U.S. Army Serial Number 37531447

Approximately an hour later the building’s squeaking door announced another intrusion. In lumbered the shadowy hulk of a huge broad-shouldered soldier. His over-sized arms made him appear even larger. His legs appeared to be too short to balance his seemingly top-heavy upper body. He shuffled past my bunk and continued walking to the end of the barracks. I now realized this mammoth soldier was the "leaseholder" of the space that had been so methodically trashed. I didn’t have the slightest clue how the gigantic man would react to the surprise "how-do-you-do" currently awaiting him.

With pulse rate rapidly accelerating, I mentally began making my escape plan from the building if danger appeared to be eminent. I earlier had recalled observing a big heavy iron poker by the large pot-bellied coal stove located close by. Perhaps I could use this object as a defensive weapon if need be. I firmly held my ground and continued to observe and assess this intriguing volatile situation.

To my complete astonishment – no words were audibly spoken by the sergeant as he scanned the damage and no sign of visible anger was detected. Adding to my further amazement, this huge man dropped down on both knees at bedside and in childlike fashion appeared to be praying. He spoke so softly I was unable to hear the words of his prayer. Completing his invocation, he removed his work uniform and fell fast asleep on what little remained of his bed.

My thoughts returned to the staff sergeant next door who had offered me safe haven. Perhaps he really didn’t know this seemingly spiritual individual lying so quietly on his bunk. Perchance this wronged man had asked in his prayer for God to forgive the perpetrators for their odious deed.

Shortly thereafter, the remainder of the platoon returned from the maneuvers along the Red River and entered the building. I gave up on any thoughts for a quiet night of sleep.

The next sonance was the shrill bugle call Reveille. Everyone got dressed and proceeded to gather for the morning call to formation for the company commander’s report.

When the moment arrived for my platoon’s report, the captain called on the mountainous platoon staff sergeant. Double-timing, the sergeant strode forward, faced the captain and presented the customary salute which was acknowledged by the commanding officer. At this point the platoon leader did not give the customary, "Sir, all present or accounted for!" Instead he shifted his large frame to face the men of the heavy weapon company. I was absolutely dumbfounded at the words the platoon sergeant voiced:

"Last night when I returned from maneuvers and discovered what had happened to my personal property, I got down on my knees at bunkside and prayed to God about those soldiers who have already departed this camp and are to be replacements for infantry units fighting German soldiers."

With tears rampantly overflowing the sides of his face, he continued,

"I prayed, with all my heart, to God that a German U-Boat (submarine) would intercept the troop ship they will be travelling on and – send it to the bottom of the ocean!"

I could hardly believe the words the huge man had just uttered. He had informed us about his prayer to God, beseeching divine help, to sink an entire troop ship with possibly thousands of other United States soldiers and sailors aboard. The purpose of the prayer was to allow the platoon sergeant the satisfaction of knowing those few men aboard, who had earlier vented their anger against him, would lose their lives and the sergeant would thereby have the gratifying satisfaction of a crowing personal revenge.

The infantry company was quickly dismissed from the formation noticeably absent of any comments from the company commander.

In the following days of infantry training I became more familiar with the platoon sergeant. I witnessed him use his size to intimidate others and began to have a better understanding why he wasn’t particularly well-liked by the men in the platoon. The very fact he had the large photograph of himself taken in a San Antonio boxing ring mounted to the barrack’s wall was an indication of premeditated intimidation.

I have to confess the staff sergeant was knowledgeable about platoon weaponry. I recall the platoon leader teaching us how to field-strip the water-cooled .30-caliber machine gun. With eyes blindfolded he could field strip the weapon and put it back together in record time.