My War and Stories from Another Era

Arnie Silverman

Description

Living through a solid share of significant, historical events, I must admit it has been a hell of an exciting, history-filled life. The Great Depression, World WW II, my combat in the Korean War, Vietnam, the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan, the amazing technological breakthroughs, McCarthy times, the Kennedys, Nixon, the Clintons, the Bushes, 9/11, Trump, the turmoil with Russia and the Ukraine, the pandemic and “January 6” all contributed to the drama of living. My personal impressions and memories of people I knew of those times are included in this collection. For those too young to have experienced the times, I hope the stories bring some enlightenment. For those who were “there” during those events, I hope to restore some cherished memories

Sujets

• War
• Autobiography
• Biography

Informations

• Publié par: AuthorHouse
• Date de parution: 05 avril 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9798823000062
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

MY WAR AND STORIES FROM ANOTHER ERA
 
 
 
 
 
 
ARNIE SILVERMAN
 
 
 
 
 

 
AuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.authorhouse.com
Phone: [phone]
 
 
 
 
 
 
© 2023 Arnie Silverman. All rights reserved.
 
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
 
Published by AuthorHouse   04/03/2023
 
ISBN: 979-8-8230-0005-5 (sc)
ISBN: 979-8-8230-0006-2 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023901566
 
 
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
With appreciation to daughter, Meryl Cook,
and the best of friends one could have, Ted Ellison.
CONTENTS
My War-Intro
Non-Grad
Fan Fall
2 at A Time
My First Night Patrol
Oh Captain My Captain
Garrison Harrison
The Call to Arms
Views of The Punch Bowl
Harmony in Hell
The “Raid”
The Big Bootlegger
Gallantry
Happy Holiday
The Rains Came and Home
Homecoming
Passing Parade
I
Memorial Day at Laguna Beach
Real Heroes
I Hate A Parade
No More
Memory of A Day Past
A True Purim Story
The Promise
Moish
Catskills Kid
My Bar Mitzvah Boy
The Shlemiel
Dem Boids
Car on The Cob
Brent
Great City
Meeting Maxine
Mentor Meditation
Relics
Reflection
Stan in Repose
Manny
Louie
Memoriam
We Mourn These Two
Ages
Chance Meeting
On Aging
Too Soon
Thoughts of Leon
Paths
Ad Complaint
Through The New York Southern Tier
Rats
Still Another Title Game
New Focus
La Grande Évasionon
Another BD (No Longer Counting)
Beach Boys
Bobby and The Times that Were
Getting Older
Credibility
End
Horizon
Bi-Man
Metamorphosis
Jean Shepherd
Perspective on “Fiddler”
Reggie
Sometimes Ah Feel
The Way it Was
Troubled Dudley
Reclamation
Nuttin
Yom K
My War-Intro
I guess I saw them all. I mean those weary, war movies with the “melting pot” infantry squads. You know -the alcoholic, Irish sergeant making life miserable for the gesticulating Italian, the tough but simple Greek, the Irish boy (innocent and trusting; usually first to get killed), the Anglo-Saxon, blond, “all American” boy and, of course, the wise cracking Jew from New York usually, depending on the movie’s budget, played by Sam Levine or John Garfield.
I was discharged from the Army in March of 1953. To this day when March rolls around, I think of Company M of the 3 rd battalion of the 35 th Regimental Combat Team of the 25 th Division of the 8 th Army. Our squad was not a melting pot; we did not fit Hollywood casting. We were, believe it or not, mostly New York Jews who somehow found ourselves in that 81mm mortar platoon on those God forgotten hills of South Korea in 1951. Oh, the platoon might have qualified. With Kevin Kelly, Paulio Bambino, John (Cornbread) Saunders, James Montgomery Rowan 111 and Jonas Haranzansky Napoli who was his own melting pot the elements were there.
My first platoon leader was a Lieutenant David Harris from some town in rural Alabama. He was probably the only officer in the history of the American Army who was intimidated by his own ½ minyan. When the talk of truce finally commenced and aggressive actions on both sides were at a minimum, “old” Harris (he was younger than I) would lie on one of the improvised bunks, drink his private stock of Jim Beam and sleep morning into evening into night. While he slept and dreamed, we cynically surmised of honey suckled vines in Alabama, we played gin rummy morning into evening into night. As far as we were concerned, we could just as well have been in Flatbush or Fairfax. Except for an artillery blast or participation in a night patrol, we played and played without interruption.
We once continued playing after being flooded out of our makeshift bunker home during a particularly violent monsoon downpour. Even then, each card hand was placed securely in the only dry place we could find – a “secret,” water-proof pouch for our Jim Beam cache before we retrieved our mortars from the flooded, firing position. After all, what was more important? A terrible card player, when I finally rotated back to the States, I owed over $1,800 which, being the generous person I am, I passed on to my replacement. Generosity hath no bounds.
