P.A.H.H. logo

Greek / American Operational Group Office of Strategic Services (OSS)
Memoirs of World War 2

Yugoslavia

Sergeant Carkonie is Wounded


read the caption

The Germans rarely bombed us during the daytime. We became complacent, which helped us keep our sanity; and whenever a plane would fly over our area we rarely paid attention. One late afternoon Gus Carkonie (a.k.a. Gus Carkonen), another soldier, and I were walking in an open area when a German plane unexpectedly flew low toward us. We immediately dropped down next to one of the cairns. Fortunately the bombs dropped on the other side of the cairn a few feet in front of the three of us.

The concussion from the bombs shook us up, and we had our bell rung. Gus and the other soldier's ears hemorrhaged. Though my ears were ringing, I did not hemorrhage. Unfortunately Sgt. Carkonie's wounds were severe and he was evacuated to Bari where he was placed on limited service. Gus did not wish to be transferred to limited service but had no choice with his severe loss of hearing. We sorely missed our capable group sergeant. Years later when he visited us in Oakland, Sgt. Carkonie told me his biggest regret in his life was not joining us in Greece.

As a very foolish young man I did not report the bombing incident and so there is no record of the damage to my ears. My hearing has failed since that incident, yet I am not eligible for veterans' compensation nor did I receive a Purple Heart as many have received for lesser wounds. Because of the continuous firing of weapons and the bombings at that time, I have lost 90 percent hearing in my left ear and 55 percent in my right at present. In the 1980s when I learned that the army awarded medals and Purple Hearts like popcorn during the small skirmish of Grenada, I regretted that I had not pursued a Purple Heart. I would have had the "million dollar wound" and been eligible for veterans' compensation.

According to the records, the bombing of the three us was after the Solta raid on March 19 and before the raids on the island of Miljet, May 22 and 24.

The bombings on Vis continued until we left the island June 19, 1944. We would lobby to be sent to Bari for any type of duty to get away from Little Malta for a few days. One way to get off the island was to be selected for parachute training in Italy. The OSS ordered the men who had not received paratroop training to attend parachute school in Italy, fifteen OGs at a time. A lottery was held; a few soldiers would get down on their knees and pray to draw a low number that would make them eligible for parachute training. The training would give them at least two to three weeks respite in Italy. Alex Phillips drew a low number and was in the first group to go to Italy. As luck would have it, I had one of the highest numbers, and since we had over 125 OGs on the island I figured it would take at least three months before it was my turn for jump training.

Meanwhile Perry received bad news (or maybe I should say it was good news). He was diagnosed by Dr. Markoutsas as having a double hernia and was shipped to Bari's 26th General Hospital for an operation. Of the California Five, Tom and I were the unlucky ones to remain on the island the full time our group was on Vis.

Battle of Miljet

The next raid the 4th group ~ including Alex Phillips, Tom Georgalos, and me (Nick and Perry were in the hospital in Bari) ~ participated in was on the island of Miljet, May 22-24, 1944. I was designated as a runner for Headquarters Company. We left Vis on a Landing Craft Infantry (LCI) late at night.

The LCI was a narrow boat and very fragile. We were ordered to the lower deck where we were crammed in like sardines. The officers were allowed to stay on deck. On the lower deck were double tier bunks where a few fortunate ones could sit down; otherwise we stood up with our field equipment and weapons in the crowded aisles. The men in each group carried full field equipment, rifle or submachine gun, and grenades; we also had a bazooka, two light machine guns, two mortars, four Browning automatic rifles (BAR), and the respective ammunition. The movement and rocking of the boat was an additional problem. I can't recall more than one or two small latrines or heads as they were called in the navy, and the guys that got seasick were given priority for obvious reasons. Some men did not have the opportunity to use the latrine, so they spilled their guts out on the deck. If the nerves were frayed for the forthcoming landing, the crowded conditions exacerbated our tempers. Greek nationals would swear loudly; some of the Greeks' choice words were foreign even to the Greek-Americans, though we had heard our fathers use swear words. Most Greek vulgar words don't have the dirty connotations of American curse words. In fact some of the Greek curse words sound lyrical in the beautiful Greek language. Of course the British did not have a clue what the hell the Greeks were hollering. The laughter of the Greek-Americans, listening to their Greek-national counterparts swearing, soothed the tempers and somewhat softened the terrible conditions.

The LCI was probably one of the worst boats built to carry troops. The boat was narrow, thin plated, slow; it rocked and rolled on the seas; the engines stank from the oil; and then add the stench and smells of jammed packed troops and equipment, the vomit, the farts, the sweat, and the fear of the impending landing and you have one big ugly nightmare. [note]

We had no idea what was happening on top deck, we prayed the Germans would not discover us, and more importantly; we could not wait to get off this piece of shit.

The LRDG, the #2 and #43 Commandos, and fifty Americans were engaged in this landing. Finally we received orders to land. We couldn't have cared if a division of Germans were waiting on the beach; we could not wait to get off the LCI. When we went on deck, dawn was breaking and we saw another beautiful cove and beach. (I promised myself if I survived the war I would visit the beautiful Dalmatian Islands; unfortunately Tito would not allow anyone to visit Vis.) We landed under the cover of destroyers and light coastal craft and no enemy greeted us. Evidently they were surprised with our landing, and their garrison, we later learned, was on the opposite side of the island. We saw two German Messerschmitt ME 109 fighter planes flying above us, but they did not attack us. They may have been reconnaissance planes.

The Veteran LRDG and the "Rookie" Andy

When we landed on Miljet I noticed to my left a very small village. The island was very mountainous, and the mountains were not unlike ice cream cones. Miljet was the most mountainous island that we "visited" during our stay in Yugoslavia. We began our hike up one of these tall mountains, and I walked beside a member of the LRDG. As the assistant squad leader of the 4th squad of Group 4, I was always the last person in our column, thus I had the opportunity to meet up with either another OG group or, as in Solta, the British commandos. This time I met a member of the LRDG, carrying the heavy barrel of a 75-millimeter weapon on this very steep hill. After introductions, our conversation turned to his army experiences.

He was 26 years old and told me that he had been stationed in India when the war broke out in September 1939, and he had subsequently fought in the African campaign and later in Sicily and Italy. I was 19 years old, and five years seemed an eternity. I recall asking him, You haven't seen your mama and papa in five years? He answered that his people in England are bombed nightly and we must get this bloody war over so that they might not suffer any longer. I was surprised with this young man's positive outlook. His people in Britain, unlike in America, were seeing the war firsthand and their sons in faraway places were anxious to put an end to the bloody war.


Note

  • The LCI prods my memory of the injustices of war in WW2. The frontline troops suffered and took the brunt of combat duty, while a large majority of servicemen lived out the war without hearing or firing a shot. The grunts are the frontline soldiers of the army and live under trying conditions; the LCI is a prime example. Grunts hike miles, sleep on the ground or in foxholes, and survive ice, snow, rain, and sleet or the heat of the jungles and are constantly under fire. I do not have a problem with servicemen who did not see any action, in fact I envied them. But what annoys me is when they did not see combat but would say they were with Generals George Patton or Douglas MacArthur.


Helpful Links

[Skip the navigation links: Jump to the Citation Guidelines.]

Navigation Links


[Skip the citation guidelines: Jump to the Bottom of the Page.]

Citation Guidelines


(This is the bottom of the page.)