Trafford Publishing: Mountain Troops and Medics: A Complete World War II Combat History of the U.S. Tenth Mountain Division

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Mountain Troops and Medics: A Complete World War II Combat History of the U.S. Tenth Mountain Division - A Battle Surgeon's True Stories

by Albert Meinke Jr.

306 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-0413; ISBN 1-55369-600-X; US$26.00, C$33.95, EUR22.10, £15.30

A complete combat history of the U.S. TENTH MOUNTAIN DIVISION in World War II, told in the wartime stories of one of its front line Battalion Surgeons.

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about the book about the author sample excerpts catalogue info

About the Book

Mountain Troops And Medics is a complete World War II Combat History of the U.S. Tenth Mountain Division written by Albert H. Meinke, Jr., M.D., who served as one of its front line infantry battalion surgeons during all of the division's combat in 1944-45. It unfolds as a series of interesting, true personal stories, presented in chronological order, which makes the history easy to read and to digest.
The Tenth Mountain Division was a very special Army division made up of carefully selected skiers, mountaineers, and experienced outdoorsmen. Known as the "SKI TROOPS," these men trained long and hard to fight on skis and snowshoes, and to survive in below zero temperatures in mountainous terrain so hostile to military maneuvering that it was necessary to use pack mules to transport supplies, ammunition and equipment.
During the winter of 1944-45 this division entered the military stalemate in the Apennine Mountains in Northern Italy, and on its first offensive cracked the German defenses to take Riva Ridge and the key mountain peaks, Monte Belvedere, Monte Gorgolesco and Monte della Torraccia. It was the first Allied division to break into the Po Valley, and first to reach and cross the wide Po River, using hastily obtained, hand-paddled assault boats. It then continued its rapid advance, as the vanguard of the Allied Armies in Italy, until it reached the Austrian border.
The author not only served with the first of this division's combat troops to leave the continental United States and participated in all of the Division's major battles, but also served in every one of its special task forces deep behind enemy lines. Most of the time he was well informed about local military strategies and Division objectives.
Drama, excitement, tragedy and humor are included in these stories of preparations for combat, unusual fighting conditions, care of wounded soldiers at the front, and wartime conditions in Italy. Written in non-technical language, the book is easy to read, and fulfills the requirements for an outstanding and unusual gift, especially to all World War II participants, history and military buffs, mountaineers, ski enthusiasts, and almost everyone connected with the field of medicine.

About the Author

Dr. Meinke was born and grew up in Detroit, Michigan where he was graduated from Thomas M. Cooley High School. In 1940 he completed pre-medical studies at Albion College and entered medical school at the University of Michigan. In 1941 he received his A.B. degree from Albion, and, because of a sharply accelerated program brought about by the entry of the United States into World War II, received his M.D. degree in October 1943. After an abbreviated internship he entered the service on August 2, 1944.
Twice decorated, Dr. Meinke was awarded the Bronze Star Medal for his participation in the battle for Monte Della Torraccia, and later received a Bronze Oak Leaf Cluster for outstanding service in the clearing of casualties from the tunnel disaster on the shore of Lake Garda. He also holds the Combat Medical Badge, which is the equivalent of the Combat Infantry Badge awarded to infantrymen for participation in front-line combat.
While in medical school he met Edmere I. Bondesen, a lovely girl from Detroit who was also attending the University, and near the end of July 1944, only a few days before Dr. Meinke entered the Army, they were married. With military service completed, they settled in Eaton Rapids, Michigan and started their family. There are four children: Albert H. Meinke, III, M.D., William B. Meinke, M.D., James A. Meinke and Joanna Meinke Ballard.
Dr. Meinke then entered into general medical practice in Eaton Rapids, but soon leaned toward general surgery, obstetrics and emergency medicine. He was deeply involved in the establish-ment and operation of the Eaton Rapids Community Hospital, and for many years served as its medical director, chief of surgery, and head of emergency services. He also served on its governing board for a time. In 1948 he helped to establish the Eaton Rapids Medical Clinic, one of the first group practices in Michigan, and later served as its president for many years. In 1984, after forty years in practice, he retired. He and his wife now reside in a lovely home on the west shore of Torch Lake in northern Lower Michigan.

