My topic this week is my roommate and hero, whose permission I have, along with that of his fine family, to honor in this write-up: Donald Woods.
This man has personally fought for you and me and all Americans. He has seen people die for us. He is still tormented to this day over it. I have saw him crying telling me things and I have cried with him as he is telling it.
Donald Woods was drafted into the Army in time to invade France to liberate France from the Germans. He left here on a ship to France, then in an amphibious boat to as far as it could go before beaching. Then he jumped out with his M-1 rifle over his head to keep it dry from saltwater.
The boats were filled with as many as it would hold. Big guns were firing at him. Some boats didn’t make it to the shore. He also witnessed bodies floating around him with no legs or arms. They couldn’t stop to help. They had to take the beach. On shore they now had small-arms fire directed at them. Still there were boys falling, people hollering, “Medic, over here.”
Then came the grueling march and the fighting to get to the town of Saint-Lô,
France. Then came the day while riding in some woods to invade another town. A shell hit the trees above him. He got hit by shrapnel in his shoulder and foot, followed by agonizing time in a field hospital until he could fly to England.
Eventually he then went to Maryland for months. Then he was told he was getting a medical discharge. His buddy was told to return to the front lines. He got out with a 50 percent disability. Still he went into the Highway Patrol for 28 years. I salute you Donald Woods! We should honor him and have a Donald Woods Day. That would be great!
On the Lighter Side, Little Cupid doesn’t shoot arrows at only young folks. He has shot a few here; some harder than others. Love isn’t just for young folks. Also, my sense of humor gets me in trouble at times.
While in the Army in Berlin in 1961 while on a training exercise the weather got down to about 20 below 0 and our two-men tents didn’t keep out much cold. Our platoon’s turn came to march the mile to our tent — uphill of course and in the snow, and no time for a hot cup of coffee.
To my surprise my nice and gentle-talking sergeant had us ride in a truck. The driver then said, “Not enough room; some have to walk.” I said, “You got to be kidding me. This is the Army — one rides, we all ride.” So we all packed in like sardines.
The ground was frozen so hard it was like riding over railroad tracks. Bumpy wasn’t the word for it. Couldn’t even drink my coffee so I had one of my buddies to knock on the window and when he stopped everyone drank.
Twice I did this. I tried one more time and the truck stopped so fast the back wheels went 2 feet further than the front. The truck bowed up so much it felt like it was a camel with a hump in the middle.
My always-smiling sergeant came out of the truck with a not-so smile on his face … vile words spitting from his mouth. Even I had never heard those words. I had to cover up my wife’s picture in my front pocket so she couldn’t hear them. Then of course we all had to walk back up hill the rest of the way. I didn’t think they would make you peel potatoes for two days straight, but they did.
