Of all of the World War Two veterans of the 10th Mountain Division, perhaps none recounted their stories with as much humility and endearing honesty as Horton Durfee. In interviews and in his self-published book ‘World War II Memoirs of Horton K Durfee: 1943-1946,’ his accounts are infused with humor and with a full admission of all of his shortcomings in a way that is deeply human. He talked openly about times when he was selfish, when he could have done courageous things that he did not do, and about the helplessness of giving first aid to a man shot through the heart who he knew was already dead. It provides a refreshing self-acknowledgment of the frailty and limitations of men whose deeds and reputation have become the stuff of legend.
Horton Durfee grew up in Geneva, New York, and left his education at Syracuse at Auburn to enlist. After basic training he requested to be assigned to the 10th Light Division. He thought he would be going to Colorado to learn how to ski, and was surprised and disappointed that his orders sent him to Texas. He was nineteen when he joined L Company of the 86th Mountain Infantry Regiment at Camp Swift. On one of his first days with the unit, he found himself in trouble with the commander.
One morning shortly after breakfast, word came that the company was to fall out for inspection in five minutes. Inspection meant hair combed, clean shaven, clean clothes, polished combat boots, and a clean rifle. I was able to manage all but the last item. I thought I had become pretty proficient at this task, but never had I needed to clean my rifle in such a short time. I did the best I could, but I didn’t have time to clean the barrel, and that was always checked. As the captain came down the line checking barrel after barrel, I grew more and more scared as I wondered what my punishment would be. I didn’t know the captain at all, wasn’t even aware he knew I existed, and had no idea how he would react.
The captain finally came to me and I handed him my rifle. As he looked down the barrel he stiffened a bit, then looked at me and asked, “Did you clean your barrel?” “No, Sir,” I replied. “Why not?” “I didn’t have time, Sir.” Turning to the First Sergeant, who was trailing along behind him, Captain Bailey said, “Put this man on KP over the weekend, and restrict him to the base next weekend as well.” My heart sank…
He was similarly punished for a number of other minor infractions by 1st Sgt Bill Brown, but he rapidly gained the respect of comrades and commanders alike, such that he was made the Company Bugler/Messenger. He went into combat operations in Italy where he went on scouting missions, delivered messages and ran radio operations. He spent one grueling night in a snowstorm, lost in no man’s land trying unsuccessfully to locate a lost patrol. He returned in shame and flopped on his bunk in instant sleep. He awoke the next morning well past reveille, and began to panic at the trouble he would be in. Unbeknownst to Durfee, the lost patrol had returned safely not long after he was sent out to look for them, and he had been allowed to sleep in. Soon, 1st Sgt Brown appeared carrying a tray. He had come to serve him breakfast in bed!
It was in his capacity as radio operator that he was able to bring a little bit of joy into the discomfort and fear of life at the front.
One night when I was manning the switchboard, a call came in from somewhere and I heard music in the background – Glenn Miller, for heaven’s sake! I made the requested connection but when the call was finished I rang the second party and asked if they had heard the music. Yes, they had. I then rang the calling party and, yes, when they answered, I heard music. Apparently someone either had a radio or else a record player. I thought a bit, then plugged in the line to one of the outposts and rang their bell. They got music. I connected several other people to the original source and had music going out all over the place. Wonderful! Of course, if a legitimate call came in, I had to quickly pull all the cords, but reconnected music to listeners when the coast was clear. I was a hero, almost a genius…
Durfee provided detailed and gripping accounts of the attack on Monte Belvedere and of holding the line in preparation for the next push. During that push, on March 3, 1945 the column was hit by a short artillery barrage during a halt to eat lunch. Horton Durfee was severely wounded by shrapnel. He would spend over a year recovering from his wounds and from the series of surgeries that followed. He left a detailed and sorrowful account of life in Army hospitals, hallucinating and trying to forgive himself for not losing any limbs. It was in a hospital in the United States that he was finally tracked down by his old unit commander.
One morning a few days after the operation on my leg, I returned to my ward. I was lying on my bed and discussing with my three buddies what I would be capable of doing once I was able to get about on my crutches.
All at once, and without warning, an unfamiliar voice sounded from the doorway, “’TENSION!” Automatically, I sat bolt upright in bed and snapped a salute as I looked toward the doorway. What was this all about? Inspection? We never had inspection, at least nothing so formal. A sergeant I didn’t know entered the room followed by – – Captain Bailey! I gaped in astonishment. What was he doing here? How did he know where I was? How had he found me? Why had he come? I knew I wasn’t ready to go back to my Company. Meanwhile the sergeant, followed by Captain Bailey and a third soldier I didn’t recognize, came to the foot of my bed. The sergeant handed the Captain a sheet of paper from which he read a brief citation. The third soldier handed him a little box. Inside was a Purple Heart medal which the Captain pinned on my bathrobe.
But that wasn’t all, for then, Captain Bailey stepped back and took from the sergeant another sheet of paper and read yet another citation. Following that, he pinned a Bronze Star next to the Purple Heart. I was dumbfounded, for I could think of absolutely nothing I had done to warrant earning that medal. The Purple Heart, yes. I had earned that, all right, but a Bronze Star? I had done nothing heroic, nothing that could be considered “meritorious achievement.” I was speechless at first, then recovered enough to thank Captain Bailey, who shook my hand, nodded, turned, and left the room followed by the other two soldiers, neither of whom I ever saw again.
When he joined the company, Horton Durfee found himself repeatedly in trouble with the Captain and with 1st Sgt Bill Brown. He could not have known that in the coming months one would come to his bedside to serve him breakfast, and the other would come to pin medals on him. The war ended before he was able to return to his unit.
After recovering from his wounds, he went back to school. He finished college and got a master’s degree in Botany from Cornell University. He taught science, chemistry and biology in Connecticut and New York. He married Jean Feidner, and they had four children. He maintained a range of hobbies from model railroading to beekeeping and wine-making. Durfee remained in contact with many veterans of the 10th, including Captain Bailey, whom he visited at his home on several occasions. Jean died in a car accident in 1988, and Horton was remarried to Shirley Kiepper. They moved to a retirement community in Ithaca, New York. Horton passed away on May 20, 2017 at the age of 91.
Horton Durfee sat down with Charles Sanders in 2007 to make a video-taped oral history. It is kept in the 10th Mountain Division archives at the Denver Public Library. Through great effort, all of their oral histories are now available for viewing on youtube.
This blog is part of a larger body of research culminating in the publication of the book ‘Heroes in Good Company: L Company, 86th Regiment, 10th Mountain Division 1943-1945’ which is available in select bookstores and on amazon.
Sources:
Durfee, Horton K. 2007. Interview. Italy. May. Interview C MSS OH 274, 10th Mountain Division Collection, Oral Histories, Denver Public Library, Denver, CO.
_____. Letter to author, 2015.
_____. World War II Memoirs of Horton K Durfee 1943-1946. Self-published, 1998.
_____. Horton K. Durfee Obituary. Accessed December 1, 2018. https://www.legacy.com/obituaries/timesunion-albany/obituary.aspx?pid=185683536
