Chapter 5
Johnny in Italy
The mood under the canvas tent in the field kitchen was upbeat compared to many previous meals. There was no smell of smoke or gunfire in the air. Instead, this morning, in Rome, the comforting musty scent of the canvas tent still lingered as they ate breakfast from tin trays. The men had come and gone but the same field kitchen equipment was still functional after heavy use, like themselves. The tents were a luxury shelter for the men of the 34th Infantry for eating and sleeping. In between fire fights they had been accustomed to eating canned meals outdoors out of a fox hole, the same one they slept in. The hot meals in a tent only came when the fighting was cleared out and there was a long enough pause to set it back up. The tents block the wind, rain and cold. The ability to sleep on a cot for a few nights felt like a hotel stay to some of the previous accommodations across northern Africa and southern Italy. The noose around Hitler and the Nazis was tightening, at least that is what they were being told by superior officers. The British Broadcasting Company (BBC) and Radio Free America concurred in their broadcasts, the Nazis and the Japs were retreating. The Stars and Stripes military newspaper did its best not to show the thousands of dead Americans dying monthly in its pages. The dead Japs and Nazis bodies were fair game for military photographers. Dozens of towns and villages with names Johnny had never heard of had all been reduced to rubble from tank and artillery fire as the Germans and Italians retreated north. The 34th Infantry made it all the way to Rome, suffering a dozen deaths and over a hundred men wounded so far, some suffering life altering injuries. Johnny Meade felt lucky he was still alive, and the respite in Rome was greatly appreciated by the entire 34th Infantry.
Their quarters were a Catholic seminary school on the outskirts of Rome on the east side of the Tiber River. It had been converted by the Americans to a temporary headquarters and processing center for captured Nazis. The high brick wall with broken plaster hunks fallen from the exterior surrounded the compound and ran the length of the road. There were two checkpoints established at each of the only two entry points to the property on the north and south sides. The interior buildings within the compound were spread out over the large property with the main building in the center and four smaller structures in each corner. The buildings themselves looked Italian in their design and earth tone colors but otherwise indistinguishable from any of the other architecture throughout Rome.
On the compound itself, the daily update came through Army message traffic. It was paraphrased and read out loud by various staff from the headquarters to the mustered infantry troops in the courtyard each morning. The men learned yesterday the Russians on the eastern front had pushed the Nazis out of Belgrade and all the way back to Budapest. The Allied troops fighting in the west had crossed the Roer River into Germany. This created an outburst from the men in ranks, although the majority of the men could not point to those cities on a map. It didn’t matter; any news of the Germans losing was to be celebrated. There were heavy naval battles still going on in the Philippines, and the Japs were now on the defense. They were dug in deep in the jungle and on multiple islands throughout the Pacific. Somewhere out there was Johnny’s brother Bill. He hoped he was still alive.
The 34th Infantry was a division of the US 5th Army commanded by Lieutenant General Mark W. Clark. Johnny was assigned to a motor pool as a bulldozer operator. His knowledge of farm equipment and how to drive a tractor was enough for him to be considered for training as a heavy equipment operator. Johnny completed the Army’s General Aptitude Test and was offered training as a tank operator or heavy equipment operator. He felt he had a better chance of living on a bulldozer than a tank in combat. After bootcamp in Great Lakes, Illinois, he was trained in one week on almost every aspect of the US Army’s D7 bulldozer. It was Caterpillar’s six-ton bulldozer with a crane painted olive green and renamed the D7. The life of the D7 operator on the battlefield was never safe. The hulking, slow-moving, unarmed, metal beasts were easy targets for German Panzer tanks and fighter jets of the Luftwaffe. Because there was no turret or machine gun emplacement on the D7, it remained in the rear of the division while others fought on the front lines.
The front lines on the Allies’ side of the war became a compilation of Americans, British, French, Canadians, liberated North Africans, Greeks, Poles, Czechs, Brazilians, New Zealanders, and with Italian partisans as the campaign forged on. The US Army 5th took heavy casualties during the invasion of Italy at Salerno, Anzio, and Cassino. The Allied naval bombardments of the German fortifications on the cliffs above were relentless. The beach landing on Anzio was met with little resistance initially. Landing ships successfully transported troops, trucks, tanks, and supplies in the initial waves coming ashore. This early success was soon followed by the Germans being alerted to their presence on the coast and racing for defensive positions and fortifications on the high ground. The initial success of the landing was soon thwarted by bad weather and enemy gunfire. The following bouts of rain, snow, mud, and cold bogged down the forward momentum. The Nazis secured the high ground, and the bloody battles ensued. It went on for months with the assistance of Allied air raids, supply drops, and naval bombardments.
