Chapter 5
The Hospital
5-1 Sargent Emerson
Tony woke up, late in the morning the next day at the field hospital. He was drowsey from sedatives, but the pain in his chest and ankle was severe. He fell back to sleep.
Two hours later, they woke him and with a plate of food and suggested he eat something. As he started to eat, he took in the room. He recognized the man in the bed next to him. It was Sargent Emerson, from the 2nd group of five M8 tanks.
Tony asked Emerson how he was doing. Emerson was also a little groggy.
Emerson responded that hew as doing OK, but his right leg had a incessant itch.
Tony looked at the end of Emerson’s bed. Both of Emerson’s legs were missing. Tony asked Emerson, “What happened?”
Emerson said that shortly after Emerson’s squad had lefty, their M8’s proceeded up the hill to the village. About half way up, the second and third tank in the squad were taken out.
Tony recognized that he had been correct. There were two guns waiting to ambush allied forces at the West side of the village.
Dad’s memory of Sargent Emerson in the bed beside him, missing his legs, was one of the most haunting memories . Two tanks were taken out, with only two survivors from the two tanks.
He told it to me at least three times through the decades. The first time (I was about age 7) only conveyed his friend missing his legs, the irony of an itch from a leg that was not there, and making sure his son (me) realized the true and ruthless face of war. The second time Tony recounted this experience (I was about age 10), and the recounting was very similar to the first. The third time (I was in my 30’s). This time he provided more details:
Emerson was in the second group of tanks that headed up the hill after Tony had spotted the two guns and Walson’s avid argument with command, which was rather unusual for the normally gungho Walson. Dad proceeded to recount the discussion, starring into a space beside me, as if in a trance. Then he provided another detail. Emerson told Tony the the scout in the their lead tank was a German.
When dad said this. I immediately spoke. “What do you mean he was a German?” “Do you mean he was a spy?” “You had German spies in key translation positions?” Dad was silent. A silence as if he said something that was on his mind for 50 years. As if he said it without thinking, but as a flow of his thoughts.
Dad spoke no further on the subject. But it was clear, this was a deeply emotional detail to dad.
What must be realized is that a spoken thought or a memory is not a fact. And whether or not true, there can be unfair consequences simply from speaking the words. The war was over. Many bad things have happened. But the war was over.
When dad had to turn over the German prisoners to the French for certain execution (back in August), he was traumatized, but never challenged an order he knew he was to obey. He saw the dead women and children and the crying men. But, those Germans were speaking a rare German dialect, the same dialect dad had spoken from his first words and before he could speak English.
Dad was not the gungho soldier type, however, as the oldest son in a large family, he learned to take responsibility for those in his care. I believe that conviction entered a new level after he saw Emerson in the bed next him.
5-3 A Purple Heart Declined
Two days later, a Lieutenant visited the hospital, to meet the injured and present purple hearts. The Lieutenant thanked Tony for his service and proceeded to give Tony a purple heart.
Tony informed the lieutenant that he did not want that damn purple heart. It was not a matter of disrespect. Tony felt he had let the squad down by getting injured.
The lieutenant then asked Tony what he did want. Tony said that he wanted to pain to go away and to go back to his tank crew and squad.
Tony woke up, late in the morning the next day at the field hospital. He was drowsey from sedatives, but the pain in his chest and ankle was severe. He fell back to sleep.
Two hours later, they woke him and with a plate of food and suggested he eat something. As he started to eat, he took in the room. He recognized the man in the bed next to him. It was Sargent Emerson, from the 2nd group of five M8 tanks.
Tony asked Emerson how he was doing. Emerson was also a little groggy.
Emerson responded that hew as doing OK, but his right leg had a incessant itch.
Tony looked at the end of Emerson’s bed. Both of Emerson’s legs were missing. Tony asked Emerson, “What happened?”
Emerson said that shortly after Emerson’s squad had lefty, their M8’s proceeded up the hill to the village. About half way up, the second and third tank in the squad were taken out.
Tony recognized that he had been correct. There were two guns waiting to ambush allied forces at the West side of the village.
Dad’s memory of Sargent Emerson in the bed beside him, missing his legs, was one of the most haunting memories . Two tanks were taken out, with only two survivors from the two tanks.
He told it to me at least three times through the decades. The first time (I was about age 7) only conveyed his friend missing his legs, the irony of an itch from a leg that was not there, and making sure his son (me) realized the true and ruthless face of war. The second time Tony recounted this experience (I was about age 10), and the recounting was very similar to the first. The third time (I was in my 30’s). This time he provided more details:
Emerson was in the second group of tanks that headed up the hill after Tony had spotted the two guns and Walson’s avid argument with command, which was rather unusual for the normally gungho Walson. Dad proceeded to recount the discussion, starring into a space beside me, as if in a trance. Then he provided another detail. Emerson told Tony the the scout in the their lead tank was a German.
When dad said this. I immediately spoke. “What do you mean he was a German?” “Do you mean he was a spy?” “You had German spies in key translation positions?” Dad was silent. A silence as if he said something that was on his mind for 50 years. As if he said it without thinking, but as a flow of his thoughts.
Dad spoke no further on the subject. But it was clear, this was a deeply emotional detail to dad.
What must be realized is that a spoken thought or a memory is not a fact. And whether or not true, there can be unfair consequences simply from speaking the words. The war was over. Many bad things have happened. But the war was over.
When dad had to turn over the German prisoners to the French for certain execution (back in August), he was traumatized, but never challenged an order he knew he was to obey. He saw the dead women and children and the crying men. But, those Germans were speaking a rare German dialect, the same dialect dad had spoken from his first words and before he could speak English.
Dad was not the gungho soldier type, however, as the oldest son in a large family, he learned to take responsibility for those in his care. I believe that conviction entered a new level after he saw Emerson in the bed next him.
5-3 A Purple Heart Declined
Two days later, a Lieutenant visited the hospital, to meet the injured and present purple hearts. The Lieutenant thanked Tony for his service and proceeded to give Tony a purple heart.
Tony informed the lieutenant that he did not want that damn purple heart. It was not a matter of disrespect. Tony felt he had let the squad down by getting injured.
The lieutenant then asked Tony what he did want. Tony said that he wanted to pain to go away and to go back to his tank crew and squad.