The Six Horse Stagecoach Team

The Six Horse Stage Coach Team:

How exactly does it work?

by Francis Graves

   Six horses working together as a team are a symphony of cooperative effort – beautiful to behold and thrilling to drive or ride behind. A six horse team is composed of three sub-teams: the Lead, the Swing and the Wheel teams. All contribute their strength in pulling the load, but each also has an additional unique function important to the success of the whole. In the days when horse-drawn conveyances were the prime means of transportation, people understood how a good team functioned and took pleasure in that knowledge. They came to admire the skills of expert drivers who attained modest celebrity status, not unlike the pilots of airliners today.

   In the era of giant aircraft, high speeds trains and space travel, we have no need to understand how a six horse hitch functioned. It has become only a small part of history – something we know nothing about except what we learn from Hollywood films (which are singularly inaccurate in the way they represent the operation of stage coaches). For example, they invariably show the stage coach teams operating at a full gallop which never happened. Horses can only run so far without resting, perhaps a mile or two, especially if they are pulling several tons of coach, its passengers, baggage and freight. The can go farther at a trot, and perhaps all day, at a walk. Therefore the American long distance stages traveled at a walk in the flat and speeded up to a trot going downhill – a lesson sternly taught by my uncle.

 

   As children my sister, my brother and I, and a number of cousins were blessed to have a great uncle, Captain William Banning, who in the 1920s and ‘30s was perhaps the last of the experienced California stagecoach drivers. He was a consultant to Hollywood, which often ignored his counsel (much to his annoyance), and to several museums. His greatest pleasure was driving his collection of horse-drawn passenger vehicles, including several models of the famous Concord Coaches, which opened the West before railroads took their business. I recall riding with him as he drove then through the streets of Los Angeles and later on through the countryside around Walnut, California, when he moved out of the city to a small ranch. The high spot of our lives was spending summer with him there and having the privilege, if we behaved, of riding with him up on the driver’s boot. Those of us less well-behaved were condemned to ride inside the stage or, in extreme cases, left behind. My cousin Paddy, Evangeline Victoria Banning, and I were the oldest, and we had the honor of riding with him in the grand parade through the streets of Los Angeles and into the coliseum as a part of the 1931 Olympic Games celebration.

 

   While he drove, Uncle taught us many things; about the coaches, how they were built and the intricacies of their design, and about the team’s harness and its functions. As a special honor, he taught us how to hold and use the reins controlling the six horses. It was heady stuff, sometimes difficult for our young minds to fully grasp. But somehow we knew it was important, because it came from that wonderfully wise man who had lived so long and experienced so much, and whom we loved and honored.

 

   For me, the most interesting things he taught us were about his horses. He pointed out their different characters and personalities; which were faithful workers and which would loaf if allowed to; which liked to show off and which were quiet and dignified; and which were playful and which had a sense of humor – yes, horses can have a sense of humor. He made us understand that horses are individuals, just like people. Those were the lessons I remember most and they helped me when I later attended Culver Military Academy and was assigned to a Field Artillery horse-drawn unit which utilized six horses to pull its guns. It was a different version of a six horse hitch which, instead of a driver on the conveyance, used three drivers each mounted on the near (left) horse of the Lead, Swing and Wheel teams. A substantial difference, but the lessons learned from Uncle about horses and how a six horse team functioned still applied there, and they still have stuck with me to this day.

 

   Which brings me to my beginning point. How does a six horse team, the Lead pair, the Swing pair and the Wheel pair, function? Aside from exercising horse power, what unique contribution does each make to the successful performance of the whole?

 

   The Leaders lead – their eyes on the road ahead, ears forward, but always alert and listening for the voice of their driver, ever aware and sensitive to directional signals transmitted to them through his reins. The Leaders set the pace and the spirit, communicating style and pride and energy to the whole team. They are leaders in more ways than one.

 

   The Swing teams job is to follow the leaders, except in sharp turns when they swing wide to insure their tow stays on track, does not “cut the corner”, and, thereby, they set the course for the Wheelers.

 

   The Wheel team, reinforced by the Swing and Lead teams on an uphill grade, provides the major muscle – and in some harness arrangements they help brake on a downhill grade. The Wheelers follow the track set by the Swing team and because the wagon tongue anchored between them is connected to the swiveling front carriage of the stage, they actually steer it.

