band of brothers小说[分享]

yuemuping

"let's see you take the neck off one of those bottles." carson aimed, fired, and shattered a bottle. speirs took his turn with the same results; soon they were banging away.
sergeant talbert came storming in, red-faced, ready to shoot the offenders of the company order. he saw carson first. "carson, i'll have your ass for this," he shouted. just as he started explaining that captain speirs had ordered no shooting, speirs stepped out from behind carson, a smoking .45 in his hand.
after a few seconds of silence, speirs spoke: "i'm sorry, sergeant. i caused this. i forgot my own order."
webster, luz, and o'keefe had meanwhile found their way to goering's wine cellar. they were late, the other easy men had already been there and winters had withdrawn the guard, throwing the cellar open to anyone. as webster, luz, and o'keefe drove to the site in luz's volkswagen, they saw a steady stream of german trucks, volkswagens, even armored cars winding up the road to the officers' club.
the last contingent of e company men had a wooden box with them, which they stuffed with bottles. "i was shocked to find that most of the champagne was new and mediocre," webster remarked. "here was no napoleon brandy and the champagne had been bottled in the late 1930s. i was disappointed in hitler."
what webster failed to take into account was that nixon had preceded him, and nixon was a connoisseur of fine liquor, and he had picked out five truckloads for himself and the other officers long before webster, also a self-styled connoisseur, arrived. "on this occasion," an amused winters commented, "the yale man [nixon] pulled his rank on the harvard boy."
outside the club, webster, luz, and o'keefe ran into a group of french soldiers, drinking, shouting "la guerre est finis! la guerre est finis!" shooting their machine-pistols into the sky, slapping the americans on the back, asking for cigarettes, offering drinks.
the americans gave away cigarettes, shook hands all around, and took off, driving back to their apartment as fast as possible. and there, webster wrote, "began a party unequalled. popping corks, spilling champagne, breaking bottles. raucous laughter, ringing shouts, stuttering, lisping sentences. have anusher glash. here, goddammit, lemme pop that cork—ish my turn. ishn thish wunnerful? shugalug. filler up. where is hitler? we gotta thank hitler, the shun uwa bish. bershteshgaden, i love you.
"and that was the end of the war."
everyone in europe was celebrating, victor and vanquished. first among the celebrants were the young men in uniform. they had survived, they would live, they had the best cause to celebrate.
on the morning of may 8, o'keefe and harry lager went looking for eggs. they came to a farmhouse in a clearing, smoke curling up from the chimney. they kicked the door in, then ran inside with rifles ready to fire, and scared the hell out of two italian deserters who jumped straight up and froze.
there was a bottle of champagne on a table. with one quick motion the italian nearest it grabbed the neck of the bottle, stuck it out toward o'keefe, whose rifle was pointed straight toward his stomach, and offered a drink, saying "pax!"
the tension snapped. they drank to peace. the americans left, to continue their egg hunt. they came to a lodge in the woods. "it was beautifully situated," o'keefe wrote. "a man in his late twenties in civilian clothes was standing on a low porch at the front of the house. as we came to the steps leading up to the porch, he stepped down with a smile on his face and said, in english, 'the war is over. i have been listening to the wireless.'
"he was holding himself erect but it was noticeable that he had a bad right leg. i glanced at it; he explained, 'i was with the afrika korps and was shot up badly and sent home. i was a soldier.'
"he asked us to come in and have a glass of wine. we said 'no' but he said 'wait! i'll bring it out,' and he left, to reappear with three glasses of wine. we raised them in salute, as he said, 'to the end of the war.' we raised ours, and we all drank. there was something basically soldierly and right about it."
they found some eggs, returned to their apartment, and celebrated the end of the war with scrambled eggs and hitler's champagne.

18 the soldier's dream life
*
austria
may 8- july 31,1945
late on the afternoon of may 8, winters got orders to prepare 2nd battalion to move out that night for zell am see, austria, some 30 kilometers south of berchtesgaden, where it would take up occupation duty. at, 2200 hours the convoy began to roll, headlights on full beam. in the back of the trucks the men continued their party, drinking, singing, gambling. when the convoy arrived at zell am see in the morning, the men were dirty, unshaven, wearing grimy army fatigue pants and blouses.
german soldiers were everywhere. zell am see was as far south as the wehrmacht could retreat; beyond it were the peaks of the alps, and beyond them italy, and all the passes were still closed by snow. there were, it turned out, about 25,000 armed german soldiers in the area of responsibility of 2nd battalion, which numbered fewer than 600 men.
the contrast in appearance was almost as great as the contrast in numbers. the conquering army looked sloppy, unmilitary, ill-disciplined,- the conquered army looked sharp, with an impressive military appearance and obvious discipline. winters felt that the german soldiers and austrian civilians must have wondered, as they gazed fascinated at the first american troops to arrive in the area, how on earth they could have lost to these guys.
winters set up battalion hq in the village of kaprun, 4 kilometers south of zell am see. the valley was one of the most famous mountain resort areas in the world, especially popular with rich germans. the accommodation, ranging from the zim-mei fiei at farmhouses to luxurious hotels, were stunning. all the rooms were occupied by wounded german soldiers. they had to move out, to be sent by truck or train to stockades in the munich area. the americans moved in.
their job was to maintain order, to gather in all german soldiers, disarm them, and ship them off to p.o.w. camps. winters got started the morning of may 9, immediately upon arrival. he had the senior german commander in the area brought to him. "i was twenty-seven years old," winters recalls, "and like all the troops, i was wearing a dirty, well-worn combat fatigue jacket and pants, and had that bucket on my head for a helmet. i felt a little ridiculous giving orders to a professional german colonel about twenty years my senior, who was dressed in a clean field uniform with his medals all over his chest."
winters gave his orders anyway. he directed the colonel to see to the collection of all weapons in the area and to stack them in the airport, at the school, and in the church yard. he gave officers permission to keep their side arms and allowed german military police to retain their weapons. and he said that the following day he would inspect the german camps, troops, and kitchens.
the next morning, may 10, winters and nixon drove by jeep to inspect the arms dumps. they were shocked by what they saw: in all three locations, a mountain of weapons. winters realized he had made a mistake when he said "all weapons." he had meant military weapons, but the colonel had taken him too literally. there was a fantastic collection of hunting rifles, target rifles, hunting knives, antique firearms of all kinds, as well as a full division's stock of military weapons. it seemed enough to start world war iii.
when he inspected the camps and kitchens, winters found everything well organized. troops were lined up for review, looking parade-ground sharp, clean, well-dressed, in good condition. the kitchens were in good order; the cooks were making large kettles of potato soup over fires.
thereafter, winters dealt with an english-speaking german staff officer, who came to his hq each morning to report and receive orders. there was no trouble,- in winters' words, "we left them alone, they respected us." the german staff officer would tell stories about his tour of duty on the eastern front, and of fighting against the 101st in bastogne. he told winters, "our armies should join hands and wipe out the russian army."
"no thanks," winters replied. "all i want to do is get out of the army and go home."
that was what nearly everyone wanted, none more than the german troops. before any could be released, however, all had to be screened. the german encampments were crawling with nazis, many of whom had put on enlisted men's uniforms to escape detection. (the most notorious of these was adolf eichmann, wearing the uniform of a luftwaffe corporal in a camp near berchtesgaden. he managed to escape before he was detected, got to argentina with his family and lived well until 1960 when israeli agents discovered his whereabouts, captured him in a daring commando raid, brought him to israel for trial, and hanged him.)
lieutenant lipton was serving as leader of the machine-gun platoon in hq company, 2nd battalion. winters assigned him to oversee a lager of several hundred prisoners. one of them was ferdinand porsche, designer of the volkswagen and the panther and tiger tanks. in mid-may, lipton cleared about 150 of the prisoners for release. the senior german officer, a colonel, asked permission to talk to-them before they were let go. lipton agreed.
"his talk was long and was a good one," lipton recalled. "he told them that germany had lost the war, that they had been good soldiers and he was proud of them, and that they should go back to their homes and rebuild their lives. he said that all of them were needed for the reconstruction of germany. when he finished, the men gave a loud cheer," and took off.
other high-ranking german officials, men who had good reason to fear that they would be charged with war crimes, were hiding in the mountains. speirs was told by the d.p.s about a man who had been the nazi head of the slave labor camps in the area and had committed a great many atrocities. he investigated, asked questions, and became convinced they were telling the truth. further investigation revealed that this man was living on a small farm nearby.
speirs called in 1st sergeant lynch. he explained the situation, then gave his order: "take moone, liebgott, and sisk, find him, and eliminate him."
lynch gathered the men, explained the mission, got a weapons carrier, and took off up the mountain. during the trip, moone thought about his predicament. he was sure that captain speirs did not have the authority to order an execution based on testimony from the d.p.s. but speirs was the company c.o. and moone was just an enlisted man carrying out an order. he decided, "i'm not complying with this bullshit. if someone has to do the shooting, it won't be me."
they got to the farm and without a struggle took the nazi prisoner. liebgott interrogated him for thirty minutes, then declared there could be no doubt, this was the man they wanted, and he was guilty as charged. the americans pushed the man at gun point to the weapons carrier, then drove off. lynch stopped beside a ravine. they prodded the man out of the vehicle. liebgott drew his pistol and shot him twice.
the prisoner began screaming. he turned and ran up the hill. lynch ordered moone to shoot him.
"you shoot him," moone replied. "the war is over."

