Carmine Matarozzo on left and Richard Garcia on right side

On the cold morning of November 25, 1958, I boarded the troop ship General A.M. Patch, at the Brooklyn Naval Shipyards.  It was loading with troops and equipment heading for assignment in Europe.  Some of us would go to Germany, others to Italy, France and other European counties.
 
I had just arrived in New Jersey from Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, Texas where I had taken my basic medical training on how to care for combat related injuries.
 
I came to Texas on board a train that departed from my home town of Oakland, California where I had been home on leave after my basic training at Fort Ord, California. 
 
We pulled away from the docks or the Naval Shipyard at 7 AM and the ship moved sluggishly as she maneuvered through the cold winter waters.  Soldiers and crew lined the rails as we steamed down the Hudson river and out of the New York harbor.  
 
As it made it's way past the grand old lady and headed out to sea I could not help but wonder what it was going to be like for me to  be away from home, family and country for the first time.
 
About one hour later we saw the Queen Mary in the distance as she was coming out of the harbor and before our eyes she when pass us as if we were standing still.  What a beautiful and majestic ship she was.
 
Everyone seemed to be a bit depressed and excited also but we had been ready for the day for several months.  We did not all know our final destination other then the country we would be going but Germany was the ships final destination but my final destination in Germany was still a mystery.
 
Soon the Patch was out in the Atlantic ocean and she began rolling and pitching.  By midnight many of the troops had become seasick.  The Atlantic, true to her form was bleak, relentlessly rough and cold.
 
We had been informed that in order to keep from getting seasick we should make all attempts to be at every meal, eat and drink everything.  Many of the troopers would rather gamble and miss there meals and they paid for it, spending a good amount of time hugging the commode.
 
On Thanksgiving Day we were treated to a feast of turkey, sweet potatoes, dressing, cranberries, the works in celebration of Thanksgiving.  My first major holiday away from home, the first of many.
 
The monotony of waiting was broken by several training classes that were given us about venereal disease, how to act in a foreign country and most importantly, not to fight over the women of Europe.  The statistics we were told was that there was seven women to every American soldier.  I could not wait to get to Germany and get my hands on my seven women. 
 
Most of the time was filled with kitchen work, swabbing the deck and anything else that they had for us to do.  Mostly we sat around, in our cramped bunks, writing endless letter home to family and girl friends and talking with other soldiers.  Sometimes we spent time on deck, when the weather permitted.
 
The winter weather was not kind and the waves came crashing onto the deck and being in the hole became more desirable for us then getting freezing wet. 
 
After a total of eight wet, cold, stormy and miserable days we could see the White Cliffs of Dover.  It was a relief to be in calmer waters again. 
 
We finally anchored in Bremerhaven, Germany.  It was another Naval  Shipyard but this time we were heading for our new home,  where ever that was going to be.
 
The thousands of soldier disembarked the old tub and were assembled in a large warehouse.  Names were called and people ushered here and over there.  Finally my name was called and I was assigned to a railroad car that was on a spur near the docks.  I was assigned a seat and  told to be there whenever the sergeant came alone to make a check of personal.  I  would be told when to get off the train and to have everything ready to jump when told to.  I kept my dufflebag handy. 
 
I do not remember what time the train's engine was hook up to the passender car but it must have been during the night.  I cannot remember any of the sites alone the way, but very early the next morning, I, along with several others where hurded off the train in the town which would be our home for the  better part of the next two years, Fulda, Germany.
 
With one other man from the ship, John "Dufflebags" Gause we were both assigned to the 501st Armored Medical Company and for both of us it would be home for two long years.
 
These are but a few of the fond memories I have of those day, from July 1, 1958 until May 19, 1961 and these memories cannot be diminish or take away from me.  As I write about those memories and those times I am trying to preserved these events for the future and for my family in their future.  I want them to know that I, Richard Garcia, served with honor, pride and I did my best to make my family and my country proud of me.
 
