Tanker's Destiny

By Frederick L. Ridgway

In the scope of human history nothing stands out like warfare. One nation trying to impose its ideology, political system, or religious beliefs on another. General George Patton said, next to war, all other forms of human endeavor pale in insignificance. For those who have experienced war and survived it, the experience seems to overshadow the other normal highlights of a well lived life. I have found this true in the life of my father and the many veterans I interviewed as I researched this book. A farm boy, a painter, a gas station attendant, ordinary men transported to another continent and thrust into a life and death struggle for the cause of freedom.

In war the best and worst of mans nature are exhibited. This is a story of the birth of faith and Gods protection set against the backdrop of World War II. You will follow one soldiers odyssey from home in the Midwest to the end of the war on the Elbe River in Germany. You will experience war from a Sherman tankers perspective facing the seasoned Panzer division of Hitlers armies. These are real combat stories with fictional elements added to fill in the details. This is my fathers story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496923349

Frederick L. Ridgway

. Frederick Lee Ridgway, missionary/evangelist, was born January 4, 1950 in Des Moines, Iowa. He graduated from Valley High School in West Des Moines in 1968 and Des Moines Area Community College in 1971. Fred met the love of his life, Helen, while attending Chesterfield Christian Church where his father, Derald, was the Pastor. They were married April 25, 1969. Helen and Fred had two daughters, Nicol and Angela. Fred was a carpenter contractor (Ridgway Construction) for thirty years. On October 9, 1991, Fred and Helen started a corporation which was certified through the state of Iowa. The corporation was called “Let There Be Light”. This was the starting of their evangelistic work for the Lord. On April 23, 1996, Fred received his credentials through the General Council of the Assemblies of God. Fred spent the next twenty-three years serving the Lord as an Evangelist/Missionary, and did missionary work part time in Eastern Europe, Philippines, and Central America. Fred and Helen also had a prison ministry for thirteen years and served as interim pastor in three different churches. Fred died on November 7, 2013, at the age of 63.

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© 2014 Frederick L. Ridgway. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 07/14/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-2335-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-2334-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014912575

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CONTENTS

Preface

Chapter 1 Saying Good-Bye

Chapter 2 Going To War

Chapter 3 First Combat

Chapter 4 Break From Battle

Chapter 5 Push To The Rhine

Chapter 6 Into Cologne

Chapter 7 Across The Rhine

Chapter 8 The Longest Drive

Chapter 9 Paderborn

Chapter 10 East Into The Mountains

Chapter 11 Final Drive

Chapter 12 Traveling Companion

Epilogue

About The Author

PREFACE

In the scope of human history nothing stands out like warfare. One nation trying to impose it’s ideology, political system, or religious beliefs on another. General George Patton said, next to war, all other forms of human endeavor pale in insignificance.

For those who have experienced war and survived it, the experience seems to over shadow the other normal highlights of a well lived life. I have found this true in the life of my father and the many veterans I interviewed as I researched this book. A farm boy, a painter, a gas station attendant, ordinary men transported to another continent and thrust into a life and death struggle for the cause of freedom.

In war the best and worst of man’s nature are exhibited. This is a story of the birth of faith and God’s protection set against the backdrop of World War II. You will follow one soldier’s odyssey from home in the Midwest to the end of the war on the Elbe River in Germany. You will experience war from a Sherman tanker’s perspective facing the seasoned Panzer divisions of Hitler’s armies. These are real combat stories with fictional elements added to fill in the details. This is my father’s story.

CHAPTER 1

SAYING GOOD-BYE

In 1944, the world had entered into a crisis. The imperial actions of Japan and Germany had filled the world with alarm. Their desire to extend their territorial authority to other nations by force demanded either a decision of neutrality or involvement in the conflict. Japan had spread its empire through Asia and the South Pacific Islands, not for the purpose of ideology, but for acquiring territory, wealth, and power. Germany, on the other hand, driven by the ideology of a supreme race, had occupied much of Central Europe.

The United States of America was not interested in entering into the fray, but was content to live within its secure borders. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness was the desire of the American people, not expanding its land or people by aggression. America had vast lands with untapped natural resources. Japan, on the other hand, had neither. America had an ideology that tried to treat all men equal. Germany, on the other hand, assumed their superiority over all others. America was certainly living under the blessings of the Almighty while so many, in other parts of the world, were suffering in so many unimaginable ways.

