GI Jewish Soldiers 1941-1945

[Nooone]

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)

[Alan_Boskov]

...it quickly became apparent that the Jewish GIs were not missing, after all – they were misidentified...

Given the constellation of today's armed forces, forensic identification would be even more difficult. Here in Germany and probably everywhere else in Europe, a cross is always added behind the names of each and every fatality victim of whom is reported in news articles. Since an evergrowing percentage of the population is becoming Moslem and Athiest, I always wonder as to why nobody in the media ever takes oversight.

...During World War II, some Jewish GIs requested a C or a P – or “N,” for no religious preference – for fear of persecution...

Nowadays, they could just designate non-traditional religions by appointing upside-down crosses for Satanist GIs, star & crescents for Muslims and no designation whatsoever for Athiests.

...for fear of persecution if they were taken prisoner by the Germans...

That wouldn't help much, if that particular soldier happened to be named Abe Rabinowitz or Mauri Schneiderman.

[Alan_Boskov]

Here's an example of Twitter avoiding adding a cross to a dead Muslim. This is an example of finding out what you want to know, through their attempts at hiding it:



If anybody's curious as to what the article states: https://www.20min.ch/story/die-familie-i...0712557426

Reading between the lines, gang violence liberated Switzerland of one more gangster.

[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

[Blue Bird]

Hello Daryavesh, thank you for telling your story. Nice picture of you. I'm sorry that you lost your friends.

[Daryavesh]

Thanks for your kind words, Blue Bird. Yes, we lost quite a few young men at that time. Not sure how best to say this, but much of the time I feel as though I have one foot in 1967 and one foot in the here and now. Reckon its just that way for some of us. I see and hear those guys in my dreams at night and I want to change what happened but I can't. Always ends the same. But I won't let them go. Not until I join them.

The photo was taken in April of 1967 between Dong Ha and Cam Lo, North of Highway 9 and East of the bridge. That's me...... Center front, with an old WW II era M2 carbine. They took our M14s and I hated the M16 as much as I hated red mud and shaving. Made a deal with an ARVN (South Vietnamese) Sgt. for the M2 and beaucoup .30 cal. ammo and 30-round banana clip mags. Traded him several cases of C-rations (all Ham and Lima beans) for them.

You see, I had a little side hustle going on back then...... Didn't smoke nor drink coffee, so I bartered and traded C-rats, smokes and other items. I wouldn't touch Ham and Lima beans, of course. Besides not being Kosher...... They must have tasted really awful, for even the goyim would rather starve than eat them. We had a name for them, but I cannot repeat it in polite company. Suffice to say I had a lot of them I wasn't able to move (trade for anything), as nobody else wanted them, either. Also saved sugar, cream and cocoa packets and a few dessert rations to trade.

Exception was at Con Thien. NVA walked artillery across our position daily and whenever we had a Huey drop down anywhere near the LZ. There were days when we were lucky to have 1 issue of C-rats (1 meal). Some days, we had none. When I first got there, I wasn't sure whether I'd starve first or get it from incoming. All I knew after talking to the guys who'd been there over a week was the odds weren't good for making it through a 30-day rotation.

I was looking for an M1 carbine when I was negotiating with the ARVN Sgt. Needed something I was familiar with. Something with a wooden stock and I needed something I could mount a bayonet on. Got lucky. He had an M2 (an M1 carbine with full auto selector). Wooden stock and foregrip were a little worse for wear, but it wasn't rusty (much).

The selector was stuck on single fire until I freed it up, though. Had to wrap cloth around the receiver and keep it damp with oil for a week until I could come up with a cleaning kit. But with a good cleanup and liberal amounts of elbow grease and Remington gun oil, the action and the selector were smooth as silk. Not long after that, we were sent up to Con Thien as a replacements.

Hadn't been there long before the NVA sent two battalions to try and push us off the hill at Con Thien. That was 8 May, 1967. We were up along the DMZ in Quang Tri Province. Close enough to see the Song Ben Hai meandering towards the sea. This was the river that separated North and South Viet Nam.

From what I was told later, we had about 246 men on the hill that night if you include the 11th Engineers, a handful of SeaBees, a dozen or so Army Green Berets and around 30 Nung mercenaries they were riding herd on. When the sun rose, we had 44 Marines KIA & 110 WIA, of which I was one. SeaBees had 5 WIA, Green Berets had 4 WIA and half their Nungs were KIA and the rest WIA.

I made it through several hours of the fighting. Fired off all my ammo including the 15 rounds I had for my M79 grenade launcher. Last I remember, it was pitch black except for the explosions and tracer rounds in all directions. I had run out of ammo and had broken the stock off my rifle. I was swinging my entrenching tool like a broad axe, as it was all I had left. This was a small shovel with a short folding handle. I kept the leading edge on mine as sharp as a razor 'just in case'.  

Was told later a satchel charge was most likely what got me. I recall coming around for a while as the sun rose. Couldn't get up, so sat there on the edge of a shell hole propped up on one elbow trying to keep breathing. At that time, there were still a few shots being fired as NVA that didn't make it out of the perimeter wire and wouldn't surrender shot it out with our guys and were finished off.

