On terra firma once more, we immediately were confronted by children of all forms and shapes yelling that famous welcome call heard round the world: "Heh, Johnnie, cigarettes, shokolot, bon bon". We walked the length of the pier, on which was erected a long wall built in 1940 to honor those Frenchmen who had lost their lives when the British Air Force attacked the French Navy in the harbor of Oran. It was difficult for the French people to forget that action. In fact, their good memory made it tougher for the first wave to invade Oran. In error, an Allied battleship, which was flying the British flag instead of an American one, was fired upon, and 800 American boys on board lost their lives. The American cemetery in Oran tells a more picturesque story.
We walked the length of Mers-el-Kebir to Oran, five miles away, and then another ten miles to our bivouac area. The fatigue of the hike was forgotten when we had an opportunity to observe the ways and actions of these so-called "uncivilized" people from Africa. To our surprise and amazement, many of them had civilized habits and word civilized and conventional modes of dress. The women wore attractive print dresses and small hats which were the vogue in New York the previous spring. The men's suits caught many a G.I. eye as they passed by. It was here that we first saw that famous Arab with a spotlessly clean towel wrapped around his head in turban fashion and a snow-white sheet around his body. His undergarments and body, however, seemed as if they hadn't been washed since the last war.
Between Mers-el-Kebir and Oran stands an engineering accomplishment of which Americans could well be proud, a tunnel through the mountains which reminds the New Yorker of the Holland Tunnel. Our bivouac area was a former Arab farm, full of broken glass and chinaware. Needless to says, we policed the area, a habit which the native population could not understand. Perhaps they thought that we were trying to look for something. But, they know that we could never find anything of value in Africa.
After two good days of fair weather, we were introduced to the African rainy season which was not mentioned in the booklet we had received on the boat. It rained continuously for one whole week, during which we improved on the Army system of tent-pitching and drainage. When we dried off, we visited the town of Oran, then just changing over from the German to the American way of doing business, namely, taking articles rather than paying for them. The Arabs, however, also had "taking" ways. From early childhood, they had been taught to steal. In fact, we had quite a time with them at the American cemetery in Oran. A guard had to be stationed there day and night to prevent the Arabs from stealing the blankets which were wrapped around the dead. One evening, the commanding officer of the guard gave orders to shoot anyone who was seen prowling around the cemetery at night. The next morning, 18 Arabs were found dead in the cemetery. The Arabs understood that language. The guards were never bothered again.
Hotel Continental was the main exclusive eating place in Oran where an excellent meal could be purchased for one dollar. Hot showers were available for 20 cents only after waiting in line for three hours. It was difficult to purchase any goods in town as we soon realized that the Germans had been there and had taken everything with them. This was Oran during the early days of the North African campaign.
Later in the year, we moved to an Arab town five miles southeast of Oran, Tafaruie, which was situated near La Senia airport, the first large airfield taken by the Americans after they captured Oran. It was at this airport where Germans had armed their French prisoners before they fled and instructed them to resist the Americans. Instead, the French soldiers shot their former captors as they attempted to leave the field. Rain and more rain made it necessary for us to perfect a better drainage and rainproof tent system than the army had taught us. The various experiments which we attempted during these early days served us in good stead when the rainy season arrived the following month. It was here where American airpower began to have itself felt on the enemy. Day and night, formations of bombers and fighters continually filled the skies, a fact which bolstered our morale to a very great extent.
The greatest morale-builder of them all, mail from home, began to arrive late in December and once more we had contact with "the outside world". Christmas was slowly approaching and as a Yuletide gift, we were permitted to send a letter home which was guaranteed to arrive in New York before Christmas Day. It actually arrived on January 19th, one week after our cable which we sent in November. Those were the days when communication facilities were at a premium.
One of the more pleasant memories of Africa was the picturesque scene of the setting sun descending over a nearby hill, with an occasional Arab silhouetted against the sky sitting on and kicking his donkey, and with the moon and stars brilliantly shining in the other part of the sky. It reminded me of the Christmas cars with the Star of Bethlehem in the distance.
