Sketch Artist Shop by Ken Barton

World War II: A Combat Medic’s Story

   

Pvt. Willis H. Barton Sr.

Medic – 3^rd Infantry Division – 42^nd Combat Engineers

DAD’S CALL TO DUTY:

At the beginning of World War II, when America entered into the war men from all across the country reported for duty to the recruitment headquarters within their localities.  My Dad was working as an orderly at the W.C.A. Hospital, here in Jamestown, N.Y., when he received his notice from the President of the United States calling him for duty in the military.

So, as thousands of others were doing across the country, he reported for duty down at the Army Recruitment Center.  He filled out the forms they required of him and then came the question that charted his course for three years to follow.  They asked, “What is your current occupation?”  He replied, “I’m an Orderly at the W.C.A. Hospital.”  The recruiting officer smiled and said, “Well, now you’re a Medic in the U.S. Army!”  From there they shipped him off for Buffalo, N.Y. where he would receive the training he would need as a Combat Medic treating men on the front lines of the War waging against Germany overseas.

As a Combat Medic, Dad’s responsibilities included first-aid treatment of injured, wounded, or sick military personal.  Treatment of injuries including: cuts, blisters, lacerations, scrapes, applying antiseptics, and bandaging wounds.  Assembling and applying both arm and leg splints, treating shock, and stopping bleeding through the use of compress bandages and tourniquets.  Much of this training Dad taught us kids as we were growing up as well so when the need arose we would know what to do.  Finally, the transport of wounded on litters, jeeps, or ambulance to field hospitals where more refined treatment can be administered by Doctors trained in emergency surgery. 

Our Dad’s training came in handy whenever one of us kids got hurt badly.  On a few occasions our injuries required taking us to the hospital for further treatment, a normally disturbing time for most parents, but not my Dad.  He would usually stand back and wait for a response from the attending physician, who almost on cue, would say, “Someone here knows what they’re doing!”  Dad just glowing with pride at the still sharp skills he once used in combat so many years back.

COMBAT TRAINING:

From Buffalo, having completed his medic training, he was then sent to Boot Camp down in Texas.  There he received more training to get him in physical condition so he can do his job effectively.  Being a Combat Medic he did not need training in how to shoot, because it is against the Geneva Convention for a Medic to carry a firearm of any sort; but, he did learn how to protect himself with his hands.  The Judo / Jujitsu they taught soldiers then, were specific for combat conditions, and did not include the flamboyant moves you often see in the movies. 

I still remember one day shortly after receiving my black-belt in karate how my Dad took me down in the “Blink-of-an-eye” with a scissors drop, and was on top of my back, asking me, “What I was going to do now?”  As if there was anything I could really do!  You have to understand there is a distinct difference between the training you receive in a local karate class where you spar or fun, and the training you receive in the military where your very life may be dependent on how well you defend yourself.  Here was my Dad; nearly 40 years later, still endowed with those reflexes, and skills, that helped make sure he came home alive!

While in Boot Camp in Texas that fall, they experienced an unusual snow fall that dropped 12” of snow on the ground.  That was a record for Texas at that time but, being from N.Y. my Dad was used to conditions like what they faced, where many others there had never seen snow before and had a tough time dealing with it.  Of course they were asked to march in the snow, run in the snow, crawl through the snow, and of course shovel the snow.

One test my Dad particularly enjoyed was the day they had them go into a building wearing gas masks.  Inside, they were told to sit down on the benches lining the walls, and then given various instructions.  The primary instruction was to make sure their masks were secure because in the middle of the room they set off “Tear Gas” explosive.  With their masks on they were all fine but, then they were ordered to remove their masks.  Most sat there at first trying to hold their breaths, but one by one each one gave into taking huge gulps of the gas, causing them to gag, and cough uncontrollably.  Finally, they were allowed to exit when they had enough, and just couldn’t take it any longer.  Everyone exited except the drill sergeant and my Dad. 

