80 Years Ago Today: Last Days of Mussolini and the Axis Powers

"War is delightful to those who have had no experience of it."--Erasmus

Liberation Day, April 25, 2023. Three men wearing
the uniforms of the Resistance fighters of the North.

Today is the 80th anniversary of the death of Mussolini. On 25 April he fled Milan, where he had been based, and headed towards the Swiss border. He and his mistress, Claretta Petcci, were captured on 27 April by local partisans near the village of Dong on Lake Como. Mussolini and Petacci were executed the following afternoon, two days before Adolf Hitler's suicide.  

The bodies of Mussolini and Petacci were taken to Milan and left in a suburban square, the Piazzale Loreto, where a large angry crowd insulted and physically abuse. They were then hung upside down from a metal girder above a service station on the square.  

These were epic times, the culmination of the war in Europe. My father-in-law, Wilmer "Bud" Wagner, as a front line company agent in the Red Bull Division, had the opportunity to go see the bodies of Mussolini and his mistress, but he declined. He'd seen enough gore, having been on the first convoy to cross the Atlantic for the European Theater, fighting the Germans across North Africa to the toe of Italy and all the way up the boot.

All throughout he'd kept a diary, which later became a book, And There Shall Be Wars. Here are diary entries from those fateful days, along with additional commentary for context.

* * * * * 

Friday, April 27, 1945

Had to make one trip to Division Artillery last night around 1:00 a.m.  Took less than an hour.  Raining this morning, rained quite a bit during the night.  

Moved again, raining most of the day.  Several more trips to Division Artillery.

Both 5th and 8th Army units have been pouring across the Po and into the valley for 3 days; there's little or nothing now the Germans can do.  I'm thinking now when I see hay being made, that with luck, I'll be home even this summer helping make some more of it.

On April 25, the U.S. 1st Army met up with the Soviet forces at Torgau on the Elbe.  The U.S. 3rd Army crossed the Danube near Regensburg, and was attacked there.  Berlin had been entered in the south and the east.

Saturday, April 28, 1945

We moved on to #9 again today, in kind of an assembly area. Nice place alongside the road.

Several trips to Division Artillery. A pretty girl came up to talk -- she could speak German. Always nice to talk a little to them.  

As far as I can tell, we came through Modena and Parma, maybe farther.

It was nice to go through Modena, a city of over 150,000.  There were no old, narrow streets here, and there was a really tall 290 foot Cathedral.  Parma was another city worth forfeiting a furlough in order to see.  It looked modern, with straight streets.  The people were wild for the Americans.  Both Modena and Parma were Roman colonies before Christ. 

Seeing these cities had to have been a part of the glory of war -- there wasn't much glory in the shooting, killing, seeing the wounded, the mud, or slowly advancing toward the front.  That's where the fear, and the sickly feeling, and the wondering of "Why are we doing this?" comes in instead of glory.  As Desiderius Erasmus said a few hundred years ago, "War is delightful to those who have had no experience of it."

I was also happy to be out of the mountains.  I'd seen enough of mountains to last me a lifetime, and I still prefer the valleys.  The hills in Duluth are all I want to climb nowadays.

An ersatz surrender ceremony affecting all troops fighting in Italy took place at 2:00 p.m. on April 28.  The ceremony was kept somewhat secret; the German officers were dressed in civilian clothes, and were acting on their own.  A German Major and Lieutenant Colonel appeared at the peace table grim-faced before General Morgan and many other high-ranking American and British officers.  Their muscles were taut, their hands were clenched fiercely together behind their backs, and they had an "I hate you" expression on their face, just opposite of most of the low- ranking prisoners I had hauled to the rear.  

The German Lieutenant Colonel said for the record that he had received only limited powers from his Commander in Chief, and that he was being forced to overstep those limits.  He assumed his Commander would approve his action, but said he could not be sure if this was the case.

General Morgan just told him casually, "We accept those conditions."

The Germans sat and signed 5 copies of the surrender documents, and General Morgan signed them last.  The Germans left swiftly, and the ceremony was over at 2:17.

Sunday, April 29, 1945

A day I won't forget for awhile.  Up at 7:00.  

