Post by jeffwho on Jan 28, 2015 20:51:38 GMT -5
My father-in-law, as in my wife's step-father, from Spartanburg SC. Born and raised in Spartanburg, drafted into the US Army Air Corps and started training as a bombardier in B-17s. Cool right? Well, late in the war it was decided that more infantry were needed and he was one of those transferred. Without getting much in the way of training because the prevailing thought was the war would be "over by Christmas" by that point, off to France with the 422nd Infantry Regiment of the Golden Lions Division he went. I needn't expand much on the events of December 1944 along the border of Germany and Belgium, and cutting the story short he was cut off, surrounded, ordered to surrender (he later wrote a letter to Col. Descheneaux's grandson, expressing thanks that they were spared..) and spent many days marching in the dismal cold and riding rail cars toward captivity. He and thousands of others spent the duration of the war in Stalag IX-B near Bad Orb, Germany, until they were liberated. When he returned to the States from Camp Lucky Strike, he was a mere shell of himself: suffering from acute weight loss and tuberculosis, he faced losing a lung before agreeing to an experimental medication which forced him into solitude in the basement of his own home. He can only tell small parts of his history of that period without getting upset, but I have done extensive research on the subject and know better than to press him on that. He shaves twice every morning, uses countless towels when showering and I /know/ this is an adjustment he's reached in dealing with his PTSD. Every now and again we get a story, and I consistently feed him personal histories and books which might help broach the subject. Someday I hold out hope he will consent to a full interview. To meet him, aside from the POW tags on his car and sometimes wearing the 106th lapel pin I bought him, no one would ever know the hell this man faced and survived. It's been an honour and privilege getting to know him, and my wife and I could never reciprocate the generosity he's shown us - in taking us both in, freely dispensing valuable advice, and in the love he shows our family.
I often wonder what he thinks of me being a WWII reenactor. I have yet to successfully have him come to an event we're doing, but I have on occasion taken some things up to share with him. He offered to show me how to crack the stock of my Garand over a tree (I politely declined) and as much as I think he wanted to, he just couldn't bring himself to put on my M43 jacket with the 106th shoulder patch on. The look in his eyes spoke volumes - in a way, I think he appreciates the effort we put into preserving history, but on the other hand I think he just ... wishes I wouldn't. In September 2015, the 106th Infantry Division Association is hosting a reunion in Charleston, and I intend to be there with all the equipment the group of us can assemble in tribute to these men, most of whom were POW's. My ultimate hope is that James will make the trip to reunite with his comrades in arms.
