| James W. Taylor's WWII Experiences |
| Donor | Original Source | PIMA ID | Donor ID | Category |
| Richard P. Ellinger | James W. Taylor | NA | RPE-44079 | OCR-DA-P |
| Frankly, there wasn't much that needed to be done. Once a week I would gather up the shoes that needed to be repaired, take them into Munich, and pick up those shoes that had been taken in the prior week for repairs. My "office" was on the ground floor of a large hanger that was a machine shop, plane repair shop etc. When I would go into Munich, my P.O.W.s were free to go over and help at the machine shop etc. These kids were very young. I believe each one assigned to me had been in the German Infantry. I was just past my 21st birthday but they must have been only 16 or 17. At lunch time I would deliver them back to the compound where they would eat. I would go to my mess hall for lunch, well prepared by a German Chef, who I was told had been a Chef on the German luxury liner, I believe it was the Brennen. I can not confirm the accuracy of that rumor. After lunch I would go back to pick up my ~prisoners of war", for whatever work that needed to be done. I did feel sorry for them, and had no particular hatred for those young kids. Sometimes I would take a cookie or a piece of cake or candy and give it to them. They were truly appreciative. Some may rogard my act as a sign of weakness---l consider it a act of compassion and I believe they viewed it in that same light.
One thing that always gave me a real giggle (not audible nor visual however) was whenever anyone of my "prisoners" had a need to go to the bathroom, They would come into my ~office~, come to attentTon, cilck their heels, salute me and say (In their broken English), "Sir, may I go to take a --------. Sometimes I wondered what would have happened had I denied the request. December of 1945 near Munich, seemed to be gray, cold, and for the most part unfriendly. I did go into Munich on a few occasions other than my official delivery / pick up trips. I do recall going in on one occasion and into the USO or the service club. The place was crowded with G.l.'s up to the rafters and it would have been about the only place where one could get a snack of any sort. Food was even in shorter supply than it had been in France. The thing that I remember most was a cello player. He was there on a slightly elevated platform, calmly playing his instrument without the usual gyrations so common among cello players. I can't remember what he was playing, but I thought that it was beautiful. I was annoyed because none of the G.l.'s were paying any attention, indeed they were loudly carrying on conversations at full volume, much like one might find at a cocktail lounge with a piano bar and the musician was there for background accompaniment. I would have preferred that the yammering G.l.'s would have sat down and listened to the music. W78-80 P.79 |
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