 
The Colonel Who Couldn't Be One
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In Jerry Ray,s class there was a colonel, who he describes as being probably in his 50's rather small, and gray of head who was trying to be one. The colonel would put out his best effort and do his best but as Jerry puts it his mind was willing but his body failed him. He was rode hard by the cadre and one day Jerry and some other would be troopers while on a short break, observed the cadre surrounding the colonel. Jerry isn't sure if the Colonel quit or the cadre surveyed him out. Jerry could observe a tear coursing down the Colonel's cheek. The next morning the man was gone. I agree with Jerry that while we don't know why he was in jump school at that stage of the game (so he could have wings to wear prior to retiring? possible aid to promotion to Brigadier General?) , who knows but he earned the respect of the cadre and the men undergoing training for his efforts.
It may seem cruel to some who read this but that was the way it had to be, if you could not hack it, you were terminated. Jerry is sure and so am I that this man was a damned fine officer and had he made it would have been a credit to the airborne.
Lou Schreiner
Cowboys But No Indians At Baumholder
This is Speedy four Jerry Dale Ray's story about the lack of indians at Baumholder. He was short timing and our unit was at that edenic paradise known as Baumholder. Jerry's squad was doing a live fire and manuever exercise, his squad firing at a hill top, while another manuevered their way up the hill. Observing this was an Lt. we both recall who was a well built man, red hair and prone to fits of temper at times which you recognized by his turning beet red and yelling in a high pitched squeaky sort of a leg type voice. Don't get me wrong he was a great guy but another one of those characters who made up an airborne unit. His function that day was to grade the troops on this squad test and to insure that the men supplying the covering fire ceased fire before the other squad entered the danger zone. Jerry was popping rounds like crazy, running through bandoliers like Pancho Villa, his gun was red hot and smoking. He runs out of ammo and in that Tarheel drawl I loved so well, cries out as a joke, I need bullets, some one give me some more bullets. I NEED BULLETS YOU ALL.
The Lt. turns crimson red and sort of sounding like an enraged Mickey Mouse, hollers out, CEASE FIRE, WHO IS THAT MAN YELLING FOR BULLETS, BULLETS, sputter, sputter, BULLETS, WHAT HAVE I GOT HERE A LAME A - SED COWBOY, BULLETS MY GOD BULLETS, IT'S AMMO, BULLETS< WHO IS THAT MAN, SOUND OFF AT ONCE.
Course my fearless comrade was laughing hysterically as were the other troopers and being a former 325 leg wouldn't own up that it was him. Actually the LT. knew who it was but he knew Jerry was just being a typical short timing trooper having fun.
Lou Schreiner
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Was It Truly A Million Dollars Perhaps It Was
Listen up people and you shall hear the tale of the alleged million dollars worth of damage the 504 did to the EM club in Baumholder. Probably the actual amount was a dollar shy of that sum and besides troopers never ever exaggerate their yarns.
Seems during that Berlin Wall Crisis and many a trooper caught an extension on his tour behind it, the brass, sent a load of new leg PFC,s to Baumholder. Think there were a lot of reservists and maybe NG guys there. The 504 was in the club first and being quite thirsty had instinctively taken command of the high ground as infantrymen should. In this case the balcony type structure. The legs were clustered around the dance floor and band stand downstairs and they mistakenly requested a song for us "Hit The Road Jack And Don't Come Back No More". In the 504,s haste to leave since we were not wanted, many bottles, chairs,tables and a few legs rained down upon those woeful soldiers. Skirmishing took place all night long, with both the legs and those ersatz cops the M.P.,s and many a man was lumped up on both sides. I had scraped my knuckles in my haste to flee and J.D. had his watch broken by a cowardly leg who hit it with a rock thrown from a car smashing his $1.99 timepiece.
The ingrates who were in charge forever banned we thirsty troopers from the club and Colonel Marks had a helluva lot more to beat his gums about at his payday chats with the assembled troops who always ignored him and merely wished he would shut up and allow the eagle to s - - t.
Lou Schreiner
Thar Wuz Injuns In Them Thar Hills
Once upon a time in that land across the sea, known as Germany, a strange incident did occur. Be advised that the 504 troopers often suffered from a peculiar malady known as going Asiatic, even though we were stationed in Europe.
This occupational hazard one time chanced to smote the n.c.o.'s ranking from Plat Daddy on down to the lowest E-5 and possibly corporals who were former Sergeants ( oh they were many due to various and assorted pecadillos).
It was decided by most of them to sport a Mohawk haircut. Was this in remembrance of those D-Day jumpers who did so? Were they trying to rebel against Uncle Sam? Were they misbegotten would be trend setters?
