As the world pauses today to recognize the 80th anniversary of D-Day, the simultaneous landing of US, British, and Canadian forces on the beaches of Normandy on June 6, 1944, the mood this year is much more somber than usual. Although D-Day remembrances have always been solemn, this year is likely the last major anniversary that will be commemorated with veterans who lived through it. It is a discomforting thought to many, who, having grown up learning about World War II, reading about it in history books, and hearing stories from their parents or grandparents, and, having recognized the magnitude of the war and its consequences, are dismayed by the idea that the stories of the war and those who lived it might someday be forgotten.
That’s one reason why, in 2016, Dennis Wolf approached his uncle Al Torborg, then 92 years old, to collaborate on a project to record his memories of his experiences as a combat medic with the 35th Infantry Division and Third Army during WWII.
“I remember as a kid he would tell me about WWII,” said Wolf. “He would tell me about meeting Patton. And he would tell me about his experiences coming across dead soldiers that had been hit by artillery… I didn’t know if he really wanted to talk more about it.”
But as it turned out, Torborg was open to the idea. Wolf - who lives in Oregon - would call Torborg - who lives in Minnesota - and talk on the phone with a recorder running. Wolf later transcribed the interviews into a memoir, adding some additional history and writings about the experiences of soldiers of the 35th Inf. Div. and 320th Regiment (Torborg’s regiment).
“I think at this point in our history, it’s important that the stories are told,” said Wolf, an Army veteran himself.
“As a medic, maybe he treated some of these soldiers that were wounded and they survived to come back and live lives, get married and have children, and grandchildren,” said Wolf. “Their children and grandchildren will know what their grandpa did in the war, but they won’t know what Al did.”
Al’s WWII story began when he was drafted in May of 1943 at 19 years old. He was sent to Camp Robinson, Ark., where half the group was assigned to attend training to become medics and half was assigned to attend armor training. Torborg was in the group that was selected to be medics.
After initial training, he spent 11 and a half days crossing the Atlantic on a transport ship in the spring of 1945 under the threat of German U-Boats, which sunk four other transports after the convoy moved out of the range of cover for air support. He arrived in England around the time of the D-Day invasion and worked in a hospital treating wave after wave of casualties. It wasn’t long until he was notified that he was going to France. In July of 1944, he was sent across the English Channel to Saint-Lô to replace the last combat medic of Baker Company, 230th Regiment, 35th Infantry Division, who had recently been killed in action.
Torborg stayed with Baker Company through the fighting at Saint-Lô in the fall of 1944, Bastogne in the winter of 1944-1945, and to the Elbe River during the lead up to the liberation of Berlin in the spring of 1945.
His memoir recount stories of treating wounded Allied soldiers and French and German civilians, encountering prisoner of war camps, and being so close to the front lines that he could exchange words with German medics treating their own wounded soldiers.
“I remember sometimes I would be out running around treating wounded and I could see the German medic doing the same,” recalled Torborg. “Often I would talk with the German medic to let him know what I did to his soldiers and he would tell me what he’s done to my American soldiers. In that way we sort of worked together. It struck me as odd at first, but the German medic and I had a kind of kinship in that we only wanted to help the wounded, it did not matter what uniform they wore.”
He tells harrowing stories about surviving white phosphorus attacks, artillery and Tiger tanks.
“You could hear it zing through the air,” said Torborg of the artillery. “And then sometimes I would hear, “Doc, I’m hit.” And “it’s so hot.” The men are yelling, “I’m burning up.” Those bombs killed and wounded so many men. All a person could do was hope he’s not next. It was a constant fear. Often we would overrun the areas that we hit with artillery and there would be a lot of dead Germans. The Germans most of the time took their wounded with them as they retreated but they left the dead lay. Although sometimes if we advanced real quick we would find some wounded and we’d take care of them because they’re out of the picture anyway, they’re harmless. You kind of feel sorry for them because it could be you lying there. The war is over for them. And they’d tell us too. They’d say, “This war is over for me, but you have to keep fighting.” Those Germans were glad to be done. See, in a strange way there’s a lot of compassion on the battlefield. We all knew the next time it could be you. They were our enemy, yet we had a respect and understanding for what they were going through because we were experiencing it too. It’s hard to explain. Anyway, we just kept moving forward, always forward.”
He also includes some more lighthearted stories about surviving K rations and cold showers and recalled times the soldiers used grenades to go fishing.
“The grenade would blow and all the fish would float to the top. You had to be careful though because if you threw the grenade too close to the fish it would blow the fish to pieces, then you had nothing. This sounds crazy but the thought of fresh fish fried up was very inspiring. We would fry them up and I always tried to fry up some American fries as well for the men. It tasted so good. You can’t imagine how big of a treat it was for soldiers on the front line. Experiences like this were bonding for us. Well eventually the locals had enough of this and complained so much to General Patton that we were taking their fish that General Patton put out an order to “leave the fish alone,” so that ended that. No more fish fries for us!”
One thing Torborg liked to remember was having met General George Patton, commander of Third Army, on several occasions. “I think the biggest reason we liked Patton was because he cared about the enlisted man,” Torborg recounted. Torborg also remembered Patton as a fair disciplinarian who empowered his non-commissioned officers and who inspired confidence and respect in his troops. “When Third Army moves, we make headlines,” Torborg remembered Patton always saying.
After the fall of Berlin, the 230th Regiment returned to England, and from there, travelled home to America. The 35th Division left South Hampton, England on September 5th and arrived in New York City on September 10th – the war in Europe was over!
“We came up the Hudson River and the captain told us, “Look straight ahead,”” Torborg recalled. “There stood the Statue of Liberty. That was kind of nice. Then there was a series of whistles and again, here came the tugboats to bring us into harbor.”
Upon reaching America, Torborg returned home to Minnesota and was discharged from the Army in November of 1945.
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