|
Despite the non-prosperous situation, we enjoyed
many opportunities for sports and other activities in which
growing boys participate.
In the process, we developed ambition, work
ethic, and exciting goals which fostered educational desires and
future opportunity, as well as mature interpersonal
relationships.
My father was a World War I veteran, so when
we went to college we joined the ROTC program. On December 7th
1941, All the ROTC boys donned uniforms and marched the
dormitory halls singing and shouting. They were ready ! In
retrospect, everyone jumped into the spirit of war and the
sacrifice that came with it. My older brother and I were in the
military, immediately, and the other 3 volunteered : one Navy ,
two
Marines.
The mobilization of people and resources which
immediately followed, was a feat bordering on miraculous.
Industry and civilians alike embarked on a war effort we could
only imagine and hope for. At the time I thought this was a
“holy” war. Nothing has happened since, to change my mind.
General Ulio, the Adjutant General of the
Army, delivered the commencement address May 29th 1942 and
presented our 2nd Lieutenant Commissions along with orders for
duty.
I reported for duty 6/29/42 and was assigned
to a Field Artillery Replacement Training Regiment at Fort
Bragg, N.C. There, I immediately attended a refresher course for
officers which eased our entrance to official duty. While on a
field problem, I encountered a Paratrooper running along the
railroad tracks. He and his buddies were returning from a jump
at a DZ near Fayetteville and they were returning to their
bivouac area. This wiry little guy was running with both hands
full of canteens trying to catch up to his buddies (I guess he
drew the short straw). He said they had to be back at a certain
time or they went on a hike that night. I was assigned the “old
men's” platoon (38 year old men with beer bellies) at the time
and when I saw the vigor and attitude of this fellow, I thought
“This is the type of person, with whom, I want to serve.
I found out that they were recruiting
volunteers for the Airborne; applied and promptly got orders to
Jump School. When I finished Jump School, I was ordered to
attend parachute rigger school. This training prepared me for a
very interesting and exciting participation in development of
equipment with which to deliver materiel (today the military
calls them “assets”) to the DZ (drop zone) simultaneously with
the Troops. However, it would later cause chagrin when I found
out, I would be the rear echelon commander while my buddies went
to the Invasion of Sicily. My best friend, Lt. Derby was KIA and
I had the sorrowful task of preparing his personal belongings
for disposition. The unpleasantness of war had arrived.
When I completed rigger school, I was assigned
to the Test Battalion at the time it was in transition from the
Test Battery. I was named Assistant Parachute Maintenance
Officer. A large group of personnel arrived at the same time and
we were all full of pioneering spirit, knowing we were part of
new and exciting military endeavor. I, personally was enjoying
the experience, as most 21 year olds would. Shortly thereafter,
I was promoted to Parachute Maintenance Officer and continued in
the development of new equipment for airborne delivery in
combat. I had a section of very willing and capable parachute
riggers who could turn out new harness and canvas containers
promptly and of high quality.
Things were moving fast and, after continuous
visits from upper echelon brass, we found ourselves part to the
82nd Airborne Division. I think this may have stunned some of
us. We had the current development program on our minds and here
we were joining a combat Division. Consultants from Rock Island
Arsenal visited and took measurements etc. for the design of
plywood containers for airborne delivery of some of the
equipment. And a crash program of all the drop equipment was
started. Meanwhile the engineers at Rock Island Arsenal were
manufacturing plywood containers for dropping the guns and
instruments.
Our field training continued and in April 1943
we had our overseas orders. We moved to Camp Miles Standish for
staging with complete removal of all unit distinguishing things
including jump boots, patches etc.; i.e. a secret move. That
characteristic (secret) disappeared the first night, when a
group of men encountered some amphibious troops at the PX
wearing jump boots. Apparently the men were quite chagrined to
see other troops wearing their distinctive footwear and after
some conversation with the amphibious soldiers stationed there
proceeded to involuntarily modify their boots to low cuts. So
much for secrecy.
