Jolin tells of his experience in WWII
BY JOY POWERS

It wasn’t really a surprise to Harold Jolin, Edgeley, in 1941 when he received the letter telling him he had been drafted into the Army and was to report for duty at Fort Snelling in Minneapolis, Minnesota. He knew that they were hitting pretty quickly with the draft.

From Fort Snelling Harold was sent down to Camp Claiborne in Louisiana. Harold was at Camp Claiborne when the news of the attack on Pearl Harbor came through. Harold and his unit were shipped immediately to Texas City, Texas through the night to guard the oil wells there. At this time fear wasn’t an issue Harold said, "We didn’t know enough then to worry much." As a machine gunner it was their job to stand on top of the warehouses in a large oil storage area with their machine guns ready and watching for airplanes that might attack. This duty didn’t last long and from there they were sent back to Camp Claiborne and then onto New York for the long boat ride to begin their duty in Europe.

After they boarded the boat and left New York they joined up with a huge convoy with all types of ships. The waters were full of subs and U-boats with the Germans prowling the waters everywhere. Harold can still remember the loud bang from the explosion, as they’d drop their depth charges every once in awhile when they suspected a U-boat was in the area. The convoy zigzagged through the waters rather than staying in a straight line. This prevented the enemy from getting a good bead on them with their torpedoes. Some of the ships in that convoy were hit by enemy torpedoes and never made it to Europe.

When they landed in Londonary, Ireland they were the first U.S. Army troops to land on European soil during World War II. Here they began their training. Harold said, "They were determined to get us in shape in a hurry, and they had us hiking 90 miles a week." This soon ended as the men began to wear out their shoes and with no replacement shoes for them, the hikes were stopped. They weren’t being bombed at that time, but as his unit drove past Belfast they saw the destruction and devastation that had taken place before they got there. Square blocks were left as total rubble and total mess.

Then their orders came in and the unit began to pack up to be shipped out. They weren’t being told where they were headed, however, the Irish Civilians told them they were being sent to Africa. It was a horrible boat ride. Going through terrible storms the front end of the boat would go up 50 feet and drop down again. Everyone one was getting seasick. It wasn’t an American boat, Harold thought it was possibly a British boat. They didn’t have enough crew and it was a just a tub of a boat. The men had to man the anti-aircraft guns (20-mm orlikens). Some of the men stayed in their bunks for the entire boat ride, too sick from the rough waters. Harold remembered the food aboard this ship. "It was so bad," he said. "I remember the bread was all cockroaches. They baked them right into the bread." Harold recalled the day they got to go down into the galley and there they saw the large pile of flour used to make the bread. "The bugs were running all over it and they didn’t care. They just ignored the bugs and shoved them right into the bread and cooked them." As they passed by the officer’s quarters they would see how nice their quarters were and how they were treated so much better than the rest of the men. "We didn’t count on this boat," Harold said. But they did have one advantage when they were busy manning the machine guns, they would get fed lunch at midnight and then they would be served officer’s food which was much better than the bug-infested food they’d been eating for days. Once they hit the Mediterranean Sea the water was calmer and finally 2-3 weeks later, they arrived in Oran, Africa. It was a big relief to all of them to hit dry land.

At the time of their arrival in Africa there was some confusion with the command there. The French were in control of North Africa but the Germans had subjected them and the French were going to fight the U.S. troops until they were finally able to straighten out the confusion and join their forces together to fight the battle.

They were committed to head to the front lines at Fondouk Pass, Africa. Harold said, "We didn’t know what we were walking into in Algeria. We were exposed to the enemy continuously." The U.S. brought in their tanks to help with the fighting. As the tank battles began, Harold’s unit was sitting right in the middle, between the tank battles from both sides. "We suffered enormous casualties," said Harold. One man was in a sand hole and when the tank rolled right over him, he broke down. He was alive but he couldn’t take it anymore and was discharged. "We were caught in the middle (of these tank battles) with our rifles and machine guns," Harold said, "That was just like using BB Guns against those big tanks." The fear was there for the men, but Harold said, "You just didn’t think about it, you just hoped you would come out of it alive and do your duty and yet you always wondered when you might be hit next." By the second day over 30 tanks from both sides could be seen burning, disabled, or wrecked along with the many ground troops that had been injured or killed.

