JCSM Shareware Collection 1996 September

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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * CHAPTER 4: THE FINAL PREPARATION FOR D-DAY * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Once the battalion was settled in Axminster, it was time to turn to the purpose of our being there, to get ready for the invasion of the continent. We had amphibious training in the US, but this was only a sample of what awaited us. There were, however, still important matters to be worked out with the local community, such as who would do the officers' laundry. Since the Axminster laundry was already overtaxed, women in the village kindly agreed to take this task on. Thus, once the battalion arrived, my letters and diary dealt mainly with two subjects, life in Axminster and training for the invasion. Given the restrictions upon us, it was possible to say more about life in Axminster than the training. Diary, Axminster, Sunday, February 6, 1944 This is a quiet, little village of Axminster on a Sabbath day. Most of the officers and a great many of the men were inspired to go to church this morning. The officers' dining room is in the George Hotel, where is our battalion headquarters. The hotel has no guests, since it was requisitioned by the government some time ago. The dining room serves as our mess, the lounge as our club. The mess is in a large room furnished with antique furniture. Some of the pieces date back to the 16th century. It is lighted by gas, supplemented by candles. So impressive is the scene in the evening that we voted to have dinner in dress uniform, which makes a really beautiful picture. Diary, February 7, 1944 Tonight Mr. Perry, manager of one of the village banks, came over to our lounge just after dinner. It was about a welcome they are planning for the battalion. We chatted about it for some time, settling some of the questions which had arisen. We also talked about our two peoples. He said the townspeople have been frequently disappointed by the attitude of the hospital. It seems the men have failed to keep engagements for tea - and all too frequently. So much so that he fears the populous will not invite our men. He invited me to go over to his club for a game of "skittles." The game is similar to our bowling, except the pins are further apart and a heavy solid ball is used. The bowling club dates back over a hundred years. Although I dealt with a number of people in Axminster, the only ones with whom I became friends were the Perrys. John Perry was the manager of a bank across the street from the George Hotel. He and his wife Rita soon offered me and Lt. Bill Sydnor the hospitality of their home, which was to the rear of the bank. This began with tea and finally extended to our taking showers there in the middle of the night. Diary, February 12, 1944 Mr. Perry, with whom I am arranging some work with the city, took me by his home last Monday evening, when we were on our way to a game of skittles. As we were leaving the house, his wife said, "John, do go by the club and see what sort of trick they have planned for you. I'm consumed with curiosity." Then, as we walked along the street, Mr. Perry explained to me that the day our troops had arrived, his pet bantam, Belinda, had disappeared. He advertised on posters and such for her, but without results. This became quite a subject of gossip in the town, and now he felt the members of the Conservative Club were planning some joke on him. And they were. For when we went into the club we found a poem pinned on the bulletin board. Who pinched Belinda? We, said the Terrace Lodgers. I said the Yank - Now go and tell P.C. Rogers, From the back of a bank, We saw her die. I pinched Belinda. All the bantams in the town Who saw it done? Were so sad and said "nuffin" Not even the Yank's mate When they heard John's Belinda Who was watching the gate. Was filled up with "stuffin" No one saw it done. Moral - Never introduce your Who saw her die? "bird" to the Yanks! Mr. Perry was somewhat embarrassed at first, but when I got a hearty laugh out of it, things relaxed somewhat. For several days nothing more was heard of the incident. However, when over to the Perry's home the other evening, I saw this sign on the door: RIP The Admiralty regrets to announce that HMS BELINDA is now overdue and must be considered lost. A BRIEF VISIT TO LONDON, WITH UNEXPECTED CONSEQUENCES Dear Folks, February 17, 1944, Somewhere in England Just returned from my first trip to London. I went there Tuesday and returned Wednesday. Arriving there about 5:30 pm, I went to where Betty Baker, of the American Red Cross, works. She took me over to the Jules Club, where I got a room. We then went to the Strand Theatre, where we saw the English version of "Arsenic and Old Lace." It was really very good. Then we went to La Belle Muniere, a restaurant, for dinner. The