Trafford Publishing: Suck A Rock

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Suck A Rock

by Daniel Collier Houston

200 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-0188; ISBN 1-55369-375-2; US$20.00, C$24.95, EUR16.30, £11.30

The experiences of a boy becoming a man while serving with the Canadian, British and US Armies in World War II.

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About the book About the author Sample excerpts Catalogue info

About the Book

Readers will find Suck A Rock a thrilling spellbinding adventure mixed with romance. Wounded four times and highly decorated he quietly returned to civilian life. In 1951 he graduated from Auburn University in Architecture, which he practiced in southwest Georgia for more than thirty-years.
He now resides in north Florida with his wife of more than 50 years.

About the Author

Daniel Collier Houston a.k.a. "Alabama" was born in Montgomery, AL May 21, 1923 and in 1939 at age 16 left home and hitchhiked to Canada where he enlisted in the Canadian Army. His grandmother was part Cherokee and told him that an Indian could run 100 miles without food or water by sucking on a rock. That is why this book is named "Suck a Rock," This book outlines the 5 plus years that he fought in WW II.
Alabama also served with the British Army, was trained as a commando and went on numerous missions into Norway and France. On one such mission when things went terribly wrong he stole a German fighter aircraft and flew it out of occupied France. He did work for British Intelligence (MI5), had tea with the Queen and trained U.S. Marine Sergeants at Commando School before Pearl Harbor.
Serving with the U.S. Army during the Africa Campaign, sniping with a 55-cal Boyes Anti-Tank Rifle he took out five high ranking German officers and then one by one the ten-man patrol the Germans sent over the mountain to get him. Working for the Provost Marshal he was made a special M.P. and rode a Harley Davidson motorcycle where he led convoys to the ports for the invasion of Sicily and Italy. He took a ten-day leave with an Army Nurse and toured North Africa on the Harley. He fell in love and was engaged to marry a girl in Tunis but had to leave for the invasion of Italy.

