I was born and raised in San Francisco and enlisted in the Army’s Field Artillery at age 18 in 1942. Unlike many others who forged parental signatures until turning 21, the legal age, I finally got my folks to sign when I turned 18 in Oct. 1942 and enlisted Oct. 27, 1942. I trained at Fort Bragg, N. Carolina and embarked for England in December 1943.

We had no sense of time or calendar and knew the invasion was on due to the tremendous amount (10,000) aircraft overhead.  We moved, we moved, closer and closer to South Hampton until boarding the LCT and embarked for France from South Hampton in flat-bottomed LCTs (landing craft tank).  Much seasickness ensued that day. 

By D+1 and D+2 the invasion fighting had moved off the beach and up into the hedgerow country.  Can’t tell you exactly when we landed at Omaha “Easy Red” beach.  I do know XIX Advance Corps Party landed like D+6 to set up the HQ people but we had nothing to do with them.  We were Corps Artillery so I would guess we landed about D+10.  We supported the 29th Infantry and 30th Infantry and 2nd Armored Divisions throughout the war.

If you Google up LCT (landing craft tank) you’ll see the flat-bottomed craft we came over in with two of our howitzers, the M-4 Tractors that pulled them and a jeep and 3/4 ton truck.  When the LCT came to a halt we went off into four feet of water.  The Jeep was covered over with water. All of our equipment had been waterproofed by us with snorkels for air intake.  The Krauts were sending over occasional artillery shells.  (Google up M-4 Tractor to see what we rode in)

When LCT beached we never left our howitzer and we proceeded up an exit way to the top of the beach, went inland a ways and fired the first mission on the roads leading to St. Lo that the Krauts were using.

We were involved in the battles at Mortain & Falaise Gap. I was a gunner and machine gunner on an 8-inch howitzer gun section, recognized as the most accurate artillery piece in the US arsenal.  Our unusual howitzer accuracy allowed us to knock out enemy tanks and positions especially in the fighting in the hedgerows of Normandy.  We were set up in an orchard so when we fired the green apples rained down. Click on the following link to see a video about the 8 inch M115 towed howitzer.
 www.youtube.com/watch?v=BhIoBhga2Zs

We moved to new positions constantly.  Stay maybe overnight on missions or sometimes go into position ready to fire and the front had moved forward so, without firing a shot, we’d pack up and move to a new position. We never went thru the night with uninterrupted sleep—we either pulled our turn manning the phone to the Fire Direction Center or turning out for Fire Missions.  That gets tiring after a while, month after month with no rest.

We passed to the north of Paris and entered Belgium Sept. 3, proceeded into the Netherlands and began firing on Aachen, Germany, from Herleen, NL.   We were next involved in the bloody Hurtgen Forest battle where thousands of our lads were unnecessary casualties.  This was late November/early December. 

The Ardennes Offensive began on December 16,1944.  The weather was bitter cold, foggy and dreary.  All was quiet until Dec. 16 when the Krauts attacked.  There was chaos that slowly resolved itself into grim determination, desperation and numbness…you got it. 

“The Bulge” refers to the progress of the German offensive and to how far they pushed our lines back.  Winston Churchill is quoted as saying, “This is undoubtedly the greatest American battle of the war and will, I believe, be regarded as an ever famous American victory.” Two million men were involved in this the largest land battle the US Army has ever fought.

We were brought down to the St.Vith area.  Our missions depended on the targets spotted.  We wouldn’t fire non-stop unless necessary.  We were limited to the ammunition available to us.  Sometimes we’d get a FIRE MISSION at various times day or night. At chow time half of the gun crew would go to the rear to get fed so the rest of us had to carry out the mission.  Then, sometimes, by the time we had a chance to be fed, all the food was gone so our dinner was sometimes just a piece of bread and coffee. Or we ate combat rations.

As far as getting any hot food from December 1944 to February 1945 our cooks were able, once in a while, to bring hot food up in insulated Mermite cans.  The US Army has a tradition of always trying to get a turkey dinner to the troops on Thanksgiving and Xmas with all the trimmings.  Kinda hard to serve it up properly in that cold weather with everything served onto one’s cold mess kit all together with dessert slopped on top.  That was special.

Night time could be beautiful.  The searchlights would go on to create artificial moonlight for our Infantry lads.  There would be flares fired and the magnesium flares would light up an area as they came down on  little parachutes..  Machine gun tracers from our anti-aircraft guns would make pretty patterns in the sky because every 5^th round had the rear hollowed out and packed with a chemical that glowed when fired.  All this was to help the gunner zero in on his target. 

And the sounds that filled the night:  Of weapons firing by the Infantry machine guns, mortars going off and other artillery pieces firing.  And then the krauts would send over “Checkpoint Charlie” at night.  He’d come over, drop a few flares and take, we think, photos, drop a bomb or two, and with his distinctive engine sound disappear back to his own lines.  Sounded like the engine needed a tune-up.  

One memory I’ve had of this Xmas time was firing a mission and the FDC guys (Fire Direction Center) said, “You guys know that tonight’s Xmas Eve?”  That’s how we found out during the winter of ’44. 

Since our gun positions were generally in the open or at the edge of trees we were pretty well exposed to the chilling wind.  Frostbite casualties were common due to a lack of proper clothing and boots.  I wouldn’t know how cold it got without having a thermometer but it was the coldest winter in Europe in 40 years.  Reords show that temperatures plummeted from 40 degree days down to minus 10 to minus 20 F at nite.  Brrrr.   Bradley and even Ike felt the war would be over by Dec. 1944 so they had the manufacturing and shipment of winter clothing stopped.  Some supplies were in warehouses in France but the rear echelon guys got into those.  All we had were leather boots and were supposed to massage each others feet to prevent frostbite.  The medical Dx was “frozen feet” but in WWI it was called “trench foot”. 

Not much more than commiseration with my buddies held me together mentally during times of hardship as we were all in it together. Our bedding was just a wool Army blanket each.  Yes, just one blanket.  In December they issued us a mummy style sleeping bag which was a blanket with an outer shell and a zipper.  Eventually they got wool gloves, a wool scarf, a sweater and galoshes or overshoes to us at the front.  It was joked that it was so cold that it would freeze the balls off a brass monkey.  Don’t know where that expression came from but it always got a laugh. 

After we would get our howitzer into firing position, next we would did a hole for the projectiles and powder charges,  then  dig our personal fox holes, then dig a small slit trench, the width of a shovel blade, and thus we could squat and straddle the trench, cover it with some dirt we had dug.  TP was slid onto the handle of the shovel which was jammed into the dirt we had dug out.  It was quite an experience to squat in icy cold weather and expose your butt to the cold.

The Belgians generally cleared out as they were fearful of the reprisals from the Germans.  Those few who stayed opened their homes to the troops. If we stayed for a few days it would give us a chance to contact a farmer in France, N. Belgium, or Holland for cider, wine, or females.  We tried to lure them to our area with promises of food, cigarettes.  Not much success.  We could not talk with any German for fear of a fine of $65 (a months’ pay for privates).

On December 23 the skies finally cleared and all we heard were aircraft engines and saw contrails and there was cheering at the event.  Our guys parachuted in ammo, food and medicine to the encircled troops at Bastogne but unfortunately, the Krauts got some of the chutes.  After the war a German soldier reported that that he found a canned Hormel ham hanging from a parachute and had dined with a Belgium family that Christmas.  We pushed the Germans back into Germany and the Ardennes Offensive ended the beginning of February 1945.

When December weather comes in with its cold and fog, even after 68 years, my thoughts drift to the Bulge experience and I shiver as I remember those Bulge weather days of suffering. We moved eastward quickly and eventually found ourselves below Magdeburg, Germany in support of the 2nd Armored Division and the 83rd ID which both had bridges across and troops on the east side of the Elbe river until we were ordered to hold our positions.   This is now April 1945.

We went “scrounging” in Germany but couldn’t go far.  Some guys found weapons or other souvenirs.  If we found food we feared it might be poisoned.  Krauts knew we scrounged for wine and schnapps and would urinate into those bottles.  Once in a small town in Germany I went scrounging for a door to put over my foxhole to prevent shrapnel from coming in.  The house was untouched with even a beautiful crucifix on the wall and I spotted this grand piano.  I was angry at the Germans so, in a fit of adolescent stupidity, I destroyed a good part of the piano with my carbine so the residents would have something to suffer with.

We prepared to move for occupation duties in Giessen, Germany.  We liberated several German concentration camps and witnessed the results of the atrocities. Unfortunately we gave the starving inmates our high caloric rations which caused them distress and even death.  This liberating of POW and concentration camps came in our drive to the Elbe River. VE Day came May 8 and the Russians on the east bank of the Elbe River were celebrating. We could hear them yelling and firing into the air with their weapons.  Flares were going off and an accordion was playing.  I decided to take a lone journey across the pontoon bridge one day and got a ride in a jeep.   On the east bank of the Elbe I saw a column of rough looking Mongolian troops, female traffic cops, and their kitchens pulled by horses.  I thought, “I sure hope we never have to fight them.”  Ourselves, on the west bank of the Elbe River did no celebrating as we were due to ship out to battle in the Pacific.

In Giessen we guarded first the Polish and then the Russian DPs (Displaced Persons) or manned the checkpoints on the Autobahn.  One time we took a trainload of Russian DPs packed into box cars into the Russian Zone. The four of us had a boxcar to ourselves which was loaded up with Ten-in-One rations.  Our journey was overnight to the edge of Czechoslovakia.  We’d distribute the ration boxes to each car at mealtime stops. 

