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Southampton - For almost a half year prior to our concentrated preparation to depart for the Channel Port of Southampton, England, the officers and men of Company "A" had thoroughly enjoyed their stay in the picturesque countryside of Springhill Lodge and the English Midlands. Chipping Campden, Broadway, Snowshill, Worchester, Cheltenham, Stratford upon Avon, Oxford and London -- all communities, villages and cities we had visited -- places never to be forgotten. D-Day, June 6, 1944, was something to read about and thrill to for those who could only scan this page in history. But from the Allied air activity overhead and the thorough preparation and training of each of us we were aware that the time was near at hand. There were no passes this weekend. Late Friday afternoon, July 15, our vehicles lined the broad, green parade grounds where upon occasion we had been host to General Patton addressing Third Army officers. Six-by-six cargo trucks and personnel carriers, shop trucks, 3/4-ton weapons carriers, peeps, 70-ton prime movers, recovery monsters, fully loaded, and our armored halftrack were ready as we stood by. While we anxiously awaited the go-ahead order and "turn-them-over" cry, conversing in small intent groups, some men were engaged in throwing a baseball about; others were relaxing upon the grass, occupied with thoughts of another day. Lt. Wurst had lost his ring while "pitching a few" and what was probably our last activity upon these grounds commenced. Almost the entire company personnel now engaged in a treasure hunt, and upon hands and knees we combed the closely cropped grass in a fruitless search for his vanished ruby. The order came about dusk, and in truck convoy, under black-out, we were enroute to the marshalling area and the Continent beyond. |
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Springhill Lodge - All were in gay spirits and an atmosphere of adventure and the unknown pervaded each vehicle. The journey of about one hundred miles progressed rapidly without any untoward incident and we reached our immediate destination in the early morning of June 16. The trucks were halted along the roadside and all men were sheltered under canvas tops within the compound of the area devoted to troops about to engage on the Channel crossing. Here we bade farewell to our English pounds and shillings; the coppers or pence pieces had already been disposed of to the "kids" hanging around the trucks as we waited throughout the day. The Invasion currency and French notes were curiously accepted in exchange but how many of us gave thought and comprehended the nature of the task ahead, the years of toil, hardship and deprivation of a people whose money we now observed for the first time. What manner of men were they, what was this France where would we disembark? The answers would soon be forthcoming as we moved late in the morning, July 18, through the streets of Southampton and temporarily halted at the docks. By this time many of us had already heard, if we did not actually observe in flight the night before, the dreaded V-1 or Buzz Bomb which had been terrorizing the people and causing such great destruction to the coastal cities. Our company complement of officers at this stage of rapidly progressing events consisted of our astute and capable commander, Captain William K. Hall, Jr.; First Lt. George R. Naas, Armament Platoon; First Lt. Frederick A. Stolz, liaison officer; Second Lt. James H, Bragg, shop officer; Second Lt. Royal C. Lewis, Second Echelon, Second Lt. Charles R. Wurst, Supply, and WOJG Leon T. Patterson, Service Section. They were ably assisted by First Sgt. Woodrow W. Gatlin and Acting Mr. Sgt. Ernest D. Lambert. Various units now made their way to several LST's and smaller craft straining at their lines as if in haste to get underway. The ramps were lowered and slowly the vehicles ascended to the steel plated decks above. The rolling equipment was secured and all personnel were issued life belts or vests in preparation for our departure. |
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Channel Crossing - The day, Sunday, July 18, was remarkably clear with hardly a cloud overhead; the famed Channel Sea placid and serene as any of our lakes at home. But some men, who had suffered through the agony of seasickness aboard the Atlantic transport, downed their pills distributed at the marshalling area. Many men were on deck at the rails; gazing in admiring wonderment at the unfolding harbor panorama; ship after ship, of all types of construction and flying the flags of almost all the Allied nations. Others were atop their vehicles basking in the hot sun, while yet a few descended below to assure themselves of a berth and a night's rest in the comparative quietude which on several occasions was loudly interrupted by enemy planes overhead. But the barking fire of our antiaircraft guns from ships and shore drove the raiders off to the east. Late that night we shoved off and England, our acquaintanceships, social relations and frolicking evenings passed at the pubs, were now becoming memories. Bert Dombrowski and Russell Forinash, in the decontaminator truck, had boarded a small landing craft when no room could be made for their vehicle on an LST. They were the only company men aboard with a group of engineers when their boat began to move out to sea before all units had assembled with the escort force. She was turned back by a British Corvette and took her position with the other vessels. As they moved into midchannel she rammed one of the larger craft. No serious damage was inflicted but the men had been prepared for a plunge overboard. It wasn't until