A Vet’s Story – Joseph Heidenwolf

Gen Patton was his mentor

Joseph Heidenwolf, 18, filed through the uniform distribution line at Fort Meade, Md. “What size shirt and pants do you take?” asked the distributor.

“I don’t know,” answered Joe.

“Who the heck did your buying at home? Your mother?” retorted the distributor.

“Yeah!” said Joe.

Joe was young and inexperienced, but he had no fears of being sent overseas. He felt invincible. Soon after, Joe boarded the U.S.S General Darby and was shipped to Berlin, Germany.

Joe had been eager to enlist in the Army for several years and was disappointed when his parents refused to sign the waiver for him to enlist at the age of 17. Joe was resigned to wait until Aug. 19, 1946, his 18^th birthday, but postponed it until his best friend, Robert Winkler, turned 18. On Bob’s birthday, Nov. 22 of that year, Joe and Bob went to the U.S. Post Office at Fifth and Hamilton streets in Allentown, Pa., and enlisted together. They were excited to serve their country, gung ho, in fact. Joe felt like Gen. Patton when he said, “I hope the war isn’t over yet. I want to get in there!” Joe’s passion for Patton is evident in the contents of his bookcase, which holds five books on the revered war hero.

Joe and Bob had hoped to be stationed together, but they were separated after they landed in Marbourg, Germany. From there, Bob was sent south, and Joe was sent to Berlin. “I was lost,” said Joe. “I didn’t know anybody.” Joe realized that he would have to grow up really fast.

It was 1946, and Germany was divided into four occupation zones controlled by America, Great Britain, France and Russia. Berlin was in the center of the Russian zone, and Russia had instated a blockade that prohibited any movement in and out of Berlin. All foodstuffs and heating supplies were dropped into the city by air. “The Cold War was at its height,” said Joe. “With the Russians, everything was on edge.”

As a rifleman with the Third Battalion, 16^th regiment, First Infantry Division, Joe was expected to learn his gun, a .30 caliber M1, inside and out, as well as other weapons such as the machine gun and the bazooka.

Joe followed a strict schedule: 5 a.m. wake-up, reveille at 6, training until lunch and then again all afternoon. When Joe was assigned extra duty, he was put on guard duty or kitchen patrol after training hours ended. “It was training, training, training. Constant training,” said Joe.

Joe’s training schedule was based on 50 minute rotations during which he attended class for marksmanship and map reading, among other subjects. During his 10 minute breaks between classes, Joe smoked with his army buddies. “At that time, you started smoking at 14, 15, 16,” Joe said. “It was almost a must.”

In each barrack there were five sinks, three showers and six toilets, and with 50 to 100 hundred men in each, it was a race to wash in the morning. “You would have to wait in line, but you always made it to formation, because if you didn’t, look out,” said Joe. “It was teamwork. You didn’t monkey around. You did your thing and then got out of there.”

Joe and the others had to worry about daily inspections, as well as the rigorous formal inspection that took place every Saturday morning. On weekdays, each barrack would be inspected while the men were training, but on Saturday, the men lined up by their bunks, which were assigned by last name.

“Your shoes had to be lined up in a specified order under your bunk and had to be laced up, your shirts had to be buttoned and hung,” said Joe. The inspectors would check for unshined shoes, dirty rifles and dust bunnies. “Once, I got caught for having mud stuck between the heel and sole of my shoes,” said Joe. “They would address you right in front of everyone else. They wanted to make sure everyone heard it.”

At first, Joe was embarrassed when he was pinpointed during an inspection, but he found that it made him more aware of his duties and helped him to improve. “It eventually just came,” he said. “Everything fell into place. You knew what they were looking for.”

If a soldier did not pass inspection, he was issued a gig, or a demerit, which would prevent him from receiving a pass to leave post on weekends. Because Joe quickly learned to be careful and organized, he was promoted to the title of private first class, and later to corporal, and was regularly granted permission to leave post.

The men were released from duties on Saturday at noon, although they still had to abide by the 11 p.m. curfew. There were several entertainment options on post for the men, including a movie theater and clubs.

Joe and his buddies would often go off post to sightsee in Germany on weekends, despite the wreckage of war. Joe particularly enjoyed the zoo, as well as bowling and attending athletic events. Because of the heightened tension, the American army followed a strict policy of no fraternization with the Germans. “We couldn’t ask them for directions, and we certainly couldn’t date them,” said Joe.

Joe and the other American men, surprisingly, made friends with the Russians. “We would meet the Russian G.I.’s and get along swell,” said Joe. “Our countries were fighting, and here we are friends.”

Although Joe enjoyed himself on the weekends, he was very homesick during the holidays. He and his best friend, Thaddeus Patrick Martin, spent their Christmases listening to records and drinking. “Those were the homesick days,” said Joe. Joe specifically recalls the Christmas of 1947. “I drank too much and fell into the Christmas tree!” he said.

Although Joe found a way to enjoy Christmas, his favorite holiday came in May of 1947. Gen. Lucius Clay designated Joe as a bugler and took him to Luxembourg on Memorial Day to honor the Third Army, which fought in the Battle of the Bulge. Joe played “Taps,” traditional at military funerals, and was thrilled to visit Patton’s grave. “That has always lingered in my mind,” said Joe. “It was a beautiful sight.”