Our unit was broken up based on an individual’s point system and we were sent to one of the “cigarette camps” near La Havre for weeks of idleness while we waited for transportation home by ship. Finally I arrived home and was discharged December 13, 1945.  Upon discharge I enlisted in the Army Reserve and the University of California at Berkeley and eventually received a BS degree in Business.   My commission in the Army Reserve was from the battlefield according to the War Department Circular 32 for those who had been involved in combat.  This authorized the commissioning of enlisted individuals who had high AGCT (Army General Classification Test) scores and combat experience.  I had the 2nd highest score in the entire battalion.  I was offered officer candidate school and ASTP (where enlisted were sent to a college in the US and lived there).  I advanced through the ranks to become a Captain in 1950 with a total active and reserve time of 23 years. 

I slowly healed from “battle fatigue” after the war (now it’s termed Post Traumatic Stress Disability) by repressing the memories of my WWII experience.  I was wounded twice and the VA has declared me 100% disabled due to PTSD and wartime injuries which plague me still.  I was awarded the Purple Heart medal and the European Theater of Operations medal with battle stars for Normandy, Northern France, the Ardennes, Rhineland, and Central Europe campaigns.

After seven years I entered San Francisco State University where I studied for and received two MAs in Psychology and Business, with postgraduate work at Stanford University. I taught for a number of years before being assigned as a Guidance Counselor at Woodside High School on the San Francisco Peninsula, and retired in 1964.

 I belong to:
Military Officers Association
Military Order of the Purple Heart
Veterans of the Battle of the Bulge, Golden Gate Chapter, N. Calif. Bay Area
Third Thursday Veterans Lunch Bunch, Concord, Calif.
Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW)

Remembering World War II and the Battle of the Bulge
by Philip Walsh, 2^nd AD, 66^th AR, Co C

I was 18 years old when I got my draft notice from President Franklin Roosevelt.  It was 1943. The notice read “greetings from President Roosevelt” and went on to say I was drafted to the US Army. I had never been away from home before and I wondered if I would return home to Maine.

I was sent to Fort Devon’s, Massachusetts, for a few weeks where I received my army uniform and medical shots.  I recall walking down a narrow hallway and got shots in both of my arms. The fellow in front of me passed out after receiving his. I can still hear the guys who had already got their shots saying “you will be sorry.” They were right. They also warned me to watch out for the square needle that’s left in overnight.  I found out to my relief they were just kidding because I was a new recruit.

From there I was sent to Fort Knox, Kentucky, for 21 weeks of tank training. I remember being homesick, went to see the doctor, a major, who gave me some pink pills and said I would be fine.  I wasn’t.  I was still homesick. When our training ended we were sent to Fort George Meade, Maryland, for advanced training. Then I was sent to Camp Shanks, New York, to board the Aquitania for Europe.

I recall when we landed in Greenock, Scotland some Scottish girls greeted us and gave us muffins filled with meat. I took one bite and threw it out.  It tasted awful to me. We left Scotland by train to England.  By the time I arrived in England I was no longer homesick. It was more than 6 months since I left Maine. The war was underway, and by this time I figured I’d never get home alive.

When I was sent to France I was assigned to Company C 66 Armored Regimen, 2^nd Armored Division. Afterward I was deployed to Omaha Beach in June – six days after D-Day.  When I landed I asked the Beach Master if many men were killed. He said if anymore were killed no one would have gotten ashore. I remember one solider, in particular who landed on the beach with me. He was from the southern part of the States and was assigned to another tank because tank commander, Lt. Johnson, also from the south, picked him for his crew because of the connection to the south.

This was the first day in battle for us. Lt. Johnson’s tank was heading down a road between a row of hedges rows and ran over a mine.  The explosion blew a track off the tank. The crew climbed out of the tank, started to crawl on the ground and a mortar shell landed on the back of the soldier from the south. All that was left of him was a piece of his fly and belt buckle. It was terrifying.  Later I was told that Lt. Johnson was planning to get married in Paris after the war and arranged to have his bride’s wedding dress made from a parachute.  Unfortunately he was killed outside of Berlin at close range by one of Hitler’s Youth with a Panzer Faust bazooka after he stepped outside of his tank. 

We were never told where we would be deployed or given any details.  That was one thing I didn’t like about the Army.  After Omaha Beach we were sent to another location in France. We were on the front line for 21 days with the Germans firing at us from a train with artillery guns. I remember it sounded like a freight train coming at us. Three crew members and I barely left tank for the entire 21 days. It was too dangerous to stay outside for any length of time due to the constant shelling from the Germans.  We had to be extremely careful.

The ground around the tank was all torn up from shelling and the mud was a foot thick. Every time someone left the tank they would get about two inches of mud on their boots. I remember getting mud dropped on my shoulders whenever the tank commander, a schoolteacher, climbed back into the tank after checking our surroundings. I was seated at the machine gunner’s seat and there wasn’t any room to move.  It was very tight quarters inside the tank.  I also recall when the lieutenant was injured after a shell struck the side of the tank when he was underneath trying to cook a meal with a Coleman Burner.  He was taken to the aid station.

We had an opportunity to take prisoners. Seven Germans waving a white flag tried to surrender to us. One of our crew members fired at them and they took off.

After 21 days in France we were on the move again, this time to Germany. We arrived to a location that looked like a park and were able to sleep outside on the ground. One morning when I awoke, I noticed the tank was leaking. I looked inside and saw about three inches of gasoline on the bottom of the tank.  A new replacement had changed the fuel filters incorrectly on both Cadillac engines.  

Our next deployment was to Bastogne for combat at the Battle of the Bulge where I remained for the duration of the conflict. It was winter, freezing cold, and I drove an open top half track 100 miles in the pouring rain to Bastogne. Somewhere along the way I drove off the road.  I was very tired, soaking wet and it was difficult to see because there were no headlights. I accidentally backed into Captain A.Z. Owen’s tank. He hollered “get that man’s name.”  I was afraid he would send me to jail.  He didn’t do anything.

When we arrived at our destination near Bastogne we were exhausted and cold. We pitched our pup tents in the freezing temperatures and went to sleep shivering.  What amazes me now as I think back about sleeping in soaking wet, heavy Army clothes with my shoes frozen to the ground is that I never caught a cold.

Our tank was parked next to a farmhouse. The family living in the home felt sorry for us staying outside in the cold and they invited us in to dry our clothes and get warm. We stayed with them for several nights.  Unfortunately one of the soldiers flirted constantly with the homeowner’s wife. The husband got fed up and told us all to leave.

One time we liberated a couple of chickens and some vegetables from a Belgium farmhouse and I cooked it in a 5-gallon can. You cannot imagine how good this tasted on a cold day especially after living on K and K rations. It was the best chicken soup I had ever eaten. A captain from Georgia said to me, “Walsh where did you get the chickens from?” Another soldier spoke up and said he got a package from the states. This seemed to satisfy the captain who helped himself to the soup without asking any more questions.

Later during the battle I was asked to drive this same captain in a jeep to a command post set up in a house near Bastogne. When we arrived we saw the T/5 Sergeant who had flooded our tank with gas when he was assigned to our crew in France. He was on duty at the command post and did not salute the captain in my jeep. The captained yelled to the T/5 sergeant “Salute me.”  He obeyed.

When the Battle of the Bulge ended, I was deployed to Berlin. We were the first troops to arrive in Berlin after World War II ended.  I was transferred to the 12^th Armored Division and sent to Marseilles, France where I prepared to go home.  It was 1946. I am proud to have served my country, but I wouldn’t want to go through this again.

We were now fighting Hitler’s’ First SS Division. This was his best division which had direct orders from Adolph Hitler himself to kick our A’s out of there.  We actually beat them up pretty bad in Mortain, France. I heard that Axis Sally was on the radio and said this time they were to annihilate that 30^th Division. After we got done with them in Stavelot , the Germans dismantled their division.  The Germans had about twenty-nine Divisions of their best troops that returned from the Russian front to throw in this battle, so there were many SS Troopers.

We came to the little city of STAVALOT, BELGIUM.  The Germans gave us a hell of a fight and ran us out a couple times, and finally we went back in and stood our ground. It was about Christmas time.  Fighting in the city was different. In the city we had buildings to go into get away from the cold and snow that was always there.   We didn’t have to dig foxholes in the city. The temperature was from plus twenty to minus five for the entire Bulge Battle.  I spent my twenty second birthday in this city, and it could have been on this day that a sniper almost got me.       

We left Stavelot around the first of Jan, 1945.  The other Companies caught up with us and then we were out in the field all the time, sometimes digging three fox holes a day. We did most of our moving at night so the enemy could not see us. It was so cold I would hock down in the fox hole on my heels, and shiver so hard that my teeth would rattle and my knee’s would get sore and hurt just from shaking.  There were at least three nights I thought I would just freeze to death and not wake up. When morning came the honeycomb frost would be about three inches thick at the top of the fox hole, pretty and crisp. All we wore was our wool uniforms, wool overcoat, and socks, knit woolen cap, helmet liner, steel helmet and wool gloves. I had no real boots, only combat boots that were twelve inches tall.    

One of the nights, we got into position and they talked about holding there for a day or so.  I got a very nice foxhole dug, put twigs in the bottom and laid some pine twigs over part of the top which got it pretty warm.  I was going to have a warm night at last. It was all ready, the best fox hole I ever dug. About ten in the evening the word came out, “We’re taking off.” I was so discouraged I didn’t care if someone would shoot me right then. This may have been a lucky break. We hadn’t gone seventy five feet and ran into an evergreen clumps; ever greens around a fox hole. I think six Germans were in there. They didn’t want to give up first and I thought we were going to have a little gun fire.  We were all ready to let them have it when they finally came out and gave up. If anyone would have let one shot go we would have had a slaughter.     The snow was so deep that we would trade off with the front guy to cut the track. We walked all night, and I  told the officer we most probably were going behind the German lines. About four in the morning we came on a hill that overlooked a small group of homes in the valley. The Germans were eating their breakfast.  I could hear their silverware rattle (that is close combat). We stopped to dig in. I told my foxhole buddy to start cutting twigs with his pocket knife for we needed a cover over.  When the Germans find out we were this close they would have all kinds of artillery coming in. With this being in a wooded area, those shells would hit the trees and explode and send shrapnel down on us. After getting those twigs across the foxhole we would throw ground on top to keep shrapnel from hitting us. This was OK.  I was on my knees, digging as fast as I could with my rifle standing against a tree about eight feet away. Someone down the way from me called out, “there are Germans behind you”. As we have done many times, we would kid someone even if we were to get killed the next minute. I never paid attention to this, though in the corner of my eye I thought I caught some thing. When I stopped to look around there stood three German SS soldiers with their burp guns and hands up.  They were close enough that I could have shaken hands with them. The first thing I thought, “My rifle!”   There it was eight feet from me against the tree. Right away they asked to give up, saying, “Comrade, comrade.” I’ve been lucky throughout the war. I have taken so many prisoners, I don’t know if I looked so forgiving. Later I found out that we dug our foxholes in the same area the Germans were dug in. After we found out about that we took a lot of prisoners.    

