Filthy Thirteen Read online

  Boy, the airborne was a brand-new thing. The 506th Parachute Regiment was the first parachute regiment activated. They had only activated battalions before. Consequently, there was a dire and direct need for airborne vounteers to be successful. If they got hold of the type of people that they wanted, they tried every way in the world to keep them. So our punishments were going to be damned little. I do not remember one man in Regimental Head quarters Company ever being court-martialed. Very few of us even went to the stockade and we knew we would not stay in there very long. They needed us too badly. They were not going to sacrifice one of us who they knew was a good combat man.

  Most of the time I just got light punishment for two or three days. Anyway the punishment would get me out of all that close-order drill and picking up cigarette butts. I enjoyed the stockade more than I enjoyed garrison life. I really had fun the whole time, making it worth it.

  NATURE WORSHIP AND RETREAT FORMATION

  When I first went in, the army felt that everyone had sisters or brothers or a wife or children that really needed some financial help. So after thirty-one days, they just automatically made everyone a PFC14 and that raised their pay to thirty-one dollars a month. They anticipated that most of them would send an allotment of five or ten dollars back home. That was the general procedure.

  I had not been in there much over a week until I whipped that mess sergeant. After that of course, I got a lot of details and this and that, and the longer I stayed the worse it got. At the end of the thirty-one days, why they were not about to promote me to PFC. I never made PFC the whole time I was in the army but I always remained an acting sergeant during training.

  They had a stinking regulation back then—of course they have it now and always will. This reveille and retreat ceremony was the stupidest thing I ever saw in my life. We would stand there in formation and salute as they raised and lowered the flag while music played over the loudspeaker. What made it worse, they would bring us in out of the field about ten minutes to five o’clock and we were supposed to be shaved, shined, showered, and standing out there in formation for this retreat deal. This did not give us time to properly clean up. I thought, “This is stupid. I’ll have no part in it.”

  They always gave a count just before we came to attention. The first sergeant would sound off, “Give the report!” Then each sergeant over each group of men reported to the platoon sergeant, “All men present and accounted for,” or “Absent and unaccounted for.” The platoon sergeant would then report to the first sergeant. If there was a man unaccounted for, he would ask him to give the name so he could go ahead and discipline that person.

  Well, Sergeant Johnson, my platoon sergeant, reported me absent and unaccounted for. Top Kick told him, “You get with him and find out what the deal is.”

  So he asked me, “McNiece, I had to report you absent and unaccounted for at retreat today. Where were you?”

  I said, “I was over at the PX.”15

  He asked, “What were you doing at the PX?”

  I said, “I was drinking beer and eating peanuts.”

  He asked, “Why?”

  I said, “I like beer and peanuts and I don’t like retreat.”

  He said, “You think over that answer. There are about five million people in the military and they all stand retreat.”

  I said, “Well, this one doesn’t. I don’t stand retreat under any circumstances.”

  He asked, “What do you mean?”

  I answered, “Well, it’s against my religion.”

  He said, “What?”

  So I told him, “You see my dad was Irish and my mother was Indian. Dad, of course, was Catholic. My mother was a nature worshiper. I adopted her religion. I’m a nature worshiper.”16

  He said, “What’s that got to do with retreat?”

  I said, “Well, it’s like this. That flag you all run up out there that everybody salutes and pays tribute to. That’s a handmade flag. Why don’t you do it to one of these pine trees or something? It just won’t work for me. We worship the sun and the moon and the stars, ants, and bugs and mosquitoes, lions, and tigers. Anything that’s of nature, we respect. Not this crap on this handmade flag and organ grinder music you’re putting out. That would violate every principle and scruple of my religion. Well, just count me out.”

  He said, “I don’t think you’ve got the right perspective on this. You have to stand retreat. Everybody stands retreat.”

