Our Father's Generation

by F. M. Worden

  He could see I was mad, and I was. He pointed to the combat badge on my chest, “I wish I had won one of them.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “A lot of guys, now that the war is over, wish they had one.”

  “Well, since you’re a combat vet, can you ride a motorcycle?”

  “You bet your sweet ass I can, had one at home.”

  “Well,” he says, “I got one hid out. Was gonna save it for myself. I hope to find me a good looking Fraulein and take her for rides. Since you’re a nice sweet guy, I’ll let you have her.”

  “Get the SOB out here. I gotta get going.”

  “You gotta motorcycle license? Nowadays, you gotta have a license to drive or ride anything. That’s orders from headquarters.”

  “Na, I ain’t got one for anything.”

  “Well, come on in and I’ll issue you one to drive anything, You can drive, can’t ya?”

  “Yeah, I can.”

  We went in his guard shack and he wrote one up. Then he went behind some trucks and came out pushing a motorcycle with a sidecar. He was petting the bike like it was a woman. “Ain’t she a beauty?” he asked. She was a BMW German Army job with a side car.

  I wasn’t for any small talk. “Let’s get her gas. I need to be on the way.” I was ready to boogie. While I was gas-n, he got a phone call. When he returned, he said, “Well, what ya know, you got yourself a passenger. I’m told to hold you here until they get here. They’re on the way.”

  “Ain’t that the shits. Who is it?” I asked.

  “Don’t know. You gotta wait. They said your man is going to the same town as you.”

  We waited for what seemed like an hour. Then, up pulled this staff car and out from the back door come a Lt. Colonel in his pinks and greens, behind him out came this gorgeous , I mean gorgeous, Wac blonde First Lieutenant. Every eye in the motor pool was on this woman. I said to myself, “I hope she’s my passenger.” Hot dog, she was!

  I heard the old Sgt tell the Lt. Col that the motorcycle was the transportation. Man did the Lt. Col blow a fuse. I gotta admire the old Sgt. He stood his ground. He didn’t back up an inch. “That’s it, Colonel, and that’s all there’s gonna be.”

  The Colonel calmed down and told the Wac Lieutenant, “It’ll be ok, honey.” This guy was maybe forty and she was twenty or twenty-one. I didn’t think he was her guardian.

  They came over to me and, of course, I saluted and said, “Welcome, ma’am.” The Lt. Col. asked me if I could ride this motorcycle. “Yes, sir, been ride-n a bike for years.” Of course I lied. Who wouldn’t if your passenger was this comely Wac?

  All the time, this lady was giving me the once over. I said to her, “You’ll need to change into something else. I don’t think you’ll be able to make it in that tight skirt.”

  In her musical voice she said, “I have coveralls in my bag.” She proceeded to dig some out.

  The driver of the staff car had set her luggage by the sidecar.

  She asked the old Sgt., “Where can I change?”

  He pointed to the guard shack and said, “It’s all yours, ma’am.”

  She went over, went in and closed the door. All the eyes in that motor pool were on the door hoping it would pop open at the right time. It didn’t.

  When she came back, Lord, this was one good looking woman. The coveralls couldn’t hide that figure. While she changed, the old Sgt., the driver and I tied all our baggage on the bike and side car. It looked like Okie’s heading for California.

  She jumped right in the side car, “Let’s go driver.” I handed her her make-up bag and told her she would have to carry it on her lap. She smiled, “Fine, let’s go.”

  I kicked the starter and the BMW roared into life. I shoved her into low gear and off we went. When I looked back, the Lt. Colonel was dancing around on one foot. He must have leaned over to smooch my passenger and the side car wheel ran over his foot. I laughed to myself and I saw her looking back, too. She looked up at me and laughed a big hardy laugh. I could see we were going to get along fine.

  Berlin was one big mess. Burned out building everywhere. Finding your way around was a major job. I stopped at an intersection and asked my passenger if she knew her way around this city. She looked at me with disgust. Some real bad language came out of that beautiful mouth. “If you don’t know where we’re at, how the hell should I know? You’re the man here.” I couldn’t help myself, I started laughing. She really puffed up. Then she started laughing, too. How cute she was. “Let’s put our heads together and find our way, okay?”