The unit spent about a year there. It was the start of a long and grueling campaign. The cooks fixed them good food during this time. They saw such little bread being on the front line that it was a real treat when they did get some. It didn’t matter if it dropped to the ground. The men would pick it up and wipe it off and savor the wonderful treat. Harold remembered one of the men making pies once. He quickly took them back to his mess tent to guard them thinking the men would steal it before it could even be served with the meal.

The German Stuka Bombers bombed and strafed them regularly with machine guns. Once the U.S. planes finally got control the African Campaign finally ended. The men were excited and certain they would be sent home now. When they boarded the boat, they quickly learned that they were headed back to Italy not home.

When they landed at Salerno, Italy there was no opposition there. However, it was the beginning of another long and arduous campaign for these men. As they set out, there was always another hill or mountain to attack. The enemy was always looking down at them from the high ground. The enemy would back up to get into a good position and lay in waiting for the U.S. troops to approach. They were on the front lines for weeks at a time without ever removing their helmets. There were times they’d have a short lull in the fighting and the men were able to grab catnaps but basically sleep was not an option. They took sleep only when they could get it. They would finally be relieved for a few days and taken off the front lines so they could have a hot meal, a bath and get clean clothes. It was a luxury for the men. Once in awhile some of the men would even get passes to go into one of the small nearby towns.

Harold remembered getting one of those treasured passes once and heading into town. However, he became sick with the flu and the medics treated him, loaded him back up and sent him right back up to the front line even though he was till on pass. It didn’t matter.

They used mules to help them haul their ammo for the machine guns over the hills and mountains. As they traveled on, they kept seeing the devastation and destruction that had hit so many small towns along the way after being shelled by both sides. "It was real bad," Harold said. The mules were stubborn and if they didn’t want to go, they didn’t. After climbing the hills and mountains the mules would give out and the men would then have to load the ammo onto their shoulders and haul it themselves.

"It got pretty bad there, the winter was rain and cold. It was such a mess," said Harold. They had no shelter and they lived like animals out in the cold. It was a continuous loss of troops as they were killed or injured or got "trench foot." Their feet were always soaking wet day after day, night after night. Their feet would just shrivel up as there was no chance to dry their feet. The men that got "trench foot" were shipped back to a hospital in Africa. Harold recalled taking off his shoes and socks and wringing them out, trying to dry them a little before putting them back on to avoid getting the disease.

As they took ground from the enemy they would pass by their quarters. It was disheartening to see the enemy’s nice living quarters and camps as these men struggled to survive in the cold, wet winter. However, it was always time to move on with hill after hill to overcome, and struggling to continue on fighting for their country with enemy always looking down upon them, watching and waiting for them to advance just a little closer.

Harold remembered thinking, he would never make it back home. The chances were so slim. The overall strategy was for them to keep the Germans occupied here so they wouldn’t get in on France. The overall picture was basically that they were supposed to be expendable. It wasn’t a happy outlook for these men as they continued on.

When they reached Cassino, a monastery sitting on the top of a hill, they had orders that this was not to be destroyed. The enemy was using it though and looked down right upon the approaching troops. "We were just like clay pigeons to them," Harold said. Normally the troops and planes would have just flattened the Cassino, but both sides saw this site as a landmark and wanted it to remain. With a great loss of lives here, plans finally changed and the U.S. planes came in and bombed the Cassino flat.

It was here at the Cassino when Harold remembered a close call. He heard someone calling out and recognized the friend’s voice. Harold got over to where he was positioned, only to find him dead. When Harold returned to his spot, he discovered it had been bombed and destroyed. It was the cry of help from his friend that had saved Harold’s life that day.

Their unit was near Anzio Beachhead when an artillery shell landed right beside Harold. It knocked his helmet off and threw dirt all over him, and he never even found a scratch on himself. Later, when they reached a rest area, Harold reported to the medics complaining that his ears were still ringing from the explosion. The medics could do nothing for him and to this day, he says his ears still ring.

As they were nearing Rome, his platoon was involved in a counter attack. When it ended, they heard a voice calling out for help. The men knew to be careful. Many times these "cry’s for help" would be decoys waiting for the troops to come out and then ambush the men. They’d seen the enemy raise a white flag to signal their surrender and as the troops would stand up, they’d be flattened and ambushed. The men approached the man who cried out for help that day, and discovered a German Lieutenant with a leg wound. The man spoke very good English and one of the soldiers said to him, "Why are you guys fighting us?!?!" The German Lieutenant answered him as he shook his head, "I don’t know." The men took him back to the medics and that was the last they ever saw of him. It was this counter attack that earned their platoon silver stars. As Platoon Sergeant, Harold wrote up the articles to get these medals for the men. However, even the silver stars didn’t help the morale of these war-battered and tired troops. It was only their inner strength that kept them going. It was a long and drawn out campaign, day after day, month after month. For a year and a half, most of their time had been spent on the front lines witnessing the destruction daily.

