JCSM Shareware Collection 1996 September/JCSM Shareware Collection (JCS Distribution) (September 1996).ISO/elec_bks/letdos1.zip/CHAP2

Text File | 1994-03-22 | 36KB | 659 lines

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          *   CHAPTER 2: 4TH INFANTRY DIVISION LANDS IN NORMANDY  *
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          Other than rough seas, which increased the normal amount
          of seasickness, the channel crossing was uneventful. We
          boarded our Landing Craft Tank (LCT) in the port of
          Dartmouth, on a bright, sunny day. Lt. Col. Joel F. Thomason
          (Tommy) and I crossed the channel on the same landing craft
          as Col. James Van Fleet. He was commander of the 8th
          Infantry Regiment of the 4th Division, which was the assault
          regiment on Utah Beach. It was probably no coincidence that
          Maj. Gen.  Raymond O. Barton, commander of the 4th, chose
          the 8th for this task.  He had commanded it earlier (as had
          General George Marshall in 1933).

          After we were out in the channel, a storm came up. General
          Eisenhower decided to delay the invasion, set for June 5. As a
          result, we spent an uneasy night near the Isle of Wight. June
          6 dawned grey and windy.  As we neared the French coast, we
          found ourselves in the midst of a gigantic armada. Naval guns
          were firing, and we could see the smoke from the naval and
          air bombardment of the coast.

          We moved to a smaller landing craft for the run into the beach.
          I thought of the advice my father had given me when we last
          saw each other. Having seen terrible combat during World War
          I, he said, "John, you will be in great danger. You must be
          careful."

          My first letter after the landing was to my father but was
          undated.  When writing it, I was not aware that, as I went
          ashore in France, he was lying on a stretcher in an aircraft.
          Seriously ill, he was on his way from China to a hospital in
          India.

          Dear Dad,

          Am following your advice as closely as possible and finding
          it not too unsound. I suppose the first engagement is the
          hardest, at least I hope so. We ain't losing and let's hope we
          can keep Jerry on the run long enough to convince him he's
          licked.

          My best love to you, John

          Another letter went to my mother about this time. She was
          living at her family home in Philadelphia. I used the salutation
          "Dear Folks" to indicate that it could be shared with other
          family members.

          Dear Folks, June 15

          As I look back on the past days, it is with difficulty
          that I recall varying times and events, and it is impossible to
          tie the two together. Actually, it is more as a void, a nightmare
          I should prefer to forget.

          Oh, never fear for me, as my danger is no more or less than
          any other soldier, but many about me, as is inevitable in war,
          suffered. This has been one of the few times in my life that
          I have been able to completely forget myself and think
          actually of the welfare of others. It seldom occurs to me
          that it might have just as well been me. Now I can see that
          it could have been but wasn't.

          Yes, this makes a tale of heroic sacrifice of which Americans
          may well be proud. A group of men with little in the way of
          weapons and no protection other than the countryside has
          completely smashed the so-called West Wall, and don't think for
          a moment that it was not tough.

          If I get the time, in coming days I shall tell you what
          I can remember and am allowed of what happened. Just this
          short period could very easily fill a book. The development of
          the "green" troops into experienced fighting men is a marvel
          to behold. Poor soldiers became heroes, and some who seemed
          good proved inadequate.

          It is getting dark. Tomorrow brings another day and one
          day nearer the destruction of the enemy and the freedom of a
          continent.  May they and the American citizens prove worthy of
          these men's efforts and sacrifices.

          Love, John

          Dear Folks, June 16

          My lungs feel as though they are getting "fox-hole-itis."
          It is nothing at all really. Just the result of sleeping in a damp
          hole, eating an inadequate diet, and getting inadequate exercise.

          Do you know with whom I crossed the channel, or at least
          he was on our craft. It was Larry Lasueur, CBS correspondent.
          He was a pretty nice fellow and interesting to chat with.

          As I moved inland, some interesting things occurred. First
          of all, I was amazed by the few dead one noticed. There were
          hundreds of German prisoners on the beach, but few dead. The
          prisoners were frightened to death, thoroughly shaken up by
          our air and navy beach drenching. Going inland, our own
          walking wounded were already coming back.

