
A Partridge In A Pear Tree
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As I have mentioned before, we former troopers are always running into the I wuz one but really weren't guys constantly. It seems my old cohort while plying his trade suffered a motor break down. Twas while he was awaiting assistance dispatched by his company, another motorist also suffered a break down. This chap whom J.D. says was around 25 or so starts talking to him and mentions that he was a former Marine. Ole J.D. sly rebel that he is had already sensed this guy was a windbag and says to him hear tell they are a tough outfit. Guy says hell yes and tells Jerry he was Force Recon. J.D. says wow they jump out of planes don't they. The wuzn't guy says you bet. Jerry asks you jump much. Guy says he had over 3000 jumps, 300 combat drops, including 3 in downtown Baghdad.Jerry is overawed and speechless. Guy is really strutting now. Jerry suffers these fools much better than I do and keeps his cool. Guy asks J.D. you been in the service. Jerry says oh yeah I was a paratrooper for three years but didn't make as many jumps as you and none in combat. Guy says oh look nice talking to you I gotta make a phone call. J.D. says, sure Happy PLFs pal. Jerry says as the guy was yakking up his I wuz one tales the part of the 12 days of Christmas carol kept running through his mind about and a partridge in a pear tree. Ah yes, this fella also had hisself as the rebs say 12 or 13 Purple Hearts, 8 Silver Stars, and 5 Bronze Stars. Jerry D. Ray as told to Lou Schreiner
The Legg At The 82nd Airborne Museum
Recently when me and my ole rebel buddy J.D. Ray roamed about the confines of our old base, Fort Bragg, we visited the museum. In a display case we noted a fatigue shirt neatly folded in a military fashion that displayed the following;A Lieutenant Colonels silver leaf, and a name tag that distinctly read "Legg." We laughed a bit and thought of the abuse and jokes that this officer must have put up with based on his last name during his career. I can hear and see the troopers as they neared him, throwing him an airborne highball and roaring out "Morning Colonel Legg, sir." The flak he must have put up with from his brother officers must have been worthy of a book in itself regarding his name and the yuks he must have drawn. Imagine him at a prop blast party and hearing remarks such as hey Legg get over here. Down that brewski Legg or get down and knock out 20, etc. Sir, we salute you. Lou Schreiner &J.D. Ray
Forever Airborne
On 17 August 2000 a former 82nd Airborne man was manifested by the Big Jumpmaster in the sky to fill out his paratrooper roster. On the 16th day of August one of his soon to be chosen troopers made a parachute jump to celebrate the opening of the Airborne and Special Operations Museum in Fayetteville, North Carolina. He suffered a fatal heart attack shortly thereafter. This former wartime trooper of the 82nd Airborne Division had made four combat drops during the second world war. He jumped into the unknown at Sicily, Salerno, Normandy, and Holland. During the Normandy campaign he was wounded in the leg and had his helmet shot off his head. He jumped into Normandy again to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the invasion of France. The airborne tradition of his family lives on in the guise of his grandson LLoyd Runser of Lima, Ohio who completed jump school at Fort Benning last year and had his wings pinned on by this man. Runser is a graduate of West Point last June. This forever airborne man was Arnold "Dutch" Nagel, aged 78 years young when called to duty by the Big Jumpmaster. He was the recipient of the Purple Heart, Bronze Star, and Combat Infantry Badge. Our heartfelt sympathy to his surviving family. J.D. Ray and I knew him not but we know the caliber of men such as he was. In addition to our prayers for him and his family we thank you sir for the sacrifices you made for all Americans during WWII. May you always have soft PLFs with your new unit. Amen Lou Schreiner & J.D. Ray
Hi Troops, It is a small world, just got this from Ranger Buck. Lou: I was just on the 504th site that you run and I read the story of Dutch Nagel. I didn't know he had died. Very sad. May God be him. A bit of trivia for you to further illustrate how we share some strange cosmic connection----old Dutch proudly jumped with the other WWII vets into the commencement ceremonies of the 50th anniversary in June 1994. Well, he found a current 82d jumpmaster to sign his parachute log book that afternoon. The 82d jumpmaster said to Mr. Nagel, "Sir, it would be my honor to sign your log book." The two paratroopers representing both old and new generation laughed and took a photo of the event. Guess who signed Mr. Nagel's book that afternoon in front of the church in Ste Mere Eglise 6 June 94.............................. SSG Robert Buck I have the picture with me at the moment, I am glad I was able to share one moment of Dutch's life - what a man, what a trooper. God Speed Dutch, happy landings my friend.
