MEDIC TREATED FELLOW POWs
Doc Collins didn’t turn down a chance to get in the ring with enemy guard.
My stepfather, J.C. “Doc” Collins, was a combat medic in the Army during World War II. He fought in North Africa and Italy, and after D-Day he landed in France.
Doc was captured Sept.
25, 1944, while tending his wounded troops. His company had pulled back, and it was raining. Doc wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings, until a pair of boots appeared in front of him. When he saw they were black, he knew he was in the wrong place.
The Germans processed him as a POW, moving him to a camp outside Frankfurt, Germany. There, they allowed him to care for the wounded and injured Allied troops, mostly pilots and air crew.
Doc was a Choctaw from Oklahoma and the Germans were intrigued. He managed to trade cigarettes with them for wine, and saved the wine to give all the POWs a very happy Thanksgiving.
Doc had been a champion boxer back home. When the Germans saw him sparring, Doc got to box a Russian and a Frenchman, but his favorite was a camp guard.
He told me, “I knocked them all on their coondog, but I really enjoyed smacking that German!”
In February 1945, the camp commander asked if the prisoners wanted to walk toward the American lines.
All that could, set out, but some had frozen or swollen feet. Doc stayed with them about a week, until they could walk, too. They trudged 345 miles to Lubeck, Germany, arriving in May. Doc spoke freely of the war, but never gave details about that march.
Doc was soon on a boat to New York, very happy to be going back to Oklahoma. He was discharged, but then the Korean War broke out in ’50 and of course he couldn’t just stay home. But that’s another story for another time.