College Bound, Sept 1943-March 1944
by Sheldon Tauben, 75th ID, 289th IR, 2nd Bn HQ

A precursor to the post war “G.I. Bill/’ that remarkable and exemplary legislation that enabled veterans to obtain low-cost home mortgages and gave thousands the opportunity to secure a free college education, the US Army, in the summer of 1943, began a new educational endeavor, “The Army Specialized Training Program.” With its distinctive shoulder patch, a gold oil lamp of knowledge on a blue background, this special unit directed thousands of soldiers fresh from basic infantry training including air force cadets washed out of flight school and other services, to collection depots for testing and eventual assignment to colleges and universities throughout the United States.

The Citadel, a military school in South Carolina renown for its officer training and tracing a proud heritage back to the early 1800’s, was the major depot in the Eastern United States. All of the soldiers selected for this assignment had one thing in common- an “AGCT” score of 130 or higher. Upon entering the service each person underwent an extensive written examination with the final score prominently entered on his manila service file. The “Army General Classification Test” was an I.Q. exam used to direct personnel into jobs (MOS) or military occupation specialty that would be most appropriate for his on her level of intellectual ability. I had just completed 15 weeks of basic training at Seymour Johnson Field (Air Force) in Goldsboro, NC when I received orders to report to the administration center at the Citadel for further assignment.

After a week or so of inactivity (we did some sight-seeing in Charleston, SC) everyone received new orders directing them to any of the dozens of educational institutions within the program. By luck of the draw I was assigned to the Polytechnic Institute of Brooklyn, a renowned school of engineering located in the heart of downtown Brooklyn. A few days later I arrived in Brooklyn just in time to begin the fall term in September Of 1943. We were housed in the Fort Green housing project, a brand new Federal low cost development and were the first tenants. Bunker beds, desks, chairs and bookcases were provided-two men to a room. If not for the G.I. uniforms, it appeared much like a typical college dormitory. But the comparison ended just there. This was a military unit and run by the book.

6:00 a.m. reveille followed by formation in ranks by battalion in the courtyard, roll call and then dismissal for breakfast. 7:00 a.m. we formed up again by battalion and marched off in a sprightly military manner, each “student” carrying an over-the-shoulder mussette bag-books! Our route took us from the project down Schermerhorn Street and then to 99 Livingston where we lined up in the street in front of Polytechnic some 25 minutes later. Initially, it was a novelty to early morning Brooklynites and we were observed closely. Who doesn’t love a parade?

Formations broke up as we headed to our assigned classrooms for lectures in the usual freshman engineering curriculum plus some liberal arts courses in English, History and Geography. At 12 noon the entire unit again fell into ranks and marched back to the project for lunch. By 2 p.m. we were back at school ending the day with a 5:30 formation and return to our quarters for dinner. All meals were cafeteria-style served and eaten quickly, and no K.P. The basement of one of the buildings was converted into a cafeteria and served about 300 men at a time. After dinner we were expected to study the work assigned. AS I remember there was time for playing cards and craps. As long as we kept reasonably in order we were not bothered by “management.”

School continued for 5 days per week with weekends off on a pass unless some infraction of the rule caused the privilege to be withdrawn. These were pleasant weekends spent mainly with family as we lived in Jamaica about 1 hour away by train. On some weekends we attended local entertainment conducted by the American Red Cross. No hard liquor but lots of Coke and donuts. The girls that joined us were a motley crew from the local neighborhood, which in those days, close to the Brooklyn Navy Yard, was not exactly Park Ave.

One bright spot was the Commish’s Inn on Myrtle Avenue a few blocks away. It was run by my Uncle Irving, the black sheep of my father’s family, who had operated a speakeasy in Broad Channel during prohibition. Family legend had it that he used a black Cadillac hearse to run booze down from Montreal-passing through customs easily-who wants to bother a stiff I Uncle Irving was always good for a beer and pretzels and I saw him often at the time. I was never at a loss for company as 3 or 4 of my buddies also liked free beer. He kept a live monkey in a cage and had one of the first TV sets in NYC-about a 4″ screen in a 6ft high cabinet. Weekly fights and wrestling occupied a few hours at night. Uncle Irving was my father’s youngest brother. He had no children and took a liking to me, buying me my first baseball glove and a “Daisy” air rifle when I was 10 or 11. The odd name of his bar traced back to prohibition days when many of the NYC commissioners were his friends and customers. “Popularly known as “Brooklyn Poly” the name was changed in 1985 to Polytechnic University relocated form 99 Livingston St. to 333 Jay St. and now upgraded to “#6 Metrotech Center.” I still prefer the old names and address-you knew it was not in the Bronx and it favored important persons in American history!

College Bound Part 2

Going to classes 5 days a week for 7-8 hours a day was a difficult regimen|j but it took us through about two years of college “hours” between Sept 43 and March 44. After the war I was able to transfer some of the credits to a BA degree at Adelphi College (class of 49). I really wasn’t interested in engineering but managed to “hang on” while the program lasted. One of my buddies was Ralph Bono. He hailed from the Bronx and introduced us to the pleasures of pizza. Near the Commish’s Inn was a storefront, family-run “pizza parlor,” as they were generally known. Great deep dish, strictly cheese pizza-no fancy toppings but a taste to remember.

George Harris was another Gl from New Harmony, Indiana, deep at the southern end of the state. If it were difficult to locate a spot where the south and the north blended it is likely/ffafc New Harmony would fit the bill. Founded in the early 19^th century as an English Utopian Commune, it soon dropped its pretensions and “grew up” as a small southern rural town. George’s family lived in an “honest to goodness” log cabin- outdoor toilets-no central heat and a kitchen pump added only as a recognition of modernity- not 100 yards from the Wabash River.

