Memories of WW II as told by the Veterans who fought and
won the War.
encouraged to submit a personal entry of
their memories on the following pages.
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on, family and friends may submit an
entry in their name and dedicated to their
memory.
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Just got this story in. It comes from a platoon leader fighting in Europe. It is a two part story, so be
sure to read both.
Thank you for your service Wayne!
When the Third US Army was called to a halt of its dash across France and into Western
Germany, my unit was brought to a halt just east of Saarbrucken. I was commander of a
reconnaissance platoon and we had just pulled into a forested area and dispersed
our vehicles. As soon as we had our vehicles well spaced and relatively secure, I called my
men together and insisted that they spread out and dig fox-holes for their own safety. I could
read the distaste of such a project when they were all dead tired.
I had only been assigned to this unit several weeks before and I had been rather abrupt in
my approach to the men. I guess they thought that I was kind of hard because the only time
I spoke to them was when I had to give orders or directions. Personal conversation had not
entered into my relationship with my platoon members. Even my splendid platoon sergeant
was not a close friend. I did keep him completely aware of that which was going on in our
unit and what lay ahead of us, that is, if I knew it too.
I did know the names of each of my platoon members, their ranks and something of
their backgrounds and I always addressed them by their rank and last name. I had made a
practice though of being very thorough in giving directions to the entire platoon. Their
previous platoon commander had been badly wounded so I had stepped into a rather tough
situation. I wasn�t the only replacement though. Eight other men in the platoon were also
replacements.
But, we had come together quite well and my platoon members seemed to accept me as
I was. I made a point of reaching out to the men to make them feel that I actually cared
about their safety. There had to be a way to do this without being totally personal. It came
about the next day. We weren�t too sure where the German troops were sitting. Our patrols
had gone out about 1000 meters and hadn�t encountered anyone. So we kind of breathed a
sigh of relief, But, we kept very alert and maintained patrols in our area.
About ten o�clock in the morning though, we heard the frightening roar of artillery soaring
over our heads. I yelled for the men to take cover and motioned for the platoon sergeant
to assist me in getting all the men into their fox-holes or into a safe area. Suddenly, one shell
burst in a tree to the edge of our position and another one just thirty yards ahead of where I
was standing. I felt a thud on my helmet but paid no attention to it. I ran from fox-hole to
fox-hole to insure the safety of my men and I noticed that several men were looking at me
with startled glances. I just thought that they were surprised to see me, and I guess they
really were. I continued my race around the platoon and caught up with the platoon
sergeant who pulled me down next to him. He asked me rather abruptly if I had called up a
medic and I said, �no, nobody�s been hit.�
�Lieutenant,� he called, �you�re bleeding. You�ve been hit.�
I looked down at my shirt and saw blood dripping down from my head. I reached up and
touched the front of my helmet and I felt asharp piece of metal jutting out from my helmet.
�Oh hell! Call the medic,� I whispered to my platoon sergeant.
When the medic came up to our position, he pulled off my helmet and I let out a yell.
The metal had penetrated the helmet and lodged into the front of my forehead. The medic
refused to touch the metal and as a stupid act of bravado, I reached up and pulled out the
metal scrap. The medic covered it quickly with a bandage and led me to the ambulance.
After a quick trip to the field hospital, they put four stitches in my forehead, gave me a
shot and sent me back to my platoon. My men were surprised to see me and for the very
first time, I saw smiles on their faces and my sergeant came up and said, �Welcome back
sir>� This was the first time that I felt truly at home with my platoon. This was my first
purple heart but it was the first time that I felt wholly at ease with all my men. From then on
we were a hard, relaxed and complete unit.
Upon returning to my platoon near Saarbrucken, I felt quite relieved to find all my men in good shape and in relatively good spirits. The weather was very cool when we were instructed to prepare to move to a new location. We were going back to an area just east of the fine city of Metz.
It was about two weeks before Christmas and it seemed so great to have a few days of peace and quiet. We even took baths and put on clean clothes. Then after several days, something happened and I noted a sudden surge of movement. My squadron commander called me and in very terse tones instructed me to assemble all my platoon and gas up all my vehicles and prepare for immediate departure.
