Category: Stories

Merle Southworth WWII POW

Merle Leroy Southworth

Merle Leroy Southworth's grandchild wrote:

This is my grandpa, Merle Leroy Southworth, born March 7, 1915, Randolph County Indiana. I don’t remember grandpa ever talking about his time in the service, so this we have pieced together from the records we have found on line or from a box he had sent home from Germany.

At the age of 26, he enlisted in the Army on December 31, 1941 at Ft Benjamin Harrison Indiana as Private. Branch Immaterial – Warrant Officers, USA

Merle’s military occupational assignments were; Pvt. Infantry Basic, Tec 5 Light Truck Driver, Tec 4 General Carpenter.

Under the leadership of Platoon Sgt. T/3 Peter J. Lemmo and Assistant S/ Sgt Harold T. Wilson, he was made Cpl and Squad Leader of the 3rdSquad with his Assistant T/4 Ringwalt with 16 men under his command. They were assigned carpentry duties in connection with construction repair at Army Posts in the United States and The European Theatre of Operations. They built frames, laid floors, erected partitions, constructed concrete forms, scaffolds and installed electric wiring in buildings. Crated and packed materials and supplies in waterproof and corrosion proof boxes for overseas shipments.

Upon returning to the US after his tour, we believe he was assigned to the POW Camp in Indianola, Nebraska (the reason for this photo ID pin) to do carpentry work in the camp.

In October of 1943 Cpl Southworth received a Drivers & Mechanics Award AR 600-81 MKM-R

On October 31, 1945 Cpl Merle Leroy Southworth, Tec 4, 85th Field Hospital, received an Honorable Discharge with recognition in:

Battles and Campaigns:
Rhineland Central Europe WD GO 33-45

Decorations and Citations:
Good Conduct Med AR 600-68 EAMETO Med.

SGT. F. Robert Bruske

* Bob was an expert marksman. He had a 30-06 with scope and he was used when the unit needed a sharpshooter. He never talked about the fighting and killing. Talked about the good time with buddies and the time he ran into a friend from home….lifetime friends after that. Turned out to be a photographer for the Saginaw News.Bob worked for the U.S. Postal system when he returned. Spent many years deer hunting with the Army rifle he was allowed to bring home.

* Bob landed in Cherbourg, France after the Allies constructed the artificial harbor, then continued on to Germany.

Edward J. Hoar WWII Picture

Edward J. Hoar

TECHNICAL SERGEANT EDWARD J. HOAR

September 3, 1917 – April 9, 2001

My father, Edward J. Hoar (aka Big Ed and E.J.), owned a newsstand across the street from the Empire State Building in New York when he was drafted in 1942. He was sent to Pine Camp, near Watertown, N.Y. where he would meet his wife to be and my mother, Laura, whom he would marry after his return from overseas in 1946. From Pine Camp he was sent to Kentucky, Oklahoma and later to the desert area of California for additional training as a light tank driver. He would eventually be shipped off to England in early 1944 as part of the Fourth Armored Division of Patton’s Third Army. Here they would wait for the D-Day initiative in June, 1944.

Landing at Utah Beach in July, 1944 the Fourth Armored would play a major role in helping to relieve the beleaguered 101st Airborne Division by attacking the German Army at Bastogne in December, 1944. The Germans had just launched their Ardennes offensive which also became known as the Battle of the Bulge. Militarily defined as the Ardennes Counteroffensive, this action included the German drive and the American effort to contain and later defeat that initiative.

During the Fourth Armored’s drive across France and Germany, Big Ed, as a light tank driver, would be one of the first Americans to enter many of the towns along the way. Like many vets, Big Ed, never spoke much about the war. He did mention having three tanks “shot out from under him”, and seeing both friends and the enemy killed in battle. As Chris can attest, he brought back many souvenirs from the war including German helmets, guns, swords, daggers, medals, and pins. All of these items have been sold or given to collectors of World War II memorabilia.

