AN AMERICAN HERO

Birmingham was a great place to grow up. There was always plenty to do – especially with my Dad. He involved himself in almost every area of our lives. He would come to watch us in little league, go camping with us when we were in Boy Scouts, take us swimming at Cascade Plunge and take us fishing. Oh…for those days again. They were really wonderful.

One of the things that relatives naturally love to do (I guess) is go visit other relatives. Dad grew up in a family of 12 children, so we had plenty of aunts, uncles, and cousins. I remember many times going over to My Uncle Clarence’s house and playing with cousins. Clarence was always sort of special to me. My dad had told me that he was involved in World War II, as were several of his brothers. Another, my Uncle Jim, won a battlefield commission and the Silver Star for heroism as a Marine on Saipan in the Pacific. But, I never knew exactly what Clarence did, until much later in life.

Clarence worked at ACIPCO – American Cast Iron Pipe Company. He worked out in the plant with engineering crews. While I was working there during the summers of my college days, he would come through the plant to make sure that I was doing OK. I worked in the melting department, where we poured molten iron at 2700 degrees from one ladle to another before it was transported to the area where it was poured into castings and molds and made into ductile pipe. It was a tough job, it was a dirty job - but Clarence was there to encourage me. His nickname at ACIPCO was “Chipmunk”, or “Chip” for short. It was probably for the position and size of his upper two front teeth. They looked pretty normal to me, but somehow he got the nickname and it stuck. After I found this out, I started calling him “Uncle Chip”. He was a good guy.

Time passed from my college days, I got married, had a family, and moved away because of my Air Force career. I hadn’t seen Chip for a long time. Then, while I was stationed at Hurlburt Field, Florida, in the panhandle (L.A. - lower Alabama) my dad told me that Chip was living not-too-far from me in Foley, Alabama. He also told me that Chip had had some pretty serious heart problems and had only recently had extensive surgery. I decided to go find him and visit for a while.

I found an address for Chip and headed west from Fort Walton Beach to Foley. It was about 2 hours away. I finally located Chip’s house, walked up and rang the doorbell. The front door was open, but there was a screen door which kept the bugs and varmints out. I rang, and heard no answer. So, I rang again, and then knocked. I heard Chip holler that he was on the way. He finally shuffled to the door, still in his pajamas. He was still recuperating from the surgery. When I saw him coming, I called out “Uncle Chip!” His response was interesting. He didn’t say “Who are you?” He said “Whose” are you?” He was now at the door, still a little skittish about letting some strange man in his house. I replied “Uncle Chip, I’m John’s baby boy!” He smiled and said “Bobby, come on in.”

Chip shuffled over to his easy chair and, with the help of his walker, he settled in. He asked me if I wanted anything to drink, etc., and I told him “No – I just wanted to come and visit and see how you are feeling. I’ve been worried about you.” He assured me that he was fine, recuperating nicely.

We talked for about 10 minutes as I filled him in on my life’s history. I told him of my wife, my kids, what I was doing in the Air Force, etc. Uncle Chip was a believer. We had previously talked about his relationship with Christ, and he was excited about my ministry – especially since I was with Air Force Special Operations at that time. I remember that Dad had told me that Chip was involved in D-Day (Operation Overlord) in Europe in 1944, so I wanted to hear all about Chip’s adventures. I decided that the time was right, so I popped the question: “What did you do in the war, Chip?” His reply was immediate and firm: “I don’t want to talk about it!” Wow! I was somewhat surprised. I didn’t expect that type of response. So, I used some of my good old counseling skills and approached the question from another angle: As we talked, I gradually got him to open up and tell me where he was and what he did. For the next four hours, I couldn’t shut him up! It was unbelievable!

Now, I must admit that on my Dad’s side of the family, there were a few scoundrels, so I really didn’t know if Chip was exaggerating the facts or not. It didn’t seem like it. I believe that he was giving me an honest account of what he could remember. After all…this was 1997, and he was 75 years old. But his memory was excellent, and he began his story.

Chip had volunteered to become a paratrooper. The training, he said was “rigorous”. As a lover of history, I had read much about the 82nd and the 101st and their formation, training, and deployment to Europe. “Rigorous” was putting it mildly. After their training was complete, they were transferred to England to await their next assignment. They didn’t know immediately that it would involve “D-Day” but they knew that they would probably jump somewhere in Europe. The 82nd had already jumped into Italy, and now they were waiting for the “big show”. It finally came on June 6, 1944.

Chip was a young man when he loaded up into the C-47 that would take him across the channel. He had about 80 pounds of equipment strapped to him. His rifle was strapped across his chest, and his commando knife was down on his right leg, right above the boot. He could look out the window of the plane and see the armada of ships below. He remembers the USS Texas (battleship) firing its huge shells (as big as a Volkswagen at 2,000 pounds) from its 16” guns. As their plane crossed over into the continent, he knew it was just about time to jump. All of the sudden, the firing stopped. Having “softened up” the German defenses, the firing was over, and the air was completely silent. He doesn’t remember if they were on course or not, but they couldn’t have been too far off. Their assignment was to jump into St Mere Eglise, France, take the town and hold it. He saw the red light come on inside the C-47 and shuffled to his feet. The Green light signaled that it was time to exit the plane. He shuffled toward the door and jumped into the night. He realized that they were low, but he didn’t realize just how low. They jumped from 400 feet – one hundred feet longer than a football field! He went out of the plane, and the parachute caught the air and opened. It was an extremely short ride. His chute oscillated one time. That means that he acted like a pendulum. From being parallel to the ground when he jumped, he swung back to the opposite position one time, and landed in a tree! He wasn’t hurt, but he was stuck about 4 feet off of the ground. He couldn’t get to his knife, and he couldn’t get to his weapon. He had no choice but to hang there until someone came along to cut him down. It was still dark at 4:00 AM.