When I asked a few questions about where we were going and what we were expected to do, I was surprised with a rather abrupt, �I can�t tell you anything now.� A sudden burst of quiet filled the atmosphere and everyone seemed tense and worried.
Our M8s and our jeeps were all checked over, oil, gas, tires and everything seemed to be top-notch. Ammunition was filled, weapons were checked and plans were made on where we were to assemble for a quick takeoff. Everyone was astonished by the sudden surge of activity and their faces reflected the worry created by such limited information.
I assembled my platoon and tried to calm their fears with a promise to keep them informed as soon as information was available. The Sixth Cavalry Squadron was ready to go and my Recon Platoon was set to lead the way wherever we were destined to go. My men were all sitting next to their vehicles, smoking cigarettes and talking to each other in quiet voices.
Finally, my Squadron Commander put in his appearance and summoned me to join him along with all the staff officers and company commanders. In his hands he held several maps and pieces of paper. When we all grouped together and came to attention, he put us at ease and began his instructions.
He said somewhat blandly that he couldn�t yet tell us where we were going or what we were expected to do. He informed us that he would lead the way and that we were to maintain radio silence all the way.
We were soon on the road traveling in a northerly direction. Everyone seemed to be very attentive to their driving and proper distance maintenance. Wherever we were or where we passed through seemed to be just a blur. Finally, we hit the Luxemburg boundary and passed on but changed direction to a westerly course.
After pushing on for an inestimable time, we came upon the Belgian border and continued on in a northwesterly direction. When we arrived in Arlon Belgium, we were instructed to pull over to the side of the road and wait for further instructions. The Squadron Commander and Executive officer along with several other staff officers drove off toward the center of town.
We waited impatiently for what seemed to be several hours and finally the C.O. and other staff officers appeared. I was told to arrange for security of my vehicles and instructed to take my men into a church and prepare to sleep there overnight. Further instructions would be forthcoming when necessary. A number of local people had come out and were trying to speak to my men. When I spoke to them in French they were surprised and seemed to lurch out in friendship. They talked on and on and were disappointed when I had to leave them and return to my men.
After a quick emergency meal, we were instructed to turn in and get some rest. Fortunately, none of my men had to stand guard, so we all tried to relax and get some sleep. After a few uncomfortable snoozes, I woke up and was surprised to be hailed to a meeting with the C.O. and the Squadron S-3 and S-2 officers.
I was greeted with instructions to help myself to a canteen cup full of wonderful black coffee that was so hot I could hardly hold it. Then, the map was unfolded, taped to the wall, and the Commander stepped forward with his pointer. He glanced at me and asked if I was prepared to move out and astonished, I blurted out that we were always ready. Something must have happened because everyone laughed at my sudden outburst of tenacious readiness. The laugh seemed to relax everyone and the C.O. turned to the map.
The C.O. pointed to the map and showed us the city of Arlon and its position on the map. Then he looked at me and told me to be particularly alert. He then pointed to a major highway leading north out of Arlon, it was called Route Nationale Four, or just RN4. He continued traveling north pointing out the dense forest to the east and to the city of Bastogne further to the north.
He continued his report and to our astonishment, he informed us of the bold counterattack by the Germans and their obvious goal of reaching the city of Antwerp. When asked where the Germans were, the Commander bluntly replied, �I don�t know. That�s why we are here. Sometime today, Lt. Gordon is going to lead his Recon Platoon straight up Route 4 as far as he can get and see how close to Bastogne he can get.�
I must have slurped my coffee when I heard these instructions because everyone looked at me with very solemn faces. Further information came that was very disconcerting because it all was filled with, �We don�t know anything� type of answers.
I was further instructed to space out my platoon as much as possible and to cover as much distance as possible.
My three M-8s and my three jeeps were in excellent condition; the three 37-millimeter cannons on the three M-8s were ready, as useless as they were, but the mounted 30-caliber machine guns on the jeeps were loaded and ready to go. My men were restless but they illustrated very determined countenances as we waited for the go signal. I had gone over the map with them as completely as possible. I further instructed them on how to respond to different situations and how to keep me informed with as little use of the radio systems as possible.