  I said “Yes, I have. I want to tell you something, Johnson. There wouldn’t even be a United States of America if it wasn’t for religious freedom.” I said, “That’s how this country got started. I have that right and privilege. I know it. I won’t be at retreat.”

  He could not believe what he was hearing. He told me, “You better be there tomorrow night.” Then he went back and told the first sergeant.

  Well the next night I did not go out. Johnson kept heckling me. He cajoled me and threatened me and begged and pleaded for a week. Then he sent me into ole Top Kick Miller. Then he cajoled me and threatened me and begged and pleaded for another week. The third week they turned me over to this executive officer. He was a stupid little ole kid out of OCS and did not know any more about it. He cajoled me and threatened me and begged and pled and offered me different things for another week.

  I told them, “I’m not standing retreat.”

  When they had all gotten through with me, I had repeated this story so many times that I had it down verbatim. It was just like reciting a poem. I had kind of begun to believe it myself. I got to where I would watch so that I would not even step on any ants.

  Well, they finally sent me to report to Captain Hank Hannah, the company commander. He was an attorney out of Illinois and a very shrewd person.

  I reported in to Captain Hannah, “Private McNiece as ordered.”

  The company commander’s office was a little bitty room. Top Kick had his desk over against the wall with this executive officer next to him and then Captain Hannah. They were making out like they were doing all their work, but they were on the edge of their chairs just listening. They wanted to see how the captain was going to make out.

  Captain Hannah said, “Private McNiece, I understand you’re having a problem with retreat.”

  I said, “No sir. I’m not having any problem with retreat.”

  He said, “Let me put it another way. I understand you have refused to stand retreat.”

  I said, “That’s right.”

  He said, “Why?”

  So I gave him this whole big spiel about my religious freedoms and all this and that and how my religion of being a nature worshiper started. I told him, “I am a volunteer not a draftee. You can teach me to go over and kill Germans. I don’t have any objections to that but I am a conscientious objector to retreat.”

  Hannah patiently looked at me and then he said, “You know what McNiece? We have nearly five million people in the military service today. As far as I can determine, you are the only one that has ever professed this religion.”

  I returned, “That doesn’t surprise me. We are a very small group. There are very few nature worshipers left.” I also added, “I don’t think that should be a determining factor.”

  He said, “I want to tell you something. There are over several hundred regulations in the army and you have broken half at one point or another. I do not believe you have a speck of religion in you. So you will stand retreat this evening.”

  I asked, “You would give me a direct order and know, thereby, that you will violate and destroy every scruple of my spiritual life?”

  He said, “Yes.”

  I grinned and said, “Well, that’s all that I’ve been waiting on.”

  Top Kick Miller and that executive officer, they looked like they had been hit in the head with a club. Hannah was a fine old gentleman and I stood retreat that evening.17

  I only stood retreat that one day in October. Afterwards we were so busy training that we never had to stand retreat again. Para
troopers were excused from all retreats from then on during their training period.

  FIGHT WITH THE MP’S18

  Our basic training was nearly over and we were getting ready to go to Fort Benning, Georgia, to make our five qualifying parachute jumps. The guys I tented with went with me into this little ole town of Toccoa the next night to celebrate. About half of the town was off limits, which was where we picked up all our whiskey and women. So we went into the off-limits district to get us a fifth of whiskey, then we went back up to where the MPs would not fool with us. We would drink our whiskey then go back and get another fifth. By about the third trip, we were pretty drunk.

  This ole boy, who owned the joint and bootlegged this whiskey, was trying to get us out of there before the MPs came in and shut him down.

  I told the guys, “Hey, we ain’t even going to be able to get drunk tonight. We’re walking it off faster than we can drink it. Let’s just stay out here.”

  So they said, “Okay.”

  Every honky-tonk and beer joint used to have a great big gallon jug full of pickled eggs sitting up on the counter. Little Shorty Mihlan had to stand up on his tiptoes to reach in there to get him a handful of eggs. We were all drunked up and everything. Shorty would throw an egg up against the ceiling and holler, “Fifty dollars a month!” That is what our pay would increase to as a paratrooper.19

  Then someone hollered, “MPs are coming!”

