One of the Greatest

February 9

Malcolm L. Daniels died January 24, 2008 at age 81. He was awarded a Purple Heart after being severly wounded during the Battle of Wingen in France during World War II. He was truly one of the Greatest Generation.

I met Malcolm in the summer of 1948 when we were both on the staff at Camp Yawgoog, a Boy Scout reservation in Rockville, Rhode Island. "Peppy," that was his camp nickname, was the chef and I was an apprentice on the waterfront. We were tent mates that summer. He was 21 and walked with a noticable limp and I was 15 and wet behind the ears.

One day when were changing to go swimming I noticed his wound...six indentations, each the size of a bullet, running up the inside of the thigh of one leg.

I said something brillant like, "is that where you were shot?"

"Yeah," he smiled, "and I'm glad he was a trained gunner."

(I didn't know what he meant then but years later when I was drafted into the army I was taught to fire a machine gun in bursts of six rounds to control accuracy.)

As an inpetuous teenager I badgered Peppy with questions about the war and his experiences. He wouldn't talk about it much but he eventually told me two personal experiences that still bring a smile. Here they are in Peppy's words as I remember them.

"My unit was fighting across France, hedge row to hedge row. It was getting late in the day and
we were told to hold up in this paticular hedge row for the night. We were digging in and I distinctly smelled coffee. So did my buddy. We slung our rifles over our shoulders and went looking for the brew with a canteen cup in our hand. We pulled back some bushes and there sat three Krauts with a coffee pot on a sterno and their rifles stacked nearby. I don't know who was more surprised. No one moved. We held out our cups and the German nearest the pot lifted it slowly and poured a small amout in each cup. We said thanks and backed up slowly and then beat it out of there. We ran to our position, grabbed some more guys and went back but the Germans were gone. Just the hot sterno remained. "

"We were still in France when I got hit. I drifted in and out of consciousness. I remember a corpsman putting a tourniquet on my leg. When I came to, there was a German loosening it.
I passed out again. When I regained consciousness I realized I was on a cart. I heard Germans
talking and I thought, 'God I've been captured.' Then I heard a voice in English ask, 'How are we doing here GI?'

'' I opened my eyes to see a smiling American. I was in a forward aid station and it was the German wounded who were the prisoners."

In memory of:

Malcolm "Peppy" Daniels.
Cranston, R.I.