The Allies eventually managed to fight their way through the Gustav Line just south of Rome in May of the previous year. There were thousands of military and civilian casualties along the way. The towns were decimated, and survivors struggled to find food and water. As the 34th fought on, they moved towards the east and then northward towards Rome. The retreating Germans had pillaged everything and left behind only bombed-out brick and mortar buildings in every direction. The bombings and artillery rounds collapsed entire towns into rubble piled high enough to make interior city roads impassable. There was no running water or electricity in any of the towns by the time the 34th Infantry entered them. The Italians had long proven the weakest link in the Axis. Mussolini was arrested in 1943 and the majority of the defeated Italian army remained in northern fighting and retreating further north into the Alps.
Mussolini was neither a strategic genius nor an adequate partner in the Axis. The Italian navy was entirely captured, sunk, or disabled by the end of 1943. The Roma, Italy’s largest battleship ever produced, was sunk by the Germans in an air assault the day after Italy signed the armistice in September instead of risking having it turned over to the Allies and used against them. After the Germans and Italians were ousted from Sicily, the Italian government began negotiating with the Allies on terms of surrender. The armistice of Cassibile was signed in September of 1943, and Mussolini was done. Italian King Victor Emmanuel III, who miraculously stayed in power throughout the entire war, called for Mussolini’s arrest. He was eventually hidden from the public in a remote hotel in the Gras Sasso d’Italia mountain range. Hitler assigned Nazi commandoes to find him and extricate him. The Nazi commandoes found the hotel and attacked it with a daring but successful high-altitude paratrooper raid. Mussolini was then extricated and flown to Germany to meet Hitler. At least that is what the story was from the Army staff officer reading the message traffic. There was a portrait sized photograph of the two of them together at Hitler’s Wolf’s Lair, his secret German hideaway, passed around. There was no date on the photograph but it motivated every Allied troop to kill them both. Unfortunately, the son of a bitch got away.
The Italians may have surrendered, but the Nazis and Japs surely had not. Both were fighting to the last man. The Nazis were now consistently losing men, material, and ground to the Russians since Stalingrad in 1943. The war had finally, measurably, turned in the Allies’ favor. Hitler’s once tactical prowess was now failing his exhausted and brutalized Nazi forces. In a single year, the Germans had retreated almost 2,000 miles across the previously conquered Eastern European territory during Operation Barbarossa launched in the summer of 1941. This Russian offensive came at great expense to both sides, as the officer stated the Russians themselves had reportedly already lost millions of citizens to the Nazi war machine.
In Rome, the 34th Infantry was then divided between the infantry itself and the construction battalion. Johnny was assigned to the latter. Johnny drove the D7 bulldozer and the five-ton truck and trailer combination that pulled the tractor from location to location, almost always in the worst of road conditions. Johnny’s duty was to clear a path for other forward-moving vehicles and troops when the fighting stopped. This leapfrogging between heavy equipment operators, the gunfighters in the 34th Infantry, and the M4 Sherman tank crews became almost rhythmic as the battles unfolded across North Africa and Italy.
Air support from America’s B51 Mustang fighters had been unpredictable at best. In the battles the tank crews led the way lobbing heavy shells at anything standing. The infantry followed with trucks carrying men and pulling howitzers, officers in jeeps and behind them, the D7s pushed away the rubble. The bulldozer was also ideal for towing or pulling out other vehicles stuck in mud and snow. The remaining debris of battles— dead Nazis, burned out vehicles, makeshift barricades, and collapsed buildings— the D7s labored to push aside one defeated town at a time.
Both Rome and Vatican City were bombed by the Allies and Axis alike, but the majority of the city was left unscathed and usable for both Roman citizens and Allied troops. Rome became the temporary headquarters of the US 5th Army until the entire country was to be liberated. There were multiple American jeeps and troop transports belching out clouds of black diesel smoke as they disappeared into the labyrinth of identical-looking streets of Rome. Johnny was one of a handful of heavy equipment operators and construction foremen from the 34th selected to stay behind and be temporarily reassigned to the tasks of clearing streets, runways, and bridges around the city of Rome. The infantry meanwhile moved on north, chasing the retreating Nazis behind the mechanized division. Johnny and three other heavy equipment operators were now temporarily assigned to the 73rd Engineering Battalion. That was fine with Johnny.
