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796th Military Police Battalion
Vienna Command
Looking for more information from military/civilian personnel assigned to or associated with the U.S. Forces, Austria from 1945 to 1955. If you have any stories or thoughts on the subject, please contact me . |
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Bezirk Stations, Vienna |
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(Source: "796th Military Police Bn, 1947-1948 Yearbook", courtesy Mike Keefe) |
A Night at a Bezirk Station |
My impressions of work in a Bezirk Station were somewhat vague the first night I reported for work as Assistant Desk Sergeant.
I had been assigned on the Duty Roster to the 9th Bezirk, and I had a vision of twelve hours of monotonous work.
Therefore, I had prepared for the situation by fortifying myself with a number of magazines and a writing tablet. "At least," I thought, "I'll get some letters written before the night's over."
The Desk Sergeant was Sgt Samuel D. Coleman, quiet, smartly-uniformed, and a soldier who presented the perfect impression of what an efficient Military Policeman should look like.
The Driver, Pfc Ernest S. Melling, was a clean-shaven youth of nineteen, who I later learned had been driving the Station's jeep for some months already, and knew his job well.
The Interpreter was an Austrian civilian named John Whitman, who had lived in the United States years ago. |
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![](M_Keefe/1st Bezirk Station.jpg)
1st Bezirk Station |
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"You like this job?" I asked Coleman.
"I should," he answered, "I've been working at it for the past two years."
"How is it that you've worked here?" I demanded. "This isn't the only Bezirk Station in Vienna."
"Well, in the first place," he answered, "there are more people jammed together in this Bezirk than in any of the others, and there's usually more action around here."
Coleman tilted the back of his chair against the wall, bracing his right foot against the desk. "How many people've got in this Bezirk?" he asked the interpreter.
"Oh, approximately a hundred and forty thousand," Whitman answered. |
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![](M_Keefe/7th and 8th Bezirk Station.jpg)
7th & 8th Bezirk Station |
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"Yeah," Coleman continued, turning to me, "that's about right. And out of that bunch, there's always some guy beating his wife, a drunk assaulting someone, or a G.I. being robbed. You wait a couple of hours until it gets dark. We'll get our share of trouble, don't worry."
"And especially on a Saturday night after pay-day," Melling put in.
For a while everything was going smoothly. Whitman was staring out through the plateglass window at the people passing in the street. Coleman was busy with the crossword puzzle in the Stars and Stripes, and Melling was napping in a chair in a corner of the room. I was immersed in my third comic magazine, when suddenly the door opened and an Austrian civilian stumbled through the entrance. We could see from his stance and the blood on his jacket, that he had been hurt. Whitman and Melling grabbed the man as he was about to fall and put him gently onto a chair. Coleman ran into the other room and returned quickly with water, with which he began wiping the blood away from the Austrian's face.
"Ask him who clubbed him, Whitman," Coleman told the interpreter, who began to extract information from the man.
After a couple of minutes, Whitman turned to us. "This man tells me he was walking down Nussdorferstrasse, when a man suddenly hit him with something and ran away."
"Can he identify his assailant?" I asked the interpreter. |
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![](M_Keefe/9th Bezirk Station.jpg)
9th Bezirk Station |
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Whitman questioned the man further, then turned to us shaking his head. "He says it was too dark to see who it was."
"Well," Coleman said scratching his head, "it's too late now to look for the guy. We can't get a description, and by now, whoever it was, has gotten away. Melling, you and Whitman take the man to the civilian hospital. It doesn't look serious, just a nasty blow."
Melling and Whitman helped the Austrian into the jeep and drove off. "I'll show you how to keep the desk plotter up to date," he said to me sitting down in front of the typewriter.
Fifteen minutes later, Melling and the interpreter returned.
When they entered the Station, I asked them, "How is the old man?"
"He's O.K.," Melling answered, "nothing serious." |
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![](M_Keefe/17th & 18th Bezirk Station.jpg)
17th & 18th Bezirk Station |
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The Bezirk Station settled down but this time it wasn't for long. It was almost eleven o'clock, when the door opened again and a G.I. came rushing into the Station.
"You in charge here?" he asked addressing me.
"No," I answered, pointing to Coleman, "he is. Why? Something the matter?"
"You guessed it, all right!" he said breathlessly. "I'm in the 63rd Signal outfit up there past the Gurtel. . . I was going to the movie. On a dark street two Austrians jumped me. . . before I could do anything, they had me down. . . one of them had a knife and threatened to kill me, if I didn't give him my watch. . . They took the watch and took off down the street."