After returning from Germany in 1946, Big Ed was discharged and married my mother, who was a PFC in the WACs and a Disabled American Veteran as a result of two separate accidents involving the testing of poisonous gases at Edgewood Arsenal in Maryland. My Dad returned to work in his newsstand for the next ten years before our family relocated to Syracuse, NY where he would work for and later retire from the US Postal Service.

My mother died in 1986 and was the first female veteran buried in the newly established Onondaga County Veteran’s cemetery. My father died in 2001 and is buried next to Laura, who was his wife and also the love of his life for over forty years.

Jorgen Jorgensen WWII Story picture

Jorgen Jorgensen

by Jorgen Jorgensen

Our mission as army pilots was to aid chiang kai chek leader of the nationalists in the war with the communists under the leadership of mao zedong.1945.

My copilot and Imet the chinese raw soldiers at the c-46 cargo plane were we to fly them to a designated field from kunming china We looked at these seemingly half starved peasants with no uniforms, but just a cotton undershirt ,and pants that looked like cotton underwear. They all were wearing the straw conical straw hats, and were wearing the fibre sandals with bare feet.. They each had slung across their chest a pair of bullet loaded belts slung like a cross against their chest. Each had a rifle . There was a leader that under stood some english.

After loading the troops, we closed the doors of the plane, put on our parachutes. The parachutes were dual purpose so that incase the main chute failed to open, the second chute should.The mainparachute formed our seat and the other chute formed our back cushion .

As we flew in a clear day and all was, well, we started to smell smoke coming from the back of the plane. My copilot went back to find all the chinese huddled around a fire. My copilot managed to put out the fire, and asked why? The answer was they were cold and wanted to warm up.

We were happy to finally land and rid of these troops. . We both were thankful they did not try to shoot us while in the air.

*****

c46 smoke from plane2

It was a rainy morning, and we were getting ready to start on the assigned mission. The procedure was to first inspect the outside of the c-46 for any obvious damage, and check all moving parts of the ailerons, tail elevators and the vertical tail. The length of the plane is 74 ft 4 inches.The wingspan is 108 ft. The two wing mounted engines are 2100 hp each with a set of four bladed props. The weight of the empty plane is 15000 lbs.

We walked from the rear door of the plane, found and mounted the dual parachutes, using them for a seat cushion and the 2nd parachute as a back cushion. We started the two engines, while my copilot read the start up sheet, checking each control and dial indicator as instructed.

After finishing the required check list procedure, and warming the engines, checking that the mags were cleared, and the engines were running smoothly, we radioed the control tower for take off time.

We were at take off position, and when the tower gave us the GO command, I increased the power to maximum while we both pressed the brakes with our maximum strength. The entire plane shook as if it was about to fall apart. We removed our feet from the brakes, and the plane started down the runway. It was like driving a truck from a seat 22 ft above the ground. Between steering the plane down the center of the runway, I adjusted all the trim tabs for maintaining the plane to move straight, trim tabs to start the tail to lift to close to a horizontal elevation before attaining 130 mph, the speed needed to obtain flight.

The 130 mph once obtained, I set the controls to gain altitude at 500 ft per min.

Every take off was a play back in my mind of a take off start of a fellow pilot. He was off the ground about 50 ft when he had one of the engines die. His plane was carrying a load of about 7.5 tons of gasoline. The loss of one engine caused his plane to stall and the plane dropped to the ground. The plane stopped from more than 130 mph to zero, the plane burst into flames, and the pilots could not release their safety belts, the flames engulfed the plane, I heard the screams as the flight crew burned to death.

I climbed to my designated altitude, all seemed well, and I started a turn to the left; the plane would not turn, I moved the vertical tail left to right, but nothing happened, there was no movement of the tail, it just flopped in the wind.

In order to make a controlled turn, a pilot uses his ailerons on the wings to tilt the plane in a rotating fashion while adding power to the engines and turning the vertical tail rudder. This method is needed to obtain a turn to keep from the plane being thrown out horizontally due to centrifugal force.

I called the field for permission to keep the runway open for emergency landing. This was a learning experience I was never prepared for. I used the engines to aide me in turning the as well as the ailerons, but it was like trying to dance with a bull buffalo. I managed a wide arc to where we could not even see the field. Finally after a struggle I lined up with the runway and made a landing that we were able to walk away from. I was told any landing that one can walk away from is a good one.