As our story begins in 1944, the United States had been drawn into this world war by the bombing of our Pacific fleet in Pearl Harbor and the declaration of war against the United States by Adolph Hitler. We were driving the Japanese out of the Pacific Islands one island at a time, and the Germans were slowly being driven back towards their own borders by the allied forces. Our opening scene finds us in rural southern Iowa, in the center of the United States. A setting so serene and peaceful, so ideal where the greatest concern was the rainfall totals, the price of corn and hogs, and the next social event on the church calendar. Even with the rationing brought on by the war, food was abundant as most was produced individually. The pursuit of happiness was certainly in the reach of all who lived there.

Florence, Derald hollered. We’ve got to go! Derald was prone to raising his voice when nervous or agitated. This trait came to him from his mother. The tension and anxiety of leaving for the war tomorrow was building under the surface and was hard to contain. As he waited for his wife to come out of her parents’ home, his eyes looked out over the picked cornfields surrounded by the wooded hillsides. This was a favorite hunting ground of his. Today, in fact, was the perfect day to hunt. The mid November sun was mildly warm and the light it produced enhanced the picked corn stalks with a yellow glow. The air was crisp and dry, but not cold, with a freshness that makes breathing a pleasure. He could only wonder at how many pheasants foraged in among the stalks or the covey of quail that congregated in the waste corners and thickets at the edge of the fields.

The daydream was interrupted with the slam of the screen door on the old farmhouse. Derald turned to see his wife Florence standing on the porch. Slender and straight in frame, she paid every attention to her appearance. Make-up, hair, and clothing were like a model stepping off the cover of the latest McCall’s magazine. She would never present herself in public unkempt, let alone on this, the last full day with her husband.

Well, I’m ready to go, she said.

Mom and dad are expecting us for dinner, so we should get started, Derald replied. The drive back to Des Moines would take about two hours barring the unforeseen, and Derald was anxious to get started.

The screen door opened again and Hattie and Albert, Florence’s parents joined her on the porch. They were simple in dress and appearance, a hard working farm couple who knew the meaning of a day’s work. Albert wore bib overalls; his face was weathered, yet snow white above the line of his hat. His forearms were oversized from throwing hay and his other duties on the farm. Hattie, on the other hand, was slight yet strong in spirit, with blue eyes that were at once both penetrating and accepting. Her beauty, now fading with age, could still be seen in her striking features and a strong resemblance could be seen between her and Florence.

Derald, you’re not leaving without giving me a hug, Hattie admonished him. She knew he was not one who was partial to hugging or displays of emotion, so she goaded him a little to lighten the moment. He ascended the short flight of stairs and stood before his mother-in-law, waiting for the expected hug. Instead, Hattie grasped him by his shoulders at arms length and said, You watch out for yourself; we want you back. We will be praying every day that God will watch over you and protect you. Hattie was one of those rare people who spoke with such confidence about God, that it instilled faith in those who heard her. Derald was not like her. Not being a man of faith, he did not understand about providence or prayer, yet he found comfort in her words. She gave him a hug and then stepped back to mop the tears that had formed in her eyes. Albert stepped up with his hand extended and gave Derald a lingering handshake that was strong, yet affectionate. I’m sure you’ll make us proud and you’ll do right well by this country, Albert said as he looked Derald in the eyes.

While good-byes were being exchanged on the front porch, four-year-old John was chasing chickens around the yard with a stick. He was oblivious to the gravity of the moment, but decided to break off the attack long enough to join his family on the porch. Derald bent down and said to John, Mom and dad are going to visit grandpa and grandma tonight in Des Moines. You can stay here and play on the farm and we’ll see you tomorrow. That was fine with John because there was so much to explore and do there that he was eager to get started. Little did he know that this would be his home for the next year and a half.

Separation was the specter that loomed over Florence and Derald as they began their trip to Des Moines. They knew their last day together would come, but it always seemed so distant. Maybe it would never come, they hoped. Nevertheless, that day had come and they had to face it.