As fate sometimes dictates, I got to know George’s family well. His mom, Effie, sister, brother-in-law and niece welcomed me months later when I was stationed in Camp Breckenridge, KY with the 75^th Inf Div. George had a disability form a poorly set broken elbow which left him on limited duty. He spent the war at desk jobs and while in New York visited my family on the same weekends that I spent in New Harmony with his. That spring and early summer of 1944 hold memories of southern fried chicken, mashed potatoes, iced tea and watermelon served on a wood plank table in the Harris’ front yard. They welcomed me warmly as George’s friend even though they may have wondered privately, what a nice Jewish boy like me was doing in a place like this!

Back to School!

Our Geography professor was a Dr. Fraim who had taught, before the war, at the University of Rangoon in Burma (now “Myannar”). When the troops learned this esoteric fact they recognized Dr. Fraim’s unique background with a monstrous battalion-sized shout of “RAN GOON” each morning as formations in front of Polytechnic broke up for classes. I think we all received “A’s” in Geography. The course work ran through Chemistry, Physics, Mathematics, blueprint drawing etc using text books usually written by the professor. Polytechnic was home to some of the top men in their fields. I never had the nerve to ask but I wondered what they thought of education by the numbers. Eight hours each day-5 days a week!

Through the winter of 1943-1944 we continued the daily grind. However, in mid-March our idyllic military careers came to a screeching halt. While it was all well and good to keep the colleges and universities functioning and give deserving Gl’s a shot at college studies, the manpower needs of the army came first. An infantry troop build-up was in the works and the ASTP was shut down except for some very limited programs in medicine and dentistry. We didn’t know it then but plans for the June 6,1944 D-Day landings in Normandy were well on their way.

Within a few days we were loaded into railroad cars (no Pullmans) and on our way South to Louisiana. Most of our group wound up in 75^th Inf Div, then training at Camp Polk where we were assigned to various units. I drew the 2^nd Bn HQ Co 289^th Inf regiment and remained with them through the extensive training at Camp Polk, then Camp Breckenridge, KY. We departed for Europe in Sept 1944 and wound up in the Battle of the Bulge in Dec 1944. But that’s another story.

One small incident remains in my memory of our days at Brooklyn Polytechnic. During one of our daily “parades” through downtown Brooklyn, on a cold and clear morning we marched in strict military formation passing by a corner drug store. It had 3 steps leading up to the entrance. An older woman, bundled up, stood till, waving her handkerchief to us and called out “hurry back boys/’ She mistakenly thought we were headed to Bush Terminal, a nearby troop embarkation facility. A smart-ass PFC in the front ranks turned to her and replied so all could hear “It’s ok, lady, we’ll be back right after lunch!”

My Battle of the Bulge; Before and Beyond
by Chester Pokusa, Battery B, 90^th ID

After two months training near Birmingham, England we were sent to Newport, Wales where we boarded the troopship “Enochtrain.” We were sent around the cape several miles into the English Channel to rendezvous. At 1600 officers gave us our briefing. As expected, it sent a spark of terror in most of the men. I can say I held my composure fairly well. This was all happening on June 6, 1944, D-Day. Ike called for us follow the 4^th Infantry Division as we landed on Utah Beach. I mean truly, I’ve never seen so many landing craft and very large battleships blasting German forts above us. It was a very successful venture when the 90^th met the 4^th and 82^nd. As we drove into Normandy we were very successful. I was wounded during the fight for St. Lo when a German Messerschmitt dove on us while we were at the base of a cliff. He missed us but hit the rocks above us and I was hit by a falling rock.

I returned to action quickly in time to be part of the trap of the Germans at Falaise. We were very successful when we met the Polish and Canadians to capture the German 7^th Panzer Army. After we gave them two opportunities to surrender they refused. The sight and smell was terrible as we completely slaughtered them.

The 90^th Division was put on 24 hour watch of ninety miles of front and we enjoyed an early full Christmas dinner in 1944. The very next day General Patton called us up on the line and said he needed one of his favorite divisions to follow his 4^th Armored Division to Bastogne and free Gen. McAuliffe who was surrounded there. At that time he told the Jerrys “nuts” to their demand to surrender all our forces to them. It took Patton two days to rout the Jerrys with all of our fire power and help from other full divisions. It had been a surprise attack by the Germans and they caused a lot of damage to men and equipment. We went in and stopped them cold and reversed their onslaught. So it was overpowered on our part.

On one occasion as we approached Bastogne my artillery gun was chosen for “high angle” readiness. After we fired one round and word came back from our forward observer that we had a hole in one – a round right down the turret of the large tank. We had a field day demolishing that German column.

I must tell this true story of my Malmedy. Capt. Johnson called me in for a confab. He directed me to pick three other volunteers. He said we have a weapons carrier ready to take you and the other men to witness the murders of 86 prisoners of war the bastards had of ours. The Jerry commander had our guys line up and he told them he was going to release them because the war was almost won by the U.S.A. Instead, he backed two trucks full of machine guns. He ordered them to fire into them and grenade them, our defenseless men. Then they went among the terrible slaughter to shoot anyone that moved. When we got there the bodies were frozen and snow was being uncovered from over them.

I found out later that two men escaped – one had his eyes open and didn’t breathe. They shot the man next to him, just to show his importance even though the man was already dead. I traced that man that escaped – he lives in Beaver, Pa. just a few miles from where I live. One of my men couldn’t take it and backed away crying and vomiting at the same time. I cried for two days after this terrible experience. I can say at that time I wound up with a terrible urge to kill every Jerry I would run across. We had a temporary order not to take any prisoners. That order was lifted after about a week. I did not obey that order.