I tell you this as a prelude to the events I am about to describe so that you will have an understanding of who and what we were in that place at that time.
The Players:
The ½ minyan in our platoon consisted of, in addition to me, the following:
Jonas Harazansky Napoli : To understand him you would have to see him which when you saw him you would not believe him. He was short: short to the extent that I questioned his passing the minimum physical requirements for military service. Crowning that compact frame was one of the largest heads I have ever seen and attached to that head was a nose that Jimmy Durante would have envied. His mouth was wide and usually spread in a happy smile.
His short legs were in proportion to his middle frame but his feet, ah, that’s another story. You see, supporting this 5’4” nightmare were two size 14’s. He must have had considerable pride in those dogs because at every opportunity he would trim and manicure them.
Jonas was a happy, carefree, young man. I never saw him angry or upset. He took that lousy experience in stride and, good events or bad, he smiled. He smiled his way through until he rotated back home where we had a strange encounter. If he is still around, I will bet that he is smiling at this very moment.
Herbert Malcolm Blum : Herb was an archetypical, wise cracking New Yorker if there ever was one. Always able to summon a curt, cruel, and acerbic quip no matter what the situation was, he had the smirk to go along with those remarks. Whenever he could, he shirked – his responsibilities always looking for the fast and easy way out. I recall one night when we were ordered to fire our rifles into the black emptiness in front of our lines to test our weapons. Herb, with a mocking cynicism, cried “bang!” as he simulated the firing of his weapon. He did not, he explained, want to have to clean his rifle after the session. You either loved and laughed with Herb or you disliked him. There were not too many of the former.
Aaron Turitz : Aaron was one of those people for whom you felt a responsibility to protect but could not resist the temptation to make the object of your humor or ridicule. In a situation of danger you could depend on him but in between those events we tortured him with cruel humor. It was partially his own doing. He was one of the homeliest humans I have ever known. With a right-angle aquiline nose, beady eyes and the largest of mouths, we often threatened to place him in front of our position to frighten off the enemy. His responses to our gestures were always good-natured. He was a kind and generous man. If he had it, he would share it with you. Once, when we were on leave in Pusan, he offered to share his Korean lady with me. I declined but was moved by the unique generosity. We all were fond of him.
Aaron Wasserstrom : Carefree is the best word to describe Aaron. We could be under attack by a swarm of screaming Chinese in the middle of an encroaching mortar attack, lost at night in a mined field, flooded, soaked and forlorn during a cold, bone chilling monsoon storm or in the throes of rolling 8 straight 7’s with the dice in a crap game, and his demeanor would never change. He was like an iceberg. Nothing phased him. “If they’re gonna get me, they’re gonna get me,” he would say. While not particularly religious, he had at some time accepted the Hebrew doctrine of being or not being entered into the Book of Life at the beginning of each Hebrew New Year. While the word predestination had no meaning for him, the idea that he could not escape his fate did. He accepted life as it rolled by and good times or bad, he did not seem to give a damn. Aaron passed away in 2011.
Other important participants were:
Colonel William S. Conley , 35 th Regimental Combat Team Battalion Commander: He epitomized for me every absurd, ridiculous, mean-spirited and ill-tempered action that occurred in my military experience. In his manner and dress he tried to mirror George S. Patton. He wore pearl handled pistols around tailored riding britches which fit into expensive, high-polished boots. In spite of the fact that he had not yet experienced combat, he walked and talked with the swagger of the great, war general and in so doing earned the ridicule and disrespect of everyone, officers included, in the battalion. He was, however, our most senior, discernable officer and leader and the one on whom at that time in that place our lives depended.
Captain John C. Davis , M Company Commander: I met this fine gentleman while he was lying drunk and delirious, face down, in a rain ditch. Unfortunately, he was the company commander at that time. After I laboriously helped this bulky, 6-footer from the ditch, he