Italy 1943-45

One day an Italian enemy soldier walked in to our compound with his hands high in the air, although nobody was aiming a gun at him. His friend, who also held his hands high, accompanied him.

This is a true story, so help me God.

They decided to surrender to my first aid station, which was very smart because it had a big red cross on the tent, and we had no guns. Almost all of the men in my medical detachment were Italian boys from Rochester New York. They welcomed and greeted these Italian prisoners speaking Italian, of course.

Well, I was not aware of any of this having occurred until about two days later. I noticed these two strange faces walking around in the medical detachment area dressed in American fatigues. They always seemed to be walking just behind Sergeant Pezzula.

I must admit Sergeant Pezzula really ran the outfit, and he always called me “Doc” instead of captain. Actually, now that I think about it, he never really saluted me as he was supposed to. He sort of waved at me!

Well, that was because sergeant Pezzula was with the original National Guard unit for many years before we went overseas. As for me, I was a green, military-untrained civilian young doctor, fresh out of an internship. He really taught me everything that I should know about “soldiering.” I had to sacrifice that traditional “non-intimacy” that is expected between a commissioned officer and enlisted man.

He explained that these two prisoners were wonderful helpful kind Italian fellows that passionately hated Mussolini. In addition, they were down right scared of the Germans. He also had it all planned out that one of them would be my “Batman” (British for manservant) and the other would do the same duty for the rest of the guys. Would you believe that?

		My Italian "Batman"		Sgt. Pezzula's Italian "Batman" in Florence

Well, it worked fine for about five or six months until a major from Headquarters Company could not identify them during a routine inspection. When he asked them their names (in English) they responded by repeatedly saluting him. I guess he saluted back a few times, when it occurred to him, “What the hell is going on here?”

I recall that the Colonel wanted to kill me. “Didn't it occur to you that these people are our enemy?” He spoke to me through clenched teeth, and with his nose about two inches away from mine. Fortunately, field doctors were in very short demand. I recall saying “Yes, Sir” several times and thinking to myself that I am going to surgically remove Sgt. Pezzula's testicles this time.

Shortly thereafter, I had Pezzula standing at attention, in front of me, with my nose close to his. He was made aware that I had the authority and a damn good reason to “bust him down” to a private. He pleaded that his monthly pay goes directly to his mother in the States, and that I would be taking the food out of her mouth. What could I do? He suckered me in again.

It all ended up by Pezzula saying. “Thanks Doc, you're a great guy.” As he left he almost saluted me.

P.S. - Sergeant Pezzula married a local girl near Foggia Airfield and I was best man... It was just as well; I could never find him at night anyway...

It was a crazy war!

	I was best man (at his left) - Foggia, Italy, 1944