"Fort Schuster"
There was an old stone building at the south end of the Chiunzi Pass in the mountains above the town of Maiori in 1943. On Italy’s beautiful Amalfi Coast. The building was constructed in the side of a granite cliff over one hundred years ago. The war-torn building sat at a strategic vantage point and a natural opening, or pass, in the mountain range that includes Mt. Chiunzi.
The “pass” is 6 miles north of Maoiri, just south of the small city of Angri, even further south of the city of Naples and the wide Naples plain that extends beyond the city. This ancient stone farmhouse offers a commanding bird’s-eye view of Naples, Mount Vesuvius, and the entire valley below.
Today this old stone building is a restaurant called La Violetta. (see video below) In September of 1943, it was a World War II field hospital run by a remarkable American doctor, soldier, hero named Emile Schuster.
But first, some background.
Operation Avalanche
The Allied invasion of the Italian mainland included an attack on the beach at Maiori, Italy, on the Amalfi Coast. “Operation Avalanche” was the code name for the allies’ invasion, which took place on September 9, 1943, just west of the port of Salerno.
Under the command of Lt. Col. William Darby, 1,600 Rangers landed on the Maiori coast and immediately secured the beachhead. Darby’s Rangers fought their way up into the mountains overlooking the beach and quickly overwhelmed the German forces they encountered.
The Rangers were able to hold their ground with the help of the 83rd Chem Mortar Battalion. Their combined efforts kept the Germans at bay and enabled them to take control of the old stone farmhouse that sits at the southern end of the highly strategic Chiunzi Pass, thus commanding the pass itself.
Darby lived with the constant threat that overwhelming enemy forces might sweep aside the thinly held allied lines and knock out the allied left flank. At Maiori, Darby’s main headquarters, wounded soldiers were carried down steep slopes to a seafront monastery that had been converted into a makeshift hospital. By the light of a hissing Coleman lantern, doctors worked day and night at a portable operating theater, aided by Italian nuns and nurses. Nearby, a local carpenter hammered simple pine coffins together. This is what the invasion of Italy looked like in its earliest stages.
PVT William M. Bonnamy, of the 319th Field Artillery Battalion, and whose battalion was also in Maiori at this same time providing direct artillery support to Colonel Darby’s 1st Battalion Rangers, recalled seeing jeeps mounted with mortars racing up and down the twisty dirt road from the beach to the high ground, a total of 5 or 6 miles, all the while firing on enemy positions.
Bonnamy said the Rangers’ first goal was to create the impression of a much larger force. To make the enemy think there were more Rangers than were actually there. The second goal was to disrupt the Nazi supply route from the port of Salerno northwest to the city of Naples. The third goal was to kill German soldiers and eliminate any resistance to the allied advance.
Darby’s Rangers
When Bonnamy’s 319th Field Artillery (Glider) Battalion landed on the beach at Maiori just before midnight, the men ran towards a retaining wall, fully expecting enemy fire. But none came. The Rangers had been on this beach earlier and had secured the area for the incoming 319th glidermen.
While on the beach, one of Bill Bonnamy’s fellow soldiers nudged him and pointed out an officer who was crouched below them quietly smoking a cigarette. “That’s Colonel Darby of Darby’s Rangers,” he said. The famous Colonel Darby was casually watching the 319th battalion unload all their supplies that evening.
Bonnamy had briefly met Colonel Darby during training back at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. At that time, Darby was looking for volunteers to join his Rangers. PVT Bonnamy, deciding he wanted nothing to do with this outfit, was heard to say, “All those guys in the Rangers were killed, all of them.”
From the hamlets of Tramonti on the morning of September 12, 1943, the 319th Artillery Battalion began firing more than 12,000 artillery rounds over the mountain range and through the Chiunzi Pass targeting German truck columns, troop movements, supply depots, road junctions, enemy “88” gun placements, ammo supplies, tanks, and rocket batteries, as well as other enemy activity along Highway 18 just outside of Naples.
The sound of cannon fire was continuous, mostly during the nighttime. The centerpiece of all this military action was the old granite farmhouse located at the critical south end of the now famous Chiunzi Pass.
The farmhouse was being used as a field hospital, a rudimentary infirmary actually, as well as a forward observation post for Colonel Darby and the 319th Artillery Battalion – thanks to its nearly unassailable 3-foot thick stone walls and its commanding view of the Naples valley below.
