Clergyman's

When General Maxwell Taylor, back in the war zone after conveniently missing a tiny skirmish called the Battle of the Bulge, came through for an inspection, I mentally rolled my eyes. ""Sergeant, were you wearing your helmet when it was hit?"" he asked, looking at a helmet with a chunk missing after I'd taken a bullet from that P-47 that the krauts had apparently stolen and used to dive-bomb us. I wanted to shake my head and say, ""What do you think?"" Instead I said, ""Yes, sir."" ""Well, in that case you can continue wearing it."" The incident showed how little the pencil-pushing brass knew about frontline duty. Anyone with a helmet with that kind of damage wouldn't have had a friggin' head if the helmet hadn't been on his head when he was hit. I continued to wear it. And would have even if he'd told me I couldn't.
- Donald Malarkey

Lieutenant Peacock, the guy who'd busted us back in Aldbourne for smuggling in the girls in leopard-skin tights, won a thirty-day furlough back to the States. OK, Lewis Nixon won it but had the guts to stay, and Peacock was the lucky runner-up. Most of the guys were happy for him, not because he got to go home, but because they got rid of him. Nice guy, but in over his head.
- Donald Malarkey

Lieutenant Peacock, the guy who'd busted us back in Aldbourne for smuggling in the girls in leopard-skin tights, won a thirty-day furlough back to the States. OK, Lewis Nixon won it but had the guts to stay, and Peacock was the lucky runner-up. Most of the guys were happy for him, not because he got to go home, but because they got rid of him. Nice guy, but in over his head.
- Donald Malarkey

We'd heard that General Taylor was now back in Bastogne. Everybody was ordered to shave within twenty-four hours and to remove their boots once a day and massage their feet. I refused the foot order, having tried and found it only made things worse. Come to think of it, I refused the shaving order, too, as did most of us.
- Donald Malarkey

I didn't cry after learning Skip Muck was dead. That would come later. Much later. Not that it didn't hurt. Hell, I'd never felt pain so deep. He was like my brother. No, closer than my brother. But by January 9, when he'd died in a shelling about one hundred yards east of where I was, I was too mentally numb to really react. Too tired. I didn't sleep a wink for two nights after Roe broke the news to me. And after seeing Toye and Guarnere carted off, and Compton leaving, it was like dumping ice on a guy who was already frozen stiff. But the main reason I didn't crumble at his death is I couldn't. That wasn't allowed. With Compton gone, I realized I had to step up and lead. After Guarnere went down, Winters had promoted me to permanent sergeant status. Now, Buck was gone. From day one, you're taught that the good of the whole is more important than just you. That you can't let your emotions get in the way of the task at hand. So like a doctor who deals with pain and death each day, you just bury it somewhere deep down inside, thinking it'll go away on its own.
- Donald Malarkey

On New Year's Eve, I thought back to a year ago, Skip and I celebrating with the guys in England. Warm. Wild. All the food you could eat. Now, we sat in our foxholes and talked quietly. Then, with permission from Compton, just because we had ammo, we fired off six rounds of mortars to let the Germans know the worst was yet to come. A few days later, we were hunkered down when a jeep pulled up down the way, snow kicking up from its tires. It was Father Maloney. And who in the hell's with him but Joe Toye. Arm in a sling. Hadn't shaved since Adam was born. But there he was, walking across the field towards the front line. Winters saw him. ""Where are you going?"" he asked. ""You don't have to go back to the lines."" Toye looked at him. ""Gotta get back with the fellas,"" he said. And he walked back to join the boys in Easy Company. Like the others, I just stood and watched in awe.
- Donald Malarkey

On New Year's Eve, I thought back to a year ago, Skip and I celebrating with the guys in England. Warm. Wild. All the food you could eat. Now, we sat in our foxholes and talked quietly. Then, with permission from Compton, just because we had ammo, we fired off six rounds of mortars to let the Germans know the worst was yet to come. A few days later, we were hunkered down when a jeep pulled up down the way, snow kicking up from its tires. It was Father Maloney. And who in the hell's with him but Joe Toye. Arm in a sling. Hadn't shaved since Adam was born. But there he was, walking across the field towards the front line. Winters saw him. ""Where are you going?"" he asked. ""You don't have to go back to the lines."" Toye looked at him. ""Gotta get back with the fellas,"" he said. And he walked back to join the boys in Easy Company. Like the others, I just stood and watched in awe.
- Donald Malarkey

Bastogne was challenging us in ways no other place had. We had no artillery power and no airpower. We were low on ammo and food. The men were cold, fearful, exhausted. I've heard a soldier loses his effectiveness in combat after about 90 days; we'd been in action for 107 since Normandy. This wasn't exactly how any of us had expected to spend Christmas 1944. As if our situation wasn't ominous enough, word filtered through Easy's ranks from a medic back in Bastogne: The Germans had closed the circle. The 101st Airborne was now completely surrounded, but as Winters would remind us, ""We're used to that. We're paratroopers.
- Donald Malarkey

Wearing that uniform with the screaming eagle on it, people knew two things about you: You were a damn good soldier- and half crazy.
- Donald Malarkey

One afternoon, in the basement bar of the Regent Palace Hotel, I noticed two red-beret sergeants from the British 1st Airborne Division sitting down the way. In London, these guys were honored above all; nobody in a red beret was to be arrested for drunkenness. Eventually they noticed my 101st Airborne patch, the screaming eagle. ""We owe a tip of the hat to the 101st,"" said one. ""Got us across the Rhine one black night after we'd been trapped behind enemy lines."" I jiggled the ice cubes in my Scotch. ""I knew,"" I said. ""That was my company, E Company, 506th."" They scoffed a bit and looked around each other, obviously thinking that I was trying to take some credit that wasn't due me. ""Oh, really?"" one said with a touch of doubt. ""Yeah,"" I said. ""I was on the rescue team."" ""Well, of course you were, old chap- so was my dead aunt Lucille,"" said one, and they both laughed. My Scotch was settling in. I paused, then took another sip. ""Say, how's that tank sergeant, the commander from the Seventh Armored Division who headed up that outfit known as the Rats of Tobruk? Guy was in my boat."" Their eyes widened. ""After we got him safely across the Rhine, he told me his wife had already been a widow and he was gettin' out of this 'bloody war.'"" They froze in silence, then one of them cleared his throat. ""To E Company,"" he said, holding up his drink. I clinked my glass with the others and nodded, then held mine high. ""To E Company.
- Donald Malarkey