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Originally posted by signal5x5:

My uncle was a medic and was attached to the third infantry division and I guess was at Anzio,among other places in Europe.

Signal 5X5, if you have any photos of him in the service, or any kind of other info on him or stories he wrote, I'd LOVE to hear them! Maybe you could send me an email ( I've been doing WW2 reenacting with a few buddies from work for a little over a year now. My impression is that of a medic in the 3rd ID/ 15th IR/ Charlie Co. Depending on how long your uncle was with the Third he could have fought in North Africa, Sicily, Italy, France, and Germany.

I'll see if I can dig up some photo's of my ancestors in WW2. My grandfather on my mother's side was in the Merhcant Marine. I had several great uncles in the war. One flew P-38 Lightnings, and survived the war, one died while serving as a navigator/ bombardier in a B-25 Mitchell. All the info I have on them is at home and I regret to say I don't even remember their names. I do remember my great uncle Milo Grey was a sharpshooter with the 357th IR, 90th ID and was in the group of guys who "liberated" a huge stash of German gold bullion and other loot near the end of the war.

My father in the Navy, 1962...the second one is at Prom with his date (not Mom, guess the old man was a playa Smile )

My father is really into geneology and whatnot now, so I asked him for photos of each of the members of our family who served in the military, with the exclusion of myself and my two brothers, since I have those photos already.

he replied: "I have 2 young Russians in winter greatcoats and one old Russian in an officer's uniform. I also have my dad in his Navy boot camp photo. I have one somewhere of my sister in uniform. I have an old wrinkled picture of my dad's youngest brother in fatigues in Fiji. I also have a picture of my dad's cousin with his crew by a B17; he earned the distiguished flying cross the hard way. There is probably one of me around somewhere. I have one of my mother's cousin in a Navy uniform."

looking foreward to getting them...I asked my Mother to do the same thing. everybody in my family served in the military. the US military, the Russian military, the Italian father even mentioned that he found reference to a relative who fought in Napolean's army.

this is a great thread and a great way to honor and recognise those who came before us.
Jim C
His service was "quite interesting". While in the field his Turkish dogrobber told him that all the Armenians in the unit were going to be executed. He and another Armenian escaped on horseback. My grandfather was no horseman and soon ended up on foot. He was captured by Kurdish tribesmen who happened to be Christian. They were going to kill him, thinking that he was a Muslim Turk but he showed them the Crucifix tattooed on his arm and so was spared. (He had made the pilgrimage to Jerusalum and had the cross and date tattoed) They gave him some help getting home. Though they also robbed him of his valuables. He ended up in Russia until the revolution then came to the U.S.
Great thread!

This is a picture of my Grandfather, Donald Eastlick, and my Grandmother on their wedding day. Sorry about the picture quality. It's scanned from their 50th wedding anniversary invitation... the only picture I have of him in Uniform. He was "just" part of the big Army during WWII. Not high speed unless you count how handy he is, then he's BADASS!! I am terribly proud of him and his contribution to my Country.

Here he is last spring, with his Great Granddaughter, Diquita, named after my grandmother.

One of the greatest gifts he has provided for us (he's still alive) is the time he spent writing down his 96 page memoirs on a yellow legal pad. Never having gone past the 8th grade, he's no Michael Crichton. He is also old so he misremembers a few things and somehow magically makes the war seem like about a year and a half but I think you will agree he has a special knack for bringing a smile or helping you to envision what he's saying

So, here is WWII through my Grandfather's eyes and pen. It's a little long for a post but I thought some might enjoy the read. Those who don't want to read it can just scroll to next entry.

A few days later we boarded a train and headed east and ended up at Camp Shanks, New York for our final physicals before going overseas.

We boarded an old transport, the Duchess of Bedford. After a few days we called it the Drunken Duchess as it was all over the ocean. It took us 14 days and it was rough all the way. A lot of the guys were seasick but it didn't seem to bother me for some reason.

We landed in Scotland and took the train to southern England to an airstrip at Stony Cross. There a fleet of brand new P-38's were parked along the runway. Our pilots had trained with single engine P-39's so they had quite a time getting used to the twin engines. Some of them didn't like them at all. One day a test pilot form Lockheed put on a show for them, took off with one engine, maneuvered around switching engines flying upside down and about anything you could imagine. After our boys got the hang of things and knew what they were capable of they really liked them. They were escorting bombers into Germany and doing strafing and bombing in France and Belgium. We were on the ground and took good care of our pilots as they were doing our part of the fighting for us.