Patton was revered for his rigorous discipline and military intelligence, and his troops were known for their exceptional morale and drive. He was an invaluable resource for the United States in World War II and is remembered as the liberator of Germany. Patton died in a car accident in the December 1945.

In 1949, Joe was discharged from the army and sent home to Allentown. He enlisted in the National Guard and was dispatched to Camp Perry on Aug. 7, 1950. The Korean War had just broken out that June. “I was happy to go again,” said Joe.

Joe trained at Camp Perry until Labor Day, 1950, when he was sent to Camp Stuart in Georgia. In May of 1951, he was transferred to Fort Dix in New Jersey, where he stayed until he was sent to Korea that November.

Joe arrived in Pusan, Korea, on Nov. 11, 1951, and was assigned to be a supply specialist for his unit, Battery B, 213^th AAA Gun Battalion. Joe was responsible for issuing equipment and clothing to the soldiers. To carry the supplies, Joe drove a two and a half ton truck back and forth from the docks to his post. He also communicated with Batteries A and C in Inchon and shuttled supplies between the two cities.

Joe was extremely busy with his work as a supply specialist but wanted to go into battle. “I wanted to get into the thick of things,” he said. “I was still gung ho.” Joe’s request to fight was rejected because he was needed to stay in his position. Joe was disappointed; he was confident that he could be a war hero. “I could have conquered the world,” he said.

Joe returned home in 1952. “I did nothing but run around and have a good time. I was 24 and single, and I had a ’49 blue convertible DeSoto,” he said. Even though Joe was enjoying his youth, he wouldn’t neglect the services and in September of that year, Joe took over the unit at 15^th and Allen Streets in Allentown as first sergeant. “First sergeant is the God of the unit,” said Joe. “He handles the unit. The captain depends on the first sergeant for feedback and to feed to the units.”

One night in 1953, Joe and Bob went to the Allegemeiner, a polka dance club in Allentown. Joe danced with a girl named Maria but soon forgot about her. A few nights later, Joe saw her again and asked Bob if he knew who she was. “That’s the one you were dancing with the other night!” Bob told Joe. Joe asked Maria to dance again, and a year later, the two were married.

Joe also got a job with A&B Meat Products, but when Maria became pregnant in 1955, he knew he would need a higher income to support the family. He decided to take a job with Mack Trucks.

During this time, Joe was still enlisted in the National Guard and was sent to training camp one weekend a month. He also was required to spend 14-17 days at Camp Perry, Fort Bliss or Rehoboth Beach every summer.

Mack Trucks was very cooperative about letting Joe take leave from work to attend training camps. Maria, however, was not so understanding when Joe missed three out of their five children’s births while he was away from home with the National Guard. Later Maria confided, “I wanted to kill myself…and him!”

Maria’s pregnancies were not an excuse for Joe to leave camp. When he asked if he could go home early for the birth of his first child, he was told, “What are you going to do? Deliver it? Well, you can’t, so you’re going to camp.” On July 15, 1955, Maria gave birth to their first son, Joseph, now 48. Joe returned home on July 22. Joe and Mary have four other children: Sylvia, 47; Cynthia, 43, Mary Ann, 42 and John, 39.

Joe spent a substantial amount of time away from his children while they were growing up because of his commitments to the National Guard. His dedication paid off, and Joe received several promotions, finally achieving the title of Captain. After 18 and a half years, however, he became frustrated with the changing units and petitioned to retire. Col. William S. Greer disapproved Joe’s request on the basis that Joe would not be eligible for retirement benefits unless he served 20 years. Greer helped Joe get better assignments and make contacts closer to home. Joe stayed with the National Guard for another seven and a half years. “I owe him thanks,” said Joe.

Joe, now 75, resides in Whitehall, Pa., with Marie and John. He spends much of his time in his study, where his Patton and Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower book collections are kept, as well as family photos. His medals and honors are framed and hung, but they aren’t the only visible displays of Joe’s army pride. He still stands as if he is at attention, his eye sparkles as he remembers his wartime stories, and his furrowed brow suggests years of intense discipline.

As Joe recalls his days of war, he pulls out Carlo D’Este’s biography of Patton entitled, “A Genius for War.” “Look at that face,” said Joe. “I can’t recall him losing a battle. He always outwitted the enemy. He was always on the offensive.”

Joe admires Patton most for his leadership. “He was not a politician,” Joe said. “You can’t have much of a personality if you’re leading troops.”

Joe sees those traits in himself, as well, and again quoted Patton, “I don’t lead these men to like me. I lead them to fight for me.”

“I should have been a Patton,” he said with conviction.

Joe is still deeply involved with the military. He does volunteer work at the Tobyhanna Army Depot and was planning a welcome-home for soldiers coming home from Iraq. He is also involved with the Retirement Services Office, an organization which helps military retirees and their families get their benefits.

“I was always a firm believer that every young man should spend time in the service,” said Joe, even though he was never able to convince his sons to enlist. “It helps you to mature. It did great for me. I have no regrets.”

Jayne E. Carapezzi is a senior at Lehigh University. Her hometown is Far Hills, N.J.