My Uncle Bob drove tanks in Africa and Europe with Gen. Patton.
I don’t know if he actually “drove” them or was ever graced by Patton’s presence. I recently saw the movie “Fury” and was wondering if his shit was that bad. I never heard him speak about World War II. My brother Frankie remembers him saying, “It was hot.”
He liked to keep old cars running and gladly shared them. The old tires were his worst enemy. He could strip them down without any special equipment using lug wrenches and such, a Pall Mall dangling from his lips. Must have been easier than fixing tank treads.
The Pall Malls disappeared after a cancer scare. It took surgery to discover it was only pneumonia.
He drove truck. Drove them like he might have a tank. Slow and steady. I was in the backseat when a California trooper pulled him over on an L.A. freeway for going too slow.
He drove me before dawn for my first day in the Navy. He said I’d never regret it. That wasn’t true.
He was good to me. After Patton I guess my shit wasn’t much.