We were part of a contingent that captured Hitler’s salt mine loaded with all his loot of paintings, gold bars, and money stolen from the countries he captured. We did not encounter any watchdogs or guards patrolling the main entrance or any of the other two small hidden entrances. I believe it was called the Merker Salt mine. I was a good spectator.

General’s Eisenhower, Patton, Collins, Lear, and others eventually came to inspect, padlock and secure the mine. My buddy, Cpl. Thompson, and I had the best hillside position overlooking the main entrance about a hundred yards away. My buddy decided to leave and join the rest of our artillery battery. I stayed and witnessed history as it was happening. The Generals stopped as they left the mine entrance and had a pretty long sustained talk about their plans, paying no attention to what was going on around them. I noticed a German fighter in the far distance and it seemed that it was turning toward us. He turned once and went around to line us up for a run. I had suspicioned one box car sitting on the rail siding about 25 yards away was full of explosives so I took it on my intuition to warn off the generals and shouted for them to get down. Gen. Collins ran over to me to question what I was doing there.

At first he wanted to arrest me and put me in the brig. After reasoning with him and looking at the German plane closing on us, Gen. Collins decided it was best that the others take cover but he took my name, rank, and serial number and told me that he would have me court marshaled if I was wrong. He then told me to get the hell out of there toots sweet. I just started to high ball it over the hill when I heard the big roar of the jet plane go right over me. It was Germany’s new jet and he had angled into the box car with two large rockets. I was in the clear and saw the pilot and I thought I was a goner. As I suspected, the box car was full of explosives. The whole area shook and the ground trembled. Smoke was so thick that it took about 20 or 30 minutes to clear. The pilot must have chosen to spare me. I heard some of our anti-aircraft in the distance and thought they had shot down the plane. The plane was beautiful and red in color. None of our men at the mine entrance were injured.

We, the 90^th, cut Germany in two and met the Russians in Czechoslovakia where the 11th German Panzer with all its equipment would only surrender to the 90^th Division. I was awarded the bronze and silver star in addition to a Purple Heart and Presidential citation for my service.

CCR of the 4th Armored Division pierced the Bulge at Bastogne on the 26th of December. Increased pressure on all sides of the Bulge caused the German Army to surrender or retreat back towards Germany. Then the armored units turned east to pursue the retreating enemy. The 188th. Engineer Combat Battalion along with other combat engineer battalions were held in the Bastogne-Houfalize Area to restore the highway system to a serviceable condition. The road system was never constructed to handle the pounding of tracked vehicles and heavy highway trucks. No highway system could withstand the conditions that the present roads were called on to withstand the beating they were subjected to. Most of the roads were nothing but a sea of mud, water and ruts. We worked day and night restoring them to a condition where they could be used again.

We constructed many sections of corduroy roadway, as the sub-coarses of the road had disappeared. A corduroy road is constructed of sections of tree trunks covered by the rubble of destroyed buildings and homes. A corduroy road is a poor substitute for a paved surface but we did not have that option. A corduroy road will provide the necessary traction for the vehicles so necessary in a war zone. Maintenance is constant and never ending.

We turned east and moved through the Seigfried Line into Germany. Bridges were built and roads were repaired and land mines and anti personnel were removed or destroyed as we continued our move through German cities, towns and villages. The civilian population had abandoned their home farms and livestock and moved farther into Germany at the approach of the American army. The abandonment of these towns and villages continued for a short time and then stopped. With the approach of the American Army from the west and the Russian army from the east there was soon no place to go. Some of the German civilians told us they had been told by their government officials that we would rob, rape and murder them. We did none of these things, but we did milk their cows and savored the fruits of our labors. Did you ever hear the pitiful mooing of a cow that needed to be milked?

We moved steadily east where our next big mission would be crossing the Rhine River. Training for the crossing was underway. Selected platoons in our Battalion received additional training in the operation and use of motor boats. All of our bridge building, road repair and mine removal work had been completed in this area and we awaited our orders for the Rhine River crossing which was awaiting our Battalion. With the receipt of orders the Battalion was off for Kaiserlauten, where we were to join the XX Corps. Enroute our orders were changed and we stopped at Oberthal. The German civilians were ordered to vacate their homes and when the Battalion arrived  they were able to move in . Overnight the crossing was  cancelled in this section and we were reassigned to the 1107th Group. So we are off again, this time in the direction from which we had just come. When we arrived at a wooded area near Braunshorn we started to prepare for the crossing. After a final preparation with the motors, we were ready for the Rhine River crossing.

Reconnaissance of the area between St. Goar and Oberwessel for suitable landing sites had been made by Staff Officers and all was in readiness. Orders for the crossing were received and at 2AM on Sunday the 26th. of March we moved to the river. The artillery opened fire on the far side of the river and the mission was underway. The assault boats entered the river for the crossing to Wellmich, St. Goar and Oberwessel. The initial wave of boats were paddled and succeeding waves were powered. The assalt boats were manned by combat engineers of the 168th Battalion. The crossing at St. Goar was strongly resisted, with lighter resistance at Wellmich and Oberwessel. With the infantry clearing the far side, the construction of ferries began. Once built they were placed in service. The motor powered ferries would carry troops and supplies to St. Goar, on the east side of the Rhine and return within our wounded and German prisoners, but not on the same trip.