Christmas Day found us perched between an ancient Arab and a modern French town near the Moroccan border, the latter famous as a resort during peacetime. Its official name was Tlemcen. The Arab village was called Saf Saf. We were treated most cordially by its citizens who supplied us with the French version of "short snorts". This area was characterized by its mud, rain and snow. It rained without a break for seventeen days, and then it snowed before the sun came out some time in January. It was a strange sensation for many a G.I., who had been training under a hot Florida sun for over a year, to dig himself out of a pup-tent which was completely covered with snow. During this time, however, these were no cases of illness among the men, a most amazing condition. We were convinced that the injections which we had received had a great deal to do with the health of the troops during these miserable days. Most of the day (and night) was spent bailing out the trenches around our tents as the heavy rains were more than enough for the drainage systems which we thought originally to be sufficient. Between the bailing out periods, we built stone walks, dug latrines through solid rock, built roads, pitched ward tents and tried to peg them into solid stone, a project which was not very successful.
New Year's Eve was spent in our pup-tents huddled under six blankets, several sets of underwear, uniforms and overcoats, thinking of the days when a New Year's Eve party was an event rather than a memory. Originally set up (we thought) to handle casualties in the event of a German surprise attach through Spain and into Africa, we had very little work to do and, for the time being, we were "sweating out" a call to the front. This "sweating out" period ended when, in early January 1943, we were ordered to tear down and crate for our trip into the theater of operations. This was accomplished during another rainy spell, after which time, for two weeks of very beautiful weather, we waited for our transportation to arrive.
The American Army had met resistance for the first time and we realized that we would have a difficult job to wrest the remainder of Africa from the enemy. Although we knew that the future was going to be difficult and dangerous, there was no one who did not look forward to that memorable trip to the front. Our spirits were high and our morale excellent. The Ninth Evac was ready.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
The Lights Go On Again In Oran
On the morning of November 10th, we arrived in Newport, Wales, where, tied to the dock was a former New Zealand freighter, the Rangtiki. The morning newspapers, for the first time, told of the landings of the Allied forces in Africa. We then realized that we were destined for the "dark continent". We were assigned to the "royal suite" on the boat, the hold in the front part of the ship. This was a choice location from the sightseeing point of view, but whenever a wave hit the ship, we recieved a cold salt water shower. In spite of this and other disadvantages, conditions aboard ship were far better than those on the Marnix. The food was fairly good, show was served on plates, and hot soup was on the menu every day. In addition, we were permitted to purchase various edibles from the PX, a situation which made us wonder why this food was not served during the regular meals.
We were, as far as we could ascertain, the back end of that now-famous 850 ship convoy which made the original landings in Africa, coming in on the third wave of the four wave convoy. The trip was highlighted, in addition to the usual card and crap games on board, by an amateur show featuring the talents of the Army Medical and Air Corps. We learned that the cream of the crop of the American war correspondents were on board, namely, Ernie Pyle of the Scripps-Howard Newspapers, Gault MacGowan of the New York Sun, and many others. This trip, as well as the entire North African campaign was described by all the correspondents in their daily columns, and was mentioned in Pyle's later book, "Here Is Your War." One of the most picturesque sights we had the pleasure of observing was a double rainbow which surrounded the whole convoy like a frame around a picture.
The day before we passed through the Straits of Gibraltar was a hectic one in the annals of the German submarine service. The German Navy announced that it was waiting for the rest of the convoy which was expected to come through the Straits that night. Thankful for the information, we sailed out into the Atlantic again and waited one full day for the Allied air forces to take care of the subs. The next day, an allied communique announced the sinking of 23 subs off Gibraltar. We then passed through the Straits of Gibraltar very confident but ignorant of the fact that a torpedo passed in front of the ship and missed it by only a few feet. The following morning, the crew told us of the concussion caused by the torpedo which resulted in throwing them from their hammocks. For the first time since we left the states, we saw that night, a city which was not blacked out -- Tangier -- all lit up like a Christmas tree.
On board ship, we were given an introdcution to what we could expect when we landed. A booklet called "A Soldier's Guide to North Africa" was issued to us, and it described out future surroundings, its people and their customs and habits. We later realized that the author of the booklet must have had a bad nightmare while writing the article, as future events didn't quite bear him out. Such bits o advice as "Eat only part of the first course", "Never smoke or spit in front of a mosque", "Don't offer Muslims any meat", "Don't look at native women", "It never rains in Africa", and many others, made interesting reading but never proved practical. We also were issued such summer necessities as mosquito cream, sun and dust glasses, and water sterilizers as a precaution against the disease and filth characteristic of the dark continent. These later proved slightly more useful than the booklet.