*****

My orders was to report for a mission of an extended time from home base at Shanghai. Dick and I reported to our designated C-46. The plane was already loaded with some Chinese high ranking officers and US Army high ranking officers. The selected crew comprised of a radio operator, a navigator, and us to fly the plane.

The navigator gave compass setting, altitude, and said Canton is the destination.

There were two planes that were going to Canton at the same time, they also had Chinese and Army brass as passengers. The tower gave each the order of take off. All three of us where in the air, the weather at Shanghai was fine. The weather was starting to cloud up, and when the radio compass indicated the direction to the Canton field, we had been in heavy fog for the past half hour at least. I lost track of the other two planes, I called to the tower for landing instructions. I learned the field was in-between two mountains, the visibility was good about 600 feet elevation, any higher than 600 feet was dense fog. We were between mountains, and not following the next instructions would mean a crash.

The radio compass indicated a compass reading, I turned the plane until the radio compass reading was “O”. As I approached the tower, the radio compass turned to 15 degrees. This was crazy, which direction was correct to cross over the tower? I made a 180 degree turn to the left, as I was in the turn, the navigator came forward and started to yell at me for not proceeding to land, instead of wandering around the sky. I was wet from perspiration and no mood to answer him, I turned the plane until the radio compass again indicated”. Again we proceeded to the radio tower, and, again the radio compass swung 15 degrees to the left. I had to make a choice which direction was the first “O” or the “15” indication prevented the crashing into a mountain. I had all this brass on board as well as my crew. I chose the initial direction “O”, continued to the tower, and called the tower for landing instructions. I was given a compass setting to turn to, and, an altitude to fly at, the length of time to fly past the tower, continue for a given time at 180 radio compass indication, turn to a gyro compass setting given me, fly at the given direction for a given time interval, turn 180 degrees, and start the let down to the runway. I followed the tower instructions. I made a safe landing. One of our planes used the “15” degree signal, and, crashed into the side of a mountain. The third plane landed safely.

We were all set up with sleeping and eating services since we had to wait for better weather before flying to Hanoi. The remains of the personnel were found by a search party. The identity of the pilot, from his teeth, was found in his stomach remains, he used to fly for an airline in the States before coming to the air corps.

The stay was three days of hot, very humid weather. My shoes we showing mold and my uniforms were damp. I felt sad for our commanding officer of the Canton army air field. He did his best to find ways of reducing our boredom.

Finally the weather let up, an, we started our trip to Hanoi. We were the last plane to take off, and the navigator gave me compass and altitude instuctions. As soon as clearing the field, we were flying below mountains, which was a zigzag cruise, rather a fun time.

We ended at the coast line at the bay of Tonkin. I was ordered to fly up over the cloud overcast to where we were in bright blue sky, and, the clouds below looking like a dark grey blanket. I was ordered to go down into the dark fog mass. The navigator was sitting between Dick and I. He suddenly looked up from his map, and told me to immediately turn sharply to the left, we were in the heavy fog at this time. I turned sharply up into a left turn as my right wing missed the rocks by about three feet.. This trip was no fun.

I came out of the clouds as I straightened and reduced my altitude. Below I saw a mass of mud flats at the outlet of the RED RIVER. The direction the navigator was to follow the entry to the RED RIVER which would guide us to the Hanoi air port. The river is a winding 29 miles, or more, with all twists and turns. The navigator studied his map and he located the entry to the river. I let down to about 1000 feet, and, followed the navigator’s direction. I was happy that he found the way, because I was totally confused by all the mud flaps with the water canals between.

As I started following the river, the fog ceiling got lower. I slowed to 130 mph.. As we progressed along the river, the fog was now so low that I could see only about 180 feet ahead,I reduced my altitude so much that now that the power of the propellers churned the water in the river. Then stone columns appeared at the left of the plane ,so I had to bank to the right and elevate to avoid hitting the column. In the next few moments, a stone column appeared at the right and I banked sharp and up to the left. These stone columns continued to appear for about another 20 minutes as I banked left & up and down, right & up and down The navigator came up to me, and wondered if I had lost my mind. The passengers were throwing up from getting air sick, they not realize the twisting up and down was done to prevent a crash.