          A German gun was firing on a bridge on the road. Col.
          Thomason and I stopped and asked a young Frenchman where
          it was. He said he knew. Would he lead us to it? Yes, he
          would. Then he took us to within 600 yards, pointed in a
          direction, and indicated he would go no further.  We never did
          find it. Col. Thomason later told me that a single parachutist
          happened across the gun, got the drop on them, and took them
          prisoner.

          These parachutists are rugged soldiers. They neither seek
          nor give quarter. But theirs was a difficult task and they did it
          efficiently.

          John


          THE FRENCH PEOPLE WE WERE ENCOUNTERING

          Dear Folks, June 17

          Perhaps you wonder what the French people we are running
          into are like. Well, it is easy to say what they look like, but as
          to how they think is another matter.

          The people we have seen are living in the most extreme
          poverty. Apparently all they have above the barest necessities
          have been taken from them by the German "master." The children
          have at best leather shoes long since worn out. Many young
          ones, and adults as well, wear wooden shoes, using straw to
          make them more comfortable.

          Clothing as such is unknown. All they have are rags. Dirty
          berets are the most common head dress for men. Women's
          dresses are torn and dirty. Now, mind you, these are people in
          small rural communities.  The towns we have seen are small,
          and when I went thru them there were no people. They evacuate
          the towns as we approach and then drift back thru the lines as
          the fighting passes on. As a matter of fact, it's amazing how
          close they will live to the fighting. Right now there are
          civilians within a thousand yards of where I am and a
          thousand yards further on are the front lines.

          The homes have practically no plumbing facilities, a pump,
          a well, and that's all. They are quite generous with what they
          have, but they have nothing. Our field rations they marvel at.

          Many of them offer us cider or wine. All wave at us as
          they pass us or we go by. But it's difficult to know just what
          they do think. If we could converse with them, it would help.
          Those who do say they are glad to see us, but some are
          dubious as to whether we can manage to stay. As this becomes
          more certain, no doubt they will feel better about it. Several
          nights after D-day, I talked to a French woman, who said that
          the Germans had killed her husband the night before - and for
          no apparent reason. This left her and her small daughter alone,
          as the war moved steadily on and away from her.

          Oh, yes, we can tell you now where we were in England.
          From Glasgow, where I landed, I went to Tiverton, Devon; after
          a short stay there, we were stationed in Axminster, Devon. That
          is where John and Rita Perry live. Their address is Mr. John
          Perry, Bank House, Axminster, Devon, England. While there I
          got to Torquay, Exeter, Braunton, Barnstaple, and many parts
          of Devonshire. There, now you know. Do write to the Perrys.

          Love - John

          On June 17, I sent home a single page mimeographed edition
          of The Stars and Stripes. It had a story with the headline
          Fourth Division Fights Nine Days Without Rest. It also reported
          that Gen. Eisenhower and King George VI had visited
          Normandy.

          On the back, I wrote,

          Dear Folks,

          Here's one of the most recent papers we have received here.
          The other day a regular Stars & Stripes came, giving the
          situation from D-day on. Believe me, where we are you know
          less of what is going on than you all who are thousands of
          miles away. However, this is improving as time goes on.

          Love, John


          THE ABORTIVE ATTACK ON MONTEBOURG

          Colonel Van Fleet organized a battalion size task force
          to attack Montebourg and placed it under the command of Lt.
          Col. Fred Steiner, his executive officer. (Utah Beach to
          Cherbourg, Historical Division, Department of the Army, 1947.)

          After establishing the beachhead, we paused while other
          units attacked west across the Cotentin Peninsula, to isolate
          the German forces defending Cherbourg. One day, Brig. Gen.
          Theodore Roosevelt visited the headquarters of the 8th
          Regiment. Knowing it would take time for our orders for the
          attack on Cherbourg to reach us, he explained what would be
          expected of the regiment.

          Toward the end of our pause, General Barton ordered Col. Van
          Fleet to take Montebourg, if he could do this without too many
          casualties.  When Van Fleet designated Steiner to command a
          task force, he commented that he wanted to be able to award
          him a Distinguished Service Cross.

          In a post combat interview, Steiner mentioned "the shortness of
          time for adequate planning." This was consistent with a
          comment to me by an officer before the attack that it would be
          a mess because of inadequate planning.