We then proceeded to a New York City port and
embarked under darkness on the S.S. Monterey for the convoy to
Casablanca. On the high seas we had the convoy position on the
port side of the battleship Texas. This gave a glimpse of some
things which introduced us to the war e.g. a submarine attack
one night with depth bombs and multiple lights and activities on
the Texas. Another, the daylight crash of the reconnaissance
seaplane carried by the Texas which eventually was dumped into
the sea.
The on board personnel management involved
mass movement at appointed times to meals, deck positions (one
night on deck-one night in hold) and bunks (3 tiered in the
converted staterooms). Every day, at sundown, the garbage and
trash was dumped off the fan tail to preclude sea gulls visiting
and attracting attention during daylight.
When we arrived at Casablanca, we went to a
plowed field outside of town and established our first bivouac
(pup tents) and opened our C-rations. Welcome to the war ! We
moved to Oujda and then to our training area in Karouan and
learned how to deal with flies, heat and slit trenches. Our
training was suspended every several days for parades. I think
every field General in the ETO reviewed us. General Patton gave
a post parade lecture to the Officers on what our future action
would be in very colorful language.
The living conditions prepared us for the
hardships to come. Reveille 1st call signaled a mad rush to the
slit trenches. The C-rations didn't put weight on anyone and
showers were infrequent.
Karouan, North Africa.
I was in charge of the Rear Echelon for the 456th during the
Sicily Invasion, August 1943. My CP was the olive tree in the
rear.
We received several new Officers and one of them asked me to cut
his hair.
I started by using the clippers straight down the middle of his
head.
I compensated him by allowing him to do the same to me.
We killed some quail that were feeding under the olive trees and
had the first fresh meat since we got off of the boat in
Casablanca
(the M1A1 carbines left the breast, if it hit them right).
The pack rats slept with us under the trees.
(This is where I prepared Lt. Derby's personal belongings for
disposition).
Around 500 parachutes were delivered to us
and, by command of Colonel Harden, drop-tested. This kept the
parachute section busy and , hopefully, assuaged the fear of
equipment failure at the time of the invasion, it also
provided valuable experience for the rigger personnel and
myself. I had the duty of jumping the chutes of anyone who
refused to jump in order to preclude faulty equipment as an
excuse. Refusers were subject to court-martial for refusing a
direct order. I rather enjoyed this duty, since I didn't wear
any equipment and had a Jeep waiting for me on the ground. One
interesting event occurred during a jump involving my riggers.
One of them in my plane refused to jump. After we landed, as the
Jumpmaster involved, I reported it to Captain Garrett, Hqs
Battery Commander. He summoned the “Refusee” and, in my
presence, informed him he would be court-martialed for
disobeying my order. In refusing during a jump, the soldier
jeopardizing the safety of the whole operation. It usually
resulted in subsequent removal from Jump status as well as
military discipline (court-martial). The man pleaded for another
chance to jump. He stated that he didn't want to quit; but felt
ill that morning. After grimly rebuking him, Vic Garrett offered
him another chance. That afternoon the 3 of us went to the
airfield, enlisted our Liaison Officer to act as jumpmaster. The
plane took off and promptly approached the the nearest
designated drop Zone The jumpmaster gave the order to “stand in
the door”! I would jump first, the soldier next and Vic last.
Just before I jumped, I noticed Vic had his hands on the outside
of the jump door with the soldier sandwiched between us. When
the “Go”! order came the 3 of us popped out of the door. 'There
would be no refusing this trip. We all landed close together and
that soldier was the happiest man on the planet. He thanked us
profusely and assured us he would not fail again. He was a model
soldier henceforth. I think Vic liked to jump; and felt it would
be good for the morale of my closely-knit group. Sometimes a
little compassion can go a long way.
There were several training jumps during this
period. I recall one night jump which seemed to portend the
difficulty of C-47 navigation during jump operations. Lt.
Crossman's ship got lost from formation and flew quite a while
before it was evident they were lost. Finally the pilot gave the
green light and Lt. Crossman, being alert to the situation,
refused to give jump orders. Apparently C-47 pilots didn't like
to land with belly loads still attached, which seemed to be what
happened. When the plane finally found it's way back and landed,
the angry pilot threatened Lt. C. but, cooler heads prevailed
and nothing happened to Lt. C. who explained his actions. Only
the Lord knows where those troopers would have landed in that
mountainous country. There has been a lot of post war discussion
about this topic, especially among the members of the C-47
Association. I think it is only one of the many problems which
accompany a new type of warfare. Unfortunately, the learning
curve in the military has grave consequences and reflects why
training safety is emphasized.
