Filthy Thirteen

by Richard Killblane

  Jake was amazed at the number of Regimental Headquarters Company veterans to turn up. Men who had not seen each other since the war embraced each other like long-lost brothers. He was even more amazed at how many veterans whom he did not know sported little name tags with “The Filthy 13” on them.

  Jack Agnew had not seen Jake since the war. After checking into the hotel he went down to the crowded foyer. He tried to enter but a bald-headed old man with his back to him blocked his way. Jack tried to scan the lobby for his dear old friend, but every time he tried to move, the bald man also moved, not letting Jack pass. After three attempts to pass, the old paratrooper became irritated and turned his attention to the man blocking his path, only to recognize the ears on that bald head. Jake McNiece turned around with that familiar grin.

  Different companies rented out rooms for their separate bars. Jake performed his old role as the provider of the company booze. He opened a hospitality room with a bar. Brown arrived first and met with Jake. He asked who was paying for the whiskey and insisted on paying himself. Jake said it was taken care of until Brown pulled out three one hundred dollar bills. Gene said he had a whole wallet full of them. Gene had done real well for himself after the war, so Jake let him help out with the tab. The bar was open all night.

  Tom and Marge brought up a crockpot full of beans and chili. Jake hired someone to cook cornbread. That first day the guests feasted in their rooms. The three-day reunion consisted mostly of eating, drinking, and socializing from room to room.

  The reunion was like a fountain of youth for the old paratroopers. They consumed life with a renewed passion. Most were up to their old tricks. Jake, Jack Agnew, and Tom Young heard someone had a bar full of bourbon on the tenth floor so they proceeded up there immediately. It was not long before Jake was “feeling no pain.” The paratrooper looked out over the balcony and said, “Jack, I think we can make it down with a couple of bed sheets.” Tom told them he would take the stairs and meet them on the ground. He left while the other two regained their senses.

  The wives had discovered a whole new side to their husbands. Food and alcohol had been an integral part of their husbands’ lives during the war and it became so again. The men bought steaks which they cooked by the pool on a big grill provided by the hotel. One wife commented that she had never before seen her husband eat so much food. Martha told her that these men were no longer in their fifties but in their twenties. From then on, whenever the men gathered together they became those young men in Toccoa again. Not having seen each other for as long as thirty years, these men shared a love greater than that of brothers. They swapped stories about the war while the wives listened. For the first time many of the wives learned about a part of their husbands’ lives that they had kept guarded. Most had never discussed the war. When they returned home, many were finally able to share that experience.

  As the first reunion came to a close, Jack Agnew reminded Jake to be sure to have Top Kick up in his room at a certain time. They wanted to make a presentation. Jake felt a little left out since he had not been asked to contribute. When he offered to pay, Jack told him he had already done enough with the reunion. When everyone arrived, Jack, the master of ceremonies, called Albert Miller up in front of the others. He proceeded to laud all the things that Top Kick had done for them and how the men revered him. As a token of their respect and esteem they had all pitched in and bought him a lifetime membership to the 101st Airborne Division Association. Jake still felt disappointed that he had not contributed to the gift.

  After Miller thanked everyone, Jack then stood and called Jake up front. He began reading off a military statement of charges signed by George Koskimaki, the 101st Association secretary. It listed the cost of a stolen train, the repair cost of a barracks that had been blown up, and finally the cost that the officers had paid for the deer killed on Sir Ernest Wells’s manor. It looked like the army was finally going to get restitution for all the damage Jake had caused. After a good laugh, Jack explained that the company had decided to forgive Jake’s debt and instead presented him too with a lifetime membership to the 101st Association.

  From then on the “get-togethers” became annual events which started a new chapter in their lives. Most of the men in this story were regulars and never missed a reunion. Their wives even became the best of friends. The veterans told and retold stories of their wartime experiences and the reunions provided fuel for new ones. Most had heard the stories enough to know them by heart. Each one had his favorite. Most stories were introduced by someone saying, “Tell us about the time when…” Then everyone would stop what they were doing to listen. The stories became an integral part of their lore, much like stories of coup among Indian warrior societies.