During the day our B Company had two of its jeeps knocked out with resulting casualties. A Navy Duck, operating on the river, sideswiped and swamped a ferry,drowning one of our combat engineer soldiers. He was a very recent replacement in Company B of our Battalion. In war, death can overtake you in many different ways. The construction of a log boom, to protect the floating bridges, had to be abandoned after eight attempts. The current was too strong and the logs anchored to the cable were torn away at mid river and beyond. Fortunately the Germans did not launch any floating mines.

After the two floating bridges were built it was time to move on to the east. The front line was now many miles ahead of us and and we had quite some distance to cover to catch up to to the Fourth Armored Division. When we did catch up to them our main assignment was to repair and maintain their MSR (Main Supply Route) as they made their drive to capture the city of Gotha, Germany. The MSR, for the most part, was on the Autobahn Highway and we were strafed daily by enemy planes and suffered many casualties. Fortunately we did not suffer any fatalities as a result of these straffings.

As we moved deeper and deeper into Germany we occupied German homes for our dwellings. We no longer had to sleep in our pup tents and that was a great relief for all of us who were out in weather all day and our personal belongings and spare clothing were protected from the elements. The Germans were told to leave their homes before we moved in. This had been the policy since we entered Germany and it would remain in effect during and after the war. To the victor goes the spoils of war seemed to be the policy for all as far as I knew at the time.

The highways were crowded with the slave labor that had been freed or escaped from their captors and German soldiers who had surrendered or given up the battle. They lined both sides of the highways single file towards the rear of our position and headed in a westerly direction and hoping for a free meal. However; we did not have the means or the desire to host a dinner party for the German Army. We told them to continue walking west and someone, someplace would take care of them. Most of the battalion assignments were on the Autobahn      building and repairing bridges of all types of construction and repairing roads. There were numerous shell craters and tank traps that had to be filled. The speed of our advance was so great that we had crews working around the clock to keep the highways in service, and the Autobahn was the most important of them all.

While in this area we received word that a slave labor camp had been captured and the occupants had been set free. I decided to visit the camp and accompanied by my platoon sergeant and another squad leader from my platoon, we drove to the nearby town of Ohrdruf, Germany to take a look at the camp. The concentration camp was close by and we parked the jeep and walked through the main entrance. The gates and some fencing had been smashed by the armored force that had liberated the camp. The camp was fenced on all four sides. Prisoners dressed in striped pajama type uniforms were to be seen at many locations in the camp. The walking cadavers would approach you and stare aimlessly with glassy eyes. Some attempted to make conversation, asking for cigarettes which we gave them. They may have asked for other things, but we could not understand them. We continued to walk through the camp and entered one of the barrack like buildings that housed the prisoners. There were both live and dead prisoners in the building. The odor was terrible and took your breath away.

We quickly exited the building and did not enter any of the other barrack type buildings. In another area we saw the naked bodies of men and women stacked in rows like cordwood. Here and there a body had fallen from the stack and lay on the ground like a piece of wood which had fallen from the stack. On some of the stacking’s of bodies an attempt had been made to throw a layer of what appeared to be lime. Naturally we did not touch anything. Now and then I absentmindedly stuck my hands in my pockets to keep them out of harms way. Most of the stacks did not have any lime on them.   We moved on in this chamber of horror. In another area there was a large open ditch like excavation. Dozens and dozens of naked bodies of men and women had been haphazardly thrown into the excavation where they lay uncovered and exposed to the elements and animals.

We had seen more than enough and left the slave labor camp at Ohrdruf, Germany. A few days later the site was visited by Generals Eisenhower and Patton and other Generals It is my understanding General Eisenhower dispatched someone to the nearby town of Ohrdruf and they brought a town official to the camp and ordered him to gather the town citizenry to report to the camp with shovels to bury the dead bodies.  A few days after my visit to the camp at Ohrdruf another concentration camp was liberated at Buchenwald Germany. I did not visit that one as I had no desire to revisit the horror I had seen at Ohrdruf. “Mans inhumanity to fellow man”

Several times while doing repair work on the Autobahn Highway we saw jeeps bearing Russian Army Officers accompanied by American Army Officers traveling west. An occasional wave and sometimes a smile from them as they moved through our work area. Seeing the Russians we thought end of the war was at hand. However that was not the case.

C Company constructed a bridge across the Salle River, south of Vena, Germany, which marked the completion of one mile of fixed bridging in the ETO by our Battalion. This does not include the unfinished bridge at Keskastel in the Saar Valley constructed by B Company. We were on the job and would have completed the bridge that day. Then we received orders to cease construction and return to the company area and prepare for the move north to fight in the Battle of the Bulge I often wonder if there is someone out there who knows the rest of the story. What engineer outfit did finish he Bridge at Keskastel in the Saar Valley.. I wonder.

On the 6th of May the Battalion was placed in support of the 89th Division for a river crossing operation at Ave, Germany. On May 7th the operation was called off as negotiations were underway for a German surrender, ending the war. Later that day word was received that negotiations were completed and the Germans had surrendered. The war with Germany was over. May 8th was the day the war was officially over. I do not remember any large scale celebrations of the event. We were very relieved of course, but we all realized that there was an ongoing war with Japan and some of us would probably see some of that war,

We were now an Army of Occupation and the American Forces were to move to the American Occupation Zone in Bavaria. I was a member of the group that was dispatched to Bavaria to locate living quarters for our Company. We were to locate in an area near Regensburg, Germany. We surveyed the area for the most desirable quarters consistent with our future work as a member of the Army of Occupation. The most suitable quarters for our company were found in the city of Regensberg .   It was a multi storied apartment building and would suit our needs. The civilian occupants were given orders to vacate the building and this was accomplished quickly.