 

   When the horses know their jobs and are harnessed and hitched to the stage, they cease to be individuals and are transformed, with their driver, into a team – single unit composed of man and beast, working together for a common purpose. Together they become that “symphony” of cooperative effort, that thing of beauty, which cannot be matched today by man and soulless machines.

 

   “With the horses trotting loosely in their harness, and the driver on the brake, we streamed around the curves, at a moment swinging over the abyss until one’s hold on one’s breath involuntarily tightened, and the next, swinging back easily toward the bank. In some places the shoulders of the mountains jutted out so abruptly that we would lose sight of the leaders around the curves before we got there ourselves.

 

   “They were dainty, elegant little animals, those leaders; at one moment with their reluctant heads reined around toward their flanks, they danced like wild deer along the verge of the precipice, and the next, the inexorable driver was grinding them against a bank – but never a sign did they give of leaving the road, so thoroughbred were they. The swing horses, a trifle larger; followed the movements of the leaders but more sedately. The wheelers. Big steady fellows that held the stage back. All six moved in fearless obedience to the guidance of the two hands, clad in a pair of buckskin gloves, whose taciturn owner, with one foot on the brake and another on the footboard, made me think of a skilled musician playing upon a familiar instrument.” (Banning, William and Banning, George. Six Horses. 1928.)*

 

   Clearly there was an element of romance attached to the relationship between man and his horse which is fast fading in the American ethos – that sense of interdependence, appreciation and affection for God’s gift of the willing, faithful, trusting “co-worker,” the horse. Sadly, we no longer need them.

   *This quote from the book Six Horses was taken from an article published in the San Francisco Argonaut on September 9, 1889, authored by Captain Robert Howe Fletcher, describing riding a stage through the mountainous terrain.

 

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Submitted to Ashland Daily Press, January 10, 2012

Is President Obama repeating President H. W. Bush's bad decision in Iraq following Dessert Storm?

The Bush administration failed to affect regime change by deciding not to occupy Baghdad following the defeat of the Iraqi army. That decision was allegedly made on the assumption that the Iraqi people would oust the defeated Saddam Hussein - an assumption apparently driven as much by domestic and international politics as it was by the realities in Iraq at the time. Hindsight proved it to be a mistake because it resulted in the resurgence of the Hussein government and the subsequent slaughter or displacement of thousands of Shiite Iraqis we had encouraged to revolt - not to mention the costly war just declared won by President Obama.

Politically expedient declarations of victory based upon politcally expedient assumptions have a way of coming back to haunt the administration which made them. The truth sooner or later is always revealed. It is revealed sooner when the national media is opposed to the administration making the declaration. It was immediate when President George W. Bush made the "Mission Accomplished" claim halfway through the Iraq war. Hardly a day passed before he was being vilified for that gaff.

Now President Obama has claimed victory in Iraq. He also claimed we can safely leave that country because its new democratic government is stable enough to hold the country together and strong enough to become an ally of the domestic world. Even more problematic, he intimated it was strong enough to resist domination by neighboring Iran. Despite the fact that a great many people of experience who know the area well have questioned the accuracy of his claims, the main stream media seems to have obediently accepted them.

Obama's claims were barely out of his mouth when a new Shiite-Sunni conflict exploded in the heart of Iraq, precipitated at least in part by the Shiite dominated Malaki Government seeking to purge duly elected Sunni officials. That at best has been under-reported by the press which also has cast a blind eye on a new wave of persecution of Iraqi Christians - nor has it mentioned the internal struggle for control of Iraq's oil resources. Clearly the Iraqi situation began deteriorating just as American troops were being withdrawn. That information is available. It is there on blogs and on some cable networks.

Can it be that the mainstream media is withholding the news because it would undermine support for Obama? These events may now be hidden from the American voter who has been gulled into believing our mission has been accomplished in Iraq and all is right and well there. But is it really? And what will we do when the President's happy declarations prove to be false?

If the worst happens in Iraq before November, we will certainly have our own regime change - if after - oh, well, in that case we can leave the problem to future administrations. Whatever happened to integrity in politics? While the Republicans seek another Ronald Reagan, the Democrats ought to be searching for another Harry Truman - both Presidents who put the country above self.

Francis Graves
Bayfield, WI

With General Patton in Czechoslovakia

     European WW II operations ended May 7, 1945. Prior to that date the Third US Army commanded by General George S. Patton had penetrated into what became Czechoslovakia as far as the City of Pilsen.At that time I had just begun my assignment as junior Aide de Camp to General Patton having been transferred to Third Army Headquarters in April, less than a month earlier. I had served over a year as an artillery forward observer in the Third Infantry Division, a unit of the Seventh US Army.