dawn of the next day that we beheld the mighty flotilla of surface craft in our wake as row upon row of vessels plowed through the sea. Additional units had assembled during the night and others had strayed from their course to come close to defensive mine fields. The friendly aircraft above and the barrage balloons floating lazily overhead, one rising from each of our vessels, accorded us a feeling of security. We were presently observing, once again, that close unity of operation and camaraderie between the naval and ground forces, both devoted in duty to the task forged in the fury of war. While proceeding in convoy a leak developed in the Diesel fuel pump of the LST transporting Service Section personnel. "No parts -- turn back?" "Hell no. Here's a soldier who can help us out!" Tech. Sgt. Jack McKee diagnosed the trouble, and his able aide, Bill Roberts, in an hour's time had produced a fitting on his lathe and replaced the defective piece for the Navy. The men were propositioned to remain on the tub but preferred to exhibit their talents on dry land -- one of the crew had already demonstrated his "affection" for us, clipping Ed Adams of 16 "bucks" for a poor substitute for a half pint of gin. Speculations were rife about our debarking point on the mainland of Europe. Would it be the famed port of Cherbourg, so recently taken by the victorious forces, or one of the historic, bleak, sandy beaches upon which the full might and fury of the Allied nations had descended Invasion Day, June 6, 1944? |
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We Land - Early in the afternoon of July 19, the tide had risen to permit debarkation on the sands of what had now become known the world over as Utah Beach, near St. Martin-de-Varreville, on the Normandy Peninsula. The Baie de La Seine was as thronged as any great commercial port; there were all categories of invasion craft as well as floating docks and ramps over which the trucks continuously moved. It was almost unbelievable to see vehicles leave the shore, mount the docks and then move out to sea to receive the cargo from the craft unable to come onto the beach. Fully loaded, they returned to shore, making their way over the dunes, across the beach to their destination far up the coast and inland. Scurrying about and equally as actively engaged were the numerous "Ducks" and amphibious wonders of our productivity. Many points along the beach were studded with rusted steel traps and obstacles the Nazis had strewn in our path and secured in the sea. Lanes leading from the disgorging craft to the shore and beyond were clearly marked off for the steady stream of traffic. Engineer units with special detector apparatus were still combing the treacherous terrain for the mines which had been thickly planted to assure a high cost in personnel and material for a successful foothold in France. We never did relish that chicken dinner the navy cooks had whipped up for us as a "Last Supper." But Joe Keeley was prepared for action at the drop of a wishbone while aboard the boat. He had taken pains to conceal his mess gear in a truck somewhere close to the ship's galley. In the haste of preparation to disembark and his regret to leave, Joe completely forgot about his utensils. A hue and cry arose from below as the trucks descended the ramp and his "tools," skilled craftsman that he was, came tumbling over the side of the LST onto the roof-top of a truck slowly moving off.  LST's landing on Utah Beach As the vehicles moved from the beach, we observed the rubble and debris of the great battle which had been fought here days ago. Over the dusty, narrow roads rumbled the columns of the military vehicles moving to and from the beaches. The thick, green foliage along either side of the road was the hated hedgerow which we became more familiar with as time passed and our progress across the Peninsula continued. It was late afternoon when we were directed to a temporary assembly area and halt about five miles from the beach. We consumed a hasty dinner of K or C rations; mechanical difficulties were repaired, and we were off to our first bivouac area near Fierville, France, some 38 miles distant. We passed the shell and bomb-shattered structures of what had formerly been the Cities of Montebourg and Valognes - ghost cities now with but a remnant of their former population. Signs of warning were visible every few yards and their cautionary words were already becoming firmly fixed in our minds: "MINES --- ROADS SWEPT TO HEDGES ONLY." During a momentary halt we did not venture far afield. |
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Initial Bivouac - Darkness had already fallen when we reached the designated area and almost immediately, as if impelled by some unseen force, the men began to dig their foxholes and slit trenches close to their sleeping places. All trucks had been dispersed throughout the fields and the huge camouflage nets draped over them. The blackness and eerie stillness of this hedgerow and sniper cuntry [country] had alerted all of us to the danger and trickery of the enemy. Security guards were posted about the bivouac as we prepared to retire for the first night in France, beneath the stars. John Mooney was standing guard near the halftrack which was parked close to several apple trees. Without warning something struck him and a cold sweat broke out as he visioned Heinie paratroopers hiding behind the hedges. Thoughts of "a horrible end" ran through his head, but it was nothing more than a failing apple which had glanced off his helmet. The somber quiet of the night was broken about 1 a.m. by the dull throbbing motors of an enemy plane circling over the encampment. He was dropping