The motor pool wasn't very busy so we ran a shuttle to a little pub just across the fence from the airport property. That's where I drank my first beer that was served warm. It was pretty good when you get used to it. Most of the drivers went by train to Grimsby on the east central cost and drove back in 4 new 6X6 trucks and 2 new jeeps. With what we already had our quota was complete. We made a few liberty runs to Bournemouth. It was a USO and they had dances and food. It didn't get dark until 11 PM and the truck left at midnight. It didn't give them much time to make love in the grass.

As the planned date for the invasion drew near, we had to waterproof our engines and run the exhaust pipe up the side of the cab and when we got that all done it was lectures and all that getting us ready for combat. In the mean time our planes were flying everyday and they had to be taken care of. Finally we convoyed to southern England. With our trucks fully loaded and the drivers behind the wheel they were picked up by crane on ship and placed on the deck and tied down. That was our home till they were ready for us to land. So, we sat a few miles off shore for about two weeks till the engineers went in and built some roads and an airstrip. They then loaded us into landing craft and we went on shore.

The ship we had been on was a merchant marine and manned by civilians. While we sat there waiting they painted most of the ship. We had nothing to do but look at the water. Occasionally an arm or a leg or body part would float by. It was weird and made us realize what it was like and we were thankful that we hadn't been in combat.

When everything was ready we drove our rigs onto the beach where the troops had landed. There was lots of hardware on the beach – tanks, trucks, jeeps, rifles, and you name it. We went up the hill and down the other side to the small town of St Mere Eglese. There was a jeep assembly line set up and operating and a big cemetery that was flooded and it had a sickening sweet smell from the many dead. We went on to the airstrip and our tents were all set up including the mess tents. We had had nothing but K and C rations since we left England and hot food had never tasted so good (and real coffee). That evening a C-47 flew in with the aircraft mechanics and their tools. Later our P-38's flew in so we were ready for combat.

Late that evening we had a visit from Bed Check Charlie. It was a JU88 and the engines had a different sound than any other plane. We had multiple 50's several places and you could see them fly through the tracers and sometimes the engine quit. We'd hear a crash and we'd give a cheer. We had to dig foxholes by our tents and we were supposed to get in them when we had an air raid but we'd put our helmets over our private parts and stay in bed.

One morning after an air raid the foxholes had a lot of shrapnel in them so we were better off in those wool army blankets. There were six of us in a squad tent and we lived together throughout the war. We were family. We stuck together and looked after our pilots. We were in support of General George Patton's third army. They moved so fast that summer that we had to move quote often to keep up with them. We'd usually move to an abandoned German airstrip and would sometimes have barracks and small cabins. We moved so often that summer we ended up about 30 miles north of Riems, France close to the German and Belgian border. We had to haul our own supplies from Cherbourg on the northwest corner of France. We had two men in the truck and we were on the road quite often. My partner was Henry Rabalaise; Frenchy for short. He could speak French and he opened a lot of doors for us.

There were a lot of other trucks hauling supplies too and the roads were crowded. They took two east west highways and made them one way, east and west. It really cut down on the congestion and we were finally able to quit hauling our own supplies as the war was stalled for winter.

That's when the German Army made their last big attack through Belgium. It was late December when this took place and they called it the Battle of the Bulge. The Allies were caught with their pants down. They flew a bunch of troops in from England to our airstrip and we took four of our trucks with one driver (normally we had two) and loaded them in the back of our trucks. I felt really sorry for them.. they had never been in combat and it was real cold. Well we took off with an officer in a jeep to lead us. We made it to the city of St Vith, which was about as close to the front as we could get. We unloaded and headed back and when we got about 20 miles we made a big left turn into open country. All at once the lead jeep made a U turn and signaled me to turn around and then I saw this tiger tank with his 88 pointed right at me! About that time he fired. The shell hit right along side my truck and almost tipped it over. I was out and running but it blew gravel and rocks all over me. I was skinned up and rolled over. I got in the trees and the trucks were turning around and I caught a ride in one of them. They took me to a hospital in Rhiems and kept me there for about a week and then back to work.