Of my time in Germany I can honestly say that I left a hell of a lot behind there.  Friends, I would never see again but would always remember, wonderful times and a terrible ordeal, but most of all I remember that I can there as a boy and left as a man.
 
I miss my friends, Richard Elias from Utica, New York, Charles R. Hawkins from Mansfield, Texas, Marvin Rash who's home was always Fulda, until his death it was alway Fulda.  Carlton Tatum from North Carolina whos only mission in his military career was to take care of his fellow soldier and good friend, Dave Landon, also from North Carolina.  There was Kelly Arena, Texas, John Thornberry, Illinois, Kenneth Stutzman, Illinois, Augustus Cooley, home state, unknown.   Billie Magee, from Mississippi, who died to early.  There were others with names lost in time, but there was only one, that I will never forget, Joseph Earl Delaney, Charleston, South Carolina.  
 
Fifty years later, I was lucky enough to reacquaint myself with several of these men and we got together to talk stories and Remember When.
 
I had wanted a life that was wider and deeper than my own Pacific shores could offer.  To make my way in a big world, to see more, to learn more and to be more.  It wasn't just a dream, it was a reality and I lived it.
 
Like so many other boys of that generation my military services was a special kind of schooling, studies beyond textbooks in the world of reality.
 
I matured from a young eighteen year old boy into a mature man with a unique knowledge of myself and of he people that I had met.  At times the price had been high and painful, it was the price of not being prepared for the world outside of my family and school friends.
 
I left behind a hell of lot in Germany, friends I would never see again but would always remember, wonderful times, a terrible ordeal but most of all I left behind my youth.  I love all of the boys.
 
Richard Garcia

Richard "Flea" Garcia

Richard "Flea" Garcia

Following is a story from Richard Garcia that was repeated several times while I was stationed with C Co. 14th ACR

FOREVER EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD

 BY RICHARD GARCIA

             This story that I am about to share with you it true, it is true because it actually happened.   This has been with me and a part of my memory since June I was a boy, the age of 19 and it happened while I was stationed in Germany on June 2, 1959 with the United States Army.

            I was in the army and stationed in a small beautiful corner of Germany near what at one time was called the Iron Curtain or the Barb Wire Curtain. 

            The night of June first I had been out with some of my company buddies out partying with a group and some young German girls.  We stayed out late and when I got back to our barracks I flopped into my bunk and fell fast asleep.

            The next morning I heard the noise, "Wake up, Flea, wake up."  It was Tuesday morning and much too early to be awake for roll call.   I could hear someone calling my nickname from deep within the corridors of my mind.  "Hell, man,” I said finally, "It’s to early let me sleep some more."   From over on the other side of the barracks another voice pipe in and threatened to come over and silence the voice that was tormenting me, I prayed that he would.

            The voice was coming from my friend and fellow ambulance driver, Richard James Elias.  He woke me to remind me of a conversation we had a few days before with our mutual friend James Ruiz.  Jimmy was a young eighteen year old boy and he had told us that he wanted to go home very badly.

            "Why did you wake me up to tell me that," I mumble still half asleep.  

            "Because, Richard said, "Jimmy is now going home; Jimmy shot and killed his self late last night.  Flea, understand, Jimmy killed his self."

            I could hear the doors banging across the street at Tony's bar.  A brewery deliveryman came though the doors wrestling with an empty beer barrel that had once contained the brew that we had help empty the night before.  At the curb his big diesel truck was idling in the quiet of the new day.  It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day and Jimmy was going to miss it.  Jimmy was going to be eighteen forever but he was going home.  

            I never knew the real reason for what happened that day or how Jimmy had been feeling because he never said to me that he was having any problems.  I will never know what happened to bring him to this point but I sometimes think that his loneliness was only part of the reason.  The real tragedy of James life was that he missed it all.