flash bombs and flares, intent upon discovering the force compacted in the fields for miles around. It was "Bed-Check Charlie" seeking choice targets. He proved to be a damned nuisance for on many occasions thereafter we were awakened by the sound he made overhead. The darkness was impenetrable as the men rigidly observed and enforced all orders for the necessary blackout. We had received instructions to fire at the mere flicker of a cigarette or flash of light. Carl Knappman, resolved at all times to obey an order, almost blasted Ed Kissel's head from his shoulders with a carbine shot as the latter flashed a light through the hedges. The company remained here, awaiting our Parts Supply Section which had remained at Southampton. We were beginning to speculate upon their fate. The weather was most favorable and some platoons were actively engaged in servicing vehicles of division units. To overcome the thickly matted and deep-rooted hedgerows, a cutting device had been improvised from the steel tank barriers collected from the beaches. These were cut with acteylene [acetylene] torches, shaped and welded into sharp-bladed ETO "machetes" and then affixed to the tanks which might then proceed through and over any barrier in their path. There was little rest for Sgts. Berstecher, Callender, Devall, Makstutis and Roberts. "Tommy" Atkins and "Tarzan" Ricci surprised us all with their determination and physical stamina in getting the work completed. Instrument Repair Section was daily acquiring a number of enemy devices and instruments which they were later to modify and reconvert for the use of division elements. Lt. Stolz was bringing in a quantity of German small arms weapons and almost anything he could lay his hands on. The Small Arms Platoon was busy tearing down these guns for whatever parts they might need in the future. And Sgt. Fred Leyde, ably assisted by Fox, Lucas and Seefeld, took great interest in the mechanism of the pieces. The kitchen tent had been erected, and, under the supervision of "Smiles" Stanley, the capable cooks and temperamental KP's surprised us with a welcome respite from the K, C and 10-in-1 rations. We would soon have a belly-full of these delectable packages when the "rat race" across France commenced. We sampled our first litres of Normandy apple cider and the potent Calvados or "White Lightning" in this area. On one memorable occasion three men staggered several miles across farms and marshes to make an unsteady appearance on the road before the camp, oblivious to all about them. When the "Dog-Patch Boys" -- Jewell, Morgan, Payne, Moore and Nail -- "hit the bottle," Stanley, boss of the flying kitchen, had great difficulty arousing them to their chores. Forrest Johnson and "Ghosty" Kampmier had their first bout with "Kid" cognac, and thereafter tried out a grave for size. The men soon learned to stay clear of the almost killing stuff and to concentrate their trading and bargaining talents on eggs. "Cowboy" Wiedlich, the "Underground Farmer," and "Jake-the-Barber" Judy staged a rodeo of their own for several days when a neighboring farm mule came into our bivouac. Somehow, they managed to get astride the beast and then proudly cantered about from truck to truck exhibiting their horsemanship. The Lord knows Weidlich "cowboy-ed" that peep of his until it was beyond the stage of retiring to green pastures. An 11-day stay here enabled the men to launder their "panties and scanties" in the shallow creek near the entrance to the camp. On July 21, Lt. Bragg changed his colors, those gold bars being transformed as if by magic into silver. Hardly any threads among the gold for the present, but his problems were ahead. The men were sniper-wary and your own buddy, hidden behind the hedges, might have opened up at the slightest movement and rustle of the underbrush. Considerable care was taken of all weapons, but one evening Hutcherson, in his zeal and preparation for any eventuality, accidentally fired a round. Immediately the entire camp was aroused and awaited the Heinies. In no uncertain terms he was "advised" by Capt. Hall to take greater care and think of the possible disastrous result of a stray shot in the company encampment. Stove disc generators had been hastily covered with a thin layer of dirt in the kitchen area as the cooks prepared a gag for an unwary sentry. They had a great laugh at the expense and fright of the Small Arms guard detail who trod upon what they supposed were anti-personnel mines, defectively wired. All dread and fearful thought of what might have happened to Tech. Sgt. Schaeffer's Parts Supply Section, which hadn't been accounted for in almost a week, vanished with their arrival several days before the break-out of Normandy. Lt. Wurst explained there was no available space for his vehicles aboard the LST's at the time of the company's departure and he and the men remained at the marshalling area until they were instructed to leave later on. They had begun to believe the transportation authorities had forgotten their existence when they were directed to the port, and boarded, a Victory Ship for the channel crossing. The section remained aboard six days, close to the beach approach, while enemy bombers and fighters came over them each night, driving them from their beds to the deck. Harassing explosions resulting from scuttling operations of some of our beached craft for breakwaters had the men in a frenzy; they believed mines were being dropped near their vessel by the planes above. Finally they debarked over a floating dock and sought directions to the company bivouac. While Lt. Wurst was seeking us. Third Army Traffic Control directed the vehicles to the encampment in his absence. |