ROGER4314
Been Called "Flash" Since I Was A Kid!
This thread is about the struggles our parents went through in military service or not. They helped make us who we are. How did they overcome adversity in their own lives?
I've been pretty rough on my Dad in these Hallowed Halls. It's true that he was alcoholic, brutal to his children and not pleasant to grow up around. He did however, make me tough and self reliant. I've been on my own since I was 17, been wiped out to the last dollar twice and always survived to come back a winner. He must have done something right!
I've tried to understand why he was like he was but a letter from my sister which included an article by a nurse who served in the same unit as my Father in WW2 explained a lot. Although it's not written about Dad, he was there, too, as a Captain in the Army Medical unit.
Dad seldom spoke about his war experiences but this article says it all. The letter also explains how he changed from a loving father to a sullen, beaten and pretty screwed up guy. He still raised 3 kids who became successful and productive.
Dad came ashore at Omaha Beach about D+3, moved around a lot then was assigned to the 34th Evac Hospital located right behind the battle lines. He was wounded and earned the Purple Heart. The article chronicles his experiences.
Here's the article:
=======================================================
themorningcall.com
Near the front, nurse cared for the wounded
November 11, 1999
Marian Arner Jones of Bowmanstown joined the Army Nurse Corps in February
1943 and was assigned to the 34th Evacuation Hospital. She went on
maneuvers in Louisiana and Texas, then to England to prepare for D-Day,
the Normandy invasion, which came on June 6, 1944.
We landed on Utah Beach June 22 with Gen. George Patton's 3rd Army. On our
first day, we admitted 525 patients into a 400-bed hospital.
How can one forget: The barrage balloons along the coasts of France and
England.
The fireworks-like display of the anti-aircraft guns.
Sleeping in a foxhole our first night on the beach.
"Bed-check Charlie," a small German reconnaissance plane checking us out
every night at approximately the same time.
The wounded, lying all about on the ground, waiting for their turn in
surgery.
The total destruction of whole towns, nothing left but a pile of rubble.
The stench of rotting flesh, human or otherwise.
The booming of 155mm guns in the field behind us, so loud it shakes the
ground. After about a week they move on, but so do we.
The wounded! Where do they all come from?
The joy of a letter from home or a package of homemade cookies that you
share and eat with a spoon.
Giving a plasma transfusion for the first time, by flashlight, and having
to kneel to steady your shaking legs. You do anything to keep your
patients from knowing that you are scared, too.
The ankle-deep mud.
The wounded! They look so pitiful, you feel like crying. But you force
yourself to smile.
Getting up before dawn and starting a fire in a Sibley stove so that it
will be warm when your tent mates must get up.
Going barefoot out in the rain to loosen the tent ropes so the stakes
won't pull out of the ground. Otherwise, the tent will fall down.
Wave after wave of planes, thousands of them, bombing St. Lo, blasting a
hole in the German defenses so the 3rd Army can go through.
The wounded! All bloody and shot up.
French wine and cognac.
Being frightened half out of your wits.
Meeting and shaking hands with Bing Crosby.
Periods of unbearable homesickness.
The shaved heads of the French girls who were being punished for being
friendly with the German soldiers during the occupation.
The wounded! Will they never stop coming?
Being so hungry, and all there is to eat is some matzo and jelly. No
butter. No coffee to wash it down. "Old Blood and Guts" has requisitioned
all the gasoline.
The flooding and mud at Verdun.
The wounded. How glad they are to see our faces!
Our first showers since we landed in France, and here it is, the middle of
September.
A German shell landing a block away from our hospital in Luxembourg. I saw
the crater the next day. I still can't believe I slept through the whole
affair.
The arrogance of the German SS soldiers. They make you so angry you want
to do something to bring them down a peg or two, but that's not
professional, nor Christian.
Being so cold, you wonder whether you will ever thaw out. Then vowing you
will never allow yourself to be that cold again.
Trying to hide from Gen. Patton as he makes one of his many visits to our
hospital.
The cheers of the soldiers, and gaining their respect when they realize we
are one with them -- not better than.
The wounded. You do your very best, but you feel it isn't good enough. How
brave they are!
Learning a new password every day during the Battle of the Bulge. The
Germans are infiltrating our lines.
Taking a bath, shampooing your hair and washing your unmentionables in the
same helmet full of water.
The whistle of the fighter planes overhead, engaged in a dogfight.
A quartermaster convoy being strafed as it's going past our hospital,
bringing in more wounded.
Using the latrine, a tent, in the winter when you are wearing one- piece
fatigues.
The rumble of Sherman tanks going past our area.
Crossing the Rhine River at Remagen on a pontoon bridge, under a smokescreen.
The stench of the crematoriums at Dachau. We were forbidden to visit the
camp. Our male counterparts came back vomiting, so sick they were in a
state of shock. Horrible!
We in the 34th Evac worked our butts off, 12 hours a day, seven days a
week, week in and week out with very little time off. We were where the
fighting was taking place, but in spite of that, we could not possibly
visualize nor comprehend what life was like on the front lines, in the
thick of battle. We saw the results of the fighting and tried to heal the
mangled bodies brought to us.
We took care of 27,477 soldiers.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * *
Marian Arner came home from the war and married Kenneth Jones, now
deceased. They had two daughters, Linda and Susan, and three
grandchildren.
