hometown of Burlington, Iowa. Some men were golfing on a nearby hill as we left the ship. I hoped to get a good look at the Aquitania as we left it, but I wasn't able to. Nevertheless, I'll never forget that huge ship and the rolling, green ocean with the white caps on it, as the 15,000 of us went to Europe.
It's odd how I remember some little things so vividly about the Aquitania, but I guess all of us remember things in flashes.
I remember the shower near our bunks, for one thing, and I remember the food, etc., splashing all over the mess tables one morning.
The heat and humidity on F‑F deck are also memorable after all these years, and I still appreciate the Aquitania was such a tough, speedy old tub.
My wife and I have been on several cruises in the Caribbean and on the Rhine. I grew up amid the paddle‑wheel steamers on the Mississippi. Still for some reason, the Aquitania is “my” ship.
Liberation Day — A day to rejoice
by Dan Bied
I was liberated 24 April 1945, as many of you were, in Eastern Germany. It was a Tuesday, if that is important. It was warm and sunny, I remember, and a few German soldiers led the way as we marched toward American troops near a town called Wurzen.
Our morale was sky high, while the Germans escorting us were dragging‑ass. Some of our guys taunted the guards, challenging them to keep pace with our quick, anxious strides.
Germans and other Dps pushing little wagons loaded with their personal stuff ‑ lamp shades, piles of clothing, etc. ‑ clogged the narrow road. I felt sorry for the elderly people, many of them as old as my grandparents back in Iowa. But, I reminded myself, they probably would have been cheering Hitler if the tide of the war was reversed.
Suddenly, the tranquility was shattered by a group of P‑47 Thunderbolts screaming in from the west. Flying full‑bore at about 100 feet, the silver planes roared above a bean field to our left. They let go with rockets that headed in our direction: “Whomp, whomp, whomp.”
We all scattered, running and diving into the ditches. The Thunderbolts swung around to the north, then came back for another attack. They fired more rockets, then headed back toward, I guess, their airfields near the Rhine.
After crawling out of the ditches, and counting our blessings, we realized the planes hadn't been shooting at us, but at a Luftwaffe hangar, covered by evergreens, that was less than a half‑mile away from the road, It was in flames.
It was at Wurzen, on the Mulde River about ten miles east of Leipzig, that the Germans surrendered us to troops of the 69th Infantry Division, with no emotion shown by the men we had crossed an ocean to fight.
Some of us waved our arms and whooped it up. Others got down and prayed, as I remember it, I think, nearly as I can recall after 45 years, I just stood in the road and watched. I was stunned, as well as elated, and appreciative to be freed.
I got into a truck with some pals. Most of the Germans ignored us as we were driven to a Nazi camp nestled in trees near a stone house, nearly big enough to be a castle, that was our mess hall the next couple of days.
We were driven to Naumberg, where we got showers, were deloused and given clean clothes. We also got some money. It was $50 per man, I think. I remember a dentist inspecting my teeth, He asked me how old I was. I'd noted my 19th birthday in London, on 21 November 1944. I was glad my teeth hadn't fallen out, though I hadn't brushed them for more than four months.
For some reason I can remember seeing a movie, “ Experiment Perilous,” with George Brent, in a theater in Naumberg. Some of us roamed around the city, looking for souvenirs, and we ate all we could get our hands on, of course.
Alec Templeton, the blind British pianist, played a concert for us one afternoon, and I remembered a tune of his, “Bach Goes To Town,” that was recorded by my favorite band leader, Benny Goodman.
I remember some other details, such as the sidewalk toilets we sat on in Naumberg as passing German civilians, typically, ignored us, and I remember I still had big scabs on my lower legs from what I thought to be malnutrition.
These were the happiest days of my life, in a way. Yet I don't remember many details, only a few highlights that have stuck in my mind.
There were glum‑looking German soldiers standing in gondola railroad cars, sweating in the warm sun.
We were happy, meanwhile.
Even happier, I think, than the Germans we saw storming the Berlin Wall when it was opened last November.
“A” Company, 422d Regiment, Reunion
by Dan Bied
There were 12 guys in the first squad of the third platoon, Company A of the 422nd Regiment, according to some diary notes I've kept since late in 1945. So it was a pretty good turnout, all things considered, when three of us attended the first annual Company A reunion at Charleston, West Virginia, in April of 1990.
Sixteen former members of our company, and 13 wives, were on hand for the get‑together. The event was drummed up by Gene Schmalzried or Huntington, Ind., and Carlos D. Weber of New York City, former sergeants in Company A.
I recognized Dick McKee, who was a sergeant in our squad, as soon as I saw him in the lobby at the Ramada Inn. He is a bit heavier than he was 45 years ago but I was surprised how little he has changed.
Archie Prim hasn't changed a whole lot, either. He was a scout in our squad and is a retired school administrator in Graceville, Florida. Archie spends a lot or his time raising horses now, and he is trying to revive memories of his duty with the Golden Lion division after trying to “block them out” in earlier post‑war years.
Dick and I spent some time recalling the first German shot by Company A, an incident in which he was directly involved. On the lighter side, we laughed about the radio several of us chipped in to buy in England. We thought we might be able to hear Glenn Miller's band on it as we traveled toward Berlin, but there were no plug‑ins in the Siegfried Line. I was carrying the radio when we evacuated our dugouts on Dec. 16, 1944, and the last I saw of it was when I tossed it in a snow‑filled ditch near our battalion headquarters.
McKee, who ran a printing business in Huntington, Indiana, did a good Job preserving military memorabilia over the years. He has, in fact, written a diary‑type account of his Army career which is illustrated with photos, clippings and a detailed recap of the 106th's death‑march into Germany.
Prim, on the other hand, told me he wasn't interested in recalling the war until after his wife's death a number of years ago. “I'm really interested now in what happened to the 106th,” he said at Charleston. “I want to read all I can about it.”
I was very pleased to learn how well many of the men in Company A had done over the years.
Eugene Powell, for instance, worked aa a set artist for such movies as “Cotton Club” while living in New York. Ewell Black was in the newspaper business many years in South Carolina and then became a Presbyterian minister. Schmalzried was a building contractor and Weber was a jeweler and, I think, a watchmaker.
It is natural, of course, that I have more in common with some men after four and one‑half decades than I have with others. I was particularly interested in talking to Clinton Hohnstein, who lives in Nebraska, about the work we have done for the Red Cross over the years. Clinton and his wife have been active as Red Cross volunteers, while he has donated blood on many occasions, In my case, I was chairman or our Red Cross fund drives in Burlington, Iowa, in 1958 and 1959. We both appreciated the rood received from the Red Cross in 1945 and wanted to do something to express our thanks to the Red Cross and its thousands of volunteers.
The men of Company A plan another reunion at Indianapolis in the spring of 1991. We're hoping for a larger turnout next year, of course, and expect that 20 or more of our Company A pals will be on hand.
We appreciate all the help received from John Kline, editor of The Cub, and are anxious to get more information on Company A personnel.
Money isn't everything
by Dan Bied
My part‑time job as a columnist for The Cub doesn't pay a whole lot. Nothing, actually, in the way of money. But I am getting some kicks out of the assignment that I didn't expect when John Kline asked me to be a contributor. For instance, the phone rang one night last fall and, to my total surprise, it was Lou Apel in St. Louis just wanting to bat the breeze about our experiences in the 106th.
Lou was in my outfit, Co, A of the 422nd, for a while. He said he remembered me,"kind of hazily," after seeing my photo in The Cub. I've changed more than that, of course. But my face finally sunk in after Lou saw it a half‑dozen times and, I think, he recalled my name because it's rather unusual.
Lou asked if my name is pronounced “Bide” or “Bead.” I told him it is close enough either way, but it's actually right to pronounce it “Bead.” It's a German name and, my dad I suspected, was probably Biedermann or something like that before our family came to America.
Lou remembered loafing around the day room at Camp Atterbury and it's natural enough that he might have remembered me from there. I was something of a boozer, though I was just 18, at Camp Atterbury, and that meant I was broke “between pay days” half the time. I was around the day room a lot. It didn't cost anything to be there, of course, so I spent a lot of time reading magazines, shooting pool or whatever we did there in that long, hot summer in 1944. Lou sounded like a great guy and I hope to see him before long, perhaps at the Co, A reunion or at the division reunion in 1991 or 1992.
I also got in touch with Rob Scheffel, Thanks to The Cub.
He lives in Nebraska and I remember exactly what he looked like in 1944, a big guy who wore thick glasses and was always anxious to talk.