Pulled out at 8:30.  Made 172 miles.  Cold and windy.  Really enjoyed it, though.  Thick groves of people lined the road all the way.  Many beautiful girls, and well-dressed adults and younger people, all waving and cheering.  Some close enough to you hold out their hands to touch yours.  

Saw thousands of German prisoners.  I counted 35 heavily loaded vehicles with Jerry prisoners, some high ranking officers, also nurses, all standing in their trucks, with Kraut drivers heading north.  

We just crossed the Po again today, as wide as the Missouri River. We're at the foot of the Alps; they tower high in the distance, capped with snow, sure glad we don't have to chase Jerry through the Brenner Pass.  We'd heard about that place.  

We parked in a court yard for the night.  Was a hard day, but nice driving on a good road, and made good time. Tom McGee rode with me.

Monday, April 30, 1945

Layed around most of the day, but went to Division Artillery several times.  They are in a large town.  It seems we were supposed to get to Bergamo, but I'm not sure.  I don't think the Krauts who we heard were waiting there to ambush us are going to -- after all, the Germans are heading homewards.

We are close to, or in the outskirts of Milan.  All the Italians are chanting "Finito, Benito!" and he is pretty well finished, all right.  He and his mistress Clare Petacci are hanging by their heels in the main square of Milan for all to see.  Dick and I were going to go, but we changed our minds.  Some of our fellows went to see Benito and his girl friend, and said it was a pretty gory sight.  It seems this couple was almost in Switzerland on vacation when they were intercepted.

Related Links

Bud Wagner's And There Shall Be Wars

Liberation Day: Italy Celebrates Victory Over Fascism, With Expressions of Gratitude to the U.S.

Veteran's Day: The Book "And There Shall Be Wars" Speaks Volumes

Veteran's Day: The Book "And There Shall Be Wars" Speaks Volumes

Bud Wagner in North Africa
Anti-aircraft machinegun operator

My father-in-law Wilmer A. "Bud" Wagner was the second man in Northern Minnesota to be drafted into World War II. He carried a small pocket camera and kept a diary from beginning to end, from Camp Claiborne to Ireland to North Africa and the Italy Campaigns. 

When Susie and I were dating in the 1970s, Bud brought out his diaries and asked me to give an opinion as to whether they would be of interest to anyone. At the end of the weekend I gave him my verdict: "Yes!"

So began his journey toward becoming an author. His keen day by day observations were then amplified with a lifetime of research and reflection to provide readers with important insights through the eyes of a young soldier from rural Minnesota.

Bud Wagner -- cook, machine gunner and company agent -- had the privilege of being on the first convoy to make its way across the Atlantic for the European theater. And the good fortune of having survived the duration of the war without becoming a casualty in North Africa and Italy, which included beachheads at Anzio and Salerno.

The book is a joint project involving the research skills and memoirs of WW II veteran Bud Wagner and his son Lloyd Wagner (Masters in Literature). When I encouraged to amplify his diaries and make a book of them I had no idea of how invested he would become in this project. He greatly exceeded my expectations and, with Lloyd's able editing, he has produced a fascinating manuscript that includes a large quantity of original photos and other documents.

When the manuscript was published, he sent a copy to retired General John W. Vessey, former head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Vessey's name appears four times in the book, including a diaryentry noting that John Vessey's promotion to Captain took place in Bud's "peep." (It was only after the war that the learned these all-purpose vehicles were called jeeps.)

Here is General Vessey's letter to Bud regarding this memoir titled And There Shall Be Wars.

"Dear Bud, ... Thanks not only for the copy of the book, but also for putting those wartime notes into a permanent record. It is an important addition to all the "stuff" historians record. I couldn't put the book down once I got into it. It brought back a lot of memories reading about times, places, and people from 55+ years ago." 

~ retired General John W. Vessey, 

former head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff

Just today I was forwarded an email from one of Susie's classmates who just finished reading Bud's diary/memoirs. Her comments were so poignant I requested to share them here. She wrote:

Bud and his mud-covered "peep"

This is Sarah Grandson (Sundberg). I have a copy of your father’s book that you gave me at the 50th reunion in July, and just finished reading it. What a treasure!! You and your family are so fortunate that your father kept a diary. You had asked me to let you know what I thought, so here goes.