  The next year, they met at Tom Young’s ranch in Texas and the guests bunked in his hunting lodge. They gathered at a little stone church built from donations dedicated to the memory of Tom Young’s brother, Kaiser Young. Kaiser had been killed while fighting with the 82nd Airborne on D-Day. There they witnessed firsthand Jake’s gift as a lay preacher. Jake dedicated the first memorial service to Kaiser Young, and all those paratroopers who had not returned from the war. He found twelve biblical scriptures about eagles, with which he alluded to the Screaming Eagles of the 101st Airborne Division. He summarized his sermon by describing the strength of the bonds of brotherhood, leaving not a dry eye in the church. As everyone left, each touched the funeral flag of Kaiser at the entrance of the chapel.

  From then on, different members of the company took their turn hosting the reunions in their hometowns. Tom hosted three more. Jake hosted two in Ponca City, and even Brown held one at his lodge in Oregon. They usually closed their get-togethers with everyone clasping hands in a circle for a prayer. As the years passed, their numbers grew smaller. Health prevented more and more from attending. Jake commented that in the early days each man would show up with two suitcases, one for clothes and the other for alcohol. They usually rented one room just for the bar. Yet he pointed out that as they got older, they would show up with one suitcase full of clothes and the other full of prescription pills.

  This story began with just one man and finished with a handful of survivors. The legend of the Filthy 13 grew during World War II by accident, or perhaps by providence. They surfaced in the public spotlight only for a brief moment at the height of the war and then quickly disappeared. Jake McNiece was minding his own business on the eve of the invasion of Normandy, as usual coming up with some spur of the moment hi-jinks. Unknown to him, a cameraman happened to be around when he shaved a scalp-lock on his head and put on war paint. When the other members of the Filthy 13 followed Jake’s lead, the cameraman immortalized the moment. This incident was no different than any other to Jake. A few hours later, the war-painted, scalp-locked demolition-saboteur section jumped into Normandy. But that brief moment of preparation preserved by the cameraman excited the imagination of the public. All the American public had left was a collection of photographs of some of their best fighting men on the eve of battle, and a name that signified adventure.

  To feed the public appetite, war correspondents sought out the story of this colorful unit. The name itself added to the mystique—“The Filthy 13.” Only a few elite units during the war earned the privilege to attain a recognizable name. War correspondents for the Stars and Stripes made sure that the Filthy 13 secured its place in history. Unfortunately, the unit was in combat when the interest was first aroused. War correspondent Tom Hoge had to piece together their accounts from a trail of rumors. His version claimed that these full-blooded Indians had sworn not to bathe until the invasion and that only their white lieutenant could command their respect by besting them in fights. This June 1944 Stars and Stripes article was picked up nationwide. The more accurate account in the Stars and Stripes came from a follow-up article where the author evidently interviewed the members after their return from Normandy. It was not released until early December and was also picked up by other newspapers. Hoge’s sto
ry was too good to leave alone to such few facts. The best embellishment came from True Magazine’s war correspondent, Arch Whitehouse. Where it comes to sensationalism, he was truly a gifted writer. His story would provide the inspiration for the later movie. Tom Hoge provided the ingredients that Whitehouse turned into a story.

  Jake’s brother, Jack, continued to fly after the war. On one occasion in the 1950s, he flew several movie executives down to Mexico. While they were sitting around drinking, Jack told them some stories about his brother and the Filthy 13 during World War II. They became interested. George Koskimaki, a veteran of the 506th PIR and historian of the 101st Airborne during World War II, was also approached by an author, probably E. M. Nathanson, during the 1950s for the story of the Filthy 13. He referred them to Jake McNiece. Nathanson probably did not follow up on this advice for he introduced his book, The Dirty Dozen, published in 1965 with “This story is fiction. I have heard a legend that there might have been men like them, but nowhere in the archives of the United States government, or in its military history did I find it recorded.”