Bob didn't remember me, except vaguely. That's the way it goes, tough. At the Co. A reunion last year in West Virginia I remembered Archie Prim better than he remembered me. And I was a bit red‑faced when I couldn't recall Clinton Hohnstein right away, though he remembered me “like yesterday.”
Bob and I exchanged several letters. We were both “writers,” he noted, though he made his living by etching names on tombstones over the years. “People ask me how long I was a guest of the Germans during the war,” Bob wrote. “I always say it was four months, going on two years.”
Isaac Lucero wrote from New Mexico. He reminded me that he used to be called “Half Pint” in the 106th. I remember Isaac very well. He was a good soldier, though he was so short that the butt of a BAR would nearly drag the ground when he carried it. “First I was a BAR man and then I was a scout,” he said in his letter. “I was the only Spanish guy in the outfit.”
I didn't know Eugene Kelch of Arnold, Mo., but he wrote an interesting letter, four pages long, that recalled our trip to Europe on the Aquitania. Eugene was an infantryman (Co, I, 422nd) but he did MP duty during the voyage and told me some things I didn't know.
“In your article you mentioned the long lines waiting to buy candy at the dry canteen,” Eugene wrote, “You should have seen the lines outside the kitchen waiting to buy sandwiches from the British. This was always at night.”
The food was terrible on the ship, as many of you will recall. But, according to Eugene, members of the British crew could be seen carrying crates of eggs and other items off the ship in Scotland, “food we were supposed to have been fed.”
These letters and phone calls always trigger memories of when I joined the 106th at Camp Atterbury on July 7, 1944.
Perhaps I wrote before about the fact that, while I had been through at infantry basic at Camp Wolters, Tex., I spent the first week or two in the kitchen at Camp Atterbury. This was because there was a shortage of men to do KP. In fact, my future squad sergeant, Sgt, Todd, was doing KP the day I arrived on the scene.
We always ate well in Co. A. Bob Richardson, our mess sergeant, had operated a restaurant in Indiana, believe it or not. I will never forget the great meal he and his cooks served us for Thanksgiving in 1944.
It was equivalent to home cooking, except I couldn't go back for another drumstick, etc., the way I did when I was a kid in Iowa.
Before the Veterans Die, by Dale Carver
424th/Hdqtrs 3 Battalion, A&P
(editor's note—I contacted Dale Carver after learning about him from a friend, Bill Johnson of the 28th Division. He had read a book of poems written by Dale Carver. The book of poems was dedicated to the men who served in the 424th Infantry, both the living and the dead. Dale was happy to join the Association. Like many, he did not know it existed until I contacted him.
He wrote saying “I wrote the verse some ten years after the war. It was therapy. Had I to do it now, I would change some of it, but I wrote it as I felt then.”
Dale was a 21 year old 2nd Lt. in the Bulge. He told me in his letter, “I was A&P Platoon Leader (page 210—St Vith, A Lion in the Way) and the youngest officer in the 424th Regiment. Behind my back, my old Sergeants (heroes all) called me the “ youngun.” They were old men in their middle and late twenties. He would love to hear from any of the 106th men... John Kline)
About the Author
(from the back cover) Dale Carver is a native of Kansas. He served as a platoon leader in the 424th Infantry of the 106th Infantry Division during World War II. The 106th Division was badly mauled during the initial stages of the Battle of the Bulge. Two of it's regiments the 422nd and 423rd, were encircled and captured. The 424th fought on until the allies had the situation under control. During the final stages of the war in Europe Carver's Battalion was assigned the task of running a POW camp at Brezenhein, Germany.
Carver was awarded the Silver Star medal and a battlefield promotion to 1st Lieutenant. He is now a retired professor of engineering mechanics, having taught at Louisiana State University for 28 years. He Resides in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.
Darwin H. Shrell, Professor of English, Emeritus, Louisiana State University: Carver's talents are essentially those of a lyric poet. Some of his most compelling poems (“The Young Lieutenants,” “The Veteran,” “The 'Strategic' Withdrawal,“” “The Poet,” “Maroon Mud and Dog‑Tags,” “A Shell Fragment,” and “The Good Soldier” ) stab at us with brief and illuminating insight—as jolting as lightning bolts.
Jim Bush, decorated combat veteran of World War II: “I have read them all with awe, sadness and great respect for your sensitivity and ability. You will be letting down these same veterans—living and dead—if you don't publish them.
MAROON MUD and DOG–TAGS
A corpse in the road, a column of tanks
in a clanking, grinding fury,
maroon mud and dog‑tags
nothing to bury.
Dirty, unshaven, dull eyed men waiting for food in a line, a kitchen truck in the muddy snow in a shell‑scarred wood of pine.
A young gold‑barred replacement watching the somber scene, straight from the Chattahoochee, sharp‑eyed, confident and clean.
(He'd remold into soldiers these shapeless lumps of clay; they'd wash and shave, again salute, before another day.)
Responding then to an unheard cue, he walked the length of the line, idly counting as he went;
he stopped at thirty‑nine.
Which platoon is this?”
he asked the sergeant standing by.
Where have you been? this is Company I.”
THE YOUNG LIEUTENANTS
Where are the young lieutenants
who sailed across the sea?
Where are the proud young men
who went across with me?
Some are home, now older,
some sleep beyond the sea—
and all so much humbler
than ever they thought they'd be.
Cartoons by George Levine, 424 INF/M
(One of Gil Helwig's recent new member recruits, George Levine 424/M, turned out to be a free lance cartoonist. I thought it would be to THE CUB's benefit to solicit George's help in producing a quarterly cartoon for inclusion in THE CUB. Fortunately George agreed and we will be featuring one or more cartoons in each of the future issues. I have had several conversations with him, along with a couple of letters, parts of which follow...editor, John Kline)
25 April, 1988
John, I enjoyed our phone conversation and again thanks for THE CUB and the other material.
Enclosed are four cartoons for use in THE CUB if they meet your needs. I suggest a tentative title of “CUB Laughs”if it is to be a regular feature.
Let me know what you think. Also enclosed is a caricature of myself and a few clippings of my published cartoons. Geo
6 May, 1988
John, as a follow up to our phone conversation yesterday I'm enclosing a recap of my background. I want to let you know that I can only contribute a cartoon “CUB Laughs” for THE CUB, but I cannot supply any of your other art needs. Let me know what your members want, standard gag material, GI humor or what? We will probably know after we run a couple of these if they are going over or not. If there is a definite slant on the gags, this is important to me, when creating a cartoon for a particular audience. Let me know.
A Recap of my background
by George Levine, M Co. 424th Regiment
Enlisted for one year with Federalized New York National Guard 155 MM Gun Coast Artillery Regiment in Sept 1940. Trained at Virginia Beach (Camp Pendleton, VA). Recalled to active duty in January 1942. Assigned to various stateside C.A. units on 155s to 12" guns.
Volunteered for infantry from the Coast Artillery, assigned to the 106th, Atterbury in April 1944. Did the whole thing from Camp Myles Standish to Chipping Norton to positions on front replacing 2nd Division as a mortar (81mm) gunner, 424/M.
Participated in all the 424th action from 16 December, 1944 to 15 January, 1945 when I was evacuated with severely frost bitten feet, at Wanne, Belgium.
Hospitalized at 55th General Hospital near Great Malvern, England (Worcester County).
Discharged from hospital 3 April, 1945, requested return to infantry, but because of condition of feet was put on “limited duty, for the duration. VE day in Antwerp, then assignment to Bremerhaven, 10 day furlough to Denmark 1 Sept, '45.
Discharged on points, Calais Staging area, Marseilles, November 12, 1945. Victory ship to the States, Discharged Fort Dix 29 November, 1945.
GI Bill, Cartoonist and Illustrators School. Free lanced cartoons to major magazines.
Re‑enlisted in the regular Army in September 1948. Assigned by my request to the 1st Division in Germany in 1949. Rifle Company 26th Inf Regiment.
Though I held a rifleman's MOS ‑ I drew on the side a regular feature for the “American Traveler' the 1st Infantry Division's paper.
These cartoons in 1951 and 1952 were consolidated into paperbacks published by the “Stars and Stripes” and put on sale in newsstands and PXs all over Europe. A fifty‑ fifty deal and successful.
I returned to civilian life after 12 years of active service, turning to editing (Humor Mags) and free lancing cartoons to magazines and newspapers.
Also in 1958‑59 created and wrote a syndicated cartoon panel “Senator Caucus” distributed by General Features. This was a two man effort.