1. He kept a lot of his personal feelings to himself, so I thought it interesting how affected he was by the death of one of the fellows who he wasn’t as close to when they were fighting in Italy (don’t remember the name), but I suppose after seeing so much death and destruction anyone would really start questioning the purpose. It was amazing how well he actually handled all the destruction around him.
2. I was surprised how poor the quality of the Army “peeps” were as his was always breaking down, a certain amount due of course, to the conditions. You can feel his frustration with it. 
3. It’s amazing at how adaptable the human species are. To go from a tight, secure family environment to preparing for war, then to the thick of it, and handle the emotions as well as your father did, is remarkable. 
4. Those men suffered so much and complained so little. Hunger, cold, heat, lack of a safe place to sleep, danger of losing their life, etc, etc. they truly were the “greatest generation”.

Disabled German tank.

Here's another response to the book, this one from James Wiita, a friend in the local music and arts scene who completed his own first book this past winter, Rock On, Duluth!

Reading Bud is like a daily talk with someone, though one sided. You can pick right up where you left off, it’s so personal it shows his human characteristics, and what to anticipate with each entry.

It seems to show every aspect of “army life “ -- the important details and accuracy mixed with the training -- moments with friends and music, faith, along with frequent headaches and  times of boredom.

* * * 

One of the surprises for me was Bud's love of poetry. There are numerous poems included in the book. One of my favorites is titled, "You're A Machine Gunner Now." Another is titled "A Battalion Agent" which you can find in this blog post titled "War Poems Tell Stories."

https://pioneerproductions.blogspot.com/2022/01/a-battalion-agent-war-poems-tell-stories.html

When I was in Italy last year my visit coincided with Italy's Liberation Day. On that day Italy celebrated the Allies victory over fascism. There were nationwide expressions of gratitude to the U.S. for its role in defeating Mussolini. You can read about my experiences here:

https://pioneerproductions.blogspot.com/2023/05/liberation-day-italy-celebrates-victory.html

One last link

Various Ways of Looking at History with Commentary (and a Book Offer)

https://pioneerproductions.blogspot.com/2023/04/various-ways-of-looking-at-history-with.html 

James Wiita on Bud Wagner's And There Shall Be Wars

Nearly a half century ago, Bud Wagner (who would eventually become my father-in-law) shared with me his diaries from the time he enlisted in the army and went to war in Europe, first in North Africa and on to Italy. He asked my opinion regarding his record from that time, "Would anyone be interested in this?"

I replied, "Absolutely." 

As a market gardener, he had little time much of the year for this project, but each winter he remained dedicated to researching the global context of his personal experience and devoted his time to setting down in writing what I peronally believe is not only an insightful book but also a significant contribution to our understanding of what it was like to be a soldier during the Second World War.

What follows is an email from someone who recently purchased a copy of Bud's book, And There Shall Be Wars.

Just a note to say how much I am enjoying the book about your Father-in-Law.

You strike me as someone who ingests a lot of reading each week. I imagine you are always in the midst of a good book. With all the focus on my own project , I haven’t  read a good, fat book for way too long.
 
I am now just getting back into that swing. This book has truly launched the habit.

I’ve just started to dig into the story, and want to pick it up as my first read in the morning. It’s a few days after Pearl Harbor in the story.

Reading Bud is like a daily talk with someone, though one sided. You can pick right up where you left off, it’s so personal it shows his human characteristics, and what to anticipate with each entry.

It seems to show every aspect of “army life “ -- the important details and accuracy mixed with the training -- moments with friends and music, faith, along with frequent headaches and  times of boredom.

You can easily see the kind of soldier he became, and how his superiors and others viewed him. The entries give vivid clues. Not in a slighting way, but this man was definitely on the spectrum. There are so many indicators it’s fascinating.

I could give many examples already of his definers. I’m no expert, but the fastidious behaviors and attention to detail tell a true daily approach to his obsession with detail.
It adds a generous empathy to his storytelling. You feel as fulfilled in his chronicling as he did .

