Jesse Bier

photo courtesy of Jesse Bier	photo by Thais Boise
Jesse Bier came home with a French war bride and a sense of humor the war couldn't kill.	Retired University of Montana English professor Jesse Bier recounts his experience crossing the Rhine River into Germany during World War II.

Living through war
with luck and a laugh

by Joseph Friedrichs
Veterans History Project

The American soldiers huddled on the top of the small hill, looking down on the bridge where the enemy might be headed, knowing silence would be the key to success. The 309th Regiment, 78th Division was not moving a muscle, taking in only short, silent breaths the European air. All American eyes focused on the curve in the road directly before the bridge.

The Germans could be coming around that corner at any second. They all knew it, but could only wait, still and silent.

In the midst of World War II, the possibility of violent combat was all too real. Suddenly the troops heard something approaching; their alertness reached its climax.

After a brief moment the perpetrator emerged. It was a dog! He came around the turn and trotted straight to the bridge. With a wag of his tail, the dog relieved the tension.

“Then we heard a click of the safety on someone's gun go off,” said Jesse Bier, a World War II veteran from New Jersey and a member of that 78th Division. "So here we were, our soldiers ready and one of the group says, ‘Here comes the first one making like a dog, the rest of the pack will follow.’ Well we just all lost it. If there had been Germans following they would have known our position, but he couldn't resist the joke.”

photo by Thais Boise

Using humor as a source of inspiration, Bier also saw the serious side of war in Europe.

The theater of war is more known for drama than for comedy. But like many others, Bier found strength through humor while serving in Europe from 1943 to 1946.

“Being in the war was a strong experience, exciting as it was fearful,” he said. “But there were moments of comedy even in combat.”

His tales of finding fun in simple routines show that Bier never lost his wild heart overseas.

“I took a whole column of my company down a cul-de-sac, walking them right into a wall,” he recalled with a smile. "Then I got them turned about face, facing me, and very excitedly a number in the front are pointing behind me. And I said, 'Don’t give me any of that the captain is behind me, I’m not falling for that.' Well, I should have, because he was behind me. My promotion from staff sergeant to troop sergeant was not forthcoming after that!”

Starting his military career on anti-aircraft defense on the East Coast, Bier’s job was to help troops protect the coast from possible attack. He did this through plane identification lessons to the soldiers. He served as corporal for the AAA command during this time.

“I was also supposed to coach our troops in keeping their mouths shut,” Bier said. “To anybody, when they were out drinking in a tavern or anywhere. We were supposed to share no information related to the military, mainly ship departures out of New York. So I did as humorous a job in all these capacities as I could, to entertain as well as inform.”

Once he was sent to Europe, no matter how hard Bier and the other American soldiers tried, the war was not always a laughing matter.

“Our lieutenant told us how to feel. In essence we were programmed how to feel,” Bier said. “And we were not to worry about the ups and downs of our emotions. It amused me how they thought we were going to uniformly feel. But I did not feel the way he told me I would. In combat I didn’t feel that much fright as I thought I would. I felt excitement.”

photo by Thais Boise

Professor Bier has written several books including "A Hole in the Lead Apron," a fiction book based loosely on his accounts of World War II.

In heavy combat, soon after crossing the Rhine River from France into Germany, Bier was wounded when a bazooka shell exploded on the tank where he was mounted. Bier refers to the crossing of the Rhine as a miniature D-Day operation.

“I was fighting a line of Germans hiding in a forest using tracer bullets, and out of the corner of my eye, in a split second, I saw something," he said. "It was a bazooka shell and exploded on the tank, and exploded into my face. I was shot in the face. My wound was both horrendous and not serious. My face was shredded but no bones were broken.”

Coming into Europe was not Bier’s biggest fear, even though he was near certain he would face heavy combat.

“I was afraid of spending more years in the army as an officer, more afraid of military life, more bored by it, than I was afraid of combat,” he said.

But like any soldier trapped in a comedian’s body, Bier would rather focus on the humor.

“I remember we were summoned to formation, under review of the colonel himself. The colonel, who will remain unnamed, was suffering from battle fatigue," Bier said. "He was watching us from his jeep, and as we were reporting, a German farmer with a team of oxen crossed between us and our officers. This infuriated our colonel and he jumped off the jeep screaming, 'Get that goddamn Nazi cow out of this formation!' ”

The terrified farmer stopped dead in his tracks, along with his oxen. “So the colonel is screaming and ranting, two men are each pulling on opposite oxen not realizing they were attached by a piece of wood," Bier said. "The two men come crashing down unable to help the situation; it was like something out of a movie. The colonel grabs out his guns screaming he was going to shoot the cows, but finally the got it cleared up. All of this was as humorous as it was mysterious, but it was enormous fun!”

While stationed in Europe, Bier met a French woman whom he later married. The couple eventually moved to Montana. Bier taught English at the University for 35 years before he retired in1990.

Bier's memories of the war remain fresh. He helped defend the ports of New York. He traveled through France all the way to deep Germany, facing a fierce enemy along the way. He was wounded. He watched friends lose their lives. But kept his heart and mind through it all.

"My finest moment in all of my military service came when I left Berlin for my new post," he said. "My squad escorted me down to the train, and they didn’t have to. And we said our farewells, one or two of them weepingly, those I had served with in strong combat. This was a tribute to me from these men I will never forget. And no finer honor did I ever receive in my entire life than that.”

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