A WWII reunion, reminder of freedom’s cost

For these World War II veterans, their much-anticipated weekend commenced with an old, favorite song of theirs:

What do you do in the infantry?

It’s easy enough to tell

They put a pack on your back

And send you straight to hell!

There’s nothing in the world

That I would rather be

Than just a buck private

In the 95th Infantry!

PFC Ceo Bauer, a WWII veteran of the 95th Infantry Division, known as the “Iron Men of Metz,” serenaded the crowd with those words. His rendition of that old marching song was his way of preparing those gathered to honor his comrades in a gathering at Fort Benning, where the “Iron Men” dedicated a monument to their accomplishments.

And what accomplishments they were.

These old infantrymen – 14 of them came to Fort Benning for the weekend – were part of Gen. George Patton’s Third Army. They fought to liberate the fortress city of Metz near the French-German border, one of the bloodier engagements of the war in late 1944. The 95th would go into Germany and fight until the war in Europe ended.

And so for the 66th time, they gathered to share memories and honor their fallen brothers.

“We know the cost of preserving freedom, liberty, democracy and human rights for our world’s people,” Bauer said. “This monument documents some of this cost.”

They placed their monument among dozens of others at the National Infantry Museum’s Walk of Honor.

“Benning,” as they call it, holds a special place in their hearts because many of them passed through for training before being loaded on a ship to Europe.

I joined them because several of them helped me in my pursuit of the tale of another “Iron Man” – Eddie Sessions of Carrollton.

Published in The Atlanta Journal-Constitution in June 2013, “The Replacement Soldier” told of his experience as a “replacement,” a young infantryman sent to the front to take the place of the dead and wounded. Most replacements were unprepared for combat; many died within a few days. But Eddie survived the intense fighting near Metz, France, and was later wounded. He died in March 2014.

Earlier this year, we published a follow-up story, “The Liberator’s Widow,” which highlighted his wife’s journey back to Metz. On that trip, Shirley Sessions bonded with the veterans of the 95th and their families, as she visited places where her husband fought, but never wanted to return.

She also traveled to Fort Benning for the weekend’s festivities.

It was a busy weekend full of activity, especially when you consider that these veterans are in their 90s. They were joined by family members who share their pride in their service.

And nowhere was that pride more present than at the monument dedication. After the ceremony concluded with “Taps,” the veterans and their families lined up to take pictures before the impressive granite structure topped by a unique American eagle that mimics the monument Metz citizens dedicated about 25 years ago in their city.

The comradery continued through the weekend. Among the highlights: the Saturday night banquet. As a singer performed songs from the 1940s, some of the veterans, who stood unsteadily that morning, cast aside their caution and danced. Bauer earlier in the day expressed worry about losing his cane, but he left it behind, marched to Shirley’s table and guided her onto the dance floor. He looked like that young private of more than 70 years ago as they glided about.

Watching these men as they continue to live life to the fullest was inspiring. At this time of fear in our world, they remind us of how much for which we have to be thankful, a sentiment well worth noting this holiday weekend.

In conversations with them, you learn that it was only later, after the battles, that they realized they saved our world. At the time, they just did their jobs. As they were asked to. As they saw it.

By their actions and attitudes, they don’t expect us to go through what they did. They wouldn’t wish that on anyone. They want us to simply enjoy and respect the world they preserved for us.

The weekend concluded with the group’s traditional “Metz Hour.” It’s a longstanding tradition that includes a talk by one of the 95th’s own.

This time it was Edwin Kolodziej, a staff sergeant who earned the Silver Star and the Bronze Star and who served in combat for 145 days – 104 of them continuously. He went on to be a lawyer in New Jersey.

“We were sent to basic training as boys believing in glory,” he said. “We only became men during our first time under enemy fire.”

Kolodziej found a way to inject some humor in the somber occasion, as these veterans always do.

It seems that he was walking behind the lines when he bumped into Patton.

He introduced himself.

“I’m here to decorate you,” Patton said. “By the way, you’re out of uniform.”

Kolodziej was wearing a polka-dot scarf, not something the Army would issue. He told the general that his mother had given him the scarf when he left home.

Her instructions: “Wear it and bring it back.”

So he told Patton: “I’m wearing it.” Thus ended the conversation.

After Kolodziej’s talk, the veterans lit two candles, one for those who died in the war, the other for those who died since the last reunion.

And again, an old, favorite song, this one to conclude the weekend:

Nights are long since you went away

I think about you all through the day

My buddy, my buddy

Nobody quite so true

Miss your voice, the touch of your hand

Just long to know that you understand

My buddy, my buddy

Your buddy misses you

Your buddy misses you, yes I do.