When they and the rest of us rear ranking troopers fell out for reville next morn, that kindly loving, gentle, father of us all, 1st shirt Doty did cast a baleful and malevolent eye upon his hatless underlings and decried. "IF YOU GODAMNED PEOPLE EVER WANT TO GET OFF THIS BLANKETY BLANK RESERVATION BEST YOU GET YOUR BUTTS TO THE BARBER AND GET SQUARED AWAY FAST.
Lou Schreiner as reminded by J.D. Ray
When J.D. Ray Was Otter Bitten
Nay ye who perchance stop to read these bemused meanderings of two wizened old troopers, twas not that aquatic water creature, but it was that small aircraft designated "Otter" by dear old Uncle Sammy.
The army would shove 6 fully burdened troopers into said planes cargo hold. Instead of hooking up our static lines, we would hook them down to thingamabobs on the planes floor. To jump the craft one would scoot along the floor on ones butt, and weakly push off into space. Old J.D. did scoot, and feebly pushed off and OOPS, yon static line was under his left armpit. Ye who have leapt into space know the opening shock and J.D. thought his arm was torn off. He gracefully while in great pain made his normal sack of ssssh, er
his potato sack landing. In great pain he did lie, thinking of his lovely bride Betty and his mule back home to ease his pain. Dear old Sarge shouts to him, "Get up trooper, we got a problem to run." J. D. ignores this raspy voiced critter who then yells "I'll boot you in the a - s if you don't stand to boy". J.D. drawls in pain, "Ah hain't got but one arm but if'n ya'll try Ah will whip yo sorry A - s one armed or no".
Sarge apologizes, gets medics, they are happy, repair him sort of (no not just 2 aspirins). J.D. the actor slides for 2 months on profile. Into the EM club would he rove, longingly watch us down cokes, moan in a most pitiful fashion cadging drink after drink. After a bit we realized that his lame excuse of not being able to reach his wallet was a lie, once we remembered he was right handed, ended that con job.
To prove what a head case he was once he popped his reserve chute and insisted on jumping anyway, but the jumpmaster who was a bit of a nut himself made wisdom prevail, causing old J.D. to ignominously return to the airfield like the sorry 325 leg he had once been.
Lou Schreiner
I Met Sir Sgt. Mr. Airborne Burns, Sir, Sir, Sir
Perchance I met that stentorian voiced epitomy of the jump school cadre and airborne N.C.O.s while doing my training.
It was my turn to do pull ups, the bar which I believe was fiendishly designed for guys 9 feet tall. Us smaller but willing troopers would step onto an itty bitty piece of wood mounted on the side of the bar, leap mightily into the air hoping to grasp the pull up bar. There I would hang usually by my finger tips awaiting the Sgt. to order me to begin. This dismal day there he stood with that devilish smile of his observing me for I felt like 5 minutes just a dangling there. COMMENCE PULL UPS SOLDIER. So there I am pulling up and sounding off the number one, two etc. Suddenly he roars, that's three leg, then three leg, then three leg, I don't know how many times. Quivering and straining, I loose my finger tip grip and fall in a lump on the ground. GIT UP LEG ,GIT UP QUITTER , REPOTE TO YO TOON SGT., TELL HIM SGT. BURNS SEZ YOU ARE A QUITTER, MOVE OUT LEG, ON THE DOUBLE. Off I go feeling low, report to Sgt. Conway, give him Sgt. Burn's message. He looks me up and down and sneers, you wanna quit leg? Beggingly I damn near start to cry and tell him how my pull ups did not meet Sgt. Burn's satisfaction and that I slipped from the bar and hadn't quit. Tells me boy, I'i gonna be watching you and so will Lover Burns (I think lover?). After graduation and reflecting on all that had happened, I realized the methods to their madness and felt then as I do today. YOU PEOPLE WERE THE BEST SGTS. THERE EVER WAS.
Lou Schreiner
Civilian Ray Meets Forever Sgt. Burns
J.D. Ray, my old running partner told me the following story of when he met Sgt. Mr. Always And Forever Sgt. Burns. That title is not meant to be mocking because that man was and always will be Mr. Airborne.
J.D. was out of the army and got a temporary job as a uniformed security guard. I can't decipher my hurried scratches and we are running up huge phone bills, so if I read this right, it was a job at a ball field. On the 3rd day or so he hears a familar baritone voice woofing about something, without turning around he knew it was Sgt. Burns. Jerry looks and as he says sho nuff wuz him. He smiles at Mr. civilian Sgt. of security Burns who says do I know you. Jerry says, yes I went to your jump school. Burns says was you in one of my platoons, Jerry says no sir. Burns says but I bet you heard me and laughs. Jerry says damn straight. He and Jerry shook hands 20 or 25 times and Mr. Airborne kept patting him on the back. Burns said those were the times and Jerry agreed. Later on Jerry sees Sgt. Burns has a dozen or so kids of all sizes and colors lined up and is chewing them out in that fog horn voice we recall so well. Sgt. Burns with that devilish smile yells out to the kids, "Now dammit when Ah say dismissed, You Best double time on inside and watch the game, but if you ever tell anyone I let you in for free, I WILL KILL YOU'ALL.
