Page 18 - Desert Lightning News October 2015

18 October 2, 2015
The struggle of an imprisoned warrior
Airman 1st Class Ashley N. Steffen “I reached back and they were gone, I lost
355th Fighter Wing Public Affairs Gargano says with a smile recounting his mis-
DAVIS MONTHAN AIR FORCE BASE,
Ariz. -- Sweat and water mingled in dripping
beads, caressing the cheeks of muddied Sol-
diers in a land rotting with war.
It was early in the morning; the world was
still black with a sleeping sun. In anticipation,
U.S. Army Pvt. Tony Gargano, in Fox Com-
pany, waited to launch a secret attack on the
German soldier’s front line.
Not all were willing to fight, for some the
war had taken its toll on their minds and bod-
ies; leading to acts of desperation to get out
of battle.
“One of the guys shot himself in the foot, he
didn’t want to go,” Gargano described.
The man with a fresh limp was taken off
to medical while everyone buzzed with emo-
tions for the approaching battle.
They started to move forward as the U.S.
Army Air Corps flew overhead dropping
flares to expose the enemy’s front line. Hol-
lywood style spot lights pointed towards the
German troops in hopes of blinding them in
combat.
“The Germans knew we were there, they
put artillery on us,” Gargano said. “Boy they
were really accurate. The first aid man, Willy,
a good friend of mine said, ‘Tony you got to
help me, these guys are bad.’ One guy had his
hip off, another was dead.”
The mêlée roared on around Gargano as he
helped identify the living from the dead.
Up ahead the battle pressed forward, in the
disarray of artillery, explosions sounded.
The company’s leaders, Capt. Earl E. Swan-
son stepped on a landmine. Lt. Robert W.
Rankin went after his comrade and suffered
the same fate; leaving Fox Company without
an officer in charge in the midst of combat.
The sun rose over the horizon blessing
Gargano with morning light to see. With his
sight he stepped in foot prints like stepping
stones leading him across a meadow of death.
“Now it was my turn to walk across the
mine field,” Gargano said. “I could see the foot
prints of the guy in front of me; I would step
in his prints and stop. Any minute I was ready
for an explosion.”
For Gargano, the explosion never came,
machine gun fire opened up forcing him to
hit the ground and crawl the remainder of the
field to a stone wall encircled church.
Through the crawl Gargano reached back
for his grenades. His hands pressed against
his garments in search for what was not there.
He had lost them in the pandemonium.
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(U.S. Air Force photo by Airman 1st Class Ashley N. Steffen)
them crawling. I hoped I didn’t pull the pins.”
U.S. Army Pvt. Tony Gargano, World War II prisoner of war,
take. points to a family member in his photo album at his residence
in Tucson, Sept. 10. Gargano was one of six men in his family
In view was a church resting in a small vil- to serve during WWII.
lage with only one street; inside the church
was shelter for Gargano, a handful of other 21 potatoes,” He said. “I ate well for two or
Soldiers and German prisoners hiding from three days.”
the rain of bullets.
They marched on through German fields
The fight had turned; Gargano and the other tilled by artillery and explosives; through lev-
Soldiers were enclosed by relentless Germans. eled villages and towns.
The Germans fired making it rain copper and
steal ammunition on the small-town church. Pushed into a large barn the Soldiers wait-
ed for their German captors to give direction,
The Soldiers who were held down in the but they never came. A lone Soldier came into
church had attempted to send a sign of surren- the barn announcing the Germans wanted to
der, “We sent one German prisoner out with a kill their hostages earning him a beating from
white flag. They shot him.” Gargano said. one of the prisoners. They walked out of the
barn expecting to see the Germans prepared
Marking his disbelief when their surrender was and waiting. They were nowhere to be seen,
no longer an option. Quickly finding an available the captured men were abandoned.
field of fire, they set up preparing for the worst.
“There was a road running alongside the
Guns rested on the cemetery wall scanning barn and here comes our guys, recon outfit,
the field for any hostile targets, as time pressed in two armored vehicles and a jeep with a ma-
they attempted their escape from their tempo- chine gun,” Gargano said. “They knew about
rary sanctuary, and ran down a hill. us and I think they were purposefully break-
ing through the German lines to get at us.”
“I don’t know if it was a tank or artillery,
but we turned to go downhill away from it. As The freedom washed over the men in a
we made our way there was the Germans with wave of pure relief.
a four barrel machine gun, the kind they used
to shoo low flying aircraft,” Gargano said. “I couldn’t believe it,” He repeated. “I
“We were running so fast down that hill as couldn’t believe it, I felt free, like a big stone
they were coming up we couldn’t have turned was lifted off my chest.”
around to head back up without them shoot-
ing the hell out of us. We’d be dead. So we Tony Gargano’s POW memorabilia is going
gave up.” to be displayed at a POW/MIA Remembrance
Ceremony at the Pima Air and Space Museum
The Germans took away his freedom; that located at 6000 E Valencia Road, Tucson, Sept.
was the day Tony Gargano became a Prisoner 18, at 3 p.m. This is a free event and open to
of War. the public.
“I was surprised at how many of our guys
were captured,” Gargano said softly. “It was
disappointing.”
Living conditions were harsh within the
walls that held men of war; lice crawled in
forests of hair and over plains of skin of the
captured Soldiers. Food was presented once a
day and consisted of potato peels mingled and
floated with meager vegetables, paired with a
piece of bread.
“We marched for thirty days,” Gargano said.
“On the way we had to beg for food.”
While Gargano was lined up along the
roadside for a head count with other POWs; a
horse drawn wagon bumped and jostled down
the road passing the line of men. In the back
of the wagon was a mountain of potatoes.
“As soon as the wagon came by me,” Gar-
gano raised his voice in excitement over
the memory. “I jumped on that wagon and I
grabbed potatoes, stuffed them in my shirt.
I still remember how many I got to this day;