American Valor Quarterly Issue 1 - Winter 2007 | Page 8

me before we jumped in Normandy, “Don’t turn your back gave me an old baby carriage. So there I am pushing a baby
on a Frenchman.” That was good advice. A lot of them carriage with ammo, weapons, and supplies. As I’m pushing
liked the Germans a little too much.
it through the streets, crowded with people partying and
singing, my mind went to South Philly. Four blocks from
As we went through the crowds, I piled a bunch of green where we lived was the Delaware River. Ships would bring
apples in my pockets, and hoped I didn’t accidentally throw coal and the coal would be transferred to trains that ran
one at a kraut instead of a grenade. You’re not going to along Delaware Avenue. My family was poor, and my
stop a Nazi with a piece of fruit.
mother would send my three brothers and I down to
Delaware Avenue with my sister’s baby carriage to pick up
Things were fairly quiet moving toward the bridge at any stray pieces of coal we could find. It meant we’d have
Wilhelmina. Just as we were about a half-mile in front of heat from the coal stove. We’d fill the carriage with the coal
the bridge, the krauts woke up from their little nap. A and push it home. If there was snow on the ground, we
machine gun and German 88 fired at us. One of the shells used a sled. This wasn’t easy. There was a mean railroad
hit a big department store window, and the impact threw dick we called Duckfeet. Everyone in South Philly has a
Babe across the street, knocked him out. He was shook the nickname and this man walked like a duck. He wouldn’t
hell up, that’s all. Then just before we got to the bridge— hesitate to shoot anyone he caught stealing coal. I don’t
bam!—it blew up right in our puss. Big chunks
know if he’d have shot us four little kids, but
of debris flew everywhere. We it the dirt and
we were scared of him. Pushing the stroller
fired back at them. Nobody got badly hurt.
down the streets of Eindhoven, I wondered
Damn krauts were waiting for us. The
what mean old Duckfeet would have done
problem was, the planes dropped us eight
to the krauts if he was so quick to shoot
miles away. Too much time passed by the
someone pocketing coal. Believe me, I would
time we jumped, got together, got through
have given anything at that moment to be
the crowds, and got to the first bridge. If they
back in Philly with Duckfeet.
dropped us right on it, we would have beat
the Germans there. But that’s hindsight, kid.
Popeye Wynn threw his weapons in my baby
carriage. I said, “You do the pushing then.” I
Babe and the other machine gunners laid
picked up my machine gun and hoisted it over
down cover fire and pushed back the
my shoulder and gave him the carriage.
Germans. Some of the men tried to get a
makeshift bridge up so we could cross the
Bill: The next morning, we marched
canal. We got resourceful, tore down barn “Babe” Heffron during World War II. through pastures and fields into Eindhoven.
doors, whatever we could find heavy enough to get everyone Now we thought Son was a celebration, but Eindhoven
across. Later, the engineers came, they built something was a sight to behold. The streets were so crowded we could
stronger to get the tanks over.
barely push our way through. It was one giant party. Civilians
grabbing and kissing us, giving us food and beer. One woman
Babe: We spent the night in Son, sleeping on the ground. was shoving an autograph book in our faces, saying “Sign,
You made a hole for yourself and stayed there. In the sign!” We had a war to fight and she’s looking for autographs!
morning we had orders to move out and take Eindhoven. We scribbled in her book “John Wayne,” “Cary Grant,”
As we marched, everyone was spread out. You always spread “Kilroy,” “The Andrews Sisters.” We just wanted to get the
out. If you bunched up, and an 88 came in, it would take hell away from her.
everyone out at once. Lt. Bob Brewer walked ahead of us
as lead scout, when suddenly sniper fire came from a church You know why the Dutch were so aggressively friendly
and hit him right in the throat. We had to keep advancing. toward us? I mean aggressive. It’s because they never knew
Outside Eindhoven, we had to regroup, because we lost what it was to be occupied. They weren’t in World War I.
some men and we lost Brewer (he ended up surviving), a They were a peaceful people, always neutral. After five years
lieutenant. So we sat on the steps at St. Katrina’s Church of oppression, we came and liberated them. They were so
for an hour before moving out again.
grateful. One Dutchman said to us, “Can you define
freedom? You can’t,” he said. “Because you don’t know
Before we jumped our orders upon landing were to find any what freedom is until you lose it.” I’ll never forget that.
thing with wheels to help carry our supplies. A Dutch woman Babe was there, too, when he said it.
American Valor Quarterly - Winter, 2007/08 - 8