On another night we marched most of the night coming to our position and the ground was frozen.   This time I found a German foxhole. It was pitch dark and I got down on my knees to feel around in it to see if there was a German in there. It was empty, but he must not have had too much training on digging, for it was too wide and not deep enough. But I managed to squeeze under in it. This one had a cover with ground over it. This was my luck for the Germans shelled the area all night. I could hear and feel those shells go off all around this foxhole. I thought the only way they could get me was if one would land right in my hole. The next morning when it got light, of course the shelling stopped before daybreak; I got out of the fox hole.  I had a hard time getting out. The ground on top had settled down with weight and it was smashing me. I managed to get out. When I did, I found a lot of my buddies that didn’t get cover lying all around in pieces. One look and all I could do was to walk away. The officer was getting the guys ready to march out; there were only eleven GI’s. We were standing in a group waiting for two guys that were still coming. After five minutes I got the feeling that we should spread out, for we were a perfect target for the Germans.  So I walked out away from the group.  The officer ordered me to come back to the group and I told him it was a good target for the Krouts; but he insisted.  As I walked back a shot come in.  An 88mm artillery shell, it was a tree burst about fifty feet away, and again I took off.   I knew that the next one would be right on us.  I have seen this happen too often. The officer insisted that we group up. Well I did obey his orders and I just got back when this 88-mm shell came in and exploded, maybe eight feet from me. I was looking right at it; just a big three-foot orange ball of fire. Thank God I was ok, my buddies not so lucky.       

The days went on in those fox holes; we were gaining ground mostly in the night.  There was less opposition from the enemy since they could not see us come. There were a lot of surprises though. The weather was our worst enemy as we were always trying to keep from freezing. I think I was out there two weeks at a time without seeing the inside of a building. It’s amazing how much torture the body can take.         

Sometime during the first part of January 10^th, 1945 near Five Points, they took part of the GI’s back off the lines to a town named SPA, Belgium. They took us to the bath house, “Spa.”  It was the first bath I had in a couple months. It was the first time I had my shoes off, or any clothes changed during that time. This was a copper bath tub and mineral water was used. Our clothes were so dirty they could stand up. We got all clean clothes.  This sure felt good, and the best part was that we could walk around without being shot at.  What a difference!                    

One afternoon we got ready to take a small town. This was something different. It was the first day attack we had for a long time. Being about a half mile from the town, the tanks started to come up from the forest behind the infantry. One of the tanks stopped about fifteen feet behind my foxhole. I told him to get back in the forest since the Krauts would start firing at him, but no they let it there. It wasn’t long and the shells started coming. Our foxhole wasn’t dug big enough since we were only going to be there a short time. My buddy was in the foxhole. When the shelling started, there wasn’t room for me to get in.  I dove in and layed across my buddy, figuring I would be killed anyway and maybe could save him. With hands over my head, I just said LORD here I come. I never ever heard so much shrapnel around my head. It was like having a hive of bees dumped on me, and to this day I don’t understand why this didn’t burst my eardrums. I think they shot about three shells at the tank. They did explode that tank and killed everyone in it. We were about fifteen feet from it.  Again I was thankful for all those prayers going on back home.    

On the front lines all your senses work better than ever. I knew the sound of each tank, plane, gun or anything. I knew whose artillery made each sound.  It was called survival.            

We got so far ahead of the rest of the units that we had to hold our position for several days sitting in those fox holes and freezing to death. It wasn’t so bad when we moved every day and dug a couple fox hole to keep us half warm. The Commander and Medic usually came around each day since so many men were getting frost bite. This time when they got to my position I felt like I was getting a cold, so I asked the medic for an aspirin or something before it would hit me.  He told me I should give my BAR to my buddy and go back to Company aid. I told him I didn’t feel that bad and I wasn’t going to walk a half-mile in the snow.   This situation went on and about an hour later the Medic and the Officer came back to me, and insisted I go back.  When they come back to me it rang a bell.  What do they know that I don’t?  I thought I’d better follow orders. I gave my BAR to my buddy and took his M1, and headed back to Company Aid.  I didn’t go far when I quickly learned what the problem was. I could hardly walk.  When the blood started to circulate in my feet, it felt awful.  I was in luck when a weasel came along bringing food to the lines. He gave me a lift to the Company Aid station, which was an old brick house that was partly shot away.  I got inside and there lay a few GI’s.  I’ve never seen people so tough and and brave as I have ever seen in combat. This was the 22^nd of January 1945. I never knew this date until fifty years later and the people from the Anniversary Committee in Stavolot told me. I will always say that this saved my life. 

When the doc got to me, I said my feet were hurting, he told me to take off my shoes.  He took a pin and started to prod around and I couldn’t feel a thing. He told me to lie on a stretcher.  I told him I could walk to the ambulance. He gave me orders right there that I was not to walk on my feet. (The only way you get off the front lines is for them to carry you off). That afternoon they took me to a field hospital, which was a tent. I was laid on a cot with white sheets. There was heat in the tent and hot soup.  If heaven is better than this I got to see it. And if hell is as bad as the front lines, you better be good.  I’ve gone through all but four days of the Battle of the Bulge. My number would have come up if I hadn’t got off the front lines. We were in the Dillburg Forest, not far from RECHT, Bois-D’Emmels, near Rodt and overlooking St Vith, Belgium.                                                                                              

In those six weeks of the Battle of the Bulge, Americans had over ninety thousand casualties, more than 2000 per day. Some guys only lasted a day in combat. It was the largest battle ever fought in the world. From this field hospital on the 24^th of January, I was taken to a hospital in Paris, France where I was for nearly ten days. I was then transported to an England hospital. I reentered the war as a 1^st Sergeant at a POW camp.

The 179th FA Bn landed on Utah Beach, Normandy, France on 13 August 1944 as part of General George S. Pattern’s Third Army and attached to Fourth Armored Division. Our first brush with the enemy came the following night. We had our first fire mission on 22 August 1944 at dusk. Our artillery battalion stayed at Bois-ie-Rot, France from 22-24 August, m a short time we destroyed fourteen artillery pieces, horse drawn train and several hundred Germans, m this position the 179^th had three men killed. I looked in a burned out German tank and observed one of the tank crew that had burned and about all that was left was his intestines still in place looking like link smoked sausage.

The 179^th FA Bn was assigned the task of holding outpost at Fresnes-ne-Saulnois, France from 19-24 September 1944. Under dense fog a German tank was firing down on us from the hill above. Our artillery started firing point blank at the tank. The climax came on me fifth day when it was determined mat Germans were preparing a strong counter attack. I manned an outpost several hundred yards from the Battery with my machine gun in place and dug a two man foxhole. My partner and I sat back to back to observe both directions. It was raining steadily and mere were two of our men with bazookas about fifty feet away. About mid-aftenoon you could hear tanks beginning to rumble. It was overcast and still raining. Tanks were on our right moving toward our outfit I was continually praying to my God for help. There were several tanks in mat group. The clouds began to part In a little while, a squadron of P-47 fighter planes was circling overhead waiting for a clearing. It wasn’t long before they started diving on moving tanks with machine guns firing and well-aimed bombs stopped me German tank movement. One of the planes didn’t come out of the dive and exploded on contact with the ground. While this was taking place, there was much smoke and explosions. The 179th FA finished the task. The 35th Infantry Division relieved the 179th before nightfall. The 179^th was recommended for the Presidential Citation for defense of this critical spot. The 179^th had two men killed.

The 179^th went in a holding position at Athienville, France from 28 September to 1 November 1944. On a quiet Sunday afternoon in mid-October, I was writing a letter home. I was sitting in a vehicle that my machine gun was pedestal mounted on. “B” Battery commanding officer was strolling around me battery area and stopped and was talking with me. At this time we heard me chatter of machine gun fire and roar of planes. I manned my machine gun and told the battery commander to get in my foxhole. The battery commander was larger than I and had difficulty squeezing in my foxhole. Scanning the sky, I saw German ME-109 fighter plane coming my way at tree top level to my left. I started firing just before the plane crossed in front of me. My tracers showed mat the plane was being riddled by machine gun fire and started a nose dive. The plane crashed landed about 300 feet to my right, exploding on impact with the ground. The battery commander was pleased with me results that Sunday. Five ME-109 fighter planes were attacking our area and five planes were shot down. On the first day of November 1944 the 179^th  FA left Athienville, France, going toward Germany.