yuemuping

skinny sisk stepped forward, leveled his m-l at the fleeing man, and shot him dead.
after the p.o.w.s and d.p.s were sorted and shipped out of the area, the next job was to sort out and consolidate all the captured german equipment and the u.s. army equipment no longer needed for combat. as the material was gathered and registered, convoys of trucks took it to depots in france.
officers were ordered to turn in the silk escape map of france they had received before the jump into normandy or be fined $75. as those maps were damn near sacred to the d-day veterans, there was universal noncompliance. when told to pay the fine, winters replied for the entire battalion, taking his line from general mcauliffe: "nuts." the regimental supply officer, capt. herbert sobel, backed down.
given the absence of resistance, indeed the enthusiastic cooperation of the germans and austrians, by the end of the third week in may there was little real work left for the americans. all kp, washing clothes, cleaning quarters, or construction tasks were done by local residents anxious to make some money or receive food or cigarettes. time was hanging heavy on the heads of the young men lusting to go home.
winters had a track built, a tennis court, and a baseball field, then a rifle range. competitions were held, between companies, battalions, regiments, all the way up to eto. he held daily close-order drills.
there were men who loved it. to the serious athletes, those with hopes of a future college or professional career, it was a marvelous opportunity to train. they were excused from all duties, lived in a separate athletic dorm, and got to practice or compete every day. to the few who planned to make a career of the army, it was a chance to practice their profession.
but to the majority, neither jocks nor career soldiers, it was a bore. they found their outlets in four other ways: as tourists in the alps, hunting, drinking, and chasing women. the zeller see, a lake some 4 kilometers in length and 2 in width, was a breathtaking bit of beauty, and a joy to swim in on the long, sunny days of late may and early june. "my bathing suit is getting quite a workout," webster wrote his mother on may 20. "will you please mail me another of very gaily colored trunks from abercrombie and fitch as quickly as possible? waist 32, preferably shorts, not trunks."
on the mountain behind kaprun there was a ski lodge. the chair lift to the lodge was kaput, but it could be reached by climbing the mountain trail. winters set up a program to rotate one platoon every three days to the lodge for r and r. at the lodge there were austrian servants and cooks, ski instructors, and hunting guides. the skiing was fabulous; so was the hunting for mountain goats.
there were deer at a lower level, hundreds of them, as this was a prime hunting area for the european aristocracy. the 101st was at the end of the pipeline in the distribution of food. everyone from the ports of cherbourg and le havre right on down the pipeline had a crack at the food first, and they all had civilian girlfriends to take care of and a flourishing black market to tempt them. so not enough food was getting to the alps. the paratroopers went out in hunting parties for deer,- venison became a staple in the diet. private freeman got a browning shotgun and supplemented the venison with quail and other birds.
"women, broads, dames, beetles, girls, skirts, frails, molls, babe, frauleins, mademoiselles: that's what the boys wanted," webster wrote. he went on to describe the results: "the cooks were keeping mistresses; the platoon lovers were patronizing the barn; mccreary had a married woman in town; reese installed his in a private house; carson fed an educated, beautiful, sophisticated polish blond (whom he later married); the platoon staff visited a d.p. camp nightly; and in zell am see, home of the most beautiful women in europe, the lads with the sunburned blondes were fulfilling their dreams—after talking about women for three years, they now had all they could want. it was the complete failure of the non-fraternization policy."
for those who had wanted and could afford them, there had been women in london, paris, along the ruhr, but, webster observed, "in austria, where the women were cleaner, fairer, better built, and more willing than in any other part of europe, the g.i.s had their field day."
the flow of booze was never ending. on may 28, webster wrote his parents, "since leaving berchtesgaden, we've had a bun on every night. two days ago we hijacked a german wehrmacht warehouse to the tune of a couple of cases of gin—forty-eight bottles all told. your package with the orange juice powder, therefore, came in very handy."
captain speirs had only one standing order about the drinking—no drunkenness outside. this was strictly enforced by the sergeants, who wanted no incidents with drunken soldier boys on guard duty, or just wandering the streets and mountain paths. in their quarters, however, the men were free to drink all they could hold. most of them drank more than that.
webster's squad kept a pitcher of iced tea and gin full and handy. each night, he wrote, "by eight o'clock matthews was lisping and stuttering; marsh was bragging about his squad and how they obeyed him; sholty was sitting quietly on a bed, grinning; winn was laughing and shouting and talking about bastogne; mccreary was boasting of his courage ('there ain't no in this platoon braver than i am buddy') with immodesty but complete truth; gilmore was pressing clothes furiously, a peculiar and most welcome manifestation of his high spirits,- hale slobbered and poured himself another drink; chris, who never got rowdy, sat back in cold silence; rader had passed out in the armchair; and i, who had passed out gracefully and without a struggle, was sound asleep."
the lads would work off their hangovers with an afternoon swim or game of softball. winters was a nondrinker, who neither approved nor disapproved of drinking; his two best friends, welsh and nixon, were heavy drinkers. he never berated anyone for getting drunk on his own time. had he ever been tempted to do so, he got a reminder each afternoon of why these excesses were taking place. the boys would wear shorts and nothing else in the warm sun while they played softball. nearly every one of them had at least one scar. some men had two, three, or even four scars on their chest, back, arms or legs. "and keep in mind," he concluded, "that at kaprun i was looking only at the men who were not seriously wounded."
there was another reminder of the price that e company and the others had paid to get to where they were. on june 5, at 2200 hours, the men celebrated the first anniversary of their jump into normandy. webster was struck by the contrast. a year earlier, at 2200 hours, "my heart was beating like gene krupa's drum and my stomach was tied up and very empty. . . . now i am sitting in a cosy house in the austrian alps. i have a tall glass of iced tea and gin in one hand, my pen in the other. a lot of boys who took off from that devonshire airport are dead, buried in lovely cemeteries in ste. mere-eglise, son, and in belgium, but i'm still here and very thankful for it and tonight we shall remember them in a way they would have thought most fitting— by having a wild, noisy party."
the officers too were having an on-going party. speirs had snatched a couple of cases of fine brandy, which he enjoyed in his living quarters with a beautiful polish d.p. and her small child. colonel sink gave some memorable parties at his hq, the hotel zell. one night he invited all 506 officers to meet general taylor and his staff. it was a bash. colonel strayer, who according to lieutenant foley "could put away quite a bit of liquor, got a little rambunctious." he got into a fistfight with a general. lieutenant foley and a couple of others got a bright idea. they went to the parking lot and siphoned most of the gas from general taylor's mercedes (it had belonged to hitler). they thought it would be very funny when he ran out of gas on his way back to berchtesgaden in the middle of the night.
the next morning, sunday, colonel sink ordered a special officers call. they assembled outside the hotel. sink laid into them. he said their behavior was disgraceful. he touched especially on the brawling and on the practical joke. he had just gotten off the phone with general taylor, whose car had run out of gas and who had sat there for hours while his driver searched for a jerrican. foley, who did not confess, reported that "sink didn't give a damn whether enlisted men stopped and listened, he was angry and he didn't care who heard him give everyone of us hell, spelled h-e-l-l."
sink never stayed mad long. a week later he laid on a huge fourth of july celebration. but on the fourth it rained, and again on the fifth. never mind: the sixth was a beautiful day and the celebration began. "sink on the sixth," the men called it.
there were athletic events of all kinds. gliders and sail planes sailed across the lake, riding the mountain currents. troop carrier command lent the regiment a c-47 for the afternoon, and there was a jump of twelve men into the lake. food and drink was plentiful. in the park, local musicians dressed in lederhosen played all the oomp-pa-pa tunes. the g.i.s requested pop songs from america, but the austrians needed practice. everyone danced. all the girls wore d.p. armbands (nonfraternization applied only to germans and austrians; d.p.s were exempt; the armbands d.p.s wore to distinguish themselves were lavishly distributed to the local mountain girls) but, as lieutenant foley remembered it, "there wasn't one displaced person at the celebration."
mountain weather, unlimited sports, women and booze, easy duty, good hunting and a hard-assed colonel whom everyone loved, zell am see provided, in webster's view, "the soldier's dream life."
it should have been the most perfect summer ever for the men of e company. in fact, after the first couple of weeks, most of them hated it. they were frustrated by the army bureaucracy, they were bored, they were drinking far too much, and they wanted to go home.
getting home depended on points, which became virtually the sole topic of conversation and led to much bad feeling. the point system set up by the army gave a man points for each active duty service month, points for campaigns, points for medals, points for being married. the magic number was 85 points. those with that many or more were eligible for immediate shipment home and discharge. those with fewer points were doomed to stay with the division, presumably right on through to the big jump in china or japan.

