The Happy Busboy

Comrade Molotov, the Mayor of Broadway, was the kind of soldier who could make an officer jump up & down with rage and then pin a medal on him. There was hardly a dogface in the 9th Division who didn't know him or hadn't heard of him. Few knew that he got his mail addressed to Pvt. Karl C. Warner. None knew that his real name was Karl Petusky.

The 26-year-old infantryman was a gay and awesome fighter in the lines. In North Africa he once put on a one-man show that resulted in the capture of almost 600 Italians. In the rear areas he was a holy terror. He liked to wear officers' uniforms, or bits of uniforms from several different armies. He consistently roamed away from his guard duty post, would walk a mile to avoid a salute.

He was called Molotov because he sometimes hinted vaguely at being of Russian origin and because he was jubilant over Russian victories. He was called the Mayor of Broadway because of his equally vague and Bunyanesque tales about the life he led in New York. Actually he had been a busboy in a nightclub.

In April 1943, he was killed storming a German machine-gun nest with a detachment of French Goums in Tunisia's Sedjenane Valley. The Silver Star was awarded to him posthumously. He had also been recommended for the Distinguished Service Cross but that was denied. At the time of his death he was awaiting court-martial for insubordination. They buried him near the spot where he fell.

But even in death he gave the Army a bad time. The Army was ready to bring his body back to the states, but could not locate any next-of-kin. Last week, after eleven months of looking, Pvt. Molotov's sister was found living in Manhattan. Said she: "Of course he is to come back. New York was his home. Karl loved this place."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.