The compound, or seminary as it appeared to be prior to the war, was probably self-sufficient. It was difficult to tell with dozens of Army tents now covering the grounds. There was running water, showers, electricity, toilets, and even barracks for the officers. The enlisted men, however, slept in the tents set up on the south side of the property and relieved themselves into large metal pots inside the wooden latrine. Unlucky privates would be responsible for pulling out the ghastly pots of excrement daily and burn off the contents, sending the nauseating stench of burning shit across the entire compound for an hour every day. The alternative was shitting where they ate. The perimeter had been established with armed guards and a .50 caliber machine gun nest at the entrances. The compound served both as a mobile field medical unit and chow hall until. The compound served as an overflow for wounded soldiers arriving and departing at all hours of the day. The officers’ quarters were in an abandoned school the Nazis had used during their occupation. For the enlisted men, there were mobile showers set up as men stood naked under open running water with bars of soap washing weeks of filth from their flesh. The filthy uniforms were washed in 55-gallon drums and hung out to dry on lines of parachute cord strung up between two trucks or wrung out and worn wet as the men relaxed in the sun for a couple of days while the division regrouped for the next operation.
Johnny’s rifle hung on two brackets welded to the side of the bulldozer for quick retrieval. There was always fear of Nazis snipers hiding in the buildings and behind piles of rubble. By the time the bulldozers were called in, the Nazis were almost always long gone. The Italian partisans who put up resistance against the Nazis were now out in the streets trying to rebuild their country before the war had even concluded. The Nazis would not be coming back. The majority of Italians turned against Mussolini, and several Italian partisans joined the Allies headed north to liberate all of Italy and still further on towards Berlin. When the remainder of the 34th Infantry went north to clean up what was left of the Nazis, Johnny and the other construction foremen remained behind knowing their chances of making it back home alive after the war skyrocketed.
Johnny, like everyone, believed a few more months of fighting and it would all be over for the Nazis. “I think we lucked out,” Johnny said to his fellow soldiers at a table in the field kitchen. “I think this duty is going to be gravy until it’s over.”
“I do too,” Nico Marzetti, the sergeant in charge, another bulldozer operator and older guy, maybe forty years of age, replied with a Brooklyn accent. He was the oldest of the four bulldozer drivers left behind. “You can tell by every town we’ve been through to get to here. There was nothing left of any of them. Rome? You almost can’t tell the Nazis were even here. How many dead Nazis have you counted so far, Blowzer?”
“Myself, hundreds. None here though,” Bobby Blowzer, another bulldozer driver of the four, replied. He was a redhead with light skin from Ohio around Johnny’s age. He usually kept to himself and didn’t speak much unless spoken to. He had been keeping a tally of dead Nazis as the formation fought from town to town.
“I thought we were done when those kraut bastards had us pinned down in Salerno and Cassino. I was stuck behind that burning Panzer,” Marzetti continued.
“I remember counting them. They were all dead,” Blowzer recalled.
“I thought it was going to blow up. I was going to run for it, but I didn’t know what direction to go. Then I heard the planes. I was so happy I about pissed my pants,” Johnny recounted the feeling of hearing the distinct hum of the Mustangs flying overhead, attacking at the perfect moment.
“Me too,” Marzetti agreed. They all had seen much more graphic scenarios than a guy piss or shit themselves in battle. The dead and wounded had often emptied their bladders and bowels as the last actor their lives. The stench and the flies surrounding the corpses in the summer months was nauseating. “But you won’t need to worry about that anymore. Hitler is doomed. Holding Rome was their last hope. Now they are surrounded. Mussolini is a puppet in his own country if he is even in Italy. There are more Italians on our side now than theirs.”
Blowzer shook his head and thought. “Yeah, what great fighters, eh? Are you kidding me? He’s not even in the country. He’s back in Berlin hiding with the other worthless fuckers. They thought they were big shit too.”
“Yeah, their navy was even worse than their army,” Johnny added.
“What navy?” asked Blowzer sarcastically. “I didn’t see any Italian navy.”
Marzetti shook his head in disagreement. “Yeah, that may be true. But Nazis, the U-boats are no joke, Mac. Those bastards in their underwater beer cans are lethal.”
“It is like their airplanes, they were great too in the beginning. Where is the Luftwaffe now? If the Italians were any good, they wouldn’t have needed the Nazis south of Rome in the first place. When is the last time anyone even killed an Italian?” Marzetti asked the group.
Johnny chomped on a piece of toasted bread. He tried to remember the last time he had toast. It had been too long. He chewed and tried to think.
“Sicily,” Private Kryliter spoke up with a mouthful of apple sounding like a hillbilly.
“There is something to be said for that. The Roman Empire is not going to rise again. It is just a matter of time now,” replied Marzetti.