yuemuping

so for the first time in their army careers, the officers and men became seriously concerned with medals. a bronze star was worth five points. inevitably the army's hierarchical and bureaucratic systems played favorites. lieutenant foley recalled "the regimental adjutant who picked up a bronze star for—according to rumor—selecting the hotel zell for sink's hq."
the men of easy felt cheated in another way: in the paratroopers it had been damn near impossible to win a medal other than the purple heart. "in the 101st, for example," webster wrote, "only two men had been awarded the medal of honor— a private and a lieutenant colonel from the 502—and they had both been killed in action. major winters, who had acquired it legitimately in a fracas with a german battery in normandy, wore the only distinguished service cross in the 2nd battalion. in e company, captain speirs and two or three others had 100-proof silver stars and about twelve men displayed bronze stars. of purple hearts there were aplenty, but that was not a decoration but a badge of office: infantry."
most of the men in e company had for decorations only the four battle stars on their eto ribbon, no more than a personnel clerk who had never left base camp. "there was macclung, for instance," webster complained. "he was quiet, lanky, and unimpressive, and no noticed him. but his buddies in the third platoon swore that old one lung had killed more germans than any other man in the battalion. macclung could smell kraut; he hunted them,- he pursued them in dawn attacks and on night patrols; he went out of his way to kill them; he took more chances and volunteered for more dangerous jobs than any other man in e company. macclung had made every day of normandy, holland, and bastogne, and what did he have to show for it? an eto ribbon and four battle stars."
sgt. shifty powers was in the same category. as good a soldier as there was in the 101st, he had no medals, no purple heart, so not enough points. but the grumbling had grown to such proportions that general taylor decided to have a drawing in each company,- the winner would be rotated home. powers did not want to attend the drawing. "hell, paul," he told sergeant rogers, "i've never won anything in my life." but rogers persuaded him to go, and he won.
immediately, another soldier offered powers $1,000 for that trip home. powers recalled, "i thought about that for a while, $1,000 was a lot of money, but finally i said, 'no, i think i'll just go home.' "
powers gathered up his loot, mainly pistols, got his paperwork done, drew his back pay, and joined the ten other lucky men for a ride to munich. going around a curve, a g.i. truck hit their truck head on. powers flew out and over the top of the truck, hit the pavement, broke some bones, and got a bad concussion. another one of the "lucky" soldiers was killed. powers went to hospital, where he lost all his back pay and souvenirs to thieves. he eventually got home via a hospital ship, months after the comrades he had left behind.
adding to the frustration of seeing cooks and clerks get the same points as front-line infantry was the haphazard record keeping. all the men spent hours totaling up their points, but the trick was to convince the regimental adjutant's office. webster was sure he had 87 points, but his records indicated he had fewer than 80.
general taylor tried to help his veterans. he decreed that every man who had taken part in normandy, holland, and belgium, or who had made two of those campaigns and missed a third because of wounds, would receive a bronze star. this was widely appreciated, of course, but temporarily caused more frustration because it took weeks after taylor's announcement before the medal and citation—and with them the all-important five points—actually came through.
all this chicken stuff created intense dissatisfaction with the army and its ways. recruiters were circulating among the officers and men, trying to persuade them to join the regular army. almost none did. webster articulated the feelings of most of his fellow soldiers: "i hate this army with a vehemence so deep and undying i'll never speak good of it as long as i live," he wrote his parents. "i consider my time spent in the army as 90% wasted." the only thing that he would concede was "i did learn how to get along with people." when sink offered winters a regular commission, winters thought about it for a moment or two, and then said he would rather not.
adding to the problems of frustration and anger caused by the point system was the combination of too much liquor, too many pistols, and too many captured vehicles. road accidents were almost as dangerous to the 101st in austria as the german army had been in belgium. in the first three weeks in austria, there were seventy wrecks, more in the six weeks of june and july. twenty men were killed, nearly 100 injured.
one night sgt. robert marsh was driving pvt. john janovec back from a roadblock by a side road. janovec was leaning on the unreliable door of a german truck. they hit a log. he lost his balance, fell, and hit his head on the pavement. marsh rushed him to the regimental aid station in zell am see, but he died on the way of a fractured skull. captain speirs gathered up his few personal possessions, a watch, his wings, his wallet, and his parachute scarf, and mailed them to janovec's parents. "he had come a long way," webster wrote. "he had jumped in holland and fought in bastogne. he hated the army, and now, when the war is over and the golden prospect of home was in sight, he had died."
marsh had not been drinking. easy company was proud of its record with regard to mounting guard duty or manning roadblocks with sober, responsible soldiers, and in not driving drunk. others were not so careful. private o'keefe recalled the night he was at a roadblock with pvt. lloyd guy halfway between saal-felden and zell am see. "an open german staff car came barreling down the road, not prepared to stop. guy and i jumped out in front of it and made them stop. there were two men dressed in german uniforms, both drunk. 'what the hell you stopping us for? we're on your side.'
"they were a couple of our paratroopers, but from some other company. we told them, 'damn it, you could have got your heads blown off!'
"they finally promised to slow down on the driving. we told them the next guard post was about ten miles up the road, to keep an eye out for it, and to slow down to a crawl. they promised to take it easy.
"but when we got back we learned that those two damn fools had barreled right through welling's post with welling out yelling, 'halt! halt!' after the third 'halt!' welling took one shot and hit the driver." later welling visited the wounded man in the hospital; he said he had no hard feelings toward welling, that he would have done the same thing.
sgt. "chuck" grant, an original toccoa man, was a smiling, athletic, fair-haired californian who was universally respected— he had knocked out an 88 in holland—and liked. one night he was driving a couple of privates to a roadblock for a changing of the guard. as they arrived, they saw a commotion.
a drunken g.i. was standing with a pistol in his hand, two dead germans at his feet. he had stopped them in their vehicle and demanded gasoline, as he was out. but he had no german, they had no english, he concluded they were resisting, and shot them.
a british major from military intelligence happened to have been driving by. he and his sergeant got out of their jeep to see what was going on. the drunken g.i. pointed his pistol at them and told them to back off.
at that moment, grant came driving past. the drunk took a shot at him, but missed. the major made a move to disarm the man. the g.i. turned on him and shot him dead, then his sergeant. grant came running over; the drunk shot him in the brain, then ran off.
speirs thought the world of grant. when he heard of the shooting, he and lieutenant foley jumped in a jeep, drove to the site, got grant on a stretcher, and roared off for the regimental aid station. the doctor there was a disgrace, unshaven, unkempt, wearing a badly stained shirt. he took a quick look at grant and said there was "no hope."
"bull shit," said speirs, who put grant back on the stretcher and roared off again, this time for saalfelden. speirs had heard there were some german specialists there. one of them was a brain specialist from berlin. he operated immediately and saved grant's life.
word of the shooting flashed through the billets. e company went out en masse to find the culprit. he was found trying to rape an austrian girl in zell am see. he was a recent replacement in company i. to the expressed disgust of many of the men, he was brought back to company hq alive.
he almost wished he hadn't been. half the company was milling around him, threatening, kicking, swearing vengeance. before anything more serious happened, captain speirs came rushing in, straight from the hospital.
"where's the weapon?" speirs shouted at the prisoner.
"what weapon?"
speirs pulled his pistol, reversed his grip to hold it by the barrel, and hit the man right in the temple with the butt. he started screaming, "when you talk to an officer, you say 'sir,' " and hit him again.
the g.i. slumped into a chair, stunned. pvt. hack hansen from grant's 2nd platoon, and close buddy, came running in. he whipped out his pistol. "you son of a bitch," he cursed. "i've killed better men than you." he put the pistol right in the man's face. four men grabbed hansen from behind and tried to pull him away, shouting that death was too good for such a coward, but he pulled the trigger. the pistol misfired.
"you ought to have seen the look of that guy," gordon carson remarked.
they beat him unconscious, then carried him to the regimental guardhouse and turned him over to the provost sergeant. when he revived, the provost sergeant beat him until the blood ran.

