Emmett and Bud were my father’s younger brothers. They were close in age – Bud being the youngest. Emmett was somewhat shy and quiet, Bud was boisterous and dashing. They were always together when they were young and had a reputation for extreme orneriness according to my mother, who taught them at Randolph school. Emmett would come up with ideas and goad Bud into carrying out the dirty work, then they would both sit back and laugh.
Dad told a story of how they would get their rooster drunk. They would fill a battery tester full of wine, stick the hose down the rooster’s neck, and then squeeze the rubber bulb, thus filling up the rooster. The drunk fowl would then drag his wing tips along the ground to keep from falling over, walk right off of the roost – a drop of about 5 feet, and exhibit other bizarre behavior. The boys would double up with laughter.
Emmett and Bud were both musicians – Emmett played banjo and Bud played guitar, and sometimes they would sing harmony together. They played old time music from the hills of West Virginia similar to what is now called “Bluegrass”. The Langs had never experienced any sounds like this since they were raised on classical and pop, and they thought this music primitive and comical.
Emmett and Bud both enlisted in the service during WW2 and were combat infantry soldiers. Emmett carried a sniper rifle and served in France and Belgium. He told me that the recoil from his rifle sometimes caused the scope to hit his face and gave him a black eye. He was wounded by shrapnel which took about 2.5 inches of bone from his upper left arm. The only apparent lasting effect was that his arm was shorter and somewhat weakened. This prevented him from operating his pump shotgun upon returning to civilian life, so he bought an automatic shotgun for hunting.
Bud carried a B-A-R (Browning Automatic Rifle) and saw action in the Battle of the Bulge and Hürtgen Forest. These were fierce and bloody battles – especially the latter. Unlike over 95 percent of his company, Bud came out of there alive – and without a scratch. He did however, end up with very severe PTSD ( they called it combat fatigue in those days).
Hürtgen Forest
Both uncles were a lot of fun, but Bud was by far the most entertaining. One time when he was courting his future wife she invited him over for dinner to meet her folks. In order to embarrass her when dessert was served, Bud picked up the cake and rubbed it all over his face.
Instead of saying “goodbye” or “so-long” when leaving our house, Bud would always give the old truck-drivers mantra:
“Keep your endgate up and your fifth wheel greased”.
At Roliff reunions Bud was the center of attention. He was full of fun and laughter and the kids loved to hear his stories. Emmett never talked much about wartime experiences, but he knew exactly how to push Bud’s buttons. All he would have to say is, “Hey Bud, tell them about the Battle of the Bulge”. Bud would then stand up, pull in his chin, puff out his chest, take a deep breath, and the tales would flow thick and fast about how he and his buddies beat up the whole German army with nothing but a rusty old fly swatter! Emmett would then just sit back and grin, satisfied that he had put Bud on once again. The stories were obviously a mixture of fact and fantasy, and told with humor as though he didn’t expect anyone to take them all too seriously.
I remember one story in particular in which Bud told of passing a jewelry store in Germany with the name “Roliff” over the door.
Somebody asked, ”Were you nice to the owners”
“WELL, I DIDN’T SHOOT ‘EM”, replied Bud in a big deep voice.
Someone else asked, “Didn’t you stop and talk to them since they were probably your relatives?”
Bud replied, “I didn’t have time”. Then he said in his most important voice:
“AFTER ALL, WE HAD TOWNS TO TAKE!”
The last time I saw Uncle Bud, I walked up to him and said,”Hey Bud, how the hell are you?”, expecting to start the usual round of fun and laughter. With wide-open eyes and expressionless face he stared right through me, not being able to say a word. He was dying of Alzheimer’s, which was most likely due to the stresses of war. The fun-loving person that I once knew no longer inhabited that body.
Because of the sacrifices of ornery boys like Emmett and Bud, we now live in freedom and speak English, not German.
Godspeed Uncle Emmett and Uncle Bud wherever you are. Keep your endgate up and your fifth wheel greased.