          Despite a heavy artillery bombardment, the task force ran into
          more resistance than it expected. After several attempts to enter
          the city, the attack was called off. When he returned to the
          command post, Steiner complained loudly about his failure,
          saying, "I wanted to go march, march, marching into Montebourg."
          Those of us watching him simulate marching listened to his dec-
          laration in embarrassed silence. Ironically, in his interview,
          he termed the operation a success. Furthermore, he got a DSC.

          A few days later, Col. Steiner was killed while accompanying
          Gen. Roosevelt on a tour of the front lines. During a recent
          transatlantic telephone conversation, Marcus O. Stevenson,
          Roosevelt's aide from North Africa to his death, gave me an
          account of what happened. In brief, a sniper started firing at
          them. The group did not take cover, and one of the bullets hit
          Steiner.


          RECOLLECTION: GUILT FEELINGS

          "The 8th Infantry attacked and captured the last strong point
          in its zone, one of the most heavily armed positions yet
          encountered." (Utah Beach to Cherbourg, Historical Division,
          Department of the Army, 1947, page 183.)

          Shortly before reaching Cherbourg, the 8th Regiment ran into
          a strong point. I suggested to Col. Van Fleet that instead of just
          using an artillery preparation, he ask the Air Force to have dive
          bombers attack it. As a result, on June 24 twelve P-47s
          dropped twenty-four five hundred pound bombs, all but one of
          which hit the target area.

          Nevertheless, the 2nd Battalion attack failed, with heavy
          casualties. In an after action interview, Lt. Col. Carlton O.
          MacNeely, the battalion commander, commented that the
          forward observer stopped the artillery prematurely.  As a result,
          the infantry began its charge too far from the strong point. The
          Germans simply came out of their dugouts after the
          bombardment was over and started firing.

          Later in the day, with the help of tanks, the battalion captured
          the strong point and took over sixty prisoners. While some of
          the guns had been destroyed by the air bombardment, most of
          them were intact.

          Dear Folks, June 25, 1944, Somewhere in France

          And here it is, D plus 19. Not many days to the observer,
          but to me it seems like an eternity - that is, to me and to
          thousands of others. However, we all have high hopes that this
          phase of the second front is not too far from termination.

          After a time, our warfare seems to settle into a bit more
          of a routine, but our living, eating, and sleeping habits are far
          from the best, and one soon finds himself just a little "groggy"
          and tired. And my task has been comparatively easy, so you
          may imagine how others feel. I'm usually at least a thousand
          yards from the front.  But it's those who make the front who
          really have it tough.

          We have learned much and no doubt in the future will take
          advantage of this experience. Let's hope we have learned our
          lessons well.

          I have received several of your small packages and am looking
          forward to a big one. You can use this as a request for another
          package.  There's nothing I particularly need just now, aside
          from an occasional box of "boodle." Mail is also one of the
          biggest lifts we get. We received our first letters about
          D plus 7, and was it welcome!

          A letter from dad. He seems to be having a rough time of
          it, but I'm quite sure should be all right in no time at all now.
          At least, that is the way he seemed to feel about it.

          My best love to all - John

          Dear Folks, June 27, 1944, Somewhere in France

          I promise at my first opportunity to sit down and write
          you a long letter, telling of my adventures these past few
          weeks, but just now the time is not available.

          Suffice to say that our first engagement has left me all in one
          piece and in excellent health.

          I am, for the time being anyway, once again quartered in a
          home, which is quite welcome.

          As the newspapers have told you, our division was one of
          the "firsts," one of the ones to assault the beach and establish
          the beachhead. And a damned good job they did at it, too. Our
          artillery battalion was the first ashore. I landed at 0800, with
          0630 being H-hour. Believe me, from then on until now, it was
          tough going. But more on some of the incidents later.

          Love, John


          FINALLY, A LONG LETTER ABUT D-DAY

          Dear Folks, June 28, 1944, Somewhere in France

          Each night we said, "The Luftwaffe is bound
          to strike tonight." But it didn't.

          The last night our sleep was far from satisfactory. On
          a rough sea, our LCT tossed about like a bottle. Four of us
          slept in a space large enough to hold two. We awoke shortly
          after midnight to hear the C-47s, which had carried the
          paratroopers, come over.  It was a beautiful sound - there must
          have been a thousand of them.

