In a thread about a 1917, a poster's father had similar marching orders to my dad. So I thought I'd tell a few stories about my dad who served in B Company, 1st Battalion, 351st Regiment, 88th Infantry Combat Division (the Blue Devils), 5th Army in Italy and was in the North Apennines Po Valley on VE day. He carried a BAR for most of his service on the Italian peninsula during the last year of hostilities. He passed away in December of 2009, 3 weeks after his 84th birthday. He loved the BAR and only complained about it, specifically the weight (more on this later), but only when it wasn't needed in combat, then there were no complaints!
Because he was the BAR man for his platoon, he and his 2 ammo bearers were usually a target of enemy fire due to the BAR's awesome firepower. Often assigned to infiltrate behind enemy lines and secure situations such as enemy machine gun nests, he was twice decorated with the Bronze Star for successfully doing just that.
Being of Italian decent he spoke the Italian language fluently although not always the exact dialect of a particular region. This earned him and his BAR team other special assignments when US supply convoys were hopelessly bogged down in the mud of the Po Valley winter conditions.
One of those was leading the Italian underground allies and pack trains of mules laden with our ammunition to the front lines over the mountain ridges under cover of night. When the mules brayed in complaint of their heavy loads, any German patrols in the area immediately opened fire in the direction of the noise with everything they had including mortars! The key to survival was to run as far as possible from the pack train and open fire on the enemy gunfire flashes in the pitch blackness which again the BAR excelled at; then immediately roll or run to a new position.
Once during a lull in the fighting, while assisting a wounded GI, he laid the BAR aside on the ground. Unfortunately, a US tank ran over it. However it was still serviceable except that the plastic butt stock was demolished leaving only a metal rod protruding. Until it was replaced he could only fire from the hip, which was not uncommon anyway.
During R&R behind the lines the BAR was always surrendered to the quartermaster. When sent back to the front he was reissued another BAR with the bipod. Although he would refuse the bipod because of the extra 2 lbs. of weight, they always insisted he take it. But as soon as his platoon was on the march to the front he would fling the bipod as far as he could. He often said the Italian peninsula was littered with his discarded bipods from Anzio all the way to the Po Valley.
And lastly, my dad's future father-in-law was a machinist during the war. Shortly before dad signed up, he was given a machined part as a keychain from his father-in-law-to-be who said he was making them under secrecy of a war contract therefore the machinists were not told what it was. Dad soon discovered just exactly what it was in boot camp when he first disassembled a BAR. The mysterious part was the BAR sear!!
He survived the war in Europe but was sent home to Fort Dix, NJ temporarily as an MP until his new orders were cut for the Pacific fighting. There were two kinds of MPs he said: raw recruits that the soldiers ignored and returning veterans like him that they obeyed to the letter.
Fortunately, VJ day came before he had to ship out so home in NJ was where he ended the war.
Because he was the BAR man for his platoon, he and his 2 ammo bearers were usually a target of enemy fire due to the BAR's awesome firepower. Often assigned to infiltrate behind enemy lines and secure situations such as enemy machine gun nests, he was twice decorated with the Bronze Star for successfully doing just that.
Being of Italian decent he spoke the Italian language fluently although not always the exact dialect of a particular region. This earned him and his BAR team other special assignments when US supply convoys were hopelessly bogged down in the mud of the Po Valley winter conditions.
One of those was leading the Italian underground allies and pack trains of mules laden with our ammunition to the front lines over the mountain ridges under cover of night. When the mules brayed in complaint of their heavy loads, any German patrols in the area immediately opened fire in the direction of the noise with everything they had including mortars! The key to survival was to run as far as possible from the pack train and open fire on the enemy gunfire flashes in the pitch blackness which again the BAR excelled at; then immediately roll or run to a new position.
Once during a lull in the fighting, while assisting a wounded GI, he laid the BAR aside on the ground. Unfortunately, a US tank ran over it. However it was still serviceable except that the plastic butt stock was demolished leaving only a metal rod protruding. Until it was replaced he could only fire from the hip, which was not uncommon anyway.
During R&R behind the lines the BAR was always surrendered to the quartermaster. When sent back to the front he was reissued another BAR with the bipod. Although he would refuse the bipod because of the extra 2 lbs. of weight, they always insisted he take it. But as soon as his platoon was on the march to the front he would fling the bipod as far as he could. He often said the Italian peninsula was littered with his discarded bipods from Anzio all the way to the Po Valley.
And lastly, my dad's future father-in-law was a machinist during the war. Shortly before dad signed up, he was given a machined part as a keychain from his father-in-law-to-be who said he was making them under secrecy of a war contract therefore the machinists were not told what it was. Dad soon discovered just exactly what it was in boot camp when he first disassembled a BAR. The mysterious part was the BAR sear!!
He survived the war in Europe but was sent home to Fort Dix, NJ temporarily as an MP until his new orders were cut for the Pacific fighting. There were two kinds of MPs he said: raw recruits that the soldiers ignored and returning veterans like him that they obeyed to the letter.
Fortunately, VJ day came before he had to ship out so home in NJ was where he ended the war.
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