I enclose a list of the publications my work has appeared in. Though not in the best of health and over 70, I continue to draw and submit as always, but not in the same volume (Whew!). Best Regards, George Levine 424/M
Credentials (George Levine, 424/M)
George is an Alumnus of the School of Visual Arts and a member of the National Cartoonists Society
Cartoons by George Levine have been published in the following publications;
Leatherneck, Daily News Magazine, LAFF‑A‑DAY, McCall's,The Star, New Woman, Good Housekeeping, Women's Day, Family Circle, Ladies Home Journal, Los Angeles Magazine, Wall Street Journal, Reader's Digest, National Enquirer, King Features Syndicate, McNaught Syndicate, Diversion, Journal of Commerce, Medical Economics, Medical Tribune, Case & Comment, Phi Delta Kappa, American Medical News and many others.
In Europe; Frau (Germany), London Free Press, Sunday Express, My Weekly, SHE, Week‑End, Annabel (England) Trading Post (Australia.), Welwoche (Switzerland), and others.
The cartoon above is given as a sample of George's submissions to The CUB. Other cartoons will appear in this book, space permitting.
Connie Szarka's Column
A Lady from LIEGE Remembers the Americans
by Connie Szarka ASSOCIATE Member Mound, Minnesota
In March of 1980 when I began leading student groups to France, I experienced a depth of feeling which exists since America's entry into World War II. As our 45 teenagers and we four chaperons traveled by bus through significant areas of France and Belgium, many elderly people held up their hands in the victory sign when they realized we were from the United States.
For awhile we were living in June of 1944 along Normandy, sensing the warmth and grateful attitudes of many during the Liberation.
For me, it was the beginning of a quest to understand the tenacity, the human condition of the soldiers and the civilians who lived, fought and suffered during the campaigns of World War II. Although the times were difficult for Americans at home, they did not fully comprehend the horrors and devastation on war‑torn soil.
As Ernie Pyle wrote, “the millions far away at home who must remain forever unaware of the powerful fraternalism in the ghastly brotherhood of war.”
What kept the people going during the long period of Nazi occupation, when there was so little food, warmth or shelter? How did civilians and troops survive this madness?
The strengths and hopes of those elderly people we saw and met had held firmly even though their eyes reflected sights that, mercifully, the next generations would not have to view. “Men can do strange and great things when they have to do them”, wrote Ernie Pyle.
Thus began a series of visits or informal interviews with French and Belgian people along the way of my travels.
Liege, 57 kilometers northwest of Stavelot, is at Belgium's eastern edge near the Dutch and German borders, 113 kilometers south and east of Bruxelles. Liege was headquarters for the Resistance movement during World War II. The Liegeois are known for their “joie de vivre” and good‑natured attitude.
And they remember American kindnesses during the war.
Here is one lady's story as told to me in her gift shop.
“I was born in 1914, the day after my father left for World War I. When I was six years old I met him for the first time.
My sister became engaged to a Californian during World War II but he never returned from battle. My husband also went to battle and I kept this little gift shop even then.
One day three G.I.s came in to buy Easter greeting cards. Just then an air attack started and I took my baby into the cellar. I worried about my merchandise.
When the all clear signal sounded I emerged to find three separate piles of money on the counter. Just the right change for each card. I will never forget those American boys and their honesty."
Connie wrote the following letter with her first submission to The CUB...
I am sending you the short story I wrote for the May issue of The CUB. Really enjoyed writing it, recalling what it was like in Liege at that time, when I visited with the shop keeper.
Thanks for sending me all the material about the Bulge and your war experiences. I have just finished reading Joseph Gavroyes Souvenirs de la Tormente. He definitely points the finger at Marshal Montgomery for the December 26th decision to pull American back several kilometers to create a different front before a counter‑offensive.
Also, when I traveled and talked to people they told me that so many were killed by Allied bombs that missed their targets ‑ for example, the whole “old” city of St. Malo on the English Channel was leveled for that reason. They found the original plans and have rebuilt it exactly as it was.
Your service diary, John, is definitely something that had to be written. How fortunate that liberation came when it did ‑ you were so weak and so thin. Your accounts of your long march and having only snow for moisture, digging that grave, kindness of some of the farm ladies along the way, are all so poignant. I can imagine that it was difficult, even these years later, to write about it all.
I was glad to see the pictures of you and Margot and your family in the back of the diary.
I'm off to Paris and Rennes, Brittany with a small group of students on February 18 to March 3. Planning on taking a couple of short side trips and will see whom I can find to visit about their war experiences.
Perhaps we can meet for coffee or lunch when I return. You, Margot and I have had such interesting conversations by telephone, it would be nice to meet you both. My husband teaches in the English Department at the Minnetonka Senior High School and our son, Joshua, is a 7th grader. Until later ‑
Doc's Place Saturday
December 8, 1990 St. Paul, Minnesota
by Connie Szarka ASSOCIATE Member Mound, Minnesota
This was the place where a number of the 106th Infantry Division “Golden Lions” met to commemorate the start of the Battle of the Bulge in 1944. Though that event was 46 years ago, it seemed vivid in the minds of those present at this luncheon. Some met for the first time. Many of these men had been prisoners of war, injured and had suffered greatly from the severe cold, wet conditions and hunger. They had held on as long as they could, delaying German advances through the Ardennes Forest and around St. Vith. Others of the group, most from the surviving regiment who had fought, withdrawn and then carried the fight to Germans, recalled their experiences of the battles.
The 106th had been sharply criticized, fortunately the truths about their efforts have printed by war historians. One such publication includes a book, St. Vith, A Lion in the Way, The 106th Infantry Division in World War II. by Colonel R. Ernest Dupuy, copyright 1949 by the Infantry Journal, Inc. whose dedication reads: “To the Golden Lions, American soldiers who Raw Courage and Stout Hearts Conquered Eclipse.”
As an Associate member of your organization, I was invited to attend the commemoration get‑to‑gether. I told John Kline, editor of The CUB that I was very interested in attending because of my interest in studying about World War II and in talking to my high school students (French classes) about this historical period.
I was greeted warmly as I arrived at Doc's Place and joined the gathering. I would like to add that even though I was born during the time that the 106th suffered its trial by war, I have a great interest in World War II and the people in Belgium and France.
As I visited with various individuals it was apparent to me how the war and its effects had shaped the men, to a degree.
Several told me of their personal experiences, some of which were amusing, some painful. It was my privilege to hear these stories and to be able to relate them to the next generations. Sons and daughters are now in Saudi Arabia. Old fears and memories are once again brought to the surface.
Another sent me a reproduction of the official U.S. Army Christmas Card of 1944, commissioned by the U.S. Committee for the Battle of Normandy museum.
Another veteran offered to loan me his first edition copy of St. Vith, Lion in the Way, which I am currently reading. Books are precious, like gold. I truly appreciate this loan.
Another vet brought copies of “The Saturday Evening Post,” November 9, 1946 with the article “The Glorious Collapse of the 106th” and “The Stars and Stripes,” of May 8, 1945. Other mementoes and souvenirs were brought for all to look through.
I am sorry, but there were several vets and wives with whom I did not have the opportunity to visit.
Here's to the men who gathered together for a few brief hours, to their lovely ladies, to December 1944 and to December 1990.
A Happy New Year and Good Health to All.
Bag Lunch – First Volume – 1959
Originally the author signed “AWJ” but the members all knew that it was authored by General Alan W. Jones, commander of the 106th.
Since this is the initial offering of a new and continued column, an explanation and statement of intent is indicted. We must, first of all, admit to having been hi‑pressured by the “cub” Cub Editor and others. We see through flattering remarks all right but we are here anyway. The name of the column? Some things fall into place without effort and this is one of them. The column will be a source of unrelated miscellany, maybe no one item anyone is enthused about, but in bulk something that may fatten up our membership. Bologna? Plenty will be found. Cake? A few crumbs now and then. Ham? We couldn't do without it. And corn too if you look carefully.
Under the anonymity of initials, and certainly with no literary reputation to win or lose, we are in top position to write as inspiration or bad temper dictate. We are sure the membership will accept full responsibility for damages of libel or character assassination that may be awarded against us. So, in order to give freedom of expression to all, we make the following offer: If you would like to know the reason (and result if any) for a specific happening or activity occurring in the Division during the years 1943 and 1944, write and ask this column! The only qualifications are that you give your name and former organization and that you are a paid‑up member of the Division Association. If you do not want your name to appear in the reply, say so. The door is wide open.
