Victory Road. Mark Bowlin
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Praise for The Texas Gun Club—2010 Winner Gold Medal Award, Military Writer’s Society of America
“The Texas Gun Club is an excellent WWII war novel—realistic, well-plotted, many actual events…. [It] describes the successes and failures of command and battle: friendly fire, poor communications, death, destruction, courage, and valor. It has found a place on my bookshelf…. I am looking forward to the author’s promised next novel in the series [Victory Road].”
Lee Boyland, Reviewer Military Writers Society of America (January 2010)
“The Texas Gun Club is a well-written account of a very real critical World War II battle. Only the characters are fictional. Careful attention to detail in weapons and equipment, as well as period ‘soldier slang,’ brings [characters] to life as real people that we might have known back in 1939…. The Texas Gun Club highlights one great tragic truth of warfare: Because of personal turbulence and logistic screwups, and despite unit lineage that may go back to the Revolution, we almost always fight the first battle with ad hoc organizations. The Salerno landing found the 36th Texas Division executing a difficult maneuver (establishing a lodgment on a distant defended shore) against an experienced, well-led commander (Field Marshal Kesslring), with precious little time and space to sort it out and get it right. A good read for those who would lead.”
MG Don Daniel, USA (Ret.) Former Commander, 49th Armored Division, TXARNG
“The Texas Gun Club is an absolutely superb book. The characters are incredibly realistic, as is the action and the storyline of the two cousins dovetailing through history. That it will be a series is refreshing, and I look forward to reading the next excerpt…. For a Navy guy, Commander Bowlin has a great handle on the Army. Time for him to get back to the next installment….”
BG Jack Grubbs, USA (Ret.) PhD, PE Author of Bad Intentions
“Bravo Zulu to Mark Bowlin for writing an exceptionally entertaining, interesting, and educational novel. I could hardly put the book down and found the narrative and story line just captivating…. I can’t wait to read the further adventures of The Texas Gun Club, and I’ll happily pass along this book as a great read to all those interested in history, Italy, military operations and, of course, just a good yarn!”
RDML Tony Cothron, USN (Ret.) Former Director of Naval Intelligence
“I found [The Texas Gun Club] a fantastic historical fiction that all members of the division should read. Having been a member of the 141st, it gave me a great sense of pride in the regiment and the 36th Division. I actually chose to have my regimental affiliation with the 141st after reading Commander Bowlin’s book….”
SGT Casey Mueller, TXARNG
Victory Road
A Texas Gun Club Novel
Commander Mark Bowlin, USN (Ret.)
Victory Road: A Texas Gun Club Novel Copyright © 2010 by Mark Bowlin
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.
Used by permission. Lyrics from “I Was a Cowboy” by
Mark B. Bowling. Copyright © 2005 by Mark B. Bowling.
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction.
Manufactured in the United States of America.
For information, please contact:
The P3 Press
16200 North Dallas Parkway, Suite 170
Dallas, Texas 75248
www.thep3press.com (972) 248-9500
A New Era in Publishing™
eISBN: 9781612547589
LCCN: 2010914022
Author contact information:
Commander Mark Bowlin, USN (Ret.)
Victory Road is dedicated to my wife,
Susan Bowlin—a beautiful, caring, and
extraordinarily tolerant lady.
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, I need to thank Susan and Alex for their support during the writing of Victory Road. Their patience and support makes my post-Navy experiment possible.
Many of my friends graciously consented to the use of their names for characters. I have to single out Toni Bernardi Rose; CAPT Doug Grossmann, USN; and CDR Mark Gerschoffer, USN, for special thanks. You’ll soon understand why.
Many generous people offered technical advice, editorial suggestions, and help in a multitude of ways. I would like to thank my primary readers, Stan Bowlin and CDR Bob Rose, USN (Ret.); as well as RDML Tony Cothron, USN (Ret.); CDR Rob “Two-Bit” Hoar, USN; Lt Col Frank Chawk III, USMC; Lt Cdr Robert Hawkins, MBE, RN; Capt Fin Jones, USMC (Ret.); SGT Casey Mueller, TXARNG; Cynthia Stillar; Mark Bowling; the Reverend Mike Allen, PhD; Andy and Ginger Eads; Cassie McQueenie-Tankard; James Clay; Wayne Foster; and Jeff Hunt with the Texas Military Forces Museum.
Prologue
September 22, 1943
2235 Hours
Naples, Italy
The waiter replaced the empty decanter of wine on the table and moved away quickly as if he had something important to attend to, although with the trattoria almost empty, he had nothing of consequence to occupy his time. The waiter had family in the Camorra who were hard men, but the waiter was not. He was terrified of German soldiers, particularly those who drank.
His only remaining diners were two German officers who wore the uniform of the army, and their arrival had presaged a rapid departure of his few Italian customers who were afraid of being conscripted into labor battalions. Better the Wehrmacht than the SS, but it made little difference if they were drunk, and the waiter was certain the two officers had been drinking before they came into the small trattoria. Whether they were drunk before or not was immaterial as they definitely were now. The two German officers alternated between vehement arguments and laughter—both punctuated by pounding on the table. The only thing worse than Germans in victory, he thought, were Germans in defeat.
They would not pay him for the vast quantity of food and wine that they had consumed, and he knew that he wouldn’t complain. It wasn’t safe to complain—all of Italy had heard the rumors of the barbaric behavior of their former ally since the surrender of Italy to the Americans and British.
Although the waiter could barely speak proper Italian—his cousins in Livorno claimed they could barely understand his Neapolitan dialect—he could speak almost passable English. The waiter, whose name was Luciano, had worked as a merchant seaman for years before the war, and during his time at sea, he had picked up bits and pieces of many languages. Luciano not only believed that the two men were speaking English, but he suspected that the German officers were speaking in American accents. He had left the sea at the first hint of war, and it had been so long since he had used the language that he wasn’t sure. Perhaps they were Dutch or Danish. Regardless, only the occasional word made sense