“You know about the Roman Empire?” Kryliter asked inquisitively. Perry Kryliter was the fourth bulldozer driver in their group and also around Johnny’s age. He was the dumbest of the four. He was from Alabama and a devout Christian. He believed he was fighting a holy war from the seat of his bulldozer. He believed Jesus was watching over him and protecting those around him. He was also caught masturbating in a foxhole months ago and had been the butt of many jokes since. He was eager to spread the word but most thad stopped listening to Kryliter long before Sicily.
“I know that I am here in Rome now and Caesar is not, Kryliter. I know we are not too far from where he was killed. I also know our boys are about to cross the Rubicon headed in the opposite direction Caesar crossed it. If we get a chance we are going to go check out the Vatican and the Colosseum. It is not too far from here.” Marzetti replied confidently as he smiled at Kryliter. “I was a high school history teacher before the war.”
“Yeah, I failed that class.” Blowzer admitted.
“Me too,” added Kryliter.
Johnny rolled his eyes, “Imagine that.”
“I never thought I would be here in a million year,.” Kryliter stated between mouthfuls what was on everyone’s mind since the day they left home.
Blowzer belched loudly and replied “Yet, here we are.”
“No shit,” Marzetti said as he sipped his hot cup of coffee staring down at a warm piece of Spam, dried eggs, and dried potatoes on his metal food tray. “This is the best quarters we have had since we crossed the damn ocean. I can stay here until the war ends if you want my opinion.”
“I’ll second that,” Blowzer chimed in.
“No kidding. We will probably never see any of those guys again in the 34th,” Kryliter said what everyone on the temporary base was hoping. The only way they would see the 34th again would be on their return from victory or retreat in disaster.
“Why do you say that?” asked Johnny.
“The Nazis are not making it back. You don’t win wars by giving up ground. There will be nothing left of Germany by the time it is over. Allied bombing is going to increase. That is why they kept us behind. All of the landing strips and runways need to be cleared and maintained to keep supplies and troops moving forward. The roads from here to Naples and Genoa also have to be cleared before we can evacuate. I suspect they are possibly holding us back to do that,” replied Sergeant Marzetti.
“Makes sense. The Russians are gaining a lot of ground in the east too,” Johnny mentioned as he looked around for another copy of Stars and Stripes that was often left around on the tables under the tents in the field kitchen. There were none.
“I think we might be digging graves with the dozers and back hoes too,” Blowzer said as he took a swig of the powdered milk and winced from the flat taste.
“That is a good point, Blowzer. Where are all the bodies going to be buried?” asked Kryliter to no one in particular, but no one answered.
“Even if we kill Hitler and the Nazis surrender tomorrow, I doubt we are going home. I bet they load half of everyone in Europe back on to troop carriers in Naples and sail on through the Suez Canal and across the Indian Ocean to fight the Japs in the Pacific,” stated Marzetti after he took a healthy sip of his coffee.
“The Army will use what is left of us in the Pacific to help finish off the Japs,” Blowzer said confidently. The men all knew it was a grim possibility.
“That would be just awful. After a couple of years of this and then to be thrown into the jungle? I would rather just die here,” Kryliter looked up toward the heavens but only saw the underside of the tent.
Kryliter turned and noticed a table of dark skinned foreigners eating their breakfast a few tables over. He studied their faces as they were neither negroes nor Mexicans. “Where in the hell are the negroes from sitting over there at that table? They aren’t from America.”
“I heard ‘ em talking in the chow line. They’re speaking Spanish. I thought Spain wasn’t in the war though,” Johnny said as he looked at the other soldiers.
“They’re not. It is Portuguese,” replied Sergeant Marzetti.
Kryliter cocked his head and stared at them. “Portuguese are that dark?” asked Blowzer as he stared at them too.
“They’re from Brazil. The slave trade brought slaves from Africa to South America too, not just the USA,” Sergeant Marzetti’s response sounded like a history teacher. The others assumed they had forgotten that test question in history class.
“You ever wonder why they got left behind like us?” Blowzer wondered out loud.
“Who, those guys?” Johnny looked over at the table. They were more brown than black. “They’re killing nazis. That is all that matters.”
“I’ll second that,” Kryliter added then turned back to his breakfast.
“We better get going. We need to muster in about ten minutes,” Marzetti said as he looked down at his watch. He gave the crown several winds, stuffed the last of the warm Spam on his metal food tray into his mouth and washed it down with his coffee.