=========================================================
What are some of the adversities your parents overcame- military or not?
Flash
I've been pretty rough on my Dad in these Hallowed Halls. It's true that he was alcoholic, brutal to his children and not pleasant to grow up around. He did however, make me tough and self reliant. I've been on my own since I was 17, been wiped out to the last dollar twice and always survived to come back a winner. He must have done something right!
I've tried to understand why he was like he was but a letter from my sister which included an article by a nurse who served in the same unit as my Father in WW2 explained a lot. Although it's not written about Dad, he was there, too, as a Captain in the Army Medical unit.
Dad seldom spoke about his war experiences but this article says it all. The letter also explains how he changed from a loving father to a sullen, beaten and pretty screwed up guy. He still raised 3 kids who became successful and productive.
Dad came ashore at Omaha Beach about D+3, moved around a lot then was assigned to the 34th Evac Hospital located right behind the battle lines. He was wounded and earned the Purple Heart. The article chronicles his experiences.
Here's the article:
=======================================================
themorningcall.com
Near the front, nurse cared for the wounded
November 11, 1999
Marian Arner Jones of Bowmanstown joined the Army Nurse Corps in February
1943 and was assigned to the 34th Evacuation Hospital. She went on
maneuvers in Louisiana and Texas, then to England to prepare for D-Day,
the Normandy invasion, which came on June 6, 1944.
We landed on Utah Beach June 22 with Gen. George Patton's 3rd Army. On our
first day, we admitted 525 patients into a 400-bed hospital.
How can one forget: The barrage balloons along the coasts of France and
England.
The fireworks-like display of the anti-aircraft guns.
Sleeping in a foxhole our first night on the beach.
"Bed-check Charlie," a small German reconnaissance plane checking us out
every night at approximately the same time.
The wounded, lying all about on the ground, waiting for their turn in
surgery.
The total destruction of whole towns, nothing left but a pile of rubble.
The stench of rotting flesh, human or otherwise.
The booming of 155mm guns in the field behind us, so loud it shakes the
ground. After about a week they move on, but so do we.
The wounded! Where do they all come from?
The joy of a letter from home or a package of homemade cookies that you
share and eat with a spoon.
Giving a plasma transfusion for the first time, by flashlight, and having
to kneel to steady your shaking legs. You do anything to keep your
patients from knowing that you are scared, too.
The ankle-deep mud.
The wounded! They look so pitiful, you feel like crying. But you force
yourself to smile.
Getting up before dawn and starting a fire in a Sibley stove so that it
will be warm when your tent mates must get up.
Going barefoot out in the rain to loosen the tent ropes so the stakes
won't pull out of the ground. Otherwise, the tent will fall down.
Wave after wave of planes, thousands of them, bombing St. Lo, blasting a
hole in the German defenses so the 3rd Army can go through.
The wounded! All bloody and shot up.
French wine and cognac.
Being frightened half out of your wits.
Meeting and shaking hands with Bing Crosby.
Periods of unbearable homesickness.
The shaved heads of the French girls who were being punished for being
friendly with the German soldiers during the occupation.
The wounded! Will they never stop coming?
Being so hungry, and all there is to eat is some matzo and jelly. No
butter. No coffee to wash it down. "Old Blood and Guts" has requisitioned
all the gasoline.
The flooding and mud at Verdun.
The wounded. How glad they are to see our faces!
Our first showers since we landed in France, and here it is, the middle of
September.
A German shell landing a block away from our hospital in Luxembourg. I saw
the crater the next day. I still can't believe I slept through the whole
affair.
The arrogance of the German SS soldiers. They make you so angry you want
to do something to bring them down a peg or two, but that's not
professional, nor Christian.
Being so cold, you wonder whether you will ever thaw out. Then vowing you
will never allow yourself to be that cold again.
Trying to hide from Gen. Patton as he makes one of his many visits to our
hospital.
The cheers of the soldiers, and gaining their respect when they realize we
are one with them -- not better than.
The wounded. You do your very best, but you feel it isn't good enough. How
brave they are!
Learning a new password every day during the Battle of the Bulge. The
Germans are infiltrating our lines.
Taking a bath, shampooing your hair and washing your unmentionables in the
same helmet full of water.
The whistle of the fighter planes overhead, engaged in a dogfight.
A quartermaster convoy being strafed as it's going past our hospital,
bringing in more wounded.
Using the latrine, a tent, in the winter when you are wearing one- piece
fatigues.
The rumble of Sherman tanks going past our area.
Crossing the Rhine River at Remagen on a pontoon bridge, under a smokescreen.
The stench of the crematoriums at Dachau. We were forbidden to visit the
camp. Our male counterparts came back vomiting, so sick they were in a
state of shock. Horrible!
We in the 34th Evac worked our butts off, 12 hours a day, seven days a
week, week in and week out with very little time off. We were where the
fighting was taking place, but in spite of that, we could not possibly
visualize nor comprehend what life was like on the front lines, in the
thick of battle. We saw the results of the fighting and tried to heal the
mangled bodies brought to us.
We took care of 27,477 soldiers.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * *
Marian Arner came home from the war and married Kenneth Jones, now
deceased. They had two daughters, Linda and Susan, and three
grandchildren.
=========================================================
What are some of the adversities your parents overcame- military or not?
Flash
