 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
 |
Upstarts
Pvt. Levine was not qualified for any particular job in the artillery, nor, I suspect,
the infantry for which he was trained. He was, however, both literate and articulate, and
like Conrad's Lord Jim, he had "ability in the abstract." He was handed a clipboard and
paper, given a short briefing on how to note what was going on and the exact time each
event took place, given a synchronized watch, and put to work. He was not part of the S-2
Section, and I was not technically responsible for him (I believe he belonged to the
Sergeant Major and ultimately the Battalion Executive), but it turned out that my section
was the best location for him to observe the action and write it down.
Never was there a more fortunate assignment. Levine was a quick study: he
grasped the fundamentals of the job at once, and although he stayed inconspicuous most
of the time, he had the necessary nosiness to ferret out what information he needed to jot
down, and enough chutzpa to demand details from anyone who had them. He would drive
Capt Thomson wild when, at the end of a move into a new location, he was trying to get
the survey data plotted on the firing chart so we could start shooting, Levine would sidle
up beside him and demand to know the map coordinates of each battery.
Nor did he hesitate to grab the battalion commander by the arm as he headed for
his jeep and ask. "Where are you going, Major? When do you expect to be back?"
Colonel Costain probably would not have put up with such impertinence, but Major
Peach was more easy going. Besides, having a journal clerk had been his idea.
At the time, I thought it odd that an artillery unit should get infantrymen as
replacements, but now that I look back on it, I realize that the G-1,' (personnel) people
had requisitioned only infantry replacements because they figured that most of the killed
and wounded would be in the infantry.
How right they were! All during the first two months of combat, reports rolled in
daily - even hourly - of infantry companies losing men (killed, wounded, or missing) by
the dozens.
Too high a percentage of those lost were raw replacements like Levine. Since the
front-line infantry rifle companies were fighting throughout the daylight hours, they got
their bewildered replacements after dark, where, amid strange sounds, smells, and
looming dark shapes and shadows, they were assigned to squads and briefed in whispers,
prior to jumping off in an attack at dawn. Many a man was killed before he had seen his
squad leader's face. One could hardly blame the squad leaders, either: the infantry rifle
squad of WW II had twelve men, an impossible number for anyone leader to keep track
of in the confusion of combat, let alone in the dark.
Before long the insanity of this policy was evident, and the method was revised.
Infantry replacements were withheld until a unit was in reserve (not on the front
lines). Then the newcomers were sent in by daylight and given some time to get
acquainted and adjusted before the unit was committed again. Of course that meant that
front-line rifle units might have to fight under-strength for a few days until they were in
reserve and could get their new men. But strangely enough, rifle squads turned out to be
more effective with only three or four men who knew what they were doing and could be
controlled by the squad leader than when they had all twelve men, especially when half of
them were green.
58
|
 |
|