yuemuping

sink came to company hq. he strode in and asked sergeant carson, "where's speirs?"
"up on the second floor, sir."
sink went up and got the facts from speirs. it took the better part of an hour. sink left, and speirs came down.
"how'd it go?" carson asked.
"pretty rough."
"well, what did he say?"
"he said i should have shot the son of a bitch."
that he did not is remarkable. one explanation i got from a number of men was-that speirs must have had some doubt that the arrested man was the right man. when i asked speirs about this, he replied, "as to the sergeant grant shooting you have it right. there must have been doubt in my mind, because summary action never troubled me."
but i wonder if there was not another factor at work. speirs was not the only man who had a chance to shoot the coward. grant had an opportunity in the initial encounter. the man who found the i company drunk could have shot him on the spot, and nearly every man in the company interviewed by me said he wished it had been done. but many of them were at company hq when he was brought in, wearing pistols, but only one of them actually tried to kill the man, and he was being held back by four others.
almost every man in that room had killed. their blood was up. their anger was deep and cold. but what stands out in the incident is not the pistol whipping and beatings, but the restraint. they had had enough of killing.
shortly after the incident, captain speirs wrote a long letter to sgt. forrest guth, who was in hospital in england and who had written speirs expressing a fear that he would be transferred to another division. speirs liked guth, thought he was a good soldier, and was appreciative of his ability to keep all his weapons in prime condition. he especially appreciated the way guth could take a file and work on the tripper housing of an m-l and make it fully automatic. (winters got one of those guth specials. he kept it and, when he set off for the korean war, took it with him. unfortunately, guth cannot remember today how he did it.)
in his reply, speirs expressed another side of himself. it was a long chatty letter about the doings of e company since guth went to the hospital, full of the kind of information guth most wanted to hear: "luz fell off a motorcycle and hurt his arm— not seriously, sgt. talbert didn't like being 1st sergeant so i gave him the 2nd platoon and sgt. lynch (2nd plat.) is 1st sgt. now. sgt. alley got drunk again and we had to bust him. lt. lipton is on furlough in scotland and is very happy. i'm sweating out a furlough to england to see my wife and baby. sgt. powers was on his way home and the truck overturned and he fractured his skull and he is hospitalized. sgt. strohl (3rd plat.) is on his way home to the states. chuck grant got in the way of a bullet from a drunk american and his head is not too good—he is in a german hospital near here and is getting better. sgt. malarkey just came back from a long stretch in the hospital. sgt. rhinehard just came from the riviera. mcgrath won't take a furlough—he is saving his money."
speirs gave guth the details on the bronze star he was entitled to for participation in normandy, holland, and belgium, and promised to inform him as soon as it came through. he added a post: "clark is armorer artificer just now—sent burlingame back to his platoon—he couldn't keep your kraut generator going! we have regular electricity and hot water here in austria.
"by the way, you can wear your 'presidential unit citation' ribbon and an oak leaf cluster on it no matter what outfit you are in—you earned it with the 101 a/b."
the company was breaking up. general taylor ordered all high point men who had not yet been rotated home to be transferred to the 501, stationed in berchtesgaden. the 501st was being inactivated and was to serve as a vehicle to transport all high-point men from the division back to the united states for discharge. others from the old company were in hospital or already discharged. recruits who had joined up in mourmelon or haguenau were now regarded as veterans.
general taylor made a trip to the states,- when he returned toward the end of june, he announced that the 101st was to be redeployed to the pacific, after a winter furlough in the states. meanwhile the war department insisted that the division undergo a full training regime, a critical process if it was to go into combat again, as more than three-quarters of the division was made up of recruits.
so close-order drill and calisthenics became the order of the day again, along with nomenclature of the m-l, nomenclature and functioning of the bar, and nomenclature and functioning of the carbine. a road march. arm and hand signals. squad tactics. barracks inspection. mess kit inspection. military courtesy and discipline. first aid and sanitation. clothing check. map reading. dry run with the rifle. one solid week of triangulation. firing on the range. "thus it went," webster wrote, "and i with it, in mounting disgust."
lieutenant peacock returned, more chickenshit than ever. "we suffered his excesses of training to such a degree," webster wrote, "that the men who had known him in holland and bastogne hated even to look at him. i was so mad and exasperated that, if i had possessed fewer than 85 points, i would have volunteered to go straight to japan and fight, rather than put up with another day's basic under peacock."
by the middle of july every veteran of normandy was gone, except the long-suffering webster, who still could not get the adjutant to accept his point total. colonel sink had given the high-point men a farewell speech: "it is with mingled feelings that your regimental commander observes the departure of you fine officers and men. he is happy for each of you. you have worked and fought and won the right to return to your homes and to your friends.
"i am sorry to see you go, because you are friends and comrades-at-arms.
"most of you have caught hell at one time or another from me. i hope you considered it just hell and fair. it was never intended to be otherwise.
"i told you people to get those presidential citations and you did it. it will forever be to your credit and honor.
"then god speed you on your way: may the same fellow who led you by the hand in normandy, holland, bastogne, and germany look kindly upon you and guard you until the last great jump!"
at the end of july, the division was transferred by 40-and-8s to france. e company went into barracks in joigny, a small town south of paris. winters, speirs, foley, and others took furloughs in england. on august 6 the atomic bomb was dropped on hiroshima, laying to rest the fears of another campaign in the pacific. after that, everything in the airborne was in flux, with low-point men being transferred into the 17th airborne, others into the 82nd. the 101st magazine, the screaming eagle, complained, "the outfit seems more like a repple-depple than a combat division."1
1. rapport and northwood, rendezvous with destiny, 775.

on august 11, colonel sink was promoted to assistant division commander. on august 22 general taylor left the 101st, or what was left of it, to become superintendent at west point. shortly thereafter, the 506th packed up and moved out, to join the 82nd airborne in berlin. it was said that colonel sink cried when his boys marched to the joigny depot for shipment to the 82nd. webster thought it fitting that he do so, as he was "the heart and soul of our regiment." writing in 1946, webster went on: "our beautiful dark-blue silk regimental flag with mount currahee, the bolt of lightning, and the six parachutes embroidered on it is rolled in its case, gathering dust in the national archives in washington."
on november 30, 1945, the 101st was inactivated. easy company no longer existed.
the company had been born in july 1942 at toccoa. its existence essentially came to an end almost exactly three years later in zell am see, austria. in those three years the men had seen more, endured more, and contributed more than most men can see, endure, or contribute in a lifetime.
they thought the army was boring, unfeeling, and chicken and hated it. they found combat to be ugliness, destruction, and death, and hated it. anything was better than the blood and carnage, the grime and filth, the impossible demands made on the —anything, that is, except letting down their buddies.
they also found in combat the closest brotherhood they ever knew. they found selflessness. they found they could love the other guy in their foxhole more than themselves. they found that in war, men who loved life would give their lives for them.
they had had three remarkable men as company commanders, herbert sobel, richard winters, and ronald speirs. each had made his own impact but winters, who had been associated with the company from day 1 to day 1,095, had made the deepest impression. in the view of those who served in easy company, it was dick winters' company.
the noncoms especially felt that way. the ones who served as corporals and sergeants in combat had been privates in toccoa. they had spent their entire three years in e company. officers, except winters, came and went. many of the officers continued their association with e company as members of the battalion or regimental staff, but only winters and the noncoms were present and accounted for (or in hospital) every day of the company's existence. they held together, most of all in those awful shellings in the woods of bastogne and at that critical moment in the attack on foy before speirs replaced dike. the acknowledged leaders of the noncoms, on paper and in fact, were the 1st sergeants, william evans, james diel, carwood lipton, and floyd talbert.
sergeant talbert was in the hospital at fort benjamin harrison, indiana, on september 30, 1945. he wrote a letter to winters. he was no webster as a writer, but he wrote from the heart and he spoke for every man who ever served in easy company.
he said he wished they could get together to talk, as there were a lot of things he wanted to tell winters. "the first thing i will try to explain is ... dick, you are loved and will never be forgotten by any soldier that ever served under you or i should say with you because that is the way you led. you are to me the greatest soldier i could ever hope to meet.
"a man can get something from war that is impossible to acquire anyplace else. i always seemed to strengthen my self-confidence or something. i don't know why i'm telling you this. you know all that.
"well i will cut this off for now. you are the best friend i ever had and i only wish we could have been on a different basis. you were my ideal, and motor in combat. the little major we both know summed you up in two words, 'the most brave and courageous soldier he ever knew.' and i respected his judgment very much. he was a great soldier too, and i informed him you were the greatest. well you know now why i would follow you into hell. when i was with you i knew everything was absolutely under control."

yuemuping

winters felt as strongly about the men as they did about him. in 1991 he summed up his company's history and its meaning: "the 101st airborne was made up of hundreds of good, solid companies. however, e co., 506 p.i.r. stands out among all of them through that very special bond that brings men together.
"that extra special, elite, close feeling started under the stress capt. sobel created at camp toccoa. under that stress, the only way the men could survive was to bond together. eventually, the non-coms had to bond together in a mutiny.
"the stress in training was followed by the stress in normandy of drawing the key combat mission for gaining control of utah beach. in combat your reward for a good job done is that you get the next tough mission. e company kept right on getting the job done through holland—bastogne—germany.
"the result of sharing all that stress throughout training and combat has created a bond between the men of e company that will last forever."

