MARK WALTER WHALEN,ESQUIRE  From a taped interview with Mark at his home in Havre, Montana 1995

Mark Walter Whalen was born August 4, 1919, the 1st of 8 brothers and sisters. One of the events he remembers most is a spelling contest. "I spelled it wrong - it must have been subconsciously, probably wanted to loose the contest - when they said the word 'wash.' The words were said out loud and then you spelled them. It was one of the last words in the whole spelling contest and why they didn't have the big words towards the end I don't know. The word was 'wash.' I spelled it 'warsh', just like Mom always said it on Monday; she never said it that way again."

After graduation from Stephen High School in 1936, Mark worked at various jobs. He peddled fish for a while; in one instance the car started blowing water out of the radiator and he found that the engine had a cracked head. He worked on various farms at harvest time. On one of these farms, a milk can fell and hurt his ankle. When the boss and the regular hired man came back he was paid off - that was your social security then. Sawing wood was another thing that Mark did. He and some buddies cut the back off a car and put a saw on it and went to
International Falls, Minnesota, and cut cord wood for a dollar. The wood cutting only lasted till after Christmas.

In 1940, he came to Montana, getting work on the Great Northern Railroad. He started doing his apprentice time as a brakeman but later that year he changed to switchman and stayed with that job outside of his service in World War 2.
 
 

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During his training for the railroad, Mark was around Shelby when the time came to register for the draft. He was inducted into the service in Butte, Montana in 1942. He had his basic training at Fort Lewis in Washington. He had tried to get into the Army Air Force, which turned out to be filled to the limit. Having the choice between the signal corps or chemical warfare and not knowing much of either, he chose the signal corps which sounded better.

During basic training the men slept in tents, and some- times put the legs of the cots in gallon buckets to keep them from sinking too much into the ground when it rained. It was much nicer waking up on a dry bed.

A new outfit was formed with guys from the 30th Signal Battalion and he went to signal operators classes where he learned to use the telegraph and teletype machines, and stringing wire. Mark left Fort Lewis in April 1942 for Camp Kilmer, New Jersey. There the men were marching with full packs on pavement in severely high temperatures.

North Africa

Abroad at the message center in Morocco, we had deals made up when we had room for them like made-up cupboards with holes where you could put stuff in. Messages came in sacks like mail bags with a strap around the top and a padlock. I would shake them out on the table and go through them; there was a box for each outfit marked with the name. I would sort the mail and messages by throwing them in the boxes (if you're aim is good). Otherwise, you had to place them in their spots when you got all the stuff done for the night, all the sacks emptied, and everything all sorted out of them. You'd have to put the stuff out of each box into a separate package or sack because the jeeps would leave in the morning going to various outfits and dropping them off. We were in Casablanca delivering messages to Fidela, and Rabat; Meknes, Fez, and Safi were other headquarters that were located in the other direction. You would drop off the messages for those outfits in that area, and they would come into that headquarters and get their messages. I went from Casablanca to Safi which was about 165 miles one way - then Meknes and Fez which were just about as far the other way. Fidela and Meknes were on the road to Fez. Maybe we'd get out of Casablanca about noon; then we'd try to get up that 165 miles by dark - then turn and be back by morning. We were only supposed to drive 35 mph, which was the rules. As soon as we'd leave camp, we'd raise up the hood and get a hold of that governor rod to the carburetor and put a big bend in it so she'd go faster. I remember one time coming down this hill - the speedometer on the jeeps only went to 60 mph; anyway, we had the needle clear around to zero and back to 15. You got her up to 15 and then you'd see a narrow bridge that looked dam narrow. We had one guy killed on that run. I was pretty careful after we'd made the trip a few times; I had a pretty good idea where the curves were coming up in the road and slowed down for 'em.

That's where I started learning a word or two of French when there was a sign with a zig-zag and an arrow on it beside the road with French words. I said this must mean dangerous curve; I'd better slow down here. The same with narrow bridge, I got the idea the sign said narrow bridge. We used to stop for supper at a town named Mazagan (Morocco), more or less half way.