          After an inadequate breakfast of coffee and pancakes,
          we loaded on an LCM that came alongside the LCT. We then
          moved over to pick up some personnel from another craft. With
          the exception of an occasional splash caused by a coastal
          battery, there was little difference between this and the dozen
          practice landings I've been on.

          H-hour passed us while we were still far from shore. We
          couldn't even hear the terrific naval and air bombardment we
          knew was going on. But we knew that right then a death
          struggle was being waged on the beach, one which had to be
          won by the infantry, since they were the only ones ashore.

          Meanwhile, we cursed for the --th time the spray that
          came over the front end of the craft and soaked us to the skin.
          Capt.  Livingston and I pulled a blanket lying in the boat over
          us to ward the worst of the water off. How unimportant being
          wet was soon to become!

          At last our craft touched the beach. The ramp went down.
          Automatically we went off the side of the ramp and into the
          water up to our knees. We walked ashore (one doesn't run in
          surf). Aside from rifles and machine guns firing inland, all was
          quiet.

          There were surprisingly few dead on the beach. Just back
          of the sand dunes several hundred German prisoners huddled.
          Already hundreds of people were organizing the beach for the
          largest amphibious undertaking in history.

          We went about our work of getting the battalion in and into
          position, a task not without heartache.

          I saw my first German dead. He must have been killed while
          running. Even in death his body seemed to be trying to surge
          forward.  His helmet and uniform was all in place. He had been
          dead several hours. I could tell by the color of his skin. He was
          wearing glasses, still not broken.

          I remember self-consciously saying to someone, "Well,
          he won't bother anyone again." Now I wonder whether he ever
          wanted to bother anyone.

          Moving up the road, I came across an American soldier lying
          beside the road. He was wounded in one arm. With the other
          he was trying to hold a match box and strike a match. I leaned
          over and struck the match, lit the cigarette. He was hit pretty
          bad. Neither of us spoke a word. What could one say. I moved
          on.

          The rest of the day was a whirl of movement and activity.
          At last we got our unit off the bomb torn beach and away from
          constant shelling.

          For the rest of the day there are only momentary recollections:
          Tough paratroopers wandering about, killing German snipers.
          The medics who dropped, unarmed, with the paratroopers,
          shortly after midnight.  The sniper (we later learned he was 75
          yards from our command post) who shot at us all day without
          hitting anyone. He was killed by a paratrooper who happened
          across him. The French people in a small village ignoring the
          bodies about them and waving to us as we went by. This same
          village was held for twelve hours by four paratroopers.  That
          first night when all the men were nervous (trigger-happy) and
          shot at anything that moved. The dumbfounded glider pilot who
          had 200 Germans surrender to him, who asked me what in the
          h--- he should do with them. The thrill of watching the
          multitude of gliders come in and the multicolored supply
          parachute drops. And the dull thud of your heart when you
          watched the wounded and dead carried out of those gliders that
          crashed.

          These and a hundred other events made up D-day for me.

          Love, John


          TIME FOR MORE LETTER WRITING AFTER CHERBOURG

          Dear Dad, June 30, 1944, Somewhere in France

          Now that I have a brief period to catch up, I'm trying
          to write to everyone with whom I correspond. For one who
          didn't write letters or receive them in civilian life, this makes
          quite a correspondence.

          Received your letter of last month outlining your illness.
          From the length of time you expected to remain in bed, this
          letter aught to find you on the "well" side of the ledger. At least
          I sincerely hope so. All in the states seem quite eager that you
          get to return home. As long as you are ill, you might as well be
          home as in India. However, as much as all of us would like to
          return, we have to recognize that as long as there is work to be
          done here or in the Far East and we are able to do it, we shall
          have to push our feelings aside.

          Incidentally, I now feel quite recovered from the physical
          and mental strain of my first battle, as I'm beginning to worry
          about the next, wherever and whenever it may be. At least it
          won't be an amphibious operation. And it wouldn't make me
          unhappy if I never take part in another one of them, believe
          me. I can see now why the men in the First Division were
          "sweating out" this one - their third. It must be the most
          difficult operation an army can make - surely. An indication is
          the months of special training needed for the landing - a phase
          that is over in almost a twinkling of the eye.

          I can now tell you where I was stationed in England. It
          was at Axminster, Devon. Did you receive my letter mentioning
          that I had met and talked with Mr. Porter? His address is:
               Mr. A.W. Porter
               2 School Lane
               Rousdon, Devon, England
          This is the Porter you knew in Lashio.