On the evening of November 21st, we sailed into the harbor of Mers-el-Kebir, a natural water base situated five miles from Oran. Oran itself could be seen from the boat, the lights in the city once again reminding us that we still had many more lights to rekindle before we would complete our mission. The following morning, we set foot upon the continent of Africa, happy to be part of the invading forces which were to drive the Axis from Africa.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
There Will Always Be An England (Part II)
Although synonymous with wartime England, total blackouts were unusual to us "sophisticated" Americans. At first it was strange for us to walk along the streets at night or to ride on a blacked-out bus but in time we got used to the idea. In fact, many of the boys found the blackout quite advantageous.
We were very much impressed by the British people, particularly their women. Although the strain of war had an effect on their facial expressions and outward appearances, and their clothes weren't exactly "this year's style", their spirit was high and their morale excellent. That famous pride of the English people, exemplifying Churchill's "blood, sweat and tears", immediately earned our respect for these brave people who had refused to give up when they had their backs up against the wall. I often wondered how the American people would have reacted under the same series of circumstances. Although, during our first few days in Oxford, these people appeared cold and unfriendly, we began to realize that that was part of their physical makeup. However, after a few weeks, they warmed up to us and, as time went on, they became most hospitable and treated us royally. We, at least, had made a very good impression on them.
The morals of the English girls, just like all the others with whom we met before and since, were very low. Perhaps they were swept off their feet by the fast-talking and faster-moving Americans, or it might be that they felt that they were doing their part in the war by being "nice" to the soldiers. Whatever were their reasons, they surprised even the American boys by their loose morals. A story is told concerning an American soldier stationed with the British Eighth Army who also spent some time in England before being sent to Africa. He was bragging to his English buddies one day, about how much he got out of a certain married woman with whom he was very friendly, a Mrs.. John Wells. After recounting his love affairs with this woman, during which he described his "intimate relations" with her, a shot rang out and the American dropped with a bullet through his head. A moment later, John Wells killed himself with a bullet from the same gun.
In spite of these unfortunate incidents, there were other friendships established. Some of the boys were fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of several fine people in town and a few were invited to a get-together consisting of "nice English girls" and American soldiers at Rhodes House, Oxford University. Several were later invited to a Halloween party given by a group of girls of one of the colleges and long and lasting friendships were started which were continued by correspondence for many years thereafter. It was interesting to note at the time that, in spite of the hardships and sacrifices that the people evidently were making for their country, the theatres and the movie houses always were filled, and long lines (queues) of patient customers waited for hours before every performance. Men and women in uniform, however, especially Americans, were given preference over civilians.
The English newspapers are quite different from ours in that the headline consists of one or two words and quite often has no connection with the particular story which appears under it. Stories of local color rather than of international interest cover the front pages. Editorials and commentaries seem to occupy as much space as do the daily news events.
A one-day pass to London enabled us to see the interesting and historical highlights of the city -- St. Paul's Cathedral, The House of Commons, the Palace, London Bridge, Piccadilly Circus, the "underground", etc. Of course we viewed the areas which had been bombed during the trying days of 1940. The British people, however, were rebuilding for a bigger and better England, and plans were being formulated at that time to build a new city of London after the war. The London "underground" was much more comfortable than the New York subways in that the seats were made of plush, mirrors for the convenience of passengers were appropriately placed in conspicuous corners, and the general appearance of each car made for a more social atmosphere among the passengers. And even though the subways always were crowded, there was never the "rush" scenes which are characteristic of New York.
The British Eighth Army early in October stopped the German advance across Africa and began an offensive of their own which was to take them all the way across North Africa and into Europe. The newspaper headlines screamed "Rommel Pushed Back" and "We Attack", and the English people began to smile.
There were no enemy raids on Oxford and it was explained by the townspeople that an agreement had been made with Germany whereby neither country would bomb each others university towns. This, however, did not refrain from bombing such cities as Coventry, Swindon and Canterbury. We did see great numbers of Allied Planes pass overhead quite often and we knew that some axis city was going to be "visited". The newspapers the next day usually completed the story -- "Milan Bombed" or "Turin Wrecked".
That was England during the period between "blood, sweat and tears" and "all-out offensive". On November 8th, the day of the initial landings on African shores by the allied armies, we were ordered to pack, and the next evening, we were on our way from Slade Camp and Oxford, sorry to leave the friendly confines of our British cousins, for whom, in the short space of five weeks, we acquired a great respect and admiration.
