From Italy With Love

There are more than six billion people in the world. Each person's life is a collection of stories. What's fascinating is how these stories intersect, diverge and re-connect.

Followers of this blog have been no doubt aware of the ongoing story unfolding here. My father-in-law, who served more than 3 and a half years in the army during WWII wrote a book ten years ago called And There Shall Be Wars. Tomorrow he will be 90, a milestone for sure. He served in North Africa and Italy where his Red Bull 34th division scrapped and slogged for every inch, pushing back the Nazis from 1943 till the war's end.

In April 1945 Cpl. Wagner and the 34th were in Milan when Benito Mussolini and his mistress were slain, their bodies hung upside down and stoned by the peoples. Wagner was within a mile and could have gone to witness this historic event, but it did not suit him. He had already seen enough violence. But of this day he wrote it was one he would not forget. The roads were lined with Italians all waving and cheering.There many in Italy who remember that day.

What's also fascinating to me is how the sharing of Bud's book with my own family lead to my discovering that one of my uncles had been at Normandy on D-Day and another great uncle had been wounded by shrapnel at the Battle of the Bulge. Now we have had the privilege of sharing some of Bud's stories in Italy. This week a new magazine is going to print about the history of Northern Italy. Mario, our new friend over there, helped with its formation. In the process, I think they've all fallen in love with the story teller from Minnesota, Wilmer A. "Bud" Wagner.

Here is an email I received this morning from Mario followed by a YouTube video Birthday Greeting to Bud. Two of the people in this little video remember when the Americans were there in Racconigi. Bud remembers these days in Italy with fondness.

Thank you Ed! Today is Saturday: generally, a busy day for me. Well: busy is not the right world, it's better say: full of strange events, very "normal" in this old-odd country inside old Europe. I just arrived from a small city not far from here (Cherasco) where I was invited to attend the presentation of a Cycling Team (all babies under 10) going to attend the Italian Junior Championship next week. Now I'm leaving, to attend the inauguration of a new Restaurant in an ex aristocratic estate here (!!!). But tomorrow is Sunday!!! And the very important fact is that our magazine will be printed beginning from Thursday.

Our young art director (Pier) is very interested in fine arts and graphics; he already knows your blog! Good idea, a show in Italy! We only need to begin breathing again!

Carla is 83! A very active woman, a very, very good friend. She is helping us gather people to collect memoirs. Beppe is 84: at 18 he became a partisan! And one thing I forgot to tell while introducing him, is that he is our former mayor (the "first citizen", as we used to say).

When I was in Cherasco two hours ago, I had a touching meeting with a man (about 69, but he looks 50) who was one of my neighbours when I was young. I told him about Bud; he started telling me of his father, who was in the Army in Sardinia at the end of the war; he was some months old when his father had to join the Army so he only knew him as a face on a photo; in 1945, his mother was informed that maybe his husband was dead. When Bud was in Racconigi, the young boy used to reach the railway station every evening, 'cause the only one train arriving from Torino was full of soldiers coming home from all sorts of places. One evening his father arrived and had such a long beard, was so thin and bad looking, that he didn't recognize him. He had reached Naples on an English ship, and had walked (!) from Naples to Turin: look at a map, Ed!

This is the very meaning of "discovering" Bud: there are so many people here, who are astonished in listening to his story. He has opened a sort of "Pandora vase" of memoirs and feelings, that had never been told or written. I've so many stories to tell you!

"Domani è un altro giorno": tomorrow is another day. Bud will be "officially" 90: tell him we are all with you in Minnesota. Ciao, Mario

Thank you Mario, Beppe, Pier, Carla... each of you and all of you.

WW2 Vet Celebrates 90th This Week

"Death was always hovering over you like mud and executed orders. But once you got used to it, you never did get to know the fellows you worked with. When they left you it was for keeps and all they got was a body bag and a place in the cemetery." ~Wilmer A. "Bud" Wagner

We take our freedoms for granted, something no one took for granted sixty years ago.

My father-in-law is celebrating his ninetieth birthday this week. (His actual birthday is Flag Day, the 14th.) He's no slacker. Today he's been out mowing my yard, getting it prettied for his daughter arriving from Texas and a grand-daughter coming home from college this evening. He's planting a few more flowers, working in the garden and occasionally stopping to take a rest. Very occasionally.

On Memorial Day I made reference to his memoirs which were amplified into a book called And There Shall Be Wars. It just so happens that earlier this month Mario Monasterolo, a historian in the region of Turin, Italy, discovered Bud's book through Google and we have been in correspondence. The episode churned up fresh memories for Bud which had not been included in the original story. Here are a few of these.

By the summer of 1940 everybody knew there would be a war soon, except maybe the strong pro-Germans. My grandfather had died that winter leaving four sons, a son-in-law, two daughters and another son-in-law who had a mind of his own.

The oldest son soothed most of the Germans in the family by listening to Hitler speak one night on the radio and said he was real sure Hitler had no thoughts of a global war. However, he was the first one to change his mind as he bought a new Ford car and later a brother moved him to Wisconsin and he had his upstairs loaded with sugar and things that later became rationed. To the rest of the people it was pretty obvious that war was headed our way. You would have had to be pretty stupid to think otherwise. Then the draft lottery started and all the young men had to register. My dad was against that. Not so much of the war, but losing one or more of his two boys to the army.