There was another place right on the coast after Mazagan; there was a little cafe and bar, and we'd stop by there. We'd say we were going on into Safi, could we have supper, and they said sure. We'd have some money and there wasn't many people traveling up and down that road; they'd like to get a little American dollars. I heard afterwards the guy wasn't actually a Frenchman; he was a German Spy. But anyway, we'd stop at that place. It was right on the coast; you could look out his back door on a cliff and a beach.

This town of Mazagan, it was kind of like a Havre in Hill County, rather like a county seat town. We used to stop at this town of Mazagan and they had a restaurant there. There wasn't a lot of stuff you could get; but they evidently had eggs, and you could get an omelette. This was very nice, since we never got any in the Army; all we got was dried powdered eggs which wasn't very good at all. We'd go in there and they had this French Police Station in there; so we'd take our jeep and they'd run it into the courtyard. Practically all the buildings went around and they had a gate in there. One of the locals, French or Arab, was a Policeman of some type who would keep an eye on our stuff so nobody would steal it. We'd go over to this restaurant, and we'd have our dinner there. Of course we weren't supposed to be doing that; we weren't given any money to do this. You were supposed to get to a certain place and you'd eat at another Army outfit.

We were sitting in this deal and man it was a big celebration day, we finally found out. Somebody could talk a few words of English or a couple words of French, got to ask what's going on. They had parades on, the women carrying their family banners that all had signs on them. The country people there didn't read or write. This family had a snake for a sign and this family had something else for a sign. These women were all in their best, which were silks clear to the ground and up to their eye balls, which was the custom over there among the Mohammedans who were carrying flags up the street. There must have been 50 or 60 wives, hey these must be different families. They were singing and hollering, a little campaigning. Its an election day and they were electing a Sherf. In Morocco, the Sherf is practically the same as Sheriff here, but he's more important. The Sherf was the only elected official they had! We were sitting in this restaurant, me and this guy Wilson. There's a bunch of old Arab guys, and man they had their beards all combed out and all cleaned up wearing their best robes clear to the ground and were drinking Strawberry pop. A good Mohammedan doesn't drink alcoholic beverages. They were all talking together with their hands, and I said, "Wilson, do you know what those guys are talking about?" Wilson replied, " What the hell do I know what they're talking about; I don't speak Arab."" No, but just watch em." Wilson said, I don't see anything; what are you figuring out anyhow? Mark replied," These guys are farmers,"Wilson; how do you know, you don't speak Arab?" Mark said," Yeah, but I'm watching their hands." One said to another, how's the crops up your way? The other guy says. the barley is only about that high and the grasshoppers are eating it all up. I couldn't understand a word they said, but I knew what they were talking about. We drove for miles through places where there was anything growing and it was barley which was only so high and the grasshoppers had got to it.

We get back to this place, I guess it was kind of a resort in peace time. They'd have a chicken dinner ready for us or some- thing; then we'd sit around there, eat and have a couple glasses of wine, pay the man, and be back to Casablanca by morning.

We left Casablanca in the spring and went into Algiers. I don't know if we were supposed to or not. This guy, who was in charge of us, this warrant officer in this GI truck, he had some furniture that belonged to some people in Casablanca. They asked if he could take it over to Algiers to their brother-in-law. Being a nice fellow and we had room on the truck, we brought it along. So we went to Algiers, I don't know if we were supposed to but we did. We were at somebodies headquarters overnight; then we went over to Constantine (Algeria) that's where the outfit was.

We were running a message center out of there, up to Phillipeville (now Skikda), Djellai, Moshi, and Tanzania. We were going out several directions with these messages.

After the invasion of Sicily was over - by that time the American army had captured Tunisia and knocked the hell out of the Africa Corps - we went down to Tunis (Tunisia) and over to Bizerte. They had a big tent camp up there; and we stayed there until we got on boats and went to Italy.

