The Duke and his beloved Geronimo
This is the story of Geronimo and the soldiers who contended
with him. It happened a long time ago.
On a crisp October afternoon in 1954, the men of the 510th Tank
Battalion, quartered in Sullivan Barracks near Mannheim, Germany,
stood at attention in dress uniform as a truck pulled up in front
of battalion headquarters and a band played
”
The Girl I Left Behind Me.
”
The Duke and his beloved Geronimo
This is the story of Geronimo and the soldiers who contended with him. It happened a long time ago.
On a crisp October afternoon in 1954, the men of the 510th Tank Battalion, quartered in Sullivan Barracks near Mannheim, Germany, stood at attention in dress uniform as a truck pulled up in front of battalion headquarters and a band played “The Girl I Left Behind Me.”
The driver opened the back of the truck and led a male bison, the only one in Germany, down the ramp. Geronimo had arrived after a trans-Atlantic flight and a truck trip from Frankfurt.
It was the idea of The Duke, not the real name of a particular second lieutenant, but so called because he emulated John Wayne as much as any slight-bodied man could.
It was he who constantly reminded us that the 510th originally had been the 10th Cavalry, formed after the Civil War, and had valiantly fought Apaches. It was he who yelled “Saddle Up!” as we prepared to mount our tanks for a road march. It was said that he sometimes addressed fellow junior officers as “Pilgrim.”
We wore miniature buffalo pins on our caps, and yellow scarves denoting the Cavalry when on guard duty but Duke sought more glorious ways to display our proud heritage.
Somehow he learned that the Allentown Game Preserve in Pennsylvania had buffalo – bison really – that it would provide to good homes. Duke persuaded the senior officers of the morale potential, and wheels started turning.
We learned right away that Geronimo’s presence entailed another guard station, and therefore more guard duty. We became the first soldiers in 75 years to have a close acquaintance with buffalo chips, which Geronimo produced regularly in astonishing quantity.
We soon became inured to being greeted as “buffalo soldiers” by men from other units, along with rare gems of wit concerning buffalo chips.
When we went on maneuvers, soldiers of outfits garrisoned nearby felt it incumbent upon them to kidnap Geronimo. They did several times and each time we had to retrieve him, usually at the cost of bloody noses for rescuers and captors.
One night the following spring I was walking guard duty around his roofed corral when the clouds opened and the rain poured down. I stepped inside for the protection of the roof and Geronimo soon followed me, so closely he kept bumping into my legs. After vainly admonishing him, “Bad Geronimo” several times, I unslung my carbine and gently tapped him on the head. A bison’s skull is inches thick and covered with dense fur so it couldn’t hurt him. But after a few minutes of reflection he decided he was offended and sat with his back to me until my tour of guard duty was over.
A few years after returning to civilian life, I read that Geronimo had been given to the Frankfurt Zoo, which housed the only female bison in Germany. I never learned what became of The Duke.