James Allen Ruiz is sitting at the table looking at the camera. A larger version of this photograph can been seen at

http://www.cats4x4.com/14thintro.htm  

A THANKGIVING STORY FROM MICHAEL Mc KAIG

Christmas Greeting from Richard Garcia 2008

I remember one year in Fulda we were each given a small Christmas tree to put in our barracks.  We have one empty stall that face the road and Tony's so we put it in that room.  Only thing was we were not given any decorations for the tree so we had to make due.  Some of us put or Christmas cards from home on the tree.  Other put small personal items on it.  We decide that we needed more but where to get them.   The mess hall had a tree that must have reach to the ceiling and lots of lights and ornaments and we figure they would not miss a few.  Each day as we when by the tree we would snatch something to put on our tree.  I cannot remember who it  was but he took an ornament,  or tried, and as he walk away the tree moved toward him almost falling over so he let go and the tree uprighted itself.  That was the end but in all we did have the most beautiful tree at the 501st, 14th Cav and Downs Barracks.
 
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF MY BROTHERS AND I THANK GOD THAT AFTER SO MANY YEARS I HAD THE CHANCE TO MEET YOU WITH YOU ALL.
 

The following story if from Jim Grooms. He sent it to us in response to a request from a school teacher in Fulda who wanted some stories about men who served in Fulda. He wanted to have them published in the Fulda Newspaper

I served in the 501st Armored Medical Co. from 1956 to 1959,  and as a 17 year old boy away from home for the first time I enjoyed every minute.    During the Christmas season we would take gifts to the towns children and our company would sponsor children for Christmas.  We  would pick up the kids by bus and bring them to the base and take them to Christmas dinner at the mess hall. Although it was not allowed the soldiers who were sponsoring children would go to town and buy the kids gifts out of their own pocket beside the gifts that the army would provide. It was a great way to make friends, and it helped me get through a lonely time. If this is printed in the Fulda paper I hope that someone who went to the base for Christmas during that period can remember it and respond to the artical. A lot of time has passed since those days. I am now 70 years old and have 2 children and 5 grand children   Jim Grooms 
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 Nov 2009

Hi again Jim,

                I enjoy your emails and I would like to come to one of the 14^th” reunions. You know we all have stories in the back of our minds that at times come forward. I have another one.....me and Tom Daily were on emergency standby for Frankfurt night, about 10a.m. we get a call to run this woman to Frankfurt who was going to have a baby. Our German nurse was named Erika. In less then 10 min. we were flying out the main gate on our way. Just on the other side of Gelnhausen Tom Daily spots a German cab about 50 feet off the side of the road...doors open, all of the lights on and nobody around. About a half mile down the road I see in my headlights a guy walking holding a towel on top of his head. It was the cab driver. As I was slowing down Erika says to me....mike you can not stop, he is a German citizen and cannot come into an American ambulance. I pulled up along side of this guy and asked him if he needed any help? His English was fair and told me he was hit on the back of his head with a beer bottle by two drunk Americans. Erika is yelling “Mike you can’t help him because he is a German. As much as I liked Erika I asked her “who’s driving this ambulance? I then told her to tell this guy to get in and I will take him to the next  town with a German Hospital, and I did. All of the way to Fulda Erika is in the back saying over and over again ...boy your going to get it when we get back.

                 Well the next day at roll call, Sgt Tripp says, Mc Kaig and Daily you have to see the old man !!!! We then knew that Erika was right. As we walked into his office we could see a German newspaper on his desk that had been sent down from Div. HQ. Standing next to the CO was Fred Horsterman a friend of mine who was in the 501st and who was born in Germany. Our XO was Capt. Rodgers, a real sweetheart if you can understand. Well he looked at us for a long moment and then stood up, slammed the German newspaper on the desk and says, “who was driving the emergency ambulance last night”....like he didnt know. I told him “I was sir”. Another long stare and then he says, you know Mc Kaig that your are not allowed to pick up and transport any German citizens on your run !!!! He then asked Fred Horsterman to read the German newspaper.  It was the cab drivers account of what went on that night, and how this American ambulance stopped and drove him to a German hospital ect, ect.. Now I’m thinking, that’s the end for my ass and also Tom’s. He sends Fred out of the office and took a long time looking out his window, he then turns and says, I don’t like what you guys did in so far as the army looks at it......but the Germans love you two and my hands are tied, so get the hell out of my office. Our platoon Sgt. Bryant told us, any time you guys want a 3 day pass he will give it to us...for nothing else to piss off this r.a.o.x. Rogers, maybe not a great story but sure as hell a true one.