The site we had chosen had a large athletic field adjacent to our living quarters.   We used the field for military drill exercises and it was also used for our daily program of physical training to keep us in top physical shape. The field was also used for our softball games when we had free time. A volley ball court gave us another outlet to expend our excess energy. The athletic games soon attracted the attention of group of young boys living in the neighborhood. These boys all about 10 years of age and younger became regular fixtures at all of our outdoor activities including meal times when we ate our meals outdoors. The mess sergeant offered the leftovers one day to the boys if they would provide a container to be used to carry the food away from our area. They disappeared and quickly returned with containers of all sizes and descriptions. Apparently they had hidden the containers nearby in hopes of being offered the leftovers someday. The kitchen leftovers were quickly augmented by food from the soldiers mess gear. When the containers were filled or all of the spare food had been parceled out, they headed for their homes to share the food with their families.

Kids are the same worldwide, even German youngsters. That is until they enter the German youth programs of Adolph Hitler. Then they become a very different person. I have seen both and I recognize the change in their character. One of our assignments in the Army of Occupation was to repair a bridge over the Danube River at a town east of Regensburg. The repairs included repairing two damaged masonry piers and placing steel members to bridge the gaps between the piers. Repairs to the approaches and other road work in the area had to be performed and then the bridge was returned to service.

One of the assignments we were given in the Army of Occupation was the establishment and operation of a railhead. Building material was being collected for the construction of barracks for the troops that were to remain in Europe as a part of the Army of Occupation. The railroad tracks and railway equipment was severely damaged as a result of the aerial and artillery bombings during the seven (7) years of war in Europe. Slowly the reconstruction of rails and rolling stock was returning some of the railway system to an operating status. The freight cars we would be using to ship the building materials, namely, flat cars, box cars, hoppers and gondolas of various lengths and capacities. To realize the maximum value of this equipment we would have to be selective in the loading of the building materials.

We were assigned the use of four stub ended tracks coming off a ladder track which was connected to the main track serving the rail yard. It was a good location, readily accessible to the highway and with a large area to permit the delivery trucks sufficient room to maneuver into place to unload the building materials to the freight cars. When we had enough cars loaded, a switching crew was called to remove the loaded cars and assemble them into a train for delivery to a barracks building site. This involved switching out the loaded cars and placing the partially loaded and empty cars on one of the stub ended tracks.

The switching crew usually consisted of a conductor, a brakeman and a locomotive engineer. They were German civilians and they did not speak the English language. One of the soldiers in our platoon Willie K., had been born in Germany and had emigrated to the United States with his parents when he was three (3) years old. His parents used the German language at their home in conversations with their family. Willie K. the American soldier was very fluent in the German language and he was called on for his services by other officers in the battalion.

The request for a switch crew had to be made at least twenty four (24) hours in advance of the day they would be needed. I had made such a request for a switch crew but Willie K’s services were required by one of our staff officers that morning and so I was without an interpreter when the switch crew arrived. So I attempted to give the instructions to the crew myself. My skills in the German language were very limited but I had no other alternative but to try to get the job done. The usual procedure was to make a list in duplicate of the loaded cars to be shipped that day. The original was given to the conductor and I kept the duplicate. The conductor, interpreter and I would then check the loaded cars against the list and then the switching crew would cut the loaded cars out of the mix and assemble them on an empty track to build the outbound train for the shipment to the consignee. Then the crew would rearrange the remaining cars plus any empties that they might have delivered to us that day.

On this particular day when I gave the conductor the instructions for that days work in my limited ability in the German language he and I were unable to understand each other. He asked me if I could speak French. I advised him that I could not but that I had a soldier in the platoon who could speak French. The soldier was summoned to the scene and so I told him in English what I wanted the crew to do. He then gave this information in French to the conductor who then instructed the engineer and brakeman in German on the moves to be made. But if the engineer or brakeman had a question or did not understand then it all ended back with me to attempt to unravel. What came back to me was not the same set of instructions that I originally gave to the French speaking soldier. Words in the original set of instructions sometimes stray in their meaning as they are translated from one language to another.

After several attempts I could see that we had an Abbot-Costello “Who is on First” vaudeville scenario. Any further attempts to get the work done in this manner seemed hopeless. So I decided to try another approach to get the days work finished. The conductor, platoon sergeant and I identified each loaded car on the list of cars I had given him and the platoon sergeant circled the number of that loaded car with a piece of chalk for quick identification so those cars could be drilled from all the other cars and switched to an empty track for the assembly of an outbound train. All of this the conductor and crew understood and we did get the train dispatched to the consignee that morning.

Austrian composer Johann Strauss wrote the very beautiful song “The Blue Danube Waltz.” But the waters of the Danube River are a dirty brown and not blue. I know because I saw it every day for three or four weeks as we repaired the bridge.

In July of 1945 the 188th Combat Engineer Battalion was deactivated. Those with the required (60) points were returned to the United States to be discharged. The rest of us were assigned to other engineer units that were retained in the Army of Occupation. I was assigned to the 243rd. Engineer Combat Battalion which was to remain as a member of the Army of Occupation. I was only with the 243rd. for about a month and then I was ordered to report to an assembly area in Regensburg for transport to Camp Lucky Strike in Le Harve, France. I traveled for two days and nights in a box car. The box cars were were named,” 40 & 8″ box cars. Those numbers meant the capacity of the box car was Forty Horses or Eight Men. It certainly was not the Broadway Limited of the Pennsylvania Railroad. The accomodations included two buckets for sanitary use and several cases of rations. The rations were C Ration, K rations or 10 in 1 type. Fresh water you carried in you canteen. There were eight or ten occupants assigned to each 40 & 8 box car. This is how I remember it sixty five years after the event.