"Hold on a minute," Coleman interrupted. "You say they attacked you and stole your watch?"
"That's right," the G.I. answered.
"Could you identify them, if you saw them?"
"Well, it was dark, but I know one of them had a long scar on his right cheek."
"How could you see the scar if it was dark?" Coleman put in.
"There was a street light which shone partly on his face. . . Listen, I'd know that bastard anywhere."
"Anything else that can help to identify them? How about the way they talked?"
"Come to think of it, they didn't talk German at all. . . sounded to me like Polish, or Russian."
"Might be one of those DP's," Melling said. |
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![](M_Keefe/19th Bezirk Station.jpg)
19th Bezirk Station |
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Coleman turned to me and Melling. "Lets go," he said putting his helmet liner on, "I think I know who they are. You better come along too to identify them." The G.I., Melling, Coleman, and I went outside and jumped into the jeep.
"Think you know who they are?" I asked Coleman.
"Well," he began speaking over his shoulder, "what do you think? They don't speak German, so they're not Austrian probably. They're not American, we know that. What else could they be?"
"Maybe, they're DP's," I stated, quoting Melling.
"That's just what I think they are, and we're going to find them."
The jeep careened around the corner and pulled up near the PX. Coleman got out followed by the G.I. and me.
"Melling, you stay with the jeep." Coleman told the driver. "If we need you, I'll blow my whistle."
We crossed the Gurtel near the PX. "What are all those people doing over there?" I asked.
"There's where a lot of Black Market transactions take place, and two to one, those two DP's who stole this guy's watch came over here to get rid of it quickly."
"What if they've already sold it? I asked.
"Well, I don't think they've had time to make it here, yet, and if they have, I don't think they've sold it."
We walked through the crowd looking at all the faces, and we knew we looked conspicuous. However, we didn't care about that under the circumstances.
"See if you can identify any of these characters," Coleman told the G.I., and if so, don't say anything. I'll take care of things."
We continued walking through the crowd. We were almost finished, when the G.I. stopped. "There they are, both of them, talking to that man with the moustache."
"Stay here," Coleman told the G.I. "Come on," he told me, "and watch yourself."
We approached the two youths, who as yet hadn't seen us.
"Kommen sie mit mit," Coleman said to them, as I went around behind the other youth. We marched them both back to the jeep, and when they saw the G.I., they both seemed to pale.
"I'm sure glad you got them," the G.I. said. "They got my watch on them?"
"We'll wait until we return them to the Bezirk Station."
Upon returning, we searched them and luckily they still had the watch. Coleman called the Radio Desk Sergeant and reported the incident. Finally, an SIS agent arrived and took the G.I. and the DP's to the Provost Marshal's Office for questioning. Coleman sat down at the typewriter and filled in the Desk Blotter. I continued the comic magazine and Kent Clark was just about to change into Superman, when I heard Coleman's voice.
"Melling and I are going to check the 'Off Limits' cafes. You stay here with Whitman. We'll be back in a half hour."
Coleman and Melling left in the jeep, and I settled down to finish the magazine. When they returned, there were only a few people on the street and it had begun to rain.
When we had been relieved and had returned to the billets, I knew what Coleman meant, when he told me he liked his job. For some reason, I think I liked it also. |
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Interior Guard and Static Posts |
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![](M_Keefe/796thMPBn-StiftskaserneGate.jpg)
Entrance to Stiftskaserne on Mariahilferstrasse |
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(Source: "796th Military Police Bn, 1947-1948 Yearbook", courtesy Mike Keefe) |
Interior Guard and Static Posts are two separate terms for similar duties; guarding certain areas within the garrison, and guarding important American installations.
On Interior Guard duty, the men stand guard for 2 hours on, and 4 hours off throughout a 24 hour-period. However, during their free time, the men must remain in the Guard Room, or in the Battalion area.
On a Static Post, the men are on duty for a six-hour period. A man usually pulls duty at a Static Post only once every 24 hours.
Men of the 796th MP Bn are responsible for the security of the Franz-Joseph Bahnhof, the Hernalser Motor Pool, the WAC Detachment, the Astoria Garage, the Manner Food Dump, the Arsenal Warehouse, the Class II and IV Warehouse, the American Legation during the night, the Linz Road Block, Headquarters Command, USFA, the Provost Marshal's Office, and the 110th Station Hospital Prisoners' Ward.
The men of the 796th who successfully stand guard night after night deserve much credit for patience and endurance. It stands without a doubt that on a cold, wet night, two hours can seem like two years. |
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