The Association has just held a first‑class “Reunion,” and it brought thoughts of a growing, national pastime. No doubt an association exists because the individuals forming it have a common background of interests and enjoy getting together and talking about them. It may be for professional improvement as exemplified by scientific societies. It may be for material gain such as trade unions and manufacturer's associations. Or the motive may be the snob appeal inherent in some groups and fraternities.
Military organization reunions are unique. We exclude the big ones which follow the usual pattern of speeches and resolutions. We are talking about the military unit association gathering, ranging from company sized meeting to the more usual Division Assembly. These are ordinarily social, interesting and totally enjoyable. However, like any other good thing, they must be protected from all manner of dangers. At our first attempt we are almost taken over by a political group then powerful in Indian Town. But we learned, and our meetings have since been our own, the type we like and conspicuously filling our needs. At times it has appeared we would fall flat on our collective face, but the right man comes forward and we go on. As we always shall.
Editor's note: The initials of the author should be recognized by any 106th Infantry Division soldier as those of Major General Alan W. Jones, the first Commander of the 106th Infantry Division. A long series of articles was written by General Jones for the “Bag Lunch” column.
He continued to supply bits of humor, knowledge and wisdom until his death on January 22, 1969. After his death Brigadier General Leo T. McMahon, Commander of the Division Artillery, continued this column for many years as a memorial to General Jones. There were far too many articles to reprint in their entirety. We hope that this sampling of “Bag Lunch” is to your liking — at least more than the “Bag Lunch” that you all remember during the training years...(CUB Review editor 1991)
This is the issue of the CUB served currently with IRS blank forms. Receipt of these prompted a chain of financial thinking: leading from a wondering if others were bothered also, to thinking how nice a situation to be a tax free organization. This led to musing on our own Association and its assets and liabilities.
CONSOLIDATED BALANCE SHEET
Fixed Assets: Cash: Still listed in black ink.
The Cub: A publication that has been issued continuously since 1943 and post war, since August 1946. It has consistently fulfilled our needs in a very superior fashion.
Memorial at St. Vith, 1959: An appropriate and beautiful commemoration to our fallen in Europe.
Division History, 1949: The most detailed and complete record written of a poignant period in our corporate history.
Reunions: A series of 13 extremely successful and enjoyable events.
Intangible Assets: Herein lies the true worth of our institution. It consists of men and women who find pleasure in meeting together each year. From the first 1946 issue of the CUB: “Lasting friendships do not always depend on long periods of comradeship. The sacrifices, trial and sufferings in the crucible of the Bulge have created a unity of purpose and friendship which will last as long as two men of the Division survive.”
When the association was in the throes of organization during the year 1946, Herb Livesey conceived a paying membership of 2,500 to 3,000. We do owe him a great debt of gratitude. For 19 months, while on a salary basis only 7 of them, and working more than 40 hours a week on Association business, his paid assistants transferred from rosters of all kinds and condition some 41,000 names to usable card files.
Herb's only fault was a too ambitious program on too grand a scale. In this he was joined by most of the Board.
Results did not measure to anticipation. The very expensive mailing to 41,000 continued. By 1947 our membership reached 1,000, increasing to about 1,500 at the Indianapolis convention. Since, it has dropped to a low 200 and had climbed to nearly 300 in the last few years. Dedicated members have advanced various means to reduce this liability. For to it is tied the very heart of our corporate existence. These ideas are all good but the results have never reached our need. Perhaps soon the magical means will be worked out so that we may grow to a permanent and stable number.
Reserve For Contingencies...
On July 26, 1946 a letter was written as follows: “No matter who this disagrees with, this is how I feel. Our Army went through France like a house afire. As far as the press and the country as a whole were concerned, the Army stopped inside Germany in November, 1944 to get more supplies. Then what happened? The Bulge started. The great invincible U.S.Army was getting the hell kicked out of it. Why? How can this be? There must be a reason. Well, who could ask for a more perfect scapegoat than a division that had but a week of combat (It was three days‑AWJ). Nobody dared admit that the Jerries were pretty good. Armor and hordes of troops against infantry who hit and run, hit and run, for five or six days with no supply of food, water or ammunition, cut off from the whole world? Who snafu'd the German time table? Who held St. Vith? Every single one of these questions can be answered with the words ‑ THE 106th.
“I don't doubt for a minute that our Army Commander was at fault for permitting a salient such as ours to exist, knowing full well that it could be cut off from the base or rear. But no living man can deny the fact that no matter what outfit was in the same spot, none could have escaped our fate..... As for someone's suggestion ”let sleeping dogs lie" I say “Not on your life. Not when the SOB bit me..
“We have used the above with the authors permission. We like it. Knowing the author. We don't worry about him being mad at us.”
Editor's Note : We present herewith the start of a second year of columns by a contributor who prefers to be identified by initials only. For the benefit of late tuners in, we repeat the offer contained in the first column a year ago: “If you would like to know the reason (and result if any) for a specific happening or activity occurring in the Division during the years 1943 and 1944, write and ask the column! The only qualifications are that you give your full name and former organization and that you are a paid‑up member of the Division Association. If you do not want your name to appear in the reply, say so. The door is wide open”. Your editor will be pleased to forward any such inquiries.
The last Tuesday in July, dawned, as most last Tuesdays in July have dawned, “Hot, humid, with a chance of afternoon and evening showers.” By noon the car was loaded, house checked, doors locked and we were feeling our way through mounting traffic, destined to reach a crescendo by late afternoon and then gradually decrease, until early morning would see only a trickle. Question: Why don't we start in the late evening and drive all night? The new bypass at Richmond and Petersburg is wonderful to behold, Shades of 1865. Riding high and free above the grime of industrialized cities has removed much of the curse of modern overland travel.
Southeast for Petersburg leads to the friendly and pleasant town of Elizabeth City, in North Carolina on the inland waterway, where we have had many happy stops. On Wednesday, down the Coast to Myrtle Beach, and sorry that we stopped there for it has changed through the years to a garish honky tonk. Next time we shall stop at Georgetown or one of the more beautiful beaches along the way. Thursday was purposely planned as a short run through Savannah and Thunderbolt to Wilmington Island and the General Oglethorpe Hotel. There we found air conditioned comfort, a staff most anxious to please, and our friends.
The next three days followed the pattern of our special type of reunion. Mostly social, but with a sufficient number of required meetings so that we met the golf players: time moved too fast. Attendance at the business meetings was good, and it really was not much more rigged than the big shot conventions which nominate our National tickets. Elsewhere in the CUB you will probably read the list of our new officers, the financial report and any resolutions which may have been passed. This column states, without equivocation, that it is in favor of the slate of officers. This is a gratuitous plug, since nominated candidates have already been elected, but we want to be in favor of what we did.
Among the items discussed, was the Association Memorial in St. Vith. It stands completed but unchristened and not yet dedicated. The construction has been paid for, but money is still needed for planting around the Monument and installation of the plaque. Not being an expert on the wording for plaques, we do not attempt to compose one. But we do know that we have Association members who have advanced degrees in allied subjects, and we suggest that they get off their behind and write something fitting and proper.
Concerning the dedication of our memorial we put forth with the following ideas. As is true with almost any event of this kind, expense money is the governing factor. It has been suggested that this writer travel on “space available” to Belgium and be present for the ceremonies.
We do not think that is the correct solution. The Memorial is not an official Army Monument. It is different, probably, than any other of its kind. It was conceived and built, not under the auspices of the Battle Monuments Association, but by the 106th Division Association, standing alone unaided, just as the Division stood fifteen years ago. It seems, then, that there is one individual who is completely qualified and who has certainly earned the right to arrange the final touches. Doug Coffey is the person most responsible for successful completion of the project and is the man to represent us. He is entitled to the trip at the expense of the Association. There are not sufficient funds in our treasury for this purpose.Therefore,this column proposes that a fund be established and called “Memorial Fund, Dedication Division”. This fund to be qualified to assure that no money will be collected until the full amount has been pledged. Someone estimated that about five hundred dollars will be required. There is an old bit of Americana which says “Put your Money where your mouth is Mister.”This column will do just that and hereby pledges one hundred dollars to the above fund. And will be very happy to pay it.
Before leaving the reunion, we will say that our former boss, the CUB editor, did a good job in material published. He had real difficulties, but the CUB is still strong and healthy and ready to go.
