ONCE UPON A TIME IN BUCH

You had to know Jerry. You had to know Dutch.

Jerry - serious and studious, concerned about appearances, gullible, such an easy mark... and Dutch - Mr. Know-It-All, brash, loud, impossible to embarrass, and, in his mind, a born leader, and not far off - were friends of mine and fellow artillery officers with me in the Missouri National Guard.

Our unit was sent to Germany on a training exercise, and being an artillery headquarters, we were assigned to work with our Regular Army counterparts in mock war games across the country. We were there learning how to defend Germany from attack from the East, and this being before unification, the citizenry was grateful for our participation and wanted to accommodate us. So, it was serious business.

A long, wet, night road march brought our combined convoy to Buch, a small village of maybe a thousand, where we set up our initial field operations in a clearing above town. In accordance with the doctrine of the day, we were to be prepared to move quickly to other positions as dictated by the tactical situation. So, few accommodations were available for the comfort of the troops. No need for sleeping facilities because of around-the-clock operations and naps were grabbed under the trucks. Nature’s calls were answered as time permitted in cold, wet, drafty uncomfortable portable toilets set up far away from work areas.

Being a field grade officer meant Jerry was on duty for far longer stretches than Dutch and I who were mere captains. We even ventured into Buch when off shift and were able to slake our thirst or have a meal, but not Jerry. He kept to the tasks at hand, got little sleep, stayed wet, and owing to the inconvenient facilities, put off “staying regular”. Finally, after a few days of this denial, it got the best of him, and, duty be damned, he was going into the village to find a warm, dry, comfortable “WC” to relieve himself.

Dutch, now being quite familiar with the town, took charge. Off we went into town, sure that there would be a public bathroom available for what was quickly becoming an emergency situation. We came across the City Hall and Dutch, being the leader he was, said he could speak German and went inside to look for the WC. I’m not sure what he said or to whom he said it, but in less than two minutes, out came Dutch and the mayor of the town who quickly hustled the six of us into his car and off we sped. As we careened through the town, Jerry is asking Dutch what did you say? and where are we going?, but got no answer. All the while, the Mayor is talking in rapid-fire German to Dutch who apparently didn’t speak the language nearly as well as he led us to believe.

After a few minutes of daring, sliding hairpin turns, we pulled in to a large school/gymnasium/church complex where the Mayor proudly presented what he thought were the desired facilities, a huge hall with dining rooms, kitchens, sleeping quarters, and bathrooms. Turns out, Dutch’s limited German skills had confused the Mayor into thinking we were looking for a place to accommodate our entire unit, not just Jerry’s singular need for a warm, dry stall. By this time, Jerry is beyond embarrassment and needed to go immediately, whatever the Mayor understood.

Leaving the group to sort out the misunderstanding, he found his private stall and great relief came after days of depriving himself. But, German toilets don’t function the way we are used to in the U.S., in that there is no water in the bowl to start with. Jerry deposited such a load in the dry bowl that no amount of flushing after the fact would get rid of it. Sheepishly, he had not much choice other than to step into the hall and ask for something to assist with the disposal, something that Dutch later loudly called, in artillery parlance, a rammer staff.

Hearing the news that an entire American army unit was deploying to their complex, a rather large group of nuns, cleaning crew, teachers, officials, and other townspeople had gathered just outside the bathroom with the Mayor to see if we found the place adequate for our needs. As Jerry finally exited the bathroom, embarrassed and with rammer staff in hand, he was met with a smattering of bemused, but polite, applause.

Dutch assured the Mayor that he approved of the facilities and they would be hearing from us. Thankfully, our unit received a mock attack in the middle of the night and had to make an immediate move, so Buch’s offer of hospitality went unused.