When I was at Constantine, they had a signal corps school of some type back at Oran. So they sent me and four guys for a three weeks deal. I forget what we were supposed to learn. We didn't learn anything; anyhow, we weren't interested. We'd just as soon drive jeeps and look at the country.

I put these circles on this map for some reason; it seems like they had a cross-Africa race at one time. It was a race across the Sahara Desert.

But anyhow, we were up there at Oran. The funny part of it is they gave us training on map-reading when we were in basic training; and nobody ever gave anybody a map after that - we didn't have any. We never had a map of anything. So when we went out of Casablanca, they said "Take this up to Fidela"; we said "Well, where the hell is Fidela?" "Well, that's the first town up the road here." They took down the road signs because they didn't want the Germans to know something - just as though the Germans didn't have better maps than anybody else did. But nobody ever gave anybody a dam map. The only reason we got back from Constantine to Oran was because there was only one dam road. It was the same thing in Italy. We're going here and going there Maybe you went along with the guy who had been there before the first time. After that, then you were the expert.

This one time we had a detachment. We were in Naples - I can't think of the name of the town - (I found out when I got back to the United States that it was the name of the home town of several guys whom I knew in Havre). There was a bunch of engineers down there cutting trees down and making telephone poles out of them; and they were shipping them north on these GI trailers or on the railroad - they got the railroad running again. They were shipping them on the railroad up to where the army was fighting the Germans. We needed telephone poles to put up telephone wires for communication with each other. We had this detachment one time - I think it was six or seven guys who were down there at that time - they were keeping track of how many poles were being shipped to where and sending messages back. When the poles got to Naples, or wherever they were supposed to go, somebody would be there to get the poles off the trucks so nobody would steal them.

There was only one road running the length of Italy; it ran down around the Apennine Mountains. We zig-zagged down through there and got the mail for those guys. I had this Lieu- tenant in charge and we had this 3/4 ton weapons carrier. We got down there after an all-day drive, stayed overnight, and gave these guys their mail. I think the Lieutenant had the payroll to pay those guys; they hadn't gotten paid in several months of being down there. I scared this Lieutenant plum to death; I know that the 3/4 ton weapons carrier practically couldn't be turned upside down. You could make it slide, which I did, and he pretty near squeezed off the windshield posts hanging on. He's screaming "Slow down! Slow down!" I said "Yes, Sir! Yes, Sir!"; and I'd slow it down. Pretty soon we'd come over another hill, and it would wind up again; I made a nervous wreck out of him. I hated officers anyhow - thought they knew it all, and they didn't know anything. I acted real surprised when I found out that thing was doing 60 mph; I'd slow it up, and pretty soon I'd let it go again.