When D-day came, I was left behind with the
parachute equipment in charge of the rear detachment along with
similar personnel from the 505. Eventually, we moved to the
Bizerte area where we remained until the move to Naples. At that
point, we operated as ground troops until the Southern France
invasion. While still in Hqs. Bty, with parachute equipment in
storage, I did forward observation duty. I was pleased to get my
opportunity to serve in combat. My first FO experience came on
Christmas Day 1943 on Hill 1205 near Venafro, Italy. I arrived
at the summit shortly before sundown and settled into the cave
that would be my shelter. As dusk settled in, I spotted my first
target – an artillery battery in the valley below. After
adjusting and firing “for effect”, Vic Garret blasted the target
for an hour. The last time I saw any activity in that area.
When I got to Anzio, I was assigned to A Bty
and learned the art of forward observation from Lt. Sheppard. It
was at this time, that I received a Purple Heart. While
observing from a very forward position, firing multiple “targets
of opportunity” and enjoying it, I was besieged in my farmhouse
OP by a German tank. When I retreated from my perch in the attic
to the rear of the house, near an open side door, a shell landed
just outside the opening and a small piece of shrapnel entered
my scalp. I scampered back to the main position and the
Regimental Surgeon removed it; after determining that it had not
penetrated my skull. I currently refer to this as my “Kerrey
Purple Heart”. My brother in the 4th Marines had been wounded
several weeks earlier and my mother had a very difficult time
when the notification came. The Surgeon was very understanding;
and by treating me at the Aid Station, precluded the official
notification from reaching my parents. (years after the war;
when her 5 sons were back from the war, established, and
enjoying life, she would develop unremitting Depression which
would end with her suicidal death).
Anzio was a difficult situation because of the
terrain. Daytime activity required remaining in the canals to
avoid observation. We later saw the railroad artillery piece,
nicknamed the “Anzio Express”, on the way to Rome. Spring came
and everyone became a little restless because of the inactivity;
but the indomitable GI found solutions for daytime inactivity.
Shell clusters had a metal bolt which made a good stake and the shell safety clips served as “horseshoes”. Voila' a game
with some action to break the monotony. 4 man was the format and
the Officers were enticed to play whenever they were available.
The losers had to do push-ups ( the number was set beforehand).
It was rather routine that the Officer's team lost which brought
forth cheers as the Officer paid his penalty along with his
partner.
I wasn't at Anzio when the 463rd was formed.
Warm, dry weather arrived and we were off on
the offensive to liberate Rome. Vic Garrett had fire control for
the massive Corps Artillery assigned to the operation. Our
offensive stopped the 1st afternoon at Highway 7. The next day I
started with the 45th Regiment and after crossing Hwy 7 with my
corporal, retreated when the platoon from the 45th retreated
under heavy fire from hull down tanks. It was at this time that
my corporal was killed while we took air bursting fire from the
tanks. Later that day a column of Mark VI tanks came from the
opposite direction and starting forming a line on Hwy 7. We
called Fire Direction and Garret turned his corps of artillery
loose. The sun went down as the area of the highway became a
cloud of dust. The Artillery fire continued all night (Vic ran
several outfits out of ammo ) and at dawn the enemy had
vanished. Several hours later, we passed through a T
intersection up the road where Lt. Rosen in the observation
airplane caught a massive road jam with the retreating troops
from the south and those we were chasing from the west became
fodder for the artillery. The mass of destroyed vehicles with
incinerated troops in them and mangled bodies was indicative of
the havoc being wrought by the advancing Allied troops...
The ensuing march to Rome was a well organized
advance with intermittent pauses as the fleeing Germans were
encountered. General Fredericks and the FSSF (First Special
Service Force) continued to display their competence in combat.
