We arrived in Hamburg, Germany and trucked over to the small town of Oldenburg near the Baltic Sea, between Lubeck and Kiel where we were bivouaced on a German Army base there. We set up our operations initially near a very large clear area with several hills around. In the morning we awakened to some live firing artillery in the area and it turned out that we had been set in an active range! So, we hastily moved, and set up our permanent camp in a safer place! (Should have been a clue....)
After a few days of getting things in order we were granted liberty in the local town of Oldenburg. Our 6x6 trucks transported us from the camp, about 2 miles from the front gate and then other 3 miles to town (distances are rough estimates), and then back again when curfew began to near, usually 2200. We all enjoyed our first night's liberty and the trips to town became the end of a normal operational day. The local folks were very friendly and had agreed to accept American currency, and, they worked very hard to understand English, as we tried to understand German. Over all, the locals liked us, and we liked them.
On our last day of operations, we wrapped up and buttoned down all the radars and equipment and prepared for our last night of liberty in Oldenburg. Liberty call went out and about two to three trucks worth of Marines descended upon the poor town of Oldenburg. This mass attack was led by our fearless leader Captain Wes Clymer....
Everyone ate, drank and made merry, and, as it became later, all the Marines began gathering at the local pub where the trucks were to pick us up. Twice, Captain Clymer sent the trucks back to camp to come later...everyone was having a real good time! Eventually, it became very late, the pub had run out of Jaegermeister, and had almost run out of Apfelkorn. The local pub-master had been giving out free drinks and said that he would do one more round if the Marines could sing a Beach Boys tune. Well, we all looked at each other and all together began singing California Girls. He filled everyone's glass one more time and awarded us a Glass Boot (a real boot-shaped glass, about two liters in volume, from which the Germans drank beer, some of them in one gulp!).
Well, the trucks had quit coming and when the pub closed there was no way for the Marines to get back to camp. Everyone was 'feeling no pain' and Captain Clymer looked around for the most sober marine...me...and put me in a cab and told me to get a truck and return. Ok, no problem....except that at the very last minute, before I could close the door, someone shoved a very drunk, very nearly passed out Lcpl Davies in my lap to go along for the ride...ok, no problem.....riiiight!
(Now, this is where my story separates from the actual march. Others will have to fill that part in.) Well, off the cab went toward the German base. We arrived at the gate pretty quickly, but, he stopped and would not enter the base! The base regulations forbade the cab to enter! Lcpl Davies (still nearly out, but barely able to walk) and I got out of the cab at the gate and I began to try to speak to the gate guard. Knowing that the Captain was waiting on me, it was important that I get to our camp in a reasonably timely manner. I tried to communicate to the guard, who spoke no English, that I needed a ride to our camp. He didn't understand! He understood that I needed to get to the camp, but not that I needed a ride. So, I started off, with Lcpl Davies' arm around my neck, half carrying him, in the direction which the guard pointed me.
After about 2 hundred yards, Lcpl Davies passed completely out. He fell from my grasp and lay there on the ground. I just looked at him. Lcpl Davies was 4 inches taller than me and weighed at least 50lbs more than I....and he was passed out right there in the road at about 2am in the morning, and the Captain was waiting on us! Well, in the best Marine Corps tradition, I worked for about 10 minutes to try to get him in a positon where I could get him up on my shoulder in the fireman's carry. I finally got him up there...God, he was heavy!... and started off in the direction we were headed. He then puked down my back....I was afraid to stop, because I didn't think I could get him back onto my shoulder. Well, after a while, I just HAD to put him down, so, I did....bad mistake. Sure enough, I couldn't get him back up on my shoulder. So I began to drag him.....
After about a mile (and a very long time) I hit another check station with a guard. This guard spoke some English and understood that I needed a ride for me and Davies to our camp and radioed to his supervisor that information. After about 30 minutes (for which I was pacing up and down his little cabin there) his supervisor showed up and they helped me put Davies in the vehicle and we were taken to our camp.
Well, I got out of the vehicle and told the camp guards to put Davies
in his rack. I went straight over to the Motor T Chief's,
Gysgt Goolsby, tent and woke
him up to get a truck out to the Captain. We wrangled a driver, got
the truck started up and headed back to town. We drove about 100
yards when ahead in our headlights was Captain Clymer and the whole
platoon of drunk Marines! They had marched (probably staggered would
be a better discription
It was a real adventure! And the funniest thing that happened to me
in 8 years in the Corps. I just wrote this from memory, if anyone
knows more details, or remembers something differently than I, please
drop me a line.