The first part of the trip was spent in silence until Derald finally spoke up. I’m so glad that you and John will be with your parents while I’m gone. At least I won’t have to worry about you being taken care of. No matter how this turns out, it’ll be a good place to be. Derald was always very matter of fact about life, but Florence was not. She was an idealist who framed life through a narrow window that excluded imperfections. To think that her husband would never return to her was less than the ideal she expected out of life.

I wish you wouldn’t talk that way, honey. You have to come home. John and I need you and I can’t imagine life without you, she said.

Honey, I’ll do everything I can to get back. You can be sure of that. I’m still glad you’re staying in Lucas with your parents. It’ll make it easier for me knowing you’re well taken care of, Derald said as he tried to reassure her.

Now, I don’t want to talk that way anymore today. Let’s talk about what we’ll do when you get home. I’d like to live in West Des Moines around your family. Maybe your brothers could build us a house and John could have a brother and sister some day, she said.

The idea she proposed sounded very appealing to Derald. To settle down in West Des Moines and live an ordinary, mundane life now seemed like a distant dream to him. He thought about the thousands already dead in this conflict and with them, their dreams, their future children, and their potential contributions to society were gone. Being very practical, he knew there was a good chance he would never realize that dream.

Derald and Florence arrived at his parent’s house before dinner was ready. They walked in the front door with an overnight bag prepared to stay the night with them. This was home for Derald. It was the house he was raised in and it felt warm and comfortable to be there again. His father was sitting in his overstuffed chair listening to the radio while his mother busied herself in the kitchen.

Derald, is that you? Lilly exclaimed. Derald’s mother had a shrill voice that could wake the dead. It was well suited for calling children in from play or livestock from the field. She was a rugged woman who had raised four children through the depression and knew the meaning of sacrifice. Derald’s father, on the other hand, was a quiet and gentle man. He was a carpenter by trade, specializing in cabinet building.

Hi dad, Derald said affectionately to his father. Mother, what are you cooking in there?

Fried chicken and cherry cobbler for dessert, was the reply from the kitchen.

Derald sat down in a chair next to his father while Florence went into the kitchen to help with dinner. Derald opened the conversation with his father about their favorite subject.

Opening day of pheasant season is this Saturday. I sure hate to miss it, Derald said.

There’ll be many more for you once you’re home again. I don’t think this war will last much longer, Selby said, as he stared straight ahead. Deep down, Derald wanted to talk to his father about his fear and anxiety. He wanted to say Dad I’m afraid. I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again. but his fears could not be allowed to surface. Fear was an enemy as real as the German Army he would soon face. It had to be wrestled with, kept in check, and managed like an unwanted companion through the months ahead.

The evening passed with dinner and conversation about hunting trips and good times in the past. World events and the progress of the war were excluded from the conversation so as not to bring a dark cloud over the evening. It would be an evening to remember for the rest of their lives. Not because the dinner was extraordinary, although it was. Not because the conversation was different than any other occasion, but because of the tender feelings that were shared by all. Going upstairs to retire brought a flood of memories back to Derald. He had climbed those squeaky stairs so many times as a boy. It was upstairs in which he had stayed with his two brothers. It was up there that they had wrestled, played, studied their schoolwork, and grown to adulthood. Now to return, on this last night at home, seemed appropriate. Nostalgia has a way of bringing comfort to the soul as nothing else can. It had been good for Derald to be home again.

The next morning, after breakfast, Florence and Lilly went into the front room and left Derald and his father at the breakfast table alone. They sat there in silence, unable to find words for the moment. Minutes seemed like hours. Finally Selby stood up, picked up his lunch box, turned and said, Take care of yourself, and went to work. Deep down Derald wanted more from his father at this moment, but he understood his father’s limited capacity for displays of emotion. Derald was like his father in that way, whether learned or inherited, he did not know, but he understood why he had left so abruptly.

Derald joined his mother and his wife in the front room.

Is your father gone? Lilly said.

Yeah, he had to get to work, said Derald. Mom, I’m going to write you as often as I can. I don’t know how busy they’ll keep us, but I’ll write and let you know how I am.

You better, she said. You know how mothers worry.

It was now time for Derald and Florence to leave. They had to drive back to Southern Iowa to catch the troop train in Chariton. Florence’s brother would meet them there with John to see Derald off. Derald stood up as he said, Mom, we have to go. I can’t be late for the train. As he stood up, his mother’s eyes filled with tears. The emotion that filled