We were very much impressed by the British people, particularly their women. Although the strain of war had an effect on their facial expressions and outward appearances, and their clothes weren't exactly "this year's style", their spirit was high and their morale excellent. That famous pride of the English people, exemplifying Churchill's "blood, sweat and tears", immediately earned our respect for these brave people who had refused to give up when they had their backs up against the wall. I often wondered how the American people would have reacted under the same series of circumstances. Although, during our first few days in Oxford, these people appeared cold and unfriendly, we began to realize that that was part of their physical makeup. However, after a few weeks, they warmed up to us and, as time went on, they became most hospitable and treated us royally. We, at least, had made a very good impression on them.
The morals of the English girls, just like all the others with whom we met before and since, were very low. Perhaps they were swept off their feet by the fast-talking and faster-moving Americans, or it might be that they felt that they were doing their part in the war by being "nice" to the soldiers. Whatever were their reasons, they surprised even the American boys by their loose morals. A story is told concerning an American soldier stationed with the British Eighth Army who also spent some time in England before being sent to Africa. He was bragging to his English buddies one day, about how much he got out of a certain married woman with whom he was very friendly, a Mrs.. John Wells. After recounting his love affairs with this woman, during which he described his "intimate relations" with her, a shot rang out and the American dropped with a bullet through his head. A moment later, John Wells killed himself with a bullet from the same gun.
In spite of these unfortunate incidents, there were other friendships established. Some of the boys were fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of several fine people in town and a few were invited to a get-together consisting of "nice English girls" and American soldiers at Rhodes House, Oxford University. Several were later invited to a Halloween party given by a group of girls of one of the colleges and long and lasting friendships were started which were continued by correspondence for many years thereafter. It was interesting to note at the time that, in spite of the hardships and sacrifices that the people evidently were making for their country, the theatres and the movie houses always were filled, and long lines (queues) of patient customers waited for hours before every performance. Men and women in uniform, however, especially Americans, were given preference over civilians.
The English newspapers are quite different from ours in that the headline consists of one or two words and quite often has no connection with the particular story which appears under it. Stories of local color rather than of international interest cover the front pages. Editorials and commentaries seem to occupy as much space as do the daily news events.
A one-day pass to London enabled us to see the interesting and historical highlights of the city -- St. Paul's Cathedral, The House of Commons, the Palace, London Bridge, Piccadilly Circus, the "underground", etc. Of course we viewed the areas which had been bombed during the trying days of 1940. The British people, however, were rebuilding for a bigger and better England, and plans were being formulated at that time to build a new city of London after the war. The London "underground" was much more comfortable than the New York subways in that the seats were made of plush, mirrors for the convenience of passengers were appropriately placed in conspicuous corners, and the general appearance of each car made for a more social atmosphere among the passengers. And even though the subways always were crowded, there was never the "rush" scenes which are characteristic of New York.
The British Eighth Army early in October stopped the German advance across Africa and began an offensive of their own which was to take them all the way across North Africa and into Europe. The newspaper headlines screamed "Rommel Pushed Back" and "We Attack", and the English people began to smile.
There were no enemy raids on Oxford and it was explained by the townspeople that an agreement had been made with Germany whereby neither country would bomb each others university towns. This, however, did not refrain from bombing such cities as Coventry, Swindon and Canterbury. We did see great numbers of Allied Planes pass overhead quite often and we knew that some axis city was going to be "visited". The newspapers the next day usually completed the story -- "Milan Bombed" or "Turin Wrecked".
That was England during the period between "blood, sweat and tears" and "all-out offensive". On November 8th, the day of the initial landings on African shores by the allied armies, we were ordered to pack, and the next evening, we were on our way from Slade Camp and Oxford, sorry to leave the friendly confines of our British cousins, for whom, in the short space of five weeks, we acquired a great respect and admiration.
Monday, September 26, 2011
There Will Always Be An England! (Part 1)
Our feet once again on terra firma, we felt much relieved. The railroad station from which we left was conveniently situated next to the dock. While waiting for our train to arrive, we were given an opportunity to observe the English railroads in action. Their freight cars do not seem much smaller than ours, but actually theirs have a capacity of only 25% of the American cars – 10 tons. The English passenger cars are quite unusual, being divided into small rooms called compartments, each compartment seating eight passengers. At one side of the compartment is a door leading to a long hallway which extends the whole length of the car. On the other side of the compartment is an exit door which opens from the outside. This is a much more comfortable mode of travel than that of the American passenger coach as it is conducive to more sociability among the passengers.
