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The following story was written by Henry to tell his friends and family about his life in the US Army.  A longer version is available here.

My name is Henry Bauer.  I was born in Mannheim, Germany on September 19, 1917.  My father's and mother's families had lived in the surrounding areas since the late 17th century.  I came to America in February 1940 after barely escaping the persecution of the Jews in Germany.

More than anything else, I wanted to settle down and become a U.S. citizen.  I had completed an apprenticeship as a printer in Germany and had no problems finding a job.  In March 1941 I registered for the draft and in October 1942 I was inducted into the Army in Fort Dix, NJ.  As a result of military service, I become an American citizen on February 11, 1943 in Macon, GA while taking basic training in nearby Camp Wheeler.  Upon its completion, I was shipped to North Africa and eventually assigned to a unit that administered camps for German and Italian prisoners of war.  Many of my fellow soldiers had backgrounds very similar to mine and we developed close friendships which continue to this day.

While stationed in Casablanca, we attended Jewish services conducted by Rabbi Teitelbaum who sent letters to our families, telling them about our well being.  Like most US soldiers, we were handing out candy and chewing gum to the local urchins and it was a shock when on one occasion the more aggressive ones would point to a few youngsters standing on the side and tell us: "Don't give them anything, they are Jews".  Of course, their remarks had the opposite effect and our new-found friends took us home to their families.  Before we were accepted as Jewish, however, they wanted to see the mezusah which we had attached to our dog tags.  (They were part of a kit donated by the Jewish Welfare Board and given to us by the Rabbi.)  For the rest of our stay in Casablanca we would spend many Friday evenings with one or another of these families.  Although their lifestyle was simple and their small huts sparsely furnished, they were happy to share their local specialty, couscous, with us.

From Casablanca we moved through Algeria to Tunisia where we set up a large enclosure for the remnants of Rommel's Afrika Corps.  On our days off we would hitchhike to Tunis or Bizerte.  I remember one day, when I had visited the ruins of Carthage with 2 fellow sergeants (who were also German born) that a Signal Corps captain picked us up in his jeep and gave us a ride to within 1/2 mile of our camp.  We had not even reached the main gate, when the Military Police caught up with us and checked our identifications.  It turned out that the captain took us for escaped German POWs when he heard us converse with our German accent and he summoned the MPs to check us out.

After our mission in North Africa was finished, we sailed to Salerno, Italy.  Heavy fighting was still going on around Cassino and we were waiting to eventually set up a POW enclosure outside of Aversa near Naples.  Most port facilities were damaged or destroyed and all supplies had to be unloaded offshore.  It was in Salerno that we first met and became friendly with British troops.  One particular unit, the Watertank Battalion, came from Palestine and just like our unit, most of their soldiers were born in Germany but had immigrated to Palestine.  It did not take long and we were trading our cigarette rations and soap for their whiskey and tea.  They were also impressed with all the equipment our army had and one of their noncoms, Quartermaster Dreyfuss, remarked: "You Yanks are a funny people, your ships go on land (referring the landing crafts), your trucks swim in the water (meaning the amphibious trucks) and your soldiers are Yekkes (Jews of a German descent).

When our assignment in Italy was finished, we became part of the invasion of Southern France.  We went ashore near St. Maxime on the Riviera in August 1944.  From there we moved to Marseille, where our unit established another POW enclosure.  By then the war was over in this area and I was able to contact some distant relatives who had been in hiding during the Nazi occupation.  One Friday night a fellow sergeant came back from evening services in Aix en Provence and told me excitedly that he had met a couple from my hometown in Germany.  Sure enough, he was our former dentist, Dr. Joseph Frank, who with his wife and son had been in hiding during the occupation in a small shack which they shared with a rabbit for companionship and entertainment.  Through them I was able to send care packages to an old aunt of my mother and some friends who miraculously had survived the concentration camp in Gurs.  Both my parents had been deported to the same camp.  Because they had passage to America and were just waiting for the American visum, they had been transferred to a sub-camp in Marseille.  Unfortunately the visum was delayed and they were deported to Auschwitz where they perished.  All I could do was to visit the place where they were held.

For the Jewish Holy Days 1945 we were permitted to go to Nice, which at that time was the official Rest and Recreation area for enlisted men.  We were able to take our rations with us and the chefs at the prestigious Hotel Negresco prepared an elaborate meal with them and it was served in several courses.  On previous visits to Nice we had met Jewish refugees who had been in hiding in the mountains surrounding the area.  Most of them had accepted our invitation for the Holy Day celebration and meal.  One of the men, when he heard that I was from New York, asked me: "Efsher, kennt ihr meine brieder in Brooklyn?" (Maybe you know my brothers in Brooklyn?)  It was a celebration I shall never forget.

Soon after, in November 1945 we were scheduled to be rotated back to the States.  Our friends, the Franks, who had "adopted" us, gave us a delicious farewell chicken dinner.  Only afterward did we find out that this was the end for their rabbit.

After returning to New York, I was discharged from the service.  This was, when life in the States really began for me.

Years later, after I was married and we had a family, we joined Leo Baeck Lodge and Chapter of B'nai B'rith in New York where I am a member of the CVS Veterans Affairs Committee.

What Henry refers to as 'when life in the states really began for me' is just the start of the 65+ years when he got married and raised two sons, Larry and Jeff.