The morning musters in the last few days were straightforward with briefings about the war, the weather, and instructions on which area of the city would be cleaned up for the day. The majority of the surrounding major roads had already been opened enough for vehicle passage in the first week. The infinite number of streets through Rome were a labyrinth of identical unreadable signs and buildings. Vatican City, within the city of Rome, would surely be cleared next.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” an Army captain addressed the roughly twenty men in ranks mustered standing at attention outside their quarters. “Today we will be more of the same. It has been a lot easier to get in and around Rome in the last week since we have been working at it. We should be finished up with our work on this side of the river and will focus around the Vatican for the next few days. Next week we will be dividing you guys up into two groups. One will move over the Tiber River and start in on the west side of Rome while the others will head south of the city to a damaged airstrip tomorrow or the next day.” The captain paused and looked through a handful of papers he was holding. “I also wanted to pass along some additional news. President Roosevelt, like it or not, has been sworn in to an unprecedented fourth term as our president and commander in chief. Also, in the Pacific theater, American bombers have successfully struck at Tokyo again. Significant damage was done to infrastructure targets and an undetermined amount of casualties were reported. There is still heavy fighting on land and at sea in the Philippines, Indo-China, and various islands of Southeast Asia. In our war here in Europe, the First and Third Armies have now linked up. This means the fighting in France and Belgium is probably done. The Russians have also just entered Warsaw, Poland. We have Hitler on his heels, boys. The noose is getting tighter,” he paused as the guys in formation gave out a shout to the good news. “Alright, report to your duty stations. For those driving the bulldozers, follow the jeep with the bright red flag. The driver will be the pilot vehicle. Let’s get at it, gentlemen. Dismissed.”
The uplifting news was needed. The war had been going on for what seemed like eternity. The 34th had faced the inclement weather and unforgiving terrain. Before that was the suppressive Mediterranean heat and the flying insects of North Africa the previous summer. In the winter, the uniforms and coats kept the putrid stink of body odor and shit stains in the shorts contained. In the summer, the rivers, streams, and lakes were used to bathe in and wash filthy uniforms with a bar of soap. Latrines were a rarity, and pissing and shitting in the woods, mountains, or bombed-out buildings went on for months. The constant shelling, bombing raids, and firefights kept their adrenaline flowing and sleep quality poor. The constant death and maimed bodies by the thousands hardened everyone marching past in formation. It could never be forgotten. Life itself was incredibly fragile and fleeting. The world would never be the same, and the war was not even over yet. It seemed impossible the Axis could claw its way back to having the upper hand in the war, but they did.
Johnny walked across the compound with others in his group out the front entrance to the area that was the motor vehicle pool. He jumped into his two-and-a-half-ton truck that was pulling his bulldozer. He fired up the truck, and all systems were go. The mechanics in the motor pool had already filled the D7 and the truck with fuel for the day. The jeep with the red flag with the captain from morning muster in the passenger side arrived at the motor pool area. One by one, each of the four trucks, two carrying back hoes and two carrying bulldozers, followed the jeep out of the motor pool area towards their destination.
There were stunning mountains and forest vistas across Italy. The architecture in Rome, however, was beyond Johnny’s own imagination. The talent level, the ingenuity, and intricacy of everything the Italians touched seemed artistic and impressive. After a matter a few minutes of driving, Johnny had no idea how to get back to the makeshift base they departed from again. The Italians in the street were still happy and smiling as their small American convoy wound through the city. When the convoy slowed or briefly stopped, kids would approach the cab of the truck and yell “Americano” or “USA” and wave. They slowed down in front of the massive Vittorio Emanuele II monument. Johnny was stunned at the size and beauty of the building. The massive white marble structure could have been the Vatican for all Johnny knew. As they made their way over the Vittorio Emanuele II bridge, Johnny could see St. Peter’s Basilica in the distance as they passed. They continued along a road stretching around the city, then crossed over the Tiber River on an arched bridge adorned with giant marble statues. They turned left after crossing the bridge and on to a larger road for a few minutes, then the vehicles slowed to a stop. The captain climbed out of the pilot jeep and signaled to the driver’s that he wanted them to exit their trucks to discuss something. Johnny left his truck running and gathered with the others.
“Get used to your surroundings. Each of you will be given a map of our area of responsibility. If you look behind me, what you will see is the back side of the Vatican. On this side of the Tiber, for our intents and purposes, we will call Vatican City. It doesn’t start until a few blocks up, but this will help you locate yourself on your maps. If you remember the gigantic monument with stairs and statues we passed a few minutes ago, that is the Emmanuel Vittorio II Monument. Let’s say he was the George Washington of Italy to keep it simple.” The guys laughed. It was a good analogy.
“Is that the same as the Pope?” Kryliter asked.