On the afternoon of 19 December, the 179^th  FA left position Maginot Line at Rimling, France where our batteries were firing across the German border. We were unaware at me time that we were headed for the Battle of me Bulge in Belgium and Luxembourg. During the period of 11-17 December, me 179^th FA Bn was called upon twice to furnish five percent of its table of organization strength for infantry replacements. In addition to my machine gun duties and because of me ammunition section manpower shortage, I was called on to assist the ammo section with unloading, stockpiling and delivery of 97 pound projectiles plus powder charges to the battery gun section. During the Bastogne mission, the 179^th FA Bn was firing over 1,000 rounds of 97 pound projectiles in a 24 hour time frame. The temperature got down in the range of 13 degrees below zero and mostly in the zero range while supporting the 4^th Armored Division during the Bastogne mission. The snow was deep and we used quarter pound TNT charges to break me crust of the ground in order to dig foxholes. My shoes cracked where they bent and hurt my feet I cut strips from a wool blanket and wrapped my feet and stuffed them in my oversized rubber boots. My blood soaked woolen underwear would freeze to my backside and with any movement, I could feel and hear me cracking. I was evacuated on 31 December 1944 by the battalion medic. Arriving at the hospital in Luxembourg City, I was put in a bathtub and warm water was continuously poured on my backside and me underwear was cut off a little bit at the time until it was all removed. I was then sent to a convalescent hospital in Nancy, France. When I was finally healed and I was released from the hospital back to duty, I returned to my outfit I have many more memories of the Battle of the Bulge and me 179^th FA Bn travel across Europe from Normandy to Czechoslovakia, with Luxembourg, Belgium, Germany and Austria in between, that I could ever put on paper!

The end of January, the Bulge was no more and the 179^th went in the holding position from 1-24 February 1945 at Siebenater (Bockholz), Luxembourg near the German border. “B” Battery moved in this large field that was covered with snow that was pretty deep and had small raised up mounds scattered around the field. Since we were in a holding position the kitchen truck set-up and began serving us hot meals. After a few weeks, the rains came and me snow melted. The small mounds scattered m the field turned out to be dead German soldiers. On 24 February 1945 we moved out of this area and went into Germany supporting me 4m Armored Division.

In Germany around March 1945 while stopped on a road in the country-side for a period of time, an enemy soldier (sniper) began firing on our column from a field. I kept looking and preparing to fire my 50 caliber machine gun but couldn’t see him. Firing continued at intervals and one of me artillery gun crew called out that he saw the sniper rise up and shoot He instructed me to watch his small caliber tracer mat he was going to fire. I watched me location of the tracer, which appeared to be near some small bushes located near what looked like a drainage ditch. After a few minutes I saw the sniper rise up to fire again. At this time I fired a good many shots because of the distance between the sniper and myself. After firing, I didn’t see me sniper again. In a few minutes I saw our half-truck going in the direction of where I had fired with the executive officer and several non-coms. They got out of me vehicle and were standing in a group looking down watching the sniper die. They got back in the vehicle and went back to the front area of die column. The incident was never mentioned, even though many of the battery had seen what happened. About 30 or 40 years later, I asked one of the non-coms (who later became first sergeant) who was in the half-truck checking on what I was shooting at, if I had dreamed that incident His reply to my question was, “That incident was no dream. I have waited all of these years for you to ask me about it” He said, “The German soldier mat I had shot was nearly cut in two and he had the SS tattoo showing mat he was one of Hitler’s elite troopers.” He also said that the German soldier had a P-38 pistol (hat was hit with one of my shots.

On 1 April 1945, Easter Sunday, in a small town or village near Frankfurt, Germany, our battery had pulled out on the road from the field, where we had bivouac me night before. While waiting for the Battalion to move out, I had my K-ration breakfast. Our vehicle was one of the last in column. The rest of me Battery and Battalion were stretched out through the town. There was a small low fenced in apple orchard next to me road and a barn with an open hayloft feeing me road. I had a nature call and stepped over me fence thinking I was out of sight At this time, what sounded like a German burp gun (rapid fire) started shooting and dirt was flying all over me. I looked up toward me barn and the open hayloft and saw some German soldiers around what seemed to be a jammed burp gun because it was not firing anymore. I jumped me low fence, climbed on my vehicle and started firing my 50 caliber machine gun. In a very short time the bam and hayloft were in flames. There was no activity seen in me hayloft. About the same time, snipers throughout the town started firing on our column which had started March order. Machine guns throughout the column started firing on the snipers as we went through the town. That night* we were a distance from me town that we had left and you could still see the red glow of fire in the sky.

In Germany around April 1945, we were going up a hill and it had been raining. Dead German soldiers had fallen all along the edge of the road, probably from machine fire from our tanks or fighter planes. I was manning my machine gun mounted on the tractor pulling our 155mm howitzer. Vehicles in front of us had made a rut, sliding a little bit sideways; one of the dead German soldier’s head was right beside the rut The large tires on our 155mm howitzer were sliding in line with the soldier’s head. I couldn’t look at what I thought would happen. I didn’t look back. The sight of our sliding howitzer will always be in my memory. On our drive through Germany about March and April, we came upon and near several fenced in barrack type buildings housing prisoners of war soldiers, labor camps and others. I remember this British POW running up to me with a big hug. He was so happy to see us! Reaching in his pocket, he came out with a large brass nut (about me size of a quarter + or -) with brass buttons soldered on each side, probably from his overcoat I asked me POW what it was and he showed me it was a cigarette lighter he made while a POW. With tears in his eyes he handed it to me and said, “I want you to have it” That cigarette lighter was prized by me for many years and was misplaced several years ago. I hope mat it will show up eventually.

I went into one of the labor camps occupied by laborers from countries Germany had invaded I assumed. They worked and harvested me farms and also did factory work. All of them we saw were very happy to see us. The first thing mat they asked for was cigarettes. We were able to give mem some. One of them wanted us to see me barracks or someone in there. We couldn’t understand what he was saying and he motioned for us to follow him. A couple of us followed behind him and went in this long barrack. Inside were two rows of double bunks with some of them occupied. The smell was like nothing I ever encountered. By mis time we bade mem good-bye but couldn’t get out before receiving many hugs.

Our column was stopped along the road in one of me small towns. Off to my side of the road was a mound of dirt and a small homemade cross marking a grave. Walking along me road going in the opposite direction from us were two men with sticks to assist mem in walking. They hobbled up to our vehicles, pointing to their mourns, indicating they wanted food. Both men were nothing but skin and bones. They were given food and the look on their faces said it all as they walked away in their striped clothes. It seems like many of me fenced in barrack type camps were located in East Germany. When you would see these men in striped clothes, it would mean that they were out of one of the camps. Usually the guards in these camps would leave just ahead of the advancing allies. Some of the camps were probably more humane than others. But, the one with that human waste smell in close quarters will stay in my memory. I was told about one and saw the pictures of skin and bones with heads attached and stacked like cords of wood, hardly recognized as humans, waiting to be tossed in a furnace had to be the worst. At the end on VE day, 8 May 1945, the 179^th FA Bn was near Zechovice, Czechoslovakia (7-10 May). There was dancing in me streets by the Czechs and we were all very happy.

We moved back to Germany as military government forces (10 May – 1 June, 1945). We ended up in Bogen, Germany located on the Danube River, 1 June 1945. We set-up road blocks on all roads coming from die east, and we detained German soldiers who were fleeing the Russians. After searching them, they were moved to me fenced in compound with barracks located near Bogen. “B” Battery was housed in a former two story court house in Bogen. After a couple of weeks the Germans stopped coming and me compound was full. My buddy, Joe, and I were picked along with others to pull guard duty in me convoy transporting me German prisoners to a destination unknown. One morning before daylight, a large number trucks, jeeps and men assembled at me prisoner compound to start loading prisoners. The German prisoners must have sensed where they were going. At the start of the loading, one of the prisoners dashed around to the dark side of the truck and disappeared in the darkness and couldn’t be found. The convoy was loaded without any other mishaps. Jeeps with two men were scattered throughout me convoy. Dawn was breaking as we headed toward Austria. The convoy was going a pretty good speed when one of me prisoners jumped off the truck. The convoy couldn’t stop. Our jeep was near the end of the convoy. Every few hours the convoy would stop for periods of time. I assume for directions and nature stops. On one of me stops, we were in me mountains on a narrow road with a cabin close by. Someone came out and one of the prisoners asked if they had water.

They answered, “Yes”. After consultation, six were allowed to go inside me cabin; we could see the front and back with no problem. After a little while, March order was passed through the column to be ready for movement in a few minutes. We called to me prisoners that we were ready to go. They came out but I counted only five getting in the truck. I called to my buddy, Joe, who was close by the cabin. He went inside and lifted a spread on the bed that was hanging to the floor and called to come out. The prisoner came right out and climbed into the truck. In a few minutes the convoy started moving out.

We traveled a few more hours and came to a fairly big town. I think we were still in Austria near Czechoslovakia border and in the Russian zone. The convoy pulled over and stopped while still in the town. While stopped several civilians were talking to the German prisoners on the truck. They left in a short time and men an elderly couple appeared. The lady was crying as she held one of the prisoner’s hands. They stayed a long time holding hands and crying. I mink h was one of me prisoner’s parents. After being in this location close to an hour, the convoy moved out Traveling several miles (I believe we were led by Russians) and we came to a barbed wire fenced in compound. The Russians were taking charge of the prisoners as we unloaded them. Several of the prisoners tossed men-watches to the GI’s standing by the vehicles. I guess they preferred me Americans over the Russians. After all of the prisoners were unloaded, we followed me Russian vehicles a short distance to me buildings (I believe it was a Catholic convent) By this time it was night Armed Russian soldiers appeared along with nuns with rings of keys (I mink it was two nuns.) In my memory I picture a two story building with a long wide hall and rooms on each side. We probably had about 30 men including guards and drivers. There was a sort of a line following behind the Russians and the nuns. The rooms appeared to be locked. You could hear frightened children crying. There were women and children who had probably taken refuge at the convent If the rooms were empty two men would drop off and the line would be shortened. If me room was occupied, me Russian soldier would motion them to leave. If the door was difficult to open, he would point his gun at the lock and make the nun that much more nervous, indicating that he would open it with the gun. Finally, our turn came. Our room was occupied by a mother and several children, who had started crying when the soldier motioned for them to get out In a few minutes the mother and children came out carrying their few belongings. The Russian soldier motioned for Joe and me to go in. The soldier and the nun continued down the hall with the GI’s that were left. Joe and I were standing in the doorway looking at that mother in the hall trying to comfort those crying children. Joe looking at me and said, “Mac, we can’t do this.” I was thinking the same thing before he said a word. We walked over to that mother and children and motioned for them to go back in the room. The look on their faces was truly mat of deep appreciation. The mother and children returned to their room and the crying had just about stopped as they closed me door. Later on I heard a shot and have always wondered if mat was a room the nuns couldn’t get unlocked. We spread our sleeping bags out in the hall and went to bed with our shoes off and our clothes on.