For those that don't know Buck he is now a CW3
Airborne,
Lou
Philosophical Troopers
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Every now and again there would arise among various groups of troopers while imbibing of the local beverages (tea or cokes) a discussion regarding their status in the military. Sometimes they would sound quite philosophical in their slurred arguments as to who they were. Many opted that they were indeed the masters of the big iron birds, but others maintained this was not truly so since more than likely, each variety of iron bird they leapt from had seen a trooper killed or seriously injured. Therefore it would be false to call themselves masters of these big iron birds. A few who were of a more romantic and archaic bent such as myself readily agreed with me that we were akin to the knights of old. I proposed this while influenced by Sir Steinhager but the thought had always been in mind. My obtuse thinking along these lines was that we rode these iron birds just as the knights rode their steeds. Did not many troopers such as myself wear their sweethearts scarves around their necks as the knights tied their ladies colors to their lances? Did we not shout a battle cry as we leapt into space, while true not all were fit to be repeated in the presence of wives or sweethearts did not the knights also shout the names of saints as they journeyed forth? Many other similarities did I envision between us and knights of old but by this time before I could voice them - - - -alas and alack I was always shouted down and told have another drink, you are getting wackier everyday. Lou Schreiner
The Cuckoo And The Donkey
Several times in relating these madcap ramblings of mine and Jerrys while serving with the 504th, I have made reference to those shrieking cuckoo birds that dwelt in the forests of Germany. While pondering these creatures during a recent visit with Jerry Ray he wholeheartedly agreed with me that as I have previously stated no matter how used to them you were, when they cut loose they always scared the hell out of you and made you start. Just recently I have started fooling around with my guitar again which I have not touched in years (practicing to serenade someone whom I idiotically mentioned my limited strumming abilities to) a song I learned in the 4th or 5th grade burst into my limited brain for no apparent reason. The title of this song may be "The Cuckoo And The Donkey" then again maybe it is not. However, in this song they are arguing which one could sing more sweetly in praise of lovely spring. Having heard both of these beasts sound off one in a braying manner reminiscent of a whiskey voiced top kick and the other in a shrill manner like a newly coined 2nd looey, I question the sanity or the sobriety of whoever wrote this ditty. Adding to this my voice which was never musical in nature and has grown worse with the passage of time I query which of the three of us would win honors in this category. Since we are presently in the midst of summer this allows anyone foolish enough to read these bemused twists and turns of a former troopers mind the insight as to why we troopers comported ourselves in an uncivil manner at times. But be assured that these slips of our gears were only temporary and we were and are the best of the lot. AIRBORNE. Lou Schreiner
It Wasn't All Fun And Games By No Means
Recently it was brought to my attention and to my jumping partner Jerry Ray that it seems like you guys never did anything but party. To that I must respond that this was not the case. All or rather most of the people I've ever dealt with in life try to gloss over the bad and tend to remember the good in their lives. Taking that as a given, understand that a lot of the previous tales had a lot of pain and hurt in them and were not all laughs. As far as a constant party we in the 504 and our brother jumpers in the 505 spent well over half our time in the field doing infantry type things. There was always the elements, rain, wind, cold, snow, hail, heat, thirst, hunger, dog-tiredness, lack of sleep, you name the woe or misery and it was there for the taking. Digging in was a chore in itself. The gun jeeps had to be concealed and usually one had to dig two alternate firing positions as well. On the go sometimes 24 hours or better, then a broken nights sleep for after all one had to pull guard duty while ones comrades slept. There is a photo one of my buddies took of me at the height of a combined hail and snow storm accompanied by piercing cold winds down around Hohenfels in 1961, that if one looks at my face and hunched shoulders though clad in all my winter garb clearly depicts the lack of fun we had during "Operation Wintershield" Oh it had its highlights such as the Morrocan raid and the Kraut soldier but mostly there was no joy to be had in those frozen boondocks. Lou Schreiner

Officers and Non-Coms And Other Sundries