  “Okay by me,” I said.

  “Let’s ask that man,” she pointed to someone on the sidewalk. I did and he told us we would have to go to the town of Hannover to get the road we needed to go south. He told us how to find the way to Hannover. She crossed her arms and said, “See, I’m no dumb blonde.” I told her she was damn smart to ask for directions.

  We arrived in Hannover well before dark and decided to go south. Hannover had been a real war zone. Many bombed out buildings. I told her we could look for a place to spend the night just as it got dark. In the next hour, it turned pitch black, no moon. In the next hour, we entered a small village. “Let’s get something to eat and find a place to stay the night.” I had to yell over the motorcycle loud motor. Sure enough, there was a bar and hotel in the village. I went into the place and asked if they would serve a meal and if we could get rooms. All affirmative. The owner showed me a place to park the bike where it would be safe.

  We had a nice German meal and great beer. When it came time for the room, he told us he only had one room left. She said, “Take it. I’m tired.” So we did.

  The owner showed us the room. The bathroom was at the end of the hall. The room had a big double bed. She said, “I get the bed, you can have the armchair. I outrank you.”

  “No, lady,” I said, “We’ll flip a coin for the bed.”

  “Okay, I’ll do the flip.” She took out a coin, tossed it into the air and said, “Call it.”

  “Heads,” and it was. My turn first.

  I took my ditty bag and went to the bathroom. I had a nice warm shower. Returning to the room, the lady was in the bed all curled up and asleep. I raised the covers. She had on a SHORT NIGHTIE. WOW! Was she looking good! I shook her awake, “My turn for the bed.”

  She only said, “Go-a-Way.” So I went around the bed, pulled the covers back, turned off the light and slipped in.

  The next thing I knew it was morning. There she was sitting in the armchair putting on lipstick. Damn, I was hoping to beat her up and get my kicks watching her dress. Now, she would watch me. Oh well, I jumped up, grabbed my pants and pulled them on. All the time, she kept saying, “You’re not bad looking, good body, too.” She had a big smile on her face.

  I said, “You some kind-a mind reader or just a nut?”

  “I love good looking men, but you’re too young for me.”

  I said, “Ain’t that just great.” I see this desirable woman and she says I’m too young.

  She said, “I’ll bet I’m at least 5 years older than you.”

  I let it drop and asked, “By the way, what is your name?”

  “Mildred Clinghoffer.”

  “Clinghoffer?” I asked.

  “Don’t laugh, that’s my name.”

  “Okay by me. I’ll call ya LT, okay?”

  “Fine by me,” she said.

  After getting dressed, we had breakfast downstairs. The owner, who looked to be in his sixties, visited with us during the meal, a real nice old gent. He told us he was glad the war was over and that Hitler was no longer in charge, and he had a brother in the States. He hoped to visit him when everything settled down.

  He helped me get the bike out and on the road. LT jumped in the sidecar. We waved good-bye and took off.

  Back on the road, we would stop in small villages and ask questions about the road ahead. We always drew a crowd of young kids. I guess the war hadn’t been over long enough for them to see many Americans.
I had a bag of candy bars and packets of cigarettes. We tried to be good ambassadors. The children were great. I think we did a good job for Americans.

  We stayed the next night in the city of Frankfurt. It once must have been a beautiful city. It had been bombed heavily. The people were working like honey-bees putting the buildings back in shape.

  We had separate rooms in a hotel in the center of the city. The hotel was partly finished. The kitchen was up and running. What great meals we had there. Everyone was friendly and ready to answer any questions we had. LT had plenty. I tried to shut her up when she asked about the war. No luck, she kept asking. There were some amazing answers to her questions. Like how little the people had known what was going on in their country. They had had no idea how bad the War was going for them. They just knew their lives were bad and they were hungry. All of them said they were glad the war was over. We left early the next morning. It would be a long day to get to our posted town, Augsburg, Germany.