The best trip I ever made was when we had this 3/4 ton Dodge; and this guy who usually drove it found out that if you put some airplane gas in, it would go a little faster. Where we got our gas, they had like a little 1/4 section of five-gallon cans. You went down one row and left your empty cans; then you picked up so many of these cans to fill your jeep up. Then you brought the empties back and signed your name. Anyway, this guy had discovered that you could add a can of airplane gas along with that red gas we used; it seems to me that airplane gas had a green color to it. One can of airplane gas along with four cans of the other gave the jeep a little spunk. Well, he made a mistake; he put in four cans of airplane gas and one can of red gas. When he got where he was going, he shut it off and the motor part of it kept spinning. When he got his messages delivered there, he went to start it up and it just spun like there was nothing inside - no motor or pistons at all, it never started again. He never did tell the Captain what happened with it. They decided to take it to Philipeville (Skikda now) along the coast where there was an ordinance outfit. The ordinance, besides handling ammunition, also had charge of new motors. So anyway , me and old Sarge (Beastrum) went for a ride together since I didn't have to go to work until the next day. We're going over to Bone and get this 3/4 ton and take it to Philippeville; and we get over to where the jeep was and we put a log chain on that outfit. I'm sitting in the back of it and he's pulling me. We come up to the top of this mountain; we have to go down the other side - we're going to Philippeville. I honked the horn at him; he stops to see what the trouble was. "I said Pappy, let's unhook that chain". He said, "what for? Mark," I said holding the brakes down that hill I won't have no brakes anyway to keep from running into that truck of yours, just unhook that chain and you catch up with me at the bottom. The battery was getting down a bit, the lights weren't as good as they should be and there was a hitchhiker some GI going someplace and he was riding with me. Down the mountain we'd go, them 3/4 ton outfits were pretty solid and I'd use the breaks once an while. Not very often cause I didn't want to slow it up to much, because of what I knew of the road there was going to some level spots and maybe some up hill so you want to keep a rolling. I suppose it was ten miles down that mountain, when we got down on the level down by the coast and she finally rolls to a halt. I just sat there and waited for old Pappy to catch up with me. That guy who was with me, he was squeezing so hard he nearly tore the seat apart. He was nervous like that Lieutenant. Finally Beastrum catches up with me in that 2 1/2 ton GMC log chain and we went on in and dropped it of wherever we were going and headed for home, back to Constantine. We got there about morning , that was the most fun I'd had in a long time. Dragging it down there with no motor, the battery going down and the lights just a glowing out there and there was no moon or nothing, but it was fun. What a tour, what a tour!.
 

The motor Sergeant he got the idea when I wasn't working at something else and wasn't doing any driving they put me to work standing on my sore feet throwing those messages in them boxes. I wasn't driving anymore, for one thing I'd show up for work sober and some of the guys weren't to good at that. They figured I was kind of a reliable type fellow, I'd work that night shift or afternoon, a lot of guys didn't ant to do that. I'd work all night and get off in the morning, that way you'd get away from people who'd make you put on neck ties and salute.

I worked with this Wilson kid, he was from Minnesota. I worked with him for a couple of years; if I did go out on a messenger deal he was generally my driver. When it got dark he'd say I can't see nothing, he'd say you want to drive for a while? I'd say get over, I couldn't see nothing either but he didn't realize how little you had to see to get down the road.

Like that one time I ran up to the back of that tank, I thought the dark was getting awful black up there, so I slowed up. When I slowed down I could hear it, I could hear them tank tracks. We finally got around them , which took us the rest of the night I guess. No time to get in a hurry then.

This one time I had a Lieutenant that was taken someplace. We were going around the edge of these mountains, and the moon was shining bright; it's night and we're not supposed to have any lights on. I'm sailing along at 60 mph, and the poor guy was a nervous wreck; all he could say was "Slow down!". The road was kind of a lighter color than the country around it. We were running along there at 60 mph and thinking nothing of it. The moon was shining; we didn't have no lights on. I used to enjoy scaring the hell out of those Lieutenants from the States. I could drive when it was pretty darn dark; and I could tell that there was dark, and there was black; and you want to go where it's dark and not where it's black. I never had any problem of that kind, but some of the guys just got scared. They got scared because they couldn't see like in broad daylight; but you didn't have to. But you did have to be pretty careful not to go too fast at night.

On a map an inch is less than 200 miles. I think to Constantine it was about 1,200 miles from Casablanca and Oran was 600 miles back towards Casablanca as I remember. We never had any maps, after all that training how to read maps nobody gave us one. They was probably afraid that if we had one we'd mark on it where we were going; they was afraid if we marked on it someone would capture us and know what we were up to. Here we were back on our own side of the lines and there were no Germans operating around where we were anyhow. I think they just didn't want us to know where we were going, so we wouldn't get to familiar with the country.

When you're driving on this road and there's mountains between there and the coast and then mountains behind you, this road went through more or less was like a valley. Merekesh, Fez, and Mecnes were all places in Morocco. Back in where there were very few people and no reason for us to have any army stuff back in there because of supplies further up where you could get stuff off boats, put it on a railroad or highway and haul it up to them. Staying just so far away from the sea so a submarine couldn't hit you with a torpedo.