As told to me by Jerry Ray
Lou Schreiner
Go To Your Room
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There was an LT who used to annoy me and since he was a West Pointer, I would cunningly bust his chops by speaking to him in the third person. Such as if the lieutenant desires, etc.
One day after Colonel "Old Lady" Marks huffed and puffed his usual banter re Awols, DR reports, drinking, etc. he then sicced the rest of the brass on us to reinforce his nonsense to us troopers. This LT gathers a bunch of us in Speedy Five Boylans room and is yakking up the colonels patter. Says If the good Lieutenant can would he explain to me why if we are airborne, rough, tough, know our stuff, what's the big deal if we kick leg or kraut a - s downtown? Says, hey if we were at war nobody would care if you stuck one with your switchblade, like you NY hoodlums carry. I say, well thegood lieutenant fails to dig that I'm more of a zip gun man, highly trained in its use back on the block in Brooklyn. He glowers, sticks out his chest, deepens his voice in that West Point manner and yells at me, "Go to your room, I've heard enough of your crap today". So being the good trooper I was I go to my room, muttering and cursing up a storm about how a lot of these guys oughta be legs. The chickenshit ba - t - - - s.
Geez, my dad was hard on me at times but never not never did he tell me to go to my room. Sure a boot in the behind well deserved I might add, but go to your room?
Lou Schreiner
More Handy G.I. German Phrases
Essen mine schwantz kraut.
Das ist ein gross er scheiss.
Haben zee marks doom cuff?
Vas ist do nom men schmuck.
Beer ist preema.
Fall schirm yay ger ist preema.
Do bist ein arschluck.
Lecken mine arsch luger head hump.
Do bist ein schwein hoonte do arschluck.
Bitter zane.
Nicks goot.
All es goot.
Der dirtch er mannen ist scheisse.
Alla mannen ist scheisse.
Feeke deke.
Do bist ein schnay broonzer.
Do bist ein schnotter gans
Can You Recall
A trooper whomping another trooper who was highly disliked with a genuine Irish shilelagh and another trooper asking what the hell all of that thumping was and upon being informed he said oh give him one for me
When we jumped in Pau, France ran the manuevers, go to Chatterraux and either weather delays or plane maintenace cause us to stay there and someone makes arrangments for us to chow down in the airforce mess hall. Go in around 2200 hours, grimey, tired, lugging all them guns, flyboy enlisted guys gape at us like we are from Mars, we gape cause it looks like a night club, grab trays, actual plates, real cups, choice of one of two or three types of meat and so on. Troopers grunt and point ask and get one of each three.
Always trying sometimes suceeding in swiping the airforce emergency flight rations while your buddy distracted the crew chief and how they considered boned chicken an emergency ration. Damn was that tasty.
The jump we made hanging around waiting for the trucks to pick us up. Old comrade and his wife plowing his field with one of them humungous horses. She stops, lays under a tree, goes into labor, we watch, medics have no clue, kraut keeps on a plowing, she has the baby boy. bites the umbilical cord, knots it, nurses the kid after a bit, hour later kid is wrapped in some sort of sack cloth, she goes back to plowing with her old man.
The time that E 1/504 marched up there in Baumholder, most of one day, all that night, most of the next day for some reason or another. I in my jeep took a lot of harassment from my buddies who refered to me and the gun crew as legs.
The time the entire 504 made a forced march (me too) no vehicles except to pick up the lame and lazy from Baumholder back to Mainz Think it was three days, forced march
The fun of being in the last squad on a march that old accordion effect stop, go slow, stop, run to catch up. Ah the joys of the airborne infantry.
Lou Schreiner
Some Motor Marches Remember When
Heading down to Hohenfels or Wildflecken or some other place, 4 or 5 cooks sacked out under a tarp, in the mess truck. Stop for a p - - s call, someone raps on the truck no response check them out, get them on their feet walk them all around, carbon monoxide poisoning, luckily they all recovered but were harassed for months afterwards by their buddies.
Once we leave in the middle of the night, somewhere in the Tannes Mountains, we are in one of those crawl along convoys, although I had had plenty of rest, the tail lights in front of me were putting me in a trance, I start to nod at the wheel, Sgt. Cunningham wakes me asks whats wrong you idiot you almost drove us off a cliff. Tell him he drives rest of way. Wakes me when we arrive where ever the hell we went I get annoyed cause I was in the middle of a dream about Brooklyn.
The time they decide to have some of us learn to drive APCs (not me) one guy takes down comrades stoop on a sharp curve in one of them small towns.
Another guy decides (I assume he did) to pay a call on comrade and drives his APC into old rads living room. Lousy kraut never even offered anyone a flip top or nothing. Just kept jumping up and down screaming. Oh well, auf widersehn lugerhead.
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