At long last, WWII veterans meet
Both were from Berks County, served in the same division and lived only miles apart.
They both grew up in Berks County, crossed the Atlantic Ocean on the same voyage of the Queen Mary and saw action in Normandy and the Battle of the Bulge during World War II.
And though they live only seven miles apart in Bern Township, it took 99 years for Edward W. Mull and Norman Reifsnyder to meet face-to-face.
That auspicious occasion took place Monday when the old soldiers, both 99, sat down for a two-hour chat at Mull’s house.
“You and I were in the same division, you live in my backyard and we’ve never met,” mused Reifsnyder. “My goodness.”
When Mull was featured in a recent Reading Eagle story, Reifsnyder was amazed to discover that a WWII comrade lived close by.
S ub se quent ly, t he i r daughters — Barbara Mull Miller and Rebecca Reifsnyder Schmidt — arranged the long overdue meeting.
“This is a great reunion of two people who never knew each other but have so much in common,” said Schmidt, who lives in North Carolina.
Seated at a dining room table, Mull and Reifsnyder traded war stories, looked at WWII photo albums and reflected on their service in a war that ended 75 years ago last month.
Both men served in separate regiments of the Army’s 80th Infantry Division — Mull in the 318th and Reifsnyder in the 319th.
At various times their units served under the overall campaign of Gen. George S. Patton in the European Theater.
“Yep, old blood and guts,” remarked Refisnyder, who saw Patton close-up once or twice.
Both former GIs had remarkably clear memories of a time when they were 20-somethings and the world was at war.
Both staff sergeants, they brought maps of their reg
imental campaigns, which they referred to in recalling operations in France, Belgium and Germany.
Remembering war
It was a moonlight night when Reifsnyder’s unit landed in Normandy about two months after D-Day, June 6, 1944.
A clean-up operation, the unit’s mission was to secure French towns vacated by German units.
“I remember entering Or
leans,” Reifsnyder recalled. “There was a statue of Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orleans, in the town square.”
Not all of his experiences were as pleasant, recalled Reifsnyder, a radio operator trained in Morse code. Dodging mortar fire, snipers and German artillery shells had its tense moments.
One artillery shell landed so close during the Battle of the Bulge, it blew the tires off Reifsnyder’s jeep. An
other time, a room he was supposed to occupy collapsed and another soldier was severely injured.
On Christmas Eve 1944, U.S. artillery called in by Reifsnyder took out a German tank unit. He still remembers the badly burned German soldiers.
“War,” Reifsnyder
“is hell.”
While Reifsnyder escaped injury, Mull wasn’t as fortunate.
Crossing a minefield dursaid, ing the Battle of the Bulge, severa l landmines exploded. Three men in his unit were killed and Mull was among 22 injured.
He lay unattended for 17 hours in a field hospital with a wound to his lower leg. He recovered, but still carries shards of shrapnel in his ankle.
One of Mull’s most vivid memories is of a young soldier’s premonition of death.
The night before combat, the soldier washed and shaved and wrote letters home. When his buddies queried, he said “I’m going to die tomorrow.”
At 10 a.m. the next morning, Mull recalled, the premonition came true.
Old soldiers bond
It was as if Mull and Reifsnyder had known each other all their lives.
Within minutes, the old soldiers were chewing the fat like old buddies. After all, they both rose through the ranks to become staff sergeants.
Indeed, their were similar.
After the war, they came home, got married and raised families.
Mull went to work for the Reading Railroad. Reifsnyder ran a dairy farm until Blue Marsh Lake put him out of business. After that, he formed a landscaping business.
They agreed, as most wartime survivors do, that somebody up there was watching over them.
After two hours of telling war stories and paging through photo albums, they reflected on their wartime experience over generous portions of Barbara Miller’s shoofly cake.
Reisfnyder, who wore his World War II Eisenhower jacket, put his arm around Mull’s shoulders and looked him in the eye.
“What an experience we had,” said Reifsnyder. “And we didn’t know it.” life paths