When we came to the village of Neumarket, the first thing we saw was a long section of railroad track balanced on the roof peak of a two story house as the result of a bombing. The next two days of rainy weather left everything in mud and we were miserable. We were caught along the open road with no buildings so we spent the night in the open in the cold rain. 1 just stepped off the road and lay down under a pine tree, covered up with my overcoat and tried to sleep. In the morning my overcoat and blankets were soaked and weighed a ton, but I had to wear them because I would need them again. I never even got a cold and was thankful for all the shots we got in the service, thinking they must have helped.
One sunny day after a night's march we stopped at a farm house to spend the day and rest. Bruce and I were in an apple orchard just behind the barns. Within minutes there were little fires going everywhere and we could smell strange odors of food. Eggs and chicken, and whatever else could be found around the barns, were cooking. Bruce got some eggs and potatoes while I got a little fire started. We cooked in rusty old tin cans we found in junk piles as we had no other utensils. We must have cleaned out some of these farms but it was either that or starve. Sometimes along the march the Red Cross trucks would catch up with us with some parcels that we divided among us. We also discovered that the mounds of dirt in fields near the road covered stacks of potatoes or rutabagas to keep them from freezing. We would dig out the rutabagas and eat them raw.
When we stopped in the small villages we took over all the empty churches and buildings for sleeping and guys would immediately start out to trade cigarettes and anything else we had for food. I was never any good at this so Bruce used to scrounge for us. In friendly places we did quite well at this as the people were desperate for American cigarettes. This type of marching and spreading out in farms and villages kept us mixed up with different guys all the time. We were all in the same situation so it didn't matter, but Bruce and I were still together. I don't know where Ullo was by this time.
One day we crossed the Danube River and there was a large unexploded bomb sticking up out of the pavement in the center of the bridge. We walked a little faster until we were by it. Towards the end of this march I remember being in a large open area near some buildings when a heavy rainstorm started and we all ran for cover inside them. One lone figure was laying out there under his coat in the rain and nobody helped him inside. He must have been separated from the friends who had been helping him. I found out later that he was John Bradey from Victor, N.Y. and when I got back to Camp Kilmer in New Jersey he was there and still sick. We became acquainted and he borrowed a clean shirt from me to wear home. He promised to return the shirt and about four weeks after getting home his wife sent it to me. There was enclosed a letter telling me that he was it the Buffalo VA hospital very ill from having a ruptured appendix. It had happened when we left the first prison camp, so he had suffered with that through two marches, two camps and all the way home. The will to survive was so great that it had kept him going all that way.