On arrival at Camp lucky Strike we were assigned to a tent enclosure for eight or ten people. We were at Camp Lucky Strike for about ten days. The rumor mill ran wild all day and every day. Then the Japanese surrendered and it became a whole new ball game. We were then told that we would be going to the States and given a leave of absence after which we would   be assigned to another unit or be sent to a Repo Depot.    Early one morning in the middle of August we were told to prepare to board a Liberty Ship named the John Cropper at noon. We gathered our gear and were taken by a buses or trucks to the dock at Le Harve and loaded aboard The John Cropper. One of our shipmates who was assigned to the same quarters as me told me that he was sea sick on every voyage he had ever made and expected the same for this trip. Yes,He was. We departed from Le Harve, France at 5 o’clock on August 18,1945 and set sail for the United States.

There were about 325 of us plus the crew on board.  About the third day at sea we encountered a heavy storm and the ship bounced around like a cork. Most of the 325 passengers were seasick but fortunately I was not one of them.   Thirteen days after departing Le Harve, France we entered New York harbor.   I was preparing my gear for docking. It was 9AM on August 31st. when I heard a voice exclaiming “There is the Statue of Liberty”.   I hurried to get on deck to see the Lovely Lady of Freedom. I heard another voice shout “We are Home”. This was confirmed a short time later when I saw and heard a band playing and the Red Cross ladies waving and welcoming us home.

In 1944 as we fought our way across Europe, I often heard a fellow soldier say “Back Alive in “45”. Yes indeed, it had all come true.

Wilfrid R. Riley
188th. Engineer Combat Battalion
Third Army

In mid December the Battalion was performing all the tasks that are peculiar to being a combat engineer. However work on all of these projects ceased when we were ordered by Third Army Headquarters to join the other units that were ordered north to stop the massive German penetration of our lines in the First Army area.

We departed from Keskastle in the Saar Valley on the morning of December 20th. and joined the thousands of American soldiers heading for Belgium. Several times during the move north we had to move to the side of the road and permit armored units to pass through us. Armored units were apparently needed ASAP. During one of these halts I was asked about our final destination and said that information had not been given to me before our departure. The look of concern on his face told me that he was very concerned. I told him-someday “Grif” if we survive all of this we will be sitting in our rockers with our favorite libation in our hand and we will smile as we remember moments like this. I hope he did because I have.

We stopped for a day in Longuyon, France and then on to Marteiange, Belgium on the borders of France and Luxembourg. Marteiange was to to be the base of our operations in the the Battle of the Bulge. That night B Company was given the assignment of outposting Martelange as the next town north, Bigonville was held by the Germans. A company to build a Bailey Bridge across the Sure River to provide two way traffic across the river. C Company was to be held in reserve.

My platoon moved out of Martelange toward Bigonville with the arrival of darkness and as we neared our assigned location to set up a defensive position we were commanded to halt. In the darkness I could not see the source of the command. Then a voice commanded the soldier wearing the long coat to move forward. That was me and after a few steps I was again ordered to halt. Then there was the request for the password followed by questions about cities in the USA and questions about baseball etc. When the challenger was satisfied he told me to advance once again. I did as commanded and very soon I saw an American battle tank sitting next to a small building under a tree, well concealed for such a large unit. Looking up I saw the muzzle of the cannon and in my minds eyes it was at least twenty four inches in diameter. The voice coming from the tank said “Soldier if I was in your shoes I would get rid of that long coat you are wearing because in it you sure as hell look like a German soldier” In the freezing weather I could not discard the coat so I tucked it into my waist and inquired if that looked better. An affirmative reply was received. {Our supply sergeant gave me a mackinaw coat to wear the next day after I told him the story} I was given permission to move on by the voice that I never did see.

We moved on to our assigned location which was close by and the platoon was soon located in the best positions to defend the area around the road crossing. Nothing unusual occurred during the night but at first light a column of tanks approached us from the East and stopped when they saw us. Up went the hatch on the lead tank and an officer asked our identity after identifying himself. He asked if we had seen our heard any thing during the night. He was told that we heard a lot of vehicle movement in Bigonville during the night. With that the hatch closed and tanks proceeded toward Bigonville. In a very short time the sounds of battle were heard. We remained alert for whatever might happen.

The first group of prisoners the armored infantry brought out of the town included an officer, a captain. He was dressed in a dark red uniform and wearing an overseas cap of the same color. He seemed to be dressed for a classroom rather than a battlefield, all of the other prisoners were in battlefield gray uniforms and wore a steel helmet or were bareheaded.

Other groups of prisoners were brought out of town and into the midst of of the area we were defending where they were thoroughly searched by the Fourth Armored Division soldiers. Later they were loaded into trucks and taken to a collection point and that is an assumption on my part. They did not say and I did not ask. In mid afternoon the town was in the hands of the 4th Armored Division and our mission was finished and we returned to Martelange for the night.

On December 24th., Christmas Eve the 188th. Engineers and the 249th. Engineer Battalions were placed in the line east of Martelange. The 4th. Armored Division had progressed nearly to Bastogne and was ready to breech an opening in the German defense. The two Engineer Battalions and two Artillery Battalions were to take the positions now occupied by the 4th Armored Division. When the Engineer and Artillery Battalions were in place The 4th Armored units would move back thru them and move east and sweep around the left into Bastogne. We began the process of digging in which was very difficult if almost impossible as the snow was thigh deep and the ground was frozen solid. Where is the TNT when you really need it?