Snow was everywhere. It was bitterly cold and none of us were even aware that Christmas day was just around the corner. I don�t know how to express my feelings. I know that I had to keep cool and calm for the sake of my men. But, inwardly I was quaking with fear. I even forced myself to grin now and then and tried to crack a few jokes. Fortunately, my platoon Sergeant was a great leader and he too displayed a matter-of-fact air that had a remarkable cooling effect on all of us.
The S-2 finally waved me off with a strong salute. I chose to ride in an M-8 with the tank commander while my platoon sergeant followed in a jeep. The other M-8s and jeeps followed as we rode north on RN-4. Once we broke out of town, we spaced out quite fully and began to pace along at a slow speed. We kept moving, stopping after several minutes of advance to search the surrounding land. But, it became more and more difficult as we advanced because of the density of the grand forest to our right. Oddly, it seemed so beautiful. The trees� bows were burdened down with heavy snow and occasional rises in the earth, covered with snow, gave us suspicious covers for enemy emplacements.
Moving stealthily along, we came upon a small village to the right. With some trepidation we moved forward. After about four miles, we became so relaxed that we almost became convinced that Bastogne had become freed and was no longer surrounded. We continued to slip slowly ahead when all of a sudden, to our right, from a snowy mound came instant cannon fire from a tank that was lying covered with snow.
A great explosion followed as my second M-8 flamed into pieces. My driver immediately slipped back onto the highway and retreated back onto RN-4. We were preceded by the three jeeps and followed by the other M-8. The Sergeants jeep had been hit by machine gun bursts and his gunner had been slightly grazed by machine gun shots.
When we retreated several hundred yards, we stopped and jumped onto the side of the road. The Sergeant and I decided to try going back on foot to see what we could find out about the Germans. We did see a few heavily coated German soldiers out exploring the destroyed M-8. I presumed the crew had been killed. I did reach my C.O. with news of our location and what had transpired. He told me to find out whatever I could about the German position.
My Sergeant and I faced each other with a glance of relief and said in unison,�What in the hell happened?�
After completing our interpretations of the attack, we laid out plans to continue our reconnaissance by foot patrolling. We took six of our men with us and, using the beautiful trees of the Argonne Forest, we crept back towards the German position. Fortunately, there were several soldats out looking at the remnants of our M-8. I prayed for the four crew men silently, but we floated around the site and continued under cover further up the road where we discovered more German tanks totally camouflaged with heavy snow.
We made it back to our vehicles after much stress and very cold snow-induced frosting. After long hours of clouded skies and showers of snow, we finally reached the city of Arlon where we were met by our C.O. and his staff officers. We informed them of all the details of our recon mission and placed as nearly as possible on the map the positions of the German Tiger tanks which were in hiding. The storming noise of the violent �88� which blasted into our platoon was still ringing in our ears.
The C.O. and the staff officers acknowledged our report and the C.O. retreated into his jeep and sped off to Corps headquarters. By this time other troops must surely have been in our area. We found out later that an Armored Division plus the 4th Infantry Division were on hand to pick up the attack.
We were stunned to see the sudden surge of traffic. We were even allowing ourselves to become angry when we saw supply truck drivers wearing big, warm leathered overalls with leathered pull-over caps designed for tankers. We felt left out. After all we were only Recon troops in big-wheeled M-8s and jeeps. Oh! What the hell!
The attack must have taken place quite rapidly. We saw tanks and trucks driving north on RN 4 and we stood in utter amazement. The day was clear. The aircraft were flying. It was Christmas! We could hear the sound of fighting to our north and were all praying that the German tanks had met their end.
Several days passed and we were again on our trail to the north and to the east. We were destined to provide the link between two side-by-side divisions. As we drove along the road toward our new position we saw a number of German tanks shattered to pieces and their crews lying under the snow. We saw one poor tank commander who had been blown out of the turret of his tank. He was lying behind his tank, partially covered with snow, and a part of his physical body sticking up in the air. My Sergeant and I looked at each other and grimaced.
We finally reached our position, just west of the City of Echternach in Eastern Luxemburg. My particular job was to do reconnaissance to our forefront. Another M-8 with its crew had been assigned to my platoon. We took them in quite warmly and felt quite at ease with them.