We were warned to keep the lights out in the compartment and to refrain from throwing cigarettes out of the windows. However, to our surprise, we noticed that the fire from the locomotive completely lit up the surrounding country as the train sped across the countryside. We made our first stop just over the border separating Scotland from England where we were initiated into the English custom of taking time out for “a spot of tea”, a habit which we never willingly adopted. Every time the train came to a halt, we attempted to ascertain from the people outside our exact whereabouts but to our regret, we never received any satisfactory answer. The English people realized only too well that “idle gossip sinks ships”. At 8 A.M. on October 8th, we arrived in Oxford station convinced that we were quite fortunate to be given the opportunity to visit that famous University town. Driven by bus through the city and to Slade Camp, we arrived in the usual English mist, fog and rain just in time to eat the British soldier’s breakfast consisting of salt pork, potatoes, oatmeal, rye bread and of course, tea.
Slade Camp was an English staging area and training camp, housing about fifty one-room barracks, each containing fifteen wooden beds, straw mattresses and pillows, a coal stove in the middle of the room (which usually emitted more smoke than heat), no running water facilities, a separate room for non-commissioned officers, dim lights and wooden shutters which acted as a substitute for blackout curtains. One of the brighter features of the camp was their version of our PX, a combination tea room, snack bar, theatre and night club called NAAFI (Navy, Army, Air Force Institute), which sold refreshments to the soldiers at very nominal prices (Tea: 2 cents. Cookies: 4 cents. Sandwiches: 6 cents). This feature proved more appealing when we learned that several attractive young ladies were employed there as waitresses. Travelling vaudeville shows and local talent performed weekly and dances were held for us and the boys of the 29th Division who, twenty months later, contributed to make the original invasion of France a success.
Calisthenics and hikes were the daily activities, but due to the compensatory amusement which we later found during the evenings, there was a usual paucity of complaints during our stay in Slade Camp. In fact, the “unusual” among army men occurred when we actually looked forward to our daily hikes. Perhaps, the reason why we enjoyed them so much was the fact that they were conducted over the suburban hills and dales of Oxford, most of which were owned by the University of Oxford and which were used in peacetime as “Lovers’ Lanes”. The contrast between the English countryside during time of war, with 30-ton tanks roaming the hills and Spitfires and gliders filling the sky, and the same picturesque scenes which we imagined typical of peacetime England, will forever remain in our memories.
At first, it was difficult to adjust our financial dealings to the English monetary system. The pound was fixed at four dollars in American money, the shilling at 20 cents and the penny at six for ten cents. Since the banks could get $4.02 for each pound, they made a slight profit on the exchange in the New York money market.
After setting up our barracks, we were given an opportunity to visit Oxford, which we did post haste. A bus terminal was located just outside the camp, about a fifteen minute walk from our barracks. It took only fifteen minutes to reach the center of town, Carfax, a busily-trafficked, well-populated business and entertainment district. Larger than most American towns, Oxford looks exactly like and English city an American would expect to find after reading about the English people and their country. Dotted with many movie and show houses (cinemas), stores, banks and business offices, Oxford was still “open for business” for the college student. The English rations which we received weren’t sufficient for our tremendous appetites, so every evening we went to town and consumed an additional supper, which also was insufficient. The English people were sacrificing and tightening their belts for the boys who were fighting on foreign lands. The English bars, called “pubs”, unlike our own, catered to the family trade and it wasn’t uncommon on a Saturday night for whole families to spend the entire evening sipping a few scotches and talking with the American soldiers. As a matter of fact, it was in the pubs that the Americans got to learn a great deal about the English, and vice versa.
We were warned to keep the lights out in the compartment and to refrain from throwing cigarettes out of the windows. However, to our surprise, we noticed that the fire from the locomotive completely lit up the surrounding country as the train sped across the countryside. We made our first stop just over the border separating Scotland from England where we were initiated into the English custom of taking time out for “a spot of tea”, a habit which we never willingly adopted. Every time the train came to a halt, we attempted to ascertain from the people outside our exact whereabouts but to our regret, we never received any satisfactory answer. The English people realized only too well that “idle gossip sinks ships”. At 8 A.M. on October 8th, we arrived in Oxford station convinced that we were quite fortunate to be given the opportunity to visit that famous University town. Driven by bus through the city and to Slade Camp, we arrived in the usual English mist, fog and rain just in time to eat the British soldier’s breakfast consisting of salt pork, potatoes, oatmeal, rye bread and of course, tea.
