Austria


After VJ day, soldiers were selected for shipment home and discharge based on their number of individual earned points. Points were earned for overall service, extra points for overseas and combat service, receipt of medals such as the Purple Heart, and without regard to rank. As I mentioned earlier, troops were beginning to flow back in increasing numbers when we left for England and the Atlantic crossings were getting in full gear by the time our course work finished at Shrivenham. Those of us eligible for immediate discharge were sent to units in the process of preparing for and or boarding transports. Those of us with fewer points, like me, were assigned to Infantry Divisions and other large units who were scheduled to leave later, replacing those already sent home with "transfers in" of lower point GIs from whatever source. Some of my classmates who had about the same points I had, fifty-one if my memory is correct, were assigned to the 83rd Infantry Division in Austria, scheduled to return to the States in March or April. It was a taxing logistical job for the High Command but in the main, fair and well done.

The trip to Austria reminded us that the war was over but not necessarily the hardships. We were trained to some port and loaded on a channel ferry meant originally for trucks and cars only. It was early December and the sea was rough and the floor hard. Déjà vu, all over. Then we were loaded on 40and8 freight cars of World War I vintage. Our first destination was Munich and it took us two to three days to get there. It was bitter cold at night with only one blanket and some enterprising GIs began literally pulling up the floorboards for firewood but, of course, there was limit to how much we could take without finding ourselves on the tracks. Food was also a problem. We were given some K-rations (oh, joy) and each night, precise or even near-precise scheduling being seemingly impossible, we pulled into some siding where a mess car with hot food, of a sort, was waiting. It was a miserable trip and I shiver thinking of it. When we reached Munich, things improved immensely. First, we had a fine meal in the station's main restaurant, which had been taken over by the Army. Then we were ticketed on civilian trains and headed for Austria in comparative luxury. I think I was offloaded in Linz, where trucks were waiting to take us to the units we had been assigned. My unit, and I can't remember its designation, was located in Volklabruck, midway between Linz and Vienna. It was a relatively small but old town complete with a medieval walled entrance. I must have been assigned to a Service Battery because we had a lot of trucks, which were in an empty factory building, and we were billeted in apartments nearby. On Christmas Eve, I went to a nearby church covered in snow for midnight services and it was beautiful. There wasn't much to do but I'll describe some of the occupation duties (?) and adventures we had.

We had an EM club in town, with plenty of beer, etc., and even a visit from an USO unit, God bless them all. The biggest entertainment, however, were the Austrian Fraus and Fraulines who would do almost anything for entertainment and food and, of course, none of them had ever been Nazis. Some of our old 89th buddies were stationed in Branau, Hitler's birthplace, and we were invited to spend New Year's Eve at a big party they were planning. The CO agreed and on New Year's Eve day, with me as the assigned driver, a bunch of us took off for a trip over the mountains to Branau in a 2 and 1/2-ton truck right after lunch. As we began to climb, the sky darkened and soon we were in a very heavy snowstorm or blizzard. It was a narrow road and, alternating from each side, about every 100 feet or more, were barbershop-type red and white striped poles stuck into the ground to help one stay on the road when the snow was piling up high. In no time, it started to pile up and I got worried. Most of the guys in the back had already started their New Year celebration and were in no condition to walk if we got stuck and, if we got stuck, they were likely to freeze to death before being rescued. Fortunately for us, an Austrian civilian was plodding up the mountain road in the now bitter cold and he tried to hitch a ride. I put him in the front seat, gave him some bread and a shot of liquor, and he helped guide and keep me on track, a grueling task. The celebration was great and worth the trip--I think. Early in the bash/dance a medic not of our division, offered me a gin tonic. It was actually a "mickey" made from medical wood alcohol and the next thing I knew it was early morning and I was in a snow pile having been accidentally dropped there by my buddies while being carried home to our bunks for the night. That was one dirty trick I have never forgotten.

Things began to pick up a bit. A huge area had been established somewhere near Munich or Frankfort (I forget which) where surplus Army airplanes, trucks, tanks and similar equipment was being assembled for eventual disposal. Several times I drove 10-ton semis and 21/2-ton trucks to these depots. I got a kick out of driving the big ones, which meant I had now learned to drive everything from jeeps, including tanks, to the big monsters.

Gmunden, a resort town about 14 kilometers from where I lived, was a beautiful place on the Gmunden Zee, a large lake almost surrounded by towering mountains falling steeply into the lake. Some units of the 83rd were stationed there but it also contained a regional R&R area located on the lake in a castle-like setting. Also a part of it was a dance hall open to any troops in the area. No beer but plenty of food and goodies and, most important, good looking and accessible young women. The first time a bunch of us drove a truck over for the evening I spotted this very attractive young lady on the dance floor and waited until she set down at her table. I approached her and in my "best" German asked her if she would honor me with a dance. To my considerable surprise, she replied in perfect English, including an English accent that she would be delighted and immediately my final European romantic adventure began.

Her name was Dora Bujatti, from Vienna but living in Gmunden with an older brother to escape the bombing during the war. Her family, of Austrian and Italian origin, had owned a successful shoe business before the war and was just beginning to try and pick up the pieces before returning to Vienna. As I have commented on previously, we were a typical example of young people trying to catch up with the normal young adult life that almost all our age had lost or was seriously curtailed due to the war. She was very pretty, cultured, a beautiful dancer and charming, perhaps a year younger than me. Almost immediately, we began an intense and increasingly satisfying relationship. I would come to Gmunden every time I could get away. Upon return from one of my truck disposal assignments, for which my Sergeant had promised me a three-day R&R in Gmunden for helping him out in a pinch, he reneged giving some spurious reason. I took off anyway, registering at the center in the normal way to avoid any charges of desertion or something like that. He knew where I was and called me on the telephone the next day. In a triumphant voice, he snarled that since I liked Gmunden so much, he had just had me transferred there and to come pick up my gear. Sometimes the Lord indeed moves in strange ways.

My new unit, the one I was eventually to go home with, was billeted in a very lovely resort hotel on the main street with the hotel staff serving us our meals in a fine dining room. I had occasional interesting jobs, which took me to Linz, Salzburg and other cities and towns but never got to Vienna. I did, however, get to spend a lot of satisfying time with Dora.

<< England | Final Sea Voyage >>