manta22
Banned
From my post on my FB page:
"Beware the Ides of March!"- The old Soothsayer, "Julius Caesar, William Shakespeare.
On March 15, 1962 Joe Pinto, a fellow GI in my Corporal Missile detachment, received a message to go to the Red Cross office in Ashaffenburg, about 25 km from our kaserne in Babenhausen. Our shop Sergeant, SSGT Roberto Garcia, assigned Joe a jeep and told me to accompany him there.
It was a cold winter and there had been few warm days so far that year. It was still early in the morning when we started out from the motor pool in the jeep, an M38A1 model, with Joe driving and me riding as a passenger. Out of the kaserne main gate we turned right on Route 26, the road toward Ashaffenburg. It was cold and the canvas top of he jeep provided little protection against the bitter wind blast as we drove on.
At a point where the road entered the forest, the pavement was in the shadow of the trees, no sunshine had yet warmed the roadway so it was a shock when the jeep suddenly spun to the left. Joe turned the steering wheel quickly but then it spun back and repeated this maneuver again. It was "black ice", a perfectly clear, invisible coating of ice. We slid sideways toward the edge of the shoulder and I could see trees fast approaching my side of the jeep. I had a vision of a fatal impact with a tree just before things totally blanked out. It's strange how a person's mind can erase a moment of panic, probably as a way of protecting ones self.
The next thing I knew, I was lying on my back, under the overturned jeep; it had hit the dirt going sideways and had literally rolled around me. I was lying between the bottom seat cushion and the flattened canvas top, squashed down on the frozen ground below.
Had it not been for the spare tire mounted on the back and a large radio above the right rear fender holding up the jeep just far enough, I would not have survived. My right foot was trapped between the flattened windshield, cowl and the ground so I could not escape and gas was starting to leak out of the fuel tank.
I looked for Joe and saw that he was in far worse shape than I was. He was lying on his back, face up with the jeep's cowl lying on his head! I thought he must be dead as he was lying perfectly still and not breathing. I struggled to free my boot without success.
Suddenly, two faces appeared under the jeep, speaking German. Another car had seen the accident and had managed to stop and came to our aid. Then two American GIs in a "Duce-and-a-Half" (a 2 1/2 ton Army truck) also stopped to help. One of the GIs grabbed a mattock from his truck and dug the frozen ground from under my boot and I scrambled out from under.
Together we all lifted the jeep up and one of the Germans dragged Joe from under the jeep. His face was crushed in and he was bleeding back down into his lungs, filling them with blood. Joe Pinto owes his life to this unknown German who knew that under these circumstances, a patient must be turned up on his side rather than lying on his back so the blood only goes into one lung instead of both. I assume this must have been something he learned during the War. It had been only twelve years after the end of WW II and here was a German who was saving the life of an American, a truly kind act on his part.
Somehow an ambulance was dispatched from Babenhausen and it slid a hundred feet to a stop on the ice. Joe was quickly taken back to the Kaserne dispensary where a doctor performed an emergency tracheotomy and he was flown by helicopter to the 97th General Hospital in Frankfurt. He was treated and pulled through although his injuries required a long recovery. I was lucky, I walked with crutches for long enough to grow to hate them but otherwise I was OK.
If a Soothsayer ever tells you "Beware the Ides of March"... believe him!
"Beware the Ides of March!"- The old Soothsayer, "Julius Caesar, William Shakespeare.
On March 15, 1962 Joe Pinto, a fellow GI in my Corporal Missile detachment, received a message to go to the Red Cross office in Ashaffenburg, about 25 km from our kaserne in Babenhausen. Our shop Sergeant, SSGT Roberto Garcia, assigned Joe a jeep and told me to accompany him there.
It was a cold winter and there had been few warm days so far that year. It was still early in the morning when we started out from the motor pool in the jeep, an M38A1 model, with Joe driving and me riding as a passenger. Out of the kaserne main gate we turned right on Route 26, the road toward Ashaffenburg. It was cold and the canvas top of he jeep provided little protection against the bitter wind blast as we drove on.
At a point where the road entered the forest, the pavement was in the shadow of the trees, no sunshine had yet warmed the roadway so it was a shock when the jeep suddenly spun to the left. Joe turned the steering wheel quickly but then it spun back and repeated this maneuver again. It was "black ice", a perfectly clear, invisible coating of ice. We slid sideways toward the edge of the shoulder and I could see trees fast approaching my side of the jeep. I had a vision of a fatal impact with a tree just before things totally blanked out. It's strange how a person's mind can erase a moment of panic, probably as a way of protecting ones self.
The next thing I knew, I was lying on my back, under the overturned jeep; it had hit the dirt going sideways and had literally rolled around me. I was lying between the bottom seat cushion and the flattened canvas top, squashed down on the frozen ground below.
Had it not been for the spare tire mounted on the back and a large radio above the right rear fender holding up the jeep just far enough, I would not have survived. My right foot was trapped between the flattened windshield, cowl and the ground so I could not escape and gas was starting to leak out of the fuel tank.
I looked for Joe and saw that he was in far worse shape than I was. He was lying on his back, face up with the jeep's cowl lying on his head! I thought he must be dead as he was lying perfectly still and not breathing. I struggled to free my boot without success.
Suddenly, two faces appeared under the jeep, speaking German. Another car had seen the accident and had managed to stop and came to our aid. Then two American GIs in a "Duce-and-a-Half" (a 2 1/2 ton Army truck) also stopped to help. One of the GIs grabbed a mattock from his truck and dug the frozen ground from under my boot and I scrambled out from under.
Together we all lifted the jeep up and one of the Germans dragged Joe from under the jeep. His face was crushed in and he was bleeding back down into his lungs, filling them with blood. Joe Pinto owes his life to this unknown German who knew that under these circumstances, a patient must be turned up on his side rather than lying on his back so the blood only goes into one lung instead of both. I assume this must have been something he learned during the War. It had been only twelve years after the end of WW II and here was a German who was saving the life of an American, a truly kind act on his part.
Somehow an ambulance was dispatched from Babenhausen and it slid a hundred feet to a stop on the ice. Joe was quickly taken back to the Kaserne dispensary where a doctor performed an emergency tracheotomy and he was flown by helicopter to the 97th General Hospital in Frankfurt. He was treated and pulled through although his injuries required a long recovery. I was lucky, I walked with crutches for long enough to grow to hate them but otherwise I was OK.
If a Soothsayer ever tells you "Beware the Ides of March"... believe him!
auer Tor. I told the owner that I had been there 50 years ago and he insisted in buying us beers.