When we had arrived at our position and linked up with the two divisions, my C.O.summoned me to his vehicle and pulled out his map. He pointed out that the forest continued to fall away as we moved east. He reiterated the need to keep our eyes on the enemy positions and thus my responsibility was evident. Sooooo! Off we go! I took one of my M-8s and two jeeps out onto the road, heading east. We crept along, viewing everything with great fervor. The land was much more open and visibility was nurtured by the openness. We were conscious of the possibility of mines being laid on or next to the roadway so we were very alert to about everything.
As we moved forward, we saw absolutely nothing but, all of a sudden, a young boy about fifteen or sixteen, dressed in a German uniform leaped up on the roadside not ten feet from my M-8. He was camouflaged with plants on his helmet and blackening on his face. As I watched him, he held up his arms which held a panzerfaust and pointed it directly at the side of my M-8. He pulled the trigger and immediately the panzerfaust rammed into the side of the M-8, exploded, blowing up the boy as it splashed into our vehicle. My driver and bow gunner were instantly killed. My tank commander and I who had been at the very top of the turret were blown out onto the ground.
Fortunately, there were no other gun emplacements or enemy emplacements in the immediate area. My two jeep crews leaped out of their vehicles and rushed to our aid. My tank commander and I were both still alive but neither of us could stand up. My right leg was pretty badly shattered and a lot of tiny fragments in the lower part of my body and my Tank commander were about the same. My crew took me back to the unit and to the Field Hospital where I stayed for several days.
I vowed to go back to my unit but, unfortunately, they already had a replacement for me. Since I would not go home, they finally assigned me to the l7th Armored Group where I stayed until the end of the war.
I stayed in Europe for several more years because of some personal desires but finally, in September of 1947, I came home to the good old USA.
the European and Pacific T of O. Hope you find it as interesting as I did. Thank
you for your service Pat!
In August of 1942, I turned seventeen years of age. I was not doing too well in
school, so I decided that I would join the Navy and help our country win the war.
The draft was calling up eighteen year olds and I wanted to avoid going into the
Army. By enlisting I was able to select the service that I would serve in. I went
through boot camp in San Diego, California, and was then sent to Bremerton,
Washington, where I was assigned to the Escort Carrier Core. The Core was newly
commissioned, having been converted from some other purpose, and after a
shakedown cruise, we were ordered to the Atlantic Fleet, based in Norfolk,
Virginia. One of the things I recall quite vividly is being literally prostrate on the deck
of the ship with seasickness as we steamed from Bremerton to San Diego. We
stopped in San Diego to load munitions, and then proceeded to pass through the
Panama Canal. We had liberty at one end of the canal, but I do not recall
the name of the city. After transiting the Panama Canal, we proceeded up the East
Coast of the United States and arrived in Norfolk. After a few days in Norfolk, we
departed to provide Escort duty to Convoys
crossing the Atlantic headed for England.
I recall that it was July of 1943 when we made our first cruise out of Norfolk. Our
primary duty was to hunt and destroy German submarines. We always had a search
plane up in the air and other ships in our battle group had sonar to detect the
submarines by their underwater sounds. After our first crossing of the Atlantic, we
docked in Casablanca, Morocco. I remember seeing the French battleship, Jean
Bartz, there in the harbor. It had been scuttled to keep it out of the hands of the
Germans. I do not know whether or not we destroyed any German submarines or
not. I was part of the deck force, which meant I had to keep the ship cleaned up and
I spent a lot of time chipping and painting. I also spent a lot of time on watch. In fact,
I wonder if my eye problems today are not connected to my standing watch and
peering through binoculars at the very bright seas. You would be surprised at how
bright the moon reflects off the sea at night.