next morning I walked about the city, just getting oriented. You, no doubt, have heard that London was badly bombed. Well, you can't imagine even what these people went thru unless you have seen some of the results. Love, John My letter home about my trip to London did not reflect its consequences. Tommy was stretching things to authorize it. I put it to him, however, as a reward for my hard work in getting ready for the battalion's arrival. Given this nudge, he agreed that I could go, on the condition I remain only one night. As luck would have it, when I was walking through Waterloo Station to catch my train back to Axminster, a familiar face loomed before me. It was Col. Richard S. Marr, Chief of Staff of the 4th Division, who had headed the advance party. Had I not been in this group, he would not have recognized me. As we passed, he nodded and said, "Good afternoon, Ausland." Tommy subsequently received a memorandum from Col. Marr, asking what I was doing in London. I do not remember what he replied, but nothing further came of it. The Betty Baker I refer to in my letter had been a Red Cross representative at the hospital near Axminster. For many officers in our unit, it became the center of much of their social life. I was very fond of a particular nurse but became impatient when she persistently broke dates with me. I only learned later in Germany from a doctor in another unit that this was because she found him more interesting than me. He did not take as literally as I had her plea that she wanted to remain faithful to her husband in the US. During my visits to the hospital I also got acquainted with officers from the 1st Division. Since they had seen combat in North Africa and Sicily, they were not looking forward to our landing on the continent. As luck would have it, they landed on Omaha Beach, where they ran into terrible German resistance and had heavy casualties. Diary, February 23, 1944 I am slightly aware of, within myself, a sincere hope that invasion will be unnecessary, that either the weight of the Russian forces or our air attacks will yet beat the German to his knees. Dear Father, February 28, 1944, Somewhere in England Thursday we had a USO show which featured James Cagney. He told a few gags, danced, and sang the hits from "Yankee Doodle Dandee." He stayed around town for about five days, eating all his meals at our battalion officers mess. After the show, to which we took John and Rita Perry, Bill Sydnor and I went over to their house. Love, John During one of our visits to the Perrys, five year old Anna presented Bill Sydnor with a bouquet of flowers she had picked in the garden. Since we were going somewhere else that evening, Bill was uncertain what to do with them. He ended up putting them behind a large vase on a table in the entry hall. The next time we went to the Perrys, Anna met us at the door, holding the flowers, now wilted. With a tear in her eye, she said, "Oh, Uncle Cinders, you are a naughty boy." ASSAULT TRAINING AND PRACTICE LANDINGS ON SLAPTON SANDS Diary, February 28, 1944 Today we made a motor march from Axminster, via Honiton, Exeter, Crediton, Barnstaple, and Bronston to the ATC (Assault Training Center). Diary, March 1, 1944 We witnessed today one of the most potent displays of fire power any of us have ever seen. It was by a 30 man assault section in an attack on a fortified beach position. All this was done with live ammunition. Only the closest coordination prevented the men from killing each other. A beautiful team, just what we need to hit the coast of France. Dear Dad, March 7, 1944, Somewhere in England Still we go on writing and still you fail to receive our letters. Being overseas is enabling me to save a little money. If enough stacks up, I should be able to finish college in none too bad style. Yes, in case you wonder, I still intend to go back to school when I get out of the army. However, I'm sorely tempted to spend a few years over here in between. Frankly, the people, their habits, and the country agree with me. The people, at least in our village, are quiet, easy going, and polite. Things are built solidly. There is little "hell raising" and a strong emphasis on "living." Love, John Diary, March 11, 1944, Braunton Camp, England Capt. Mercer, liaison officer with the 2d battalion, got hurt on a landing craft the other day. As a result, I am to be liaison in the forthcoming "hedgehog" exercise. We went through a dry run of it this morning. This afternoon another battalion went thru it, firing live ammunition. It was a good show. A group of our men gathered around the headquarters tent to watch it, so I made a little class out of it and explained the problem as it went along. Dear Folks, March 23, 1944, Somewhere in England Today was Rita's birthday - 32. Bill Sydnor and I went over to see her for a bit this evening. John dragged out a quart of port and we all