“No. That is a good question though. The Pope is Pius XII. That is twelve in Roman numerals. Not sure you remember Roman numerals from high school, but you will see them everywhere in Rome. Familiarize yourself with the key on the map that translates that into current years. Many of the streets have these numbers on them. If you look on the corners of the buildings, the names of the streets are usually plated to the exterior walls. Do not go into the Vatican. I repeat, do not go into the Vatican. The guards will not let you in there anyways right now. Since you will not be on the grounds, you will never see the Pope. You will also not see the current king, Emmanuel the III. He became king when his father was assassinated by some Italian zealot. I am not really sure how it all works but the Italian king is still in power during this entire war, but Mussolini is now the enemy. That doesn’t pertain to us. Mussolini is still a shitbag and hiding with the Nazis,” the captain explained.
“Should we carry our guns?” Blowzer asked.
“We are at war, gentlemen. You will always have your weapon in your vehicle. But the Nazis are gone. You will not encounter any, but if you happen to see a Nazi that has managed to hide out for weeks, shoot them before they shoot you. There have been no reports of any Nazis or snipers, only some bodies that have been found.” replied the captain. In another environment, Blowzer’s question may have sounded dumber, but the current atmosphere was the most relaxed any of the men had known since they crossed the Atlantic. The captain continued, “If you look at your maps, we are situated currently within the red circle. This is going to be our rendezvous point at 1700. We are going to be working directly towards St. Peter’s Square, then veer off to the left and work your way back to the right down that road. The location is marked on the map. I can’t even pronounce it, so look at where it is marked on your maps. The word via in Italian means ‘road,’ and the signs are usually on the corner of the buildings, but often not. Blowzer and Marzetti, you guys can unload and start on this apparent junk yard just down the road here on your maps. Once you get unloaded, leave the trucks here. There is nowhere to turn it around further down the road. Meade and Kryliter, you two wait here. You guys can unload too. You will be going on the north side. I will be back in a jiffy. I want to get these guys going. Just hang out here, and I will be back,” the captain barked out and then returned to his flagged jeep in front of the trucks. Johnny was third in the convoy, and Kryliter was behind him. They climbed up onto their flatbed trailers and began loosening the chains to the bulldozers and backing them off their ramps. The four dozers were unloaded, and both Marzetti and Blowzer followed slowly behind the captain’s jeep further down the road.
No sooner than the captain was out of sight, another sergeant driving a jeep with a bird flagged on it approached where they were parked. The flag meant it was a full-bird colonel being escorted. Johnny couldn’t tell who it was. There were also two other jeeps with a couple of guys in civilian business suits in each of them being driven by Army drivers. Johnny and his comrade stood like deer in headlights as the jeeps approached, slowed, and came to a stop. Both stood up straight at attention. The sergeant driving stopped, and the colonel got out of the passenger side. He looked at Johnny and Kryliter. “Are you guys in charge of these dozers?”
“Yes, we are waiting for our captain to return, sir. He just left with the other half of our group,” replied Johnny nervously.
“That is fine. Change of plans. You guys are coming with us. Not sure who your captain is. He doesn’t outrank me. We need a wall breached right now, and you two guys have the equipment we are looking for. Get the bulldozers back on these flatbeds on the double and follow us in a convoy fashion. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Johnny answered and saluted him.
“Who is going to tell our captain….” Kryliter was interrupted by the colonel.
“Don’t worry about him. Let’s get moving on the double,” he ordered and sat back down in the passenger side of the jeep and watched his orders carried out.
Johnny and Kryliter looked at each other, got the bulldozers back onto their flat beds, chained them back down, and were ready to go as fast as they could. They started up their trucks, got them turned around and began following the three jeeps. There was no questioning the highest-ranking person they had ever spoken to in the military. He could requisition whatever he wanted. Two other jeeps and a personnel carrier fell in line as the convoy continued north of St. Peter’s Square. It was still relatively early in the morning. Johnny wasn’t sure what was going on, but he was also not bothered by the quick change of plans. He had gotten used to it over the last couple of years. He wasn’t dead or wounded, and that was the main objective for everyone in the war. Until it was over, it was kill or be killed. It didn’t matter when, where, or how. Getting peeled off to another assignment because they were heavy equipment operators was not surprising. It could have been a different story if the colonel told him to grab his rifle and fall in ranks. The bulldozers were rolling on metal tracks, giving them traction similar to a tank. Every battlefield commander in the war wanted one.
The demeanor of the colonel and the urgency of his commandeering the equipment on the spot meant there was something potentially significant. Johnny was excited. Doing work for a high-ranking officer meant potential medals or ribbons, maybe too, depending on what the task was. They would not send a full-bird colonel out to get a bulldozer. Johnny assumed they would be pulling vehicles or clearing a road further along.
