A mortar is a short, barreled cannon that fires shells at a high trajectory, usually at the enemy. I say usually, because I never really knew where the first shell was going to land. The gun worked effectively only after the base was seated properly. The impact of the first shell seemed to do the job. I was the mortar corporal of my platoon. The gun was used sparingly by the Cavalry. In my many months at the front, I believe I used it about three or four times. Both the gun and the projectiles had to be carried on your back. It was primarily an anti-personnel weapon, and you had to be close to the enemy to be effective. When you’re under a mortar attack, the incoming shells sound differently than regular artillery, more of a hissing than a crackling sound, and not as loud. The squad consisted of three men. I was the gunner, plus two helpers. We had to get as close as possible with our Jeep, and then tote the gun and shells to our assigned position. Our gun was a 60-millimeter weapon.
A 75-millimeter shell was three inches, so you do the math. The projectiles had to be manually dropped into a metal tube that had a firing pin at the base of the BBL. You had to attach the proper amount of smokeless powder on the tail of the shell, remove a safety pin and drop it down the tube. There were bubble levels and screws for fine adjustments. I also had to estimate the range to determine the amount of increments you have fixed to the shell to give it the necessary impetus and distance. I remember this one time it became necessary to bomb an area on the line. We were on the move again and this spot needed special attention. In my crew, I had me a new man. He was a pushy loudmouth, always bragging and trying to stand out. Very annoying. I mention him because he makes me look good later in this chapter.
We snuck into position, carrying with us plenty of ammo. I had to find a hollow area to set up the mortar so as not to be seen by the crowd. As the gunner I had to position the base and try to secure it solidly to the earth. There were above all levels to adjust, and of course I had to aim the gun, hoping the shell didn’t go straight up. Looking back, I think I was better at this than firing a machine gun. Well, I did all the preliminaries, and was ready for action. I instructed the new guy to affix the proper amount of powder to the tail, remove the safety pin and drop it down the BBL. Everything went along smoothly on the first try. Perfect trajectory and distance. Then I had to adjust and keep feeding the weapon. We were repeatedly hitting the target area when ole Mr. Murphy made another appearance.
The new guy dropped a shell down the tube, and it didn’t discharge. Oops! We had a live shell in the tube, and I lost my dropper. The new GI panicked and took off running as fast as he could and parked himself a safe distance away from us. You know, I just can’t understand why people keep leaving me. First the green Sergeant, then Bender, Pfc Maisie, and now the new guy. You know, I was beginning to think that when I got out of the army, I needed to go to charm school.
So now we have a live one in the tube, and it was up to me to get it out. The safety pin had been removed prior to firing the projectile and there was to be another one coming out while in flight. I had never been in this predicament before, but I knew I had to get the lead out, so to speak. I quickly removed the barrel from the base and had my partner tilt it, so I could catch the dud. Whew! I replaced the safety pin, attached the barrel to the base again and continued with the mission. The results were better than I had expected. When we had used up all the ammo, the runner sheepishly returned. In fact, he volunteered to carry the mortar back all by himself. He became my mule. He was already a jackass!
Editor’s note: ‘Bender’ is Tec 5 Ernest Bender (37081137). ‘Maisie’ is Corporal Thomas Masi (15324867).