The first soldier by was not American! It was a single German soldier. Maybe he was on patrol, or maybe he had somehow gotten separated from his unit in the confusion of D-Day morning. He had spotted Chip dangling in the tree, and had come by to investigate. What happened next was nothing short of miraculous. It is a well-known fact that most GIs who were found dangling in trees were either shot or their throats were cut. The Germans showed very little mercy. Chip saw him advancing toward him and went completely limp. His chin was down in his chest. His arms dangled at his side. His eyes were closed, except for the few peeks that he took to see what was happening. The German approached him and fixed his bayonet to his rifle. He didn’t plunge it into Chip – he only “probed” his torso below the ribcage. He did this three or four times, and determined that Chip must be dead. He didn’t try to cut him down or steal any equipment – that would have taken time, and one thing this German soldier didn’t have was time. So, he walked on by. Had he shone his flashlight on Chip’s face, he would have seen the sweat rolling down his face! So far, so good…he was still alive!

The next soldier who came along was an American – also with the 82nd. Chip recognized him and called out. He came over, cut Chip down from the tree, and they fought their way into St Mere Eglise, and eventually captured the town. It had been a harrowing night. Chip was now an old man -21 years old.

Chip shared a few more memories of the fight across Europe. Most of the 82nd went back to England and regrouped. They were pressed back into service in Christmas of 1944, as they were sent to Bastogne, Belgium to relieve American forces who were surrounded by German troops at the Bulge. The war was not won, and Hitler’s surprise counter-offensive, if successful, could have meant defeat for our soldiers. We could have easily lost the war.

The Battle of the Bulge was not like the Hollywood version. I’ve visited there while stationed in Germany. There are scenes in the movie “Patton”, or in “Band of Brothers” which are much more realistic. We lost 2,000 troops per day – most of them frozen to death. (talk about the price of freedom!) Snow blanketed the landscape. Chip was dug in waiting for the assault to come. It was below freezing. They had no winter uniforms, little to eat, little to drink and were low on ammunition. While there, He developed frostbite, and was taken to an aid station. These are medical facilities close to the front lines. He was diagnosed and sent further to the rear. They determined that the frostbite was so severe that they would have to amputate both feet! They prepped him for surgery and were wheeling him into the operating room when one of the medics noticed that his toes had moved. He immediately called for a Doc, and the Doc said “Get him out of here!” They continued to treat the frostbite, and his feet were saved. He soon went back, and eventually fought his way across Germany with the 82nd and 101st Airborne Brigades. When the war was over, he wasn’t allowed to go home right away.

Chip spent the last part of the war, and subsequent months in Berlin where he and some of the 82nd troops served as guards providing security for General Eisenhower’s headquarters. Chip relates one particularly interesting adventure when he was “on the gate” and General George (“Old Blood and Guts”) Patton drove up. Chip’s orders were to check everyone’s identification cards/papers. As Patton approached the gate, Chip came to attention, rendered a rifle salute, and asked General Patton for his identification. The General proceeded to let forth a string of expletives toward Chip, asking him if he knew who he was. Chip replied “Yes sir, General. Everyone in Europe – especially the Germans know who you are…but I still need to see some I.D.!” Patton continued his tirade, not realizing that Ike had pulled up behind him and was now standing over his shoulder. “Shut up George” Ike said, “…and show the young man your ID.” Patton begrudgingly showed Chip his ID, and Chip saluted him, Ike, and the rest of the entourage as the entered the headquarters…”

The stories went on into the afternoon. It was wonderful! Fascinated by what I had heard, I asked Uncle Chip “Have you ever told anyone about this?” His reply was “No…” I thanked him for his sacrifice and service to our country. Here was a real American hero, one of “the greatest generation”, who like so many, had kept silent about their war years. He simply stated that he did nothing more than any other soldier had done and stressed, as I’ve heard from so many of veterans like him say “we were just doing our job…the real heroes are those who didn’t come home…” I wanted to save these adventures for our future family. Chip’s children were dead. There was no one to pass these on to in his family. But, there was me, my brothers, my dad, and our children. There were others who would listen. They needed to hear about this. I hugged him, said “goodbye” and asked if I could come back soon, with a video camera, and talk about this some more. He assured me that he would love to do that! We had come from “I don’t want to talk about it” to full-circle. I drove back to Fort Walton Beach a better man.

The next week, I was in Birmingham to lead the huge memorial service for their Veteran’s Day celebration, which is the second-largest in the United States behind the one in Washington D.C. I spoke of Chip’s courage, of his service to our country, and of his silence in never telling his story to anyone. I reminded them that there were thousands like Chip, and that we were losing them at a terrible pace of 1,000 per day. I encouraged other vets with similar experiences to write down or video their adventures. Future generations would be the beneficiaries. I couldn’t wait to get back to Chip with a video camera.

One week later, I received a call from my Dad. Chip had died of complications from the surgery. I would have to live with only the oral history. But, a hero is still a hero. Rest in Peace, Uncle Chip…

Soli Deo Gloria, BG

Clarence A Gardner