The small convoy wound through the streets of Rome until they came upon a highway that led them to the edge of town. Johnny estimated they had been driving approximately twenty minutes. Just as he expected they were going to be leaving Rome, the front jeep slowed and turned to the right into a neighborhood that looked similar to the rest of the city. They rolled up on a few US soldiers walking in the same direction they were driving. The convoy slowed and stopped in front of a large brick-walled building with barbed wire on top of it. It was an ancient Roman wall that was half as thick as a jeep at the base and all of twenty feet tall. There was an arched entrance with large iron and wood doors that opened inward. Johnny had never seen walls so high except in books with tales of fortresses with castle walls. The sergeant that was driving the colonel climbed up the side of his truck. “What is your name, soldier?”
“Meade, Sarge.”
“Alright, Meade, what you and the other guy are going to do is bust open the doors on this gate with those bulldozers. It is an iron and wooden gate and we think it might also be booby-trapped with a mine. We still need to get in there. Once the compound is breached, keep that bucket up high enough to defend yourself from any potential enemy fire.” Johnny was surprised to hear him mention gunfire in the command. Johnny was confused. “Yes, sir.”
“Now, pay attention so you do not get killed, Meade. Again, once you breach that door, you keep going straight only far enough that the other vehicles can get in behind you, twenty feet maybe. There may be return fire, and your dozer might be the only cover we have. If there is no fire, then pull it out of the way and fall back. If you do draw fire, jump down and take cover with your weapon behind the tractor until we can get inside. If there is a booby trap and something goes off, the bucket will deflect any anti-personnel mine fragmentation away from you. If anything happens to you or the bulldozer, the other guy is coming in behind you to finish the job with his. We have a platoon standing by once you get through. They will file in behind your bulldozer until they can find other cover inside the compound. Is that understood?”
Johnny nodded his head. “Affirmative, Sarge.”
“Good answer. Now get this dozer off the trailer and bring it up over there near the entrance. I am going to tell your buddy the same.” The sergeant said as he jumped down and walked back to Kryliters’ rig idling behind him.
“Roger, sir,” replied Johnny. He had done this maneuver before in training and in battle before. The bucket would skim a few inches of dirt from the ground and trigger pressure plate mines that were designed to maim soldiers with fragmentation. The blasts were small in comparison to artillery or naval and air bombardments but large enough to take off a leg or kill the unsuspecting soldier who stepped on it. The concave shape of the heavy steel bulldozer bucket up front protected the driver when they detonated. The road would be cleared of mines or proven none existed in a matter of minutes. Johnny shut off the truck and climbed down. The detail the colonel left out was when the bucket was down, there was no hiding from gunfire.
He could see in his mirror that the colonel had already climbed up on Kryliter’s truck and was explaining the evolution. Johnny unchained the dozer from the trailer and released the heavy metal skids to the ground, allowing the D7 to roll off the back of the trailer. Johnny jumped up in the seat and fired up the tractor. He put the bulldozer in gear and headed toward the door. The jeeps that contained the colonel and the others were parked away from the door, and the occupants were now in discussion with each other. Johnny looked around and could see Americans on the roofs of the surrounding buildings. They were snipers. It made him uneasy and anxious. He was the only one without a weapon drawn.
Johnny pulled his dozer up to the front of the gate and paused. The massive wooden and iron door looked like something out of a fairy tale.
Johnny turned his head and saw the colonel now talking with the other officers and the men in the suits. Kryliter hopped down from his truck and began to unchain his dozer. Behind him, two personnel carriers rolled up between the group of officers and Kryliter’s flatbed. A dozen armed soldiers jumped out of the back of each and lined up along the gravel road. The personnel carriers took off, and a sergeant ordered the men in formation, then briefed them on the operation. After a few minutes, the same sergeant made eye contact with Johnny and nodded. He made a hand gesture to move forward with the dozer. Johnny nodded and revved up the D7. A belch of smoke from the diesel exhaust clouded the air behind him, and the bucket banged loudly against the doors. If there was anyone behind the gate, they now knew someone was trying to breach it. Johnny looked around, and snipers on the roof across the street had their weapons drawn and pointed at him. The tracks of the dozer dug into the earth, and the powerful machine inched forward. In a matter of seconds, the sound of a large tree snapping and large pieces of iron banging against stone filled the air as the door gave way. The D7 accelerated a few feet and kept pushing the remnants of the door forward away from the entrance.