Well, that sounded like a critique, but I wanted you to know I think preserving this story is as important to me as it was to Bud.

Before he ever left he knew he was going to be chronicling, the cameras alone tell the tale. The results are extremely impressive.

Thanks for bringing the book to me.
James

* * * 

HERE'S AN EXCERPT that reflects how the book is organized. Bud recorded each of his daily handwritten diary entries and then added a commentary, amplifying the account recorded in his journals. The additional commentary often included details from other parts of the war theater, thereby giving context to his personal experience. 

Friday, January 7, 1944
Had to go to all battalions at midnight with firing orders. Moonlight so I didn't mind too much. Slept through breakfast. Were shelled twice here today. My nerves aren't able to take it anymore as well as they used to. Some shells came close enough.

151 moved tonight; I moved with them to the other side of San Pietro, a rubbled mess, a battlefield, to be sure. Back here at 10:00, just got nicely to sleep when the guard called, "Wag, get to Message Center," so there was another Firing Order to all battalions. It must have been after 2:00 when I got back.

San Pietro and San Vitorre were two towns literally blown off the face of the earth. There were many trees around that were totally devoid of all branches, and were just sticks left from all the shell fire. The city itself was piles of concrete rubble. I didn't see life of any kind left any time I drove through. About this time the II Corps took Mts. Porchio and Chiaia, two objectives necessary for our Division to have before our ultimate objective of Cassino.

Photo Caption Top: Don and I went to Sbeitia with water truck. Saw 4 German graves, some old buildings that were failing down, and French garrison that had been bombed. --Tuesday, March 30, 1943

* * * 

RELATED LINKS

James Wiita is author of the book Rock On, Duluth

Dogs of War and Liberation Day, Italy

TO PURCHASE A COPY OF YOUR OWN, SEND A NOTE TO ENNYMAN3@GMAIL.COM

This Day In History

Births

Jim Thorpe (126 years ago)
Ian Fleming (104 years ago)
Gladys Knight (68 years ago)

Deaths 

Noah Webster (169 years ago)

Military exercises, World War II

History has always been fascinating to me. It started, I think, when I was in the fourth grade. Years later I would learn that before a certain age children have no concept of time, so they have difficulty grasping stories about history. It makes sense that part of being a young child is wrapped up in "living in the now." Around fourth or fifth grade young minds begin to understand that the past is something back there and the future out ahead of us. 

It was in Miss Morse's fourth grade class at Stafford School that I developed an interest in the Civil War. The chief cause of this fascination was a very large, colorful book (published, I believe, by American Heritage) at the back of the room with maps of every battle. The maps had details of the terrain and showed where the various army battalions were stationed or moving. I remember very little from that year of schooling other than that book at the back of the room, which I visited frequently.

Books of all types are endlessly fascinating, especially biographies and autobiographies. When we read peoples' stories we discover how much we have in common, or how very different our experiences have been.

Chopping onions, Bud Wagner, left.

70 years ago today sugar rationing began in the United States. The war effort was having a major impact on many industries. Sacrifices were being made across the board because something large was at stake. Our young men were now overseas.

In 1999 my father-in-law Wilmer A. "Bud" Wagner published his war memoirs, with notations. Hard to believe it has been 70 years since he was stationed in Ireland, preparing for the North Africa Campaign. Though never a soldier myself I know that the phrase "hurry up and wait" is a common one. The soldiers were assembled, trained and now waiting for marching orders. Many of these men would never see their families again.

Here's an excerpt from Bud's book And There Shall Be Wars. It's an ordinary man's daily observations for three-and-one-half years of service. Wagner was the second man in Northern Minnesota to be drafted into the war. He carried a small pocket camera and kept a diary from beginning to end, from Camp Claiborne to Ireland to North Africa and the Italy Campaigns. His keen day by day observations have been amplified with a lifetime of research and reflection to provide readers with important insights through the eyes of a young soldier from rural Minnesota.

The format of the book is diary entries followed by commentary, designated here by italics.