     I was very green and excited about my new job, and was privileged to accompany the General on a trip to what then was the front line of the Army’s advance. The Third Army had been ordered to advance and capture Prague, but that order had been countermanded by Generals Eisenhower and Bradley by reason of problems the British forces were having taking their objective - or it may have been a political accommodation for Soviet Union forces attacking from the east.

     For years I believed that trip was to Prague, but I can find no record of the General ever going to Prague which is some 45 miles northeast of Pilsen. So I have concluded my memory is faulty and that trip must have been to Pilsen - but I am not completely convinced. However, it is known that some Third Army reconnaissance units did reach Prague without resistance in the end days of the war in Europe.

     Whether it was Prague or Pilsen I was privileged to have been with the general when he met with President Benes.

     I have several distinct memories of the occasion. First when we arrived at what I had thought was the Presidential Palace of Czechoslovakia (but it wouldn’t have been that in Pilsen) for a formal luncheon, the General instructed me to remove my web belt with my forty five automatic attached and leave it with the driver of the command car in which we were riding as a matter of courtesy to our host.

     The second thing I remember is how very impressed I was with the beautiful very large and long room in which we were to eat. My guess is that there were at least forty place settings at a very long banquet table beautifully set with silver and crystal and linen napkins. It seemed to me to be typical old world grandeur. Before we sat down wine was served and there was a welcoming speech by President Benes and Czech military dignitaries to which General Patton responded with beautiful words praising the brave Czech people who had harassed their Nazi occupiers.

     I am not sure who else was with the Patton party but I believe it was the Corps Commander of the XII Corps which had spearheaded the drive into Czechoslovakia. That would have been Major General LeRoy Irwin on that date. He had a number of his officers with him. His Aide and I would have been the most junior officer’s present so we sat at the foot end of the sumptuous table, pretty much overawed by it all. The food was of course wonderful, especially for those of us who had been subsisting on army rations for a long time.

     Sometime during the festivities, as was the European custom, all members of the Generals party were decorated by the President. Those of us who were junior received the War Cross of Czechoslovakia, a beautiful medal with red, white and blue thin vertical stripes. To this day I cherish it because not many Americans have it.

     That was a fascinating afternoon in my memory. To be at such a high level ceremony was exciting and interesting, but it had its down side also which was singularly upsetting to us. After the meal and all had risen from the table, there was an informal social time when the Czech and American officers intermingled. I was cornered by a number of Czechs, as were my counter parts. Their one message was “You Americans must not let the Soviet forces into our country. We want no part of them or communism.” I was only a first lieutenant and higher ranking Czechs were taking time to give me the message while the President was delivering the same message to our generals. Those talking to me were emotional and very serious - actually pleading that I deliver their message to my boss.

     I, of course, delivered that message. But it remains an awful memory because we knew the deal had been made between the allies and the Soviets leaders which permitted them to occupy Czechoslovakia.

     Shortly after that meeting Soviet forces marched into the country and imposed their brutal occupation which took the lives of many thousands of Czechs. Without doubt among those were the very same good people we met that day.

     The lesson I learned reflecting back on that day is that political compromise with an evil entity accomplishes nothing other than compounding the evil. General Patton advised against that compromise but in the end obeyed orders.

“A” Battery’s Independent Battle Action – Korea

by Francis Graves

I served in the 1^st Calvary Division in the Korean War. My unit was the 82^nd Field Artillery Battalion which was the general support artillery for the division. We were armed with 155mm Howitzers as opposed to the direct support battalions which were armed with the shorter range 105mm Howitzers.

In early 1951 I was the Commander of “A” Battery when it was assigned an unusual direct support mission. The Division had been driving north (before the Chinese entered the war) and was fighting in very remote, mountainous terrain. One of our cavalry* battalions was locked in a hard fight near a large reservoir and urgently needed artillery support, but it’s direct support unit could not get within range to help due to the difficult terrain.

My Battery was detached from the Battalion and ordered into the mountains to a deep narrow valley from which our Howitzers could reach the enemy. There was a very old unused road, more trail than road, leading into that valley which was barely passable for our high speed tractor prime movers. I believe the valley had been located by aerial reconnaissance. I went up to look at the site and was appalled. The valley was “V” shaped with no flat ground and its sides were very steep, but treeless, and soft ground.