At one point in the advance, General Fredericks was riding a
horse. He would act as “point man” and make enemy contact .
Whereupon, his troops would proceed to rescue their commander
and rout the Germans. The rest of the Rome campaign is well
documented elsewhere.
Immediately after the capture of Rome, The
463rd was bivouacked in a monastery overlooking Lake Albano.
This is when the reconstitution of C and D batteries occurred.
The new batteries were assigned a cadre from the current
organization plus 100 recruits from the Basic Infantry
Replacement Training Corps with a small number from other
branches. With less than 6 weeks to train for the Southern
France invasion, an intensive training period was implemented to
make artillerymen and local security personnel (antitank and
antiaircraft) combat-ready .These personnel were quite adept in
reaching an acceptable level of competence as the units evolved
and as combat activity would demonstrate. A credit to all
involved in the challenge.
D Battery's mission in Operation Dragoon was
local security. The artillery pieces were loaded on gliders at
Follonica and were never recovered by the 463rd... So D continued
it's original mission until later. I dropped with the group that
landed in the Le Muy area. Before we boarded the planes, we had
been given 2 pills ( amytal - a short-acting sedative and
scopolamine an anti-emetic) to prevent air-sickness. While there
was no sickness in my plane there was drowsiness. I recall the
crew chief notifying me (the jumpmaster) that we were 15 miles
from the DZ and the red light was on. The next thing I remember
the soldier next to me nudged me and said “Lieutenant, that
light is still on”. Whereupon I jumped up and proceeded to
prepare for the jump. It was very exacting ensuring everyone was
properly hooked up and prepared for exit in the darkness. When I
looked out the door as I waited for the green light, I noticed
red lights outside the plane. I'm not sure whether it was flak
or exhaust from the airplane. All it did was make me glad we're
going to get out of that plane, shortly.
For a number of days before the jump, we had
studied a sand table model of the DZ area. Needless to say, I
was diligent in my study. I noted a river south of the DZ... I
had water landing training, so, I was prepared to avoid drowning
on landing (I was a good swimmer and I had a life vest). The
plane did not slow very much before exit, so, we had plenty of
time to prepare for landing. As we descended I heard what I
perceived to be water and was prepared for a water landing.
About this time Mother Earth bumped me in the rear end as I made
a soft landing. What I was hearing turned out to be soldiers
crashing into trees. And I was in a small clearing.
Unfortunately, some of the equipment had
landed in a ravine and it was impressive to see gun crews, with
expletive exhorting by gunnery Sergeants, muscle guns up
inclines to level ground positions. As we assembled and
organized, I recall passing a soldier from my battery asleep at
the roadside (I presume from the “puke medicine”). I kicked him
in the foot and said “get up soldier ! There's a war on”.
Southern France shortly after
the invasion;
somewhere in the vicinity of Le Muy
It was several days before the D battery
contingent which had landed in the south arrived with a story of
fun surprising the Germans and having one company of the enemy,
with a Captain in the lead, surrender and announce that they had
been waiting for the invasion. An indication of the morale among
some of our enemy.
After he Southern France invasion and the
adventurous operation in the Maritime Alps the next operation
followed in the French Rivera at the Italian border in a
defensive mode with minimal activity. Then the organization
moved to Mourmelon by truck and train (40 and 8 type box cars).
Typical French speed. The train would stop, intermittently, and
the engineers would be picking grapes in a vineyard adjacent to
the tracks or some such thing, which enabled us to dismount and
stretch a little.
Arriving in Mourmelon, we were bivouacked in
the same area as the 101st. Shortly, I would learn that we
happened to be in the right place to be attached to the 101st
for another “Rendevous with Destiny”. On the evening of December
18th, We had barely settled into our bivouac area. I voluntarily
assumed the duty of OG. When I eventually went to bed the phone
rang before I finished my night prayers. It was Headquarters
notifying me I was to report to the CP. Thus began, the rapid
preparation for a trip to Werbomont, Belgium. Our destination
would change enroute. It was well after dark when our convoy of
A battery and D Battery got underway. A company of Quartermaster
trucks were to transport us. Needless to say, the truck drivers
were apprehensive, having never been exposed to combat
conditions. I rode in the lead truck of the D Battery column
which was one of ours with our driver. Our map showed a fork in
the road up ahead. I naively assumed the A Battery column ahead
of us was aware and would make the proper move at the
intersection. I was dozing when my driver suggested that we were
in trouble. The column was stopped. I dismounted and looked
around; then walked to the head of the column and talked to the
Lieutenant (who will remain nameless) in the lead Jeep. We
agreed we had missed the turn after he drove several miles up
the road and found no intersection. We made the decision to turn
the column around. With the wet terrain this proved daunting.
