Alexander Marsh was born in November 1922, one of eight children, on a farm in Hardee County, Florida. As a young man, he did farm chores and tended the family's orange groves. He grew up during the Great Depression, and although times were rough for everyone, the Marshes were thrifty and managed well enough. He was in a movie theater with friends when they heard about the attack on Pearl Harbor. Many of the guys said they were going to sign up to fight those "so-and-sos." Marsh graduated from high school in 1942, and because he always wanted to fly, he tried to get a pilot's license, but the discovery of his colorblindness prevented his accomplishing his goal. All his friends were being drafted or enlisting and he decided to volunteer in July 1942. His vision problem limited his eligibility to the Army, and he was inducted at Camp Blanding, Florida. Because he had experience in operating a bull dozer, he was assigned to an armored division. His basic training was at Fort Knox, Kentucky, where he began operating tanks. He enjoyed the work. But he was also a quick typist, a rare skill at the time, and he was told he was needed at headquarters. Marsh worked at the Fort Knox headquarters for almost a year. Somehow, it was discovered that Marsh's first choice for service had been the Air Force, and he was transferred to the Army Air Corps at Bowman Field, near Louisville, Kentucky. He fondly remembers playing basketball and baseball for the base team. He applied for officer candidate school, and was assigned to the artillery, but because his math background was not strong, he "flunked out." Next he was assigned to the 106th Division [Annotator's Note: 106th Infantry Division], which was just being assembled at Camp Atterbury, Indiana, and he trained as a sergeant in a tank platoon.

Shifted about, Alexander Marsh didn't feel he had been adequately trained in any position. Nevertheless, he got orders to the European Theater of Operations, which allayed his fears of having to fight the Japanese. Marsh crossed the Atlantic on the RMS Queen Elizabeth, put into port in Scotland and traveled by train to Cheltenham, England. He found England a shambles as a result of the bombing of Britain, and felt sorry for the citizens. The locals responded cordially to the Americans, but he never got invited to lunch after church on Sunday. Marsh's unit [Annotator's Note: 3rd Battalion, 423rd Infantry Regiment, 106th Infantry Division] was in England for a couple of months, then sailed to Le Havre, which had been leveled, on their way to the Siegfried Line. Marsh marched, and spent a night or two bivouacking on the way to a staging area. His unit was called up to replace the 2nd Infantry Division on a five-mile front at the end of November 1944, occupying foxholes Marsh thinks were hollowed out during World War 1.

Alexander Marsh was in charge of three 57mm anti-tank guns and a platoon of 20 to 25 men. At night he could hear the German tanks "moving up," getting ready for the Battle of the Bulge and Marsh reported the activity to headquarters. Then, on 16 December [Annotator's Note: 16 December 1944], "all Hell broke loose." Shelling was heavy for 45 minutes, and Marsh was trying to find a foxhole as they were moving out, but ended up lying as flat as he could get in a truck rut. The attack was disastrous. Allied personnel were completely disorganized, trying to pull back to a position that was safe, but the German tanks started moving in and overran them. Marsh and a buddy were going to hide out in a wooded area, but it was cold and dark, and they were disoriented. Finally, they surrendered.

The American troops were taken prisoner, and Alexander Marsh said he marched for three days into the interior of Germany. They had no rest or food, and arrived cold and miserable at a train depot where they were loaded onto crowded cattle cars that had no restroom facilities. On Christmas night [Annotator's Note: 25 December 1944] at Frankfurt, their train was bombed by the RAF [Annotator's Note: British Royal Air Force] and many were killed, while Marsh slept through the whole event. The journey resumed for a few more days to arrive at Stalag IX-A near the Swiss border at Ziegenhain, Germany. The camp held all types of prisoners, including Czechs and French. They lived in barracks that held about 500 men each. Bunks were stacked three high, and rations were meager. Marsh lost 40 pounds while he was there. They joked about trapping their old guard's little dog and eating him. Marsh was a non-commissioned officer and had no work details, and experienced no brutality whatsoever. Heads were counted every morning, and Marsh spent hours playing cards. The prisoners stayed in the same clothes they arrived in, and lice became a serious issue. Marsh was lucky to have his field jacket, but his snow boots were confiscated, and his feet froze. He became friends with an African-American who tried to persuade him to attempt an escape, but Marsh didn't want to take the chance. His buddy tried anyway, and was shot scaling the second fence, where he hung all night. The tragedy took place a few days before the Americans overran the camp.

Alexander Marsh could sense the war was drawing to a close, and his colleagues who had been in artillery could identify the big guns that were going off in the vicinity. Later they could hear small arms fire and knew the Americans were only a couple of days away. Then one afternoon, Patton [Annotator's Note: US Army Lieutenant General George S. Patton] and his tanks rolled in. The Germans had already fled. Marsh asked a G.I. for a k-ration [Annotator's Note: an individual daily combat food ration] and relished eating it, but it badly upset his stomach. Soon they were evacuated, and flown to Camp Lucky Strike where they got medical attention and plenty of food and warmth. After about ten days, Marsh boarded the USS Mayflower (WPE-183), and shipped back to New Jersey. He was glad to see the Statue of Liberty. After a long furlough, he reported to Camp Blanding, Florida, where he was the star quarterback on the base football team. On his birthday, 6 November 1945, his three year career in the Army ended with his discharge. At 92, Marsh says he is thankful for America and the life it offers.