am the first to admit that the majority of the officers and non-coms I met and dealt with while in the United States Army were first class leaders and men. However, there were some who were martinets, some ate up with what they perceived to be their superiority, and some dumber than a brick but having the rank to do their will. One NCO supply sergeant I dealt with would not let me out of his supply room without signing a chit to pay for a blanket (All my gear was stolen while I was in the stockade) even though he knew that all of my gear had been replaced by my platoon N.C.O.s scrounging. I heard one of our N.C.O.s punched him out for this transgression also someone (I wonder who) ice-picked all four of the sidewalls of his tires on his car. Another Sergeant who knowing it angered me always deliberately pronounced my name Schweiner (His idea of jokingly calling me a pig), since he was a SFC he could get away with it but since his head had a peculiar shape I labeled him Jiminy Cricket and it stuck with the troops. Someone told him I started this nick name and he threatened to run me up before the old man. I told him I couldn't care less, jail me it machts nicht to me (luckily either he didn't take me up on it or another N.C.O. told him not to be a jackass. Being forced to part with some of our meager pay for various charities before you could get a pass. Since I dislike the Red Cross (see story) I tried to hold out on principle but several days of KP showed me the error of my ways. White glove inspections finding dust or dirt regardless of the rooms cleanliness (how childish) done to what purpose? Strange officers who would try to sneak up on you while you were on guard duty and even if you were alert and challenged them berating you for not having spied them sooner. Mayhap a shooting or a bayonet in their butt or a butt stroke to the head would have cured this ludicrous game. Lou Schreiner
Mitunder Vot I Said
Usually I did not let on to the inhabitants of Germany that I had a smattering of their language although I admit I understood it better than I spoke it. My folks were German born and it was spoken in my house before the war but very rarely during or after it. I preferred to eavesdrop on them maintaining a poker face at some of their digs at us troopers, then discreetly informing my buddies who would then convince them of the foolishness of their disparaging remarks regarding us. Every now and again usually when three sheets to the wind I would engage them in their native tongue. Most enjoyed the effort to converse with them in German. But, and there is always a but, some would pretend they had no clue to what I was saying. I iterate that my German was not the best but it was by no means incomprehensible nor barbaric. Once I realized that for whatever reason I was being given the old I don't understand mitunder vot I said, I and sometimes with my buddies would beat some understanding into their thick skulls. Lou Schreiner
Sometimes
Quite often both in times of war and peace airborne troopers sometimes had to improvise in order to accomplish their mission. Perhaps for a mundane reason, perhaps for one that was critical to their mission or sometimes to ease their lot in life. Sometimes it was against the enemy or sometimes against the "Chairborne Corps" who plagued them at times. I have taken the liberty to relate the following incident that John McKenzie mentions in his book "On Time On Target" which is about the 82nd Airborne Division in WWII (This is a great book for troopers and non-troopers alike) and concerns an incident that occurred on 18 December 1944. I love this tale since it involves the "Chairborne and the Ersatz Gestapo both. When the division had to move out during the Battle of The Bulge they only had about 20% of the vehicles needed. A group of noncoms from each battalion went to a nearby SHAEF motor pool to solve their problem. Lacking written orders the "Chairborne" officers refused them. Being armed and imbued with that "Airborne All The Way Spirit" they arrested not only the officers but the MPs who guarded the motor pool. They confiscated 500 trucks and kidnapped 300 drivers in order to carry out their mission. Naturally I was not present when this occurred but I would like to point out that I had heard of this requisition prior to reading about it in this book. Mr. McKenzie former trooper 456th Parachute Field Artillery Battalion, 505th Parachute Regimental Combat Team, 82nd Airborne Division you were one of the best and we thank you and your brothers in arms for their service and sacrifice for us during WWII. Lou Schreiner & Jerry D. Ray
NEW MUSEUM: Paratroopers, Past and Present
Our new museum, built to honor airborne and special operations, is seven acres; it has a parade ground in front and a memorial garden behind it...Cost: 22.5 million
Inside: A 46-foot CG-FA Waco Glider with a jeep emerging from the nose...The museum is a five-story atrium that has exposed steel girders shaped to resemble an airplane and the jump towers at Fort Bragg...A world War II paratrooper mannequin hangs overhead, chute deployed.
