I joined the Army in forty four,and was shipped to Texas in the medical corps.
I was shipped to Europe with first aid knowledge..Learned more about wounds than two yrs in college.
When I arrived in France..it was easy to see..This was a picnic...no siree.
All medics are trained like the infantry..So they gave me a gun and said that's what you'll be.
They told me I was selected for the Big Red One. From what I had heard this wouldn't be fun.
In this poem I'll tell you about a few things we went through. Each day was a struggle and the nights were too.
These happenings will not necessarily be in order. I can't remember exactly when we crossed the border.
If you stayed with this to the end...bless you. Dad was in the hospital, when he came home from the war. He was at Ft. Sheridan. I went to see him...I was just a little girl...my eyes were wide open as I looked at soldiers wounded in the war. Dad came back home and never talked about this to me...until I asked him. Love you Dad...I'm proud of you.