The Day General Patton Came To Lunch

  It was one of those fortunes of war that brought me to KP duty in the officer’s mess the day that Gen. George Patton decided to come to lunch.

  We were in the battle scarred town of Saarlautern on the French/German border which we had just wrested from the hated enemy.  Our unit had completed a somewhat ingenious maneuver that had outfoxed the enemy and captured a bridge across the Saar River.

  The so-called “genius” behind it all was out regimental commander, Col. Robert Bacon, who looked every inch the part. A rugged, macho regular army type, whose adult life apparently had been dedicated to what we had just achieved.

  The word came down from Third Army headquarters that Gen. Patton had heard about our end around play and was mightily impressed.  He had decided to pay us a visit the next day.

     You can imagine the hysteria. Jim Boyd, our mess sergeant was frantic. “There’s nothing left in this place. We can’t even feed the non-coms." He complained bitterly. 

  Our unit leader, Lt. Conolly, from New York began spitting out ideas that would satisfy the ego and needs of Sgt. Bacon and charm our distinguished visitor.

  “Weidenthal, Spinelli, Hogshead. You’re on KP. I want you guys to go out in the neighborhood, at least what’s left of it. And find the best china, the best silverware, the best linen around.  This used to be a pretty upscale place.  I know you guys can do it,” he said with a cool confident tone in his voice.” 

“See if you can find some bottles of Rhine Riesling. That’s what the general likes, I hear.”                   

   To our surprise we found what we looking for rather quickly in what was left of these suburban houses. The best china, the famed Soligen steel dinnerware, produced in the area. In one house I saw and elderly woman looked very much like my grandmother who had died the year before.  She just sat there immobilized as we pillaged her fine tableware. I personally felt uncomfortable, even in the heat of battle, so to speak. Instinctively I wanted to assure her that we would bring it all back after lunch. Then I remembered we were at war.  Sadly there was no time for time for sentimentality in the heat of battle.

  We hurried back to regimental headquarters with our plunder, and set a table fit for a king.  (Sgt. Boyd had found some elegant delicacies, somehow, somewhere. I never found out. I didn’t ask and he didn’t tell.)

  Early the next morning word came down that Patton was on his way. In less that an hour there he was, riding in an open jeep with an aide at his side and a Master Sergeant gripping a 50 caliber machine gun mounted on the back seat of the Jeep.

  There was Patton. The guy who had talked back to Eisenhower, had the Germans on the run. 
    No sounding of trumpets, no special background music. Just Patton looking for all the world like he was supposed to look. The helmet with the three silver stars, the rugged  face, the pearl handled pistol. The jacket, the boots. 

  After he arrived Spinnelli, Hendrick and I slipped downstairs to make sure that lunch was ready. The silver, the china, the linens, and the feast...It was magnificent. Visions of the Congressional Medal of Honor, or at least the Silver Star, danced though my brain.

  About an hour or so later we heard an approach. The great man walked into the room. “Ten shun!”, someone one shouted and we all saluted stiffly.

    He was alone. He gazed at us and the finely set table, paused for a minute. It was quiet.

  “What a fucking way to fight a war!”, He barked with a light smile on his face.

  There was total silence. Just three of us, not knowing what to do or say. In moments, thank goodness Col Bacon burst into the room. “Shall we sit down and eat?” he said to his leader.

  “Shit, why not?!”, said the general. They drank a toast to victory with the very best German Riesling, and proceeded to eat and talk war talk.  We backed out quietly.

   AND THAT WAS IT. No Medal of Honor, no Silver Star. Not even a Good Conduct Ribbon.