Someone was standing watch twenty-four hours each day. But at night is when the
German Submarines would surface and also meet up with the �Mother Sub� to be
refueled and receive other supplies and mail. I recall at one point of rigging up a
breeches buoy to transfer mail and other things as well as personnel from a
destroyer to our carrier. I recall two instances when we transferred personnel from a
destroyer to our ship. In both cases, they were prisoners of war, rescued after their
submarine had been sunk. In one case, it appeared that their feet were bandaged as
though they had been injured in some way. We returned these injured personnel as
well as other Prisoners of War to Norfolk. On one cruise, we received on board the
skipper of a German submarine, rescued after his submarine had been sunk. I
happened to be handling some lines near where he came on board, and could not help
but overhear the conversation between our Skipper and the German submarine
Commander. Our skipper had found a man on our carrier who spoke German, but
the German Submarine Skipper spoke perfect English, as he had gone to school in
America. As they talked, the German was looking around, and I heard him say,
�That is the plane that sunk me!� Our skipper
replied, �Not that one, but one just like it!� When I heard that conversation, I thought
to myself, �Man, I�m in a real war now.�
On still another crossing, in New York, we loaded a bunch of barrage balloons and
P-51 aircraft to deliver to England. The P-51s had their wings removed, so we were
able to crowd a lot of them on board our ship. We delivered our cargo to Liverpool,
England and were given liberty while docked there. This was my first experience with
a monetary system other than dollars and cents. The British system of pounds and
shillings seemed weird and difficult to understand. Another sailor on our ship had a
one-pound note and before we docked, I traded him something for that one-pound
note. I recall seeing a British sailor shortly after we went ashore, and telling a buddy
of mine, �Let�s ask this sailor to help us, he probably speaks English.� I didn�t
realize that although the British speak English, they can be very difficult to
understand because of their accent. The British sailor did volunteer to accompany us
into a Pub, and stayed with us while I got my pound note changed into a handful of
coins.
When we departed Liverpool, we cruised through the English Channel where the
Invasion of Normandy was about to take place. I was on watch and had never seen
so many ships in one place. I noticed another ship, a Navy Cruiser, sending us a
message by visual code and then, all of a sudden, we were traveling at flank speed
away from there. I guess someone had told our ship to get out of the area. We
proceeded to Casablanca and had liberty there. We then came back to Norfolk and
the newspapers were full of headlines about the Invasion of Normandy.
There were three other sailors on our crew from San Antonio. One of them was a
yeoman and worked in the administration area. He told me he could get us all
assigned to shore duty. But I wasn�t interested in that. I wanted to be part of helping
win the war by continuing as a sailor on a fighting ship.
I was subsequently assigned to The Bennington, also referred to as CV-20. She
was commissioned on August 6, 1944, in the Brooklyn navy Yard and got underway
on September 12, 1944 on her shakedown cruise. After completing our shakedown
cruise to the Carribean, we returned to Norfolk and then Bayonne, New Jersey for
some rework of things discovered during our shakedown. Finally, in mid-December
we departed from Norfolk and headed for the Pacific Theatre by way of the Panama
Canal. We arrived in Christobal Harbor where half the crew had liberty, The
following day , December 21, 1945 we passed through the Panama Canal and that
night tied up in Balboa, Canal Zone, where the other half of the crew enjoyed liberty.
In an interesting aside, I had now passed through the canal in both directions. A
distinction that, I am told, very few sailors could say they had enjoyed.
The following day we started our run up the west coast, headed for San Diego.
We arrived San Diego on December 29. Here we welcomed on board two Marine Air
Squadrons with their complement of airplanes and men. After refueling and
replenishing supplies and loading every square inch of available space with extra
aircraft and other supplies, we departed San Diego on January 1, 1945. After an
uneventful crossing to Hawaii, we docked at Pearl Harbor and spent about three
weeks there. Everyone enjoyed liberty while tied up there, because we knew that our
next cruise would be into combat. On January 29, 1945 we departed Pearl
Harbor, headed west along with four other carriers and the battle cruiser Alaska.
We crossed the International Date Line on February 1 and 2, 1945. One week
later we dropped anchor in the western Carolines where a tremendous fleet of ships
was assembled. From there we headed for Japan as part of Fast Carrier Task Force
58. We would be carrying the war to Japan from a carrier, for the first time
since Gen Doolittle�s raid.
On February 16, 1945, we were 80 miles off the Japanese coast where we
launched our planes for their strike against Tokyo. We lost one airplane to enemy
action over Tokyo. But the guns on our ship were never fired during this action. We
then retired from the Tokyo area on February 18 and after refueling, our aircraft
provided air support for the invasion of Iwo Jima.