The area was too small for all six of my guns so I opted to bring up four which we emplaced halfway up the slope opposite from our direction of fire. We used a D-4 Caterpillar bulldozer to dig deeply into the side of the hill to provide enough level ground for our guns to be put into action.

I left most of my battery sub-units behind bringing only the four Howitzers, two ammunition trucks and my fire direction center along with a security detail armed with several machine guns because in that area we were vulnerable to attack by enemy patrols.

We were in contact with the infantry unit we were supporting by radio and someone, possibly an artillery observer, managed to register (direct) our fire into the enemy area. Once in position we spent the day and evening providing fire support by employing the high-angle fire capability of our Howitzers which was necessary in order to clear the high ridge on the opposite side of our narrow valley. It was hard work for our gunners and canoneers working without rest preparing, loading, and firing projectiles weighing about one hundred pounds almost continuously.

But at the end of the day we were successful. Our infantry defeated the North Korean enemy unit they were facing decisively, with our fire support.

It was an unusual mission for a general support battery which rarely operated independently of the battalion, and on a direct support mission. The action was made especially difficult by the “impossible” terrain, our isolated vulnerable location, difficult radio communication conditions, and the need to work directly with an infantry unit we did not know.

I was proud of the way my soldiers performed. They were professionals and dedicated to our mission. We all certainly earned our pay that day.

Our greatest reward, however, was a message from the infantry commander, whom I have yet to meet, commending us for the “best artillery support he’d ever had.”

*The 1^st Cav Div in Korea was organized as an infantry division so it called its regiments “cavalry.”

Integrating the 82nd Field Artillery Battalion – Korean War Memories

By Francis Graves

In 1951 I was commanding A Battery of the 82^nd FA Bn. One morning my Battalion Commander called me on our battalion telephone net.

“Graves,” he said. “We are about to receive black soldiers as replacements. You are my only battery commander who is not from the South. Will you take the first ones?”

“Of course, Sir. I’d be happy to.”

That is how our all-white battalion first integrated.*

As I recall we received five black soldiers, a sergeant, a corporal and three privates initially. The sergeant was a graduate of Texas Tech, a quiet well qualified non-com who was immediately assigned to fill a vacancy as Chief of Detail (the battery survey and fire direction team) and he took charge immediately of all his white subordinates and did an excellent job. A perfect fit.

The corporal whose name was Nelson was a small cocky man from Chicago with an aggressive personality. He had been what he called an ‘ambulance chaser’ working for lawyers in the Windy City. It took a month or so for our veteran soldiers to accept him because of his cockiness. He had several altercations with the old timers. He finally became accepted when he challenged anyone to a boxing match. He proved to be an excellent boxer and he beat several challengers bigger than him. He soon gained respect and became a popular among the men.

Unfortunately, we lost the other three. They had infantry MOS’s (Military Occupational Specialty) and were transferred out of the artillery. While we had them they proved to be excellent hardworking men who had made positive contributions in the battery.

I have always been quietly proud of those men and the part I had to play in the integration of the 82^nd Field Artillery Battalion, which was the general support battalion of the 1^st Cavalry Division.**

*The armed forces officially integrated as of 1948, but it was not until two years later the units in Korea began receiving black soldiers.

**The battalion was armed with 155mm Howitzers rowed by high speed tractors.

Memorial

Written Memorial Day, May 30, 2011 by Francis Graves

The Third Infantry Division in which I served in WW II, accompanied by two other American and one British Division, made an amphibious landing at Anzio, Italy, on January 22, 1944. It was an ‘end-around’ regarding the Germans who had tenaciously held fast on the Casino line anchored on Monte Casino north of Naples. The hope was that the allied sudden presence in their rear would cause them to withdraw from their defensive positions, but that did not happen. Not only did they not withdraw, but they quickly surrounded our forces on the Anzio Beachhead with enough strength to prevent us from moving inland.

The Beachhead became a very dangerous place with the German forces trying to force us back into the sea and us fighting to stay dry. That situation lasted four long cold, miserable months. Our Division alone sustained over six thousand battle casualties. It was not until May 22^nd that we were able to break through the German defenses.

I was a lieutenant in “C” Battery of the 39^th Field Artillery Battalion rotating as the artillery forward observer with my friend and counterpart, Lieutenant Barnard Klang, in supporting the Third Battalion of the 15^th Infantry Regiment. I was scheduled to be forward with the infantry in the break out attack on May 22^nd, but had been temporarily assigned to a provisional machine gun battalion the Division had organized to help support the break out effort.

