Not Ready To Die
Stories of Ignacio (Nacho) Ramirez Vasquez
As Told To Nila Gott
Dedicated to the 517th Paratroopers
Airborne Always
Copyright, 2010 Nila Gott
ISBN 978-0-0619376-3-8
Published by Nila Gott at Smashwords
The 517th was one of the most challenged paratrooper outfits in World War II. It was a regimental combat team sent to where they were most needed. They were formed in 1943 and were in continual combat for 180 days. They were often moved from one division to another and made a heroic jump into Southern France, some of them landing from 250 feet.
The 517th Regimental Combat Team was awarded 1,576 purple hearts. Many troopers received more than one bronze star, and the French and Belgian governments issued the entire 517th commendations. Their courageous exploits are told in several books and their web site.
www.prct517.home.attbi.com
Nacho was a member of the 517th Parachute Regimental Combat Team
Headquarters 3rd Battalion Company Heavy Mortar Platoon #39858106
Medals Awarded
Five Campaign Stars
Good Conduct Ribbon and Medal
American Theatre Medal
French Croix de Guerre
Belgium Croix de Guerre
Two Faced Lady
Now
don’t you call her
A two-faced lady.
But
I know from personal experience
That she has two faces.
We were going to faraway places
To fight a war we didn’t start.
Some of us were nervous
But we all had a lot of pride.
As
we were leaving the harbor
She seemed to be holding the torch
Out
in front of her face
So we couldn’t see her cry.
For she knew
as we did, that for some of us,
It would be a last good-bye.
Italy, France, Belgium, and
Germany.
We fought for what seemed forever.
And finally the day
arrived
When we were to come back home
And see the lady’s
other side.
As
we approached the harbor,
She seemed to be pushing the torch
As
high as she could into the sky
With the biggest smile on her
face
It would make any soldier want to cry.
Nacho Vasquez
The Early Years
The Family
Both my mother and father were born in Mexico, probably in Sonora, because that’s where the Yaqui Indians lived. My father, Silverio, was 29 when I was born in 1923, and my mother, Marcos, was 26. I was the second in the family, my sister Mary being the firstborn.
It is a Mexican tradition to use the mother’s maiden name for the children’s middle name. Therefore we all had the middle name of Ramirez. Soto was my mother’s middle name, which was her mother’s maiden name. Whew!
We have never been able to find a birth or death certificate for my father. He came across the border at El Paso between the years 1914 and 1918. It is unknown if my mother and father married before or after they crossed into the United States. My mother was half-Spanish and half-Indian, although we don’t know the tribe. My father was full-blooded Yaqui.
Most Yaquis resided in eight towns in Sonora, Mexico, and were Christianized by Spanish missionaries in the 1500s. The Spaniards and Mexicans warred with the Yaquis, and enslaved them for work in the fields, so in the early 1900s, they slowly migrated to Texas and Arizona. They became free laborers, some crossing every day into El Paso. Many were given permission to live and work in the United States for the Southern Pacific Railroad, as happened with my father.
We lived in a railroad car that was part of a Section of eight or so other families. My mother hung a curtain in the middle of the car to partition the bedroom from the living area. Three of us children slept in a single bed made of crates, and crates were also used for tables, chairs, and other furniture.
We had a wood stove for heating and cooking, but no electricity or water. Washing was done at a nearby pump, and teeth were scrubbed with soap and water.
Peter came along two years after me, followed by Agapita, who died around the age of twelve. I was young, and didn’t know what her illness was, but she had been sick for several months. Rumaldo was born in 1931.
My father received only one paper check from the railroad. Workers had to use the “company store” to purchase their groceries and other items. A man from the railroad would come to the Section and take down the families’ orders. They would be delivered a week later, and charged to the store. My father was never out of debt to Southern Pacific as his family kept growing.
To help make ends meet, my mother washed and ironed for the owner of a nearby ranch, Mrs. Jernigan. Washing was done at the community pump, and the iron was heated on the wood stove.
Sometime after Rumaldo was born, my mother became pregnant again. However, as her time approached, a country doctor was sure that the baby was breech. My mother was in agony while in labor, and the doctor decided he could turn the baby by stomping on her stomach. The baby was born dead.
My father collapsed on the track one day and they sent him home. Since he couldn’t work, the family was no longer allowed to live in the boxcar, so a house was rented in Deming, New Mexico. My mother continued to wash and iron for the ranch, and I continued to deliver milk, and soon after, I went to live on the Jernigan’s ranch. The move to Deming gave the family electricity and running water.
After I had been living on the Jernigan’s ranch for a while, my father was sent to the Southern Pacific Hospital in San Francisco, a hospital especially for their railroad workers.
Life went on without him. I gave my mother what little money I could from my earnings at the ranch, and both Peter and Rumaldo picked cotton and potatoes throughout those early years. Peter always worked hard to bring money into the home.