The German Air Force got pretty shot up over in Libya and all those places anyway. They had the same over in Italy and Sicily which was a long way to come over. Spain was neutral. They didn't do us too much harm with airplanes. After we got in there we had enough navy stuff out in the water, they weren't sneaking around too much with their submarines either because we'd bomb the hell out of em. We weren't worried; once and a while somebody flew over with a plane, some kind of observation plane. We'd say "oh, oh here comes Charlie again". Called him Maytag Charlie, he had some kind of engine on his little old plane that went brup brup brup. Called him Maytag Charlie cause that's the way the old washing machines use to sound. The same over in Italy.

From Naples we went to Cosenza, Italy down there in the bottom of the boot. Cosenza, that's the town that Sam Mazzuca and Louie Granier came from, it was their hometown. When I came back from the army, got back working on the railroad, this Italian guy Mario Barsanti was married to Eva McMahan who was a school teach er at St. Jude's. Mario was related to these Graniers and Mazzucas. Where were you in Italy; in Italia? I told them where I was at. When they heard I was at Cosenza the wine really came out and the good cookies and everything. I was only there one day so what did I know, I told them what I could remember, what a nice town it was.

That's where they were shipping those telephone poles. Campania was the big headquarters over there; once in a while we'd get over to Foggia which was the bombing base for aircraft, I was on the other side.

Anzio Nettuno, where the 3rd Division went in, that's where Don George of Havre spent a whole bunch of the spring getting shot at by the Germans. Most of the time I was out with this detached service, with this bunch of guys out of Pozzuoli. We were running communications for these guys who were trucking supplies up to Anzio. The way they would do it, they would come in the hills, gather in here during the daytime with their trucks loaded with bombs and groceries and everything else they needed back in the hills someplace. There was an area where there was trees and shade where they could hide till night. At night they would go down to Pozzuoli where they had the docks and stuff and they'd run these trucks out to these LST's, landing ship tanks. They'd drive right in em and then they'd shut the door and take off for Anzio in the night. Try to get to their destination and get unloaded. Drive their trucks right off em and get under cover for daytime; the next night they'd go back for another load. They got very nervous too; if they heard an airplane go over them truck drivers, they were getting away from them bombs on. You'd hear a flight of birds and that was the truck drivers taking off through the trees and getting on the other side of the road before somebody could drop a bomb and they'd get hit.

We were in Italy at Caserta and Santa Maria on detached service with the 5th army; this river the Venturno had to be crossed before you could push the Germans back. They tried it several times and it didn't work too good, but finally they made it. It seems to me that the river went to Cassino and then up the coast by Fondi. I stepped out of tents where we were working at midnight and I heard a crash; then all of a sudden I didn't hear anymore. The sky north of us was just like the Northern Lights; it was lit up. I didn't find out what was going on until the next morning. They were firing every cannon they had at them Germans; just about as close as they could pin cannons together. After the first shot, the sound was around you so much you couldn't hear it. For some reason you couldn't talk to the guy standing next to you and he couldn't hear; you couldn't hear him.

Then when they broke through and took Rome, we moved up to Rome. I was in this town called Civitavecchia which means the old town that was the big city before they built Rome and it was still there. Vecchia means old; Civita means city. Went up to Grosseto, I didn't get as far as Firenze (Florence). It was somewhere out of Grosseto where I visited with Leo McGuinn from Havre; I hitchhiked up there. I heard his outfit was up there, because working in that message center we kind of had an idea where things were at. My cousin Vic ( Sinnott ) was over in some area; not having no maps how do you know where a place is. Some body would say I think it's down that road, so we'd get to hitch hiking. This one time I was riding with this one guy, I think I was going to see Vic. I'm riding on this truck and all of a sudden I hear a machine gun and I say to the truck driver, that don't sound like one of ours and he agreed. He said I wonder if I'm on the wrong road. I said you might be. He replied, I think I'll turn around and go back a ways and I'll find out about this deal up here. It wasn't his business to get all shot to hell either; so I hitchhiked up another direction and finally got up where Vic was.