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Sample Excerpts

SUCK A ROCK 16: Somewhere in Great Britain
Prime Minister Winston Churchill arrived a short time before the actual broadcast and gave a short speech thanking us. The band played good old American songs, I remember they played "Ma, I Miss Your Apple Pie" during the broadcast. I am sure that many of the mothers cried. The announcer introduced each of us, named our hometowns and then we would speak a few words to our families. We couldn't say much because of censorship, we were just somewhere in England. I learned years later that the Montgomery Advertiser printed a story about this.
The Queen came to the Eagle Club sometimes to pour tea. She is still one of the world's most gracious ladies. She always made it a point to talk to each one of us and she had a sharp memory. The first time she poured tea for me at the Eagle Club, her eyes sparked and she said: "Alabama, are you still doing well? I have heard good things about you." She always reminded me of my mother and I replied, "Yes, Your Majesty." This requires some explanation.
Soon after we arrived in the United Kingdom the King and Queen started "Inspecting the troops." We paraded around the drill field and passed in review. Then as we stood in formation at attention the King and Queen, with some generals, walked passed the lines of soldiers. The Queen did all the talking. Every now and then the Queen stopped in front of a soldier. Usually she would ask their names and where was their home. She stopped in front of me and asked my name and where are you from? I replied, " Daniel C. Houston from Montgomery, Alabama, Your Majesty." She said, " Oh, you are an American Volunteer," and turned to our Lt. Colonel commanding our battalion and said, "Colonel, would you arrange for this young man and 4 or 5 others to come to Windsor Castle on Sunday (the date) at a certain time?" The colonel replied, "Most certainly, your Majesty." The Queen said, "Thank you, you have good looking soldiers and many of them are tall and you must be proud of them," as she moved on down the line.
At the appointed time we arrived at Windsor Castle and soldiers from one of the guard regiments opened the gates and directed us to a place to park our lorry. Soldiers were stationed at strategic locations around the castle grounds and at each station there was a bombproof shelter made entirely of steel. One of the King's assistants, a civilian, came out and guided us inside to what looked like a small informal dining room. We passed other rooms and a huge library. One of the great traditions in England is teatime. That is why they have so many "Tea Shoppes." There were five of us and we were seated at a table. On the sideboards were trays of different kinds of crumpets and of course also the teapot, cups and saucers and silverware. The King, Queen, Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret came in while we stood at attention. Then we were all seated again except the Queen and she started pouring tea while the servants served us the trays of crumpets. Elizabeth was a year or two younger than I and Margaret was younger than Elizabeth.
The Queen started the conversation and wanted to know what it was like where we lived. Of course, Elizabeth and Margaret had private tutors but it appeared that the Queen wanted them to have first hand knowledge of people and geography of the world. The other four soldiers were from British Columbia and told them about the Rocky Mountains, the salmon runs, logging, mining, panning for gold, Hudson Bay Company, trapping for furs and how the Japanese Current in the Pacific kept the coast warmer than one might expect. I told them about the south and misconceptions, how the accents were different. One of the things they didn't know was how far west the State of Florida extended and not only did California grow citrus fruit but Florida also. The girls were very interested and asked me lots of questions. Sometimes the King smiled and made short comments. The Royal Family seemed to enjoy the conversation.
After the tea was over, we thanked the King and Queen, said goodbye and they wished us good luck. The same civilian assistant guided the other four soldiers on a tour of the castle and grounds. Elizabeth and Margaret wanted to show me their horses because I had told them about how my cousin Joe and I had ridden horses to his one room schoolhouse in Covington County, Alabama. So the Princesses guided me on the grand tour. By the way, the reason the Queen knew my nickname was because the other soldiers called me "Alabama" when we were explaining the great distance from Montgomery to the headquarters of the Canadian Scottish at Victoria on Vancouver Island, British Columbia. Another by the way, before we left camp to go to Windsor Castle, we received a stern lecture from the regimental sergeant major about manners and the other four soldiers were carefully selected. The Queen wanted privates, which is what we were.
Horseracing and many other things were canceled during the war. There were not any racehorses at Windsor Castle. There was a small stable with about six parade horses and a trainer. All of the "Royals" were trained riders almost from birth. These beautiful horses were there to continue the training of the Princesses.
After we looked at the horses, we went round and about looking inside and outside of the Castle. The coronation coaches were in a garage type building. We went in. They had diamonds and other precious stones imbedded in them including the wheels. I felt one of the wheels and said; "Now if I could just get this wheel off, take it somewhere and sell it, I would be rich." The Princesses laughed. We were walking on a stone walkway when they stopped, pointed down and one of them said; " King John is buried down there, and he was hung on that beam over there," pointing to a large beam over the walkway and spanning between the two buildings. The tomb of King George and a white marble statue of an angel were in the chapel. They said that at a certain time the statue would glow as if it were alive. When the tour was over, I thanked them, said goodbye and headed over to our lorry to return to camp. I wrote my parents a letter about this trip and learned several years later that the Montgomery Advertiser published some of it.
In our Nissen hut camps, there were some huts for latrines with showers and lavatories. There was never any hot water even on the coldest of days. Anyone going on leave would carefully plan their strategy to have a cold shave and shower. There was no good way. Most of us would strip naked, run to the latrine, shiver all the way, do everything as fast as possible, and then run back. We washed our clothes the same way except we would wear our long underwear or something. In the huts where we bunked, there was a small one eye wood or coal-burning stove. To dry our "wash" we ran ropes over our heads and hung the wet clothes to dry. I was blessed because I did not have to shave until I got older. When some of them asked: "Alabama, why don't you have to shave?" I would reply, "Because I am part Indian," (most of the soldiers did not know how young I was). One of the places that I went to many times while on leave was a large dance hall and showplace in London. I think the name of it was Covent Gardens. During the early days of the Battle of Britain when we carried packs and weapons on leave, we would go in and stack our weapons and packs against the walls. There was a large sign at the entrance, which read: "PLEASE DO NOT GO ON THE DANCE FLOOR WITH YOUR HOB-NAIL BOOTS ON."
We would take off our boots and dance in our socks if we did not have dress shoes. There were long bars running down two walls of the huge room where you could purchase all kinds of beverages. The stage for the bands was the revolving type so that one band would go off while playing and the other band would come on while playing. This is how they would take their breaks. The girls always outnumbered the soldiers about 4 or 5 to one.

