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Upstarts
One of his assistants was the aptly named Sgt John S. Haydock (pronounced Hey,
Doc!), a well-qualified senior non-com who liked to tell anyone who would listen the sad
story that he was a doctor himself, kept from becoming an officer by a sinister
conspiracy. His tone implied that Doc Davis was a co-conspirator.
"What he won't tell you," Davis pointed out, "is that he is an osteopath!" He
pronounced the word with all the scorn that the medical profession feels for homeopaths,
chiropractors, faith healers, acupuncturists, and other rival disciplines in the healing arts.
[I
have been told by doctors of osteopathy (D.O.) that they have to take a doctoral course
as long and rigorous as that of an M. D. However, they were not recognized by the U. S.
Army. So Sgt Doctor Haydock had a legitimate complaint, but Doc Davis had nothing to
do with it.]
Another member of the Medical Detachment, Corporal Henry Zirngibl, was a
great letter-writer. He belonged to a small but devout religious sect, and he wrote long
epistles to other members, perhaps on the order of the ones St. Paul wrote to the
Corinthians, Thessalonians, et al. Lt Rodman, who had to read and censor all correspon-
dence written by the enlisted men in the Medical Detachment as well as Hq Btry, hated
him because in addition to his own writing, he got equally long letters in response, and he
tended to pass them on as enclosures to his letters, so they had to be censored too. But the
man was a conscientious medic who did his job, and Doc Davis found him most valuable.
I suspect that Lt Davis looked forward to combat. Not that he wanted anyone to
be wounded, but it would give him a chance to do his stuff.
But it did not turn out that way. Certainly we took casualties, but very few men
were wounded in our battalion area. Most of the casualties were among the forward
observer and liaison parties, up with the infantry, where people did get wounded. A lot.
And because they got wounded when up with the infantry, it would not have
made sense to transport them back to us for medical care. They were treated by the
infantry's medics, often evacuated to hospitals in the rear before we even heard about it.
Doc Davis was simply not included in the chain.
He did get an occasional chance. We were still in Normandy when one afternoon
our command post was shelled heavily by German artillery. Everybody ducked, into
foxholes or slit trenches if they had them, flat on the ground if they did not. There was the
usual wise guy who raised his head long enough to shout, "Hey, cut out that damn'
foolishness. Somebody is liable to get hurt!”
That was good for a nervous laugh, and it broke the tension. But when it was all
over and the smoke had drifted away, Doc Davis did have one patient. Ironically, it was
his own medic, the religious letter writer Zirngibl. He got a shell fragment, which
destroyed one eye, and Doc had to evacuate him.
Lt Rodman, the censor, refused to mourn.
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