On January 4, 1945, Phil wrote to his mother, “Spent my birthday on the line in combat. Don’t seem like I am any older than before. But I don’t think I could feel much older.”[1]

Dad’s birthday party occurred on Thursday, January 4, 1945. The celebratory occasion being Phil’s twentieth birthday.

After hitting the Anzio Beachhead on February 20, 1944, and fighting for nearly eleven grueling months since hitting the Anzio beachhead on February 20, 1944 [actually, 10 months and 13 days, or 45 weeks and 4 days], the passage of time seemed like an eternity to him.[2]

He was no longer a teenager fighting a war. Phil shared this description of his birthday party with his mom:

Don’t seem like I am any older than before. But I don’t think I could feel much older. At least I no longer have to use a cane to walk with.

During lunch, one of the mess sergeants came out with a large cake decorated with twenty candles of various sizes. The men took up the “Happy Birthday” song with robust voices. It was all I could do to keep back the tears of gratitude.

The cake was crude but delicious. They called me the “Old Man,” but the real Old Man gave me a carton of Lucky Strikes.[1]

The real Old Man happened to be Colonel McGarr, who led a toast in Phil’s honor. The most popular brand of cigarettes among the men was Lucky Strike, followed by Camel. In the foxholes, the men smoked Pall Malls, Raleighs, or Chelseas.[2]

Phil added:

Yes, we’re getting our cigarettes all right. In combat, we are given one package per day, per man in the company. Some men don’t smoke so it means the officers get all they want most of the time. When we are out of the line in the rear areas, we buy them at 5¢ per package and we can buy all we want. I wish I could send you some![1]

Two days later, in a brief ceremony at the division command post, Major General O’Daniel, with Colonel McGarr at his side, pinned the Bronze Star with Valor and the Oak Leaf Cluster—indicating it was his second Bronze Star award—on Phil’s chest for his heroic actions at the Ognon River crossing in September. After they saluted each other, McGarr smiled. “You’re a hell of a fighting machine, Lieutenant! I’m glad you’re on our side!”[2]

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[1] Handwritten Letter. Post marked January 8, 1945. Handwritten note on the envelope says, “Recd Feb 21 – 1945.” Although another stamp on the envelope says “Memphis, Tenn. De Soto Sta. Mar 21, 1945.”

[2] Larimore, At First Light, 179-180.

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