After several trucks became stuck in the muddy field and were
winched back to the road, we placed a winch truck out in the
field and laboriously winched the trucks, one by one, out to the
winch truck and back to the highway. Finally, The last truck was
back on the road, The roadside winch vehicle with front wheels
in the ditch would not move. The driver insisted his front wheel
drive was broken. I was suspicious and told one of the other
Lieutenants to try it. He placed the front drive in gear and
backed it out with no difficulty. The quartermaster driver was
apparently nervous out of fear of what was ahead. We resumed our
return to the proper intersection and continued our journey to
Werbomont. We stopped at the point where we had been instructed
to proceed under blackout and checked to make sure we were all
on the same page. I was very wary that we do it correctly. When
we stopped I was in my Jeep now leading the convoy. My driver
lit a Coleman stove and placed it on the hood of the Jeep.
Before he could do anything else a tank destroyer came up headed
in the opposite direction. The commander shouted “put out that
light”. I approached him and told him what our orders were and
he responded that things up ahead of us were changing rapidly
and to beware. The stove was extinguished and we resumed the
convoy. Shortly thereafter, we stopped behind a column of
vehicles and found out our destination had changed. I'm not sure
we knew exactly where it would be at that point. Soon after,
with no further movement, daylight came and we were shrouded in
dense fog. I was concerned about air attack on our bumper to
bumper column. We discussed what we would do if such were to
happen. Fortunately, the weather continued to protect us until
later in the day when we arrived at Bastogne and took our battle
positions.
Serendipitously, D Battery guns were emplaced
in a box formation. This later allowed fire capability to any
part of the perimeter of the “hole in the donut”. On Christmas
Day, we were firing for effect with “ Division one round”, since
all of our HE ammo was exhausted as was the rest of the
artillery units. Meanwhile other units in the battalion had
occupied previously designated positions to repulse armor. Their
heroic accomplishments are documented in the history.
On the day after Christmas, General Patton's
4th Armored broke through the perimeter and Patton came by on
his way to the front line. He stopped at our gun position. I
reported to him and he asked for a telephone. I was able to
direct him to my phone attached to a pine tree 3 paces to his
right. He stated that he wanted to “get some Air on that sh..
that was coming in”. He jumped back into his Jeep and was off to
the front. Shortly thereafter, 3 P-47s appeared above us. Before
I could do anything beyond identification, an AA gun on the hill
belonging to the adjacent artillery battalion fired at them.
They promptly circled and deployed into dive-bombing
configuration. At this point I phoned my AA guns and ordered
them to fire at them because they were going to bomb us. After
several bursts made contact the P-47's pulled up and decided to
leave. The gun which attracted them from on the hill was silent
during this. After I gave the fire order I ran to my personally
dug trench and found it occupied by Lt. Whittington (who hadn't
dug one) who refused to leave. By that time, the planes were
leaving and I was giving the Lt. a piece of my mind.
The following day, General Taylor arrived
fresh from his family Christmas visit in the US and inspected my
battery position; which he proceeded to criticize.... “Why were
the guns in this unusual position “? (box formation for 6400 mil
field of fire) ”Why were men sleeping by the guns “? ( they were
firing 24 hrs a day) ”Why didn't they have clean clothes”?
(they're back in Mourmelon), etc, etc.... That evening we
reconnoitered a new gun position and moved the next morning.
