Remembering a Veteran’s Sacrifice
By Wayne Kirkbride
The squad of five special forcemen had done their assigned task. This mission was similar to several others they had been on, earning their unit the name the Germans called “The Black Devils”, or “The Devils Brigade”. Parachuting at night behind the German lines in Italy, the group had taken out the three sentries guarding the fuel and ammunition dump and planted their plastic explosives with a timer that would allow them to be far away when it went off. They were several miles away when they heard the explosions. As daybreak was approaching, the five knew the Germans would be sending out patrols to look for them. Coming across a farmhouse, they decided to hide themselves in stacks of straw in the field. Soon they could see German vehicles approaching and soldiers and officers approaching the farmhouse and looking around. They looked at the stacks of straw in the fields, but hesitated to inspect closer. They could hear them talking among themselves, then left the area and moved on. It soon became apparent why the Germans didn’t inspect the straw in which the five had taken refuge. The straw was ridden with lice. When the five emerged from the straw at nightfall when it was safe to move again, they were infested with the lice. When they made it back to their own lines, they had to strip off all their clothing and burn them and shave off all their hair and be de-loused.
A few days later, the same team of five was sent on another mission under cover of darkness. Army intelligence knew of something going on at nighttime on the German side, because trucks could be heard steadily moving. The five made their way to the site of the enemy’s activities and found the Germans building concrete storage spaces where they could store weapons, ammunition and fuel. The group knew they had to get this information back to their headquarters. As dawn broke, the group was traveling around a small hill when they heard, “putt, putt, putt”. They knew that was the sound of a mortar being fired but where was it being fired? Within seconds they knew – the rounds impacted among the five soldiers. One in particular, was thrown into the air, coming down feeling numb all over. His legs were shredded with shrapnel and his left arm suffered a compound fracture, severing some of the cords in the arm that led to his fingers. The others were wounded badly as well, but all survived. They waited for the Germans to capture them, but apparently they thought the five were finished and didn’t bother to investigate. Unable to move, they used their first aid kits and used morphine syringes to ease their pain. For three days they waited to be found by search parties. By the time they were found, the one with the wounded legs and fractured arm had gangrene setting in.
In a hospital in Naples, operations were performed on the wounded soldier and most of the shrapnel removed from his legs. Maggot packs were used in his wounds to eat out the rotten flesh – another ordeal. From there he was transported to a hospital in North Africa where he spent three months recuperating. His fighting days were over, but he was assigned to a depot in Naples that got supplies to units in Rome. His old unit, the Special Services Force led the invasion of France.
When the war was over, and he was once again a civilian, he married, raised a family, and went on with a productive life. He never fully recovered from his wounds and some shrapnel remains in his legs to this day. Today, in his late 80s he still suffers leg and arm pain – reminders of the personal sacrifice he, like so many others made to secure the world from tyranny. He is my uncle, and I’m proud of him and those men who fought for the freedom this country’s armed forces and our allies achieved.