The war was practically over after that last big battle. We had moved our outfit to Frankfurt on Main a large city that had suffered a lot of bomb damage. This was our last stop and we were there about 6 months. Most of the German civilians were friendly with us. We were not supposed to fraternize. No one enforced it and we all did. They would invite us to their houses and feed us with what little they had. Of course we would contribute through the mess sergeant. Of course the enlisted men had time to travel around and enjoy the spoils of war. Our executive officer, Major Gee, had been in WWI and he knew all the ropes about soldiers of fortune. He thought we should go from house to house in the undamaged section of the city where all the more prominent people lived. The Major said go from house to house and demand to look in their garages or barns. He said it's illegal so don't get caught. If you do, I cant piss a drop to help you.

So, we went to work.
(He then goes on to explain how they got a convertible Hudson, and a LaSalle sedan, two Mercedes staff cars and an Buick Sedan. Also, they stole an Opel bus which they hid in the forest and then later went back and picked up) After that they called us Major Gee's outlaws. Well so far as I was concerned I had lost my wife and I just didn't give a damn whether I lived or died and I did reckless driving, chasing women, drinking anything with alcohol, it's a wonder I didn't die.

(Here he talks quite a bit about how they mopped up a little and then were supposed to ship out and fight in the Pacific but then Japan surrendered while they were under sail in the Atlantic.) ...

We made a sharp turn north and the next thing we knew we were looking at the Statue of Liberty. That was the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. As tough as I thought I was I was crying my eyes out.

SPC Krout was a former Marine 0331 and a mean drunk. I never wanted anyone else behind a machine gun.

SGT Jeffcoat was a skinny goofy kid who learned his job the hard way, but in the weeks before he died he had finally come into his own.

SGT Straub was all Philly and loved to fight. You learned to never let him get a dip from you because he would take half of it.

CPL Pelligrinni had fought in, and won, his only professional boxing match before we left. He was days away from EAS when stop loss hit.

PFC DeTample was one of those kids when you see them you wonder if his mother knows he is in the Army. He wanted to be a police officer like his father.

SPC Kulick was amazing. Mid 30's, funny as all hell, firefighter back home, dedicated father, and good at his job. A platoon of Kulicks could take over the world.

This is my Dad, LTC (ret) Robert "Bob" Knowlton. He was a veteran of Korea, Viet Nam, and the Cold War.
This one is Dad and the rifle team in Bindlach, Germany. He's standing, on the left:

In the field, cuz ya gotta have a gear pic Cool

His last post was at Fort Ord, where this was taken:

I wish I had a better photo of him in dress blues. Army dress blues rock:

My Dad was taken home to heaven in 1991. Hardly a day goes by when I don't think about him. I can't verbalize how much I miss him.
Here's my pops: 1st & 75th Field Artillery

He was drafted in 1969 and does not regret serving one bit. My dad was disabled for quite some time when i was growing up and me being an only child with mom gone, he still demanded i fill out my selective service card. Ill never forget the look on his face when he told me i had to do it. I did not mind doing it and knew it was my duty and was proud to do it but ill never forget that day.

[IMG:left] [/IMG]
This is my father. A very nice guy and a trough friend. On the first pic he stands guard as a 17yo officercandidat in Viborg, Denmark at the Offiziersschule der Panzertruppe.

Here he is an Lt. allready comanding a Tankplt. with the age of 19. He served most of his time in Italy with the 5. Panzerregiment. He was wounded once in the leg by a srapnel. One thing that is still in his mind is that a gunner from his platoon killed his best friend by ff during a dusty tank battle.

This is my grandpa. He was also a trough friend for me till he died in Sep.95 just after his wife died in Jan.95. They were marryed nearly 65 years.
He started service as a volunter befor the war broke out. First he was with a Maschinengewehrbatailon fighting in france.
Later in the war he switched to the 2. SkijägerDiv. who fought in russia for the rest of the war.
He don´t looks like a badass warfighter but he was. He earned the Ironcross,Infantryassaultbadge,colosecombatbadge in silver, severel tank-destroyer-ribons and the wounded-medal 3 times. He was promoted from PFC to Captain for his duty and vailor in combat. He never liked to talk about the war. But as I joined the army he came up with this or that.

To I like to share 2 of them. As it was so very cold in the first winter, they just had summeruniforms and a few blankets, they killed some horses to sleep in them!
Beeing so strong he was telling this story with tears in his eyes...during a russian assault he manned one of the MG42 on trypod. After the shells stopt raining a houghe wave of russians was storming at there trench. They did not came far. Then the next wave started...without any weapons...they ran to the dead fist wave and picked up the weapons from the dead. And they did not just send the soldiers. Also farmers, old ladys, childrens armed with sticks and picks or nothing. The attack last the whole day and he could not even count the waves anymore. Srong, tough wartested soldiers were standing behind there MG´s, changing barrel after barrel crying and praying to make them stop.
War is hell!