All night the friendly fire from the Artillery was reassuring and especially when the familiar sound of incoming whistling shells was not heard throughout the night. However the Germans did launch flares all night long and they illuminated the area as if it were daylight.   We froze in place to avoid detection. The Germans did not attack and we were perfectly satisfied to hold our position. At noon on Christmas Day we were relieved by elements of the 6th Cavalry Division. We moved to an area in the rear where our mess personnel had a wonderful Christmas dinner prepared for us.

The maneuver of the 4th Armored Division of moving out as we moved in was a successful one. The next day December 26th, they smashed thru the German defenses and the siege of Bastogne was ended. On that day we were briefed on our next assignment, but that is another story for another time.

Let s start when I left Boston Harbor in October 1944, on the USS Wakefield I cruise ship, Manhattan), destination Liverpool, England. I am trying to recall dates from my memory, but I do recall not staying in Liverpool for long. We picked up our equipment and we left England, were put on that a landing craft infantry and headed for Europe. The English Channel was a little rough and land mines were a float, so we were delayed while mine sweepers were called in to clear the way.

We landed in France and went by trucks to an area outside of St. Vith, Belgium, and we set up our two man tents for the night. It started to snow about 11:00 PM and sometime in the night we were greeted by a German patrol, as they left a note on our tent (written in the snow) “Welcome 106^th to the front”. The next few days we were sent to St. Vith (note: picture enclosed) to our headquarters, which was set up in a Catholic Church, (the plaque in picture was dedicated to the 106^th Division in 2010) Picture notes: The picture from left to right: Daniel Reiland, president of Disable Veterans Luxembourg. Lady was the only person in family to survive at 105 attacks by our division artillery. She was saved by a German trooper who fell dead on top of her. She was only seven (7) years old at that time. Her husband stands next to me and by the plaque. Her name is Johanna Gallo and her husband is Hubert. As Johanna told us her story It inspired me and to this day she has only the highest regard for troops and vets.

To continue with the story, my wire crew was sent to Schoenberg, Belgium, where we set up in a home near four (4) corners of the town on a river. This was around the 10^th of December, 1944. We conducted our operations from here. Laid wire for the division on the evening of the 15^th, from 11:00pm to about 1:00am. We were bombarded by a V-2 rocket, which landed about 300 yards from where we were working. The explosion was so great that it blew us and the truck we were working with, off the road and into the ditch. No one in our company or any trucks was hurt or damaged. When we returned, I was told to get some sleep, as I was to operate the switchboard early in the morning around 4 am.

When I started my watch, the Germans were shelling the City of Schoenberg. The commander in St. Vith called and told us that we were under attack, but we were to hold our position until 5 am. We stayed until 6 am at which time our Sgt. told us to start packing the gear and shut down operations.

Now as we were leaving for St. Vith a German tiger tank was coming down the hill, with his gun pointed directly at us. A 81^st engineer Sgt. climbed onto that tank and put a grenade down its turret and stopped them from firing. We then proceeded to St. Vith and arrived at our headquarters. That same night we were surrounded by the Germans! Army headquarters sent the Airborne Troops to get us out. Note: My life and many others will always be thankful for their help.

I was later sent to the North into the Netherlands with six (6) new 2^nd Lieutenants (field commissioned). Our F/Sgt. from headquarters was one of them. Later I went to Velamen, then to Stuttgart, Manlier, Wenham, Frankfurt, and onto Paris, France. I was assigned to the 17^th base Post Office (parcel post and rewrap). When Germany surrendered and the shooting ceased, I was able to see a lot of Germany and France, while traveling for and with the Army.

I waited on the Gare de L’Est Station platform. The train to Rheims would leave momentarily. I stayed at the far end, worried about M.P.’s. I had been AWOL, absent without leave, for two weeks. As soon as I boarded that train I would be safe. There was constant confusion due to troop redeployment. I would just slip back into the crowd at Camp Boston; no one would know I had been gone.The war had ended in August. Thank God, Harry Truman had them drop the atomic bomb. That was one of the greatest things that had ever happened to men in the U.S. military. Like most infantrymen I had expected to die on the beaches of Japan. Millions of Americans were headed home. The redeployment camps shifted into high gear, shipping everyone back to the States. Tens of thousands arrived and departed these camps weekly. This huge shuffle of men and units made for massive confusion and clerical errors.

My combat unit, my wartime family, had been deactivated months earlier. We were transferred from one paper unit to another as the army was contracted. We had no duties. You sat in a tent among hundreds of other tents. Some days the weather was clear. More often, as the fall progressed, it was dreary, overcast and depressing. You could sleep all day. You could read, play cards; go to the PX – what ever you chose to do. It was a boring, uneventful life. Due to the constant shuffle of men from one unit to another you knew no one, you had no friends. It could drive you crazy. You waited in limbo. You were in a time warp.

Rather than going stir crazy in camp I had spent recent weeks partaking the joys of Paris. Three-day passes were plentiful. After a while though going back and forth became a nuisance. Why not just stay in Paris? I had nothing else to do but sit in a tent and wait. But how to do it? The answer: liberate a blank pad of passes and write my own liberty passes. Everything was so screwed up who would ever know.

As a result I had a wonderful time in recent weeks. Paris sun-lit cafes were full. The company was great, the French girls exciting and accommodating. There was lots of wine and cognac. Money was available through the black market. As the song goes: “Summer time, life is easy and the days are long.” What more could a twenty two year old want? Don’t worry about tomorrow. Live for today. Now I had to get back to camp. I knew I was stretching my luck. Once there I would be OK. My immediate danger was Military Police on the look out for AWOL’s.The train’s engine whistled. It was time to go. I hurried to board. Two M.P.’s appeared-l hadn’t spotted them. “Soldier-let’s see your papers”. I gave them the pass I had forged a couple of days earlier.