One hundred 50 caliber machine guns (all Division owned) were organized into four batteries of twenty-five guns each. I commanded one of those units and our mission was to employ those weapons, which have a very long range, as we would artillery in interdictory fire missions against enemy strong points. Each gun had to be emplaced along the banks of a canal and accurately located by survey to enable us to aim them accurately at the various targets assigned to us.

We worked at it nights and laid low during the daylight hours to be sure the enemy, which had observation posts in the hills surrounding the beachhead, would not see what we were about. That made for slow work and it took us a better part of a week prior to breakout day to complete the task.

D-day finally arrived and the attack proceeded on schedule and after a very long day of hard fighting was successful. German resistance was fierce but in the end, they were driven back and a significant allied victory was achieved. Our Machine Gun Battalion fired tens of thousands of rounds of ammunition, and the Third of the 15^th, supported by my friend Barney Klang, who had taken my scheduled rotation, achieved its objective after a costly engagement.

But Barney died that day. He was killed in action doing his duty.

(Published in Ashland Daily Press under “Memorial to a Fallen Soldier” on June 2, 2011.)

Wrecking an L-4 Aircraft

By Francis Graves

 

In the summer of 1945 the Third Army was in transition from war fighting to occupation duties and things were winding down. I was junior Aide de Camp to General Patton and as such lived in his residence with the rest of the personal staff, on the Tegernzee, a beautiful Bavarian Lake nestled in the Alps. The general was in the US participating in victory celebrations.

The weather was warm and balmy and Howard Rice, who was co-pilot of the general’s C-47 aircraft, and I spent our off duty hours boating on the lake in a small speed boat that came with the general’s residence. On the lake we met a beautiful German girl who lived nearby. Being young and red-blooded we both were instantly enamored of the lady and began paying attention to her on the pretext that it was an opportunity to learn German. Understand – idle fraternizing with the civilian population was forbidden.

We arranged to meet her on the lake from time to time and enjoy the beauty of the place, swim, and of course study the language demonstrated for us. I must admit that a friendly competition developed between Howard and me, which resulted in our showing off a bit which seemed to please and entertain her. In the course of that relationship she told us she lived in a small village high in the Alps, only a few kilometers from our lake.

One day when Howard and I were not engaged in official duties we hatched a plan to do an aerial reconnaissance to locate her town. Clearly we could not do it in the C-47, so we went to the Third Army Artillery airstrip in the hope of borrowing one of their small airplanes for an hour or so. They were reluctant but finally allowed us to take one for their L-4s, a small two seat Piper-cub type spotter plane powered by a 65HP engine, which had to be started by one person spinning the propeller while the pilot worked the throttle.

What I did not know, but soon learned, was that Howard had never flown an L-4. He was used to the big two powerful engines of the C-47. But he said flying was flying, and he was a flyer, and I was not to worry. We finally got the thing started and off the ground and headed for the Tegernzee area. We climbed up into the Alps and located her village perched precariously on a ridge surrounded by hay fields. Being a thorough-going flyboy, Howard buzzed the town and dropped down to fly tight circles around the place, hoping the object of our affections would show herself so we could wave to here.

At that point Howard’s lack of experience with light aircraft became painfully apparent. He made our turn a little too tight and we stalled with the left wing down. He put on full power to recover but 65HP was not enough. The wing tip caught the Alp and we spun around it into the field hitting engine tail first, then engine. We came to a halt with the passenger compartment being the only component left intact. We were in some shock after coming to a stop, and sat there completely unhurt pondering our situation. However, were soon brought to our senses by the villagers rushing to our wreck. For a moment I thought they were coming to rescue us until I noticed they had their sickles, scythes and rakes with them. They were not there to save us but to save the hay around our wreck. I found that a bit sobering.

To end the story, we decided I would go for help and Howard would stay there to prevent vandalism on what was left intact of our airplane. I hiked down to the general’s residence to report our disaster with considerable trepidation. It was six or seven kilometers distant and I was wearing low shoes and developed blisters, thus becoming the only casualty of the situation.

I reached the residence a little before noon. Major General Hobart ‘Hap’ Gay, Third Army Chief of Staff, was there. I found him in his room shaving. When he saw me in my disheveled state in the mirror he turned and said, “Okay, Frankie, what have you done now?”

I explained the situation. I did not think it was funny and fully expected to be reprimanded and perhaps court martialed. But General Gay laughed and enquired about Howard, and directed me to take a Jeep and fetch him, adding, “You better invite Howard for lunch.”

