A Veteran's Journey

Trivia Questions (Answers @ end)

1. Who said, “Life is simple, but we insist on making it complicated.”?
2. In what movie did we hear the line, “You’re not perfect and she’s not perfect. But the question is, are you perfect for each other?”?
3. In what 1967 hit song (and who sang it?) did we hear the following lyrics?
   There’s something happening here
   But what it is ain’t exactly clear
   There’s a man with a gun over there
   Telling me I got to beware

---

V-E Day (Victory in Europe) was May 8, 1945. You are probably aware that this year marks the 75th anniversary of the end of World War II. There will be many (MANY) celebrations held in Europe over the next few months. It is still a big deal to those who were liberated. It’s also a big deal to me, because my father fought during this war and was part of the liberating forces.

FYI: I’m planning to write a few blog posts and sprinkle them in over the next few months with excerpts from my WWII book: You Can’t Get Much Closer Than This—Combat with the 80th Blue Ridge Division in World War II Europe. This was my dad’s WWII diary that I edited and published in 2005. I think some of the passages will be appropriate to share during this 75th anniversary of the end of WWII.

While Pop is no longer with us (my dad died from cancer in 1989; he was only 68), I know he appreciates that we all continue to keep these memories alive so that future generations will Never Forget.

Early February 1945

The Battle of the Bulge had “officially” ended January 25, 1945. It had been the coldest winter Europe had seen in more than fifty years. Lots of snow, much of which was beginning to melt, made the rivers rise to unusually high levels. The 80th Infantry Division, like most Army divisions who fought in Europe, crossed many rivers–it was almost routine. But, the early spring ’45 thaw made the crossings much more difficult and dangerous. And, the Germans knew that.

My father’s own words: We knew that our next mission would be to cross the Sauer and Our rivers and hit the Siegfried Line (known as the West Wall), and that wasn’t going to be any picnic. Although we never talked about it, we had a pretty good idea what had to be done when the time came.

We found some liquor in the house we had temporarily moved into, awaiting the crossing. My good buddy, Kad, Bill, and I enjoyed ourselves as much as we could because we were only a few miles from the German border.

The Siegfried Line

German engineers had constructed concrete “dragon’s teeth” in parallel rows across hills and valleys. Mostly, they were five rows of pyramid-shaped, reinforced concrete projections resting on a concrete mat, ten to thirty meters wide and sunk a meter or two into the ground.

The dragon’s teeth were staggered and spaced in such a manner that a tank could not drive through. Interspersed among the teeth were minefields, barbed wire, and pillboxes that were virtually impregnable by artillery and set in such a way as to give the Germans interlocking fire across the entire front.

February 11, 1945

It was cold and rainy, and there were only walls of houses remaining. That afternoon we went up to take a look at the place where we would have to cross the Sauer River into the Siegfried Line. The crossing site was in the vicinity of Dillingen, Luxembourg.

From our vantage point on the mountain, we looked down to our right front and could see the battered little town of Lellingen, where the engineers were going to try and build a Bailey Bridge. The surrounding ground was nothing but a pocket of shell craters, and the Krauts were still firing artillery.

The Sauer River was swollen many feet above its normal level and the current was very swift. It didn’t look good at all. The river wasn’t normally that wide, but an unusually early warm spell had thawed the snow, causing the river to swell to about twice its normal size and flow at about ten miles per hour.

We were going across in assault boats. One platoon had already made it over and had established a perimeter defense. The only things that should bother us were artillery and snipers. The Krauts were sending down combat patrols every now and then, but they didn’t amount to much.

My mortar platoon was to be the last across. While we were in the CP [Command Post], one of our men came in soaking wet. He had gone over on an engineer rubber raft. The current was so strong that it tore the raft to pieces and several of his men had drowned.

The engineer captain who was in charge of the boats had a cable stretched across the river and had a system rigged up where the current would pull across the assault boats and rafts. It was not the first time we had crossed rivers this way. But it was the first time we tried to cross a river flowing as fast as the Sauer River was that day.

Time to Cross—Now!

About midnight, on my way back to rejoin the platoon, I met Kad bringing the platoon down the road. He had received orders to get the men across right away. The current was very swift, he advised, and we could only put three men with their equipment, plus the engineer in charge, in each boat.

It was pitch black and we couldn’t see a thing. Something didn’t feel right, and I was getting nervous. We had crossed rivers before at night in assault boats and rafts, but this was different. I couldn’t explain it.

Mac (my runner), Sergeant Roach, and I went across first. Kad was going to feed the men to us. We were going to assemble on the opposite bank and then move west about half a mile to where Bill was positioned and waiting for us.