“This says you were due back in Camp Boston at noon today. It’s two PM now. You’re kind of late aren’t you Malloy?” “I’m on my way on that train. I’ll be in camp by four. There won’t be a problem.” The other MP, said to his partner,” He’s absent without leave by his own admission.” The first MP, “I think you better come along with us. We’re going to check you out.”

I got in their jeep. We traveled a couple of miles and arrived in front of an old, forbidding looking, fortress-like, building. It must have been two hundred years old. We went inside. They stood me in front of a tall desk. An older be-speckled Gl looked down at me. “What have you got him for?” “AWOL by his own admission.” “Book him.'” “OK Sarge.” They took me to another area. “Empty your pockets of everything you got on you.” They searched me. They took my billfold, my watch, my barracks bag and some other things. They sealed them in a package. I signed it. “Take off your shoestrings.” “Why?” “Shut your mouth and do as you are told.”

They walked me down a long, dark passageway, the high walls cold and dank. A cell door  as opened. They shoved me in. The gate to freedom clanged shut behind me. I entered my cage. There were nine other prisoners. I spotted the spare bunk and climbed into it. What happens now? Here I am-how do I keep it together? All I had were the clothes on my back and the small bag the MPs had confiscated. A Pfc. in the infantry didn’t have much or need much. Uncle Sam took care of him.

The cell was a bleak, barren space. There were eight double bunks. The ceiling was high, the single window barred. There was a sink and toilet stool in the corner-no walls or door. You had to do your job in full view. Three light bulbs, hung from the ceiling, provided light. .

We were in a holding tank. The Military Police gathered those violating military law and held them here until transferred back to their unit. Their company commander would confer punishment-from minor detention, to a major court martial with prison time. It was clear the key to getting out of this place was to make your unit aware you were held here. Most men would leave in less than a week.

My problem was I had three new company commanders who had come and gone. No one in command at Camp Boston knew me. The turnover among all personnel was constant. No one knew anyone. When men arrived, some shipped out immediately; all had to wait until their number came up. My hope now was that some one at Camp Boston would know me and get me transferred back there. I didn’t know who that person might be. Nothing happened for two days. On the third day a guard shouted through the door. “Malloy, front and center.” A guard walked me to an office. A Gl clerk sat at his desk. “Sit down. I want you to tell me what outfit you really belong to. We couldn’t find you in Camp Boston. And don’t lie to me. It will only make it worse.”

I explained I had been transferred in name only to different outfits. That was normal procedure. Soldiers with too few points for discharge were transferred on paper to a new unit. I had given up trying to keep track of all that. I told him, “With all the confusion in Camp Boston the best bet would be to try to track me through my former combat outfit, the 291st Regiment.” I could tell he thought I was lying. Back to my cell, this time for days. Three weeks crawled by and still no word. I felt a terrible isolation. Depression swallowed me. As time passed I fell into the black abyss of despair. Now I understood why they took my shoestrings, they wanted to prevent an attempt at suicide.

As the days passed, I went to the window and pushed my hand out as far as I could-at least part of me was outside this hellhole. Still no word. I lost track of time. I gave up hope. I would rather die than live like this. I heard a bird one day. Oh to be a bird. One day: ” Malloy, front and center!” They took me back to the clerk. I signed for my personal effects. They gave me my bag. They told me nothing. “Get in the jeep.” We drove east for two hours. The M.P.’s ignored me. What now? There it was-Camp Boston-home. The M.P.’s turned me over to the company clerk. He signed a receipt for his prisoner.

A Captain I had never seen appeared. He looked at me. “So you are Malloy, the guy who has been AWOL for more than a month. You and your buddies have cost me more trouble than you will ever know. I have had my ass chewed out because of the likes of you. I’m going to make an example of you. It will put the fear of God into anyone else who thinks like you.” The Captain called out, “Sergeant Eisenberg come out here.” My God, it was my old First Sergeant from the 291st. All at once I saw hope.

“This is one of that AWOL crowd. See this bum is put under guard. I’ll deal with him when I return from Paris next week.” “Yes Sir,” Eisenberg said. Eisenberg didn’t acknowledge me. I kept my mouth shut. A guard took me to my tent. I knew no one. I sat on my cot. It felt good. Now what? Several hours later a corporal appeared.” I’ll take over,” he told the guard. “Grab your gear, Malloy, all of it.” He had a jeep. We drove for an hour.

We arrived at Camp Baltimore. We went to Company Headquarters and found the First Sergeant. “Sergeant I’m delivering this fellow from Camp Boston. Eisenberg said he had talked with you about him.” “OK, I’ll sign for him. Welcome to your new outfit, Malloy. Eisenberg and I are old buddies. He gave me a good report on you.” The Corporal turned to leave. “Malloy keep your mouth shut. Eisenberg said to tell you good luck. He also told me to tell you to walk the straight and narrow from now on.”

Army officers give commands but the Army is run by the noncoms. I was free and clear-Hallelujah! After all these years, I still have a special place in my heart for Eisenberg. I still can feel cold fear in my bones when I recall that desolate old French prison. I’ve walked the straight and narrow for more than sixty-five years. I learned recently Eisenberg, like so many of my comrades, had died. Time marches on.

Browse Malloy’s book at Amazon.com “Making John A Soldier.”
John P. Malloy 291^st HQ Co. 75^th Division
Contact author: mapj12@gmail.com