Yes, Tinker was a hoot to be around and we loved hearing his stories. Some sounded fantastical, but over the years he never wavered in the telling, and the facts remained consistent each time they were told.
There was another one from the Great War. They were about to cross a river in the Battle of the Bulge in tanks, one of which was to be driven by Tinker. During the pre-briefing they asked for volunteers to be in the first wave and Tinker's hand went up. A risk taker, Tinker said he always wanted to be the first into danger.
So the time came, and off they went to battle. Tinker went into great detail on the topography, enemy positions, and the difficulties they faced as they traversed the waterway. When they finally did get across, his tank was in front of everyone else's and he stepped on the gas to pick up speed. During this run toward the German defenses they were hit by mortar fire.
Tinker described the huge noise and bright flash as the tank was hit right where the turret was connected to the body of the vehicle. He, as the driver, was positioned down low, between the treads, so almost immediately experienced a rain of shrapnel from the exploded round, shredded tank parts, and body parts from his buddies that were in other parts of the tank. He was the only survivor.
After the initial shock of being hit, Tinker, once he realized that he was alive, knew he had to get out of there pronto. Through the newly-made hole created by the mortar round above him, he picked his way through the shredded mess, trying to avoid touching any flesh from his tankmates, one of whom was torn almost exactly in half.
Once they saw the movement of someone who'd survived, the Allies, who had been taking up the rear, engaged in a fierce firefight to cover for Tinker - and others from other crippled tanks - so he wouldn't be blown to bits as he struggled to exit. Finally he made it back to friendlier territory and lived to tell his stories to softies like us decades later.
One day while at Tinker's house he pulled out a box with some old medals, some of his own from wartime experiences and some from others. We were sitting on his living room floor when he pulled one out, explaining that when they liberated a town in Germany they were parading down the street, which was lined with thankful residents. One woman stopped him, and in appreciation a daughter that was with her gave him the medal that he'd handed me to look at. Turns out the girl was a twin, and the medal had been given to her personally by Adolf Hitler. He gave Teutonic twins these medals as awards for contributing doubly to the purity of the race that he sought to proliferate.
Another story he used to tell, one which interested me even more than his war stories, took place when he was a kid about six years of age. They were raised up in northeast Texas, and one day Tinker and his older brother were out shooting rabbits for the family supper when they chanced upon a couple with their car way out in the middle of nowhere. As they approached the clearing Tinker saw the man shaving, using the mirror of the car. The woman was leaning against the car looking at something in her hand (a pistol).
Tinker and his brother froze into place, watching and wondering who these people were, when after a minute or so the man noticed them standing there at the edge of the clearing. Suddenly he jerked up, face still half-covered with shaving cream. He opened the door of the car, pulled out a Tommy gun, and asked gruffly who they were and how did they get there?!? His female companion stared at them with mouth agape. Tinker's brother managed to peep that they were just out hunting rabbits, and the man replied that they had better get out of there NOW and if they said anything to anyone everyone would die. Both kids managed a hasty retreat and ran all the way back home.
When they told their mother what happened, she turned white and locked all the doors and windows, for none other than BONNIE AND CLYDE had just been robbing banks in the Dallas area!
These and many more stories, and all of the history that was locked into Tinker's experiences, prompted me to encourage him to either write them down or tape them verbally using a cassette recorder. He liked the idea, so one day I brought an old tape recorder to his house. We set up a studio of sorts in a closet, I turned the machine to record and started asking questions, beginning with early childhood. We anticipated doing a series of these for an undetermined length of time so were in no hurry to get to the war or some of the other events of his adulthood. Very unfortunately, however, after our first session Tinker's wife, Lena, got cold feed about the project and what it might do to him mentally, so it was ground to a halt after just the first one. Even today I cringe at the opportunity lost, but fortunately have been able to preserve that one recording.
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