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Hellcats Don't Leak Oil, They Mark Their Territory!

by Lester R. King

264 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #04-0324; ISBN 1-4120-2496-X; US$23.00, C$28.00, EUR18.20, £13.50

This is the story of the men in a tank destroyer in Europe during WWII in the mad rush to beat the Russians to Berlin.

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About the Book      About the Author      Excerpts      Catalogue Information

About the Book

This is the story of the men in a Tank Destroyer Company in Europe during WWII. It follows the path of 613 TD Battalion in the mad race across Germany to beat the Russians to Berlin only to learn it was all in vain because Berlin had been promised to the Soviet Union at the Yalta Conference.

This book is full of soldier talk. It portrays the conversations between men in combat and in times of rest as well. Their fears and hopes. Their frustrations with being equipped with second rate weaponry and the pride of their accomplishments in spite of this disadvantage. The dirt, the smells, the sounds and sights of battle. The looting, drinking and fighting. The love and hate for each other.

The constant "ragging" on each other and the raunchiness of the humor is told in candid and direct language.

The shame in being afraid and the pride in overcoming it is told in a straightforward manner.

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About the Author

Les King was a nineteen-year-old assistant Gunner on the M-18, "Hellcat", Angels Chariot, from the 2nd platoon, Company "A", 643 Tank Destroyer Battalion.

He has written several short stories including Christmas Week in Belgium and Just a Short Detour on the Road of Life as well as a joke book, Raunchy, Ribald and Downright Right Disgusting .

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Excerpts

From Chapter One "The New Guy"

He was long and lean and lanky and yesterday had been his nineteenth birthday. His birthday dinner consisted of an ice cold K-ration lunch which included a small can of pasteurized process cheese food that couldn't be melted with a blowtorch, a couple rock hard crackers, chewing gum, some hard candy and a minuscule gummy ball of indissoluble bullion or a beverage powder (Kool-Aid) along with some granulated sugar, salt tablets cigarettes and matches, a can opener and a wooden spoon.

His traveling companions had tried to make a festive occasion of the day, but riding on the butt-numbing folding benches in the bed of a 6x6 GMC Truck over the roughest roads in northern France, Belgium and Germany during February did little to enrich the experience.

The driver of the 'Six-by' was a monstrous Black man who was thrilled to have been invited to take part in Chet's impromptu celebration. He magically produced a fifth of Canadian Club which he passed back to the passengers jammed in the bed of the truck. All of the men pulled generously on the bottle before returning it, half empty, to the driver. The burning whiskey felt good as it worked its way into every nook and cranny of their chilled bodies.

From Chapter "Team Wilson"

The objective of Team Wilson was a twenty mile long string of four fairly small villages. Eilendorf, the smallest, was located three miles to the northeast. The infantry patrols had reported the town was uninhabited and low resistance was expected. The next in line was Wurselen, about six miles more to the northeast, followed by Alsdorf, another five or six miles directly to the north. The final objective was the medium sized town of Julich, located another twelve miles to the northeast.

Julich was by far the most important in the series, as it actually straddled the Roer River. Everyone knew that the capture of this objective would be extremely costly in losses of life and equipment. The Germans certainly would not give it up without a fierce struggle.

From Chapter "North Rhine Plateau"

The German defensive action following the capture of Mar had been extremely stubborn. It had brought the American offensive to a complete halt.

The carnage in the streets of this ancient hamlet was unbelievable. The mountains of debris and rubble had not yet been bulldozed away. There was no way of telling where homes, stores, or other buildings once stood. Only taller mountains of stone, brick and lumber intermixed with unrecognizable pieces of furniture, clothing and other household items remained.

Clutched in the lifeless arms of a three year old was an orphaned Raggedy Ann staring blankly at the invaders with sad button eyes.

From Chapter "Team Wilson"

Stony lined the crosshairs of the sight on the base of the church tower. He gently pushed the fire control button and the M-18 rocked back on her haunches as the deadly 76mm gun discharged.

The assistant driver, who acts as observer, slowly and clearly reported,"A miss! The round went to the right. Try a hair to the left, Stony."

Stony answered, "will do", as he traversed the turret slightly to the left. He toed the fire control button again. The destroyer rocked with the recoil and Brownie slammed another round into the smoking breech.

This time his aim was good and the hit was true. The church steeple seemed to twist in pain as the round of High Explosive slammed into its base, causing a shower of slate and chunks of wood to fill the air. A mass of startled bats burst from the dark safety of the steeple. Blinded by the sunlight, they flew in confused circles like flies over a manure pile. The steeple did not fall, but instead leaned precariously to the right. The terrified forward observer climbed out onto the uppermost side of the tower and started gingerly working his way toward the ground.

I'll bet you five bucks you can't hit him," Arney challenged. "You're on!" Stony confidently accepted the bet. The muzzle of the gun moved slightly to the left and up a couple degrees.

"That ought to do," Stony mumbled as his toe feather touched the fire control button. The gun recoiled and the German soldier disintegrated in the fiery explosion. Stoner jubilantly tormented, "OK. that's another fiver you owe me, Arney. When are you ever gonna learn?"

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Catalogue Information

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