Wednesday, May 27,1942 

On again this forenoon. Raining on and off. Hurley and I went to Limavady. Got a ride in with an army truck. Went to several places, until 7:30, then we took Nancy and Dorothy to a show, Toppers Return. A fantastic story, but enjoyed the picture. Left the girls at 11:30 and walked to camp. Two letters today.

Dorothy had been staying with Nancy a few days on vacation. They came from Belfast. Both were well-educated, with high standards, and real nice to talk to. Hurley kept in contact with Nancy the whole time we were in Ireland. 

 Irish girls like these two would never think of inviting boyfriends to their apartment after a move. Dorothy and I weren't excited about each other, but I was a good fill-in once in a while, and she gave me a good reason to go to town, instead of just to walk around. 

Thursday, May 28, 1942 

Slept until 9:30. Read a little. Hurley and I were on together this p.m. We hurried through tonight. We each got a pass. I borrowed Don's bike, and we went to Limavady again. We went for a walk with Nancy and Dorothy, across the river and in a park. Dorothy took pictures. She can get film. We just talked a lot, and I had a Time magazine that we discussed. We walked back again. To camp at midnight.

Friday, May 29, 1942 

Didn't get to sleep until 1:30. Hurley overslept. I really had to move on the double to get breakfast out on time. We had fried potatoes, French toast, braised beef for dinner. Off this p.m. Had to load all our things, the kitchen truck and leave the kitchen and our hut real clean. Hurley wanted me to go with him to Limavady again, but lucky for me, no passes were given out. I'm just getting tired out.

* * * * *
This matter-of-fact style of daily notation becomes quite dramatic once the war kicks into high gear. Here's a portion of a letter from retired General John W. Vessey, former head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Vessey received orders of his promotion to captain while in Bud's jeep, his first bump toward the top.

"Dear Bud, ... Thanks not only for the copy of the book, but also for putting those wartime notes into a permanent record. It is an important addition to all the "stuff" historians record. I couldn't put the book down once I got into it. It brought back a lot of memories reading about times, places, and people from 55+ years ago."

And There Shall Be Wars is available at Savage Press. Wagner will soon be 93. His service to his country will be remembered.  

Photos by Wilmer Wagner. Click images to enlarge.

Scenes from Today's Honor Flight

Veteran Recalls Death “By Friendly Fire”

On one level Pat Tillman was just another soldier. To quote my father-in-law who served in World War II, “The short lives of those killed were hardly a flicker here on earth. Though most of their names will never appear in history books, they were all heroes. Every battle left heroes, the survivors and the dead. I can only have nothing but sad respect for the men who had so few joys and so many miseries, and who gave their lives so others could go on living.”

For me, Tillman was more than just another soldier because he was more than just another person even before he entered the war. What I mean is that Tillman demonstrated his values by his choices. During his football career he turned down a 9 million dollar contract with the St. Louis Rams to play at one-third this price for the Arizona Cardinals. Later, Tillman gave up the money altogether to enlist in the armed forces to participate in Operation Iraqi Freedom. He was later sent to Afghanistan.

I remember in April 2004 when the news carried the story of his untimely death while in the service of his country. Tragically, two months later, another Pat Tillman story crossed the newswire. “FormerNFL player¹s death caused by ‘friendly fire'.” Friendly fire is a euphemism for “Oh no, we shot our own man.”

Mistakes happen in life, but when I overtighten a lug nut and it breaks, it is only a hassle. No one has been killed by this foolishness. Mistakes like the death of Pat Tillman are on another scale. Sometimes it takes a lifetime to process the confusion and grief. I know this because my father-in-law Bud Wagner has recently been telling a few stories that did not make the pages of his published war memoir, And There Shall Be Wars.

Today as we celebrate our own Independence as a nation, I wanted to share one of these untold stories which reveal the true costs of our freedom.

There are many, many things not written down in the book as they actually happened. One that comes to mind right away is on page 359 when four American bombers came over a bunch of us. I was out of range but some of the 125 F.A. weren't, and four were killed. Ken Kramer was one of those killed. Read it again. American bombers dropped four 500 lb. bombs to lose weight and get back to England. The Second Corps came out with the report that unidentified bombers dropped bombs.