My Dad just sat there relaxed, seemingly breathing easy, while the poor drill sergeant stood there struggling for air.  Finally, he told my Dad, “Get the heck out of here Private!”  At which point my Dad got up and walked out the door and rejoined the rest of the group.  Now whether he was actually breathing easy or holding his breath is anyone’s guess, because he could easily hold his breath over 4 minutes, and it was unlikely the drill sergeant would have known this.  In later years we learned Dad’s lungs were huge, requiring two X-ray plates to be able to photograph all his lungs.  Maybe they should have made him a “Frog Man” instead of a Medic!

TO THE FRONT-LINES:

After completing his Combat Medic training in Texas, it was time for him to be shipped, along with thousands of others, overseas to join other soldiers on the front lines, fighting the Germans.  On the Transport Ship that carried him across the Atlantic Ocean my Dad fairly quickly discovered he was not ready to handle the stormy weather they were to face.  As Dad described the trip, he said, “First, all you see is a wall of water way above your head!  Then, suddenly you are looking down at the water way below you!”  Up and down, Up and down, until my poor Dad was sick to his stomach, and green as the deepest forest!  Clinging to the side rail, Dad, along with many of his companions, hung their heads over the side of the ship, hurling their guts out!  So bad was his convulsions he even lost his ‘false teeth’ over the side.  It would be several months before he would be able to get new false teeth and in the mean time he would have to gum his food.  Not a very pleasant experience depending on what you are trying to eat!

Once they landed and were deployed with their various companies Dad went to work.  He was assigned to the 3^rd Infantry Division, 42^nd Combat Engineers, where he learned how to work with explosives, how to build structures like portable bridges, and how to remove land mines the enemy may have hidden in their way.  Not that he had to remove any land mines; he still was given the training, just in case the occasion came up where he had to. 

Most of his work was working as a Combat Medic on the front lines; but, he did have occasion to perform other duties when they were on leave.  At one (Rest & Relaxation) R&R location he was assigned to help build coat racks for the Officer Club.  While working outside nailing these racks together my Dad suddenly realized there was an Officer standing behind him watching him; so, he quickly snapped to attention, and saluted the Officer as he was required, not knowing if he had done something wrong or what.  He asked, “Is there a problem sir?”  “At ease, Private”, he said.  “Where did you learn to swing a hammer, Private?  I’ve been watching these other fools swinging and missing the nail, but you haven’t missed once!?”  Dad said, “Sir, most folks in my family said I was born with a hammer in my hand.”  The Officer said “Well, I have to agree with them Private.  You’re doing a great job; I won’t hold you up any longer.”  Dad went back to work and the Officer continued on his way.

ON THE FRONT LINES:

All too soon though my Dad would be back on the front lines dealing with situations in combat no one should ever have to face; but, in war time such things are all too common.  He was the only Combat Medic in his unit; so, the day the truck they were riding in hit a land mine, even though he himself was hurt, he had to see to the needs of his companions who were injured severely.  It wasn’t until he returned to the states and had his back x-rayed, did he learn his whole spine was twisted.  The chiropractor was able to straighten him out but, he did end up with an Arthritic back unable to bend well.

On one occasion, again riding in the back of a transport truck in a long convoy, a couple soldiers who were riding in a Jeep farther back in the convoy, decided they did not want to go that slow.  So, they decided, unwisely as it would turn out, to cut across the field to the right of the convoy to get ahead of the convoy.  Once ahead of everyone, they would be able to get to where they were heading that much faster.  So, they cut out of line, and started across the field as fast as the Jeep would carry them until suddenly, “Boom!”  Their Jeep hit a land mine blowing the Jeep, and the two of them into the air!  The one soldier was killed instantly and the other wounded severely!  Dad grabbed his bags, jumped out of the truck, and tore out running across that field as fast as his feet would carry him, all along everyone yelling at him, saying “Stop!  Don’t go out there!”