SUCK A ROCK 20: Somewhere in England & France
Summer 1942
In the summer of 1942, our training became intense. We did long endurance marches and cross-country runs to get into top physical shape. We noticed that many units seemed to intensify their training as if something large was about to happen.
The last of July, I went back to Commando School to train with three others for a mission. The other three were a British first lieutenant, a Free French sergeant, and a Royal Air Force fighter pilot. Most of the training was to get the fighter pilot in good physical condition, show him how to shoot and how to get on and off a submarine.
Sometime in August, we were briefed for our mission. The mission appeared to be easy enough. We were to go to a place in France at night in a submarine; go ashore and meet a farmer with a horse and wagon. He would conceal us in the wagon and take us several miles inland near a Luftwaffe aerodrome. We would leave the farmer, work our way to the flight line in the darkness and take out any guards if necessary. Then we were to help the fighter pilot, who had been trained to fly German fighter aircraft, start the engine on an ME-109 (Messerschmitt) and as he was taking off, we three were to double time away from the aerodrome. The pilot would fly the aircraft to England while we were going to a predetermined hiding place to spend the rest of the night and the daylight hours of the next day. Then, after dark, we were to meet the farmer again to return to the coast and meet the submarine.
Under the principle of "Need to Know," we were not told everything, but we understood that the Germans were using some kind of fuel additive in the ME-109 that allowed them to out run anything when they were in a tight spot. We studied maps and up to date air-photos and then memorized our route.
When all preparations had been made and just before we left England, we were told that there would be a large raid at Dieppe starting at daylight on August 19, 1942. Our mission was to arrive at the aerodrome and leave the aerodrome before daylight. The aerodrome was located to the south of Dieppe. We proceeded as planned. We left the farmer and headed toward the aerodrome about three miles away. We noticed that it was getting dawn, so we hurried. The air photos showed a gully or a wide deep ditch running parallel alongside the runway starting about the middle of the runway and ending about 100 yards from the flight line. Evidently, the Germans had constructed the gully to drain the runway. We planned to use the gully to approach the flight line. A fast conference was held. We were in the open countryside and if we turned back, we would surely be seen at daylight. The only hope we had was to try to reach the gully before daylight and after the pilot took off, shoot our way to a vehicle to use for our escape.
The lieutenant told me to get to the gully as fast as I could, and they would follow as fast as they could. I dropped my combat pack and everything else except my Tommy gun and two extra clips of ammo in my pocket. I sprinted and reached the gully. Looking back, I saw the sun rising and the others running toward the gully. All of the alarms went off because the raid had started at Dieppe. I prayed they would not be seen. A German, in a twenty-foot high tower near the entrance road to the aerodrome, started firing a machinegun at them. All three went down. The machine-gunner continued to hit them to make certain they were dead.
With the alarms sounding, the ground crews started getting all the aircraft ready for takeoff. My only chance was to get to an aircraft and fly it. Leaving the end of the gully, I sprinted toward the flight line. While I was in the open, I sensed the machine-gunner firing at me and something stung my left arm, but as soon as I reached some buildings, he couldn't see me. As I raced, I saw an aircraft with the engine running and the pilot going toward it. In the confusion, maybe I could make it. Two of the unarmed ground crewmen got in my way as they ran to start aircraft. I shot them. As I reached the aircraft with the engine running, a ground crewman was pulling the wheel chocks and the pilot was starting to climb into the cockpit. I shot the crewman and stuck my Tommy gun to the back of the pilot's head and fired. Blood and brains flew everywhere in the cockpit and on me. With my left hand I snatched the pilot back and he fell to the macadam. Climbing into the cockpit, I dropped my Tommy gun and as soon as I could, I grabbed the stick, found the throttle and with my feet found the rudder pedals and throttled up. Going straight out to the runway and then to turn for take off, I almost lost it; I was going too fast and I did not have the feel for the brakes yet to use them to turn. Anyway, I did get lined up with the runway and I had turned so that I could use the longest part of the runway. Not knowing the wind direction, this was all I could do. These seconds seemed like hours. However, the raid on Dieppe and the necessity for all pilots to scramble created enough confusion so that most of the Germans did not know what had happened and they did not fire at me.
Lining up on the runway, I went full throttle. The ME-109 had great speed and power, which I could feel pressing my back against the seat. However, I barely cleared trees and buildings as I pulled up because I didn't use the entire runway. Adrenaline was still flowing as I raced over trees and such at full throttle, but I knew that I had to throttle back and think. I climbed some and started easing back on the throttle. Where to head? To the north was the fighting at Dieppe; to the east and south was nothing but Germans. My only chance was to head west staying over France for a while. Next I had to close the canopy and get the landing gear up. Of course all the instruments and controls were in German. It was cold, but I was sweating. Finally, I found the landing gear control and raised it. Then I could throttle back some more because with the gear down it acted like a brake. The instruments were metric, but I could read the vital ones; such as the compass, tachometer and altimeter. After I calmed down some, I started thinking more clearly.
When I was growing up in Montgomery, I would ride my bicycle out to the Municipal Airport and hang around; sweep the floors, clean up oil and grease for the private pilots who owned aircraft. I didn't have enough money to take lessons, but one of the pilots who gave flying lessons and took people up for rides, let me take off and land his Piper Cub on two occasions when he was checking his engine out after working on it. He showed me the basics of flying, such as stalling out for a landing.
The R.A.F. pilot who was with us must have had a wireless frequency to call for fighter escorts to take him to England. If I crossed the coast of England, I would be shot down. So I turned on the wireless and started listening. Noticing some blood in my left sleeve, I took my khaki handkerchief out of my pocket and tied it around my arm by using one hand and my teeth because I was afraid to turn loose of the stick. Not knowing how to trim the aircraft, it was doing a lot of swaying.
Meanwhile, my course was about southwest to stay over France and when I saw Brest on the Atlantic Ocean, I started a gradual circle to the north so as to miss Land's End at the southwest tip of England. I happened to know there was a radiolocation station there. I increased my altitude to 3,000 meters, which would be about 9,000 feet. Continually turning the dial on the wireless, sometimes I heard English, but I wasn't sure. Many Germans could speak perfect English. After passing around Land's End, I headed north towards St. George's Channel.

