I just finished a three and a half year writing project and self-published my work of creative non-fiction aka historical fiction entitled Jim & Nancy: Two Paths Merged by War. It is a compilation of the stories of my preceding generation from the Great Depression and World War II. The process lead me to some revelations and conclusions about the folks that survived this cataclysmic period. Let's take two subjects from my work. First, the yes. Then, the no. YES My father, James Eulis Creasy, from Cloverdale, Alabama joined the U. S. Army in 1939 mainly to escape the abject poverty of his youth. He found a grand life in the peacetime army and was assigned to the the 29th Infantry Regiment at Fort Benning. They were the "demonstration regiment' for the Army. One of the first to be mechanized and one of the first to be issued M1 Garand rifles. They were very good at what they did. Thus, they were kept at Benning until mid-1943 serving in an invaluable training role. Having earned one of the early GEDs and made Staff Sergeant, Dad was a squad leader by the time the 29th was finally sent overseas. They were kept unattached from any division and sent to Iceland to relieve a Marine division as it was needed in the Pacific. In January of 1944 the 29th Infantry Regiment was sent to England and they became specialists in guarding lines of communication and marshaling yards. Here is the "yes." On June 4, 1944 Dad and a handful of his fellow "We Lead the Way" buddies were pulled from their regular outfits and sent to guard a detention center (wire and wood) hastily constructed in the New Forrest of Hampshire. Their regimental commander told them their mission was to receive and hold American military personnel that simply "refused to go." The wayward troops would be dealt with through normal channels after the invasion was well under way. As it turned out, the big day was not the 5th but it was the 6th. When I was a boy, I asked my Pop what he did on D-Day. He said, "Well, Dan, me and some other guys from my outfit were sent out in the middle of nowhere to guard deserters and soldiers that just "refused to go" when their units crossed the English Channel. Yep, they had built this big stockade to hold hundreds of guys in an area the British called the New Forrest." I asked, "How many men were sent to you, Daddy?" He replied, "None, Dan. Not a single one." "None?" "That's right, Son." Then he chuckled and continued, "We got kinda bored. They had two Indian motorcycles with side cars just sitting there by the stockade. We rode those around all day – just tearing up and down the English countryside. We took turns. Man, that was fun. The phone in the little guard hut rang once in the night to tell us that the invasion was on, but it never rang again, the whole day." That's right ....... no guests!! NO After the marshaling yards shrank in post D-Day England, the 29th got a new mission. It was late August and the rapidly advancing Allies were running long precarious supply lines to their fronts. This area was called the Communication Zone. The 29th, still unattached, were sent to guard the truck convoys of the Red Ball Express and later, the trains of the rebuilt French railway system. From who, you may ask? German saboteurs, right? Wrong! An army of more than ten thousand AWOL GIs were robbing the Army blind while getting rich selling on the black market to the French. Pretty sorry lot, huh? The job was so big, the Army had to assign the 118th Infantry Regiment to help them out. Both regiments functioned in this role until they were pulled from the Communication Zone on a moments notice in December of 1944 to guard the river crossings of the Meuse in Northern France and Belgium. The Ardennes Counteroffensive was stopped just miles short of the Meuse.