One time I went up to see somebody; I rode up on what they called a C47, DC3's the old army work horse airplane. We went out of Naples. I forget where Abelino or someplace, that is where they had an airport. I said; where you guys going? "We're going up to Grosseto" or wherever it was. Hey can I go along with you and they said sure. I guess it was after we came back from Rome to Naples again before we were going back to France, but we didn't know that.

I went up in that country there, I think this was after we went back to Rome from southern Naples before we went back to France. We wasn't doing much their and I managed to get away from cam a few times their. One of those times I rode up in a plane and back in a another one. Another time I rode up in a plane and came back in a cattle truck, an Italian cattle truck with about 50 people in it with most of em standing up cause there wasn't room to sit down. I rode all night in that thing getting back to Naples. The box cars they had in World War 1 (called em 40 and eights) were not all that big, they were supposed to haul huit chevalle which is eight horses or coronteone which is 40 men. That's all, everybody had to stand up which they did do. I mean this cattle truck about World War 2 time was a pretty good sized truck it was about the size of one of them box cars. I would say the box on it was about eight foot wide and sixteen to twenty feet long. I wouldn't know for sure if there was 40 people, but it felt like it; nobody had had a bath in months, so it was a little strong. When the wind come up and it got a little cold, you didn't mind if you were standing next to some fat mama who stunk a little bit because she was keeping the wind off of you. I got a ride down to Rome in the cattle truck; and then this truck was going to Naples - it must have been somewhere they were selling gas. I asked them if I could go along and they said "Sure". Of course I was using my bastard Italian on them, and they were using their bastard English on me. I think we got the gas from the American Army on a black market deal from some crooked soldier; but they didn't think they should charge an American soldier for a ride.

I was smart enough in them days, when we were around Naples there working in the offices and stuff, we had to wear sun tan pants. Cotton pants and shirts which are heavy but durable, but the hottest damn things you could wear when it was hot. Whenever I was leaving town for any reason, I'd put my wools back on, the OD's they'd call em, you had a wool shirt and pants. I remember hitchhiking up the road with the shirt tail out, every thing unbuttoned so the wind could blow through. In the mountains at night it would get chillier than hell, you'd button up your shirt and tuck it in and you'd survive the night. In the summer we didn't want to take jackets along. If you had your wool shirt and your wool pants, you just buttoned em up. You might be uncomfortable but you were not going to die; if you had them sun tan pants, you were boiling all day an freezing all night. Them wools would soak up the sweat; and if you had em hanging out loose, what little breeze there was would go through there and cool you down.
 
 

These guys were hauling supplies after the Germans got kicked out; and things were kind of starting up again so they had to have food from one town to another along with other things. Naples was the big port where all this food and stuff was coming in at; there was no place up there by Rome where they had a big port. A lot of the biggest part of that stuff came off the boats at Naples and then went by truck to Rome and those other places. There was not that many big places, there was Anzio Nettuno, they could bring their stuff in there but couldn't put big ships in there even after they got the Germans in where they couldn't shoot at them. The big ships all had to come into Naples; anyhow there was GI trucks hauling stuff and then some of these Italian guys that did have trucks got into the business or maybe the American Army was furnishing them with gas to haul this stuff or what was going on I don't know. I didn't know what was going on and it was none of my business, so lets not bother anybody.