Invasion of France entrance resembles a bomb-damaged French Village...Paratrooper heroics from the South Pacific are shown on video as one sits on cargo trunks under a thatched roof...Vietnam display...sound of choppers fills the room constantly ...just as it was in that war...A full size Huey chopper anchors another exhibit.
The following quote was taken from the Greensboro News & Record, August 27, 2000:
The museum is devoted to elitism and makes no apologizes for it. The Paratroopers, Rangers and Green Beret rank as the Armys' Best. Soldiers are not forced into these units. They volunteer to go through rigorous training far beyond what other soldiers endure. They do so, Gen. Henry Shelton said at the opening ceremony, because they have " an unquenchable thirst for adventure".
Submitted by: Jerry Ray
Piglets A Stag And two Horses
Once up in the Tannes Mountains, Jerrys platoon was flaked out for the night. One of the squads was lying down in a tiny trail. The rebels in the platoon pointed out the fact that it probably was a game trail to them Damn Yankees. The Yankees figured yah, yah, yah, more southern jive. Along about very oh dark hundred hours came the thunder of tiny hooves, high pitched squeals, and screaming Yanks. Twas a game trail and a bunch of wild pigs luckily just the piglets came a charging them Yankees like Pickett at Gettysburg. One early morning just as the dawn was breaking ole J.D. was a-stirrin in his sleeping bag, all was quiet, as he slowly arose to answer natures call, he observed just below him about a hundred yards away, one of those stately German Stags haughtily eyeballing him. The stag slowly turned and disappeared back to whence he came and Jerry suitably impressed went on about his business. While visiting my roots, a female cousin, had the brilliant idea to take me horseback riding. At 0600 hours despite my protests the eve before she awakens me, clad in riding breeches, cap and the whole nine yards. We go to the barn two of those elephant looking Budweiser type horses already saddled. We climb aboard , she gives a mighty German version of giddy-up, horses thunder along 50 or 60 feet, hers throws her off, both horses about face and return to barn. As they enter the barn I duck my head or else I would have lost it. Horses start to eat hay, I gallantly go to cousins aid, she is highly embarrassed and her derriere is sore for a week. J.D. Ray & Lou Schreiner
The Legs Chat About Days Of Yore
On or about 1200 hours, Saturday, 12 August 2000, a former AIRBORNE TROOPER was spending his hard earned NYPD pension check in the 82nd Airborne museums gift shop. His buddy Jerry Ray was outside having a smoke. This REAL TROOPER heard a voice say, "What outfit were you in buddy?" I turn and as I do this guy sees my parachute wings with the 504 above them pinned on my hat and says,"504, I see when were you there?" I tell him he says he was in Germany at the same time with an Airborne Engineering outfit. I tell him I came out of the 503 here at Bragg. He says he was in 325 also at Bragg. I say, "Oh another leg." Before he can hook me I explain how I always ragged my buddy J.D. who is outside was in the 325 and I always rode him that it was a leg outfit. He laughs and I ask him to go along with me when I get Jerry and introduce them. He readily agrees. I get Jerry bring him over to the guy (he was a retired master sergeant) and I say, "Jerry I want you to meet a fellow leg I dug up from the 325." For a second Jerry is perplexed, then he realizes it was another "gotcha." The three of us had a good time talking of our days as troopers and shared quite a few laughs. Lou Schreiner
325 ABG
Did I Truly Hear And See Them?
Ole J.D. Ray and me were sitting in the C-130 mock up trainer down at Bragg earlier this month of August. We were idly chatting about things airborne. As we talked to each other, I kind of sensed in the back of my mind, the roar of the turbo props, the sound of the jumpmaster shouting the preparatory commands prior to leaping through the aircraft door. I could hear the men shouting their number off and the command to stand in the door. After a bit Jerry and I posed in the mock ups door in an exit the aircraft position. Just for a split second as I took his photo I saw him as he once was in our youth laden down with his chute and rifle. When he took my photo just as the shutter clicked I was that tough 17 year old kid who once defied the odds. As we got back into his car to head for the museum, I looked back at the jump school area and as it faded from view, so did my momentary recollection of who and what we once had been. Lou Schreiner
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Once His Brother Was Airborne
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