After eating our K-rations breakfast, we returned to Bogen, Germany and continued our Army of Occupation. After a few months, we received orders to travel to Marseille, France, to board the ship to the Pacific. While waiting for the trip to Marseille, the war in me Pacific ended. Our orders were not changed, so we still went to Marseille to await our turn for travel to the states. After arriving in Marseille, Joe and I had duty at the Officers Club which was okay. After a month or two, I was sent to the Rivera on the Mediterranean at Nice, France. I had duty at me Motor Pool driving a jeep to check service stations gas consumption. I had a private room with meal service in a large hotel which was great After a couple of months, I received a call from the Battery and went by train back to Marseille. We boarded the Liberty ship back to the states. We landed at Newport News, VA after nineteen days at sea. Then we headed to Fort Bragg for discharge.

At wars end, the 179^th Field Artillery Battalion final report showed the following:

•  48,996 rounds of 155 mm Howitzer projectiles were used against the enemy

• 2,350 tons weight of this ammunition

•  266 days of continuous combat

•  Over 1,000 prisoners captured For its World War II service, the 179^th Field Artillery was awarded combat participation credit for five campaigns: Normandy, Northern France, Rhineland. Ardennes-Alsace, and Central Europe. It was also awarded the French Croix de Guerre with Palm for action at the Moselle River.

The Bulge, No Need to Dream of a White Christmas
by Robert Cragg, 26^th ID, 104^th IR, 2^nd Bn, HQ

Lieutenant Jim Bailey was a terrific officer; a good leader, brave, cautious, considerate, knew his business and above all was well thought of by his superiors and subordinates. Yes, he was adept at politics and well aware that risk to life and limb was inversely proportional to the distance one was from the front lines. The success of our patrol group under Bailey’s leadership did not go unrecognized throughout the Regiment as well as the Division. It is not surprising then, in retrospect, to understand how, in the several days we were in Metz, Jim had talked the Colonel into including a Special Patrol Section in the 104^th Regimental Headquarters Company. And just who formed the group ? Bailey as leader; Jack Bombard, Tech Sgt (Bailey’s former Platoon Sergeant from “G” Company); Phil Lounsberry; the “Chief, Ed Limes and myself The others from our original group remained with 2^nd Battalion with Sgt. Bob Snyder as leader.

The change for us was that, when not on patrol, we were a bit further from the front lines. However; our patrol objectives became somewhat more difficult since we were now responsible to a higher echelon of command who were greatly more critical about obtaining results.

Luxembourg was well into winter when we arrived – it was cold, the ground was snow covered and it continued snowing off and on until we left in late January. Our quick change in orders didnt allow time to outfit the troops in winter clothing – many were without overcoats and had only medium weight or fatigue jackets and none of us had decent foot wear such a “snow-pacs”, although a few did scrounge galoshes. I was lucky because I had in some way obtained a set of tanker’s coveralls and jacket. These were ideal as they were heavy cotton twill lined with a wool blanket – warm, weather resistant and permitted maximum flexibility and comfort. Within a day or so after engaging the Germans we were issued white camouflage suits – a mixed blessing; when in snow – great; but with dark woods as a background, you stood out like a sore thumb. On patrol we rarely wore them.

The Kraut offensive was six days old and the confusion of their whereabouts was great – our Intelligence did not know just where they were. Accordingly, our orders were direct – Go north, through the snow storm until you bump into them. We had been sent forward of the column of Battalions, the 2^nd leading, and observed a column of Germans proceeding south. After we reported to Regimental Headquarters the 2^nd Battalion engaged the Germans as they came face to face going opposite directions on the same road. Combat again; fighting in Lorraine was tough but the Bulge was rougher and tougher. It seemed everything was against us: the weather – snow and bitter cold; the terrain -rugged hills and dense woods; the enemy – fanatic troops, SS, Parachute and Panzer Divisions who were feverishly fighting in a tremendous effort to split the Allied Forces in two and drive a wedge completely through Belgium to Antwerp. The further north we advanced the stiffer the resistance became.

Christmas Eve, 1944, found us in Grosbous, Luxembourg, a few miles north of where we had first engaged the enemy. The line companies were several hundred yards forward attempting to drive the Germans from other villages, Dellen and Eschdorf. Our section and a several others were in a house still occupied by the owners – a family of four; two parents and their daughters in their early teens. In one of the “Care Packages” I received from home had been a doll or some other small gift to ” – give to a little French girl”. I believe some others had a trinket or so which we all gave to the Luxembourg lassies together with “Ho-Ho’s and Bon Noels” all around. Phil and I attended a Christmas Eve Service conducted by the Regimental Chaplain in a barn complete with cows, a couple of sheep and the aromas attendant to such a location. The hood of the Chaplain’s Jeep served as the altar as we sang a few carols with the strained chords of a portable organ as accompaniment, the Chaplain delivered a short message (which I don’t recall), no collection was taken and the service was hastily disbanded because some invasive artillery was landing too close for comfort. The barrage ceased shortly after returning to our billet and I was writing letters when Bailey called us all together. I was shocked when he informed us that someone had attempted raping one of the little girls. Not an adult but barely a teenager. Crap what next! Fortunately, this little girt suffered no apparent physical damage; emotional, who knows.

One by one we were taken face to face with the girt for identification of the culprit. Of course we were nervous, for who could predict how accurately an emotionally upset little girt could identify a stranger’s face that she had seen only in a darkened room. However, she identified the same individual repeatedly. What a sad way to celebrate Christmas. The end of the story – the culprit was subsequently court-martialed and sentenced (I believe to execution). Amongst others I testified at the proceedings held in Grosbous in January, 1945. Dellen, Luxembourg was a picture perfect Christmas Day, 1944 – snow covered the ground under a magnificent, cloudless blue sky. Bailey had come across a camera and film so we had a photo-op. Also, one of the residents, who had elected to remain during the battle, shared some of her freshly baked cookies with us. Really nice, as I’m certain the ingredients were difficult to come by. The clear skies made it possible for our air force to actively return to the skies – and that they did ! We had ring side seats as they pounded the enemy positions with devastating strafing and bombing runs. This. to us, was like manna from heaven – too bad the pilots couldn’t hear our cheers.

At this time we were on the right flank of the 4^th Armored Division as they were heading toward relief of the troops surrounded in Bastogne. On December 26 the 2^nd Battalion forced a crossing of the Sure River at Esch-Sur-la-Sure and continued north, leaving the Division’s entire right flank badly exposed since the 80^th Division, on our right, was unsuccessful in their attempts to establish a bridgehead across the Sure. Of particular concern was a tunnel through the mountain east of Esch-Sur. On the night of December 27 Bailey was ordered to send a patrol to reconnoiter the road from Esch-Sur to the intersection of the north/south road just beyond the tunnel. We were badly informed about the lagging 80^th Division and the fact they were still south of the river. Thinking this patrol would be a piece of cake, since we had been instructed to avoid fire fights, just Bailey, Phil and I journeyed forth.

The two lane road clung to mountain on one side and dropped off to the river on the other. Bailey was to bring up the rear while Phil was on the river side and I was on the inside of the road. Our plan was to continue until we met the enemy; if and when we did it was every one for himself to return to headquarters with the information. We truly thought any contact we made would be with troops of the 80^th Division.Since the bridge leading out of Esch-Sur was demolished we had to scramble across the river as best we could to pick up the road on the far side. Going east we spotted a number of land mines spread around but came across no troops; we had some concern about the tunnel as it would be ideal for concealing Kraut troops and tanks but so far so good. Our good luck petered out just as we approached the tunnel when a loud “Halten zee !!” was shouted. Hearing no password in reply the Germans opened up with an MG-42 machine gun. As planned Bailey, bringing up the rear, and Phil, on the river side of the road, took off; me -1 did my best to merge into the mountain side. An MG-42 has a rate of fire of about 2000 rounds a minute; with a tracer every fifth round each burst looked like a thin beam of white tight going down the road. It seemed I was pretty well trapped as the escape route was some distance away across the line of fire and across the road.

Although I was happy for contributing to the Red Cross since it appeared highly likely I might shortly be in a position to receive some of their POW packages; my immediate thoughts were how to get out of this predicament. One thing the Chief had taught us was patience – keep quiet and dont do anything rash. Sure enough, shortly the curiosity of the Germans got the better of them; the firing stopped and one or two came out to investigate. It was my opportunity -1 jumped up, dashed across the road firing my “grease gun” toward the tunnel mouth, went over the bank and down toward the river. In the mad scramble I lost my helmet, grease gun, one boot and a couple grenades – fortunately the Germans were probably just as surprised as I since they gave no chase. Later I caught up with Bailey and Phil in Esch-Surjust as they were reporting to the CO and suggesting that I probably wouldn’t make it back. The next day I scavenged some replacement equipment; but, the Chief, whose grease gun I’d borrowed, was a bit upset because I couldn’t come up with another. We returned that day to take and hold the tunnel until reinforcements arrived.

