debindesert
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THE BULGE AND BAJA
Sometimes the snow would come down in large clumps, then the wind would start, That would be the worst time. Collars up and field helmets strapped
down, the cold blistering snow swirling sideways, shooting needle stings against their chaffed faces. It was a wet snow. On contact, it would
saturate their worthless khaki wool coats, through the fatigues, then to the bone. No one had to tell these dog faced GIs that this was a bad winter.
Some guys had never been more than 30 miles from their birthplace and at best a 6th grade education. But, they all knew where they were and what they
were doing in a place called the Ardennes.
All had scattered when a rogue sniper started. Running for some cover, Bo, Tyrell, Roger, and Vic found themselves in an open area just below some
bombed out ruins of a castle. Bo had lost his medical bag scrambling for the hole. The Germans had the advantage of stealth and shelter from a higher
position in the ruins.
Going on a day and a half now, some of the snow would melt. There was no where for it to go but to the bottom of the hole. Now, these four men were
in two feet of muck consisting of ice, pee, mud, and water. With every small movement, you could hear sloshing for yards around. The Germans could
hear too. “Wat das madder American? You cold?” Then fire a short round.
All were suffering from hypothermia with no way to get help. The youngest of the GIs was the worst off, loosing consciousness about the third day.
Although Bo was a Medic, he tried to keep him warm with the only thing he had, body heat. With his arms around the kid, he could feel his pulse
fading.
Suppressing an internal rage, he cursed the snow and cold. He looked toward the gray sky, praying, and vowed to himself that if he got out of this
alive, he would go straight to California. Nice warm California. Maybe even see Mexico. Hell, from Normandy he crawled through thickets and
hedgerows. Then walked and waded across icy cold rivers the rest of the way. Even the resemblance of a dirt road would be a luxury.
Staring a his medical pack just 10 feet away, two prior attempts to retrieve it brought a rain of bullets down on them. Tyrell and Roger held Bo down
in fear of doing something reckless to get them all killed. As he came to his senses, acknowledging both had a grip on each arm. He calmly swore to
them, “I’m going to California. I’m gonna fish the Pacific Ocean. I’m gonna fish all the way into Mexico and never to look at snow again.” Both of
the GIs let him go, affirming Bo’s vow by saying, “I’m with ya man and Amen to that”.
The Germans started shooting again. This time it seemed like there was more of them. Tyrell and Roger scrambled for their rifles to return fire with
the remaining ammo they had left. At least the panic and scuffle rejuvenated their adrenalin. Crouched over the young boy, Bo so desperately wanted
to save, he placed his hand down into his collar and reluctantly pulled on his dog tags.
It was in the early morning of the fourth day. A very welcomed sound of Shermans could be heard in some nearby valley. Then, American reinforcements
were slowly appearing from the rear. As a fresh company approached the foxhole, Bo reached out to the first soldier. It was a Sergeant. Yanking him
down into the hole and with both hands gripping each lapel, he shoved his face against the Sergeant's. With cold spit and frost from his breath, he
screamed, “You help me get this flockin soldier out of this flockin hole.” Without another word, each man grabbed an arm and carried the boy through
the crossfire, back behind the lines, and to a Medical Station.
From that day on, and to the day Bo died, he kept his vow. He never saw snow again. And, he went fishin. He went fishin all the way to Land’s End.
In the picture Bo is somewhere in Baja (1947). Notice the shirt he is wearing. It is G.I. issue. My mother ought to know, she ironed and packed it
for him. She also said it was hard braking him of wearing those damn boots.
Could any Nomads help me out with the location?
Thanks for reading - Deb
“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well
preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, champagne in one hand, strawberries in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and
screaming, \'What a ride!\' - Author Unknown
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bajajudy
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Sorry I cant help you with the location
BUT that is a wonderful story. Thank you so much for sharing.
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DENNIS
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Fine writing Deb. Is it yours?
Not much info in the foto to place it.
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woody with a view
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Watson, the game is afoot!
Deb, what time of year was this foto taken? the waves are rather large and depending on the season, you may narrow down which half of Baja the foto
was taken....MAYBE!
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debindesert
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Yes, this is my story. Well, as my Dad told it to me. I cleaned it up a bit. I always thought it just a good story until it was corroborated while
my father was in the VA Hospital (San Bernardino). Two of those GIs that was trapped with him, visited. They both credit him with their relocation
to California, many, many trips to Baja, and the most important one of all, the life of that younger GI.
Sometime around the late 60s the trips started to get fewer and fewer. Along with job responsibilities and an active family, he said his favorite
place (village and all) had been washed away by a big storm.