          Love, John

          Dear Folks, July 4, 1944, Somewhere in France

          Today, just to celebrate independence day we loaded every
          gun - as did all battalions in the army - and fired them
          simultaneously at 1200. And the more I see of the treatment
          afforded the "conquered" people of France, the more I approve
          of independence. You simply have no idea of the mental and
          physical servitude to which these people have been subjected
          - I started to say reduced.

          Just now I heard what sounded to me like a Jerry airplane-
          by the irregular hum of the motor. Funny how we've gotten
          to where we assume any plane in the daytime is friendly.
          I've seen two German planes since I've been in France.

          Received your letter saying that dad was back in the states.
          I know we're all happy to hear that. It looks like we'll return in
          the order we left - dad, Bud, and myself. I do hope Bud gets
          home from the Pacific in pretty short order - he deserves it.

          I foolishly burned the letter that gave dad's address.
          Please send it again, and let him know where I am and that all
          is well with me. I'll enclose a note to him, which you can
          forward.

          Aunt Anne writes regularly, and I do enjoy her letters.
          Tell all the folks that if my answers are not prompt to believe
          that time is somewhat scarce. And when we get a rest -
          infrequently - it's hard to get around to all.

          Say - I haven't received a package since D-day. Somewhat
          disappointed - although I'm sure they're on the way.

          Love, John

          PS Mother, do send a picture of me to John and Rita, as
          they've requested it several times. And tell dad about my
          meeting Mr. Porter in England.


          RECOLLECTIONS: D-DAY NEARLY HALF A CENTURY LATER

          Although I was fairly candid in my letters about the
          landing, there were events which I failed to record. I am not
          sure why this was, since they are as clear in my mind as if
          they happened yesterday.

          As the landing craft took us into the beach, each of us was
          alone with his thoughts. We had no idea what we would run into
          when we reached the shore. Having spent many hours running
          in England, I planned to cover the distance between the water
          and the sand dunes as quickly as possible. As it turned out,
          we landed at high tide, and there was little beach to cross.

          Tommy broke into my thoughts with a nudge and motioned
          with his head toward the rear of the landing craft. There,
          sitting on a chair exposed to enemy fire was Col. Steiner, who
          announced that he wanted to have a full view of this historic
          event. The rest of us were happy to miss this and have the
          little protection provided by the thin metal of the landing craft.

          When we reached the shore, my job was to locate the positions
          for our three batteries, which had been selected from a map. I
          found it impossible, however, to orient myself. None of the
          landmarks I was looking for were there.

          An infantry officer soon informed me that the navy had landed
          us at the wrong place. After all that planning and preparation,
          the operation was turned over to a young naval officer, who
          landed the first wave to the south of where he was supposed
          to. As it turned out, this was fortunate, since we landed at a
          place which the Germans had not fortified very well. Luckily,
          General Roosevelt landed with the first wave and made the
          decision to go ahead, rather than confuse matters by trying to
          move the beach. He told us he had learned in North Africa and
          Sicily that such things can happened. Besides he considered
          the first wave the safest one to be on.

          His decision, however, left me with a problem. The Germans
          had inundated a large area in back of the beach, and the dry
          area was too narrow to hold all three of our batteries. When I
          went back to the beach to inform Tommy of this, he said,
          "John, it does not matter. B Battery hit a mine on the way in,
          and we now have only two batteries."

          I was so preoccupied with my tasks that the full implication of
          the destruction by a mine of B Battery, commanded by Capt.
          Vernon P. Burns, did not really sink in. A clearer picture only
          emerged recently when I talked about it with Ed Cissel, who
          was on another landing craft near the one carrying B Battery.
          After the explosion, the landing craft sank immediately, leaving
          dead and wounded in the water. As instructed, the other
          landing craft continued toward the shore, a painful experience
          for those who witnessed the explosion.

          An A Battery officer, 2nd Lt. L.C. Blanchard Jr., was killed not
          long after going ashore. A shy, likable person, he landed with
          the first wave as a forward observer and was torn apart by a
          shell.