Early in January, 1945, Bailey got great news that he was one of the first to be given a 30 day rotational leave and would be transported to continental USA, courtesy of the Army, for some welcome R & R. When he left Sgt. Jack Bombard assumed leadership of our group. As we got closer to Wiltz, a good sized city for Luxembourg, German resistance stiffened, the fighting was fierce and advances very limited. By this time it was evident the German effort to break through to capture their initial objective, Liege, would not be accomplished. Therefore, they were forced into the position of salvaging what they could while protecting their flanks so that some order could be maintained in their withdrawal. Wiltz, which was our primary objective, a hub for several important highways was situated atop a mountain and commanded all the surrounding terrain. It was mandatory for the Germans to defend it at all costs – which they stubbornly did. Such a situation dictated constant patrolling, seeking out locations and disposition of enemy forces; maintaining contact with other outfits on our flanks and guarding against any surprises initiated by the Germans. Conditions were miserable -cold, snowy, thick woods and difficult terrain; the Germans had their backs against the wall and were determined in their fighting to prevent us from getting a strangle hold on the neck of the Bulge.

They were aggressively patrolling. On more than one occasion we encountered their patrols, at times almost bumping into one another. Any firefights were usually short and in all we only had one fatality, a replacement with us just a couple of days, whose name I don’t recall. Our missions on these nightly patrols were pretty much the same each time we went out – probe around trying to find weak points in the German lines, try to pick up a prisoner, locate their heavily defended positions, etc. This latter was usually easy, however nerve racking, since the Germans were quick to use flares at the first sign of any activity to their front. As soon as they heard any noises or thought they saw any movement, up went the flares followed by raking small arms and machine gun fire together with supporting mortar shells if necessary. It could get a bit testy.

One night after being driven back by harassing fire we were returning to our lines, following a trail through the woods as a couple of men in camouflage suits approached. It was nutty, we literally bumped into them – not knowing if they were friend or foe. One of our guys challenged them for the password. Their reaction was to scramble and shout a few commands in German – we hit the dirt and several shots were fired. Now it was a game of hide and seek – they wanted to return with a prisoner, just as we did, but no one wanted to take their turn in the barrel. In the dark of the woods our patrol was separated and shortly I lost track of the German I was following and found my way back to the command post. The only other who had not yet returned was Jack Bombard. Some time later he straggled in, a bit worse for the wear; a couple from the German patrol had gotten on his tail and had a merry chase through the woods before he ultimately gave them the slip. An incomplete mission – the only comforting thought was that the Germans were no more successful than we in picking up a prisoner.

Due to the stalemate at Wiltz the Regimental CP remained in Esch-Sur over a week. This was terrific when we weren’t on patrol as we were billeted indoors. Esch-Sur was nestled among the mountains which folded together in such a manner as to cause one to wonder how to get into or out of the town. Along the river the mountainside was nearly vertical for several hundred feet. We were in a house adjacent to the river bank and took comfort in the belief the mountainside would shield us from any artillery or mortar fire. Sporadic artillery fire did rain on other sections of the town but none came close to our billet. Thus we felt quite comfortable in undressing down to our long Johns when slipping into our sleeping bags – the first we’d had such a luxury since mid-December in Metz.

This worked well for a couple of nights and then our house took a hit by a white phosphorus shell into the window of our room. Set the room on fire, which spread to a jeep parked by the front door, and urged us to scramble with whatever few possessions we could quickly gather up, which was precious little. I got out with only what I was wearing. Lost were my weapons, clothes, shoes, helmet, personal items and maps that I had been collecting of where we had been; gone but not forgotten. Can you imagine the lot of us running down the street in our bvd’s in the middle of the night when the temperature was well below freezing, dodging incoming artillery and trying to find another shelter ? You’ve got the picture. It took a couple of days but the supply sergeant rounded everything up, less a 0.45 automatic for me.

Jack Bombard was a good sergeant but he didn’t have the Regimental S-2 Officer’s ear as Bailey did. After the middle of January we had fewer regimental patrols and were shortly transferred back to our original battalion headquarters companies. This was a rude awakening because 2^nd Battalion Headquarters was located in Budershied, a small town further forward. The town was exposed and under direct observation by the Germans resulting in constant artillery fire; in fact, it was such a hot spot it became known as “88 Junction”. Several days after we arrived Wiltz was taken and once again we advanced as the Bulge broke down and the Germans retreated toward their homeland. By the end of January we were out of it and about to be trucked south to positions along the Saar River in Saariautem.

The six weeks we spent in the Bulge were the most difficult of our time in combat. The weather was against us – snow was all over, the temperatures extremely cold – water would freeze in your canteen and the artillery constant, heavy and very accurate. Our clothing was not suitable for such conditions – overcoats were so bulky body movement was dangerously impaired; it was difficult, almost impossible to manipulate a rifle with one on; gloves were neither warm nor weatherproof; shoes froze stiff and galoshes were impossible to wear. True to Army efficiency, we finally got sno-pacs to replace our combat boots the day before we were sent south – it then took some time to get combat boots back since our new zone was too warm for sno-pacs. On the plus side many things were done well by the Army. In our Division, mail and packages were delivered almost daily, cigarettes were plentiful, we normally had sufficient rations (not hot meals but food at least) and newspapers – “Stars and Stripes”, “YD Grapevine” and “Yank” magazine were delivered regularly.

After four months in combat I became a changed person, no doubt we all did. It’s curious what over sixty combat patrols will do for one. Combat is a frightening business, indeed, and at times terrifying. Yes, I had confronted death often, face to face; yet I was one of the lucky ones because I walked out of the valley. I was scared – all of us were; it would be difficult to believe anyone who claimed not to be. It wasn’t the possibility of instant death that was most frightening, but of being severely wounded – losing limbs, receiving disabling head and abdominal wounds, becoming a basket case, spending hours in severe pain as the battle continued, ending up a burden to society – that was very scary. Most always the front put on to joke about our situation, make light of the last patrol or anticipation of the next one, was just that; a front to masquerade the fact we were scared. After all, most would do anything to avoid looking bad in the eyes of his buddies and fellow infantrymen.

Witnessing death; injuring, maiming and mutilating human and animal bodies was an accepted occurrence and practice. Participating in the destruction of persons and properties became a way of life -it was destroy to avoid being destroyed. Many perspectives, attitudes and actions changed. Early on, patrols were undertaken with a very cavalier, “hell-bent-for-leather” acceptance; “Let’s move it, by George, we’re going to do this thing and the devil take the hindmost”. Now we approached our missions with more thought and caution, (I hesitate to suggest more maturity. Is there a mature way to wrack havoc and death upon your foes?), more planning as to what each was to do if things went right or wrong and more concern for others and a better understanding as to how other patrol members would react. It’s not certain that we performed our jobs any better since we had lost some of our prior elan and were less flamboyant in completing our missions. However, it is certain that none of us backed away from any of our responsibilities.

And, finally, I came to an understanding just how fragile life is and that death does not respect age, sex, race, social status, education or any other security blanket to which we might cling. No, I did not become a “foxhole” Christian; after all, I had been brought up in a family that believed in God and Jesus Christ and stressed the need for including Christian principles and teachings in all areas of our lives – they also believed regular church attendance was absolutely necessary. My faith was strengthened during these months and I truly believed we were fighting for a just cause. Yes, I had changed – hopefully for the better.

My Life in the 55^th Armored Infantry Battalion
by Homer Olson, Company B

On December 7, 1941, came the bombing of Pearl Harbor by the Japanese. This changed everything for the whole world and us. Our government rationed many things to the civilians; every thing went to the military.

In March 1942, I went to work for the northern oil pumping wells with Ralph Bennett. That was a good job and we got along well together. Many of my friends were volunteering and being drafted into the military. I don’t like water, so I didn’t want the Navy. Because of my bad ears, I couldn’t get into the Air Force. So I waited for the draft. I turned twenty years on September 15,1942.1 was put in class 1 -A and passed my physical in Erie, Pennsylvania on November 4.1 left on the train November 18, from Ridgeway, Pennsylvania because we lived in Elkco. That day, I kissed my mother and hugged my dad for the first time in my adult life. It was a sad day for them and for all of us. Our induction center was at New Cumberland, Pennsylvania. We were there for three days getting our uniforms, shots, and etc. We were put on a train and four days later we were in Camp Polk, Louisiana. It was a big camp, with two armored divisions there. I was assigned to Company B. 55th Armored Infantry Battalion that I stayed in for the next three years. (They broke us up in August 1945 down in Austria).

We took four months of basic training, there at Camp Polk, and then went on the Louisiana maneuvers for two months. It was pretty rough on most of us – we were busy all the time. We learned to shoot and qualify with the M-l rifle, all of the machine guns, pistol, mortar, hand-grenade and etc. We did a lot of close order drill and many road marches. The longest was a 30-mile hike, with light packs. I didn’t like the bayonet drill and was glad that I never had to use one.

The weather was wet and chilly there and 1 caught a cold and high fever. They put me in the hospital for a few days. That is where I spent Christmas of 1942. We learned a lot in those first few months. A big thing was learning to live together in close quarters. Most guys were great, but there are always a few “bastards.” Some got homesick. I never did, but did get lonesome some times.

About once a month, everyone got kitchen, police, latrine duty and a twenty-four hour guard duty. This is where I learned to clean toilets. On one wall there were three long urinals. Another wall was the sinks and mirrors and on another wall were ten commodes. The showers were back in farther. That place was a madhouse. Every morning, after breakfast, you had no privacy and you couldn’t be bashful. Each company had their own bugler and all the calls were with a bugle. Reveilles, chow call for three meals, and work calls at 8:00 AM and 1:00 PM. Retreat at 5:30 PM and lights out at 9:30 PM with Taps at 11:00 PM. We got up at 5:45 each morning and breakfast was at 7:00. In that hour and fifteen minutes you got dressed, stood reveille, made your bed, mopped the floor around your bunk, made sure your clothes were okay and shoes shined, and fifteen minutes of calisthenics. It sure was a different life style, but it went pretty well if you made up your mind to it. I got a ten-day leave and came home in April after the Basic Training was over.