  When approached with the prospect of making a movie about his unit, Jake turned them down. He said it was too soon after the war and the memory of his lost comrades was still fresh. At that time Jake was not in contact with but a handful of the survivors of his company. He did not want to make any “blood money” off the memory of the dead. They told him that they had “The Filthy Thirteen” article written by Arch Whitehouse for True Magazine. If he would not tell them the story, they would use what they had.

  In it, a lieutenant was assigned to a section of twelve undisciplined and rebellious Indians who resented any semblance of authority and had sworn an oath not to bathe until they jumped into Normandy. Each day the lieutenant returned and beat them in a fight until they finally accepted him as their leader. Whipping out a knife they made him a blood brother. As the thirteenth man to join the unit they became known as the Filthy 13.

  The story was mostly a sensationalized work of fiction and Jake knew it. He told them that they could make the movie but could not use the name, the Filthy 13. In 1967, MGM released its version of the story with an all-star cast headed by Lee Marvin. The men were portrayed as condemned criminals given a chance at freedom if they volunteered to train as commandos for a suicide mission on D-Day. The screenwriter borrowed the name, “The Dirty Dozen,” from Whitehouse’s name for the original twelve Indian paratroopers. The storyline reflected little of the real unit’s experiences. Only two events in the movie could be based on fact: the capture of the command post during training maneuvers and the pre-invasion party. The real veterans resented being portrayed as criminals and forever after would have to begin their war stories with, “We were troublemakers but not criminals!” From that time on the survivors of the Filthy 13 had to defend their reputation.

  The only member who did come close to possessing that reputation, however, was Jake McNiece. Jake was well-liked in the company but many believed that his wild ways would lead to his ruin. Everyone was pleased to learn the worst had not happened. Once he gave up his vices, Jake became a born-again Christian and actively involved in the Church of Christ. He applied the same energy to his spiritual life and helping widows as he had to raising hell. This was one area that he would not boast of. Others willingly did that for him. When it came to things he did for other people, he lived by the scripture that one hand should not know what the other was doing. In this way blessings are stored up in heaven. He has been instrumental in starting programs to provide food and transportation for widows. He even became a lay preacher for the Church of Christ in the little town of Kaw. Otherwise, if he was not fishing, he and Martha could be found studying the Scriptures.

  Many believed that Jake changed, but those who have known him best believe not. He is now the same man he always was. He just had three vices—drinking, fighting, and chasing loose women—and he indulged them. After he gave those up, he was the same man but without such distractions. It was his good traits that people admired while his former vices simply made him all the more interesting.

  Most of the other veterans also came home from the war to lead productive lives. Frank Palys, Max Majewski, Shorty Mihlan, Maw Darnell, Jack Agnew, Jack Womer, George Baran, and Chuck Plauda were the original surviving members of the unit prior to the Normandy jump. Palys returned to Chicago and went to work in the steel mills. Majewski became a millionaire during the construction boom in California. Mihlan collected a small fortune in a settlement after a railroad accident. He was never heard from again. Agnew went to college to study law enforcement but ended up working thirty-five years for Western Electric and retired in Pennsylvania. Jack Womer returned to work in the steel mills in the Baltimore area where he retired. The fact that a mortar round landed right next to Jack and did not wound him left a lasting impression on him. He saved the singed left sleeve of his jump jacket and had it framed. Maw Darnell, like many of the paratroopers who were captured during the war, suffered severely from the trauma. He dealt with it through alcohol, like Trigger Gann and so many others. Gann, however, straightened himself out and made a successful career in the army. Plauda also stayed in the army and fought in Korea. He died in a motorcycle accident in Japan.

  Of the replacements, Richard Graham stayed in the army and retired as a command sergeant major. John “Dinty” Mohr returned to farm corn in Iowa.

