Le magazine de la Bataille de Normandie

July/Aug. 2006 / n°34

An american soldier told about his war day by day, from hell of Omaha to Hurtgen, in the ranks of the Big Red One

John F. Mickey was American, he was 35 in 1944 and lived in Michigan. He did enlisted in september 1943, he thought he could do some "job" in this war. When he enlisted he was not expected for that kind of life : the long separation from loved one, the horror of war, and even hunger and thirst. All along the fightings he took notes, and many years later he decided to write about sixty pages. John F. Mickey passed away in 1989. With his son's permission, his memories are told there. It is the experience of a "common" man who believed in some human valours, and who fight for them from the beaches of Normandy to the Hurtgen forest, in Germany, where he had been wounded.
(John F. Mickey's memories - 1944/1945)

Episode 25 : Coming back home
"The doctor moves from patient to patient, holding a paddle with a needle in it..." By John F. Mickey

Way home
I was moved with other casualties to a village miles away. In a building, with its roof bombed, was a doctor treating all in the basement by candle light. Hours later we were moved in the medics ambulance farther back to a field hospital. It was a large saloon, where two doctors worked on the wounded, on the top of the bar by lanterns. I watched the doctors examining a man whose shoulder was open by a mortar shell. One took a brown paper bag of sulpha powder. He filled the open wound, wrapped it in gauze, and the soldier was moved back to a hospital to have major surgery. I was given two capsules that put me to sleep. In the morning I was awaken, and given some hot coffee and a piece of bread. After that I was asked to swallow two more capsules to lie down on the floor to sleep another eight hours. The morning of third day, I was moved to a tent hospi-

tal in Belgium. I was given a bed in tent number nine. The doctor apologized for putting me in that tent, he said it was a late hour and it was the nearest vacant bed. I was told to go outside where a jeep driver had what was once hot coffee, and a turkey drum stick that was cold by the time it hit my mess kit. A heavy snow fell during the cold night. It was just past noon when we all heard this V1 bomb coming over. In tent hospital, doctors and nurses stop tending the wounded, and freeze as if in prayer until this thing passed over. It is a scary expe-rience. On 3rd December I am in the gene-ral hospital in Paris. I walked out of the

room and saw the Chief walking in a daze. He was a six feet Indian of my company, that had often gone out on a one man patrol, getting near the line of the enemy to observe their movements. Sometimes he was gone two days. I thought he was a brave rugged individual. We called him the Chief, he was from an unknown town in Wisconsin. I asked him what happened, he said he was the only survivor of his squad. He said it was a trap in the Hurtgen forest. I told him I was in the first squad sent in and one of the two that survived. I never saw him after that. Leaving Paris I had the fastest train ride of my life. We were on the steamed line train moving 115 m. p. h.. It was a smoothed ride that took us to the port, to board an India ship with attractive Indian nurses. In the American hospital in England, there were sixty beds to a ward, the beds are all white even the wool blankets. We are hesitant about getting in. The head nurses said : “you deserve it, enjoy it”. It is near Christmas, many of the beds are occupied by frost bite patients from the Battle of the Bulge. The doctor moves from patient to patient, holding a paddle with a needle in it and he asks : “don’t you feel anything ?”. Many had foot amputations. Nothing reminds us it is Christmas. I ask the nurse what she can get to trim the ward. She is able to get crepe paper in green and red and lots of string. I ask the fellows to cut the crepe paper in three inch squares and others fan the squares, and tie them onto the string six inches apart. In a day we had steamers of red and green bows hanging from the ceiling and walls. The nurse brought bushel baskets filled with mistletoe that we hung in clumps. Doctors and nurses from other wards came to see what we accomplished. The Air corps patients were wanting to buy anything made in Germany. I sold a pocket watch for $ 100. I wished I had the lügers and medals I left behind. One day we were told to redeem all French currency, and certain german for American dollars. I thought of my pack of French francs.

To follow in September

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