We hears at the message center, I knew what outfit brother Steve was in because I got letters from him. We found out that his outfit had been down at Chartres in France. About the time the war got over, a little more over anyway, we got a new book that we used in our message center that said his outfit was now at Erfurt, Germany. Somebody else would cover my job for two or three days, so I go and talk to the first Sergeant. He thought that would be alright since I was going up to see my brother. I'm going up to Erfurt to see Steve, I hitchhiked up the Autobahn Took my jacket along and a spare pair of socks, really equipped Had my tommy gun and an extra magazine because there was Germans that hadn't surrendered out and about there in spots, that's the idea we had anyway. I get up to Erfurt, they had a military government. I found out where it was and I rode over there and I ask em where's X Ordinance Company? This guy looked up in his books and he said, well there supposed to be here but they haven't got here yet. I catch a ride back these guys and their hauling sugar from a big sugar company at Halley which is back towards where I'm going some from Erfurt. These guys are drinking wine and the brakes don't work to good and it's loaded to the top with sacks of sugar. We'd go through these little towns and the streets are just a bit wider than the truck, sliding around corners and it took seventeen pumps on the brake pedal before you'd get any brakes. It wasn't all that great of a truck and I'm afraid these drunken truck drivers are going to wreck this truck. I had to save their lives, I drunk all the wine I could so wouldn't have so much. After a while I was cheering em on. I hitchhiked into camp at Manhiem and I still got 24 hrs. left on my three day pass left, I looked around an nobody has missed me yet and ain't likely to for a day or two. Asked one of the guys that was sitting there, if they should call me to go to work say tomorrow night or whatever do you suppose you could take your day off? Could you handle it? Oh hell yes, go ahead. So I go down to the depot and they got a train that's going to Paris; so I get on the train. Those French trains they had like compartments and some of em didn't some of em didn't have an aisle past the compartments; they had outside doors and you went into your compartment from the out side. The compartment went clean across the train and some of em they had an aisle on one side maybe two foot wide; you got in there and got into your compartment which was about eight feet wide. There was room in there for about four guys to sit on each side of this compartment; and if their wasn't too many people, so many could lay down on the seats and so many on the floor. Then they had a luggage rack and if there wasn't any luggage rack, a couple of guys could slip into that and go into sleep too. If you got in there you didn't get up for anything, not even to go to the bathroom. You'd stay in there until you got where you were going or some body else would get it. We didn't pay no tickets; after all we conquered the damn country - why shouldn't we ride free? So anyway on that deal there I'm going down into France from Manhiem, Germany and I get to Paris. We came in on the Gare De North, which is the depot of the north. Somebody told me that Steve was at Chartres. Then you had to get on the Metro they called it, which is the subway and go clean across town on the south side of Paris and you get on Gare De Soude ? (the depot of the south). Then you get on a train out of there and head for Chartres, I get down there and Steve's outfit was already gone, so I catch the next train back to Paris and cross Paris again and I'm heading back which is where I run into that French soldier with that good bread and cheese and that bottle of Calvadose. I thought it was wine and took a big glug out of it, I realize that you could put that stuff in your gas tank or radiator it wouldn't have made no difference. It was considerably stronger than whiskey.

I finally got back to Manhiem. This conductor come along; ticket, ticket. Everybody is supposed to get their tickets out and he gets to me and says ticket and he looks at me an I say ticket qu'est que c'est ticket,"what is this ticket?" Ah, these Americans! and he pulled his hair heading down just a cursing and a howling. You ain't going to collect on no American, so you might as well forget about that.