He was taken POW in 1945 by the russians before he could come back to his wife and my mother in 1949

That pic was take in france still with the old MG38

During Operation Barbarossa they observed a Stuka attack on the russian trench. My granddad is on the left.

I realy miss him a lot. Because of his job my father was away from home most of the week so my granddad tought me a lot and is most of it responsible for who I am now.
He was a great man. Tough,strong, living respect and honor beeing fair and never overreacting....

Ruhe in Frieden.
What a wonderful thread!

Couple pics of my father above, who never talked much about the time he spent in the Armed Forces. He was supposedly with Navy Inteligence, a radioman, and spent some time in Hawaii. I don't think he ever forgot Morse Code!
I don't think his time in Hawaii was very difficult judging from some of the pics I've seen. Upper left pic - on the right side talking with the young lady, lower left - standing to the rear w/o hat, and in Iowa for the right pic.
I miss him.

Above - a portion of this pic below -

My Grandfather (mother's side), who was a corporal with the 1st North Carolina Infantry, WWI. Pic was taken in 1916 in Camp Stewart, El Paso, TX. Couple of model "T" Fords in the pic also! He received wounds in France while with the 119th Infantry, HQ company, and received the Purple Heart.

Some SOB !@#!@! stole his Purple Heart ribbons/award at one time but my mother in law (bless her) contacted our local representative and had them re-issued.

My family on both sides all did their time. Some one from every generation served and we had someone in every one of Americas big wars. It started off with my however many times Great grand father Littleberry Robinson. He was a private in the British Army in the French and Indian War and later a Captain in the Virginia Militia during the Revolution. The rest is as follows,

Civil War:
T.R. Morgan 9th Bn. Missipippi Sharpshooters.
-Died in captivity at Camp Chase POW Camp, Columbus, OH

Spanish-American War:
Meriman Robinson unsure of unit and service other than he fought in Cuba.

World War 1:
Agnew Robinson 42nd ID

World War 2:
Mage May, medic 16th Inf. Regt. 1st ID
Sicily, Normandy, Germany. Wounded in Koln, Germany

Ulmer Robinson: 82nd Airborne
Jumped in North Africa, Sicily, Normandy, Holland. Made one jump in Korea with 187th RCT. Apparently he was one bad mofo.

Buddy Elton: 28th ID
France, Germany.

Berry Robinson: Combat engineer, France, Germany
When he finally got an air matress the German blew a damn nearby and in his deep sleep, he floated 8 miles away as the story goes.

Slim Elton: Infantry man Minnesota National Guard. France, Germany.

Korean War:
Ulmer Robinson
187th RCT

Vietnam War:
Uncle Lenny, 101st Airborne Div. Artilleryman
Uncle Mike, 1/1 Marines, Hue City, 'nuff said.
Uncle Ellis, F-4 pilot USMC, retired from American Airlines and still missing stick time.

Cold War
My Dad- Hospital Man 2nd Class 1960-64
My Mom- Navy Nurse 1960-63
Uncle Dean- USAF HVAC repairman Civil Engineer 1957-1983. SMSgt.
Cousin Dwayne- USAF Jet propulsion mechanic ret'd E-6

Desert Storm:
Cousin Ronny- 1st Armored Division 19K

Operation Southern Watch/Enduring Freedom/Iraqi Freedom:
SSgt Stam-knees USAF Security Forces
I do not have access to any photos at the moment. My great uncle served during the following: WWII 50 missions over germany in a P-38. Korea, flew small recon planes (spotter planes). Vietnam: Base commander, I remember him saying it was a Libo base but I dont know the name of the base or where it was located.
During peace time he flew a huey into the grand canyon when a PAM AM plane crashed into a canyon wall.
One comment he made when I asked him about his experience's was from his WWII days flying a P-38 over Germany. He said the first time on a mission he was flying along and he noticed all this black stuff filling up the sky. He had no experience and could not figure out what it was. Eventually he realized it was flak from all the anti aircraft fire coming up at the formation. They are/were great men and have my deepest respect. Rest in peace Morgan I miss ya.
Originally posted by Jedi:
(Center) My grandfather, Cmdr Bernard Stanley, in Adak, Alaska. This is his wedding photo and one of the few I have of him in his USCG uniform. Unfortunately, he passed away long before I was ever born, but his legacy of devotion to God, his Family, and his Country lived on.

