GI Jewish Soldiers 1941-1945

[Daryavesh]

links of interest
https://www.aish.com/ci/s/Heroism-and-th...html?s=mpw
Why Were the Graves of So Many Jewish GIs Marked by a Cross? (aish.com)

Nooone, what is mentioned in the article you posted remained the case far longer than the 1940s. When I enlisted in the Marine Corps in 1966, I had 'No Pref' stamped on my ID tags. I did that because I was well aware of what it is like to be on the receiving end of anti-semitism. And years later when I returned to military service (Navy that time)...... I had my ID tags stamped in the same way. Here is why......

Our family are Sephardim. And unlike many Ashkenazim, we seldom lived in places where there were other Jews when I was growing up. Let alone a synagogue. So our Mom instructed us to maintain a low profile, observe others and learn to 'fit in'.

Worse yet...... Of all the places to live...... My years in grammar school and juniour high school were spent in a small Texas town that (at the time) was the regional headquarters (for several states) of the Ku Klux Klan. I have no idea how they figured out that Mom, Sis and I were Jews...... But once that happened, I was jumped by 3 or 4 older and larger boys once or twice a week for several years running.

My Dad was nearly 50 when I came along and passed away when I was very young. Mom remarried several years following to a man from Louisiana. He was a tough old bird from an old Creole French family who were living there when the Acadians came down from Canada in the mid-1700s. Following the 2nd World War, he worked as a carpenter and in his younger days had worked on the docks in New Orleans and made money on the side as a bare knucks prize fighter. He was also well studied in savate. 

So when I would come home following one of these 3 or 4 on one dustups with the older, larger sons of the Ku Kluxers, Mom would patch (and sometimes sew) me up. And when he got home from work, my Step-dad would ask me how it went and give me a few tips 'for next time'. And so it went. Truthfully, I don't recall ever winning a single one of those beat downs. I fought them each time and punched and kicked back at them until my arms and legs would no longer move.

But I never gave in. In fact, the only thing I learned from those painful experiences was never to give up. A very important life lesson. And after a number of years, these older boys stopped ganging up and jumping me. Apparently, they developed a grudging respect for the fact that I never asked quarter nor gave none. And not long after, I was invited to supper with one of their families. That went well. As long as I didn't make eyes at their sisters. As they say in the bayou country...... That dog don't hunt.

Many years later when I was visting my folks, I asked my Step-dad man to man 'What were you thinking?!?' moving us to that place? And he just looked up and grinned and said that he thought I was too sensitive as a child, so he moved us there (to quote from a popular Johnny Cash song of the time) 'Cause I knew you'd have to either get tough or die!' And in hindsight...... He was right. That life lesson (never give up) got me through quite a few bad scrapes. Some of which, I was the sole survivour.

In the Marine Corps over in Viet Nam, we never saw a rabbi anyway. Our chaplains were either Catholic or protestant Christians. I liked the Catholic chaplains best. They gave us these little wafers and a sip of wine. And in the field, we seldom had enough C-rats to eat, so that was much appreciated.



Was just thinking of buddies who didn't make it when I saw this thread here. Will never know why I am here and they are not. But G-d has a plan for us all and I must accept that and honour their memories. It is said that those who have passed on know when they are thought of kindly by family and friends still earthbound. For as long as they are remembered by the living, it as if they are still amongst us here, as well. And I believe that.

The photo above was taken by my friend Robert who was injured and riding on the back of the tank we were following. He was lost soon after when we were sent up to Con Thien as replacements. I am in the center talking to Sgt. Harris...... He's the big guy wearing the gov'mt issue glasses. I'm a skinny 6' 1-1/2" and 185 lb. there, 19 years old. Sgt. Harris was about 6' 3" and had a good 20 lbs. on me. We lost him at Con Thien, as well. Like Robert, he had a million jokes to tell. I remember the first time he told me about the 'Oh, No!' bird. Still smile every time it comes to mind.

Last time I saw him was about 3:00 or 4:00 AM 8 May, '67. We were on the hill at Con Thien, along the DMZ. I was told later the NVA sent 2 battalions to try and push us off the hill. Including the 11th Engineers, a handful of SeaBees and Army Spec Forces guys and the 30 or so Nung mercenaries they were riding herd over, we had about 246 men on the hill at the time and after the shelling stopped, the NVA sent sappers up the hill and blew the perimeter wire on our right flank.

NVA eventually broke through the perimeter wire and overran a part of our position. Our guys were going at it hand to hand there. We soon ran out of illumination rounds and it was really dark. No moon that night. It was over 100 degrees and had rained earlier in the day so the red mud made it hard to move any distance quickly. Sgt. Harris came down the line passing the word to stay where we were and kill anything that moved. That was the last time I saw him alive.

Best regards to you all,

Daryavesh