After that when we went back to France from Germany when we were supposed to be getting on our way home, the war was over then. We were at Compiegn I think was the name of the town, it was in the champagne wine growing area. We were up towards Belgium. When we went home we came through Belgium, Brussels to Antwerp where we caught a boat out of there. Anyway when we were up here at Reims, I heard Steve's outfit is back at Chartres again. He'd been up there to Germany and they'd moved back to Chartres and they were about to go back home too. His outfit had been over there, well they call it Iran now, I think they called it Persia at that time I think. He'd been up there about three years. Anyway the First Sergeant told me to get a trip ticket from the motor Sergeant and take these bunch of guys into Paris they could have three days off. He said you'd better be back there when they ready to come back to camp, he didn't tell me were I was supposed to go. I knew where I was going, I was going to Chartres. I was a very popular fellow around there, a T5 with his own jeep. Then I came back into Paris and up to Reims or wherever we were at that time. We were at Compiegne after we came back from Germany to France through the Saar Basin through Ludwigshafen, and wound up in Reims, France. The we went up here through Brussels into Antwerp, the boats could come clear into Antwerp. That Belgium is a place where you can get mixed up too, because the South half they speak French and in the North half they speak Holland Dutch or very close to it. They're a very peaceful people; they've been getting along that way for a thousand years and they're still speaking their language and getting along. I got back over there to Chartres and Steve was back there - his whole outfit. They were thinking about getting ready to go home; and the war was over and the amount of time you had in the service and time spent overseas made points for getting out. Steve had been over about as long as I had and had been in the Army about as long too. We had all kinds of points as far as getting discharged, but the main thing is how the hell you get home. They have to get you on a boat to get you home.

We went out of Antwerp - it seems to me it was about fifteen days on that boat. It was one of them victory ships that they built for WW11 for freighters. That was a pretty good trip; that old boat was going like that. Sometimes the prop was out of the water and the whole thing was shaking like a dog getting water off its back, and the nose was plum down under the water and then she'd come up again. Some people were sick but I never got sick. We landed, well we came back into New York and then we went back over to Camp Kilmer, New Jersey where we left from in the first place. Then everybody that was going back to the Midwest; they shipped them to Camp McCoy, Wisconsin. After they looked us all over and gave us some shots, me and the First Sergeant got on to a train. We went by St. Paul, Minneapolis, I think Frances was teaching school at Austin at that time. The First Sergeant got off at Austin, Minnesota where he lived; there was no use me getting off in Austin because school hadn't started and Frances wasn't there. Then I went to St. Paul where Bette was taking nurses training; I stayed there a couple of days and visited with some cousins, then got on a train and went to Stephen, Minnesota.

I stayed home on the farm for about a month helping my Dad with his fall plowing and stuff like that. I had to milk fourteen cows because John and Dad hadn't got back from town and the cows couldn't stand waiting. I decided what am I doing here working here for nothing when I can be making money in Montana. I went to town to the depot and they sent a message to Havre; they sent me a deal back and the guy at the depot he made me a pass to ride the train and somebody gave me a ride to Grand Forks and I got on the train and came back to Havre and went to work on the rail road. The day after I left the farm they put in a milking machine, they'd already figured on having that but they hadn't got it yet.

In September of 1950 Mark and Audrey Hawley Harris were married. She had two children from a previous marriage. Marks step children, John Harris born July 28, 1946 and Bonnie Harris born December 5, 1948.Mark and Audrey three children, Frances Elizabeth (Beth) born December 28, 1950, Terrance James born June 30, 1952, Blythe born April 14, 1954. Mark and Audrey were divorced in 1962.Mark

Stephen

Daniel

During his career on the railroad, he worked as a brakeman, switchman, switch foreman and yardmaster. He retired on his birth day August 4, 1979.

Mark and Kay Henry married in 1988 and are living at 1123 Boulevard Avenue in Havre, Montana. They have no kids of their own, but many between them.

Mark has worked on cars, pickups, farm machinery and just about anything that has had a motor and wheels. He's done it for family, friends and strangers. If there ever was an unsatisfied customer, the person knew little on how a vehicle works. I' proud to say that this writer is among the many who have had the finest quality of work, thank you Uncle Mark!

Note Fom Frances: I was surprised to read in Mark's story that he did not come to visit me in Austin, Minnesota after the war. If no, who was that handsome Sargeant who came to see me? He looked like Mark and talked like Mark. After giving him a hug and and tears of welcome I had to go teach 5th gradewhile he visited with my landlady and the zonked out on my bed for the rest of the day.When school was out, he came there and I introduced him to all of my teacher friends.He kidded me sbout "showing him off".
 

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