Brigadier General W. H. Wilbur, USA
Assistant Division Commander

Assistant Commander of the 36th Infantry Division General Wilbur fought in North Africa and Italy, on the bloody Salerno beachhead, along the Rapido River, and in other historic engagements. For entering the French lines under fire at Casablanca and attempting to arrange an armistice to prevent further bloodshed on both sides, he was awarded the nation’s highest decoration for gallantry in action, the Medal of Honor. General Wilbur also wears the Silver Star, Legion of Merit, the Moroccan Ouissam Alaouite, and comparing ribbons of both World Wars — The Editor.

In WORLD WAR I the job of the infantry soldier was tough. The 1918 doughboy had to be virile and rugged. In the present war the doughboy’s job is even tougher, for during the past twenty-five years many new devices and improved weapons have been developed.

These new contrivances place in the hands of our troops weapons with which they can concentrate a seemingly annihilating fire on the enemy infantry.

In World War I our principal artillery piece was the 7-mm. gun. The 75 was very accurate, and it poured heavy concentrations on the 1918 edition of German infantry.

In 1944 we are using the 105-mm. howitzers our principal artillery weapon. It not only has a longer range, much heavier shell, and greater bursting radius, but, because it employs high-angle fire, it can get in behind hills, buildings, and other shelters where the 75 could not reach. The 105 is much more effective against Germans and Japs than was the 75.

Our infantry smothers the Jap or German infantry with mortar fire, delivered by mortars which are very much more accurate and which have a much greater range than the 1918 type.

We roll tanks over the Jap or the German, tanks that are so much more powerful in every way than those used in 1918 that they may almost be classed as a new weapon.

We use rifle and machine-gun fire to seek out the Jap opposing us. The bazooka and the flame thrower, coupled with mortar fire. Make bunkers and concrete pillboxes of limited value as shelter for the enemy infantryman. We throw hand grenades into the hole; here he seeks shelter. We try to weaken his will, to cow him, to make him give up, or to annihilate him.

And the Germans and Japs do the same to our infantry.

No other element of our armed forces takes the beating that we expect our doughboys to stand up under. Every new development — tanks, rocket guns, and dastardly box mines — adds to the burden of the indomitable doughboy.

In this, as in all past wars, soldiers and sailors measure their contribution by four considerations. First, by the degree of their isolation and loneliness; second, by the amount of physical discomfort they endure; third, by the amount of danger they undergo and last, by the amount of real aggressive fighting that they do.

Measured by any or all of these standards, the infantry soldier, the "doughboy," is in a class by himself and is pre-eminently entitled to the approbation of the people at home and the plaudits of his fellow soldiers.

War requires the combined and coordinated efforts of the whole Nation. Raw materials must be obtained, weapons and equipment must be fabricated, everything must be transported and finally used against the enemy.

All of these successive steps are essential to the accomplishment of the complete task. Any man or woman who participates in the great undertaking may feel with satisfaction that he or she is a sharer in our national accomplishment .

As we follow the unbroken chain of effort from farm or mine to the front-line doughboy, the job becomes increasingly uncomfortable, increasingly difficult, increasingly dangerous.

Through the years the infantry has changed and developed remarkably. As new dangers have arisen, the infantry has mastered them.

One could rightly marvel at the fact that the infantry has survived. It has done much more. It has dominated new developments and continued to be the decisive element of war.

In the Civil War whole regiments and sometimes brigades charged bravely, shoulder to shoulder, directly at an enemy position. That was standard procedure. Only the higher commanders used maneuver and envelopment.

General Stonewall Jackson is rightly credited with executing a brilliant maneuver at the Battle of Chancellorsville. He led his entire force around the flank and struck unexpectedly. Today it is normal for a squad or a platoon to do this same thing.

No longer does the squad go forward as a portion of a massed company bravely led by the captain. Now the platoon may be alone in a zone of action formerly considered appropriate for a battalion.