Sample Excerpts

We stayed under cover in the aid station all day, and after darkness fell, we watched Riva Ridge, which was not far in front of us, with tense anticipation. The attacking forces moved out soon after darkness fell, but we didn't know the exact time. As we watched, our searchlights were still moving their beams about on the ridge top as usual, but the rock faces, where our soldiers were climbing, remained in darkness, and we could see nothing of them. As the hours passed everyone became increasingly tense and edgy. Midnight came and went, and still we heard nothing. We knew that the men were carrying heavy loads, of which only a canteen and some K Rations were not weapons or ammunition. Were the routes too steep? Were the loads too heavy? Certainly, by now enough time had gone by for them to have reached the top. One o'clock passed and still we heard nothing. What could possibly have happened? What was going on?????
Shortly after 1:00 a.m. we heard sounds of combat. It sounded as if it began with machine pistols, but rifles, grenades and mortar rounds soon followed. The sounds seemed to come from high up, so it appeared that at least some of our assault forces had reached the top. Now our searchlights were shut down, leaving the peaks above in darkness. Was this a good sign, or was it bad?
Intermittently, for the rest of the night, the sounds of combat came down to us from the top of Riva Ridge, but we weren't receiving any news of progress, and we knew nothing about what was happening. The hours dragged on, but finally, in the middle of the morning on the 19th of February 1945 we received a report of the progress made in the fighting up above, and the news was good. All of the attacking companies had reached their objectives before daybreak, and some of the expected counterattacks had already been repulsed. Casualties had been astonishingly light, and we would be getting some of them soon. Of course we could not know how many there had been, but we knew then that it was far, far less than the 90 percent estimates we were thinking about beforehand.

Late that evening I joined a group of our men who had gone outside to enjoy the calm, peaceful serenity of this valley away from the front. The weather was unusually warm, and there was almost no wind. Sounds carried so well that we could hear occasional snatches of conversation from afar. An occasional enemy shell could be heard as it exploded in the far distance. All was quiet. The sky was clear and the valley was bathed in moonlight.
I had been outside but a short time, when, from across the valley in the direction of Regimental Headquarters, we heard a tremendous explosion. We all agreed immediately that we had never heard anything like it before, and we were completely at a loss to explain its origin. By this time we had been at the front long enough to recognize the sounds made by the various explosives that the enemy used against us, and this was something new and strange. Opinions were expressed as to its cause, including the possibility that the enemy had used one of its super powerful railroad guns, which were capable of firing large shells for distances in excess of twenty miles. I thought that someone or something had set off an unusually powerful antitank mine. We all hoped that no one had been hurt.
The next morning we learned what had caused the explosion. It had occurred at the Regimental Aid Station. I learned the details from several of my men who had talked to eyewitnesses from both inside and outside the building. The story as it was told to me follows:
It seems that some of the regimental officers had a little party earlier that evening, and when it ended one of the regimental surgeons returned from it in good control of his faculties, but feeling quite relaxed. As he climbed the stairs to his quarters he was smoking a cigarette, and when he reached the top floor the urge to urinate became overpowering. Instead of entering his room, he turned the other way, entered the toilet room, and relieved himself. Then, with lighted cigarette still dangling from his lips, he flushed the toilet bowl using one of the five-gallon cans in the room. What he didn't realize was that he had picked up a can of gasoline instead of one of the water cans. As soon as he saw that the bowl had flushed properly, he turned to leave the room, and upon reaching the door, decided that he no longer wanted the cigarette that still dangled from his lips. So, from the partially opened doorway, he flipped it across the room into the toilet bowl!
The resulting explosion was what we had heard the evening before. Gasoline had passed down the duct system all the way to the manure pile below, leaving the soil pipes filled with a highly explosive mixture of sewer gases, gasoline vapor and air. The explosion was so powerful that it blew away a wide vertical band of the outer wall of the building, from the top, all of the way to the ground. One of the witnesses who was outside said that he heard the explosion, and at the same time saw this portion of the building's outer wall fly outward. Then everything fell into the barnyard below, producing a large, instant heap of rubble. In a few seconds people appeared at almost all of the doors and windows in the building, and there was much shouting in Italian and waving of arms. An unbelievable number of people soon spewed forth from the doorway, still waving their arms, wringing their hands, and yelling. Fortunately there had been no one in any of the toilet rooms, and no one had been hurt.