Well I got a low draft number and got called up in April of 41. The book tells about all I could say about it. Then December 7th came along and we were in it. The hardest things were mock battles, load everything and imagine you are ready to advance or retreat. Cooking was going good and I was satisfied... then the night after Christmas one Battalion moved out. Some of these fellows were on furlough and had to be replaced in a hurry and I was one that had to go with the First Battalion, but still as a cook. Then in a few days we left too and I found out what feeding five hundred men in a moving train was like. Lots of help, but hectic.

Then the following morning it hit me suddenly that we were heading East and it really sobered me up. The thought now was one year for me, it’s for the duration, but I was glad we found out we were going to Ireland. I learned a lot of cooking from Hurlog Soderlung, Don Sternke and others. Then I had the chance to cook for the officers. I made a hit with them as they bought food themselves and had us cook it for them. In the Tynan Abbey camp, the one gardener took me to his home and I met his daughter Peggy. I would walk across the estate almost every night to visit with them and we all had a good time. I had bought the first bicycle I ever owned and rode along the beach with Eva Auald, Don Sternke and his girlfriend. Then we moved and Hurley got me acquainted with his girl friend’s sister who was also a pharmacist. The book covers the time pretty well as we finally got into action and I got out of the kitchen. We made an 800 mile trip three times and then it was Italy for two years.

One of the most impressive feats of bravery for any soldier, green or experienced, is a beachhead. The first half hour of Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan did more to illuminate this experience than nearly any film or book I have ever encountered. What is often forgotten is that the 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division put themselves on the line in not one, but two such beachhead assaults, at Anzio and Salerno.

Over the years, I've frequently been impressed by the details in Bud's re-telling of these landings. This is in reference to Salerno, Bud in his jeep on the Landing Transport.

Let’s go back to just before the invasion. We had our vehicles pretty well waterproofed. Remember, we had to stay on the job until the vehicles were completely waterproofed and checked by an officer. Then there was constant thought as to how we really would do. Strange was all of it to us. As the big doors on the LST, or commonly called the Large Slow Target, would react to the orders to open we had to have the transmission in first gear, the transfer case in low position, and the throttle one third all the way on its permanent setting. Both hands on the steering wheel, and under no circumstances do you move any of your body members any other way. Oh yes, and the front wheel drive lever engaged.

The uncertainty of the whole thing would have me to say read it again. Put yourself in the place of a soldier. The running around to where you weren't quite sure to where you were told to go and not quite sure as to who they were as we were assigned to the 36th Division. It was “do your best and keep moving.”

One of the first things that happened was of course the Krauts left a few parting shots as they usually always tried to do, and our boys were doing the almost impossible thing of firing the 105's without having the trail split or using the gadgets for range and elevation. Easy to pass by on this one with a shrug, but read it again. 105's are made to be fired with the trail spilt and dug into the ground to hold them somewhat in the same position for the next shot. Then remember, too, they had absolutely no information as to what the range or altitude should be so they were shooting at the Krauts point blank and if you don't know much about artillery pieces, the Krauts couldn't shoot back. When you retreat the gun is hooked up to a two and a half ton truck and can't be fired until the truck unhooks the gun and the crew shifts it into firing position. Not an easy task either as they are real heavy expensive things and very heavy to maneuver back into firing position. The unusual thing about one gun is that as the crew was trying to get it back in the firing position, a two star from the 36th Division came and helped the crew get the trails back close enough so that they could get that artillery piece to give the Krauts one more parting shot. But read it again.

You never will get the full benefit of it until you can see the inside of what a tank looks like when they scored a few direct hits. The gun crew sergeant said of the General, he was the highest ranking man I ever had on my own crew. It was a hectic night. We had to do a lot of things on our own initiative. A skeleton crew was there from every detail and as I was going past the service truck the mechanic Louie Day hollered at me to stop and remove some of the waterproofing. I just waved and kept on my way.

The Jeep suffered a lot that day, got hot and really banged up. That’s why they picked me to be the one to be the first messengers there. My plan was to drive it or park it. There was no rest that night but by the next day there was some resemblance, though that changed in a hurry, too. The Krauts weren't giving up just yet. They had a crack division there in a hurry and we had to back up a bit, first time in all our combat. Eisenhower soon heard and had the 82nd Airborne Division from Sicily and some war ships shooting over us.

More stories yet to be told, but if you get a hankering for the book, you can find it here. It's a good read, and most can't put it down.

PHOTO CAPTIONS

Top Right: "This is what the peep and I looked like after a night of trips on the muddy Voltuno River banks, and sometimes between the banks as well. Hand-operated windshield wipers gave a small view. Shifting gears, steering, and windshield wiping all at the same time was sometimes tricky. I'm glad the clutch and gas were foot-operated instead of by hand." November 8, 1943.

Left: Bud today, as in this afternoon, still looking forward to good things as yet unseen.

Lower Right: "These 3 English graves and 1 American were close to Hill 609. No doubt they were booby-trapped. These graves were removed when the rear troops got there." July 25, 1943.