19 postwar careers
*
1945-1991
forty-eight members of easy company had given their lives for their country. more than 100 had been wounded, many of them severely, some twice, a few three times, one four times. most had suffered stress, often severe. all had given what they regarded as the best years of their lives to the war. they were trained killers, accustomed to carnage and quick, violent reactions. few of them had any college education before the war,- the only skill most of them possessed was that of combat infantryman.
they came out determined to make up for lost time. they rushed to college, using the g.i. bill of rights, universally praised by the veterans as the best piece of legislation the united states government ever conceived. they got married and had kids as quickly as possible. then they set out to build a life for themselves.
they were remarkably successful, primarily because of their own determination, ambition, and hard work, partly thanks to what they had taken from their army experience that was positive. in the army they had learned self-confidence, self-discipline, and obedience, that they could endure more than they had ever thought possible, that they could work with other people as part of a team. they had volunteered for the paratroopers because they had wanted to be with the best and to be the best that they could be. they had succeeded. they wanted nothing less from civilian life, and there too they succeeded.
they had a character like a rock, these members of the generation born between 1910 and 1928. they were the children of the depression, fighters in the greatest war in history, builders of and participants in the postwar boom. they accepted a hand-up in the g.i. bill, but they never took a handout. they made their own way. a few of them became rich, a few became powerful, almost all of them built their houses and did their jobs and raised their families and lived good lives, taking full advantage of the freedom they had helped to preserve.
it seems appropriate to start with the severely wounded. cpl. walter gordon had been shot in the back at bastogne and paralyzed. after six weeks in hospital in england, lying helplessly in his crutchfield tongs, he began to have some feelings in his extremities. he had been helped by dr. stadium, who would stand at the foot of his bed and provoke him: "you're nothing but a damned goldbrick, gordon." gordon would stiffen, snap back, get angry. because stadium would not give up on him, gordon says, "it never occurred to me that i could be a hopeless cripple."
when the tongs came off, stadium got him to walking, or at least shuffling. in the spring of 1945, gordon was listed as "walking wounded" and sent by hospital ship back to the states, where he slowly recuperated in lawson general hospital in atlanta. he was there when the war in europe ended. he walked with pain in the back, he sat with pain in the back, he slept with it. any physical work was far beyond his capabilities; he was obviously of no further use to the army. by the middle of june, his father was demanding to know when he would be discharged. "i don't know," was all gordon could reply.
on june 16, gordon had an examination. the young doctor then told him he was being transferred to fort benning, listed as fit for limited duty. so far as gordon could make out, his reason was: "nerve wounds are slow to heal, and to discharge a veteran with my degree of disability would justify a substantial award of compensation. by retaining me for additional months, my condition would no doubt improve."
gordon called his father to give him the news. his father went into a tirade. "he pointed out to me that i had been wounded twice, and was now, in his words, a cripple. he felt that i had done my fair share and the time had come for me to return home."
then he gave his son an order to pass along a message to the army doctor.
gordon did as told, although with some embarrassment. he began by running on about how this was a message from his father and that he disavowed any connection with it.
"get on with it!" the doctor barked, indicating how busy he was.
"my father says to tell you that if i am sent to any location other than home, he will come fetch me and fly me to washington, d.c., and, if necessary, strip me to the waist on the floor of the senate."
the doc's face fell. gordon thought it read, "oh my god, that's all i need is a mississippi senator on my case. that's a ticket to the pacific. get him out of here."
aloud he said, "o.k., immediate discharge with full disability." he saw to it that gordon got a new uniform, took him to the dentist to have his teeth filled, and got him paid off.
gordon went to law school at cumberland university, lebanon, tennessee. with his 100 percent disability bringing in $200 a month, plus his g.i. bill benefits, "i was a rich student." a good one, too. he passed the mississippi bar even before finishing his law degree, "so i was a licensed attorney still going to school." after graduation, he worked for several major companies in the oil business in south louisiana. in 1951 he met betty ludeau in acapulco, mexico, on a vacation. they married a year later, moved to lafayette, louisiana, and began what became a family of five children, four of them girls. "i realized that i did not have sufficient salary to support betty in the manner in which she required," gordon relates, "so i became an independent."
he went into a high-risk business, buying and selling oil leases, speculating on futures. he was successful at it. the gordons today have a home in lafayette and apartments in pass christian, mississippi, new orleans, and acapulco. he still has pain, walks with some difficulty, but the gordons are blessed with wonderful children and grandchildren, they are still in love, they love to tell jokes on themselves, it's been a good life.
"and so what did the army mean to you?" i asked at the end of our three days of interviewing.
"the most significant three years of my life," gordon replied. "it had the most awesome effect. i developed friendships which to this day are the most significant that i have. i'm most incredibly lucky that i got through it and even more fortunate that i was with this group of outstanding men."
in december, 1991, gordon saw a story in the gulfport sun herald. it related that mayor jan ritsema of eindhoven, holland, had refused to meet general h. norman schwarzkopf, because the commander of the un forces in the gulf war had "too much blood on his hands." ritsema said of schwarzkopf, "he is the person who devised the most efficient way possible to kill as many people as possible."

