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Post by floydragsdale on Nov 13, 2009 13:16:52 GMT -5
An infantry soldier had no guarantee that he would see the sunset, or sunrise the next day.
I don't see how anyone could face front line duty without faith in God.
Army chaplains held services, whenever and where-ever they could. I recall one service that was held in a chicken house; minus the chickens, of course.
G.I.'s attending had an opportunity to express some of their thoughts and prayers. Believe me, some words spoken at that service were enough to make a grown man shed tears.
I never met an atheist "up front!"
Floyd,
424th Regiment
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Post by connie on Nov 15, 2009 12:22:04 GMT -5
Floyd,
I know nothing about the number of chaplains or how they were distributed -- one to a regiment or battalion or more down to the battery or (??) level?
The infantry in this war and every war take the initial, hardest hit. During the Bulge others, too, experienced more than a taste of what you experienced daily. I suspect the Chaplain and a faith became important to all...
I'd be interested in hearing more about the chaplains and the places services were held.
You also touch on an area that I have been thinking on a lot. Beyond faith or immeshed with it I think about things that soldiers focused on in fox holes... in POW camps... and elsewhere... the things that helped them keep their sanity. Maybe it was the moments after the worst action that were the hardest...? There are times when the instinct for survival kicks in and there isn't time to think...
Anyway, I'm glad you brought this up...
Connie
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Post by floydragsdale on Nov 17, 2009 12:41:28 GMT -5
Connie:
Excuse me for being so "lopsided" with my thoughts & words; yet infantry was all many font-line soldiers knew.
During the B.O.B., the early stages especially, cooks, band members and whoever was close to where the action was and could fire a weapon, instantly became involved in the fighting. There were three choices; fight, surrender, or die.
How close the 424th Regiment came to surrendering, I'll probably never know; nevertheless we escaped that fate by a narrow margin, to be sure. At one time we were behind the German lines.
Very foggy, damp weather was an asset in muting sounds and limiting visibility to a few yards. Hand signals were used to maneuver us through the German lines that were only 50 yards from us.
Also, at the same time, we were picking our way through a mine field. A soldier in front of me came close to breaking a trip wire between two surface mines. As I relate this to you, that moment is very real in my minds eye! Had that mine been set off, I believe all hell would have broke loose from that moment on. Miraculously, not a man was lost during that ordeal of getting back to our lines.
Religious services were not held, as I think about it, very often during the B.O.B. The "chicken house" service I remember very well. When we were in San Quintin, France, services were held in a warehouse. Chaplains managed a service when there was time and the situation permitted it and, there was a place to accommodate a gathering of troops.
during quiet times, in a foxhole, my thoughts were, most of the time, about home. Simple things of life were a luxury. Example; the warmth of a living room; getting a cool drink of water from the kitchen; or a walk to the corner drugstore for a soda. - - - During the heat of battle, there was nothing to think about but the surroundings around your area and, survival.
Rest and warmth were a priority, when all was quiet. Sleep we could manage, somehow. However, keeping warm was always a problem. After getting some rest something to eat was next on our minds.
As winter draws near, in this area, B.O.B. memories will be on my mind more frequently.
Floyd
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