The Hardin tribune-herald. [volume] (Hardin, Mont.) 1925-1973, 1945-02-01

ged. Nothing to eat but them
old greasy pork chops and them
three-inch steaks all the time. l
wouldn't be surprised if they
don't have to eat eggs several
times a week."
And they're so lonely" said an
other. mo entertainment except to
rassle them old DANES around the
dance floor. The USO closes at 10
o'clock and the night clubs at 8.
It's mighty tough on them. No o
der they want to get home"
And they probably don't get no
sleep" said another. sleeping on
them old cots with springs and ev.
erything, and scalding themselves
in hot baths all the time"
And nothing to drink but that
nasty old ten-cent beer and that
awful whisky" chimed in another
philosopher with a shovel.
And when they put a nickel in the
box nothing comes out but Glenn
Miller and Artie Shaw and such
trash as that. My heart just bleeds
for them poor guys"
And did you see where he was?"
asked another. AT the Albuquer.
que Air Base. And he wants to be
home by next Christmas. Hell. II
I could just see the Albuquerque
Air Base again I'd think I was in
Heaven"
That's the way it goes. The boys
feel a soldier isn't qualified to COM
ment unless he is on the wrong side
Of the ocean,. They're gay and full
of their own wit when they get start
ed that way. but just the same they
mean it. It's a new form Of the age
old soldier pastime Of grousing. It
helps take your mind off things.
Into Northern Tunisia.
We moved one afternoon to a new
position Just a few miles behind the
invisible line Of armor that sep
arates us from the Germans in
Northern Tunisia. Nothing happened
that first night that was spectacular,
yet somehow the whole night be-
came obsessed with a spookiness
that leaves it standing like a land
mark in my memory.
We had been at the new camp
about an hour and were still setting
up tents when German planes
appeared overhead. We stopped
work to watch them. It was the
usual display Of darling planes. with
the conglomerate sounds Of ack-ack
on the ground and in the sky.
Suddenly we realized that one
plane was diving straight at US, and
we made a mad scramble for fox
holes. Two officer friends of mine
had dug a three-foot hole and set
their tent over it. So they made
for their tent. and I was tramping
on their heels. The tent flap wouldn't
open. and we wound up in a silly
heap. Finally it did open, and we
all dived through the narrow open
ing all at once.
We lay there in the hole, face
down, as the plane came smack
overhead with q terrible roar.
We were all drawn up inside,
waiting for the blow. Explosions
around US were shatteringly
loud. and yet when it was all
over we couldn't find any bomb
holes or anybody hurt.
But you could find a lot Of nerv-
GUS people.
Dusk came on, and with dusk be-
gan the steady boom of big guns in
the mountains ahead Of US. They
weren't near enough for the sound
to be crashing. Rather it was like
the lonely roll Of al approaching
thunderstorm-a sound which since
childhood has always made me sad
with a kind Of portent of inevitable
doom.
We went to bed in our tents. A
nearby farmyard was full Of dogs
and they began a bowling that last.
ed all night. The roll Of artillery
was constant. It never stopped once
in "a hours. Once in a while there
we're nearer shots which might have
been German patrols or might moi
We lay uneasily in our cots. Sleep
wouldn't come. We turned and
turned. snapped on a f1ashlight.
What time is it," asked Chris
Cunningham from the next cot.
Quarter to one," answered.
Haven't you been asleep?"
He hadn't