As I sat there, a young 2nd Lt. came by. Never saw him before. The carnage was awful. Dead and wounded from both sides were everywhere. I was 19 and he didn't look much older. He seemed as if in a daze. Kept asking 'How much longer (must this continue)?' I remember trying to get up and salute. But I couldn't. So I told him...... 'Sir, we will have war as long as men who are too old to fight send men who are too young to die to do their fighting for them.' And then I must have passed out again, for I only remember little bits of things for the next 10 days after I was medevac'd and ended up on a hospital ship (USS Sanctuary).

Best regards to you and yours,

Daryavesh

[Blue Bird]

What's a C-rat? I'm German and my good Google translator doesn't know it either.

I know the experience of living in long past situations and the feeling that there is no escape. You may have heard of post traumatic stress disorder. Our body /soul isolates life threatening experiences - physically they say in the amygdala - so a person can continue with his every day life and survive. But the damage in the soul isn't healed. Every time when a trigger comes along (or without a trigger), the old memories come back. It's a long way out of this dark hole, a lifelong process.

[Daryavesh]

Apologies, Blue Bird. When I think of those times, I forget that there are many terms and abbreviations we used in the military that those who are unfamiliar with them even here in America might need some explanation.

* C-rats is a shortend form of C-rations or Feldrationen fur Soldaten. In those days, we were given a small cardboard box and inside of it were a can (main course), a dessert (cookie or other), powdered coffe or cocoa, a sterno tab (chemical heating agent in a small metal container to warm food), a pack of cigarettes and other items. To save space here, I looked around the internet just now and found a good description of these here......

https://charliecompany.org/2018/08/25/c-rations/

I would save the items I did not use and trade them for items I wanted. I might add that in 1967, we were getting C-rations dated 1951 (Korean War era). Some of them, we looked forward to. Others such as the infamous Ham and Lima beans, even the goyim hated. It was these that I was able to trade the ARVN (Army, Republic of Viet Nam) Sergeant for the M2 carbine.

I will see if I can think of some abbreviations I may have used and clarify them a bit.

* NVA means North Vietnamese Army (soldier) - these were regulars - not 'irregulars' such as the VC (Viet Cong)

* LZ means 'landing zone' for helicopters. A hot LZ means a landing zone that is under fire by the enemy

* incoming means incoming artillery, rockets or mortars headed your way

* mags means magazines loaded with ammunition for your rifle (or pistol)

* 2nd Lt. is I believe, equivalent to rank of Leutnant

* Di di mau is Vietnamese for 'beat feet' or schnell in eine andere Richtung laufen

* beaucoup dien cai dau or 'dinky dau' is Vietnamese for extrem verruckt im Kopf

You are correct regarding PTSD, Blue Bird. In addition to the more usual circumstances one encounters in a war zone...... I found myself in an area that I was not supposed to be once and was fired on by the door gunner of a helicopter. Some call such instances 'friendly fire'. I do not agree. In my experience, no fire directed your way is 'friendly'...... No matter who is pulling the trigger. For many years after, it was all I could do not to dive under the nearest hedge row eveny time I heard a helicopter close by.

I will add that even if one is well versed in Torah and understands intellectually the distinction between killing in war or in defence of self or others unable to defend themselves...... As opposed to murder (the shedding of innocent blood)...... Every time you take a life, even if you do so to save a life...... It takes a piece of your humanity.

All the best,

Daryavesh

[Blue Bird]

Yes I heard about it. There is a documentary about Yoni Netanyahu who fought and killed in the war. I think it was in a letter where he also recalled the sadness about the killing. I also have a friend who accidently killed a man with his car. This happened so easily and it still affects him. I hate war because of the deaths, the suffering and lies that always go along with it.

Are you aware that there are some goyim here, too? But don't worry, most of the time we are nice.

Danke für die Erklärung, was eine C-rat ist. Unter Feldrationen für Soldaten kann ich mir schon etwas vorstellen. Der Link ist auch interessant. Das sechzehn Jahre alte Essen hätte ich stehenlassen, auch wenn das leckerste Menü drin gewesen wäre.

[Daryavesh]

Blue Bird, I believe all who must do such things in war have the same issues in varying degrees, depending upon the individual and the circumstances. And I would imagine it is the same for those civilians who must defend themselves against attackers and for first responders such as police, as well. More intense for those who place the sanctity of life at high imperative.

Yes, I heard of Bibi's brother's loss whilst freeing the hostages from the terrorists at the airport at Entebbe. I had returned to military service some months priour and was stationed in California at that time. My 2nd born son was 5 years of age then. His name is Jonathan (Yonaton) as well. My son Jonathan later served in the Marine Corps as did I and my Father before me.

I understand your concerns regarding the 16 year old C-rations. Honestly, we never thought much about their age at the time. This was long before expiration dates were marked on food packaging and they were all we had to eat in the field, as our position was so isolated. The supply people belived in rotating their stock. So we did not begin receiving more current dated C-rations until the supply of older ones were consumed.

When we were closer to our base camp, we ate at a field kitchen a couple of times. Food was prepared, cooked and served there. Much like a mess hall, only out in the open. Just between us...... I thought the better choices of C-rations tasted better. This was either because we were more acclimated to them by that time...... Or the fact that Marine Corps cooks in that place and time were notorius for preparing terrible tasting food. It was really awful.

Thanks for the heads up! Being new here myself, I had not considered those members who are not Jewish. I will take care not to say anything that might offend them. All are entitled to their beliefs and should be shown the utmost courtesy and respect. I know from first hand experience how it is when that is not the case.

Best regards,

Daryavesh