The Victors: Eisenhower and His Boys : The Men of World War II Read Online Free PDF

night, sit on the bed of his batman (aide), Cpl. Billy Gray, and talk soccer with the lads. He got to bringing his boots along and shining them as he talked.  Wally Parr never got over the sight of a British lieutenant polishing his boots himself while his batman lay back on his bed, gassing on about Manchester United and West Ham and other soccer teams.
    Howard’s biggest problem was boredom. He racked his brains to find different ways of doing the same things, to put some spontaneity into the training. His young heroes had many virtues, but patience was not one of them. The resulting morale problem extended far beyond D Company, obviously, and in late summer 1942, General Browning sent the whole regiment to Devonshire for two months of cliff climbing. He then decided to march the regiment back to Bulford, some 130 miles. Naturally, it would be a competition between the companies.  The first two days were the hottest of the summer, and the men were marching in serge, wringing wet. After the second day they pleaded for permission to change to lighter gear. It was granted, and over the next two days a cold, hard rain beat down on their inadequately covered bodies.  Howard marched up and down the column, urging his men on. He had a walking stick, an old army one with an inch of brass on the bottom. His company clerk and wireless operator, Cpl. Edward Tappenden, offered the major the use of his bike. “Not likely,” Howard growled. “I’m leading my company.” His hands grew more blisters than Tappenden’s feet, from his grip on the stick, and he wore away all the brass on the end of it. But he kept marching.  On the morning of the fourth day, when Howard roused the men and ordered them to fall in, Wally Parr and his friend Pvt. Jack Bailey waddled out on their knees.  When Howard asked them what they thought they were doing Wally replied that he and Jack had worn away the bottom half of their legs. But they got up and marched. “Mad bastard,” the men whispered among themselves after Howard had moved off. “Mad, ambitious bastard. He’ll get us all killed.” But they marched.  They got back to base on the evening of the fifth day. They marched in at 140 steps to the minute, singing loudly, “Onward, Christian Soldiers.” They came in first in the regiment, by half a day. Only two of Howard’s men out of 120 had dropped out of the march. (His stick, however, was so worn he had to throw it away.)
    Howard had radioed ahead, and had hot showers and meals waiting for the men. As the officers began to undress for their showers, Howard told them to button up.  They had to go do a foot inspection of the men, then watch to make sure they all showered properly, check on the quality and quantity of their food, and inspect the barracks to see that the beds were ready. By the time the officers got to shower, the hot water was gone; by the time they got to eat, only cold leftovers remained. But not one of them had let Howard down.  “From then on,” Howard recalled, “we didn’t follow the normal pattern of training.” His colonel gave him even more flexibility, and the transport to make it meaningful. Howard started taking his company to Southampton, or London, or Portsmouth, to conduct street-fighting exercises in the bombed-out areas. There were plenty to choose from, and it did not matter how much damage D Company did, so all the exercises were with live ammunition.  Howard was putting together an outstanding light-infantry company.  Howard also set out, on his own, to make D Company into a first-class night-fighting unit. It was not that he had any inkling that he might be landing at night, but rather he reckoned that once in combat, his troops would be spending a good deal of their time fighting at night. He was also thinking of a favorite expression in the German army that he had heard: “The night is the friend of no man.” In the British army the saying was that “the German does not like to fight at