The leader must take advantage of every fold in the ground, must foresee hostile fire and the effect of hostile fire, must set up his own base of fire to support and cover the maneuver of the riflemen around the flank or perhaps even against the enemy’s rear.

Just as he gets his maneuver well started, the enemy may strike his maneuvering unit on the flank. It is a struggle of wits, a succession of situations which are always different. It demands calm, rapid thinking. That is why only men of high intelligence can fully shoulder the heavy responsibility of leading a rifle squad or a rifle platoon.

Many other arms operate by groups and thus have the psychological strength that group effort gives. If infantry is massed or grouped, it commits suicide.

When we consider the mental strain of battle, the effect of the constant pressure of hostile artillery fire, the constant presence of danger, and the daily visit of death, without question the infantry soldier is a person apart.

Hundreds of times I have marveled at his spirit. I remember, just before we attempted to cross the Rapido River in Italy, I talked with a fine infantry leader who had repeatedly performed acts of bravery and who had recently been decorated with the Silver Star.

A few hours before the assault, he told me of his plans and said, "You know, sir, General Walker awarded me the Silver Star the other day. When I think of the number of our men who have given their lives bravely and have received no decoration, I feel how unworthy I am to wear that Silver Star. Today I am going in there and really earn it!"

Twenty-four hours later his body was sprawled on the barbed wire in the very heart of the German position — a grenade still clenched in his hand. He had died at the head of the assault troops.

The infantry soldiers who have been in combat will carry something with them for the rest of their lives. Their minds will be seared with memories that will never leave them. I noticed a picture strip the other day in which a little boy was asking his father, "Daddy, why don’t you ever tell me about Tarawa?" The answer was that Tarawa brought up too many grim memories, too many thoughts of comrades who had given their all.

Many other boys will be asking their fathers, "Why don’t you tell me about the Rapido?" "About Cassino?" "About Anzio?" "About the landing in France?" "About Saipan?" The memories of those and other bloody conflicts will haunt them for years.

When we consider the need for mental keenness, the need for constant alertness, the ability to act with split-second timing, again the infantry soldier must be tops. Members of rear elements can make mistakes of judgment or can fail to be alert, and they will live to tell of it. Too frequently such is not the case with the doughboy.

I remember seeing a rifle soldier going forward across a relatively open stretch of ground. He was crouching forward — the picture of alertness. Suddenly a shell struck within a few feet of his left foot and he was swallowed up in a black cloud. I thought sadly, "Another fine young man gone."

Suddenly, out of the cloud dashed that same doughboy. He had beaten that first shell to the ground and then was up and away. He wasn’t going to be in that spot when the next salvo hit.

Many infantry soldiers are not so lucky. They receive wounds that they will carry through life. The treacherous new German box mine is made to blow off a man’s foot. The infantry soldier is much more likely to carry the scars of combat with him to his grave than are the soldiers of any other arm or service.

It is very American to be proud of our sons, our relatives, our friends. The place where they serve in the armed forces is of little importance. We are proud of all of them, and rightly so, for each one is making a contribution to our great national effort.

We know that every man and woman who is in our armed forces, and who is doing his assigned job as well as he can, is doing his share. But I am sure every one of them will agree that the doughboy does definitely more than his share.

The contribution the men make is shared by their loved ones. Let us not forget that the mothers and fathers, the wives of infantrymen - they too make an outstanding contribution.

From the standpoint of comfort, food, and living conditions, there can be no question that the doughboy and the loyal attached "medics" carry a heavy burden. To be wet, muddy, and tired is normal. Not that the infantry soldier is the only soldier who gets muddy. The artillery struggles and works in the mud, and the engineers live in the mud for days at a time.

During the first winter in Africa the airfields at Oran and Algiers were muddy landing strips surrounded by a lake of mud six inches to a foot deep. The difference is that, while others may have to stand, walk, or work in the mud, the doughboy has to stand in it, walk in it, eat in it, lie in it, and frequently die in it.