The lieutenant sent a detail out to slaughter a cow. It was in no man's land among some Dragon teeth (cement anti-tank pillars). Of course, we suffered a casualty, but the sauerbraten was delicious. Imagine drinking buss-bomb fluid (i.e., methyl alcohol) with benedictine to kill the flavor, very potent alcohol.
Don't forget VD, or trench foot in the winter and friendly fire. The 24th Cavalry takes a town, a battalion from an infantry division decides to take it again? Oops! The outfit was new at the front. I guess they needed the experience, but it didn't help the soldier who was standing a few feet away from me and not expecting hostile fire. The company captain had to write and tell the folks back home how their sons died. A college course in creative writing certainly would have helped.
To survive you had to keep away from bombs, booze, tanks, broads, Krauts, guns, the cold, grenades, pistols, exploding shells, night patrols and jeeps. All the fun things.
You know, I never saw anyone hurt with a bayonet. It was a useful tool for digging, opening C rations, boxes and locked cabinets. The idea of sticking it into someone scares me to death. It did have a useful purpose though. When a comrade was killed, we would affix the bayonet to his rifle, stick it into the ground next to the body and place his helmet over the rifle butt to let the morticians where he was.
Image if you were a captain having to write these letters. Your son was killed reaching for a candy bar. Your son was wounded while stalking a bovine. Your son was killed by friendly fire. Your son was killed while driving drunk. Your son was killed by a barrel of wine. Your son shot himself in the hand or in the foot. Your son got the clap. And to Mrs. Negri, your son needs glasses, but please, for our sake, don't send him any!
Editor’s note: the lieutenant Joe often refers to is probably 1st Lt Albert C. Sauerman, (O-1030718)