A. F. (Amil) Kohutex
Battery C, 132nd Field Artillery

Virgil L. White was a Gunner Corporal in Battery C 132nd Field Artillery. He arrived in the Battery area sometime in February, 1941. Few if any, knew him as Virgil—early on he was named Hollywood. It is not known who gave him this title. He had the good looks of a Hollywood actor. Some say he was headed for Hollywood when that man with the funny hat pointed his finger. About that time the song was making the rounds, "I’ll Be Back in a Year Little Darlin’." Hollywood might have meant to give Uncle Sam his one year and be on his way to Hollywood Current events at the time changed Hollywood’s plans. A mad man in Germany, and his jack booted legions were trampling the Bolshevik herds into the mud of the Russian steppes. And, before Hollywood’s year was up, Hitler promised the world that the swastika would fly atop the Kremlin walls.

Hollywood White was a legend among the men in Battery C. He marched with the best. Hollywood had another talent. Among the fiddle players, Hollywood was by far the best. He could and often did take any old fiddle and make good music. He was not Rubinoff; he preferred Country and Western, much to the delight of common folks. Often he played with such enthusiam, long after the lights were out, that Pokie Barker had to get out of bed, dress, and walk down the Battery Street and remind those that a 9 o’clock curfew was enforced. This prompted Hirman D. Atchison to sing that diddy, "Mama Dont Allow No Fiddle Playing Here." When Hollywood was processed into the Army, they may have failed to ask if he had any musical qualifications, or they badly needed cannoneers. It would have been Battery C’s misfortune for Hollywood to have been assigned to the Division Band.

Battery C was gifted with other fiddlers—Aubrey Ford, John Mader, the left-handed fiddler, and never to be left out, Alton Willoughby. Hollywood remained in the Battery long after the others left. For long periods we were without the sound of Hollywood and his fiddle, as we moved often, as a fiddle cannot be jolted around in a six by six. Sometimes a borrowed fiddle hastily tuned up, provided beautiful music. Hollywood White always came through. Fiddle music under the stars and a lonely outpost, made life worthwhile.

Battery C was trampling in the mud across France, and soon to be through the Belfort Gap, bordering Switzerland. A crew of Forward Artillery Observers—Amil Kohutek, Lem West, Omar Lewis, Norman Micciche, Lt. John Conley, and jeep driver, Asa Smith, with CO L 142nd Infantry, dropped a four-gun Battery of one round into a small French village where a party of Germans were seen. The Germans had no fight left and before the Americans could cross a small river, the Germans fled, along with the civilians. The Arty Crew arrived at a house in reasonably good shape. While Lt. Conley and I made plans to get something to eat (a dozen eggs, few potatoes, and green onion mixed with a can of C Ration stew) the rest of the section elected to do what the conquering army has done since time—to loot. Part of the trailer pulled by Asa Smith’s jeep was loot among 30 caliber rifle amo dropped by tired infantry. Macciche walks up with a fiddle, and announced that "this was an old, old fiddle we gathered." He knew his fiddles. It was decided to present this to Hollywood White, next time we were relieved. Lt. Conley, an officer and a perfect gentleman, prevailed, by telling us the fiddle goes back to where it came from. Later, we moved 15 kilos further and unknown to Lt. Conley, the fiddle was stashed under a tarp in the trailer. Before leaving the house, the French returned and the owner of the house soon found the fiddle missing. We denied knowing anything about it and Lt. Conley allowed that someone else must have "histed" it. It was decided among us that it was best to return the fiddle and that whoever was left with the jeep would return it. Micciche and Asa Smith returned the fiddle, unknown to Lt. Conley. The Frenchman hugged Smith and Micciche and kissed both on the cheek. He was the happiest Frenchman in that village. When leaving, he presented both with a bottle of Cognac, which we later shared.

Hollywood never got his fiddle. Lt. Conley never knew that we in fact, stole the fiddle. He never questioned where we got the Cognac, to which we shared equally. In time, this was all forgotten. Micciche joined the Battery long after Hollywood had no fiddle to play. He only heard that Hollywood was a good fiddler and was more or less trying to boost morale, which at the time needed a boost.

Now more than forty years later, Micciche and West are dead, Asa Smith returned to his home town, and married the girl who sat in front of him in school and often got her long, curly hair dipped in the inkwell. Lt. Conley lives in Sioux City, Iowa; Omar Lewis is sunning himself in far West Texas, a place called Alpine. And as for me, I am in front of this battered machine, trying hard to remember some things forgotten so many years ago.

Hollywood White was last seen inside a German Chateau, where C. Battery was billeted, June 1945. No one claims to have seen him since. He once lived in Texas City, Dallas, Quanah, Burkburnett, and a place near Haltom City. Andrew Hejl and Amil Kohutek tracked him to an apartment, only to be two weeks too late. He left no forwarding address. I last saw Hollywood White sharing a stool in Germany, with Archie Harriett. Both were playing a piano together. Beautiful music, which proved that Hollywood could play something other than a fiddle.