drank her health. I was somewhat amazed at Rita's age, since one would take her certainly to be under thirty. Oh, yes, we bought some flowers for her. We sneaked into the house this afternoon and put them into a vase. When we came back this evening she had the room fairly decorated with them. Love, John Diary, March 26, 1944 As the time to invade the continent draws nearer, one can see everyone is getting tense. No one says much about the operation to come. Perhaps not many of them think much about it - at least realistically. Of course it is hard for those of us who have not seen combat to realize what it is really like. Therefore we seem not to know enough to be frightened. You feel an acute wish that certain parts of our training were more complete. But in the second breath express the opinion that as a whole we are pretty well prepared. Certainly morale is higher than ever before. Recent demonstrations of our coordination on problems has given everyone a fairly secure feeling. In all there is a sincere desire to get on with the job so as to bring it to an early successful conclusion. Let's hope we don't forget that a better world will only come if we create it. And that first we must reconstruct what we have destroyed. This was my last diary entry, because we got orders not to keep them and to surrender any we had for safekeeping until the war was over. To my surprise, the army kept its promise, and the diary showed up at my parents' home. Later, when I finally got around to opening the green box, there the diary was, waiting for me. It has been both interesting and informative to watch myself a half century later. The entries in the diary and my letters, however, only vaguely reflect the intensive training we went through during our months in England. We made a number of practice landings at Slapton Sands, a beach on the south coast of Devon similar to the one we would land on in France. Since I rarely get seasick, these operations were a lark for me. Others found them more unpleasant. After their landing craft hit the beach, they would crawl onto the sand and collapse, exhausted. During the final practice landing, Operation Tiger, we used live ammunition. This could have been fatal for a few of us. The landing craft I was on landed an hour early. After a brief discussion, we decided to remain on the beach and hope someone would see us before the firing began. To have moved inland could have been even more dangerous. As the first wave approached the beach, a fast boat sped up. An officer shouted through a megaphone, "Don't fire. Don't fire. There are personnel on the beach." Others were not so lucky. German torpedo boats attacked several of our landing craft, with the loss of over eight hundred men. In addition to this tragedy, there was concern for awhile that several of the officers who had been briefed on Overlord may have been captured. There have in recent years been press reports about the secret burial of a number of dead at Slapton Sands, in order to hide what had happened. What is more likely is that this incident was at the time simply handled with the usual wartime secrecy. In addition, given the failure to provide adequate protection for these vessels, the military had little reason to draw attention to what happened. PLANS FOR FUTURE, TROUBLE, AND A DISTINGUISHED VISITOR Dear Dad, April 8, 1944, Somewhere in England When the fighting is over, most of the others will be in a hurry to get home. If I feel as I do now, I'll try to stay on the continent or come back to England. There will be much work to be done after the war. Just being in the army has been an education. Being on the staff has been even more. The latter has demanded a thing I find extremely difficult, being diplomatic. My superiors all find my work thorough and exact, but I know they often wish I would act with more tact. Come the invasion, we shall turn in our best solution and hope it is good enough. And I hope that we shall be wise enough to make unnecessary any repetition of this calamity during our lifetimes. We must look beyond our frontiers and realize that we are our brother's keeper and that to forget that is to invite disaster. Love, John Dear Folks, Easter Sunday, Somewhere in England After the Easter service I went over to our dining room at the hotel. There I found Betty Baker, of the Red Cross, a friend of mine who used to be at the hospital but is now in London. She was down for the weekend. We had dinner and talked for several hours. She is secretary to the man who will head civilian war relief on the continent. Thus, she had some interesting things to say. At mid-afternoon Bill Sydnor and I bicycled eight miles to a nearby town. We loafed around for awhile and peddled back, to arrive just in time for dinner. All in all, it was a very pleasant day. My love, John Dear Folks, April 11, 1944, Somewhere in England Well, things can't