© 2008 John M. Khoury
Chapter 23
Trenchfoot
Many men were going on sick call because of trench foot, which is a form of frostbite. This can result from not taking off combat boots, letting the feet dry in the air, and changing into dry socks. So many soldiers were getting trench foot that we heard that the big brass in the rear echelons threatened to court-martial soldiers who went on sick call with trench foot. They must have thought that that was a brilliant idea, but who would be left to man the front lines? Certainly, a sick and miserable GI at the front could use a court-martial to ease his suffering. If he was a private, what could he lose in rank and pay? How unhappy would he be in a stockade, miles from the front and served hot food and given a clean bed and a roof over his head? It would have been almost as welcome as a million-dollar wound.
In reality, no one was even threatened with a court-martial, because it was extremely difficult to prevent trench foot when you were always on the move with the enemy just a few hundred yards in front of you. Seldom did you take off your boots and change your socks if you even had a dry pair, because you never knew when you had to move out. It snowed and rained, and nothing you wore was dry. If you took off your boots, you could not easily get them back on because your feet were swollen. At night, you slept a few hours at a time in your foxhole with your boots on and with your weapon at your side. If nature called and you had to climb out of the foxhole to dig a cat-hole and relieve yourself, the time and effort you needed to put on your three pairs of socks and boots could result in an Aaccident.@ It happened that some men who had taken their boots off did not bother to put them on to go to the Alatrine.@ They ran through the snow in stockinged feet. At least one soldier had to leave his boots behind when the Germans attacked during the night and we had to retreat.
Finally, after a week or ten days of not being able to take off my boots, I removed them and found that my feet were swollen, but I did not think it was a major problem. I felt okay otherwise, and it was nothing to be worried about. For a few days, as I walked, it seemed that there were pebbles in my shoes and I did not want to step very hard on my feet. I told one of my officers about it, and he said I must go to a doctor in the medical battalion. For the first time, I went to see the medics. When I took off my boots and socks, the soles of my feet were thick, deeply wrinkled, deathly white, and covered with red spots. I thought they could use a little talcum powder and would be okay, but the doctor said I had trench foot and I had to go to the hospital.
I had mixed feelings about this, because I did not think I needed to go to the hospital and I did not want to leave my buddies. I thought trench foot meant that your feet turned black and your toes had to be amputated. Besides, on the way to the hospital, I saw others who had wounds and ailments that were much worse than mine. I could walk while some men were on stretchers. I looked fine, while others had bandages. I could talk, while others mumbled incoherently. I was just too healthy.
When we arrived at the hospital, a sergeant called out the name of each man in the group, alphabetically, and told them to enter. I found myself standing all alone when he got to the end of the list and had not called my name. He came over to me and said, APfc.. Khoury, do you have relatives in Detroit?@ I said, AYes, on my mother=s side, but I don=t know them.@ He replied, AI think we=re cousins. My family is Naimy. How are you doing? Trench foot? That=s not bad. Take care of yourself. Good luck.@ With a handshake and a hug, we went our separate ways.
The hospital was in the town of Vittel that is famous for its mineral water. On the entrance to the hospital there is a plaque commemorating its service as a U.S. Army hospital during World War I. Again, this was a repetition of history with new actors filling the roles of those actors who had retired from the stage of mortal combat.
In the hospital, I found other men from Love Company who had been there for some time. Some were about to be discharged and sent back to the front, and they were not very happy. Others were in very serious condition and were scheduled to go to England or the States. Every day there was a list of new arrivals, and I asked anyone from the company about the latest news. I read the Stars and Stripes but all the news covered the First, Third, and Ninth Army actions. For the Seventh Army, the story was always the same: ASome patrol activity on the Seventh Army front.@ Apparently, the newspaper did not think there was anything of importance to report in our part of the world. That was strange because the hospital was filled with so many of our guys and more came in every day.
Red Cross girls came around to each soldier to offer a toiletry kit of a razor, shaving cream and brush, toothpaste and brush, and comb. All of this was from U.S. Army supplies. They brought around a selection of reading materials, such as Stars and Stripes, Yank, magazines, and books. They also had writing paper and envelopes that had ARed Cross@ printed on it. They offered to help those who could not write or who needed help writing letters to their folks and loved ones at home. They were also there to converse and build up morale among the soldiers.
The Army nurses had the difficult work of treating the sick and wounded. They did all the really vital work of giving penicillin shots, changing bandages, taking readings of temperature and blood pressure, attending in operating rooms, cleaning the dirt-caked bodies and wounds of new arrivals, and so much more. They worked long hours and saved so many lives that the doctors owed much of their success to these women. The men also knew that it was the Army nurses who were always there when they needed them. Whenever someone says the Red Cross girls did so much for our wounded soldiers, I must explain that they were not nurses. It was only the Army nurses who were part of the medical team that cared for the wounded and sick soldiers.
For the first time in military history, more soldiers died of wounds than from infection and sickness. In past wars, a wound, however slight, would become infected and usually the soldier would die. He was left where he fell, often to bleed to death. Most often, however, he died of dysentery, fever, pneumonia, malaria, or other diseases caused by bad food or bad weather conditions. Napoleon=s Grande Armee was defeated more by the Russian winter and lack of supplies than by the Russian army.
Not until Florence Nightingale set up hospitals and gave medical treatment during the Crimean War was anything done for the soldiers in battle. Clara Barton founded the American Red Cross during the Civil War to help treat the soldiers in battle. Nevertheless, it was not until World War II that penicillin and highly trained and dedicated nurses and doctors of the U.S. Army saved so many soldiers= lives from sickness and disease. They were heroic in their prompt treatment of everyone, including enemy soldiers.
The hospital stay was a beautiful vacation from the front line. The best of everything was available: food, beds, shelter, and tender loving care. There were no Army routines: uniforms, weapons, saluting, formations, inspections, etc. It was just taking it easy while you recuperated. Of course, those who were seriously sick or wounded were fighting for their lives. Fortunately, most of them survived after they reached the hospital.
On the home front, my family was notified by the Red Cross that I was in a hospital in France. The delegate said that it would be a nice gesture for my father to make a donation to support their organization. He promptly gave $25 to the delegate, who suggested that he should increase it to $50. Instead of $50 he gave $100!
A few days later, he received my letter from the hospital telling him not to give a cent to the Red Cross! I had a very low opinion of the contribution of the Red Cross in World War II.
(To read more, please order a copy of Love Company)
(If you would like to order an autographed copy of "Love Company," please contact the author, John M. Khoury)