After the memorial services, as traditionally conducted by Chaplain Loveless, we headed south into Florida. At Orlando, we found children and grandchildren and swimming pools and hamburgers and much activity. It is a fast growing, fine young city. The Orlando Sentinel is published there, and prints daily and lively column entitled “Hush Puppies” by one Henry Balch. We were told that he had on occasion mentioned the 106th Division in a very friendly manner. We tried to get in touch, but he was out of town. There, Richard, is a prospect and we suggest an application blank to him.
Invest in the “Memorial Fund, Dedication Division” and gain social position, promotion, great wealth, health and happiness. Yea Lions!
Since the comparatively quiet days of summer, the pace of national and world events has accelerated with increasing tempo. It has made errand boys of news reporters as they run from press conference to press conference with time only to copy a tornado of words. Columnists and news analysts must prepare their material for the next deadline, or it's as stale as their jokes.
There is no time for thorough, checking, and evaluation. At least that is the way it appears to be from daily reading of spot news and columns. But are political developments actually occurring so rapidly, or is our bewilderment the result of the tremendous out‑pouring of propaganda, all designed to convince by quantity and repetition?
Read the following and consider it:
“Turning to the question of Germany and the unification of the truncated Reich: There is unanimity in the West on the position that Berlin is part and parcel of the German problem in total, and that they can not be separated. There may be no decision involving Berlin unilaterally.
“It is also agreed that the western leaders should find out what Nikita Khrushchev means by peaceful coexistence. Does he mean this idyllic state of affairs to be defined as the West would define, or does he believe it means a situation in which there is no opposition anywhere in the world to a militant Communist Philosophy?
“There was an editorial today in the London Daily Express, which coincidentally appeared on the 15th anniversary of the Battle of the Bulge; two days ago in 1944 the Germans struck the American lines in the vicinity of St. Vith. Yesterday was the in‑between‑day for the 106th Division. All along the line in southern Belgium near Luxembourg border the German columns spewed death and destruction. The 106th Division had never been in action before. It was composed for the most part of very young men, who had been stripped of their junior officer personnel which had been used for replacements in older divisions), resulting in men entering battle under command of men whom they hardly knew. When the panzers and German infantry struck, these youngsters fought as best they could, but the power and weight of the attacking units crushed them into small pockets and they were forced to surrender.
“If fault there was, it is to be found in the decision made by the men who put the 106th into line on the front of the size to require three divisions and unbacked by reserves. It is what is known as calculated risk, just as America is teaming up today with West Germany in a calculated risk, because never before have Germans, West or East, North or South, ever been on our side. Always they have stood against us.
“The Daily Express said today: While German strength is being rebuilt, Germany is being defended by British troops. It is easy to understand American policy towards Germany.
“The United States is building up a front against Russia, but what a strange policy for Britain to take part in. To build up Germany again, to mobilize Britain's strength and money in order to bring back to life a nation that has twice challenged Britain in battle, whose objectives are abhorrent to the British people. These words were read by the British people today, and they reveal that there is still a deep current of feeling against the Germans.”
The above might well have been copied from a newspaper or magazine printed yesterday. But it was not. It is a portion of Cedric Foster's broadcast of almost exactly a year ago. It demonstrates, we believe, that the problems confronting our Nation do not change a great deal from year to year, only the propagandists and their style and location change.
Just as the mistakes of the formation and organization of the defenses of the Bulge are excused by their authors as a calculated risk, so do the more recent authors of national policy often rely on the face saving excuse of the calculated risk. The dip in the prestige of the United States was started with the launching of Sputnik and was speeded in a series of rocket‑like thrust by the U‑2 incident, the complete wreck of the Summit Conference, the Tokyo riots, the collapse of the Disarmament Conference, the venomous mouthing of the Cuban wild man, and other events which have undoubtedly occurred between the writing of this column and its publication.
Our embarrassment of the U‑2 flight came, not from the flight itself, but from the timing and the incoherent and contradictory explanations. This flight was undoubtedly a calculated risk, as were the Ardennes defensive arrangement, but it most assuredly gave cunning Kruckie a stratosphere‑sent grievance on a silver platter without risk, calculated or otherwise, to break up a meeting in a manner which, for the USSR, contained far better propaganda than the meeting could possibly have given.
Our newly elected President will be faced with an abundance of leftover problems in addition to those which are certain to come in the immediate future. We, all of us, pray that by constant attention to duty, the appointment of competent assistants and with good judgment and good luck, he will lead us to our rightful place in the world.
“The memorable first two week of training of the 106th Division introduced a new weapon,” wrote Art Kuespert in the October, 1948 issue of the CUB, “a weapon expressly designed for use during the various phases of training, a weapon which was used extensively by our Division ‑ in short, the immortal bag lunch.” He goes on to write, “With about 150 men, each company needed at least 450 sandwiches, figuring to require 45 loaves of bread, 300 slices of meat, sandwich spread and dried up apples.” Kuespert points out that 45 loaves have 90 heels, but that others have alleged that by special arrangement our cooks were provided with four heels per loaf. Then he goes on to explain “The most drastic change from the usual monotony was the introduction of the choker sandwich unit. This system provides the atmosphere of the Sahara desert in a paper bag, being one dry‑ingredient sandwich, usually cheese, and the other always peanut butter, to be issued on a day when no water was available.
These quotations have been used to answer a question concerning the ancestry of the title of this column. In presenting evidence for the defense, we point out that the District of Columbia Highway Department, ably backed by the Director, Sanitation and sewer dept., Operations Division, announced in January that it was prepared, with detailed plans, for the removal and disposal of the remains of 75,000 bag lunches, upon completion of the Inaugural Parade, recently held here by a group of Democrats. We hold to the self‑evident truth that any product that is willingly, even happily accepted by 75,000 of our citizens of whatever political persuasion, must have something in common with our national aspirations. This type of reasoning, known as the unscientific method, encourages us to continue, and to feel free to discuss almost anything that comes to mind.
Consider, for example, the many variations of the Martini Cocktail which depends for its sweetness or dryness on the proportions with which gin and vermouth are used. A Gibson is not considered separately in this essay since it varies only in the use of a pickled onion instead of the traditional olive. A vast amount of bother has been raised concerning the custom of stirring over shaking. It is hotly contended that the latter bruises the gin and results in a clouded appearance. We share this school of though but hasten to admit that a refusal to ingest the “shook up” variety is no proof of anything whatever. When in New York we like to be invited to the Cub Room. We like to be invited anywhere, but this bistro affords added pleasure because its name lends dignity and purpose to our visit. Bar practice at the Stork favors the more non‑controversial spooning, but the management will oblige by having them mixed in a cement mixer or butter churn if that is what the customer wants. In this discussion of advanced medicine, where the barkeep must adequately fill the function of physician, advisor on the market, races and romance while serving as bail bondsman and bouncer, a poll of these aristocrats at the Ritz bars of Paris and New York, and reaching from the Hurricane bar in Flushing to the County Strip in Los Angeles by way of the Chicago Pump Room, the Prescott Westward Ho and the Old Absinthe House in New Orleans provided the not astonishing fact that on the Eastern seaboard gins and scotches are preferred, bourbon and rum are enjoyed in the South, and on the West Coast they drink anything.
We would not have dared to write these trivia except that while you are reading, we are well out on the Pacific, having sailed from Vancouver on April 10th and now beyond reach of the power of a subpena. Hong Kong and Japan in early May, Saigon, Singapore, Colomo, India, Port Said and Rome by June. Then Venice, the French Riviera, Rhone Valley and Paris, London and home. We expect to return in early July, just in time to pick up our clean laundry and see you in Fort Worth.
Francis Bacon started the whole thing 350 years ago when he wrote that travel of the younger sort, is a part of education; for the elder, a part of experience. What you need is experience and what your kids need is education. You can obtain both in a most pleasant way by planning now for your trip to Fort Worth in July.
This column has always been inclined to look toward current happenings and trends. However, in this time of fast breaking news, it would seem pleasant to take the time to look back at what is rapidly becoming the distant past, and remember events you may have forgotten.
Do you recall that when the Division was organized on March 15, 1943, Our average age was 21 years, and that this average included all of the officers and an older cadre from the 80th Division. That the men of the 592d Field Artillery Battalion were the youngest, averaging 20.1 years and that the oldest men were in the 81st Engineer Battalion which averaged 25.0 years.
That in the period extending from the end of basic training, in July, 1943, until just prior to our departure overseas we lost, as replacements to other divisions, trained soldiers in the shocking number of 600 officers of 840 and 10,600 enlisted men of our original total of 16,000. And that the personnel sections of the War Department and the Army Ground Forces thus placed upon us the penalty for their incredible lack of foresight in replacement programming.