always run smoothly. A couple of the battery commanders are unhappy with me.... Love, John I do not recall why one of the battery commanders was unhappy with me but remember all too well why the other was. Captain Vernon P. (Junie) Burns was the senior battery commander. I was not aware of this when assigning buildings to the batteries and did not give him the best. He made it clear to me that he resented this. In addition, I was unsure of myself in my role as a staff officer and was sometimes officious in dealing with the battery commanders, who were senior to me. Shortly before the invasion, Burns gave me hell and said, "I am declaring war on you." I was not sure what he meant by this and never found out, since his landing craft hit a mine on the way in to the beach. Several years ago, I saw Burns again at a 4th Division reunion and reminded him of this episode. His reply was, "Did I say that? Well, we were all nervous about the coming invasion." A short time ago, I learned that he had died. Dear Folks, April 12, 1944 We had a "distinguished visitor" today, who was making a tour of the units in the division. We had batteries scattered all over taking various types of training so he could see us. My first camouflage demonstration was from 0830 to 0915. When it was over, the troops left. Ten minutes later the VIP (very important person) arrived. Later I learned that I should have kept the troops there until he arrived. But since no one told me this, or when he was to arrive, I scarcely could get excited. Nevertheless, he made some comments on camouflage, we talked very briefly and he moved on. Tonight we went to a nearby town to hear a talk by this same individual. Quite interesting. All my love, John In retrospect, the casualness in my letter seems strained. The VIP was General Omar Bradley, who would command US forces on Operation Overlord. In addition to visiting units in the field, so the enlisted men could see him, he addressed all the officers from the assault divisions at a meeting in Exeter. This was risky, for one German bomb could have delayed the invasion several years. During his speech, General Bradley commented that we were indeed fortunate, since we would have a front row seat on the greatest amphibious operation in history. At first, there was silence. Then, someone began to laugh, and a nervous roar of laughter swept over the room. General Bradley looked puzzled and then went on with his speech. A professional soldier, he simply did not understand that we civilians were less enthusiastic about war than he was. PREOCCUPIED WITH MYSELF, I DID NOT TAKE MY FATHER'S ILLNESS SUFFICIENT SERIOUSLY Dear Folks, Undated letter Bill Sydnor tells a funny one. One day he was forward on a problem, observing. From the gun position they asked for his location. He sent them the coordinates over the telephone. Finally he had repeated them three times. "Hey, what's the matter down there. Can't you understand English?" "Yes, but I don't have a pencil and am writing the numbers in the sand. It's a slow job." My best love, John Dear Folks, April 13, 1944, Somewhere in England Visited Rita Perry, who is ill. She was stretched out on the couch. I took her wrist and said, "Well, how is your pulse this evening?" "Getting faster now no doubt," she replied. Love, John Dear Folks, April 20, 1944 While in Tiverton, I went out to Margo Southey's house and visited with her for an hour. She is being checked by her doctor for a possible appendectomy, consequently she is not working. She is looking quite well - and I might add very beautiful in her civilian clothes. All my love to you, John Dear Folks, May 1, 1944, Somewhere in England While in a bivouac area not too long ago I met some very interesting people. Our C.P. (command post) was located on the lawn of a large country estate. The owner was Col. Wellesly, former commander of the Duke of Wellington Regiment, and one of the Iron Duke's descendants. I had tea with him and his wife, and we had a very nice chat. Neither had been to America and were quite curious about it and what we thought. He was a loquacious old devil but very pleasant. She was quite sincere and said that she wished I could stay and talk longer. By the by, here's something I've long intended to tell you. If, by some ill fate, I'm ever captured, the best thing you can send me is food parcels thru the Red Cross. They could tell you at the proper time. Also, send me lots of cigarettes. I won't smoke them, but they will buy a lot of favors in the prison. About two or three cartons a week would do a lot of good. You can remember that, just in case. All my love, John Dear Dad, May 3, 1944, Somewhere in England You'll never guess whom I've met here in England. It was Mr. A.W. Porter, your superintendent friend from Lashio. It was thru a friend of mine here, Mr. John Perry, manager of a local bank. I spent the afternoon with