I went on five patrols during my stay in the trenches. The first one was to rustle some beef. There was this one cow grazing in the valley near some Dragon’s teeth. The lieutenant decided to send out a nine-man patrol to butcher the bovine. The lieu might have had a yen for some fresh beef, or he wanted to see if the Krauts would fire on us. One of the men on this detail was a farmer from the Midwest and was supposed to know all about butchering cattle. He was carrying his rifle, a knife and a short, handled sledgehammer.
This was no patrol for a New Yawker like me to be on. I can remember how my mother killed chickens, Ugh. But orders were orders, so off we went into ‘No man’s land’. We inched down to where the tank obstacles were and used them for cover. The teeth may stop a tank, but not a GI on foot. Well, we snuck up on the trusting young heifer, and while I was closing my eyes, the ex-farmer was using the hammer to smash the bovine’s head in, then immediately cut the cow’s throat.
He worked very quickly gutting the animal. It was amazing how he could disembowel the cow so quickly. What he did was run the tip of his knife lengthwise across the carcass’ stomach and the entrails fell out in a baglike pouch. He then carved up the best meat into six large pieces for us to carry. This would have been a perfect patrol but for one thing. The Krauts must have observed us and decided to keep us honest. They lobbed a few shells at us, slightly wounding the butcher. He now has a Purple Heart for his part in this escapade. He certainly deserved it; he carried the biggest piece of beef.