          After the two remaining batteries were in place, Tommy
          suggested that he and I go forward and find the infantry. Until
          we knew where they were, we could do no firing. By that time,
          the clouds had cleared off, and the day became warm and
          sunny. As we walked across a field, a soldier ahead of us
          shouted, "Hey, you guys, you are in the middle of a mine field."
          We paused, and Tommy said, "Well, what do we do now?"

          We did not do what we should have, which was to have
          someone use a mine detector to sweep a path out to us. Instead,
          I suggested we separate, so if one of us hit a mine it would
          not kill both of us. It is impossible to describe one's
          feelings when walking through a mine field, but we were very
          happy to reach the other side.

          I subsequently learned that there were no mines in that field.
          The German troops had hung an Achtung Minen sign on a fence
          to impress a general who was inspecting the defenses in the
          area.

          In my letter home, I mentioned the gliders which landed later
          in the day. I failed, however, to convey adequately the horror
          with which I listened to the screams of pain when gliders
          crashed. Surrounded by earthen hedgerows, the fields on which
          the gliders had to land were very small. The pilots may also
          have been unnerved by German anti-aircraft fire. In any event,
          a number of the gliders hit hedgerows.  As I think about this,
          I can still hear the cries for help. The most appalling thing was
          that we had work to do and had to leave the first aid to the
          medics, who had their hands full and could not take care of all
          the wounded at once.

          The day gradually drew to a close, and I found myself in the
          dark in a farmyard near les Forges, just south of Ste. Mère
          Église.  Col. Van Fleet had located his headquarters there.
          When I left the bright light which illuminated the headquarters
          tent, I could not see but heard German voices all about me.
          Terrified at first, I tried to hide in the shadow of a barn. Then,
          as mentioned in a letter home, I learned that these were
          prisoners who had surrendered to a surprised glider pilot.

          Walking out to the road which led north toward Cherbourg, I
          watched colored tracer bullets arching into the sky. A soldier
          told me his unit was preparing for a possible German
          counterattack from the south.  By that time, I was too
          exhausted to care and lay down in a ditch beside the road and
          went to sleep, fortunately unaware of what the coming days
          would bring.


          * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
          *  THE PRICE: THE COST OF LANDING AND TAKING CHERBOURG    *
          *                                                         *
          *  The 4th Division left England with about 14,000 men.   *
          *  A month later, over a third of these were casualties,  *
          *  of which over 800 were dead. In thinking about these   *
          *  figures, you should keep in mind that most of the      *
          *  casualties were in the rifle companies, which made     *
          *  up about a third of the division strength.             *
          * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


          A DIGRESSION: COL. VAN FLEET'S PATIENCE IS REWARDED, AND
          HE SAVES THE DAY

          This is a digression but too good a story to omit. At the time
          of the landing, Col. Van Fleet was one of the oldest colonels in
          the army. Having graduated from West Point the same year as
          General Eisenhower, he had fallen badly behind.

          When General Eisenhower came ashore, he evidently wondered
          why his classmate had not advanced further. By the end of the
          war Col. Van Fleet was a Lieutenant General, commanding a
          corps. He subsequently took charge of the anti-communist
          struggle in Greece and commanded US forces in Korea. In the
          process, he got a fourth star.

          Many years after the war, I heard a story about why he had
          stranded on the colonel rank. General Marshall confused him
          with another officer and refused to promote him to brigadier
          general.  Finding this difficult to believe, I asked General Earle
          G. Wheeler, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, about this
          when I was working in the Pentagon. He confirmed it. So did
          John Eisenhower and Forest C. Pogue, Marshall's biographer,
          during a train ride from Paris to Normandy in 1984, where we
          were going to commemorate the fortieth anniversary of the
          landing.

          In his biography of Marshall, Pogue said, "Supposedly because
          of a mixup of Van Fleet with another officer who had a similar
          name and a drinking problem, Marshall had opposed the
          promotion at first, but once he learned of his mistake, Van
          Fleet rose rapidly."

          When reading the biography of David Selznick, I ran across
          another irony. When Selznick was producing The Longest Day,
          his board of directors threatened to end the project, because
          most of them felt it was costing too much. There was, however,
          one member of the board who insisted the project continue and
          persuaded the others to go along with him. This person was
          General Van Fleet.


            > Note: On July 6 the 4th moved into position for at-
            > tacking south in the hedgerows, but first a flashback
            > to our time in England.