The Road Home

After being treated for his injuries in England, Dennis requested that he be sent back to his unit in Germany.

May 7, 1945 — I heard tonight that it is over. The rumors have been plentiful the last few days, due mostly to combat casualties feeding the guys in the reinforcement depot here a line of bull and they, still being green behind the ears and more than willing to believe what we say, start it going.

I knew it was over but that there was plenty shooting to do yet. I have had no illusions. It was slow in coming when it did come. Just had to have someone say "quit." I wasn't surprised at Hitler's reported death. I expected something of that nature.

I don't know how I feel. I wanted one more good crack at the bastards but I know now that won't happen. And I am tired, mostly from the walk I finished a few minutes ago thru the park. But I feel my energy has vanished. Now that there is no more work, I have no more interest.

In the event the letter for you that I had in the tank when I was hurt wasn't recovered and mailed to you, I'll say one part that I wanted you to know and couldn't say thru my own company censors. The letter I had was waiting on a blue envelope to duck the company censors when it was lost. I couldn't say thru them for fear they would put the screws on my plan. But the "Stars & Stripes" stated early last Fall that probably only excess personnel would be shipped home, essential men kept. I knew that should I be caught on that job where I would be classified. I thought up a plausible excuse to quit that job and took the one I had. Therefore, I could be called nonessential and if my points piled high enough I could go home. I lost $45 a month by doing so but made up for that very easily in booty. Should it take me home to you just one hour earlier it will be worth everything I sacrificed. I'm caught just about in one of the best spots possible for that, too. If I get back to the outfit, it will still work. Anything to get back to you, Honey.

Tonight when we were coming back toward our billets we heard a lot of carbine and rifle fire. Figured someone who hadn't heard enough was getting his fill. Then it came faster and more frequent from other sections of town. A machine gun let go a few bursts and I realized what they said over the radio at 3:00 PM was true. They said it would be officially announced at five tonite. Came some time later, tho.

I've had enough over here. I either want to come home or go to another theater and do some more work. And undoubtedly it will be one or the other. I couldn't stand it here. We aren't allowed to speak in no capacity to the Germans. That suits me fine! When I am out of the barracks, I carry my German Luger -- loaded. I trust no one. And tonight before supper I told the men we were to fall out for an inspection for ammunition. We aren't allowed to carry our weapons and have no ammunition. Better to stay inside than go out without a weapon. Not me. I know better. I had nine months against them. I'm not letting up now.

Across the Rhine

May 11, 1945 — Didn't get here until 10:30 and 45 minutes to get to bed, another 30 to clean the dirt from my face, neck and arms. Came rushing into the office yesterday morning at 10:00. A portion of our packages were being shipped here to the 3rd Reinforcement Depot. Won't say how long I'll be here. From here to Army and then I think division sends trucks for us. They say as a rule we don't stay here but a day or so. Heard point value was announced today. Don't believe I'll make it. Five years. Almost two overseas and complete combat time for the continent. I think too many have [dependants] and a lot have been here longer.

May 22 — Finally made it back to the outfit. Got here late Sunday and went out to the company yesterday to see the boys and pick up my mail. There were 102 letters waiting for me! 49 were from you, Darling, the others from Dad and Mom, Mrs. Snow, Mrs. Struble, Carole, Roger, Mildred, Ruby, John and your mom.

I missed out on the looting that took place after I left. And I lost some beautiful stuff when I left. I also lost five points — missed the last battle by five days.

I am about 25th down on the list. That should get me home and make me a free man by August!! You were wrong in your assumption that I wanted to stay through this. Actually I wanted to get over here but not to stay. Just never would have felt right if I hadn't.

If I take care of myself—no dampness, over-exertion, excess drinking—and let myself get back to normal, I'll be okay. Doctors said they could keep me there for a year and keep trying to do something but may never succeed. Then again, one more month of experimenting could accidentally clear me up. I just couldn't stand staying there any longer. I'll be okay. Only feel it slightly now.