  Well, Loulip, Majewski, and Lee ran out the back door. Little ole Shorty Mihlan was acting tough. He just walked out the front door to meet those MPs. It was about four or five steps down to the sidewalk. Well, Shorty stumbled and rolled down the steps just like an ole volleyball down into the gutter. I just proceeded on down the steps behind him.

  When I got down there, why Shorty was rolling around trying to fight and hit someone. Those two MPs charged in on us. One reached down and picked Shorty up and Shorty started fighting. This MP took a swing at him with his night stick. I just stuck my hand out and warded it off.

  I said, “Don’t hit him with that stick. He’s so drunk he can’t hit the floor with his hat in thirty throws. He can’t attack you.”

  He said, “I’ll do anything I want to with this stick.”

  Then he reeled back to hit him again. When he did, I reached over and grabbed that stick and yanked it out of his hand. Then I whipped him and the other MP. Boy, I beat them right down into that gutter. After I climbed out of the gutter, I took their forty-fives20 off of them. Of course, I was drunk as nine hundred dollars and started shooting up signs, not trying to hit anybody but shooting out street lights and neon signs, anything until I emptied their guns. I was just mainly trying to get rid of their ammunition. I just did not want them armed. Then I handed them back and said, “Now we are ready to go with you.”

  So they took us down and put us in the stockade. The next morning Captain Hannah came up.

  He asked me, “McNiece, what happened?”

  So I told him exactly what happened.

  He said, “Jake, we’re going to go in about ten days up to Atlanta from here by truck then we are going to make a forced march of a hundred and thirty-six miles, full field pack to Fort Benning. So that’ll beat the record of the Japanese.” The army wanted some unit in the United States to beat the record. He asked, “Do you think you can make that march?”

  I said, “That would be no problem. Why, I could do that without getting a blister or change my socks.”

  Like a father talking to a son he said, “Well, I think you can. I’ll tell you what I’m going to do though. I’m going to leave you in here until the day before the road march. I would rather they be watching you than me because I don’t want to fool with you. They can control you better than I can. You’d be into a dozen different things. So I don’t even want to hear anything out of anybody.”

  Captain Hannah was a fair man and treated everybody with equal respect. I told him, “Okay.” So he left me in that stockade until the day before we left.21

  CURRAHEE

  The Currahee Mountain’s base was laying almost in our camp. Every morning before breakfast we would run on a heavily graveled road up the mountain and back, a distance of three miles to the top and three back. Because of this big loose gravel, it was about as hard to run back down as it was to run up.22

  Hannah was a good track man and a big fellow, tall, about six one. His specialty was the mile run. When we made this run every morning, Majewski and I would lay our toes down on his heels all the way back. When we got down to the bottom, within a quarter of a mile from camp, we would start hollering, “Heat! Heat!”23 but he would not race. I believe Majewski or I or either one could have beaten him.24

  The path that they ran up the mountain passed right by the stockade. The stockade was just about two hundred yards from the company street. It was just a barbed wire enclosure with five-man squad tents. When confined there I would stand there and grin every morning from behind the barbed wire fence as they came back past me. When they came by I would holler, “Heat! Heat! Heat!”25

  RETURN FROM THE STOCKADE

  They left me in the stockade until the day before the march. Hannah sent word to the stockade for them to return me to the company. Three MPs armed with shotguns marched me down through the company street. I had on this stockade garb. It had two big “Ps” painted on the front and in the middle of the back of the shirt and a third on the pants of these blue fatigues.

  Malcolm Landry, a kid from the communication platoon, later asked me, “Jake, do you remember the first time that I ever saw you?”

  I said, “No, you did not come right in with the first batch. I don’t know when you came in.”

