Free We Who Are Alive and Remain by Marcus Brotherton Page A

marched it was in freezing rain. The temperatures dipped so low that our boots froze at night. We toughed it out. My feet are still not the same today; I’ve got one foot where I can’t walk on concrete for long thanks to that hike. It was difficult, but I’m glad we had that experience.
    When we finally arrived in Atlanta the next day, we had a fifteen-mile parade in Class A uniforms from Oglethorpe University to the train station. We were in a foul mood when we started the parade but got into the spirit of it as we went along.
    Here’s a story about the hike: Company E had a sergeant, Sherman Irish, sort of a golden boy who smiled all the time. He was a favorite of Captain Sobel’s, or certainly didn’t have a conflict with him, like others did. Irish was competent; everybody loved the guy.
    Well, when the time for the big hike came along, Irish went to Sobel and said, “You have a car, I’d like to make the hike, but somebody needs to take your car to Benning, and I’d rather help you with your car.” Sobel had a newer-model Ford and agreed. Irish further volunteered to pack along any of the other officers’ valuables in the car. Other officers obliged.
    The day of the hike came. Irish got in Sobel’s car. The rest of us started walking. We arrived in Benning, but Sobel’s car was nowhere to be seen. Sobel received a telegram saying the car’s transmission had broken down in Atlanta and that Irish needed a hundred dollars to get it fixed. Sobel sent the money, but the car still never arrived. Nor did Sherman Irish.
    Months later, they caught him. He had sold all the officers’ items, including the wheels off Sobel’s car. Irish was court-martialed but was represented by some strong legal counsel evidently, because he was found not guilty on all charges. Irish came back to the outfit. I was there when he knocked on the company orderly room door (Sobel’s office). I think Sobel almost had an apoplexy. Sobel had him transferred out the same day.
    After the parade in Atlanta we got on the trains to go to Fort Benning for parachute training, then to Camp Mackall, then to Fort Bragg for refitting. We still didn’t know where our destination was. When we went to Camp Shanks, New York, we had a pretty good idea we were going to Europe.

Forrest Guth
    In my estimation, Captain Sobel was good for us. He was tough and very much a disciplinarian. As far as I’m concerned, Sobel was the one who made E Company tough.
    You could get out of paratroopers anytime you wanted, or if they didn’t like you, they sent you out in a hurry. I never wanted to quit or even thought about quitting. I said, “If this guy can do it, then I can do it.” Some of these guys were city boys and not used to rough work, but we had been brought up with not the best living condition so we didn’t expect a heck of a lot more out of the army.
    Everything was very competitive: between the companies, between the platoons, and definitely with the Japanese—that’s the reason we marched to Atlanta.
    After jump training at Benning we went across the river to Camp Mackall, North Carolina. We did the same thing—lots of marches and runs, and more jumps, at least one a week. It was summer, hot and miserable. We had jiggers to contend with, the little bugs, but we still horsed around and were never too serious about anything. That’s what I remember most about the service: the good times, the camaraderie with the fellows. We’d pick on guys. One guy didn’t like creepy-crawly stuff, snakes, spiders or lizards, so we put lizards in his trunk and ammunition bag—always something like that. Floyd Talbert was often a target. Walter Gordon was brilliant and could think of more ways to tease a guy—he was usually one of the ringleaders. Paul Rogers was always making up songs about guys. If a fellow had a weakness, you wrote a song or a poem about him. The whole company seemed to blend together; it didn’t matter if you were the target of a joke or