Pay day was the first day of the month. Fifty dollars in cash was what you got paid. After deductions of insurance, bonds, and laundry, $35.25 was left. Sometimes they would pull a “short-arm” inspection on pay day. This was to check for venereal diseases. The uniform for that hour was shoes and raincoats. A doctor would be sitting on a chair in our day room. We lined up outside and when you got in to see him you opened you raincoat and squeezed you penis. If there was any fluid, you went on sick call and didn’t get paid.

In May and June we were on maneuvers in Louisiana and West Texas. Lots of mosquitoes, snakes and dust. When this was over, we moved to Camp Barkeley, Texas near Abilene. I was assigned to a half track there and became a driver. I liked this better, as I always liked to drive anything. That fall, I was sent to Fort Knox, Kentucky to mechanic school for three months. Gene Foster of B Company 55th AIB was also there and we got to know a couple of girls in Louisville. We would see them on weekends, sometimes.

While we were in Fort Knox, the 11th Armored Division moved to the Mojave Desert near Needles, California for desert maneuvers. When we were done with school, I got my papers, train ticket, and also a five-day “delay in route”, so I went home for three days. On Christmas Day of 1943,1 was on the train headed for Needles. We finished maneuvers in February and went to Camp Cooke, California near Santa Maria. We went to Los Angeles and Santa Barbara some weekends. Usually, we went to Santa Maria. Many of my friends were Italians and we would go to Santa Maria for Italian food on Saturday night and then to the Palamino Bar. If we didn’t catch the bus back to Camp, we would sleep in the USO Club on a pool table or a chair.

Early in September, we were put on a troop train headed for Camp Kilmer, New Jersey and then overseas. That was a nice train ride. It was a long train with two steam engines on front and five steam engines pushing in the rear. We went through thirty-seven tunnels, going from California to Denver. There were two kitchen cars in the middle of the train. The front one served the front half of the train and the back car, the back half. We ate well, two times a day. They stopped once a day and we got off to walked and exercise. It took six days and five nights to get to Camp Kilmer, New Jersey. After a few days passed, we went by train to New York and on to a ship, the USS Hermitage. It was an experience, having your name called and walking up the long “gang plank” and knowing that you were leaving your homeland. The duffel bag that we carried was quite heavy. They put us on a deck down below the water line. It was crowded. The bunks were five high. The lights were not bright enough so that we could read a little and play poker and shoot crap. These were on the floor wherever we could find a place to put a blanket down. There were poker games, going on some place, twenty-four hours a day.

There were five thousand of us on this ship and they told us there were sixty ships in the convoy. Each ship was a mile apart so we couldn’t see all of them when we were allowed up on the top deck. We had a Navy escort: the Destroyer Escorts. They would zigzag between the ships looking for submarines. I got a little sea sick at times, but not bad. We got fed twice daily and I could usually eat a little. We ate standing up with our trays on a bar. You had to hang on to the bar, your tray, and hit your mouth with your spoon. The ship was rolling in some direction all the time.

We were thirteen days on the ship and landed in Southampton, England around October 3rd. They put us on a train and took us to a small camp between Tisbury and Hinden, about ninety miles from London. We didn’t do much training in England, just a few hikes now and then. Over a period of time we got our equipment which consisted of tanks, trucks, jeeps, half-tracks guns, ammunition, and rations.

We were given some two-day passes. I went to Bristol once and London twice. One pass that I had to London, was the day before payday and then payday. An English pound was worth $4.09 at that time. The first night that we were there, the price for a woman, all night, was one pound. The next night (payday) the price was four pounds. We didn’t bother the women that night.

Early in December, we crossed the English Channel. The drivers went with their vehicles, tanks, half­tracks, trucks and jeeps in a “landing ship tanks” (LST). The front of the LST opened up and we drove up into it and turned around so that you faced out. This way you could drive straight out onto the beach when they opened up. We were on this ship for twenty-four hours and landed near Cherbourg, France. We drove to fields near Rennes, France. It took three days for our division to assemble there.

That night, out in the channel, there was a submarine alert. They stopped the ship and killed the engines. We were “bobbing” around out there in that flat bottom ship. Each driver had to pull a two-hour fireguard in the tank deck with a guy on each end. My time was midnight to 2:00 am. It was hot down there and very strong gasoline fumes. I got seasick and “threw-up” a few times, until there was no more to come up and I just “gagged”. I was sure glad when 2:00 am came so I could lie down again.

After the division got all together, we started to move inland. Then an order came down to change course and go North. When we got up to Rhiems, France we heard about the German breakthrough in Belgium – making what they called the “Bulge”. We hit snow and cold weather up there. From here on things and places are vague and hazy. I know that we spent Christmas day in Belgium somewhere. It was cold.

We were in reserve for a couple of days and then they gave us a small town to take. We didn’t get it that afternoon. We had a counter attack that night and the Germans took nineteen guys from our company prisoner. I remember that one guy was taking twelve German prisoners back and one was wounded and couldn’t walk fast enough, so he shot him there on the road. I thought to myself “what the hell is going on here? This is terrible”. After awhile, you get used to these things and if you want to survive you can become pretty cruel.

The Germans had Bastogne surrounded for many days. Most of the 101st Airborne Division was in there. The 4th Armored got in there first from the south. We got in a day or two later from the northwest. That was a happy day for everyone.

We started moving again, taking small towns, clearing woods, and slowly closing the Bulge. It was cold and the snow was quite deep. There was lots of frostbite on the fingers and toes. We threw away our shoes and cut up GI blankets into strips about six inches wide and wrapped our feet and legs. We then put our feet into four buckle overshoes, which we had. I went to the Aid Station one time and they painted my toes with something. I just lost a couple of nails. At one time, I had on two pairs of long underwear, two pairs of pants, two shirts, a woolen GI sweater, and a field jacket. It is unbelievable what the human body can stand – both mental and physical. Some people are stronger than others are – so some “broke down” – it was nothing to be ashamed of. I know that prayers helped a lot.

Every letter, that I wrote home, I asked Mom and Dad to send gloves, handkerchiefs, and socks. I carried them in my seat cushion, in my halftrack, and gave most of them to my buddies. They nicknamed me “Mother Olson”. One time, I asked Mom to send us a chocolate cake with frosting and walnuts on top. She did and it came in about five weeks. The walnuts were green with mold, so we threw them away and made quick work of that cake.

I remember one town near Longchamps in Belgium. We got the hell knocked out of us going in. We cleared the town and stayed there that night. The next day was bright and sunny. We could see some dead Germans laying in the snow, up in a field, near some woods. We found a long piece of rope and went up there. There were twelve lying frozen in many positions. Sometimes the Germans would “booby- trap” their dead. We would tie the rope around a leg and drag them a ways and make sure there were no wires attached to the bodies. Then we looked for watches and pistols. I remember one that I rolled over. His face was gone from the forehead down.

One time, there were several of us “dug-in” along a dirt road, in some woods with lots of pine trees. A jeep came down the road and stopped. It was a Lutheran chaplain from another unit. He asked if we wanted a prayer and communion. Of course we did. We were Catholics, Jews and etc. But it made no difference. We got on our knees in the snow with our helmets on, and weapons slung on our shoulders. He had some bread and bottles of wine and poured the wine in our canteen cup. A few shells landed fairly close but no one ran to their holes. He never stopped pouring the wine. We all felt better after he left.

One time they pulled us back in reserve for a few days. We got some replacements, supplies and hot food from our kitchen. We were “dug in” (two man foxholes). Anderson and I usually dug in together (he was a swell guy). He drove second track and I drove first track. We were getting a lot of artillery and mortar fire. Also, the Germans had a weapon that fired a shell like a mortar or a small bomb. We called them “screaming mimis”. They mostly came at night and scared hell out of you. We were cold, wet and lying in our hole one night when things were coming in pretty heavy. I started to shake and shiver and just couldn’t stop. I said, “Andy, I can’t stop this shaking.” and started to cry. It was all getting to me – especially the cold. Andy held me – lit me a cigarette and we talked. After a while I calmed down. Anderson was a great guy. As were all of our guys,. We loved and depended on each other you couldn’t make it alone,

One night, at this same place, Andy and I were leaning against my halftrack. We could hear a mortar shell coming (they came slow). We didn’t have time to get in our hole, so we dove under the track. The shell landed four or five feet away in the snow and mud. It didn’t explode; it was a “dud”. The book wasn’t open on our page that night. We survived. One afternoon, later on, we had taken this small town and we were getting some machine gun fire from some woods. Our company went to clear the woods and had to stay there all night. They called on the radio to bring up some rations and ammunition. They said the field might be mined. Andy and I gathered up supplies and put half in his track and half in mine. We thought that one of us should get through. We ran side by side and both got through. We tried to follow our same tracks back and about halfway back, Andy hit a land mine with the left track and caught fire. I stopped, he jumped out and ran to me and we made it back.

Somewhere along about this time they had brought up a portable shower unit. They had big tents and many tank trucks with water and it was hot. We went back and got showers and new clothes. Boy, they felt good. We hadn’t taken a shower since we left England two months earlier. That is the only good thing about fighting a war in the wintertime. You didn’t stink much and the dead bodies didn’t stink either because they froze quickly.

We closed the “Bulge” late in January and hit the Siegfried Line in February. The snow was melting and there was lots of mud. I developed a fear and hatred for the snow and cold that winter and it will stay with me forever. After the Siegfried Line, we started the “spearheads” to the Rhine river. Our objective was the city of Andemach, a city north ofCoblenz. We cleared the city with help from another unit.

They then pulled us back a few miles to a small town. We were there five days, while the engineers built a “bailey bridge” across the Rhine. Owens found a German motorcycle there. Each morning, he and I would ride it to Andemach and get wine that we had found in a cellar. We gave wine to anyone who wanted some and it tasted good. The house that our squad took over, to sleep in, had a radio and we heard some music for the first time in nearly three months. (American music from Paris)

They built the bridge across the Rhine under a smoke screen and we crossed it in a smoke screen. An experience that I’ll never forget. We started the “spearheads” again and one time we were cut off for three days. They dropped us supplies from the air. Gasoline was the big item and we go that in thousands an thousands of five-gallon cans. I saw General Patton twice. Once in the “Bulge” and once on a “spearhead”.