him, talking to him, his wife, and son - and having tea. After leaving Lashio, he made his way north and thence over to Calcutta. He was in charge of several thousand women and children evacuees, many of whom died on the trek. My best, John Dear Dad, May 9, 1944 A four motored bomber? Don't your planes have anything better to do over there than carrying gold-bricking majors around? Mother says though that you are getting somewhat better. Hope you recover as soon as possible. Glad to hear that Bud has been brought to civilization again. He certainly deserves it after such a long tour in the South Pacific. Love, John THE WEEKS BEFORE OUR DEPARTURE FOR THE CONTINENT Dear Folks, May 14, 1944, Somewhere in England The favorite English joke right now is that "Americans are overfed, overpaid, overdressed, oversexed, and over here." My love, John As one might expect, the reaction of the average Englishman to having so many soldiers dropped on them was mixed. They were glad to have our help in defeating the Nazis, but they would be glad to see us move on to France. (None of us could have anticipated at the time that England would remain a gigantic base, from which a number of military operations would be launched, for the next half century.) Although the English are good at hiding their feelings, occasionally they crept out. Margo Southy wounded me by commenting that the main reason they disliked us was because we were so arrogant. A barber put it more humorously. "Yes, as Winnie said, you send us the tools and we'll do the job. You know what the tools are, don't you? Well, sonny, you're one of them." On the whole, however, the people with whom I came in contact could not have been more kind and helpful. As the time for our departure came nearer, John Perry said to me, "John, I know that one of these days you will be leaving, and you will not be able to tell us. I want, therefore, to tell you how much we have enjoyed knowing you and to say goodbye." He was right in saying that we would leave without telling anyone. In fact, I had a date with Rita to take her to the movies the night we left Axminster. After the war was over, I visited the Perrys several times. After John's death, Rita and I have continued to exchange Christmas cards, and I visited her in 1992 during a visit to Devon. I have also kept in touch with their daughters, Anna and Suzy, who now live in London. Dear Folks, May 22, 1944 You ask if I'd heard from Bud since he left Tarawa. Yes, several letters. We had a rather unfortunate thing happen to us recently. Maj. Springer, battalion second in command, was in an auto accident and broke an arm. Lt. Ed Cissel, a very good friend of mine, will return to the battalion now from division artillery. All my love, John This letter would have been written from the assembly area to which we moved shortly before boarding our landing craft. The loss of George Springer was an untimely blow to the battalion. He wept at the prospect of not making the landing for which he had trained so long. George was an excellent officer. Out of respect for his advanced age (he was in his thirties), we called him "Pappy." He did not return to the battalion. We saw him again at a reunion in Augusta, Georgia in 1980, when many officers and men from the 29th Field Artillery Battalion attended a 4th Division reunion. In 1992, I received word from his niece that George had died. I was among those few officers in the battalion who were briefed on Operation Overlord while we were still in Axminster. Before going into the briefing room to learn about the invasion plans, Tommy suggested we each try to guess where it would be. I do not remember what my guess was, but it was wrong. Shortly after this, Tommy asked me to take a driver and an armed guard and go to division headquarters at Tiverton to pick up a copy of the operational plan. There were also maps and foam rubber models of the beach area. Before I departed with these, an officer instructed me that I should under no circumstances let anyone get control of them. He also gave me several incendiary grenades. If anyone tried to stop us and take the plans, we were to shoot first and ask questions later. Happily, no one tried to stop us, and I breathed more easily when we got back to Axminster. After we got to our assembly area, where security was complete, we briefed everyone in the battalion on the operational plan. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Finally, June 4 arrived, and we boarded trucks to take us to the landing craft in the River Dart. In order to get to them, we had to cross the river on a ferry. As we boarded the ferry, an Englishman was counting us. Always curious, I asked him why he was doing this. "Because, son, we are going to charge a shilling for each of you, against Lend Lease." Thus having a front row seat on the greatest amphibi- ous operation in history was not entirely free.