  He said, “The first time that I ever saw you, I was standing out there talking and shooting the breeze and here you come up the street there with three MPs walking along with shotguns on you. I looked back and asked, ‘I wonder who in the hell that is and what in the hell he has done?’ One of the guys kind of grinned and said, ‘That’s McNiece and no telling what he has done. He’s been in the stockade for ten days.’”

  I started taking the dungarees off. The MPs wanted them back. So I started stripping them off and the other guys asked, “How come you get monogrammed uniforms all the time?”

  I answered, “You can get one. The ‘Ps’ stand for Professionally Perfect Paratrooper. After you make so many jumps you are awarded these monogrammed uniforms.”26

  TOWARD EMBARKATION

  ANOTHER FIGHT WITH THE MP’S

  December 9, 1942

  Third Battalion was dropped off by truck at Atlanta, Georgia, and we started our march from there. We completed forty-two miles that first day. Of course we mostly ran. A lot of the guys took their boots off that night and their feet swelled up so much that they could not get them back on the next morning. It was also raining and snowing. Oh, it was miserable. They had those “blood buckets” [ambulances] following right along to pick up anyone who fell out. An awful lot of the boys did fall out and only about seventy-five of our battalion finished. I did not have any problems at all. I did not even get a blister.27

  There was a little ole kid named Arthur Hayes from Boston. He had buddied up with me. He wanted to be a Wild West, rootin-tootin, son-of-a-gun. So I called him “Red Gulch.”

  Hannah promised a seventy-two hour pass to anybody who could complete the whole march without falling out. We had just arrived in camp when I said, “Let’s get our showers real quick then run down and get our seventy-two hour passes and get out of here.”

  He asked, “You feel like going out?”

  I said, “Yeah, you bet. We’ll be the first ones out of here before these paratroopers get in there and ruin the whole thing.”

  He said, “Okay.”

  So we shaved and bathed, then ran down to the orderly room and told Top Kick we wanted our seventy-two hour passes.

  He said, “You know the passes are for tomorrow. So you can get one tomorrow.”

  I said, “I don’t want
one tomorrow. I want to go out before the rest of these idiots get into town.”

  He said, “Get the hell to bed and forget it. You’re in no shape for a pass.”

  I said, “I’m all right. This has not bothered me at all.”

  Not very many guys wanted to leave that camp. They just wanted to bunk. Top Kick pleaded and begged with us but we kept heckling him until he gave us our seventy-two hour passes.

  We went into the black district of Columbus to party and have a good time. The black folks recognized that we were paratroopers. They were real patriotic. They had one big ole woman there going around the room praying. She must have weighed three hundred pounds and she came over and kneeled down in front of Red Gulch. When she did, that dress was just as tight as a bow string right across her bottom. She was praying for us and our safety when Red Gulch reached over and patted her on the butt. As a result, Red Gulch had a word or two with some of the black men and then the brawl began. We went to work on them and whipped the shit out of those guys.

  After the MPs brought us back, Captain Hannah called us in. He looked at me. “McNiece,” he said, “I don’t know what to do with you.”

  Red Gulch Hayes spoke with that real strong Boston accent and presented our defense. “Sir, let me tell you what happened.” He began to talk but he was just drifting around giving the captain all this BS and crap. He was not even sober and I could see he was not impressing Captain Hannah.

  “Wait a minute, Captain Hannah.” I said, “You’re missing the whole story. You evidently don’t seem to understand that this was a bunch of black men we was whipping.” I thought that all I had to say was they were blacks and that would wipe the slate clean.28

  He said, “McNiece! I’ll tell you something! There’s no Mason and Dixon Line in the army! We’re all one! It don’t make a damned difference what they were. You think that’s the whole solution but it isn’t!” He continued, “McNiece, I can’t believe you. I took you out of the stockade to get down here then you grab a seventy-two hour pass and you’re in the stockade again before midnight. I give up!”