That we were the 31st division to be formed in the group of 42, exclusive of the Regular Army and National Guard, which were organized during World War II, and that we carried the largest numerical designation of any similar unit.
That our people were 99% insured by the National Life Insurance of the Veterans Administration, that 14,400 men had the full amount of $10,000 and the total, including those with lesser amounts, reached $157,000,000. Also, you probably never knew that on June 17, 1944 there were 81 men AWOL, 30 were waiting trial and 84 were in the poky. You will certainly remember that we went to maneuvers in Tennessee in a cold January and engaged in daily exercises with 3 other divisions until late in March. That we received the best rating of all four divisions in both administrative and tactical activities, and that as a result we went from there to Camp Atterbury near Indianapolis instead of to a backwoods camp.
That the Division captured the German “GREIF” plan on the first day of their attack, and that was the single most important factor in the regrouping necessary to stop their penetration, and that the last combat assignment of the Division was on February 9, 1945 as the right flank unit of the First Army in their advance to the Rhine.
You may not have known that our memorial at St. Vith is unique in that it is the only one of its kind erected by a group other than the American Battle Monuments Commission, and that because of this there was talk in that agency concerning our private business, but they found they were faced with a “fait accompli” which means, we think, “like stymied, man.”
That our next reunion is to be in Annapolis which was first settled under the name of Providence in 1695. You should remember to be there July 26 to July 29 because “It's the thing to do in '62.”
by A. W. J.
Now that July had arrived almost unnoticed, Alice became more and more concerned with making arrangements to go to Annapolis. “What day of the month is it?” she asked her newfound friend, the lion cub. He considered this question for a moments and answered, “Well, it's Monday.” “Two days wrong,” sighed Alice, “I told you that watch was not properly made because it tells the day of the month but does not tell what o'clock it is.” “Well,” muttered the young lion, “Does your watch tell you what year it is?” “Of course not,” Alice retorted very readily: “but that is because there is a convention every year, so that I only need to know what day of the month it is.” “Well, that is just the case with my watch, too,” said the nineteen year old cub. Alice felt dreadfully puzzled. Her friend's remark seemed to her to have no meaning in it and yet is was in English. “Well then,” said the dogged lion, “since we have met twice in Indianapolis, Chicago, Detroit, Atlantic City and Savannah, also once each in Pittsburgh, Baltimore, Columbus, Philadelphia, and Fort Worth, who cares what time it is?”
“Why do you start every sentence with the word `well'?” asked Alice. “Well, of course I have to attend all these Presidential press conferences for my magazine, since it's named after me. While most of this happened back in the fifties, it is still considered the only way you can start a sentence in Washington, and get people to listen to you.” “I listen to you,” said Alice, “Like that drink you offered me last winter, since it is not marked 'poison,' I'll try it now.” So Alice ventured to taste it and found the taste was very nice indeed. It had a sort of mixed flavor of cherry‑tart, custard, pineapple, roast turkey, toffee and hot buttered toast. She very soon finished it off.
“What a curious feeling,” thought Alice, “and where am I?” As her eyes gradually came into focus, she saw that there was a beautiful young lady sitting behind a table. On the table was a single red rose and a sign which read, “Register Here.” Behind the table was a large plaque showing a golden face super‑imposed on a blue background surrounded by a white and red border. “This must be a Very Important Person,” thought Alice, “and his expression certainly makes me think he must be my friend's immediate ancestor.” After registering and paying her fee in money from her collection of ancient coins, she said to the lovely Receptionist: “Please, I would like to see President Ben Hagman, Vice President Henry Broth, Adjutant General Richard DeHeer, Chaplain John Loveless, Editor Wayne Black and Ambassador Doug Coffey, in that order, and never mind saying that they are too busy, because I know that ice does not melt in just a few minutes.”
“What do you want to see them about?” asked the Cutie Pie at the table. “I don't want to see them about anything,” answered Alice, “I just want to see them. Isn't Ben Hagman worth coming this far to talk to, especially when he is the President of the soundest Corporation in business. Also there is that famous Editor, well known all over this Nation. I hear, too, that he is a bachelor, and since my only friend is a lion cub, we both might learn to like lions. As anchor man on my list, I've placed Doug Coffey, who has placed our Association on the international map. This makes public my regard for his vision and drive. Furthermore, I may interview them. Of course, they won't talk but even so it is entirely possible, in a column, to hold an interview with no one present at all.”
There is a new word circulating around our town. Taken from the Greek “Cybernetics,” which means “steersman” or “governor,” it has developed into broader usage and in daily governmental gobbledygook refers to machines whose automation is being carried forward to a point of logical mechanical deductive processes, until the making of complicated decisions may finally become their prerogative. It is all pretty frightening, and some day we may see the development of an anti‑automation service headed by an assistant vice president. An electronic salesgirl, now being tested, can sell 36 items in 10 styles and sizes. She will accept credit cards, bills and coins, give the correct change and politely refuse Confederate money. On the other hand, perhaps this sort of creature might result in a big improvement in the waitress situation in some joints we visit. Then there was the 81‑year‑old citizen who employed cybernation in picking a wife. It is quite understandable that, at his age, he could be excused for not taking impetuous chances. He consulted a computing machine, describing the charms and configuration of the various ladies of marriageable age in whom he was most interested. After pondering on the subject for a microsecond, it announced in no uncertain terms, “Wow.”
Since these machines are readily available, we decided to punch a few cards and obtain information about our former associates. We fed it a packet of papers associated with robot operations and asked for information on the average former member of the Division. As it ingested this material an astonished look appeared on the magnetic physiognomy before us, and after suppressing a burp it produced the following essay.
The average former member of the 106th Division entered service from the eastern half of the country with an AGCT rating placing him in Group III, 7.24 percentage of him came to us from the ASTC, 9.8 percent was cadre, only 3 percent was augmentation, the remainder being known as fillers, or more commonly as “bodies” to the trade. He was thoughtful of those at home (after coercion by personnel) and carried $9,976.32 of government insurance. He behaved himself well, as evidenced by the fact that less than one‑half of 1 percent of him was court‑marshaled in a given month. His AWOL rate was 4 per thousand against an Army rate of 12 for the same period. He served for a period of 3 years, 2 months, and 4 days, receiving pay of $2,288.82, plus rations and blankets. This average soldier traveled a distance of 14,391 miles by truck, ship and train. He very probably hiked the same distance since he wore out 5.5 pairs of shoes, including the ones he wore home.
But enough ancient history. We are now looking at the present ex‑106er. He is 43.8 years of age, married with 3.1 teenagers and lives in a three‑bedroom house that has two baths, which he considers not enough. His total gross income, as shown on his most recent tax return, is $5,873.43 of which he spends $5,731.20 annually. His hair line has started to recede and of late years he has noticed a number of grayish type hairs appearing above his weakening ears. These symptoms, coupled with less and less desire to exercise and more and more inclination toward slippers and immobility, are truly disturbing. But be of good cheer, for you know full well that you are far above a norm established by a mechanical gadget, and that these age indicators could not possibly apply to you. We agree that our computing machine did not refer to you at all, but if there is any doubt existing in your mind, if there is even a slight feeling of “Well, maybe I am slipping just a little bit,” you are approaching the end. The only known cure for your condition is a prompt and firm decision to attend the reunion in New Jersey next July 23 to 26. We guarantee complete rejuvenation.
In the December, 1966 issue of the CUB appeared a page entitled “Hail to the Chief‑ and Farewell.” This column is in receipt of a copy of the Assembly, a publication of the association of Graduates, U.S. Military Academy, which also contains an obituary of our late Chief of Staff, William Clyde Baker, Jr., and it seems fitting that you should read the final paragraph which I have extracted from it. “Fine as his accomplishments were this man was himself finer still, for he was a man of truly natural humanity. He exemplified in his daily life his deep belief in the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man. He has earned a peaceful rest.” There is little any one can add, except to say “Amen.”
No one present at our most recent convention will deny the fact that it was a first class, superior type reunion. We all hasten to congratulate John Shalhoub and his ever lovin' wife Evelyn, together with their able partners Jack and Emily Bryant for a job well done. The after‑lunch address by our own Larry Gubow undoubtedly ranked as one of the best we have listened to at any convention. He got his message across with unusual wit and humor. We wonder how deeply involved he became after the rest of us had left town. Our visit to the beautiful Canadian Island of BOB‑LO and dinner in Windsor were both high lights of our meeting. A special accolade goes to Sherod Collins for continuing a chore which he does so efficiently, and to Robert Holden and his wife for editing the CUB this year. This keeps us alive.