Slade Camp was an English staging area and training camp, housing about fifty one-room barracks, each containing fifteen wooden beds, straw mattresses and pillows, a coal stove in the middle of the room (which usually emitted more smoke than heat), no running water facilities, a separate room for non-commissioned officers, dim lights and wooden shutters which acted as a substitute for blackout curtains. One of the brighter features of the camp was their version of our PX, a combination tea room, snack bar, theatre and night club called NAAFI (Navy, Army, Air Force Institute), which sold refreshments to the soldiers at very nominal prices (Tea: 2 cents. Cookies: 4 cents. Sandwiches: 6 cents). This feature proved more appealing when we learned that several attractive young ladies were employed there as waitresses. Travelling vaudeville shows and local talent performed weekly and dances were held for us and the boys of the 29th Division who, twenty months later, contributed to make the original invasion of France a success.
Calisthenics and hikes were the daily activities, but due to the compensatory amusement which we later found during the evenings, there was a usual paucity of complaints during our stay in Slade Camp. In fact, the “unusual” among army men occurred when we actually looked forward to our daily hikes. Perhaps, the reason why we enjoyed them so much was the fact that they were conducted over the suburban hills and dales of Oxford, most of which were owned by the University of Oxford and which were used in peacetime as “Lovers’ Lanes”. The contrast between the English countryside during time of war, with 30-ton tanks roaming the hills and Spitfires and gliders filling the sky, and the same picturesque scenes which we imagined typical of peacetime England, will forever remain in our memories.
At first, it was difficult to adjust our financial dealings to the English monetary system. The pound was fixed at four dollars in American money, the shilling at 20 cents and the penny at six for ten cents. Since the banks could get $4.02 for each pound, they made a slight profit on the exchange in the New York money market.
After setting up our barracks, we were given an opportunity to visit Oxford, which we did post haste. A bus terminal was located just outside the camp, about a fifteen minute walk from our barracks. It took only fifteen minutes to reach the center of town, Carfax, a busily-trafficked, well-populated business and entertainment district. Larger than most American towns, Oxford looks exactly like and English city an American would expect to find after reading about the English people and their country. Dotted with many movie and show houses (cinemas), stores, banks and business offices, Oxford was still “open for business” for the college student. The English rations which we received weren’t sufficient for our tremendous appetites, so every evening we went to town and consumed an additional supper, which also was insufficient. The English people were sacrificing and tightening their belts for the boys who were fighting on foreign lands. The English bars, called “pubs”, unlike our own, catered to the family trade and it wasn’t uncommon on a Saturday night for whole families to spend the entire evening sipping a few scotches and talking with the American soldiers. As a matter of fact, it was in the pubs that the Americans got to learn a great deal about the English, and vice versa.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Memories
Five P.M. on September 23, 1942 terminated for us the temporary period of army life glamour and began the more sober interlude of a soldier's life during time of war. We were alerted for overseas duty! That night consisted of a series of short naps and interruptions; dog tags were checked, new equipment and impregnated uniforms distributed, passports and identification cards issues and sailing instructions and regulations read. We didn't need a bugle to wake us up the next morning at 5 A.M. After breakfast and the last minute rush and confusion of packing and moving, we lined up in front of our barracks and began that never-to-be-forgotten hike to the train, which was to takes us to the boat. Our barracks tags seemed to get heavier as we walked that last mile to the station.
The scenes along the way left a vivid impression upon our minds as we boarded the train. We had heard and had seen in the movies stories about the departure of the troops during the last war and marvelled at their spirit. But here we were, going through the same experiences never once realizing the real import of the situation. The people along the way seemed to sense that we were going overseas. Crying women, excited children and sober-looking me lined the tracks trying to do their bit to make us cognizant of the fact that they appreciated our predicament. They seemed to realize exactly what was in store for us. We however, had become celebrities and heroes overnight and seemed to enjoy our newly-acquired glory and honor.
But the novelty quickly wore off. Our train reached Jersey City and we were ferried across to the Fourteenth Street Pier in New York. The so-called "shake-down inspection" which we expected and which was so publicized was lacking, however. We climbed aboard a 19,000-ton Dutch boat, the Marnix Van Sint Aldegonde, which already was practically overflowing with soldiers. "Marnix" is a Dutch word meaning memories. The boat seemed to have been named just for us.
The low point of our army life up to that time arrived when we were escorted to our "suite", a room which formally contained eight cabins and two lavatories. There we were, over 300 strong (or weak), being introduced to troopship life with the following statement by a transport officer: "Fellows, this is where you will eat, sleep and provide your own entertainment for the balance of your trip". Our hearts sunk. We often had read of the crowded conditions aboard troopships, but we never expected such an initiation into our life overseas.