Several times we steamed back to within eighty miles of Tokyo, to send our planes
to attack targets in or near Tokyo. We also provided air support for the invasion of
Okinawa. This action went on for seventy days. I was part of a five-inch anti-aircraft
gun crew. My job was �fuse setter� which I performed by keeping two indicators
aligned by cranking two handles. This set the fuses in the five-inch shells so that they
exploded in the vicinity of the enemy aircraft when we fired the gun at them. On one
occasion, a Japanese fighter was attacking our ship and we kept firing at it but failed
to hit it initially. After repeated attempts to shoot it down, it was almost ready to
crash into the ship. All of a sudden, the airplane exploded as we made a direct hit on
it. It was so close to our ship that we could feel the concussion and the heat from the
blast as the fuel, bomb-load and five-inch shell all exploded at the same time.
From our position we could see the landing officer. He is the guy who directs the
landings as we recovered aircraft after their missions were completed. Normally, the
bombers were recovered first, and the fighters last. On one occasion, we saw a
fighter get in line to land ahead of several bombers. As he would come in to land the
Landing Officer would wave him off. The fighter pilot would go around again and be
allowed back in line ahead of bombers waiting to land. But each time he would be
waved off. Finally, the fighter plane ran out of gas and crashed in the Pacific almost
directly below our gun position. We watched helplessly as the aircraft slowly sank. Of
course, it was impossible for the carrier to stop to attempt recovery of the pilot. One
of our gun crew cussed the Landing Officer and he just replied, �The bombers are to
be landed first.�
One of the objectives of Carrier Task Force 58, was to sink the Japanese
Battleship Yamato. On April 7,1945 word was received that the last of Japan�s big
battlewagons was part of a large Japanese Naval Task Force headed toward us. Our
aircraft were the first to attack and the Yamato was hit amidships by a 1000 pound
bomb dropped by one of our bombers. The battleship was observed dead in the
water and later sank after being hit by several more bombs dropped by aircraft from
the Bennington and other carriers in the Task Force.
Shortly after the sinking of the Yamato, the Bennington struck and impaled a
whale. The skipper finally had to stop the ship and back away from the whale to get
it off the bow. The sharks really had a feast on the whale.
We had an encounter with a typhoon on June 6,1945 that buckled a 35 foot
section of the flight deck of the carrier. We steamed into Leyte Gulf in the Philippine
Islands where we anchored for twenty days while we underwent repairs to the
damage caused by the typhoon.
After the repairs were complete, we resumed our place in Carrier Task Force 58,
participating in more attacks on airfields and other targets on the Island of Honshu as
well as attacking shipping and other targets of opportunity.
Finally, the war came to a swift end with the dropping of the Atomic bombs on
Japan. Our ship was honored to be included in the surrender signing in Tokyo Bay.
I am proud to have been in the Navy and can say that I enjoyed my more than
three years spent in the service of my country during World War II.
Postscript from Ghost: I asked about the fighter pilot who was made to go around waiting for the
bombers to land, and I was told he had to ditch in the ocean and he did not make it. God Bless him
and all those who served!.
THANK YOU for your service, Pat!
my partner, Merle, after an interview with Jim. Remember, PLEASE ask a
Veteran for their story, and preserve their memories to honor their service!
Germany as a member of the US Army of Occupation. He landed in Bremerhaven
and traveled by rail to Augsburg in southern Germany. He was assigned to an
outfit referred to as the �Circle C Cowboys.� This name was based on the
shoulder patch that the members wore which consisted of a large �C� with a
lightning bolt superimposed on it. The outfit was part of the Constabulary, so
referred to because the term had meaning to the people who were residents of the
area. Jim was a three-stripe sergeant at this time and was assigned for a while to a
regular patrol route of about fifty miles length. He had a driver assigned and they
patrolled this route in a Jeep on a daily basis. On one of these routine patrols, as
they passed a farmhouse, Jim noticed some khaki clothing on a clothesline in the
farmers yard. He told the driver to stop and backup so that they might investigate
why a German farmer would have US Army khaki shirt and trousers hanging on
his clothesline. As Jim dismounted from the Jeep he reached for his M-1 Carbine
and headed for the door of the farmhouse. Just as he approached the door, it was
opened just enough for a large German Police dog to exit the house. The dog
proceeded to attack Jim, who was able to wrestle the dog to the ground and using
his driver�s belt, Jim was able to restrain the dog. At about this time the German
farmer came out side and called off his dog. The German was able to speak some
English and proceeded to invite Jim into the house. Both Jim and his driver
entered the house with their weapons at the ready. Jim was wearing a .45 Caliber
Army Automatic Pistol on his hip and was carrying his M-1 Carbine as was his
driver. After some tense moments, the German invited Jim and his driver to eat
with the family. In the course of conversations during the meal, a young man who
had been quiet until this time admitted to being AWOL (Absent With Out Leave)
from the United States Army. He was a Paratrooper and had jumped into
Northern Italy more than a year earlier, had become separated from his unit, and
met up with a girl who was a daughter of the farmer. The AWOL trooper and the
girl had traveled together for some time and made their way to her father�s farm.