Armored infantry defense included big guns mounted on half-tracks in front of the old stone farmhouse. (A half-track is a military vehicle with regular wheels in the front for steering and continuous tracks at the back, like a tank, to give the vehicle cross-country capabilities. A half-track can carry up to 10 troops, armed with a canon and large machine gun.)
The allies often used smoke screens to gain a few moments of surprise, in order to get off a few rounds before the Germans could respond.
Fort Schuster
A 35-year old ranger medic - a medical doctor from Oakland, California named Captain Emile G. Schuster - used this near impregnable stone building to treat wounded rangers who were protecting the 319th artillerymen from German infantry attacks.
Dr. Schuster felt certain that the stone structure could withstand everything the Germans threw at it. And he was right. It did.
The century-old granite building became known as a place where wounded allied soldiers could get proper medical treatment and could heal safely. In fact, it became so well-known and so well thought of, that the rangers and artillerymen started calling it Fort Schuster in honor of Dr. Emile Schuster.
“88 Pass”
During the Chiunzi Pass action of 1943, a medical flask was literally shot out of Captain Schuster’s hand. Objects behind him were cut down by German machine gun fire. The Germans fired deadly 88 artillery shells at the stone farmhouse, but to little avail. (The “88” is a large German 88 mm anti-tank, anti-aircraft artillery gun). The Germans were constantly trying to shoot 88 rounds through the opening of the Chiunzi Pass, (see photo) but they could never seem to get the exact angle to do any real damage to the old stone building, although they came close a few times. As a result of these ongoing attacks with the “big gun,” Chiunzi Pass also became known as “88 Pass.”
From the Pass, the Rangers, along with paratroopers and infantrymen, held command of a wide valley and were therefore in an excellent position to drop artillery shells on German mortar batteries hidden at the foot of the mountain. These American forces held their position in the Chiunzi Pass against a dozen major attacks over a period of 2 ½ weeks.
For the most part, the soldiers slept in foxholes carved into the mountainside. It was one of many discomforts they experienced in their fight to save the world from fascism.
The fact that Naples was captured so quickly – just three weeks after American troops had first landed on Italian soil – was due in large part to the daring fighting spirit of a small group of fearless Army Rangers, Field Artillerymen and other allied units in the Chiunzi Pass.
Throughout all this, Captain Schuster never shrank from his duty and never retreated. He remained in the stone farmhouse, using the most primitive medical tools, and saved the lives of scores, if not hundreds, of wounded American soldiers. For his selfless heroism, Captain Schuster was later awarded the Distinguished Service Cross.
“The fighting pill roller”
Dr. Emile Schuster started out as a newspaper boy in Oakland, California. He graduated from St. Mary’s College as valedictorian, while working part time in a pharmacy.
Schuster received a scholarship to McGill University in Montreal, Canada, from which he graduated in the spring of 1940.
He thereafter interned at San Francisco County Hospital and was just two weeks away from a residency at Oakland, California’s Merritt Hospital when the war broke out. However, the “fighting pill roller” looked at the situation in Europe and asked himself what he should do. He went to the Army Officers Procurement Office in San Francisco and presented his credentials. The officer in charge said, “Well, doctor, all we can offer you is a captaincy, you’ll enter the army with the rank of captain.” Without a moment’s hesitation, Dr. Schuster replied, “Where do I sign?” Four days later he was on his way to war, and September of 1943 found him in Italy with the Army Rangers as they fought their way up to the old stone farmhouse, stormed it, overwhelmed 200 or more German troops, and took control of this crucial mountain pass.
Schuster’s first job was to help a wounded soldier who they said had no chance to live. Doc Schuster administered morphine, sulfa drugs, and blood plasma and half an hour later announced, “This man will live!” This was September 17, 1943, which was also Doctor Schuster’s son’s birthday. On that same day, in Oakland, California, his son Emile Jr. received a “birthday package” from his dad containing souvenirs. In the midst of everything Doctor Schuster forgot nothing.
Yankee soldiers who were hurt and far from home lived out the war because Emile Schuster had waited tables, washed and ironed clothing, worked as a pharmacist (and at any other job that was offered) in order to put himself through college and become a medical doctor. Schuster’s combined experiences had meant the difference between life and death for countless American soldiers at the Chiunzi Pass.
In the post-war years Dr. Schuster practiced medicine in Oakland out of his home office. He was a member of the Alameda County Medical Association, the California Medical Association, and the Kiwanis, an international service organization dedicated to “serving the children of the world.”
Sadly, Captain Emile G. Schuster, M.D. died of a heart attack just after WWII, in 1949. He was only 41 years old. Good man gone too soon. God bless and keep him.