  Mike Marquez, who ended up fighting with the Filthy 13 in Normandy and Holland, returned to El Paso, Texas. In 1948 he visited Vienna, Austria, and picked up a job with the U.S. Forces Austria as an illustrator. He returned to the United States where he illustrated farm machinery for Guinness Printing Company in Blair, Nebraska. He finally settled back down in his hometown of El Paso as a freelance illustrator until his vision deteriorated.

  Tom Young, who was also associated closely with the Filthy 13, returned to his family’s ranch in Texas. When his parents died, the one surviving brother, who had a metal plate in his head from a wound during the war, and his two sisters did not have any interest in ranching so Tom offered to buy their shares. At that time a number of large businesses were buying up ranches and converting them to resorts for their executives. They wanted to restore them to their rustic images complete with split rail fences. Tom knew how to build them so he won the contracts and hired some work crews. Those contracts enabled him to pay off the ranch.

  Andy Rasmussen, another associate member of the Filthy 13, returned home to become a union carpenter. He spent forty years in construction, most of it in supervision. He worked on such projects as the atomic research buildings at MIT and Harvard, the New York Thruway, and the Massachussets and Connecticut Turnpikes.

  Herb Pierce also stayed in the army. He became an NCO in the under-strength and undertrained 3rd Infantry Division. The state of discipline in the army had deteriorated. His company commander reprimanded him for tipping a recruit out of his bunk who had refused on numerous times to get up and do his morning chores. The commander was more worried about the kid writing his congressman than instilling discipline. When the Korean War broke out, Herb only had three months left on his enlistment. All enlistments were extended and he deployed with the division to Japan in September 1950, and then to the X Corps sector in Korea in November. The Far East Command considered the 3rd Division “worthless” for combat and placed it in reserve.

  When the Chinese attacked at the end of the month, Herb’s unit fell apart. It resembled nothing he had seen with the airborne in World War II. The officers did not stay with their men on the line. As one of the few combat veterans, Herb was abandoned several times on OP duty with only three or four other men while the rest of the company retreated. During the retreat to Hungnam, a Chinese soldier shot Herb in the stomach with a captured Thompson submachine gun. Herb spent nine months recovering in the Valley Forge Army Hospital and was then discharged from the army. He returned to Pennsylvania and worked for NARCO Avionics for twenty-six years and then the Malox Company. After a yea
r or two he had a heart attack and finally retired.

  Robert Cone worked at plumbing for a while but his arm never fully recovered from its wound. He went to work for the post office and retired after twenty-fours years. Although he heard about some 101st reunions, he never attended any. He did not want to think about the war. He did keep in touch with a few men of the 505th Regiment who were prisoners with him. For that reason, no one in the 506th knew he was alive. Not surprisingly, Jake was the only member of his orginal company he could not forget. On June 5, 2002, at the urging of his son, he called Jake.

  First Sergeant Albert Miller retired from the army and became a deputy sheriff in Atlanta, Georgia. He had no better luck on the streets than he did in combat. He was gut-shot in a shoot-out and had to retire from law enforcement.

  Hank Hannah spent about a year in military hospitals recovering from his shoulder wound. The doctors decided to let the bones fuse together instead of inserting an artificial joint. The fused joint resulted in only limited disability and he led an active life. He picked up right where he had left off, returning to teach Agricultural Law at the University of Illinois. He also served as the director of a division of Special Services for War Veterans at the university in the first two years immediately after the war. The division was a degree-granting entity which would accept veterans with a variety of academic backgrounds and help them achieve degrees. This was a time when a multitude of veterans attended college thanks to the GI Bill. Hannah played a key role in helping veterans advance their education.

  Gene Brown returned to his home in Oregon right when Americans began to mine uranium for atomic energy. He moved in on the ground floor and was elected as a representative to the state legislature. While there he helped write most of the state’s mining laws and became an expert on the subject. It did not take him long to realize that he could do better financially out on his own. He became the head of a law firm that employed twelve attorneys.