The snow in the fields was already beginning to melt when word was passed along the column that we had arrived, and would occupy this beautiful territory indefinitely. Battalion Headquarters was being established up ahead in the village of Resia, and now I had to find a suitable place in which to establish the aid station. My eye fell upon the hotel at the lakeshore, and I decided to look there first.
We were now in German speaking territory, and I didn't think I would need Consiglio, so I went alone. As I approached it, the building kept looking better and better. I walked up a few steps onto a small porch, and knocked on the door. It opened almost immediately, and there stood a German soldier in an immaculate full dress uniform. Showing no expression on his face, he raised his arm smartly, clicked his heels and said, "Heil Hitler." I didn't return the salute, and I don't believe he expected me to return it, for he lowered his arm immediately.
Actually I was astounded by this development, but did my best not to show surprise and to appear calm and confident. The German soldier of course didn't know that I could understand German, and he now stepped backward and to one side while motioning for me to come in and then to follow him. We passed quickly through what appeared to be a small hotel lobby. At the far end he opened a door and indicated that I should enter. Once again I was surprised, but I instantly recognized the scene, which greeted me, for I had seen it many times before in war movies. I was in the office of the Kommandant, the commanding officer of whatever unit it was that was occupying the building.
Behind a large desk sat a German captain facing the door through which I had just entered. On the wall behind him was a large picture of Hitler, and Nazi flags, on flagstaffs, stood in stands on each side of it. Also in the room, standing at attention, were about half a dozen other Germans in uniform, but I don't remember them very well, nor do I remember their ranks. I had barely entered the room when the Captain arose from his chair, and threw me my second snappy Nazi salute. I didn't answer this one either, but looked around the neat, orderly room, and at the Germans in their spotless uniforms and highly polished boots. Then I looked down at my own dirty coat, still wet from melting snow, and my mud flecked combat boots, and thought, "What a contrast!" For about twenty seconds nothing happened. Then the German Captain unsnapped the holster at his side and pulled out his pistol. I felt a moment of panic as I thought, "My God, he's going to shoot me!" However, he didn't shoot.
Instead, he handed the pistol to me butt first, and tried to tell me, in English, that he was surrendering his hospital to the United States Army. His English was so poor that it became quickly apparent that he would be unable to carry on satisfactorily with it, so as I slipped the pistol into my coat pocket, I said to him, "Sie können es alles auf Deutsch sagen, aber langsam bitte." ("You may say everything in German, but slowly please.") This broke the ice, and as I looked around the room again, I noted expressions of relief on some of the other faces. There was even the hint of a smile or two.
The German captain explained that he was in command of a German Army Field Hospital, and that about one hundred patients were still housed in the building. He obviously recognized my Cadeuceus emblem, which was worn by all Army doctors and which I wore on my collar, and he quickly asked, "Can you operate?" I replied that I could, but would do so only if absolutely necessary. First he should brief me about his hospital and its operation. Then we should make rounds together, and I would look at his patients and inspect the hospital. So we went into the main dining room, where I was able to see the patient records and ask questions, and after that we went through most of the building together.

Catalogue Information