Never Anticipate the Command

Never Anticipate the Command

During her childhood, Lee Summers came to realize what a special father she had in Henry Sonnenfeld, a former US Marine. He instilled discipline and commitment in her, and he taught her about sacrifice, heroism, and patriotism. Best of all, he had wonderful bedtime stories. Never Anticipate the Command is the first in a series to share Henry's remarkable stories of being a US Marine during World War II and the Korean War. As told through his daughter, Henry reveals how, as a young man from New Jersey, he enlisted in the US Marine Corps after Pearl Harbor and fought the Japanese in the brutal Pacific campaign. Henry relates those first few harrowing days as a marine and the grueling training regimen on Parris Island. With remarkably vivid details, he recounts life on the island of Bougainville; tells the tale of his island pet, a womp-cat named Bougie Sam; and describes watching Pappy Boyington's Black Sheep Squadron perform. Never Anticipate the Command recalls an era when men rose to action to protect their country. It shows how one man in particular served God, his country, and his family-in that order. From New Jersey, spent childhood at the ocean. With brother Hank, musical prodigy, studied piano, composition, psychology and education at College and Grad School. Cared for both parents, sister in law & Hank, respectively, who died from ALS, Heart failure, paralysis & Cancer. Cared for nephews following mom's accident. A Writer of music, stories and studied yoga since age 9. Am divorced. Never Anticipate The Command By Lee Summers iUniverse, Inc. Copyright © 2011 Lee Summers All right reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4620-6290-4 Chapter One 1943 If you threw a dart at a map in the dark while blindfolded and drunk, chances are, the mark you hit would have made for a better destination than Bougainville Island in 1943. The island weather was indescribably horrible! It rained every day for weeks straight—and not soft, gentle rain. It came down in torrents, pouring easily as Morton's salt. There wasn't a dry place to be had. The more it rained, the muddier the area became, until all you could see was a sea of rippling mud. Everywhere you walked, you were knee-deep in squishy, squashy mud. Our dungarees became heavy, and soggy cakes of mud hung on us like glue. Foxholes looked like bathtubs, always filled with water. Over 50 percent of the trucks were all bogged down in mud. These were replaced by tractors which pulled light trailer carts. These tractors sometimes took hours to go just a few miles. It was the only means of moving supplies to the front lines, however tedious. But if the rain and mud hampered the marines, it must have frustrated the hell out of the Japs! Although they had forty-five thousand troops on this rock, they couldn't move the big guns through the mud. However, they did have a few 77s in action, which proved to be more harassing than effective. In fact, sometimes it was downright amusing! The Japs were zeroed in on a corned beef pile and hit it with amazing accuracy. The marines were never too keen on corned beef and chanted, "Hit it again! Hit it again, you bastards!" and the Japs complied for the rest of the night. During this rainy spell, Captain Cantella received orders from superiors to move emergency rations "C" and "K" to an area called "Evansville." This was an advanced area, practically on the front line. It was enemy territory. The object was to replenish the frontline troops with food supplies in case of an emergency. A working party from Dump #2 loaded a tractor-trailer cart with twenty-five cases of K rations and twenty-five cases of C rations. A group of four men, including Hank and the captain, left Dump #2 at approximately 1300 hours. It was raining like hell, and the roads were in terrible shape. The tractor was operating in about two or three feet of mud. Everywhere you looked, vehicles were abandoned. Everything was stuck in the mud. The tractor driver had difficulty getting around some of the trucks, and boy, it was time-consuming! It took for-fucking-ever! After a while, the road started to narrow down until it became only a trail. It was called the "Numa Numa trail." The men sat on top of the boxes in the trailer cart. The captain rode on the tractor. Everyone was taking in the scenery—that is, if you could call it scenery! The trees were as thick as crabgrass, and you couldn't see five feet off the road. Green foliage blanketed the trees in all shapes and sizes. Small patches of fog created an eerie, spooky atmosphere. Even the noise of the tractor was swallowed up by its vastness. Hank sat there in silence. All he could think was, What a hellhole this rock is . It had a surf as treacherous as a snake. They had lost Higgins boats to the terrain and the troops on them to strafings. Some men got hit climbing down the nets and fell into the boats with the packs still on their backs. His ship, the Crescent City , lost practically every Higgins boa