CHEROKEE, North Carolina — Playing in the woods came naturally to Reuben Taylor, who grew up in the mountains of the Cherokee Indian Reservation in western North Carolina in the 1930s.
“There was nothing to do back when I was growing up,” Taylor, 94, told the Washington Examiner in an interview at the American Legion Steve Young Deer Post 143, not far from his home in Bird Town, Cherokee.
“We used to climb the trees and swing over to another tree, back and forth,” he said in a soft and measured tone.
Taylor’s lack of fear of heights would serve him well as an original member of the 82nd Airborne Division. The paratrooper infantry division was founded in 1942, shortly after he joined the U.S. Army at age 16 at the height of World War II.
Taylor denies it, but other Cherokees say the Eastern Band have a special sensitivity to the woods of the mist-shrouded terrain known as the Smoky Mountains.
Some 300-400 Cherokees hid in its steep valleys and dense forests to evade forced relocation to Oklahoma in 1838.
The generations who followed would become the Eastern Band of the Cherokee Indians, and Taylor was a direct descendant.
Taylor’s comrades likely knew little of this story when they chose him to lead a patrol into the thick Ardennes forest in Belgium in December. The seemingly impenetrable woods formed the Allies’ eastern front.
“Well, I guess it was ’cause I was Indian, they thought I could get ’em in there,” he said of the assignment to deliver a message during the Battle of the Bulge.
The final German offensive sought to break through the woods and divide the Allies.
The Nazi campaign consisted of 410,000 men and over 1,400 tanks in a highly risky maneuver that targeted a front line protected by American troops on Dec. 16, 1943.
After the surprise attack, Taylor’s 504th Infantry Regiment had arrived to reinforce those fighting to stem the Nazi advance.
That’s when Taylor was selected to lead the patrol.
“Well, I did get ’em in there,” he said. “That was good hiding. You could get behind one tree and then another as you was going.”
Leading the party into the woods meant he could be at the rear on the exit. But by then, the Germans had detected the party and began shooting.
Taylor was hit in the left leg under the kneecap while running away, but he kept running and escaped to safety.
The 16 days in the Battle of the Bulge in the winter of 1944-1945 were tougher than his 73 days behind enemy lines during Operation Market Garden in the Netherlands, Taylor said.
The snow in Belgium was 2-3 feet thick in some areas. He was cold. His boots were wet.
“The trees were loaded down with snow,” he said.
Taylor closed his eyes to remember.
“Your rifle’s cold,” he recalled. “But what do you think when there’s a muzzle of a rifle between you and the enemy, how would you feel?”
No amount of cold or fear prevented him from using that rifle.
“When a man says he’s scared, I don’t know whether that’s true or not,” he said. “‘Cause I was scared, but I didn’t let it affect my ability to shoot.”
Taylor was an expert marksman by the time he left the Army.
His ability to survive the bloodiest American battle of World War II, as well as combat during Operation Torch in North Africa and Market Garden in the Netherlands still bewilders him.
“I was just lucky, I guess,” Taylor said with a laugh.
Pfc. Taylor jumped more than 80 times during his five years of service, including behind enemy lines during Operation Market Garden. His numerous decorations include a Bronze Star and Purple Heart.
He is most proud of his Combat Infantry Badge, earned after 90 days in combat.
“I was young, I guess. I was young and didn’t think about much,” he said when asked about all the travel and experiences he had soon after a recruiter visited the Cherokee Boarding School where he was educated.
“Just like I didn’t think about going into the service. I just went. I went because the rest of ’em were going,” he said.
Taylor said he “left it there,” of his war memories.
Painful thoughts included the two foxhole buddies who were killed at his side and the bodies he saw float down the Waal River as bullets rained on him while trying to take a Nazi-held bridge before it was detonated.
Returning home had its costs. The white liquor he drank since the age of 6 was at his disposal.
Only one day 40-plus years after the war, in 1989, did Taylor stop drinking.
“I just run out. And that was the last I didn’t drink no more,” he said. “I guess it’s coming to a stopping place.”
Taylor has been dry the 32 years since, a time when he has opened up and told the stories of his service to his Cherokee brethren.
The soft-spoken Taylor perked up when asked about the military service of Native Americans. He carefully chose his words and enunciated them with the strength of a young soldier.
“That’s the way of the Indian, he’ll go!” he said. “In time of war, the Indian’s ready to go.”