This is a very nice town. No war damage to speak of and the people are friendly. Company A is out east of town about eight or ten miles guarding prisoners that are being released to return to their homes. I've been sitting around Supply today waiting to be sent back to "A". Was going swimming today with one of my best friends who is now a lieutenant. Kurkowski is one swell guy and honest. (Nazi arm band enclosed.)

May 24 — Sitting in the field east of Pilsen guarding prisoners. They're all being released tomorrow. There will be garrison stuff after this — drill, classes and guard, etc. I'd rather fight!

May 25 — We aren't getting very much to eat. Very little. Conley and I took our tommy guns and scooted into the woods, more alert for deer than anything else. We ran out a couple miles over at the next town and some Czech guys came in with a rifle. I saw them long before they spotted me and went in their general direction. One came in with his rifle at the ready and I was ready because he had on a bluish slicker that looked Jerry to me. He called "Ameraniski?" and I replied "Cheski?" Always happy to see a tanker, these boys! The patch is your password to their friendship. The Infantry they don't give a second thought hardly. But we shook hands, had a cigarette, and they showed us where they'd shot a Jerry. Blood all over the place. They didn't quit with one shot. I picked up his hat but none showed there. All body wounds. He had come into the fields for something to eat and his potatoes were laying on the ground where he fell. These woods are still full and the Czechs lay for them night and day. Mostly SS. I shot one quail. Missed a rabbit and a deer. Quail tasted good. Six of us shared him.

Remainder of prisoners will leave tomorrow. They have had no fires, little shelter, and one meal a day — something like soup.

You hit the nail on the head when you figured the points. 75! Three campaigns at 5 points per brings it to 90. Normandy, Northern France, Belgium - Luxemburg - Germany. Within 30 days we're allowed the other two: Bulge to the Rhine and Central Germany. Missed that one. Got to get a little shuteye. Being inside this old tank keeps the wind out so it is fairly dry and comfortable with only one man.

May 29 — Here I sit in the tank tonight, ten miles east of Pilsen in the village of Rokitzau on the road to Prag, up against the Russian lines of occupation. My release point will be Indiana. I will probably only have $150 when I am discharged and my clothes will have to be bought immediately. For five years I've had no variation, other than battle dress when I used German, Belgium, American and whatnot clothes for warmth. All else has been O.D.'s and khaki. It will be very, very strange to me.

June 1 — We left yesterday morning to take our tank to Ordinance to turn in. Long trip, and the rain made it much slower and harder to take.

Mrakov, Czechoslovakia

June 5 — In the little village of Mrakov. We're sleeping in large tents provided for us in a hayfield right next to where the tanks are parked on the road. Kitchen and a few men are billeted in the village. I prefer the field.

Left plenty early yesterday to cover the 50 or 60 miles down here. Unfortunately, just as we were coming through a town we broke a track. We were just starting down the small hill and had the tank swinging into the curve away from the people when she broke. It probably would have killed a couple if it had broken a second or so before. Pretty hard job to get it going again. Plenty use of sledge hammer, straining your back to get the connector nuts off and then on, and pushing with a steel bar to move the track an inch. The one track will go almost two tons. Damned track was red hot and some rubber was burning. Heard we're sending two men home this week. I am tenth on the list.

June 10 — My service record hasn't caught up yet but was told it would not prevent me from being shipped out. I don't believe it, though. I know it came as far as the 11th Reinforcement at Munchen-Gladbach, my second stop on the continent.

June 13 — They put a floor in our tent today. No more sleeping on wet ground. Had K.P. today. First time in three years. I enjoyed it! We've been fed poorly for so long and today there was hamburger meat for dinner and steak for supper. I had specially fried choice pieces all day. I feel better.

June 15 — Exercises and reveille 7:30 - 7:45. Breakfast 8:00 - 9:00 or 9:30. Drill until 10:00. Road march where we go behind the hill and sit until 11:00 or 11:30. Afternoons athletics and maintenance program. Some play ball. Some play cards. Some wander. Some just sit or sleep. Meals are light -- not very much. We are usually hungry.