We remained in New York harbor the 24th and 25th, with Staten Island to our left and Coney Island's Half Moon Hotel to our right, only a stone's throw away. On the morning of the 26th, with the rest of the convoy which had come into line during the night, we sailed past the Statue Of Liberty and left the "land of the free" with tears in our eyes and aching pains in our hearts. We were beginning to realize what America really meant to Americans.
On September 28th, we dropped anchor in Halifax harbor which was filled with British and American troopships, including the old liner Manhattan. We recieved further instructinons, took on water and continued on our way. This stopover was a second heartbreak for a group of fifty men who only a week before were inducted into the army and who were erroneously sent to the boat instead of a train. They had appealed to land in Halifax since their presence was obviously a mistake, but since no new instructions had arrived, no one was permitted to leave the ship.
The food on board ship was atrocious, something about which the less said the better. We ate from our own messkits and cleaned them off with cold salt water. All the food had a disgustingly fishy smell and taste, most of which was left over after each meal. The only decent food was stale bread and strong English tea. As a result, we bought most of our meals, which consisted of Pepsi-Cola and Hershey bars, at the ship's PX.
Although hammocks had been provided for sleeping accomodations, many of the boys who did not prefer "swinging in the hammocks" slept on the floor, on deck, in the lounge rooms, or any other place where there was floor space. The nightly odor of human bodies was replaced during the day by stale fish odors. The only fresh air was out on deck, but this too was crowded since everybody stood there as long as they could. The less-crowded, roomier decks were reserved for the officers and nurses.
The gambling element aboard ship kept the boys interested day and night with crap and card games running around the clock. The boys with the dough did manage to get good food and pleasant sleeping accomodations from the ship's crew. Even on board a troop ship during time of war, money seemed to talk. Evidently, the "goodies" were being saved by the members of the crew just for that purpose.
Our convoy, as far as we could see, consisted of about twenty ships. Each boat seemed to have a definite position in the convoy pattern and every few minutes each ship would change its course without changing its position, just in case a German submarine was within accurate torpedo range. We later read that we were part of the largest convoy to go to England up to that time. Our protection consisted of a light cruiser and several destroyers and corvettes. The trip was uneventful except for a radio report from Berlin stating that our ship had been torpedoed and sunk.
On October 7th, we sighted the rocky hills of North Ireland, then the peaceful Firth of Forth and finally, the river Clyde, featured by its beautiful green landscaping and the hundreds of shipyards lining the waterfront. We docked at noon in Glasgow harbor and debarked, happy to be on land once more.
The scenes along the way left a vivid impression upon our minds as we boarded the train. We had heard and had seen in the movies stories about the departure of the troops during the last war and marvelled at their spirit. But here we were, going through the same experiences never once realizing the real import of the situation. The people along the way seemed to sense that we were going overseas. Crying women, excited children and sober-looking me lined the tracks trying to do their bit to make us cognizant of the fact that they appreciated our predicament. They seemed to realize exactly what was in store for us. We however, had become celebrities and heroes overnight and seemed to enjoy our newly-acquired glory and honor.
But the novelty quickly wore off. Our train reached Jersey City and we were ferried across to the Fourteenth Street Pier in New York. The so-called "shake-down inspection" which we expected and which was so publicized was lacking, however. We climbed aboard a 19,000-ton Dutch boat, the Marnix Van Sint Aldegonde, which already was practically overflowing with soldiers. "Marnix" is a Dutch word meaning memories. The boat seemed to have been named just for us.
The low point of our army life up to that time arrived when we were escorted to our "suite", a room which formally contained eight cabins and two lavatories. There we were, over 300 strong (or weak), being introduced to troopship life with the following statement by a transport officer: "Fellows, this is where you will eat, sleep and provide your own entertainment for the balance of your trip". Our hearts sunk. We often had read of the crowded conditions aboard troopships, but we never expected such an initiation into our life overseas.
We remained in New York harbor the 24th and 25th, with Staten Island to our left and Coney Island's Half Moon Hotel to our right, only a stone's throw away. On the morning of the 26th, with the rest of the convoy which had come into line during the night, we sailed past the Statue Of Liberty and left the "land of the free" with tears in our eyes and aching pains in our hearts. We were beginning to realize what America really meant to Americans.
