By Charles F. Marshall
In the course of global battle II, Charles Marshall wound up within the hellhole of Anzio, entered liberated Rome, took half within the August 1944 invasion of Southern France, and the Allied develop via Alsace, around the Rhine and into Germany. This autobiography is predicated at the diary he stored all through.
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Extra resources for Ramble Through My War: Anzio and Other Joys
Back in Algiers later he was to go into the "off limits" Medina (native quarter) and lie with a twelve-year-old Arab girl. His mania for collecting sexual experiences, I reflected, could not have been an asset in his wife's eyes and was probably one of the causes for his failed marriage. Arriving in Oran, we delivered the trucks and started back to Algiers with the jeeps. It was another drizzly day, and en route one of the jeeps Page 10 skidded on the slippery road, pushing an Arab and his donkey into a ditch.
He was divorced from the German woman he had married while a graduate student studying in Germany, and the marriage had soured him on women, although it had not diminished an insatiable appetite for priapic adventure. Doc Pundt was a man with whom I would be closely linked in the campaigns in Italy, France, Germany, and Austria. Although on the surface we did not have much in common, we would become good friends. We were ten years apart in age, and whereas I was a practicing Catholic with a conservative background from the world of business, he was an atheist and, like so many in academia, an apostle of socialism, whose cause he sought tirelessly to advance.
There were recollections of the relaxed days in Naples as we planned the invasion of southern France. And then the not-so-relaxed day of the actual invasion as, hanging on to a rope with the naval guns firing over us, we waded ashore through shoulder-deep water. There were flashes of the eclectic mix of places I had slept: among others, caves and cellars, palaces and grand chateaus, barns and orchards, tents, and even for a while in a house with a feather bed. Disappointments there were many, sorrows many, and far too many friends were killed.