When he got to the wounded soldier he quickly put a tourniquet on his leg to stop the bleeding.  He gave him a shot of morphine for the pain and made sure he was ready to be transported to the closest field hospital.  With the aid of hand held mine sweepers, six mines were cleared out of the way to get him, the wounded soldier, and the dead soldier out without further incident.  When they asked him why he ran across the mine field like that, his only response was, “He needed help and I went.  I never gave the danger a second thought!”

One evening when their unit was out removing mines from some road leading down to a river where they needed to put in a bridge, the enemy opened up on them with machine gun fire.  Totally exposed, many men were killed instantly, while others dove for what cover they could find.  My Dad dove into the ditch along the side of the road landing flat on his back!  On either side of him he held his medic bags tight against himself while ‘Tracer rounds’ from the enemy machine gun shot straight up over him, just inches away from cutting him in half!  Finally, the infantry was able to ‘take out’ the enemy machine gun, allowing everyone to get back to work.  Dad went to work treating the companions he could help; but, the others were beyond help.

Being a Medic, Dad’s nightmares were not about the men he had killed during combat; but, rather were about the men he could not save.  Guys so torn up or torn apart, all he could do was hold them during their last moments, and offer what comfort he could until they passed.  One soldier had been burned severely and asked Dad for a cigarette.  Dad lit one up for him and held it up for him so he could get a couple puffs in, and suddenly he was gone.

Those were the tougher type memories Dad had to deal with besides all the near death experiences he had when bullets flew past his head, or shells exploded right next to him sending him flying through the air.  One day in the middle of a Fire-fight, Hammy, a buddy of Dad’s was given the task of taking machine gun ammo up to the front line to resupply the soldiers in the machine gun nest; so, he picked up a couple boxes, and started off in the direction he was told to go.  Hammy looked back, and there was my Dad right behind him carrying two more ammo boxes!  His buddy said, “What are you doing!  You’re not supposed to be up here!”  Dad told him, “I don’t want to die alone!”  With that said, they kept on going when all of a sudden a German popped up out of a hole in the ground shooting his machine gun at Dad and Hammy!  They hit the ground in an instant, the bullets going just over my Dad’s body while actually digging into the ground under Hammy!  The left the ammo boxes lie and tore out running back to the trench they had just climbed out of.  Dad thought Hammy was dead, but thankfully he made it back to the trench as well, just moments behind Dad.  They were really fortunate they weren’t killed.  As it turned out, the machine gun nest was in another direction!  The way they had crawled was right up towards the German line!

On another day while the unit was moving forward down a road an enemy rocket hit the bank right between Hammy and my Dad, knocking my Dad to the ground, dirt flying everywhere!  It took him a minute or so, until he was able to pick himself up, and see if he was okay.  He was fine, but his buddy, Hammy was nowhere to be found!  All that was left was his rifle and helmet that was spinning on the ground.  Dad figured the rocket had blown Hammy to pieces, so he picked up Hammy’s rifle, attached the bayonet to it, and stuck it into the ground.  Then he placed Hammy’s helmet on the butt end of the rifle as a marker to pick up a body.

As it turned out, Hammy wasn’t dead.  He had been blown through the air, landing way down at the bottom of the small valley on the other side of the road.  Knocked out from the explosion, Hammy didn’t wake up until nearly 1am in the morning!  It took him 3 days to catch up to the rest of the unit, and then, they wanted to Court Martial him for being A.W.A.L. (Away without leave)!  He said, “How can I be A.W.A.L.! when I’m dead!”  They finally dropped the charges and let him rejoin the unit.  Dad checked him out to make sure he was okay and they went back to work.

I do not wish to make out like my Dad was more special than any other soldier during WWII, the truth is they were all Hero’s, and I personally believe the title that’s become popular in recent history fits them well.  They’re the “Greatest Generation” of Americans.  Dad’s tour of duty took him from the upper parts of Africa, across the Mediterranean Sea to Italy, and on up through Eastern Europe to Germany, and finally on home again.  If you have some War exploits to add of your own or your Dad’s feel free to share a Comment in the comment section of this Hub.