  Chapter 7

  Augsburg, Germany – Jen – Homeward Bound

  We stopped for lunch at another small village. We had our meal at a bombed repaired café. During this time, we had a lot of people stop and say how glad they were to have Americans in southern Germany. The kids were great, we passed out all the candy bars we both had. What smiles we received from them. Lots of “danke-schons!” They made us feel right at home in all the villages we stopped in.

  On down the road, I pulled off to the side as I wanted to have a talk with LT. I wanted to know why she was going to the same town as I. She told me she was to be an assistant to a Major Jones. “Major Jones has to go back to the states as there is something wrong at the Major’s home. I will be the officer in charge while the Major is gone,” she said proudly.

  “Holy Cow, you’ll be my boss,” I said with a smile.

  She just laughed. How cute she was. “You’ll be my interpreter. We will be close all the time.”

  That made me laugh. I told her, “That will be great.”

  She told me she had a Ph.D. in social science and that the Major had been a Transportation Officer. “The army is throwing officers into jobs they know nothing about. I’m to help the Major help Germany to be a democracy.”

  We finally arrived in Augsburg in the evening hours. It was well after dark. I drove to the town hall. It was closed. A beautiful old hotel was across the town square. The hotel had some bomb damage but was being repaired. We drove the bike up to the front entrance and walked into the lobby. In the hotel, we met a Master Sergeant Dale Hanson a man about thirty-five years old, slightly balding. He had a friendly smile and a warm welcome. He told us he was Major Brown’s Administrative Assistant and all the Army personal lived in this hotel. He had dinner with us and helped to check us into the hotel.

  He said there was a detail of twenty GI’s serving as occupation troops in this town. He told us he wasn’t too happy with them. All of them had just come from basic training in the last several months. “Major Jones don’t ride herd very well and the Sergeant in charge is a transportation trained non-com, not much of a leader.” With that conversation, LT and I went to our rooms and to bed. I got a front room on the second floor overlooking the town square. LT got a room next door.

  The next morning, LT and I took breakfast in the hotel café. The detail of GI’s was there. No one said a word to us. We really got the once over. It didn’t bother me, but LT said they were rude not to make us feel at home. I told her, “So what! We might interfere with their play house and they know it.”

  After breakfast, we reported to Major Jones. To our surprise, the Major was a Wac, Major Jo Jones, a lady in her early thirties. A redhead, not bad looking, showing a nice figure in her uniform. I could see she was uneasy in the job she was doing. She was pleasant and went overboard in her welcome to us. She said, “I want us to be friends. Be good to everybody. I don’t want any trouble in this town.” She told us she needed us. She said she didn’t speak any German at all. She also said she was a lawyer and didn’t know why she was given this job.

  LT spoke up and said, “We’ll help you all we can.” That made her tear up and gave us a big smile. I thought for a second she was going to hug and kiss us both.

  We sat and visited with her for several hours. She did tell me to take off my blue infantry braid and infantry brass. “You’re now in the Signal Corp. I don’t want the town people to be reminded of the war.”

  I told her in no uncertain terms, “I want them to remember why we were here and that we were here to help them get their lives back together. I’ll be damned if I’ll quit wearing my Infantry Combat Badge.” End of conversation.

  She backed off pronto. I could see LT and I had a big job ahead of us.

  Major Jo, that’s what she wanted us to call her, told us she had to go home as her father was ill and she had orders cut to go. We would have to take over while she was gone. I could see LT would like to be in charge.

  Major Jo was on her way home the next day. LT wanted to know where to start. Sgt. Hanson had her set a meeting to inform the boys that there would be no more screwing off and not paying attention to orders. LT really sounded tough. HA, HA! She was a real push over, so we found out. Things got bad, the boys got clear out-a hand. The Sgt. and I got LT to put in a transfer for the whole bunch, using disorderly conduct. Some people don’t know how good they had it.

  About a week later, this Lieutenant Colonel shows up. He said the 82nd Airborne Division was taking over the occupation duties in Southern Germany American zone and he was in command. He made it plain he was a no nonsense kind-a officer. Ok by me. He asked right away where LT wanted to be transferred. She said without hesitation, “Berlin.”