It turned out that the plane we borrowed was old and about to be ‘surveyed,’ which in Army lingo meant destroyed and written off.

(P.S. I later served in the 1^st Cavalry Division in Korea commanded by General Gay.)

Probably the Dumbest of the Dumb Things I Have Done!

by Frank Graves

After making the Southern France amphibious landing August 19, 1944, our 3rd Division moved north as fast as we could against spotty German resistance. Sometime in September, I was up with the infantry as usual doing my job directing artillery fire. The battalion I was with was a point unit leading the advance in our sector and we had outrun the follow-up units and our artillery as well. We had paused to wait for them to catch up, in a defensive position on high ground in lightly wooded rolling-hill country, intermingled with vineyards and orchards.

The sun was high in a cloudless sky. There was no breeze. It was a hot, humid, enervating day. After sitting around, dozing and drinking lots of water, I and my crew and the infantry around us were bored. We had lost contact with the enemy. As far as we could tell there was not a German within miles of us.

In the early afternoon a couple of locals came through our lines. They claimed they were part of a civilian resistance unit (FFI) and announced that they were holding some German soldiers prisoner in a farmhouse not far ahead of our position. They assured us there were no enemy units anywhere close and asked the infantry company commander to send a detail to pick them up and bring them over. He considered it, but finally refused, having been ordered to hold where we were. The Frenchmen were very persuasive and stressed the fact the area was free of Germans.

Perhaps it was the weather that effected my judgment, but I thought it a pleasant diversion to go in and bring prisoners back. At least it was something to do, and as long as there was no danger of encountering Germans, why not do it? So, I loaded my crew and the two Frenchmen on my Jeep and we headed for the farmhouse.

I first became concerned after we traveled three or four kilometers into what was nominally enemy territory and were still going. Finally, after another kilometer, we arrived. The farmhouse turned out to be a large building - part dwelling and part warehouse. It was on high ground in some woods, perhaps fifty yards beyond a paved road which we crossed. On advice of our escorts we parked the Jeep behind some thick bushes atop a fifteen or twenty foot bank above the road. I left my driver, PFC Burns, and my wireman, Cpl. Garcia, with the vehicle and I, with Cpl. Adams, my radioman and the two Frenchmen walked up to the house to fetch the prisoners.

There were six or eight of them - too many to load on the Jeep. I was pondering walking them back though our lines followed by our vehicle with one of us seated on the hood with our issue Tommy Gun, when I heard a whistle from Garcia who waved at us and pointed up the road to our left. Whatever he saw was screened from us at the house, but I saw Garcia run up to the Jeep and pull some hand grenades out of a box mounted on the vehicle. I quickly surmised something bad was about to happen.

Then I saw it. The muzzle break of a German tank came into sight moving slowly from our left to the right along the road to our Jeep. The gun grew longer and longer until the tank finally came into full view. There was maybe a squad of riflemen riding on top. They obviously had not seen our vehicle because they were smoking and laughing and clearly did not expect us to be there.

At that moment I prayed Garcia would not throw the grenades down on them - that he would do nothing but stay out of sight. Happily that is what he did and the tank passed unmolested, and it was followed by a truck also loaded with more relaxing infantrymen. That was all. It seemed obvious that it was a mounted patrol sweeping through the area. Clearly they were not expecting to encounter us or anyone else because they were not prepared to meet any possible threat. Perturbed, I turned to our French partisans inquiringly. They looked at me and merely shrugged as if to say, "Who knew?"

Encountering that patrol certainly created dry mouth time for me. I realized that I had stupidly undertaken something I had no business doing. Now the problem became how would I get, not only the prisoners, but my crew back to our lines without being detected. After waiting awhile to be sure no more Germans were coming down the road, I sent Burns back alone in our Jeep with instructions to tell our infantry we were walking back through the vineyards with the prisoners, and ask them to send a German truck they had captured down the highway, which passed though their position, to intercept us.

Happily Burns got through undetected and the truck met us. We loaded the prisoners on it and climbed aboard ourselves and headed back to our lines. Then I really began to worry! Here we were in a German truck loaded with Germans, our prisoners, and approaching our lines. What happens if some trigger happy GI sees us and starts shooting? Well, we got back through our lines without a problem and everyone laughed about it all. But I fully realized the dumb thing I had done, just because I was bored, and I was kicking myself for doing it - and continue to do so to this day.