The following story is based on the actual experiences of David Gilchrist, a Corporal in a Machine Gun Platoon of the United States Army during the Korean War.  He enlisted in the National Guard when he was a junior at Canton High School.  The Korean War started a week after Mr. Gilchrist graduated high school.  He was federalized through the National Guard, became part of a regular army division, and was sent for training in Virginia for eight months.  Then Mr. Gilchrist was shipped off to Munich, Germany, to aid in the war effort.  He was in command of a squad of eight people from 1950-1952. 

Today, Mr. Gilchrist is a resident of Canton, Connecticut.

German Minibus

This particular Thursday in August of 1952 had started out like any other day for 18-year-old Corporal David Gilchrist.  He and his squad had to patrol the Czechoslovakian border of Germany two weeks out of every month.  Time passed slowly at the border, and the only thing anyone could think about was getting back to camp.

Germany was hot and humid by 11:00 in the late summer.  There was scarcely a wisp of white cloud in the still blue sky.  The leaves on the trees hardly rustled in the stale air.  David looked up at the bright yellow sun and wondered how long it would be until dark.  Sweat trickled down his face and into his mouth, and his stomach grumbled as he licked the salt from his lips.

The American machine gun platoon was not fed well when they were on border patrol.  They were given a meal in a tin can called a C-Ration.  Last night’s meal had consisted of two turkey legs, some mushy cabbage, and canned chocolate.  The squad had decided to try warming the food on the exhaust manifold of their Army truck.  At the time, they thought it would taste better warm.  Now, David didn’t think that was such a good idea.  He could still taste the gasoline and antifreeze flavoring that the exhaust had added to the turkey.  David couldn’t wait to get back to camp in Munich.  Anything was better than this.

Time crawled by.  Their placement was very strategically marked.  Each gun platoon was allotted an area of a little less than a mile, and the machine guns were set up where there was an open line of fire.  The eight men in David Gilchrist’s platoon actually had to walk the area between each machine gun and keep an eye out for any Russians.  Any sight of them would surely result in combat.  David wasn’t scared, though.  If we are going to see any Russians there will be all kinds of signs.  There’s no way they can make a surprise invasion, David thought.

Finally, 5:00 came.  They were done with their shift, and the next platoon would be arriving shortly.  The men boarded a small truck convoy and made their way back to camp.  As they left the border and headed down the small country roads, the mood of the group changed entirely.

"Hey fellas, the mail is supposed to come today in Munich!" a soldier exclaimed.

"Are you waiting for a letter from your sweetheart?"  Someone made kissing noises and the group exploded with laughter.

"No.  My mother is supposed to be sending me some cookies…."

David sighed as he thought of his family at home.  He couldn’t wait to see if he had any letters.  Being the only boy in his family, David often received multiple letters from his sisters and his mother.  They worried, as women often do, about his well-being.

"Man! This road sure is dusty.  I can hardly see a thing," the driver complained.  It was true.  David noticed that there was a large brown cloud forming on the road ahead of them.  It seemed to be coming from the right, perpendicular to the army truck.  The dust ball got closer and closer until it was directly in front of the soldiers.

WHAM!  The truck hit something!  David felt his body lurch forward, moving in slow motion.  Soon, he saw the dust settle on another vehicle in front of theirs.  Then, all of a sudden, Bam! David’s head slammed into the seat in front of him.  David saw bright blue spots before his eyes, and he blinked hard to make them disappear.  David felt his forehead for blood, but there was just a large sore spot.  It would make a nasty bruise the next morning.

"Is everyone okay?  No broken bones, right?" David asked his company.  He was greeted with a few grumbles.  David looked around at the group.  They were all rubbing elbows and knees in the same fashion as David had moments earlier.  "I’ll get out and check the other vehicle.  Everyone else, stay inside the truck."

David gingerly climbed out of the convoy to see the vehicle that their truck had collided with.  It was a German minibus!  It was large and square, a bit bigger than a van, and had overly large mirrors on the sides order to see behind it.  The bus had a driver and one passenger who seemed to be in decent shape for the time being, so David really didn’t think much about them.

Instead, he paused a minute to look at the damage done to the army’s truck.  Remarkably, there wasn’t much more than a scratch on the vehicle.  He rubbed his hand over the metal, feeling for any unseen casualties to the truck.

David then made his way over to the minibus.  Just as he reached the large swinging door, an old woman came marching out.  She was short, eye-level with David’s waistband.  Her skin was extremely wrinkled, and her brow was furrowed so deeply that her thick eyebrows touched.  The woman stomped straight over to David and waved her fist wildly at him.  Her face was bright red, and David thought steam would pour out of her ears.  A shrill scream came out of her pursed lips; and, as the woman cursed at David in German, she jabbed her index finger in his face.  She was furious!

Of course, David had no idea what the woman was saying to him.  But, being the polite, young corporal that he was, David stood patiently on the dusty dirt road and let the woman raise holly hell.

After a few moments, the woman realized that David couldn’t understand her and yelling at him was pointless.  With one final "humph," she marched back onto the bus and sat in a seat as far away from the soldiers as possible.

Chuckling, David walked back to his army truck and his machine gun squad.  When the others asked him how the people on the minibus were, he just shook his head and smiled.