Hi Jim

               I have another one for you....

             I would like to tell you guys how I got promoted from PFC to Specialist 4 ...thanks to a major screw up by the 58th combat engineers. You heard the old saying "the noisy wheel gets the grease?" Well I guess I made some noise but not by my own doing! One day back in 1956 the combat engineers were going out to the rifle range to re- qualify so my platoon Sergeant, Millard Bryant( god love him ) volunteered me and another guy to get an ambulance and get on the back of their convoy and spend the day at the range. We were there as medical support....that is in itself is verry funny. When we arrived at the range and some over weight Sgt. told me to pull off on the side of the road and down into a shallow ravine and stay there until they needed us. Well most of the morning we just sat there smoking and telling lies to each other. After they gave us chow there was nothing else to do so we got into the back of the ambulance and took a nap. Twice we had to get up and attend to a m- one thumb. With a bandage and some a.p.c.s they were sent on their way.

         Around 2 p.m. one of there sergeants come banging on the back doors and woke us up. He tells me that one of their 3/4 ton trucks has broken down and it was sent back to the company. He then tells me he is going to put a bunch of M-1’s and carbines with 8 cases of ammo in the back of my ambulance and for me to bring it back to the company at the end of the day. Well being the wise guy that I am and being from New Jersey, I told him as per the Geneva Convention, medics were not allowed to carry, or transport weapons or ammo at any time. He then showed me the 3 rockers under his Sgt strips, looked me in the eye and says....I’m not asking you PFC Mc Kaig...I’m telling you. He then says he will explain the situation to my commanding officer in the morning. Well that seemed fair to me so after they loaded the back of my ambulance there was almost no place to sleep, but we found a way. Now I don’t remember how much longer we were there, but at one point in time I woke up, had a smoke and something didn’t seem right. There was no firing sounds coming from the firing range. I told my assistant to climb up to the top of the embankment and see what’s going on. Are they getting ready to move out or what? When he gets back he tells me their all gone...and there is a big lock on the gate. We were locked in !!! Now its about 4p.m. So I told him don’t worry when they get back to Fulda and find us missing sure as hell they will send someone back with a key to let us out. We had no way to contact the company so all we could do was sit and wait. After all, how can you miss an ambulance not being in your convoy??? Well now its getting to be around 5:30 and were going to miss chow if they don’t come back soon.. Well about 5;50 pm I get this strange feeling they have forgotten about us, and that no one is coming to rescue us. I backed the ambulance out of the ravine and got as close to this 20 ft. high gate as I could. I grabbed on of the M-1’s and a 30.06 round and put it in the chamber. I don’t think I was 20 feet from the lock. Not like my partner who went all the way back to the ravine. I fired and the gates swung open thank God. Well we closed the gate and wrapped the chain around the fence without the lock as best we could. Then I drove back to Fulda. It’s now about 6:40 p.m. When I pull into company to tell my story ( did I mention we missed chow?) well the C.Q. didn’t know what we were talking about so he calls Sgt. Bryant to the office. Sgt. Bryant comes running into the office as red as a beet. He asked if I was o.k. and I told him yes, then all hell broke loose. He took my ambulance like a bat out of hell down to the 58th Combat Engineers that was just down the street. He pulled up in front of their Co. Hq., opened the back doors of the ambulance, gunned the motor...popped the clutch an peeled out and leaving all kinds of guns and ammo behind him. Well after all was said and done a few weeks later I was promoted to Spec. 4

I Mike Mc Kaig have told only a few people of this incident...

Good Story Mike. To bad that you did not know about the house in the woods by the firing range where members of the rifle team would go and eat Butterbrot and drink bier. That place was heaven sent on a snowy cold winter day. Jim Decker

                                                                                 Mike  Mc Kaig