Two boatloads of my men made it across before the boats stopped running. There was no way we could get in touch with the other side to find out what was holding everything up.

I went back to the wire cable, where I had left Sergeant Roach, but no one had come across. I sat down on the bank of the river with my hand on the cable. That way I could tell when a boat was coming across.

The cable grew taut. A boat was coming over. The cable grew tighter, then it snapped.

It was an awful thing to witness. The night was so black that we couldn’t see our hands in front of our faces, and yet we could hear people yelling for help only a little way out in the river. We were helpless. If we tried to help them, we would surely have drowned ourselves. We didn’t have any lights with us and, even if we had, we probably still couldn’t see anything.

Where’s my buddy, Kad?

When dawn came, we got the rest of the men across the river. I knew that Kad would see that all the men got across before he started, so I didn’t ask anyone where he was until Sergeant Peck came across and asked me if Lieutenant Kadison was okay. I told him I hadn’t seen him.

Then Peck told me that after the boats broke down, Kad crossed on a raft to tell me what the hold-up was. He was probably on the raft that had been torn apart in midstream. My heart sank.

It wasn’t a pretty picture. Kad had on his overcoat and all his equipment. I could picture a flimsy raft tearing apart in midstream of a swollen river and the hundred boxes of heavy rations tumbling every place. It was so dark that visibility was impossible. Even an excellent swimmer could not have gotten out of that death trap.

I tried to believe that he had somehow escaped and was somewhere down the river. Nothing could happen to my buddy, Kad. He had escaped death so many times that no little river could hurt him. We had shared so much together. The snows were gone now and we would soon be through the Siegfried Line. The war would soon be over and we could relax and enjoy life together. He was a brilliant man and had so much to live for. I loved him as my own brother, and he meant so much to his men.

I did everything possible to find him. We asked everyone we saw. We checked every hospital and every aid station, asked every medic. The 5th Infantry Division was crossing down the river a piece. We asked everyone there. Sometimes we got rumors. We traced each of them down, but they only ended in blind alleys. One man told us that a dark-haired man who had been wearing a red scarf had been picked up out of the river. Kad wore a red scarf, so I got my hopes up. But that led to nothing.

The Krauts had been sending combat patrols down to the river to try and get some of the prisoners back. Perhaps they had gotten Kad. If that was the case, then he was sure to be all right.

But that was not the case. His body was found two months later, three miles below where we had crossed. Lieutenant Saul Kadison from Brooklyn, my friend, my buddy, my brother was dead.

Emotional Scars

My father never talked to me about his friend, Kad. I first read about him in my dad’s diary. Even then, he wouldn’t talk about it—he would always change the subject.

Losing a fellow soldier, especially one that became one of your best friends under the most extreme stressful times, is one of the most difficult things a veteran carries with him throughout the rest of his/her life.

Books are written about the “band of brothers,” but I don’t think any of them can convey the sense of closeness veterans have with other veterans, especially those they served with.

My dad made it through the war with a few physical scars. He was awarded two Purple Hearts and a Bronze Star medal for Valor. I know he carried a lot more emotional scars, but his generation rarely talked about the war.

More than once I told him that he was my hero. I know, deep down inside, he appreciated that, but he always told me, “Son, I’m not a hero. The heroes are the ones who didn’t make it back.” I’m sure many of you have heard that exact same statement, too. And, not just in the movies.

I think all of us appreciate what our fathers and mothers (and grandfathers and grandmothers) sacrificed during World War II. I’m of the “Vietnam Era” generation and I, too, appreciate what ALL veterans have sacrificed. I thank the good Lord that I never saw combat, though I did see my share of death during my time in the Navy.

This is one of the most somber and powerful statements about veterans I’ve ever read. I’m sure you’ve seen it before and appreciate it like I do. If not, please read carefully.

Whether active duty, discharged, retired, or reserve, a Veteran is someone who at one point, wrote a blank check made payable to “The United States of America” for an amount of “up to, and including, their life.”

THAT IS HONOR
We Will Never Forget

Until we meet again,
Andy

Andy Adkins is a US Navy veteran (’73-77) and the author of several books. His newest novel, NEVER FORGET, is the story of A Vietnam Veteran’s Journey for Redemption & Forgiveness. NEVER FORGET is FREE (eBook, PDF) for all veterans. Download your FREE copy HERE.

Answers:

1. Confucius
2. Good Will Hunting; Robin Williams to Matt Damon
3. For What It’s Worth, Buffalo Springfield