The AWOL soldier, after telling his story, asked Jim what he planned to do with
what he had learned. Jim told the American soldier that it was up to him to decide
when and where he would turn himself in to the authorities, if he wanted to return
to the United States. Jim did not report the incident to his superiors and never saw
the man again. Jim still feels that he did the right thing.
Jim also performed guard duty of prisoners during the Nuremburg Trials and also
guarded German Prisoners of War who were forced to clean up the furnaces used
in the Nazi attempt to exterminate the Jews of Europe. Jim was reluctant to relate
the very distasteful details of these activities, preferring to, as he put it, to forget
them as much as possible.
Thank you Jim, for sharing your Memories and thank you for your service!
It was a real surprise to me, so see what you think.
about her husband, Walter R. Dunk, now deceased.
Walter R. Dunk enlisted in the U. S. Army Air Corps in August of 1941. He was
selected for Officer Candidate School and was commissioned a 2nd Lieutenant
upon graduation. The rest of this story is quoted from a letter Walter Dunk wrote to
his family in 1945 while stationed in Naples, Italy. (The letter was found in some of
his possessions after his death.)
�We boarded our ship, the U.S.S. Santa Paula of Grace Lines, about
3 o�clock on the afternoon of January 13th 1943. I suppose we resembled a train
of pack mules from the amount of junk we were packing. (If I�d only known they
intended keeping me over here this long, I�m afraid they�d still be looking for me.)
Anyway we pulled out of New York Harbor before daylight on the morning of the
14th, plenty cold, misty and amid plenty of wild stories as to where we were
headed. The trip over was quite pleasant, having been alerted for submarines only
twice, and at 5 o�clock on the evening of January 26th, we pulled into the harbor of
Mers el Kabir, �Oran,� Algeria. Our primary job over here was to provide fighter
cover for convoys traveling along the North African coast, and to protect harbor
and military installations along the coast from enemy air attacks. We did a pretty
good job of it, and it was finally decided about April 15th that we should make our
headquarters in Algiers. The move was made and we pitched our tents about
twenty miles outside Algiers (East) at a small place called Reghaia. It began to get
pretty darn monotonous there after a few months, so I finally requested a transfer
to this outfit. On August 3rd, my transfer came through and I found myself in a
forgotten spot on the desert called Telergma, about thirty miles from Constantine -
if the names mean anything to you � and approximately 90 miles southeast of
Bone. First thing I said upon seeing the place was �What have I gone and done this
time?� I �sweated� out the dust storms there until November3rd, 1943, at which
time I was transferred to Bari, Italy, and arrived just about in time for the quite
famous Bari raid. I imagine it was kept from you at the time, but I know it was
classified as our most serious disaster since Pearl Harbor. Seventeen ships were
sunk and over 1,000 killed. It happened on the cold night of December 2nd, but I
still did plenty of sweating. Lost my billet, bed, etc., got a few scratches from flying
stone and consider myself damn lucky. Used to be able to walk along the docks
three weeks after that raid and still see bodies floating around. Was stationed there
in Bari until April 23rd, 1944, at which time I was transferred here to Naples. Used
to get raids here every two or three nights, but didn�t have any eight months prior
to VE day. Jerry�s (Germany) reco�s (reconnaissance) used to pay us a nightly visit
but never bothered us much. Am still stationed here in Naples., longest I have ever
been in one place since I�ve been in the Army.�
Walter Dunk retired from the United States Air Force in 1961 with the rank of
Lieutenant Colonel, with just over 20 years service. He then worked at Medina
Base and Kelly AFB in Civil Service positions. He retired in 1979 due to failing
health. His illness was not properly diagnosed until May, 1991, after five bone
marrow biopsies. He then underwent extensive chemotherapy, but died on June 14,
1991. The cause of his death was myelogenous leukemia. Only after his death was
it determined that his illness had been caused by his exposure to mustard gas
released when the Germans bombed an American cargo ship stocked with mustard
gas in the harbor at Bari, Italy on December 2, 1943.
