D. Clarke Evans Photographer

Albert Mackay

Private First Class, U.S. Army
1943-1946

Pvt. Albert Mackay
New York, NY, 1943

              I’m proud of my service, but there’s so much I don’t remember about it. Big black holes… nothing.

I was born in Manhattan, New York in 1924. My dad worked for the New York City public school system and my mother was a hat designer—a milliner. I went to high school at Peekskill Military Academy and was there when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. My dad went into the Merchant Marine and got torpedoed going from Cuba to Florida in 1942.

I graduated in 1943 as a cadet captain and went right in the Army. I had training in 40mm anti-aircraft and was the elevation gun pointer. Everybody was then transferred to the infantry and we went overseas. I was in the 80th Infantry in Europe. The other day a VA man asked if any of us remembered eating or going to the bathroom. I didn’t remember eating anything anytime. I know we used to steal the 5-in-1 rations from the tankers and leave them the C’s. The 5’s had cigarettes, bacon and butter.

I got hit in Germany in March, 1945. Three of us went to pick up replacements. The replacements all grouped together, and we told them to spread out so they wouldn’t all get killed. We went through a big field and then back into some woods, and the Germans sneaked back and started shooting a machine gun at us. I grabbed a bazooka, wired it and rolled out where I could see the road. I was shot in the left hand and was lucky the bazooka didn’t go off. A half-track came out on the road with the back open. I rolled out upside down and just squeezed it and I couldn’t have aimed any better. It went in the back door and blew those bastards up.

They wrapped my hand with the dirt still in it. At the hospital the doctors were going to amputate my arm. I had an infection four fingers above my elbow. I asked a new doctor named Brody if he’d take me as his first patient. I figured he’d take my arm off above the elbow and it would be a stub, but he saved my arm. He debrided the wound, shaved off pieces and soaked it in liquid. I got penicillin every three hours. The day Japan surrendered I was in a hospital ship coming back to the States. I was scheduled to be operated on in six weeks at the hospital in Cleveland. One day, here comes Dr. Brody, he had just got there. I asked him to take me as his patient. Two days later I was scheduled for the operation.

I got out of the Army in August,1946. My rank was PFC. I was a corporal for about ten days but had a run in with a damned lieutenant who was always sending people to check things out. I was scouting ahead with this lieutenant when a German came running and he said, ‘Shoot him!’ I did. They started coming out all over with their hands up. The lieutenant told me to guard them and if any of them moved, to shoot him. Then he disappeared. A bunch of our guys came and took them away. They told me to wait for the lieutenant. I waited and waited. A couple of Germans found me, and I thought they were going to kill me. Then the lieutenant came with some guys and they started shooting back and forth. I chewed him out for leaving me there to be killed. He said it was too late to come back to get me. I called him a bunch of names and picked up a rifle and told him I was going to shoot him. I was busted.

When I got out, I went to Syracuse University and got a degree in mechanical engineering. I worked at Corning Glass Works for three years. Then I got a job at Creole Petroleum in Venezuela from 1954 to 1970. I was head of mechanical engineering at the refinery. After that I worked for Fluor Corporation doing refinery work, and then for another Venezuelan company. I retired in 1985.

My worst day in the Army was when they wanted to amputate my arm. My best day was the day I saw Dr. Brody come down the hall. I’m proud of my service, but there’s so much I don’t remember about it. Big black holes… nothing. {11-21-2019 • Corpus Christi, TX}