It was a dark and stormy night. I always wanted to start a story like that. But if I start there, it will be in the middle. So I better backtrack to the beginning. Almost a week before the dark and stormy night.
It was my first road mission where I was in charge. I was half scared and half elated. I got my op order from the Truckmaster and my Platoon Sergeant ...they told me who was going with me and all the details of the trip. It was going to be six from my platoon and six from another. There was buck sergeant from the other platoon who was going to be the co-commander of the convoy. The mission was simple. We were going to Kaiserslautern to pick up towed howitzers and deliver them to Bremerhaven...all the way up to the top of Germany. We were set up to overnight in Kassel. The chow and billeting were already arranged so all we had to do was inspect the trucks and drivers and head out.
The first leg was easy. We went up to KAD (Kaiserslautern Army Depot) and picked up the cannons and returned to Mannheim for the night. Early on the next morning we headed out for Kassel. We ran into some snow north of Frankfurt but it wasn't too bad. There was a lot of confusion about where in Kassel we were supposed to stay. There was a very restricted access missile kaserne in Kassel and several of the trucks wound up there instead of the little maintenance facility where we were supposed to be. They were not welcome there.
It was past nine o'clock before we got everyone rounded up and secure for the night. The days' trip had been rough and everyone was out pretty quick. Some went into town and had some interesting adventures in a gay bar...subject for another time.
The howitzers we were towing were awkward. The tongue wasn't long enough to facilitate backing...they were center-balanced, that means that the weight was balanced right on the top of the single axle and tires. This makes it easier for the cannon crew to unhook and set up the gun. It also means the dang thing bounces like a ball all the way down the road. They pulled the trucks this way and that, they bounced and wiggled, and even when the road was smooth they started an undulation that put you in mind of riding a trotting horse.
The next morning early the snow was building up. We headed out right after breakfast and by noon we were driving through snow and slush that was about 6 inches deep. We considered holing up somewhere but had no instructions or provisions for that. There used to be a trailer in a rest area north of Kassel where you could get a cup of coffee and info on road conditions...it was operated by the 37th Trans. They told us we could crash in the trailer if we wanted...there were already 5 or 6 guys who had taken that option, their trucks shut down for the night. Adding our 15 or 16 bodies to theirs in that dinky little trailer would not be pleasant. We decided to push on. Near Hannover it quit snowing and just got cold. We got into Bremerhaven very late. They have a 24 hour mess hall there run by the Navy so we ate good and settled into the transit barracks for the night.
The next day we were able to drop the guns off at the right depot and went to the CHOC (Central Highway Operations Control) for a back load. They didn't have anything for us right away so we were sent to the Trailer Transfer Point to move trailers around. In the winter, the commercial style tractors that the 37th Group used were useless once they got off the pavement...they could get stuck on wet grass. So the folks who ran the TTP were really happy to see a dozen tactical tractors (our trucks had more axles, mud and snow tires, and front wheel drive) pull up. We spent the day pulling trailers out of the muddy TTP and dropping them on the pavement so the IHCs could hook up to them. This went on for a couple of days. I finally got through to the Truckmaster late the second afternoon and explained what we were doing. He was mad. He said they were not giving us loads out of there on purpose so they could use us for yard tractors, shuttling their trailers around. Yeah, well we had figured that out. Truckmaster said leave Bremerhaven right then. Leave without a trailer, just get back to Mannheim ASAP. So we did.
It was a dark and stormy night. We hit snow well north of Hannover and by the time we got south of it, we couldn't go more than about 25 mph. I considered pulling over but there wasn't a safe place to get off the road and if we did, I wasn't sure we could get back on it again. So we crept along...trying to keep enough distance between us so we didn't slide into each other but stay close enough to keep an eye on each other.
Hawkshaw was an old fashioned trucker. Drafted at about 30 years old, he was the oldest driver in the squad. He had scars on his noggin from getting mugged a bunch of times, but he still stopped and helped people when he saw they needed it. He would come in around payday (we only got paid once a month then), pick up his laundry and get back on the road. An industrious trucker could stay out on the road for three or four weeks at a time and Hawkshaw would.
Just a bit north of Kassel there is a long, long bridge across a deep valley. It is also a fairly steep grade on the bridge. I had slowed down to a crawl, the snow was near blizzard intensity and there was ice under the snow on the bridge. It was creepy...in more ways than one. Then at the bottom of the bridge I could barely make out one of our trucks sittiing on the side of the road...facing me! There was a car stopped near the front of the truck. I was imagining all kinds of scenarios...none of them good...as I pulled carefully off the road behind the car. I could see Hawkshaw standing next to the car talking to a German in a thin overcoat...I assumed it was the driver of the car because there wasn't anyone else around for miles, except for a couple of our trucks coming down off the bridge...sort of half rolling and half sliding.
I climbed down into the full force of the wind and horizontal snow storm and walked up to the front of the car. I couldn't believe what I saw. Hawkshaw had the ignition from the car spread out on a towel on the fender. He was meticulously drying each piece with a teeshirt. I asked him what was going on and he informed me in his drawly country voice that "these nice German folks here had a little ignition problem...see these here Mercedes with the big six cylinder are prone to this kind of trouble...the distributor ain't vented right and moisture can build up in there and play hell with your spark. Only way to fix that is to get it all dried out. Why, a fella could freeze out here tonight, Sarge, so I figured it wouldn't hurt none for me to help 'em out. Be done in a jiffy, here then this here fella and his family can get moving again." I hadn't even noticed the mom and kids bundled up in the car.
So we stood out in the near blizzard while Hawkshaw did what he did best. We shivered and shook so bad, I didn't think Hawkshaw would be able to put all the little pieces back together. But finally he did. The Merc started with a roar and before the German could even say thanks, Hawkshaw was back in his truck and jockeying around to get back on the road. After a little slipping and sliding, and a little push from BFD, the Merc got back on the road, too. My last look at the car was two little faces in the back window. The kids were waving and smiling, obviously glad to have the heater working again.
There are a lot of stories about "ugly Americans"...noisy, inconsiderate, drunken, brawling, arrogant and mean. Some have no doubt earned the title. But Hawkshaw's story is not a fluke; it is more the norm than most people would think. Wherever American GIs go, they help people, they protect people, they go out of their way to be fair with people. I spent a lifetime watching soldiers and the way they deal with things. Soldiers, warts and all, are dear to me and this weekend I have been thinking about some of them I have known...including Hawkshaw.
The story has no point...just something I witnessed years ago...on a dark and stormy night.