June 16 — My nerves will be settled by the time I get home because it is quiet here and not too much to be cautious about. Not like when I went back to England and they were so jumpy and touchy. You don't know what it meant to spend nine months with death as a partner every second. It didn't show until I reached what I thought of as safety. I am still jumpy. There will be times after I come home that I will walk in the valley of memories, but that will be natural. There may be times when I will be restless and dissatisfied with civilian life. Times when I will need to be by myself, away from noise and people. Times when I will long to hear the tank motors in the quiet pre-dawn, to feel the surge of power when it moves, to feel the confidence of its semi-protective steel, to feel the balance of the 76 mm gun and its cold deadliness run through me, to feel the thrill of the attack -- the guessing and praying and games that are all part of a day in combat. There may be days I want to join and fight again, but that will all pass. I am not afraid of the life I am about to return to — just feeling uncertain.

June 18 — Mrakov. Cigarettes are a thing of the past now. One or two guys still have a few that they are willing to sell for ten bucks.

June 19 — We've been placed in a category with the lowest priority on transportation. Depart for the States as a unit when transportation can be spared for disbanding the 741st as a unit. When the 2nd left, they attached us to the 8th Armored Division.

Pilsen, Czechozlovakia

June 29 — I am under the large Red Cross again. The medics brought me in the night of the 27th. Not anything serious this time. Bad throat. Temperature 101. Getting sulfa, bicarb pills, and a shot of penicillin every four hours. They cut my throat in two places and packed it with gauze. Heard we will put out to sea in September.

June 30 — Pierce was up today for dental work. Talked to him for a few minutes.

July 2 — Been in the hospital for almost a week.

Mrakov, Czechoslovakia

July 6 — Back under the old roof again. Have an inspection tomorrow. Imagine shining boots that have been worn six months, covered and soaked with oil, gas, mud blood and battle filth.

July 16 — They're going to give us road marches. A ten mile march on Wednesday.

July 23 — Just knowing you were there waiting for me has kept me going. When I could hear death coming with its screaming warning and I tried to get as close to the earth as possible, I would imagine I was with you. Night after night I was awakened by the cold, by the rain, by the snow, and by a premonition that danger was at my hole. Always I would find relief by turning my thoughts to you. I would have cracked under the strain on brain and body had it not been for you. I suppose I felt about death as old people do. When you get so well acquainted with it it is easier to accept as natural. But it was hard because I am not old and have not lived a full life. Mine has only begun, yet I knew death could come at any time. Thinking of you made me more cautious, less hasty than I might have been. I ran into a boy from home here that I had not seen in five years. His first words were, "You haven't changed a bit." He couldn't see inside.

July 24 — Been some day. 6:30 reveille, 7:00 breakfast, 8:00 calisthenics, 8:30 drill, one hour spent on the tanks, an hour in the mess hall for a bull session, and an hour's road march. Softball in the afternoon.

The winter or something seems to have affected me. My joints are stiff — at 26! I try to ignore it, but it's there. Hell, I'm still a kid! Ten mile march again tomorrow.

I still see a guy running — running straight up the hill where with each step he is in more danger and exposed to more fire that's coming in, and one guy is by him dead or dying. Funny how those things stick. Then last night I discovered that very man! Our company commander! We got to talking and I mentioned this to him. He had been standing by our tank when flak guns opened on us. I had my head sticking out of the turret and was trying to discover the kind of fire coming in and where from. Saw the first man fall and the Captain run up the hill and fall. I ducked. He was no more than 15 feet when they were hit but I only saw his back. I wonder if those scenes ever leave a guy?

This morning we marched up the hill and I was in the rear of the column. A boy up front stepped out of line into a hole and let a clip from the tommy gun go. I was on the ground before I knew it and so were several others who hadn't seen him go over. Unexpected. It gets you.

July 26 — Captain Sledge and Lt. Call (tank commander) are leaving us. Going to another battalion. Life will be rough for us. Captain kept us from going into ambushes many times and really fights for us. Hate to see him go. Never will get another like him.

July 27 — All the boys in our tent are at the mess hall having a party. Had champagne, cognac and watery beer. It's a celebration for the Captain and my tank commander who are leaving in the morning for another outfit.

Dennis was discharged on September 22, 1945 in Atterbury, Indiana.