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A while back, Jim published in the "HOT LINE", a photo of some of “Red Devil Dog” personnel with a group of male and female Russians, I happened to be in the picture and at our last reunion had many inquiries about the story of that photo (Actually, two people asked.)  Anyway, here it is, the original "Glasnost".

When the pontoon bridge across the Rhine was ready for traffic Grimm said,, "You won, you go first".  I didn’t feel much like a winner, but knew better than to attempt any debate, so we went.  Our orders were to "do anything you can to help the infantry and find a good place for the company to spend the night.  The infantry didn’t seem to need any help as we entered Wiesbaden.  All the hotels were already occupied by advance parties from Division, the regiments and attached battalions.  A colonel suggested that tanks should be somewhere on a perimeter defensive position and sent us to the north-eastern suburbs.  Being outranked again, off we went.   We collected a few weapons and cameras and liberated or captured a couple of neighborhoods enroute to a large stone house with a brick factory building behind it.  Investigating by surrounding the complex, we saw no one until we approached a barbed-wire compound with a one-floor wooden building inside. 

As we stopped, expecting to see some soldiers, the windows opened and a lot of yelling occurred.  Our Slavic-language expert said it was Russian.  He asked who they were, and we found that they were prisoners-of-war who were being used as laborers in the factory.  We of course, told them their war was over and drove through a big iron gate to enter the grounds. We found only an old German couple who were care-takers of the stone house, no one else but the Russians.  By now, the fence had been breeched by a tank and they came to welcome “their Liberators".  We decided that the house would be great quarters for the Company and leaving three of our tanks there, the other two returned to the bridge.  I asked a colonel when traffic would be reversed.  He replied, “Lieutenant, I wouldn’t let you go back to Mainz if you offered to swim.”  So we radioed the info to Grimm and left one tank to lead the gang to our “home” for the night.  Returning to the house, we found Randazzo working the German lady in the kitchen preparing some dinner.  It was now late afternoon and hot food was welcome. 

Some of the gang had done some investigation and told me we had captured a bandage factory!  Having no immediate need for any “dressings” we were all a little disappointed the Russians had all left and we thought we would never see them again.  As it  turned we were wrong.  The Company finally arrived in the wee hours of the morning and all but those on guard went to bed.  This is where the weird stuff begins.  Almost all of you have seen me take a drink from time to time but, but none have ever seen me drunk.  Except those who spent the next day with me!  In mid-morning, three Russian men and a couple of the women came to our door and requested a discussion.  Calling our interpreter, we got the following request; They wished to have their liberators as guests at a party they were having to celebrate freedom.  They wanted the officer, the sergeant, and the crews of the tanks that first saw them.  Grimm said “Go ahead, have fun.” 

Then, all the Russians and some of us posed for that picture.  At about noon the group of us went to the barracks to find that the Russians had foraged, raided and stolen enough food for a real banquet, and enough booze to float the Q.E.II.  There was a large table in the main room but the man in charge took me, the interpreter, Krouse and a couple others into a smaller room.  The three men were all pilots of planes that had been shot down, and the women were captured soldiers, a couple of them officers!  We all sat at one table and everyone had a fork and a glass.  Food of unknown origin on was in plates all over the table and we all just speared what we wanted.  Some tasted okay, some was rather strange. 

The head Russian stood and made a speech, mostly thanking us and proposed a toast to Russian-American friendship.  Our glasses had been filled from bottles of something very strong.  I took a sip, heard a lot of Russian laughter, and had my glass tipped up by one of the girls.  I swallowed some, spilled some and wore some.  I knew right then that we were in trouble, and we surely were.

We drank toasts to Roosevelt, Churchill, Stalin, Mrs. Roosevelt, Fala, the American Army, Patton, The Russian Army and Air Force, the 702nd, the 1st  Platoon, Capt. Grimm (who, strangely did not attend) and just about anybody or anything that was suggested.  I was trying to eat enough to stay a little bit sober and was doing a good job of spilling my drink so that I didn’t have as much to down.  It must have worked, for after about an hour one of the Russian men quietly and slowly slid out of his chair onto the floor.  All laughed and two women dragged him to a corner and sat him up, head on chest, Then we drank a toast to him!  And to each one of us present!  About at this time, I knew if I did not leave I would not make it alone, and thanked then, and said ( through our interpreter ) that I had duties to perform.  I lied and could not have performed a decent right-face if asked. 

Somehow, I walked or staggered out of the building and made the 50 yards or so to our house, up the steps and into the C.P. and collapsed on the floor.  This must have been about 1400 hours.  At 0700 the next day, Grimm woke me and yelled in my ear “Rise and hit the road party boy!”  The ride northward towards Kassel was the most miserable ride in a tank I can remember.  The worlds biggest hangover, really!  Academy Award stature, all that noise, dust and stopping and starting.  That was the last I drank anything for a long while.  At least three days!  Very few witnessed my shame and none will long remember but I really did get royally smashed for the honor and glory of our country and unit.  There should be some kind of award for diligence and behaviour far beyond the call of duty!

Milt Still, 22 Jan., 1990