I was mentored by an amazing man who was a Milker of Cows
March 8, 2025March 9, 1945 — At the Regimental Officers Dance Phil is personally congratulated by General O’Daniel who calls him a helluva fighting man
At an awards ceremony, 3rd Infantry Division commander, General John W. O’Daniel. paid homage to Phil, saying, “To a helluva fighting man.” Then he smiled and leaned forward. “And I’ll soon find out if you can dance,” he whispered. Phil had no idea what the general meant until he received a coveted and rare invitation to the Regimental Officers Dance in Nancy on March 9.[1]
Division Commander Major General O’Daniel and his staff were attending the dance, along with Regimental Commander Colonel Lionel McGarr and his battalion staff.
During dinner, Phil sat around a table with several junior officers at the back of the room. After the dessert dishes were cleared, many of them danced with nurses from the American hospital to a live band.
While Phil was sipping a drink, a senior officer walked over to him. “You’re wanted at the head table,” he said in a commanding tone.
Phil followed the officer to the table where General O’Daniel and Colonel McGarr were in deep conversation, each with a drink in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. Upon seeing him approach, McGarr stood. “Lieutenant Larimore,” he said, nodding at the general, “you’ve met General O’Daniel.”
The general put down his cigar, stood, and shook Phil’s hand. “Have a seat, Lieutenant.”
Phil pulled up a chair.
“Get the man a drink and one of my cigars,” the general commanded one of his staff colonels. Then he looked at Phil. “How many medals have I pinned on you so far, young man?”
Phil felt color come to his face and his head drop a bit.
“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” the general said. “No brag, just fact. I’m told it’s a Silver, two Bronzes, and two Purples. Is that correct?”
Phil nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Like I said early when I pinned them on you, you’re a helluva fighting man.”
“Just turned twenty years old, and last week I promoted him to company commander, General,” McGarr interjected. “Youngest graduate out of Benning’s OCS. Youngest officer in the Army at the time. Bright future, I’d say.”
The general nodded, taking a deep puff off his cigar. “But more importantly, Lieutenant, McGarr tells me you’re an equestrian.”
Once again, Phil nodded and kept quiet.
“Damn proud of your work,” the general continued. “Herding up all those horses around Montélimar. Fabulous. Your mule work on Anzio and in the Vosges. Brilliant stuff. Not only saved who knows how many lives of my men, but cost Germans their lives. I like that.”
The general turned reflective. “When I was a newly commissioned officer, I learned to ride at the Reserve Officers Training Camp at Fort Myer. The horses there are magnificent, and the stables are top tier. Loved every minute on the back of a horse. After I shipped out for overseas duty in 1918, I served on the Western Front as part of the American Expeditionary Force, commanded by General John Pershing. I got to ride a couple of times with him once I became a company commander. He had his personal horse, Kidron, over there, and rode him during our victory parade in Paris.”
The general took another puff and watched the smoke rings he blew rise to the ceiling. “Tell me about your interest in the noble beast, son.”
Phil shared briefly about riding as a boy, meeting the Lipizzaners, fox hunting at Fort Benning, learning about draft horses in Nebraska, his experience in French Morocco with the moukhalas and lab al baroud, and dressage in Naples.
O’Daniel shook his head and looked at Phil directly. “When this damn war ends,” he said, “you and I need to get together at a redoubt or hunt club and ride.”
“I would like that, sir,” Phil quickly assented.
Sensing his time with the senior officers was coming to an end, Phil leaned his head toward the dance floor. “If you don’t mind, sirs, there’s a pretty little nurse waiting for a dance.”
O’Daniel threw his head back again, laughing. “I told you I’d be finding out if you can dance. You’re dismissed, Lieutenant. Enjoy your night! That’s a direct order.”[2]
~~~~~
[1] Larimore, At First Light, 207-208.
[2] Ibid, 208-209.
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