This column is now in a position to state, based on a report from an unimpeachable Source, that basic training as now practiced in the USATC, Infantry, is in no way relaxed from the strenuous training you received in the early forties. On the contrary, my Source reports that it has been greatly intensified when compared with stories told by his middle aged friends of their experiences. Perhaps we can better evaluate what is actually happening by quoting from an official Army document, “Basic Training of eight weeks is designed to convert a civilian into a highly trained, disciplined, psychologically motivated basic soldier.” Comment: That would seem to take some doing, but we are assured that it does happen. The document continues, “During the first three weeks he takes general military subjects.” Comment: Remember? That means close order drill, physical conditioning, guard duty, kitchen police and the lot. And then, “The fourth week is devoted to range firing: and this is intensive and may extend in the fifth week.” Comment: He is up at 0430, marches three miles to the range, fires and pulls target all day, marches three miles back to barracks where he will arrive either dedicated or dead. Next according to the report, “Individual training is concentrated on during the sixth week. Then, three days of the seventh week are spent in the field, and this period includes 19 hours, or 40 miles of tactical marches.” Comment: This is the only evidence we have seen in the entire report of any softness in the program, 40 miles in 19 hours adds up to 2.1 miles per hour where you did a fast 3 miles, or 2.5 counting halts. Somewhere along the line they have lost a half mile, and never even mentioned bag lunches.
Following basic training, the soldier is given advanced training for another eight weeks in a particular branch of the Army, based on his background, aptitude and desire. Upon completion of this training he will join a tactical or logistical unit for further training. The system is good, it has proved itself many times, it has achieved success. The Army Chief of Staff, who in August made his eighth visit to Vietnam, considers men trained under the present system “better soldiers than their fathers and older brothers from World War II and Korea.” HE SAID IT...WE DIDN'T.
Two and a half decades ago we came to Columbia and Fort Jackson, sixteen thousand of us, fresh troops from towns and countryside of every section of our nation. We arrived on the Ides of March and Columbia s newspaper “The State” had this to say about us, “Fort Jackson today formally became the home of a new division, the 106th, which will be trained at one of the nation's largest training centers, the National Colors presented to men of the division and speakers introduced. The principal speaker, Governor Olin D. Johnston of South Carolina, welcomed the division to Columbia and cordially invited the men to visit the city and get acquainted.”
We immediately began a busy program, which was to take us through the midwest and eastern states, then England, France, Belgium and into Germany. We did many other things also, it was only a short time later that the same paper reported, “The Fort Jackson championship boxing tournament ended amidst a flurry of flying fists and howls of delight or boos of disappointment depending on whether the judges and the crowd saw eye to eye. The 106th Division finished first with 80 points followed by the 100th Division with 60 and non‑division units with 45.” And later, headlines read, “106th DIVISION CLIMBS TO TOP. Held by the Century Division to one run during four innings, the 106th Division broke up a tight ball game with a barrage of five hits in the fifth inning and went on to win, 9‑3.”
And the next week end readers were told, “A southern‑styled barbecue was the setting yesterday at Fort Jackson's Twin Lakes for an outing in which more than 300 officers and men attended as guests of Mr. and Mrs. Winchester Smith of Williston. The party was given in honor of Private Norman Smith, their son, who is a member of Division Headquarters Company. The Division Orchestra `The Jive by Five' was on hand to add its usual smooth music to the gaiety of the party.”
Our first division review got the following write‑up, “Hundreds of residents of the Columbia area were on hand yesterday on the review field at the local post as the 106th Division passed in public review for the first time. With the massed Infantry and Artillery Bands blazing military music, the long columns of troops fell into formation for the march past the reviewing stand. It required more than half an hour for the foot troops, alone, to pass the stand. Their movements were in such perfect unison that words of praise were heard among the spectators. One of the high lights of the occasion took place when the Division Commander, in full view of the troops and the attending public, presented medals to Staff Sergeant Richard Nierman, Cumberland, Maryland and Private Robert K. Maahs, Savanna, Illinois, both of the 423rd Infantry, for outstanding acts of heroism which resulted in saving the life of a fellow soldier, who, while repairing a bridge, slipped and fell into the swift current of the Wateree River. Seeing this soldier helpless and unable to swim, these two men dived into the river fully clothed and swam to his assistance.”
And just to prove that life here, 25 years ago, was not all beer and skittles, we extract the following from the local paper, “The training given at Fort Jackson embraces torturous obstacle and physical and mental conditioning courses, twenty‑five mile marches, movement under actual machine gun fire and rigorous tests. In fact, this training is so tough that officers and men over forty are excused from the more difficult portions.”
It was here, too, that Copy No. 1 of Volume 1 of the CUB was printed. It consisted of eight pages in tabloid newspaper format. Featured in the first edition were pictures of Ginger Rogers and other bathing beauties whose names are lost in time. Milton Caniff's strip “Male Call” displayed the ”All Soldier Show entitled Guardhouse Gayeties." There was a story about a ghost who lived in the barracks of Service Company, 422d Infantry and a list of Company and Battery barbers. Our first issue was brought to a fitting climax by someone who put at the end of the last page a latin motto “Illegitimas non cortorindum.”
by AWJ & L. T. McM.
9 Jan. 1969
The distinguished writer of this column since 1959, (General Alan W. Jones) affectionately known over the years to Golden Lions, their ladies and families as, THE OLD MAN, is ill in Walter Reed Army Hospital in Washington. The undersigned phoned him today. In the course of the conversation AWJ mentioned that he had received notice from John Fritz, CUB Editor, to have all copy in by Jan. 20 for publication 1 February. He said he could not do the column this month and doubted that he would ever be able to do it in the future. He asked me to take it over. This association has been his pride and joy. It has received his devotion and dedication since the first reunion in Indianapolis in 1947. He started this column after the second Chicago Convention and in each succeeding issue we have read with interest and benefit his advice to the organization and his amusing and sparkling comments on current events.
23 Jan. 1969.
We have just received word that General Jones passed away early yesterday morning at Walter Reed Army Hospital.
This is certainly sad news to all Golden Lions, their wives and families who have enjoyed the Annual Reunion with Al & Alys Jones. On behalf of all of them we extend deepest sympathy to Alys Jones, her son Col. Alan W. Jones, Jr., a member of the association and her daughter, Mrs. E. H. Vom‑orde.
Leo T. McMahon Divarty
(Memorial to Maj. Gen. Alan W. Jones 1894‑1969)
Members of the Association who served at any time with the active division from its activation at Ft. Jackson, S.C. 15 Mar. 1943 to its inactivation at Camp Shanks N.Y. 2 OCT 1945, are familiar with the works of the Medical officers and corpsmen comprising the Medical units assigned to their respective organizations.
In training and combat they gave dedicated support and most of our wounded and some of our dead passed through their hands. They suffered casualties in combat and some medical units and individuals were captured in the Battle of the Ardennes.
A number of these Medics have been active in the organization and continued growth of the Association. In reviewing the CUBS from the first post war issue of August 1946 to VOL. 29 No. 4 of July‑August‑September 1973 the following names were noted: David S. Price, Staff Sgt. Co. D 331st Med.Bn. attended the organizational meeting at Camp Lucky Strike, France, September 1945, was elected President of the Assn., served as Cub editor and treasurer. Did yeoman work to keep the organization going in its first 5 years. Now Dr. PHD in Albany N.Y.
Lt. Col M.S. Belzer, Div. Surgeon, attended organizational meeting at Camp Lucky Strike, France: a long time member. Now a physician in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
Major Gaylord Fridline, Regt'l Surgeon 423 Inf. Very active in the Association until he became ill. He and Mrs. Fridline donated the Division colors to the Association at the same time General and Mrs. Jones donated the National colors. Dr. Fridline passed away some years ago.
Major Gerald Cessna, Bn Surgeon 81st Engr. Bn. a physician in Pittsburgh, Pa. An early and active member. Was Chairman of the 5th annual Reunion at Pittsburgh in July 1951.
Capt. Michael S. Connelly, BN Surg. 589th FA Bn. a member of the Association since it organization and consistent supporter. Is a surgeon in Sharon, Pa.
Major John E. Ketterer, Division Dental Surgeon. Active since the organization, attended many reunions. Now a dentist in Springfield, Ill.