yuemuping

gordon wrote to mayor ritsema: "on september 17, 1944 i participated in the large airborne operation which was conducted to liberate your country. as a member of company e, 506th pir, i landed near the small town of son. the following day we moved south and liberated eindhoven. while carrying out our assignment, we suffered casualties. that is war talk for bleeding. we occupied various defense positions for over two months. like animals, we lived in holes, barns, and as best we could. the weather was cold and wet. in spite of the adverse conditions, we held the ground we had fought so hard to capture.
"the citizens of holland at that time did not share your aversion to bloodshed when the blood being shed was that of the german occupiers of your city. how soon we forget. history has proven more than once that holland could again be conquered if your neighbor, the germans, are having a dull weekend and the golf links are crowded.
"please don't allow your country to be swallowed up by liechtenstein or the vatican as i don't plan to return. as of now, you are on your own."
sgt. joe toye describes his experiences: "after being hit (my fourth purple heart) at bastogne, i went through a series of operations. the main operation being the amputation of my right leg above the knee. then, later, i had two more operations, these were to remove shrapnel from my upper chest cavity—to remove them the surgeon went in through my back.
"i was married dec. 15, 1945, while still in the hospital at atlantic city. i was discharged from the army feb. 8, 1946."
he was given an 80 percent disability. before the war he had been a molder in a foundry, but with a wooden leg he couldn't do the work. he found employment in a textile mill in reading, pennsylvania, then worked twenty years for bethlehem steel as a bit grinder.
he has three sons and a daughter. "i used to take the boys hunting, fishing, but i never carried a gun—i was worried about tripping. this artificial leg, if something stops it, you're gone, you know. so i never carried a gun. but i took them out deer hunting and fishing. every year i went camping in canada with them."
there have been big improvements in artificial legs since 1946. toye feels the doctors at the va hospitals have treated him well and kept him up to date with the latest equipment. he does have one complaint. he wants two legs, one slightly larger where it joins the stump. but because the docs say one is enough, "i don't dare gain or lose any weight, else the dam thing won't fit."
sgt. bill guarnere also lost his leg, above the knee, in bastogne. after discharge in the summer of 1945, he was given an 80 percent disability. he married, had a child, and went to work as a printer, salesman, va clerk, arid carpenter, all with an artificial leg. there were some mix-ups in his records, which cost him money and led to much dispute with the va. in 1967 he finally got full disability and was able to retire. he threw away his artificial leg, and for the past twenty-four years he has moved on crutches. he moves faster than most younger men with two good legs. he lives in south philly, where he grew up, with his wife fran. they have five children; the oldest son was an airborne trooper in vietnam. he is very active in the 101st association and in getting e company men together.
sgt. chuck grant, shot in the brain by the drunken g.i. in austria after the war, had his life saved by a german doctor. he recovered, slowly, although he had some difficulty in speaking and was partly paralyzed in his left arm. after his medical discharge with full disability, he lived in san francisco, where he ran a small cigar store. over the years he regularly attended e company reunions and was active in the 101st association. mike ranney nominated him to be the 506th representative on the board of the 101st association; he was elected and served with great pride. he died in 1984.
lt. fred "moose" heyliger, shot twice by his own man in holland, was flown to a hospital in glasgow, then shipped on the queen elizabeth to new york. over the next two-and-a-half years he was moved three more times. he underwent skin and nerve grafts before discharge in february 1947. taking advantage of the g.i. bill, he went to the university of massachusetts, where he graduated in 1950 with a degree in ornamental horticulture. for the next forty years he worked for various landscape companies and on golf courses as a consultant and supplier. he has two sons and a daughter and continues his hobbies, arrowhead hunting, bird watching, and camping.
sgt. leo boyle was discharged on june 22, 1945, after nine months in hospitals in belgium, england, and the states. he was given a 30 percent disability. he got a job as a railroad brakeman, but his legs could not stand up to the strain. then he worked in the post office, sorting mail, but again his legs gave out. "by that time i was so ill and confused that i checked into the va hospital. after several days, a team of three medical doctors declared that i was 50 percent disabled and released me with no career guidance."
boyle used his g.i. bill benefits to go to the university of oregon, where he majored in political science and earned an m.a. degree, with honors. he went into high school teaching and eventually into working with the educationally handicapped. "it was a career that was exceptionally rewarding. there is always a warm and good feeling between the handicapped and their teacher." when he retired in 1979, he was awarded the phi delta kappa service key for leadership and research in education for the handicapped.
two other members of the company, the last 1st sergeant and the original company commander, were also victims of the war. sgt. floyd talbert had wounds and scars, which he handled without difficulty, and memories, which overwhelmed him. he became a drifter and a drinker. he made a living of sorts as a fisherman, hunter, trapper, and guide in northern california. he had a series of heart attacks.
talbert was one of the few members of the company who just dropped out of sight. in 1980 gordon enlisted the aid of his congressman and of george luz's son steve, to locate talbert. sgt. mike ranney joined the search. eventually they located him in redding, california, and persuaded him to attend the 1981 company reunion in san diego.
ranney passed around his address. winters and others wrote him. in his three-page handwritten reply to winters, talbert reminisced about their experiences. "do you remember the time you were leading us into carentan? seeing you in the middle of that road wanting to move was too much! . . . do you recall when we were pulling back in holland? lt. peacock threw his carbine onto the road. he would not move. honest to god i told him to retrieve the carbine and move or i would shoot him. he did as i directed. i liked him, he was a sincere and by the book officer, but not a soldier. as long as he let me handle the men he and i got along alright.
"dick this can go on and on. i have never discussed these things with anyone on this earth. the things we had are damn near sacred to me." he signed off, "your devoted soldier forever."
talbert had enclosed a recent photograph. he looked like a mountain man. in his reply, winters told him to shave off the beard and get his hair cut if he intended to come to san diego. he did, but he still showed up wearing tattered hunting clothes. the first morning, gordon and don moone took him to a men's store and bought him new clothes. before the year was out, he died.
gordon wrote his epitaph. "almost all of the men of company e suffered wounds of various severity. some of us limp, some have impaired vision or hearing, but almost without exception we have modified our lives to accommodate the injury. tab continued in daily conflict with a demon within his breast. he paid a dear price for his service to his country. he could not have given more without laying down his life."
dick winters paid him an ultimate tribute: "if i had to pick out just one man to be with me on a mission in combat, it would be talbert."
capt. herbert sobel had no physical wounds, but deep mental ones. he also disappeared from sight. he married, had two sons, got a divorce, and was estranged from his children. he worked as an accountant for an appliance company in chicago. maj. clarence hester was in chicago on business one day in the early 1960s. he arranged for a lunch together. he found sobel to be bitter toward e company and life generally. twenty years later guarnere tried to locate sobel. he finally found his sister, who told him sobel was in bad mental condition and that he directed his rage at the men of e company. guarnere nevertheless paid sobel's dues to the 101st association, hoping to get him involved in that organization, but nothing happened. shortly thereafter captain sobel shot himself. he botched it. eventually he died in september 1988. his funeral was a sad affair. his ex-wife did not come to it, nor did his sons, nor did any member of e company.
sgt. skinny sisk also had a hard time shaking his war memories. in july 1991, he wrote winters to explain. "my career after the war was trying to drink away the truckload of krauts that i stopped in holland and the die-hard nazi that i went up into the bavarian alps and killed. old moe alley made a statement that all the killings that i did was going to jump into the bed with me one of these days and they surely did. i had a lot of flash backs after the war and i started drinking. ha! ha!
"then my sister's little daughter, four-years-old, came into my bedroom (i was too unbearable to the rest of the family, either hung over or drunk) and she told me that jesus loved me and she loved me and if i would repent god would forgive me for all the men i kept trying to kill all over again.
"that little girl got to me. i put her out of my room, told her to go to her mommy. there and then i bowed my head on my mother's old feather bed and repented and god forgave me for the war and all the other bad things i had done down through the years. i was ordained in the latter part of 1949 into the ministry and believe me, dick, i haven't whipped but one man since and he needed it. i have four children, nine grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.
"the lord willing and jesus tarrys i hope to see you all at the next reunion. if not i'll see you on the last jump. i know you won't freeze in the door."
easy company's contribution to the nation's defense did not end with the company's demise. a number stayed in the army. lt.s. h. matheson, an original company officer who had quickly moved up to regimental staff, became a two-star general and commander of the 101st. bob brewer made colonel, spending much of his time working for the central intelligence agency (cia) in the far east. ed shames made colonel in the reserves.
sgt. clarence lyall made a career out of the paratroopers. he made two combat jumps in korea and in 1954 was assigned to the 29th french parachute regiment as an adviser. the 29th was at dien bien phu. lyall got out two weeks before the garrison surrendered. he is one of a small number who have made four combat jumps; surely he is unique in having been a participant in both the battle of the bulge and the siege of dien bien phu.
sgt. robert "burr" smith also stayed in the paratroopers, where he got a commission and eventually became a lieutenant colonel. he commanded a special forces reserve unit in san francisco. in december 1979, he wrote to winters: "eventually my reserve assignment led me to a new career with a government agency, which in turn led to eight years in laos as a civilian advisor to a large irregular force. i continued to jump regularly until 1974, when lack of interest drove me to hang gliding, and that has been my consuming passion ever since. . . . for the present i am assigned as a special assistant to the commander of delta force, the counter-terror task force at fort bragg. my specialties are (surprise! surprise!): airborne operations, light weapons, and small unit operations.