We had the Germans on the run now. They were running out of gasoline and food, so they were using a lot of horses to move their guns and supplies in wagons. They were being strafed by aircraft and shelled from our artillery and the roads jammed with dead horses, humans and everything. At times, we could not go around them and had to run over the bodies. On these “spearheads,” we came to and released prisoners from POW (prisoner of war) camps and slave labor camps. These were sorry sights. They were so happy to see us. We knew that the end of the war was getting near, and all of us were praying that we could make it now that we had come this far.

We were in the mountains before we dropped down into Linz, Austria, on the Danube River. A small town, Wegshied, we came to in the afternoon. Lots of SS there and putting up a stiff resistance. We got some houses burning so we could see better, when it got dark, we used our cigarette lighters on curtains and etc. S/Sgt. Elwood G. Cashman, my squad leader, got it here. We felt so bad with the end so near. We finished clearing the town. The next day they sent my platoon (five half-tracks), out on a mounted patrol, down a dirt road for a few miles. We hit no resistance and found nothing. While we were gone, they shelled the town with artillery. Another guy had pulled his half-track under a tree where I had been. He got a direct hit and the halftrack was half-gone. He was lying on the ground dead. I thought to my self “God still has plans for me. That could have been me.”

The war ended for us at Linz, Austria, on the Danube river. It was a beautiful city. In spite of the pain and suffering of a war there is a good side. I had many fine friends while in the military and we had many laughs and good times. This friendship has lasted over the years. We can feel it at our reunions.I must say, that we had fine officers as our leaders. Three of them were killed. Most were wounded. Captain George Reimer, our Company Commander, was and is a good man. I think he was wounded four times.

There was a concentration camp near Linz, called Mauthausen. That was a terrible sight and smelled too. Dead bodies all over and the rest were half-dead. They must have killed and burned thousands of people there. We sat in a field for several days after the armistice was signed on May 8,1945. We started “occupation duty” in a small town, Reid, Austria.

I got a three-day pass to Paris late in may or early June. We went to Munich, Germany by truck and got on the train there. The train was full of GI’s going to Paris or Luxemburg. When we got to Paris, they had a place where they gave each one, with a pass, one carton of cigarettes, soap, razor, toothbrush, toothpaste and a comb. Most of us had our own, so we sold those things to French civilians for a good price. We also had German pistols to sell. I had five. The Frenchmen took us to a cafe where we went back in a comer and piled our pistols on a table and ordered a drink. They were looking over the pistols and the fellow across the table from me (one of us) shot himself in the left hand: They called the military police (MP’s) to take him to the hospital. We gathered up our pistols and got the hell out of there fast. It was illegal to sell these pistols. We went to a Red Cross hotel, got our room, and we never heard anything about it. I had a little 25-caliber automatic, in a shoulder holster, which I wore under my shirt. We weren’t supposed to have concealed weapons, but we weren’t too well liked in Germany. So many of us carried something.

The three of us went to a club, that night. Each of us bought a bottle of cognac and a bottle of champagne at $4.00 a bottle. One of the sergeants got pretty drunk and went with a woman for the night. Baldwin and I went back to our hotel room. We saw the sergeant at noon the next day. He was sick and broke. She had “rolled” him for all his money. We each gave him some money. We saw many of the sights in Paris and had a good time there. One afternoon, I was walking by myself, there was a park and it had benches along the side walk. Two women, professionals, were sitting on a bench. We talked a little and “pidgin English” and I went with the older one to her apartment. We went through a door, into a hallway, and got halfway up the stairs when the front door opened and a man came in. I thought that it might be a “set-up”. I unbuttoned my shirt and took out my little pistol. When she saw it, she got excited and finally got through to me that he lived downstairs. I wouldn’t have shot anyone, but I would have scared someone. Everything turned out okay. She was good and knew her business.

When I got back to my company, in Austria, they were loading up the tanks and half-tracks onto freight cars and shipping them back to France. The 21/2 ton trucks they drove back in convoys. I got in on this and there were two drivers to a truck with an officer in charge of each twenty-five trucks. The convoy stretched out for miles. Weaver and I were together and we were three days getting to a racetrack outside of Paris. We got into Paris again that night and caught the train back in the morning. When we rode trains over there, we rode in 40 & 8 (40 men or 8 mules) boxcars. There were no passenger cars this time. We each carried our own bedrolls and rations.

We were then sent to occupy Friestadt, Austria. There was a “displaced persons” (DP’s) camp there. (people from other countries that worked for the Germans.) They were being sent back to their own countries. Wally Laudert and I got in on one trip that was hauling DP’s to Yugoslavia. There were many trucks and each had two drivers. We went over the Alps into Northern Italy and then into Yugoslavia. Several times a day, we stopped the trucks for “piss call”. This was quite a sight. We unloaded the DP’s in a field, near a town, there Marshal Tito’s troops set up machine guns around the DP’s. We stayed there in our trucks that night and were sure glad to leave the next morning. We made this trip early in July and on July 4th we received snow. The first and only time, that I have gotten into a snowstorm in July.

We now were sent to occupy Ebbenzee, Austria. There was a big POW camp there and we had ninety thousand German prisoners to guard. They had “work details” outside of the Camp each day and my job, on most days, was to go to the main gate and draw and sign for six prisoners. They would go to the “wood yard” and cut firewood all day. They cooked on wood stoves in the camp. I carried a sub­machine gun and they didn’t offer to run away. They were eating pretty well there. In august 1945, they broke up the 11th Armored Division and we were sent in all different directions to other units. We had been together for three years. Some others and I were sent to Czechoslovakia to a town near Pilsen to the 8th Armored Division where I was there a couple of weeks and then went to

Germany to the 83rd Infantry Division. I was put in a service company of the 329th Infantry Battalion. I was driving a truck again. John Singletary, who was “ration breakdown man”, and I would drive to Deggendorfto the railroad each morning. We picked up the rations (food) for the 4th Infantry Company and deliver them to four different towns, that they were occupying. This was good duty. John and I had our room up over the kitchen. The cooks slept there too. So we always had food like oranges, apples, bread and peanut butter in our rooms. Some women would come each night and if they stayed too late, they would stay all night. Civilians had to be off the streets from 11:00 pm till 6:00 in the morning. This is where a woman slept in my bed, one night, when she stayed too late. I never touched her. She looked to rough for me. When I woke up, in the morning, she was gone. I have told this a few times and people don’t believe it. But it is the truth.

We were being sent home on the point system. So many points for service in the States, months overseas, for each Battle Star (I have three), and etc. Anyway, I had sixty points. The 358th Engineer Battalion was being filled with sixty pointers for going home. So they sent others and me to the 358th in some town in Germany. We did nothing there.

One afternoon, an old man was leading an old skinny horse up the street, followed by some old women, with pails and pans. They went to the town square and killed the horse. They cut it up and divided the meat. I didn’t go up to see this – it wouldn’t be a pretty sight. I am fortunate and thankful that I have never been that hungry. In this land of plenty, most people will say that they wouldn’t do this, or they wouldn’t do that. But that is “bullshit.” This county would be the worst, because we are used to having too much. They would get on their knees or kill for a piece of bread. On the day after Thanksgiving, we started our journey home. We were taken to the “tent city” camps, near Rheims, France. These camps were named after cities in the U.S.A. There were units coming in and going out every day. I went into Rheims a few times. Rheims was pretty well cleaned up by this time. The Rheims cathedral is a beautiful church and wasn’t damaged much. We went in and sat down for a few minutes. We were here a couple of weeks and then were moved to a “tent city” camp near Le Havre, France. This was on the coast. We could look down and see the city and the ocean. These “tent cities” were called “cigarette camps” named after cigarette brands. I’m not sure, but ours was “Lucky Strike” or “Pall Mall”. I still had a couple of extra pistols and sold them here. We were allowed to take one home and they were going to pull a “shake down search” on the ship.

All around these camps were signs that said, “one drip and you miss the ship. So if you got the “clap”, you stayed there for treatment. We had a “short arm” inspection the day before we boarded ship. One day they told us that our ship was in and we would be loading up in a few days. On the afternoon of Christinas Eve, 1945 we went down and boarded ship. No trouble walking up the “gang plank”, this time. The duffel bag was lighter and we were going home. We left that evening and went up into the North Sea and around the north of Scotland. They announced over the speakers that there would be a turkey dinner the next day for Christmas. We hit a winter storm that night and all Christmas Day. So many got seasick and couldn’t eat their dinner. I ate some but not much.

This ship was the SS Argentina. It was a nice ship and not too crowded. There were seven thousand of us on it. Our trip lasted seven days before we reach New York on the morning of Jan 1, 1946. Most of us were on the decks so we could see the Statue of Liberty and watch the tugboats pushing us into the pier. It was quiet and no one around because it was a holiday. Later in the day, we were taken off and put on a train to Camp Kilmer, New Jersey again. From there the train sent us to our “separation centers” in our different states. I went to New Cumberland, Pennsylvania again. There, we were “processed out.” They told me my gums and teeth were bad and if I stayed a few days they would fix my teeth. I said, “give me that honorable discharge and I will get my teeth fixed at home, myself.”

On January 5,1946,1 received my discharge, $300 mustering our pay and train ticket to Kane, Pennsylvania. This ended my short military career, three years, two months, and one day. I wouldn’t take a million dollars for the things that I learned. Things that I saw and did. I learned more about discipline, which we have to have in, our homes our work and ourselves. I rode the train all night to Kane. I got home Sunday morning, January 6.1 surprised Mom and Dad. We were happy and had a good cry.