SUCK A ROCK 24: Somewhere in North Africa
We left the train at Sidi bel Abbis, marched west and made a pup tent camp toward Tlemcen. Sidi bel Abbis was the Headquarters of the French Foreign Legion before the war. After France was occupied by the Nazis and the Vichy French government was formed, the Legion moved to French West Africa to escape Vichy control. There were a number of brothels in Sidi bel Abbis because they had been serving the legionnaires. After we made camp, we were told that we had been through an area that had an outbreak of bubonic plague; so don't eat any local food. Of course, we ignored that. If we were hungry enough, we would eat anything. The U.S. Army Medical Corps sent teams to all the camps and gave everyone shots. We were issued a large bottle of Atabrine which was used to prevent malaria. Quinine was not available during the war. The Japanese had cut off the supply. We took the Atabrine tablets for a while, but stopped when nausea, vomiting and yellow colored urine occurred. Another item we were given was giant size salt tablets to prevent dehydration. When we swallowed one of these, we would try to throw it up. Since we rarely had enough food and water, it was hard to vomit. The tablets were too strong. I did steal salt at every opportunity. If I didn't have anything to put it in, I would put it in one of my pockets and nibble on it, dirt and all.
My papers, wrapped in a gas cape, were still carried inside my shirt. I thought, this is crazy, they will certainly be lost when we start fighting. I went to the postal clerk and got some labels to address the package. Then I opened up the gas cape and took the papers out and carried everything to my new second lieutenant (90-day wonder) for him to censor everything as required. I told the second lieutenant that I would come back when he was through with everything and rewrap the package for mailing. The papers were: Certificate of Completion of Training in the United States Citizens Military Training Corps (CMTC), Fort McCelland, Alabama; United States Navy Certificate of Appointment to Recruit Chief Petty officer; United States Navy Discharge; Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders; Discharge; Canadian Army T.O.E.T. (Test of Elementary Training listing all the weapons I was trained on); Canadian Scottish Regiment Discharge; Membership Card, American Eagle Club, London, England; American Red Cross Cigarette Card and others. The only things I kept was my Canadian dog tags and my tam o'shanter, which I kept inside my shirt. The second lieutenant must have gotten excited or something, because he carried my papers to our captain to show them to him and then they showed them to the lieutenant colonel, our battalion commander. When I returned to the second lieutenant's tent he said, "Private Houston, I want you to be my platoon sergeant. I have discussed this with our captain and lieutenant colonel and they said it was my duty to select my sergeant and they would approve the promotion of whomever I select." I explained to the second lieutenant that I did not want the stripes, but I would serve as the acting sergeant because no one else in the outfit had ever been in combat. This seemed to satisfy him. I took my package to the postal clerk and mailed it. Then I stopped by another clerk's office and signed up for GI insurance, which I had never done.
Soon thereafter, I was sitting on a rock by my tent cleaning my rifle, when a bunch of sergeants from other companies (about 10, I think) paid me a visit. Their spokesman started shaking his finger at me and ranting and raving about how long and hard they had worked to become sergeants, and they would not allow me, a newcomer, to become one without working for it. He went on and on, saying they would get me if I accepted the promotion. I had listened quietly and continued to reassemble my rifle and load it. Finally, I responded. I told them it was none of their business and anyway they were not qualified to be sergeants. Then I said, "I remember when some of you who were on the same ship with me were crapping in your pants before and during the crossing of the mountains." This infuriated the spokesman even more. His face got red, his eyes were flashing and while he was saying, "We'll get you." I shot his earlobe off. His face and eyes changed in disbelief. I said, "Keep on loud mouth and the next round will be between your eyes. If any of you want to get me, now's the time, I am ready to kill any or all of you cowards and add you to my list of kills." The sergeants moved away and would not make eye contact with any of the officers or soldiers. By then, a huge crowd of officers and soldiers had gathered around. Some of my soldiers who had seen and heard the confrontation from the beginning were explaining what had happened to the officers and men who had not witnessed all of it.
I crawled into my pup tent and lay there for a while. My blood was boiling. I felt like tracking each one of them down and killing them. I knew they were incompetent and so did they. They were playing the same games they had played in Ireland and the United States, and still did not realize the horrors they would have to face. There wasn't any foxhole buddy for me in this outfit. I carried both tent halves, tent pegs and the other rope to pitch my own pup tent. I was accepted as the acting sergeant by my own platoon, which was all that mattered anyway.

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