yuemuping

"my office is on buckner road, right across the street from where we were just before leaving for england. the old buildings are exactly as you last saw them and are still in daily use. . . .
"funny thing about 'the modern army,' dick. i am assigned to what is reputed to be the best unit in the u.s. army, the delta force, and i believe that it is. still, on a man-for-man basis, i'd choose my wartime paratroop company any time! we had something there for three years that will never be equalled."
he was scheduled to go on the mission to iran to rescue the hostages in 1980, but when the cia learned this, it forbade him to go because he knew so many secrets. "so, i missed what certainly would have been the last adventure in my life," he wrote winters. "i had lived, worked and trained with delta every day for nearly two years, dick, and i hated to be left behind."
that got smith going on leadership. he wrote of winters, "you were blessed (some would say rewarded) with the uniform respect and admiration of 120 soldiers, essentially civilians in uniform, who would have followed you to certain death. i've been a soldier most of my adult life. in that time i've met only a handful of great soldiers, and of that handful only half or less come from my wwii experience, and two of them came from op easy—you and bill guarnere. the rest of us were o.k. . . . good soldiers by-and-large, and a few were better than average, but i know as much about 'grace under pressure' as most men, and a lot more about it than some. you had it."
in 1980, riding an experimental hang-glider, smith crashed and suffered severe injuries. in operating on his lungs, the doctors discovered a cancer. rader, who had pulled smith out of a flooded field on june 6, 1944, visited him in the hospital. they played a name game—one would call out the name of a toccoa man, the other would supply a brief word portrait. shortly thereafter, smith died.
sgt. amos "buck" taylor spent a quarter-century with the cia, working in the far east division of the covert operation directorate, sometimes in washington, often overseas. he won't say much about what he did, except that "the big threat to our country in that part of the world was communist china and of course the ussr. that will give you some idea of the focus of my work. so much for that."
when captain speirs got back to england in the summer of 1945, he discovered that the english "widow" he had married, and who had borne his son, wasn't a widow at all. her husband reappeared from a p.o.w. camp. she chose him over speirs, and the couple kept all the loot speirs had shipped back from europe. he decided to stay in the army. he made a combat jump in korea and commanded a rifle company on the line in that war. in 1956 he attended a russian language course in monterey, california, and then was assigned to potsdam, east germany, as liaison officer with the soviet army. in 1958 he became the american governor of spandau prison, berlin, where rudolf hess was serving his life term. in 1962 he went to laos with the u.s. mission to the royal lao army.
when old e company men call him today and open the conversation by saying, "you won't remember me, but we were together during the war," speirs replies, "which war?" his son robert, born in england during the war, is an infantry major in the king's royal rifle corps, the "green jackets," and speirs's "pride and joy."
david webster could not understand how anyone could stay in the army. he wanted to be a writer. he moved to california and paid his bills with a variety of odd jobs as he wrote and submitted articles and a book on his wartime experiences. he placed many of the articles, the top being in the saturday evening post, but he could not find a publisher for his book. he became a reporter, first with the los angeles daily news, then with the wall street journal. in 1951 he married barbara stoessel, an artist and sister of walter j. stoessel, jr., who became u.s. ambassador to poland, the soviet union, and west germany.
webster had always been fascinated by sharks. barbara writes, "the shark, for him, became a symbol of everything that is mysterious and fierce about the sea. he began gathering material for a book of his own. his research went on for years. he studied sharks first-hand, underwater, swimming among them; and caught many, fishing with a handline from his 11-foot sailing dinghy which he had named tusitala, which means teller of tales.' " he wrote the book and submitted it twenty-nine times, but could not convince a publisher that anyone wanted to read about sharks.
on september 9, 1961, webster set sail from santa monica with squid bait, a heavy line, and hook for shark fishing. he never came back. a search the next day discovered the tusitala awash 5 miles offshore. one oar and the tiller were missing. his was never found.
barbara was able to get his book on sharks published (myth and maneater, w. w. norton &. co., 1963). there was a british edition and a paperback edition in australia. when jaws was released in 1975, dell issued a mass-market paperback.
three of the sergeants became rich men. john martin attended ohio state university on his g.i. bill money, then returned to his railroad job. he became a supervisor, had a car, secretary, and pension building and was making money on the side by building houses on speculation. in 1961 he gave it all up and, over the intense protest of his wife and children, then in high school, moved to phoenix, arizona, and started building homes. he had $8,000 in total capital, and everyone thought he was crazy. at the end of the first year, he paid more in taxes than he had ever made working for the railroad. soon he was building apartment complexes and nursing homes. he expanded his activities into texas and montana. in 1970 he bought a cattle ranch in the mountains of western montana. today he is a multimillionaire. he still likes to take risks, although he no longer jumps out of airplanes. he has resisted tempting offers to sell his business; the president of martin construction today is john martin, while his wife patricia is the vice president and treasurer. they are also the directors and sole stockholders.
don moone used his g.i. bill benefits to attend grinnell college, then went into advertising. he rose rapidly. in 1973 he became the president of ketchum, macleod & grove, inc., a major new york city advertising firm. four years later, at age fifty-one, he retired, built a home in florida, and has lived there since in some splendor.
carwood lipton majored in engineering at marshall college (now university), while his wife jo anne was bearing three sons. lipton went to work for owens-illinois, inc. he rose steadily in the firm; in 1971 he moved to london as director of manufacturing for eight glass factories in england and scotland. in 1974 he went to geneva, switzerland, in charge of operations in europe, the middle east, and africa. in 1975 jo anne died of a heart attack. the next year, lipton married a widow, marie hope ma-honey, whose husband had been a close friend of lipton's, just as marie was a close friend of jo anne's. at the request of the ceo of united glass, ltd.; he wrote a pamphlet, leading people. it was a subject he knew well.
lipton retired in 1983. he writes, "currently living in comfortable retirement in southern pines, north carolina, where i had decided when we were training in camp mackall that i would someday live. my hobbies are much travel throughout the world, golf, model engineering, woodworking, and reading."
lewis nixon had always been rich. he took over his father's far-flung industrial and agricultural empire and ran it while traveling around the world. his chief hobby today is reading.
lt. buck compton stayed in public service jobs, so he became more famous than rich. he was a detective in the los angeles police department from 1947 to 1951, then spent twenty years as a prosecutor for the district attorney's office, eventually becoming chief deputy district attorney. in 1968 he directed the investigation of sirhan sirhan, then conducted the prosecution. in 1970 gov. ronald reagan appointed him to the california court of appeals as an associate justice. he and his wife donna have two daughters, one granddaughter. his reputation is that he remains the best athlete in the company; he is said to play a mean game of golf.
sgt. mike ranney took a journalism degree at the university of north dakota, then had a successful career as a reporter, newspaper editor, and public relations consultant. he and his wife julia had five daughters, seven grandsons. in 1980 he began publishing what he called "the spasmodic newsletter of easy company." some samples:
march 1982: "the pennsylvania contingent got together at dick winters' place for a surprise party for harry welsh. fenstermaker, strohl, guarnere, guth had a great time."
1980. "the reunion this summer in nashville is shaping up as one of the great turnouts in e company history. a partial list of the attendees—dick winters, harry welsh, moose heyliger and buck compton from the officers; chuck grant, paul rogers, walter scott gordon; tipper, guarnere, rader, heffron, ranney, johnny martin, george luz, perconte, jim alley, and no less a personage than burr smith."
1983. "don moone retired from the advertising business and now lives it up down in florida. he and gordon and carwood lipton had a reunion in new orleans."
with only a couple of exceptions, these men had no business or professional connections. none lived in the same town, few in the same state (except pennsylvania). yet they stayed in touch. in january 1981, moone wrote winters to thank him for a christmas present and to fill him in: "it was great news that talbert was finally located. i called him immediately and after an exchange of insults, we talked. i've always been fond of tab. he took great care of me in the old days. on new year's day at 6:00 a.m. my time, tab called to wish me a good new year. he was bombed but coherent. he admits that he had a bottle problem, as we suspected, but was 'on the wagon' except for special occasions. guess new year's eve was one of those 'specials.'
"don malarkey called me at 3:00 a.m. on new years eve morning and he too was well on his way."
ranney retired to write poetry and his memoirs, but in september 1988 he died before he could get started.
beyond heyliger, martin, guarnere, and toye, a number of men went into some form of building, construction, or making things. capt. clarence hester became a roofing contractor in sacramento, california. sgt. robert "popeye" wynn became a structural ironworker on buildings and bridges. pvt. john plesha worked for the washington state highway department. sgt. denver "bull" randleman was a superintendent for a heavy construction contractor in louisiana. sgt. walter hendrix spent forty-five years in the polishing trade, working with granite. sgt. burton "pat" christenson spent thirty-eight years with the pacific telephone and telegraph company, installing new lines, eventually becoming a supervisor and teacher. sgt. jim alley was a carpenter, then worked on high-dam construction on the washington state-canada border. eventually he had his own construction company in california.
beyond leo boyle, a number of men went into teaching. after a twenty-year hitch in the army, sgt. leo hashey taught water safety for the portland, oregon, red cross. he became director of health and safety education. sgt. robert rader taught the handicapped at paso robles high school in california for more than thirty years. capt. harry welsh got married immediately upon his return to the states, with his bride kitty grogan wearing a dress made from the reserve chute he wore on d-day and carried with him through the rest of the war. he went to college, taught, earned an m.a., and became a high school counselor, then administrator. sgt. forrest guth taught printing, wood shop, electricity, electronics, and managed the sound and staging of school productions in norfolk, virginia, and wilmington, delaware, until his retirement. pvt. ralph stafford writes: "graduated in 1953 and started teaching the 6th grade in fort worth. taught for three years and was elementary principal for 27 years, and dearly loved it. it was truly my calling. i was elected president of district v, texas state teachers association (dallas-ft. worth, 20,000 members).

yuemuping

"in 1950, i went bird hunting with some guys from the fire department. i shot a bird and was remorseful as i looked down at it, the bird had done me no harm and couldn't have. i went to the truck and stayed until the others returned, never to hunt again."
sgt. ed tipper went to the university of michigan for a b.a., then to colorado state for an m.a. he taught high school in the denver suburbs for almost thirty years. after retirement, he writes, "i went to costa rica to visit one of my former students. there i met rosy, 34 years old. after an old-time courtship of about a year, we married in the face of great opposition from most everyone i knew, dick winters excluded. it was hard to disagree, especially with the argument that marriage to a 61 year old man probably meant sacrificing any hope of having a family, a major consideration for latin women. our daughter kerry was born almost ten months to the day after our wedding. rosy went to medical school in guadalajara and in 1989 got her m.d."
he has recently been operated on for cancer. "my wife, daughter and i have just moved into a new house. it may seem strange for a seventy-year-old to be buying a house, but our family motto is, 'it's never too late.' "
sgt. rod bain graduated from western washington college (now university) in 1950, married that year, had four children, and spent twenty-five years as a teacher and administrator in anchorage, alaska. he spends his summers "as a drift gillnetter, chasing the elusive sockeye salmon."
ed tipper sums it up with a question: "is it accidental that so many ex-paratroopers from e company became teachers! perhaps for some men a period of violence and destruction at one time attracts them to look for something creative as a balance in another part of life. we seem also to have a disproportionate number of builders of houses and other things in the group we see at reunions."
pvt. bradford freeman went back to the farm. in 1990 winters wrote him, saying that he often came south to see walter gordon and would like to stop by sometime to see freeman's farm. freeman replied: "it would be a great honor for you to come to see us in mississippi. we have a good shade to sit in in the summer and have a good heater for winter. about all that i do is garden and cut hay for cows in summer and feed in winter. fish and hunt the rest of the time. we have the tombigbee water way close and i watch the barges go up and down the river. sending you a picture of the house and cows. i have a good place on the front porch to sit. here's hoping that you will come down sometime."
winters did. they had a good visit. he asked freeman to write an account of what he did after the war, for this book. freeman concluded: "what i wrote don't look like much but i have had a real good time and wouldn't trade with no one."
maj. richard winters also wrote an account of his life after the war: "on separation from the service on november 29, 1945, lewis nixon invited me to come to new york city and meet his parents. his father offered me a job and i became personnel manager for the nixon nitration works, nixon, new jersey. while working, i took advantage of the g.i. bill and took courses in business and personnel management at rutgers university. in 1950 i was promoted to general manager of nixon nitration works.
"i married ethel estoppey in 1948. we have two children. tim has an m.a. in english from penn state and jill a b.a. from albright college.
"i was recalled to the army for the korean war. at fort dix, new jersey, i was put on the staff as regimental plans and training officer. after discharge, i returned to pennsylvania, to farm and to sell animal health products and vitamin premixes to the feed companies. in 1951 i bought a farm along the foothills of the blue mountain—seven miles east of indiantown gap. that's where i find that peace and quiet that i promised myself on d-day."
this is typical winters understatement. he lives modestly, on his farm and in a small town house in hershey, but he is a wealthy man who achieved success by creating and marketing a new, revolutionary cattle food and other animal food products.
he is also the gentlest of men. in july 1990, when he finished telling me about practically wiping out an entire german rifle company on the dike in holland on october 5, 1944, we went for a walk down to his pond. a flock of perhaps thirty canadian geese took off; one goose stayed behind, honking plaintively at the others. winters explained that the bird had a broken wing.
i remarked that he ought to get out a rifle and shoot the goose before a fox got her. "freeze her up for thanksgiving dinner."
he gave me an astonished glance. "i couldn't do that!" he said, horrified at the thought.
he is incapable of a violent action, he never raises his voice, he is contemptuous of exaggeration, self-puffery, or posturing. he has achieved exactly what he wanted in life, that peace and quiet he promised himself as he lay down to catch some sleep on the night of june 6-7, 1944, and the continuing love and respect of the men he commanded in easy company in world war ii.
in one of his last newsletters, mike ranney wrote: "in thinking back on the days of easy company, i'm treasuring my remark to a grandson who asked, 'grandpa, were you a hero in the war?' " 'no,' i answered, 'but i served in a company of heroes.' "