The men by now were a tough-looking bunch. They had not shaved or had a bath for three weeks. They were approaching Rome and they soon learned that it didn’t matter how bad they looked, the people were there waiting for them, waving American flags and cheering to welcome the men into the city. As the news of the Normandy invasion hit, the luster was taken away from Rome and the men moved north to pitch their tents in an olive grove and take a short break. Harold woke up that night with terrible pains in his stomach. The doctors stood him up and gave him a shot. When the shot seemed to help, the doctors said to give him another one. Harold can’t remember anything after for the next two days. They told Harold later that a Black Widow spider had bitten him. The doctors questioned him intently to learn of his symptoms and quickly learn how to handle incidents of this type and Harold explained that his feet had felt like they had nails being driven through them. As soon as Harold was able to leave the hospital he was sent right back to his platoon to join them again.

It was near Livorno (Leghorn) Italy where Harold was wounded in action. Shrapnel went into his lungs. He was taken on a stretcher to a jeep and told they would have to make a run for it, to get him to the medics. The enemy was shelling up the road ahead and that it would be a rough ride. They finally made it to the Evac Hospital and he was sent on to a hospital in Rome. The shrapnel had fractured his sternum and his lungs kept filling up with fluid and soon surgery became necessary to remove the pieces of shrapnel.

Peace of mind came quickly as he recovered and learned that he would be sent back to the states. His time on the front lines had ended. It was here that he received the "Purple Heart" medal and remembered the ceremony that was held for them as the officers came into the room where the 25 men were lying as they recovered from their wounds. They tossed the purple hearts onto each of their beds and left.

Harold was one of the fortunate ones. After being in battle for 22 months and most of that time on the front lines fighting for his life and his country, he was finally going home. When he arrived back in the States, he was transferred into the Air Corps. By now he knew the ropes and was able to get transfers from base to base. Due to his injury he was on limited service duty and finally found the opportunity to apply for a discharge. They asked him to stay on and even offered him a commission and the rank of Lieutenant, but Harold declined. One of the Officers asked him, "What have you learned in the Army that would qualify you for a job in the Civilian world?" as he looked over Harold’s papers. After reading through them, he looked up at Harold and said, "Well you can go to Chicago and become a gangster!" Harold declined that option, too, and took his honorable discharge after four years of service to his country and returned home to Edgeley.

Back home in Edgeley, it was quiet. It took a lot of adjusting. Harold soon discovered that the beds were too soft. He could sleep on the hard ground better than in a bed. He slowly adjusted to his new life and began to try to put the last four years of his life behind him. It was then that he met and married his wife, Martha and they still live just southwest of Edgeley. "I paid quite a price for this peace and quiet," said Harold.

The men in his unit had been his family. They shared a closeness that is hard to explain. They shared their lives through the worst of times and watched as many were killed or injured. They saw devastation and destruction that will never leave their minds. The men gather together every so often for a reunion of the happy and sad times that they shared together for so many years. At one of the reunions they were able to attend, a friend reminded Harold of the time he had nearly saved his life. The men had been on guard duty. When their shift ended, they were able to go back over the hill to where their tents were pitched. Often the enemy would sneak down the hills and into the tents to knife the men in their sleep. That night Harold saw one of these men coming into the tent. He grabbed the man by the neck. Suddenly the man let out a squawk and Harold recognized the man as their Platoon Sergeant. The men were able to laugh about it back then and even later as he always thanked Harold for nearly saving his life.

Harold received many medals and honors for his time served in World War II. They include ones for the European-African-Middle Eastern Theater, three bronze stars, an American SV Medal, a Good Conduct Medal, the Purple Heart, a Presidential Citation, five Overseas Bars, one Service Stripe, a Combat Inf. Badge, one Silver Star Medal, and one Bronze Star Medal. These medals and ribbons can tell a story of their own, but they can never take away the years of Harold’s life that he gave to earn them.