While we were moving, General Patton was busy in front of us
relieving three newly-arrived Infantry Regimental Commanders
because they had not achieved their objectives by noon. An
offensive had started that morning which placed our activities
in rather bold comic relief. So much for satisfying General
Taylor's abiding by the “book”. This was not the only incident I
had with General Taylor. I have to wonder why a Field Commander
would humiliate a battery commander, and his men who have been
through more than a week of 24 hour combat under very adverse
conditions and require them to change positions in the midst of
an offensive. And within a couple of days of being relieved. I
could imagine his having, inadvertently, missed his opportunity
to write a heroic chapter in history by taking Christmas
vacation might have entered into his demeanor; hardly consonant
with the conduct of a brilliant field commander. I don't like to
talk badly about a dead person, but, I hope for the opportunity
to discuss this with him sometime, in a more spiritual setting.
After these many thoughtful years, I have decided he lacked a
characteristic of great leaders viz. “the common touch”.
General
McAuliffe certainly displayed it at Bastogne. Early Christmas
Eve we received a paper Christmas greeting from him followed by
a personal visit to the fighting units under his command. When
he came to D battery, and I reported to him, he returned my
salute and proceeded to the gun positions and offered praise and
words of encouragement and inspiration to the battered
individuals manning the positions. A brilliant demonstration of
“the common touch”. And we all know what happened the following
day. General McAuliffe richly deserved the place he has received
in history.
After our mission to Alsace, we were sent to
Dusseldorf-Neuss area of Germany. I remember observing across
the Rhine to Dusseldorf, where factories were still working. We
had daily TOT (time on target) fire missions shortly after the
noon whistle blew. Neuss had munitions factories untouched with
only the main power switch destroyed. The residential areas were
completely demolished except for a few apartment buildings. The
allies were bombing the people late in the war, obviously. I
recall seeing some children playing in the street and watching
them scatter to shelter when they heard an airplane approach. A
grim reminder of the horror of war and what it does to people.
When we left Neuss, we ended up on VE Day (my
birthday) near Miesbach Germany, adjacent to the Autobahn. Part
of the German army was marching up the highway 10 abreast with a
General leading them and accompanied by a few American Jeeps on
the way to Munich. We also went by a concentration camp with the
newly released victims walking up the side of the highway. They
were emaciated and barely able to wave at us as we passed. This
sight really “grabbed” me; as I realized, THIS IS WHAT WE WERE
FIGHTING FOR !!!!!!!!!
I still “tear up” when I recall that
sight.
I received orders to turn in all ammunition at
the dump in Munich. Accordingly I placed one of my Lieutenants
in charge and sent the convoy on their way – he led the convoy
in a Jeep. I gave him instructions to find overnight
accommodations for the men and to return the following day. The
bridges on the Autobahn had been demolished so the bypasses
slowed travel. The following morning, when I went to breakfast,
I saw all the convoy truck drivers. I asked why they were back
so soon and they replied that they made such good time they
turned around and returned. Typically, the type of Soldier we
had in our outfit. They left the Lieutenant in their wake with
their vehicles in 5th gear and avoided the opportunity to find
trouble in Munich. Their opportunity for celebration would come
later.
Several days later we embarked for what would
be our respite from war. We arrived in Bad Reichenhall to find
that our Air Corps had bombed the luxury hotel and the brewery.
However, there was plenty of alcoholic beverage stashed in
hospitals and other locations. This had been the
Communication center for the entire German Army. There were
large telephone cables coming into it from all over Europe,
apparently. It was
reported that 800 German WACS were there. When we arrived, all
German forces had gone underground. We were forbidden to
fraternize with them. The only female visitors to our Officers
mess in the Cafe Reber were Army nurses.
D Battery was assigned a group of single story
apartments and several houses. Within an hour of our arrival in
the area, 1st Sergeant DeLisle informed me that we had just
liberated 51 cases of cognac. This was French cognac with a
Wehrmacht stamp on it it which meant it was “contraband”. I told
him to be cautious how he allowed the men to deal with this.
Realizing the war was over and filled with love and admiration
for my brave and loyal men, I chose to leave it in their hands.
There was a case of it under my bed when I retired that evening.