  I knew she wanted access to husband-finding territory. The Lt. Colonel said he would cut her orders pronto. He then asked M/Sgt. Hanson what he would like.

  Hanson said, “I’m a lifer, any motor pool will do.”

  “Okay, Sergeant, you’ll stay with us.” He turned to me next, “What do you do, son?”

  “I’m an interpreter.”

  “We have two in our ranks. Anything else you want?”

  I told him “I just want-a go home.”

  “I’ll have your orders cut. You’ll be on your way in a few weeks.”

  LT left the next day for Berlin. She had a staff car to take her. Before she got in the car, I took her in my arms and planted a passionate kiss on her beautiful lips.

  “Maybe I should stay? No,” she said, “Al, you’re too young for me, besides I want a man with money.” She got in the car and I watched it drive away.

  Hanson was there with me and I said to him, “I’m sure gonna miss that girl.”

  Hanson made a suggestion, “You have no duties, why don’t you take a jeep and go look for the hospitals in the American zone. Maybe you can find your girlfriend before you ship for home.”

  Good idea. I asked headquarters for a list of hospitals, packed an overnight bag, hooked a jeep full of gas and headed out. The first two hospitals I visited, in one I found a nurse who knew Jen but didn’t know where she was. The next was up by Stuttgart. I drove up a long road leading to the hospital. Outside, on a big front lawn, there were patients in wheelchairs and white uniformed nurses enjoying a sunny day. There were several dozen people.

  I surveyed the situation closely, going from nurse to nurse. I saw one nurse kneeling down talking with a wheel-chaired patient. I looked past her to the next then for some unknown reason I looked back when she stood up. JEN! No doubt about it, it was her. I’d know that shape in a thousand.

  I leaped out of the jeep, almost fell down and ran to within ten feet of her and said in a low voice, “Jen.” She turned to see me standing there. She ran at me almost knocking me down.

  She threw her arms around me and said loud and clear, “Al, where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all the time and everywhere.”

  “So have I, Jen. I was afraid I would never find you.”

  I’ll tell you, a w
hole lot-a kissing and hugging went on for some time. The Nurses and patients must have thought it was a strange world that an officer and GI would make such a fuss over each other.

  “Jen, I have orders to go home. Can you go with me now?”

  “Yes, I have enough time, I can go anytime.”

  We went to her headquarters, got her orders cut immediately for her to go. She got her gear together. We drove back to Augsburg. The Lieutenant Colonel turned out to be an understanding fellow. He got air transportation from an airfield near Stuttgart to Fort Dix, New Jersey. I packed my duff and Jen and I got on a converted B-24 cargo plane. In twenty-four hours, we were back in the good old US of A. We hunted up a marriage license and an Army Chaplain. We got married in a small Chapel on the post. To our surprise, the Chapel filled to capacity with well wishers. We both were separated from the Army the next day.

  Holy Cow, we spent our wedding night in the BOQ and what a night it was. My love was some lover.

  We took a train to my home on the ranch. It was a reunion I will never forget. My folks, brothers and their families all fell in love with Jen. Who wouldn’t? I went back and got my High School diploma. Jen worked part time in a local hospital. My folks offered me manager of the ranch, how lucky could a guy be?

  My time with the 90th was unforgettable. I think of my buddies and friends all the time. Old Hank, Sgt. Billy Joe, Sgt. Rocky, Sgt. Jimmy Good and, of course, LT will be etched into my brain the rest of my life. They’re all young viable guys to me. God Bless all the men and women who served in that horrible time, surely we will all meet again.

  About the Author

  F.M.Worden lives in Tucson, Arizona with his wife Beverly of 57 years. They have 1 daughter, 5 sons, 12 grandchildren and 3 great-grandchildren. An avid student of American history, his motto is “If you don’t know where you’ve been, you sure don’t know where you’re going.” He spent 13 and a half years in the Arizona National Guard, 4years in the Army Reserve. He’s a graduate of Tank gunnery school, as well as NCO leadership school and Infantry Officer Training at Fort Benning, Georgia. A successful owner of three small businesses, he also enjoys racing quarter horses with one champion. F.M. Worden has also authored the novel The Two Sams: Men of the West.