Jedi, might I say your Grandma was a honey back in the day!

Great old photo. It's always neat to see wedding pictures taken back then... fun to see how folks have aged over the years. Our local paper likes to print anniversary photos with the original wedding photos.
These are pictures from the tour my old high school coach (USCG Honor Guard) took me on at Arlington. This was one of the most profound days of my life. I learned so much, and am really glad he could show me so much while I was there.

This is my Grandfather and Grandmother. He died before I was born, but my Mom's told me about him and I just hope I can live as good a life as he did.
Now that I've finally dug out my old scanner and found some old photos...

My dad, PVT John F. Xxxxxx, August 1954, at age 21. This was his basic training picture. During that time the 101st was not an Airborne unit, they were a training division. I believe this was at Ft Jackson, SC. He was drafted and served at Idar-Oberstein, near Kaiserslautern, as a POL clerk in the Quartermaster Corps.

My Grandfather, CPL Harold F. Xxxxxx, early 1918 at age 19 or so, "somewhere in France." He joined the Army in 1917, went to his initial training at Camp Custer, Michigan, and was assigned as an infantryman to the 1st ID. He fought in the early American battles of the First World War, Cantigny and Soissons, and was wounded by machine gun fire at Soissons. One of my relatives has a photo of him after he was wounded, in which you can see the top of a bandage poking up over the tall collar of his tunic. He appears lighthearted and young in the picture below... this was before he saw combat. He looks mature, serious, and I would even venture to say steely-eyed in the "after" photo, taken less than a year later. He died in 1947, long before I was even a glint in my Dad's eye. I would have loved to have talked to him.

Here is my grandfather before he went to Peleliu and later Okinawa. He was the greatest man I have ever met and an inspiration to my family. He is the reason I became a Marine as well as my cousin. If you want to read about Peleliu then get "A Special Piece of Hell". He couldn't tell me about a lot of things so he gave me the book with parts high-lighted with notes. What he went through was awe inspiring. Truly they were the greatest generation.
My family, of one part of it or another has been fighting wars for whatever country they belonged to at the time since the Hundred Years War. My great aunt is an Adams (related to the President) and they trace their part of the family back to a Sir Henry Adams ( I think) of of around 1350, died fighting the French I think (not a bad way to go).

In my direct recent line of descent, my great-great-grandfather Adonijah, drafted during the Civil War (Union). Apparently going by his look (he was one mean looking SOB in the one pic I saw) the sergeant in charge of the recruits made him a corporal on the spot as he "took care of things" quite well. He was eventually field commissioned and made 1LT, survived most of the major battles as an infantry officer (He was at Gettysburg and The Wilderness, as well as some others if I remember correctly).

Great Grandpa missed out on Cuba. Grandpa was too young for WW1 (Born 1906) and a bit old for WW2, even though he volunteered, he had 4 sons by then and was a carpenter so they said keep building stuff. He built stuff all over the West Coast and in the 50s the radar towers in the desert too. Air Raid Warden in LA during WW2. He tried to go, but at 37, he was a bit old.

Korea, missed (uncles too young)
My father was in Vietnam, '68-69, served in Japan, Korea, Turkey, all over the US, then went reserves. He was actually retired 2 months and they called him back up for Gulf War 1. Then he retired again. Smile

My brother was Navy, '93 to '97, did his time on the Kitty Hawk, 2 Westpacs (the first was when they rammed a Chinese sub by accident and they thought China was going to invade Taiwan).

Myself? Army ROTC in '96, 1 year in and Clinton decided to cut back cash, so I ended up as a senior staff photographer for an NBC affiliate. It eventually got to me, and I went USAF Security Forces at the "ancient" (according to some of the guys in basic) age of 27. Considering we had a 31 and 34 year old... i wasn't THAT old.

Various second cousins were in all the other wars we've been in recently ( Spanish-american, WW1, WW2, Korea, Panama).

Dad doesn't talk about Vietnam. What little he does say is mostly the little funny stuff. Rarely does he say much about the bad stuff and I don't expect him to. Friend of mine who came back from Somalia needed someone to talk to (had a hard time, intercepted some shrapnel among other things) and they had a long talk.

Assuming I deploy anytime soon and come back intact, we're going to have a LONG talk.

Sorry no pics, I'm OCONUS and they're not available. Other than a pic of me. Smile

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