Our thanks to Walter Dunk�s widow, Marylen, for sharing his story and our sincere
thanks to Walter Dunk for his service and sacrifice.
The following story was sent in by the daughter of a veteran who served in the so. Pacific on an
Ordnance ship. Her tribute must make her dad as proud of her as she obviously is of him.
Thank you both for your service!
The 3414th Ordnance MM Company left San Francisco on February 26, 1943, on the USS Republic.
Aboard the ship were 5,200 troops, and a US Navy crew of 800. The ship zig-zagged every 9 minutes to
avoid Japanese torpedoes.
The USS Republic arrived in New Caledonia on March 20, 1945. New Caledonia was a forwarding
base for Iwo Jima, Guadalcanal, the Solomon Islands and the Philippines . Troops were brought to the
islands to replace the troops in battle. The troops on the islands consisted of US Army, US Marines, and
US Navy personnel.
The 3414th Ordnance, along with the 352 Ordance Bn, which included the 3415th Ord, and the 852
HM were to service and repair vehicles that were damaged in the war. The vehicles were brought to the
island by boat.
In the spring of 1945, the 3415th Ordnance was sent to the Philippines under the command of Colonel
Daniel Schlafly to be part of Operation Olymplic; a plan to invade Japan in November of 1945. The 3415th
Ordnance set up a site 75 miles south of Manila. The atomic bomb was dropped, and the war ended. The
3415th Ordnance recieved the Presidential Unit Citation , as well as other medals for their participation in
the Southern Philippines Campaign.
The Ordnance companies left the Pacific Theatre of Operations and arrived back in the United States
on December 19, 1945. The 3414th Ordnance Company has held 10 reunions since their release from
military service.
A very special thanks to Wilfred Engle, who has kept great records of the unit for all these years.
**** A very special tribute to my father who was part of the 3415th Ordnance Company in WW II.
Karen
P.S. Thanks so much for giving me the chance to post my story.
Karen
Vietnam Vet
soldier who served in Europe. It is not pleasant, but it is real and worthy of note.
~S~ Ghost:
Here it is. I decided to only tell 1 story though the other is how my grandad
married my grandmother. I will tell of his brother after I get the information
right. (This brother did not survive, and this is why I needed the search link
info to find his records as no one in the family truly new his fate nor asked.)
This event was my grandfather's biggest regret.
Herman, Joseph M. served with the 8th Army in Europe; he spotted artillary.
Not a very fun job as he had to sit at the target and call in fire. His unit was
quite lost and they stopped for a bit to determine where they were. They finally
decided to send a scout, and what better scout than the spotter, so off he went. After about 40 minutes on foot he came across a German armoured column
that was appearantly out of fuel. He sat down and roughly calculated his
position. After doing so he called in to the battery, and shells started falling
soon after. The barrage lasted for about three minutes. After they ceased
action the unit caught up to him. The attack was a "complete success": all 105
German personel were dead.
After he told me this story a tear came to his eye, he then told me that was the
worst day of his life and he still has bad memories of that day. Mainly because
they were in the wrong place and the German soldiers were caught completely
off gaurd as they waited for fuel. He told me they were relaxing and playing.
His words to me were"this was not war, it was murder." He has changed my
perspective on "glory", and "honour" in war.
Thank you for me to have a place to share this story. Sorry it wasn't a good
one. But this is the way it was for one man.
Sepulter
(Don)
(Ghost's Note: "Sepulter" is Don's callsign in our W.W.II virtual fighter squadron.)
THANK YOU for your service, Mr. Herman.!