Kramer was a friend of mine starting in Ireland. Truth is truth, as well as error is error, war or not. Articles like this one were ones that would grip me and others. You could compare it with a person not familiar with the Bible. After he read it you could say, "Well, what did it say?" He would probably say some little thing about it and would have to say, "Well read it again." Probably omitting the statement that those bombers were unidentified. We knew which were enemies and which were friendly bombers. Well, so did the corps.

Many accidents occur because of carelessness. When they permanently take away something that might have been, how does one process this?

While talking with Bud the incident came up yet again. It is also powerfully revealing of why returning soldiers are often so mute about their experiences. Heart breaking. They want to share, but others who were not there can be brutally insensitive or dismissive, or worse.

Once more let’s turn to page 359. Read it again and then try to imagine just what happened. I can't recall much of the details anymore but have to pounce on the fake statements that those bombers were unidentified. First of all by the time they dropped the bombs many on the ground, including myself, knew they were American. Then when they got back to their base they would have known about where they were dropped. This of course was far from the Air Force policy and what about Ken, my old friend who was on radio duty who had to be the one who was killed. The confusion is unbelievable in a situation like this. Medics were close by and all help was used.

The other statement that came to me years later and long after my diary was written was from the original 2nd Corps account of Feb. 7, 1944. I quote, “unidentified aircraft dropped three bombs in the division sector, one of which destroyed the radio relay station slightly infuriating Sgt. Paul Staken, Pvt. Robert Staples and Corporal Bernard Reno. Sgt Kenneth Kramer who was operating the radio received more serious (wounds) and died the next day.” The rest of us knew better. It was a cause of one of the bombers crews missing the target and wanted to get back faster, probably to England or south Italy, and get rid of the bombs. What a morale builder. Try telling this to some civilians fifty or sixty years later and the response is sickening.

I can't go on without telling of the night I came home after four and a half years. Remember I had just got home that day...all my uncles and some others were there to welcome (me) and of course wanted to know all about the war. The youngest uncle asked me afterwards about the Germans killing unnecessarily and I told him a little and his response was "they all do that in war." I kept my mouth shut but much later was able to tell him to try and prove to me where any American soldiers lined Italians up alongside a building and shot them down... men, women and children. Then they covered them up with hay; others weren't always (covered). He would just shrug his shoulders and we soon found out when someone wanted to talk about the war you would get further to just keep your mouth shut. They would mostly think that it was probably true for some but not you as you came back and saw a lot of the country.

And so there was nothing more about the unidentified bomber except what we already knew and my old friend Ken had to do without the years that most of us survived.

As we remember the Fourth, let's make a special spot in our hearts for our veterans.

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.

Another Big Day

"Old age isn't so bad when you consider the alternative." ~Maurice Chevalier

The day we've been waiting for has arrived. Hard to believe it. Tonight we're honoring my father-in-law with a party to celebrate his 90th birthday, something one doesn't get to do every day. Hopefully some of us will be fortunate enough to have the experience. Ninety is a milestone for anyone, but especially for those veterans who left so many of their young friends on battlefields in Europe and the South Pacific.

My father-in-law W. A. "Bud" Wagner was the second Minnesotan drafted into the war. Cook, machine gunner and company agent, Wagner had the privilege of being on the first convoy to make its way across the Atlantic for the European theater. And the good fortune of having survived the duration of the war without becoming one of its casualties, in North Africa and Italy, which included beachheads at Anzio and Salerno.

A lifelong journal keeper, Bud finally set about at age 79 to assemble the book he'd been mentally writing all his life. With the help of his son Lloyd, who lives now and Laos and no doubt wishes he could be here tonight, Bud completed his 186,000 word war memories and reflections titled And There Shall Be Wars, which amounted to 535 pages.

Bud had several motivations for writing the book, primarily to put his diaries into a concise form for his family. When citing the value of diaries Bud frequently quotes the Chinese proverb, "The faintest ink is stronger than the strongest memory."

The big birthday's are pretty special. Last year while gardening out here on our property he said he was looking forward to this one. He made it a goal to be here when it happened.

Congratulations, Bud, for marking another milestone.

The older the fiddler, the sweeter the tune. -- English Proverb

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.