Needless to say, the men proceeded to enjoy a celebration which
continued in an orderly fashion due to the efforts of my
non-commissioned officers. However, Col. Cooper became aware and
was concerned that I should have taken control and offered it to
the Officers' Club. (which had enough for our needs). This was
a quasi-obsession with Col. Cooper. Practically every morning,
at breakfast, he would tell me a story of encountering a drunken
soldier who said he got the booze from D Battery. The obsession
ended when he inspected our battery area and found a ˝ bottle of
cognac. (he had warned of the inspection the day before; so
everything else went underground).
In July, those of us who were going home were
transferred to the 17th Airborne. I became a temporary
Regimental Executive Officer under Colonel Nelson. This was a
critical time for the soldiers who, now, had nothing to do. I
recall one soldier who stole a Jeep and went AWOL. Several days
later his remains were returned to us in a body bag. He had been
drunk and had a fatal Jeep accident. When the Adjutant asked me
what to note in the morning report, I had to tell him the status
was still AWOL. I felt sorry for his family because I wasn't
sure how this would affect his veterans' benefits and his
discharge. One of the bad feeling incidents of my time in the
service. My worst emotional experience was packing Charlie
Derby's personal belongings after he was killed in Sicily. He
and I were very close during training and had motorcycles at
Fort Bragg – much to the chagrin of Colonel Harden who had a
dislike for them for some unknown reason. The day before we left
for overseas, he delighted in informing us to “dispose of them
by 1500 hrs today”. We had previously arranged to have them
shipped home and took them to the motorcycle shop in
Fayetteville.
After the war, I had occasion to visit the
Derby family in Worcester, MA, which was an emotional and
mutually satisfying experience. I could envision my family in
such a situation; another reminder of my good fortune. Thanks
God !
In September '45 I journeyed from Marseille to
Boston to Fort Dix, New Jersey and was discharged. I returned to
my family in Rochester, N.Y. I was the first child out of the
service. My 4 brothers (1 in the Army, 1 in the Navy and 2
Marines) had not returned from overseas service at the time. I
lived with my parents and returned to St. Bonaventure College as
a graduate assistant while applying to medical school. I entered
the University of Rochester Medical School in 1946.
After arriving home in 1945, I became
romantically involved with an earlier acquaintance and we
married just before my second year. When I finished medical
school and postgraduate training in 1951, we returned to
Rochester, N.Y. With 2 sons. I joined the medical staff at St.
Mary's hospital where I had gained my inspiration to become a
physician. Soon after, I became Head of the Department of
Anesthesiology and developed the new Department, served as
President of the Medical Staff and spent the rest of my
professional career there dedicated to continuation of the fine
patient care I had received years earlier. I ,also, found time
to participate in multiple medical organizations. Our 3rd child
(a girl) arrived shortly after I entered practice.
I look back on my Army Service with gratitude
for survival and many lessons of life learned. One might say, I
achieved maturity very rapidly. I would have no qualms about
doing it all again. It was a blessing and I have never regretted
any of it except for the loss of some dear friends; most
especially Charlie Derby.
Right after the war, a few of the northeastern
folks started meeting once a year at someone's home for a long
weekend. Eventually, these reunions developed into larger
gatherings at Airborne reunions and meetings and have continued
for some 60 years. Currently, our ranks are dwindling and our
reunion days are numbered.
We have been blessed to have a number of
Belgian citizens who have continued to memorialize the 463rd
Parachute Field Artillery Battalion in many ways. Filip Willems,
Webmaster of the 463rd website, is one of many Citizens of the
Bastogne area who refuse to forget the noble efforts of The US
Armed Forces in stopping the German War Machine.
I think the legacy of World War II which
cannot be forgotten; despite revisionist historians, is: WHEN
FORCES OF EVIL ATTACK THE UNITED STATES, EVERY CITIZEN SHALL
MOBILIZE AND NEUTRALIZE THOSE FORCES WITH THE BLESSING OF GOD
AND THE WILL OF THE PEOPLE !!!!!!!!
Hopefully, the Veterans' Organizations will
ensure this part of our history is not distorted or forgotten
and will ensure history curricula in our schools maintain it's
inclusion.
GOD BLESS AMERICA ! AIRBORNE ALL THE WAY ! |