On September 28th, we dropped anchor in Halifax harbor which was filled with British and American troopships, including the old liner Manhattan. We recieved further instructinons, took on water and continued on our way. This stopover was a second heartbreak for a group of fifty men who only a week before were inducted into the army and who were erroneously sent to the boat instead of a train. They had appealed to land in Halifax since their presence was obviously a mistake, but since no new instructions had arrived, no one was permitted to leave the ship.
The food on board ship was atrocious, something about which the less said the better. We ate from our own messkits and cleaned them off with cold salt water. All the food had a disgustingly fishy smell and taste, most of which was left over after each meal. The only decent food was stale bread and strong English tea. As a result, we bought most of our meals, which consisted of Pepsi-Cola and Hershey bars, at the ship's PX.
Although hammocks had been provided for sleeping accomodations, many of the boys who did not prefer "swinging in the hammocks" slept on the floor, on deck, in the lounge rooms, or any other place where there was floor space. The nightly odor of human bodies was replaced during the day by stale fish odors. The only fresh air was out on deck, but this too was crowded since everybody stood there as long as they could. The less-crowded, roomier decks were reserved for the officers and nurses.
The gambling element aboard ship kept the boys interested day and night with crap and card games running around the clock. The boys with the dough did manage to get good food and pleasant sleeping accomodations from the ship's crew. Even on board a troop ship during time of war, money seemed to talk. Evidently, the "goodies" were being saved by the members of the crew just for that purpose.
Our convoy, as far as we could see, consisted of about twenty ships. Each boat seemed to have a definite position in the convoy pattern and every few minutes each ship would change its course without changing its position, just in case a German submarine was within accurate torpedo range. We later read that we were part of the largest convoy to go to England up to that time. Our protection consisted of a light cruiser and several destroyers and corvettes. The trip was uneventful except for a radio report from Berlin stating that our ship had been torpedoed and sunk.
On October 7th, we sighted the rocky hills of North Ireland, then the peaceful Firth of Forth and finally, the river Clyde, featured by its beautiful green landscaping and the hundreds of shipyards lining the waterfront. We docked at noon in Glasgow harbor and debarked, happy to be on land once more.
Preface
The adventures of a soldier in the states during wartime are a far cry from his life overseas. Much has been written about the soldiers' experience in the induction station, reception center and training camp, and of the grandeur and glory of the uniform in the states, but the general public knows very little of the life of the soldier overseas.
The writer has been in a very fortunate position to observe and speak to the overseas soldier. He was a member of a medical unit which actively participated in the North African, Sicilian, Italian, French and German campaigns. His particular job enabled him to speak to and care for many boys who were front line casualties, and he thereby acquired information and human interest stories from the boys who did the actual fighting. The Ninth Evacuation Hospital seemed to represent the Grand Central Station of the North African Army, as through its tents passed 70% of the battle casualties of the entire campaign. It represented a cross-section of public opinion of the American overseas army during 1943. During 1944 and 1945, it represented the opinion of the various armies allied with ours on the Continent. Truly, it served as the Gallup Poll of the Army of the United States and its allies for three years.
December 7, 1941 found this soldier, like the rest of the country, asleep at the switch. The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor began a swift series of experiences which radically changed our lives. Draft board interviews, physical examinations, induction notices and actual induction started the change. The lightning-like travels through the induction center, reception center and training camp sped up the change. In two months, the writer was transformed from a peace-loving, ostrich-like citizen to an experienced soldier ready to serve his country on foreign shores.
This story describes solely the American soldiers' experiences overseas.
The writer has been in a very fortunate position to observe and speak to the overseas soldier. He was a member of a medical unit which actively participated in the North African, Sicilian, Italian, French and German campaigns. His particular job enabled him to speak to and care for many boys who were front line casualties, and he thereby acquired information and human interest stories from the boys who did the actual fighting. The Ninth Evacuation Hospital seemed to represent the Grand Central Station of the North African Army, as through its tents passed 70% of the battle casualties of the entire campaign. It represented a cross-section of public opinion of the American overseas army during 1943. During 1944 and 1945, it represented the opinion of the various armies allied with ours on the Continent. Truly, it served as the Gallup Poll of the Army of the United States and its allies for three years.
December 7, 1941 found this soldier, like the rest of the country, asleep at the switch. The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor began a swift series of experiences which radically changed our lives. Draft board interviews, physical examinations, induction notices and actual induction started the change. The lightning-like travels through the induction center, reception center and training camp sped up the change. In two months, the writer was transformed from a peace-loving, ostrich-like citizen to an experienced soldier ready to serve his country on foreign shores.
This story describes solely the American soldiers' experiences overseas.
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