Sorry,
Sarge, you’ll
have to take
my heart
By
W. T. Block
Reprinted
from the
Beaumont
Enterprise,
Saturday
December 19,
1998.
NEDERLAND
-- It’s been
more than
fifty years
now since I
promised Mess
Sergeant
McIlheny that
I would never
divulge our
secret. He had
threatened
that if I ever
did, he would
cut my heart
out and serve
it with brown
gravy. And
remembering
the sergeant
like I do, and
how he used to
bark orders to
everybody like
a bulldog, I
never doubted
for a moment
that he was
mean enough to
carry out his
threat.
However,
since he was
fifteen years
older than I
was, there’s
only slim
chance he is
still alive;
he’s probably
somewhere
barking our
his orders in
the ‘happy
hunting
ground.’
The
bloody battles
in the Bulge
and Ardennes
Forest had
just ended,
and then we
had to wait a
month while
the flood
level from a
blown dam ran
out of the
Roer River.
Late
in Feb., 1945,
my division
crossed over
the Roer,
racing forward
and generally
meeting light
resistance.
Somewhere in
the Rhineland
between
Euskirchen and
Remagen, my
company halted
in a farm
village to
allow our
gasoline and
supply line to
catch up with
us. Soon after
setting up my
radio in a
large farm
house, I began
exploring on
the second and
third floors.
Later
that evening,
while eating
my spam supper
on a log, I
overheard the
mess sergeant
tell a cook
that he only
had enough
flour and
ingredients
left to make
one pancake
for each
soldier the
next morning.
The sergeant
had sent a
supply truck
back for food,
but the
vehicle had
returned
empty.
"Sergeant
McIlheny," I
intruded. "If
you’ll follow
me, I think I
can help out."
"All
right, Block,"
McIlheny
bellowed in my
direction,
"but you’d
better not
lead me on a
wild goose
chase!"
A
few moments
later,
McIlheny, who
was somewhat
stout, was
panting by the
time we
reached the
attic floor of
the farmhouse.
Flues from the
fireplaces
beneath passed
through a
large metal
cabinet, from
whence was
emitted the
delicious
smells of
smoked hams,
long sausages,
and slabs of
bacon.
The
sergeant
warned that
the cabinet
might be
booby-trapped,
but I assured
him I had
already looked
inside. His
nose and
countenance
flowered and
grinned as he
savored the
sight and
smells of the
smoked meat,
but again he
warned that
the contents
may be
poisoned.
"Sergeant,"
I countered.
"What farm
family would
poison a
6-months
supply of
meat? And if
German
soldiers had
found it, the
cabinet would
be empty!"
I
finally
convinced him,
but he added,
"Block, you
keep your
mouth shut
about this, or
the old man
will have both
our heads on a
platter like
John the
Baptist! Do
you promise?"
So I promised
to keep quiet.
He
and I worked
another hour,
hauling smoked
meat in
barracks bags
back to the
mess truck.
The next
morning, each
soldier had
one pancake
and a heaping
slice of ham.
Later for
other meals,
we enjoyed
succulent
sausages and
bacons, and
the old man
inquired why
Sergeant
McIlheny
couldn’t
obtain such
tasty meat
more often.
"If
you’re still
alive,
Sergeant
McIlheny, I’ve
kept our
secret as long
as I can. I
just had to
tell somebody,
even if you
cut my heart
out!"
-
W.
T. Block of
Nederland is a
historian and
author. His
website is
http://www.wtblock.com/wtblockjr/. This database is very large and is
intended as an
area history
source for
students.
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