The Medics of the Association were brought to mind by certain happenings of the past two years. The 25th Annual Reunion was held at Valley Forge, Holiday Inn, King of Prussia, Pa. 22‑24 July 1971. Among the former Medics attending were Dr. George M. Bullard (Med. Det. 590 FAB) and Dr. James I Clark (Med. Det. 590th FA bn) Fennville, Mich. These two Corpsmen, while on active duty were urged by Major Joseph F. Dreier, Divarty surgeon to attend Medical school after the war, which they did. Major Dreier, who was ill and unable to attend the reunion lived at Bear Creek, Pa. Drs. Bullard and Clark drove up to see him. Mrs. Dreier reported that their visit was a great delight to Major Dreier. He passed away May 13, 1972.
During the Reunion Dr. Bullard was elected Vice President of the Association and Dr. Clark agreed to be chairman of the 27th Reunion at Grand Rapids, Mich. in July 1973. At the 26th Reunion in Jacksonville, Florida in July 1972 Dr. Bullard was elected President of the association. In June, 1973 members were shocked to learn that President Bullard suffered a heart attack on 6 June and passed away the same day.
The 27th annual Reunion was held 12‑13‑14 July 1973 at Mr. President Motor Inn Grand Rapids, Mich. The Co‑Chairmen were Dr. Jim Clark and his wife Shirley, assisted by Mr. and Mrs. Richard Jochems Sr. of Grand Rapids (a new member, served with Div. Hq.) and Mr. and Mrs. Jack Bryant. This dynamic group put on a diverse and interesting schedule of events which are covered elsewhere in this issue.
The memorial service was held on Sat. at 3 p.m. on the grounds of the Veterans Facility in Grand Rapids. The setting was out of doors in a grove of trees, beside a lake, with the Colors and Color Guard provided by a veterans organization. Our chaplain conducted an impressive service for our departed members with particular mention of our late President, George Bullard M.D.
It's Spring Again
Thirty years ago, believe it or not on 15 March 1943, the 106th Infantry Division was activated at Fort Jackson South Carolina. On 1 May the Division insignia, a lion's head, gold, on a blue background, representing the infantry, with a red border, indicating artillery support was donned.
On 20 January 1944 the Division moved by motor in three serials from Fort Jackson to the Tennessee maneuver area. It was springtime there when the Division arrived and for a week the men reveled in the sun. Then came the rains and the sleet and the snow. Rain fell for sixteen of February's twenty nine days (leap Year). Mud was everywhere; in bivouac, on the roads, on clothing and blanket. March came and with it seventeen more days of rain. And through it all the Golden Lions wallowed from maneuver to maneuver in a series of mock engagements of attack and defense. Looking at the time in retrospect, one might feel that Nature was doing her best to acclimate the 106th for its future in the Ardennes. On 27 March the 106th left the Tennessee maneuver area, moving in three serials closed at Camp Atterbury Indiana on 31 March, its final station in the U.S. On 7 March 1945, the 106th Infantry Division's combat role had ended, ended in victory, just seven miles northeast of the original left flank Schnee Eifel position of the Division on 16 December 1944. The Division moved out of the battle zone on 14 March traveling to St. Quentin France for reorganization, rehabilitation and training. At the same time it would become tactical reserve for the 66th Infantry Division in the attacks against the Nazi pockets of Lorient and S. Nazaire France. So the Division moved again to Rennes, ancient capital of Brittany, France. On 15 April in solemn ceremony, the 422nd and 423rd Infantry Regiments, the 589th and 590th Field Artillery Battalions and the 106th Reconnaissance Troop were reborn, receiving their respective colors, standards and guidons.
And the next day, 16 april 1945 the Division was tapped for its new assignment, Germany and the POWs. Leaving the reconstituted units attached to the 66th Division, the revamped 106th moved to the Rhine. By 25 April all elements had closed in. During a period of eleven weeks the 106th would stand guard over some 970,000 Germans and some eighteen other nationalities, would process through its cages more than a million and a quarter individuals of all ranks and ages and of both sexes. On 10 July the 106th was relieved of its POW assignment.
In the spring of 1946, the officers of the new 106th Infantry Division Association (organized 15 September 1945 at Camp Lucky Strike, France) with Secy. Treas. Col. H.B. Livesey Jr. in charge, spent months and thousands of dollars in building a roster of names of 35,000 veterans of the 65,000 who at one time were assigned or attached to the Division.
In the spring of 1947 they were busy with plans for the FIRST annual reunion of the Association at Indianapolis Ind. in July. And so it has been each succeeding spring.
In this year of our Lord 1974 our beloved Chaplain John Loveless, COGL is Chairman of the Committee arranging for the 28th (COUNT‑EM) Annual Reunion at Frederick MD. 18‑20 July. John was felled by a heart attack on 28 December 1973, but is making a good recovery. He informs me that Charles H. Schock, Sv. Btry 592 FA Bn. has stepped in and doing a fine job. working out the details with a number of trips back and forth between Baltimore and Frederick. We Pray that John Loveless will have recovered and be with us at Frederick as well as Lester S. Smyth, 106th Divarty of the Baltimore group who suffered a heart attack early in January 1974.
Leo T. McMahon
Bag Lunch — Memorial to General Alan W. Jones 1894‑1969
General Leo T. McMahon, Divarty
Pat Dohoney, former Lt. Company C, 422nd Inf., and for a number of years a dentist in Camp Hill Pa., phoned me on 16 April about the upcoming 31st Reunion at Elyria/Lorain Ohio July 21‑24. He and his wife Josephine, and Wilda and I flew out to Evansville together last year. It was their first reunion and they liked it.
This year the Dohoneys want to drive out to Elyria Ohio and invited Wilda and me to accompany them and we accepted. Pat was sending in his registration form with check that day. I am just getting to mine now (7 May) with registration and check to Bob Gilder. We like the scheduled events and look forward to it with much anticipation.
Pat and I also discussed the 1978 Miami‑Bahamas Reunion, July 20‑23. Josie Dohoney and Wilda McMahon appreciate Doug Coffeys thought of the ladies in planning the 1978 Reunion and their husbands are in strong agreement. We four like to cruise. I believe Pat has sent in his deposit. I advise Doug and Sherod Collins Treasurer that I have my $150 advance payment budgeted for 1 June. Ship Ahoy EMERALD SEAS!
MEMBERSHIP ‑ When that subject comes up one immediately thinks of the Association's Adjutant. What a remarkable one we are fortunate enough to have in Walter Bandurak, Med. Det, 81st Engr Bn. He underwent a very serious operation on 25 January in Allegheny General Hospital, Pittsburgh, Pa. for replacement of diseased aortic valve with a ball valve and has made a real recovery. On April 28 he wrote me that after his six week checkup on 8 March, the surgeon gave him permission to drive his personal automobile and to return to their third floor apartment in Greensburg, Pa. So he and Lillian did on 19 March. The doctors released him to go back to his State job full time on Monday 2 May (one week ago).
In his letter, Walter continued, “Since returning home to Greensburg, working on the 106th Golden Lion business has been a blessing to me, assisted by Lillian. Chuck and Willie Garn (H‑424), Bob Morrison (C‑424) and Bob Woods (G‑424) came over last Saturday for dinner and helped us to addressograph 2 sets of envelopes for mailing out of the CUBS. We appreciated their assistance since operating the addressograph machine would have bothered my chest and muscles.”
NOTE: We members who will read the CUBs should give three cheers to Walter our dedicated Adjutant, to Lillian his devoted wife and to the members named above who came in to help them.
REINSTATED MEMBER ‑ I was delighted to read in the last CUB that D.B. Frampton, Jr. 422‑Cannon Co., 170 North Roosevelt Ave., Columbus, Ohio 43209 was reinstated. He was a dedicated and hard working member of the first Board of Directors of this Association elected at the First Reunion at Indianapolis and which made some tough decisions at the second Reunion at Indianapolis affecting the future of the Association. Later he was elected President of the Association. I had the pleasure of meeting his father and mother at a Dec. 16 dinner in Pittsburgh. When the news of the Battle of the Bulge broke they organized “The Agony Grapevine” and did a remarkable job of getting in touch with the families of other Golden Lions in that combat. The Frampton family put on a memorable Reunion of the Association in Columbus. It was the 7th Reunion held at the Fort Hayes Hotel, 24, 25, 26 July 1953. I got this information from Vol. 10, No. 1 of the CUB, Aug.‑Sept. 1953. Doug Coffey was the Editor. On the front page was a photograph of President. D.B. (Pete) Frampton and President of the Auxiliary, Estelle Gubow. Walter Bandurak was elected to Board of Directors that year ‑ 1953.
Leo T. McMahon Divarty
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