There were no explosions nor gunshots fired. Johnny only saw several brick buildings in front of him. It looked more like a factory with arched entrances to storage areas. They resembled hangars or warehouses, he thought initially. He took no chances and did as he was ordered to do. He raised the bucket as high as it would go, shut the tractor off and then jumped down with his rifle and knelt behind the D7. The soldiers that had just arrived were now pouring into the entrance single file and all charged forward. None of them were shooting. The soldiers did not look for defensive positions nor dig in but instead kept moving forward. Johnny peeked around the track of his dozer and it appeared it was indeed a factory-type setting. It was suddenly eerily quiet. He could see the soldiers approach the first building and accessed an open side door.
It was a tense moment waiting for the platoon to search the first building before one of them emerged giving the all-good signal. The officers, the plainclothes guys, and the colonel walked past Johnny still crouched behind his dozer and said nothing. They didn’t seem worried about enemy gunfire and had serious looks on their faces as they walked past. Johnny watched as the group walked towards the first building. All the men entered the building while half of the platoon exited and remained outside in a relaxed formation. It appeared there was no one else in the area or they didn’t find who they were looking for. It was hard to tell what the Italians used the place for. Their beautiful old door, however, was now demolished. The setting looked industrial with pipes connecting the buildings to large fuel tanks. There was a large crane to the side that appeared to be in working condition. What Johnny didn’t expect to see was what came next.
Out of the brick building, a couple dozen men dressed in brown friar tunics were walked one by one and made to stand in formation in front of the building. Johnny was confused. He literally broke down the huge, old doors so a platoon could catch a few unarmed monks? There were a lot of strange things that happened already in the war that didn’t make sense, and this was another. Vatican City was neutral during the war. Johnny suspected it was potentially a rescue mission. The soldiers had just freed them from captors possibly. The men dressed in suits spoke to the men individually for a minute or two each and sorted them into two groups without the other men knowing what they were being sorted for. Johnny suspected they were checking for English skills and shaking them down for information.
After almost half an hour at gunpoint, the sorting had been completed. Six of the men were in one group and twenty-two in the other. The group of six was marched out of the compound following one of the Army officers from the jeep. As they approached the dozer headed out the demolished gate, one of the men began speaking German to another. The man in front did not respond and instead continued walking single file to one of the awaiting personnel carriers that returned and was now parked on the other side of the road. Once the last monk was loaded, the truck started up and drove off with one of the jeeps and two officers holding their rifles following behind.
Once the vehicle was out of sight, Johnny heard someone yell, “Fire!” The sound of automatic rifles filled the air, startling him. He ducked down behind the bulldozer and peered around one of the tracks to get a glimpse of what was going on. He was not expecting to see the only remaining bodies standing were not wearing the brown friar tunics. The remaining monks were all now lying motionless on the ground. Johnny could see the driver of the colonel’s car walking over towards him. He did not seem panicked but rather casual.
“Hey, the colonel wants your bulldozer up there. You are going to dig a pit, push those bodies into it, and then cover it up,” he asserted as he reached into his pocket, withdrew a cigarette, and lit it in no hurried fashion.
“We are capturing and killing monks now, Sarge?”
“Those aren’t monks. They are Nazis,” the sergeant inhaled a puff of smoke and looked curiously at the bulldozer.
“What?” Johnny understood he was not kidding.
“Those guys? Yeah, it is a rat line. The guys in suits are with the OSS. Office of Special Services; the intelligence fellas. They are on our side. They are here in Rome. They got wind this place was being used to hide them until they shipped out.”
Johnny was confused, “Who hides as monks?”
“No one, unless you’re the Vatican. Yeah, it is pretty smart actually. The guys from the truck are not Americans either. The truck is ours, but those guys are the Swiss Guards, Vatican military. We transfer custody of the ones we want to keep to them after we question them.”
“First I have ever heard of that,” admitted Johnny.
“That is one way of saying it. Our guys learned it from the Nazis. They caught a few escaping in the friar outfits and a few confessed about the rat lines. They are only going to the Vatican because the war was lost. They feared for their lives for good reason. The church is creating fake temporary identity cards allowing the Nazis to travel without passports. They are children of the Holy See.”
“What in the hell did you just say? I am from Iowa, slow, not stupid. How can they do that?” Johnny couldn’t wrap his mind around what the sergeant just said.
The sergeant laughed and took a drag off his smoke. “There have been millions killed without death certificates. No one can verify who is dead or not right now. The parishes kept records of members and marriage records. These documents now suffice to get Vatican passports issued under the name of someone who is probably dead. Presto, a new surviving member of the clergy is created and on to their next mission. Then they get on ships headed to South America.” The sergeant spoke confidently as he puffed on his smoke, watching the men loading into the two-and-a-half-ton truck.