My Dad was a tradesman (Painter/Drywall). Not often in Southern California, but when it would rain, he would not be able to work. This would be
between December through March. That’s when he would go.
I hope this helps.
Thanks - Deb
“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well
preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, champagne in one hand, strawberries in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and
screaming, \'What a ride!\' - Author Unknown
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Von
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Is that a house in the lower right corner? Its not south of baja, Im pretty sure; hes wearing a jacket must be Erendida perhaps? its somewhat cool
no? who knows? Iknow the coast very well fromTJ to Erendida and this seems to be somewhat something reflective to that in my own opinion.. if im
wrong oh well... Im From Rosarito La BArca my mom was born in 1949 in Rosarito My grandpa bought a kilometer of bch back then in 1939 now its 50xs
smaller My old friend JR use to live on our trailer park my grandpas trailer park. I do know my own backyard just landscapes do change you know, or
marbe it could be in San Diego somewhat looks like it ? you never know goodluck...Von
[Edited on 12-31-2007 by Von]
READY SET.....................
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debindesert
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Von,
That’s pretty much the argument my Mother and I are having now. She says she always took the film in to be developed when he got back from Baja.
There was a ranch type place with a small landing strip that was a meeting place for him and a man by the name of Jose (middle of pic). This is the
place (my Mother says) my Father referred to as being washed away by the big storm and mud slides.
My take is just North of the boarder. That structure in the back seems out of place for 1947. Also, my Father would sometimes work his way down the
coast. Maybe he just didn’t get into Baja that day.
I thank you for your expertise. My travels have always been on the Eastern side of the peninsula. I hope to remedy this by at least one trip in
2008.
“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well
preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, champagne in one hand, strawberries in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and
screaming, \'What a ride!\' - Author Unknown
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DENNIS
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Quote: | Originally posted by Von
Is that a house in the lower right corner? |
Looks like a barn.
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David K
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Deb, in this line :"There was a ranch type place with a small landing strip " I think you have provided the clue needed:
In Arnorld Senterfitt's 'Airports of Baja California' (4th edition, 1967) there was an airstrip along the coast at Puerto Santo Tomas (#A-11) and the
terrain looks much like the photo you posted.
This is about 20 miles south of Ensenada...
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Mexitron
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Sounds about right David--looks like La Bocana there...could that be a Gomez? Anyone know any stories about La Bocana flooding out?
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debindesert
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I new if I put it out there; someone would come up with something. As for the real “Mr. Gomez”, I think you’re pulling my leg.
My Father was a man of his generation and upbringing. Especially in the deep south (Louisianan), prejudices ran deep. All Mexicans were “Jose” or
“Juan“. But, he referred to one man as “GoGo”. One day while packing his truck, I asked where he knew to fish? His answer was, “GoGo knows where
they were bighting”. Yep, GoGo Gomez knows where to go!”. All this time, I thought it sweet. Now, you’ve got me wondering. And, it pleases me to
have wonder.
Thank you - Deb
“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well
preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, champagne in one hand, strawberries in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and
screaming, \'What a ride!\' - Author Unknown
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David K
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Area from space
Punta Santo Tomas at the top and Punta China at the bottom. The airstrip is parallel to the coast just north of Punta China.
Puerto Santo Tomas/ La Bocana
[Edited on 1-1-2008 by David K]
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Mexitron
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The resolution in Google Earth is pretty bad at St. Thomas but it does look like the same hill in the background; I wasn't sure how to copy the image
to show it here("copy" command didn't do it). So, would be interesting if that were indeed one of the Gomez clan, if not "the" Mr. Gomez. The
buildings in the background are where I remember them being described in the book.
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bajajudy
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Who took the picture. Do you know? I love mysteries!
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debindesert
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bajajudy - Not a clue who took the picture.
Instead of throwing a rock, I know where I'm going this June. Thanks
David K
Quote: |
Punta Santo Tomas at the top and Punta China at the bottom. The airstrip is parallel to the coast just north of Punta China.
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“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well
preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, champagne in one hand, strawberries in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and
screaming, \'What a ride!\' - Author Unknown
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David K
Honored Nomad
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Location: San Diego County
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Mood: Have Baja Fever
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The pleasure is mine!
When you get there, try and take a photo looking at the same background to compare!
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Bajabus
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Dang David.....you rock.
"Preventive war was an invention of Hitler. Frankly I would not even listen to anyone seriously that came and talked of such a thing."
Dwight David Eisenhower
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