yuemuping

acknowledgments and sources
in the fall of 1988, the veterans from easy company, 506th parachute infantry regiment, 101st airborne division, held a reunion in new orleans. along with my assistant director of the eisenhower center at the university of new orleans, ron drez, i went to their hotel to tape-record a group interview with them about their d-day experience, as a part of the center's d-day project of collecting oral histories from the men of d-day. the interview with easy company was especially good because the company had carried out a daring and successful attack on a german battery near utah beach.
when maj. richard winters, an original member of the company, later company c.o., finally c.o. of 2nd battalion, read the tran from the interview, he was upset by some inaccurate and exaggerated statements in it. he wanted to set the record straight. in february 1990, winters, forrest guth, and carwood lipton came to pass christian, mississippi, to visit walter gordon. i live in the village of bay st. louis, across the bay from pass christian, so gordon is my neighbor. he called to ask if the easy company veterans could do a follow-up interview. of course, i said, and invited them to our home for a meeting and dinner. we spent the afternoon in my office, maps spread out, tape-recorder running. later, at a roast beef feast prepared by my wife, moira, the men sketched out for me their experiences after d-day in normandy, holland, belgium, germany, and austria.
they had all read my book pegasus bridge, which the eisenhower center gives to every veteran who does an interview for us. winters suggested that a history of easy company might make a good subject for a book.
at that time i was working on the third and final volume of a biography of richard nixon. winters' idea appealed to me for a number of reasons. when i finished nixon, i wanted to go back to military history. i intended to do a book on d-day, but did not want to begin the writing until 1992 with the intention of publishing it on the 50th anniversary, june 6, 1994.1 have reached a point in my life where, if i am not doing some writing every day, i am not happy, so i was looking for a short book subject on world war ii that would have a connection with d-day.
a history of e company fit perfectly. i knew the story of the british 6th airborne division on the far left flank on d-day thanks to my research and interviewing for the pegasus bridge book. getting to know the story of one company of the 101st on the far right flank was tempting.
there was an even more appealing factor. there was a closeness among the four veterans sitting at our dinner table that was, if not quite unique in my quarter-century experience of interviewing veterans, certainly unusual. as they talked about other members of the company, about various reunions over the decades, it became obvious that they continued to be a band of brothers. although they were scattered all across the north american continent and overseas, they knew each others' wives, children, grandchildren, each others' problems and successes. they visited regularly, kept in close contact by mail and by phone. they helped each other in emergencies and times of trouble. and the only thing they had in common was their three-year experience in world war ii, when they had been thrown together quite by chance by the u.s. army.
i became intensely curious about how this remarkable closeness had been developed. it is something that all armies everywhere throughout history strive to create but seldom do, and never better than with easy. the only way to satisfy my curiosity was to research and write the company history.
in may 1990, drez attended the company's reunion in orlando, florida, where he video-recorded eight hours of group interview. that same month i did three days of interviewing with gordon in my office. in july, i went to winters' farm in pennsylvania, where i did four days of interviewing. on the fourth day, a half-dozen men from the company living on the east coast drove to the farm for a group interview. later in 1990 i spent a weekend at carwood lipton's home in southern pines, where bill guarnere joined us. i flew to oregon to spend another weekend with don malarkey and a group of west coast residents.
i interviewed a dozen other company members over the telephone and have had an extensive correspondence with nearly all living members of the company. at my urging ten of the men have written their wartime memoirs, ranging from ten to 200 pages. i have been given copies of wartime letters, diaries, and newspaper clippings.
in november 1990, moira and i toured easy's battle sites in normandy and belgium. i interviewed frenchmen from the area the company fought over who had been living there at the time. in july 1991, we visited the scenes of easy's battles throughout europe with winters, lipton, and malarkey. winters, moira, and i spent an afternoon with baron colonel frederick von der heydte at his home near munich.
mrs. barbara embree, widow of pvt. david webster, gave me copies of his letters to his parents and his book-length manu on his world war ii memoirs. webster was a keen observer and excellent writer. his contribution was invaluable.
currahee!, the scrapbook written by lt. james morton and published by the 506th pir in 1945, was also invaluable. don malarkey gave me a copy, most generous on his part as it is a rare book. rendezvous with destiny, the history of the 101st airborne, written by leonard rapport and arthur northwood, provided the big picture plus facts, figures, details, atmosphere, and more. other sources are noted in the text.
when i wrote pegasus bridge, i decided not to show the manu to maj. john howard, the c.o. of d company, oxfordshire and buckinghamshire light infantry, or any other of the thirty british gliderborne troops i had interviewed. i was working on a deadline that made it impossible to take up the months that would have been involved. the veterans had frequently contradicted each other on small points, and very occasionally on big ones. not one of them would have accepted what i had written as entirely accurate, and i feared that, if they saw the manu, i'd be in for endless bickering over when this or that happened, or what happened, or why it happened.
i felt it was my task to make my best judgment on what was true, what had been misremembered, what had been exaggerated by the old soldiers telling their war stories, what acts of heroism had been played down by a man too modest to brag on himself.
in short, i felt that although it was their story, it was my book. john howard was unhappy at being unable to suggest changes and corrections. since the publication of pegasus bridge, he has convinced me that he was right, and i was wrong. had i had time and allowed john and others to make corrections, criticisms, and suggestions, it would have been a more accurate and better book.
so i have circulated the manu of this book to the men of easy company. i have received a great deal of criticism, corrections, and suggestions in return. winters and lipton especially have gone through it line by line. this book is, then, very much a group effort. we do not pretend that this is the full history of the company, an impossibility given the vagaries of memory and the absence of testimony from men killed in the war or since deceased. but we do feel that, through our constant checking and rechecking, our phone calls and correspondence, our visits to the battle sites, we have come as close to the true story of easy company as possible.
it has been a memorable experience for me. i was ten years old when world war ii ended. like many other american men my age, i have always admired—nay, stood in awe of—the g.i.s. i thought that what they had done was beyond praise. i still do. to get to know so well a few of them from one of the most famous divisions of all, the screaming eagles, has been a privilege. it is my proud boast that they have made me an honorary member of the company. as i am also an honorary member of d company of the ox and bucks, i've got both flanks covered. truly my cup runs over.
stephen e. ambrose eisenhowerplatz, bay st. louis october 1990-may 1991 the cabin, dunbar, wisconsin may-september 1991


in 1992, the u. s. congress authorized the building of the national d-day museum in new orleans,
on the site where the higgins boats were constructed and tested. the museum's mission is to remind the american people of the day when the fury of an aroused democracy was hurled against nazi-occupied europe, and to inspire future generations by showing that there is nothing this republic cannot do when everyone gets on the team.
in addition to hands-on displays, a photographic gallery, weapons, uniforms, and other artifacts, the museum will house an archives that will hold all printed work on d-day, plus the oral and written memoirs from participants in the battle that the eisenhower center at the university of new orleans has been gathering since 1983. this is the largest collection of eyewitness accounts of a single battle in the world.
for information on how to become a friend of the museum, or to donate artifacts, please write the eisenhower center, university of new orleans, new orleans, la, 70148.




also by stephen e. ambrose
upton and the army halleck: lincoln's chief of staff
ike's spies: eisenhower and the espionage establishment
rise to globalism: american foreign policy 1938-1970
crazy horse and custer: the parallel lives of two american warriors
eisenhower and berlin, 1945 duty, honor, country: a history of west point
the supreme commander: the war years of general dwight d. eisenhower
eisenhower:
soldier, general of the army, president-elect 1890-1952
eisenhower: the president pegasus bridge: june 6, 1944
nixon: the education of a politician 1913-1962
nixon: the triumph of a politician 1962-1972
eisenhower: soldier and president
nixon: ruin and recovery, 1973-1990

panzervi

为什么MM也会喜欢BOB呢？