Finally after 94 minutes of winding our along the river, Hanoi appeared along the river. At last I could contact the tower there, get landing permission and instructions I could see French tanks and trucks lined up at the field. The French army was at the northern edge fighting the Viet cong.

We left our plane while bullets were flying by, it sounded like bees flying by us. After reaching the building, we rested, the Major from our plane, invited us to a “gombai” party, We were in for a treat. We were served hot rice wine, it was delicious, after the wine came a large bowl of fish eye soup with a ceramic spoon. I dipped the spoon, and, as I raised the spoon, the soup became a thick string of what looked like glue, I replaced the ceramic spoon while looking down into the soup, I looked at all the dead fish eyes staring back at me. I with the rest of our group, had no soup. The food continued to our table, such as fried grass hoppers, fried termites, and another fried insects, the rest of the meal was good, I was happy not to know what kind of meat was used in the dishes.

By the time the meal was ending, I had to relieve myself, I tried to get up but my legs lost feelings, I was really starting to sweat, finally after a few minutes, feeling came back, and, I was able to leave for relief.

I was anxious to leave Hanoi but had to wait for orders. The French that made their home in Hanoi, had shops of French wares, and French food, there were many young women, a mix of native and French birth. I attended a dance as an observer, the French men were dancing with the young ladies of mixed, native, and French origin. There was an aura of gloom, and I asked a person there why. I was told that the French troops were starting to retreat, the war in indo china had been going on for years, and, the Viet cong was winning, They knew the day was soon where the killing of the residents would happen, and, the dance was to try help escape the inevenable.

The following day, I was told to leave with our radio man to an army field that was on a given compass setting, where we would land, refuel,rest, and return to Shanghai. The navigator had enough of me, so no navigator for us. As we started on our way, we watched tanks and trucks leaving Hanoi and the Viet cong. I was happy leaving Hanoi, wondering if the others made it out, I saw none of the others again.

The trip to the field was uneventful, we picked up the tower signal, landed, and were given food and sleeping quarters.

We entered this old vacated Jap barn equipped with canvas beds, assigned one of them each to Dick and I. The first night was misting and damp. We were each given an army blanket. I was could, damp, could not sleep. The following morning, we saw all the manure disposal openings along the base of the walls where all the damp cold air came in to keep us cold and miserable. I left thru the stable door into the recent Jap grave yard. It must have been a hasty Jap escape, since so many did not become fully buried. I saw this hand and arm sticking out of the ground, there was black skin on the hand, and the near naked skull that seemed to belong to the arm. The black lips that pulled away from the teeth looked like the Jap was buried alive.

The breakfast took place at the outdoor army mess. The food was served on trays by a couple of unhappy soldiers wearing helmet liners and raincoats. Both Dick and I wanted to leave to Shanghai; to warm barracks, and comfortable sleeping bags. I checked with the weather officer at the tower, he said we could leave this morning. The mist was still heavy. He said his ground crew would turn our plane and position it in line with the runway. We would have heavy fog up to about 6000 feet, and, then be in the clear weather for a safe flight to Shanghai.

Dick and I agreed to the plan.

I checked the compass setting, pre-flight procedure, and started the engines, while looking at the runway, I only saw runway for about 60 feet in front of me. It was to be an instrument take off, or stay another night here. We agreed to take off, what a mistake!

It was my first, and, last instrument take off, I understand the standing orders a mandatory ceiling of 300 feet minimum for landing or take off. I maintained the compass setting while taking off .I started the 500 fpm. climb to 6000 feet. We reached 6000 feet but no clear weather. I forgot to tell you we still had our radio operator with us. I thought we would be clear, but we were now at 8000 feet, I was starting to worry, and by the looks on the faces of the other two, they were feeling the same way.

The wings were starting to pick up ice, so I started the operation of the deicing boots. As we continued climbing, the peto tube froze up, and, the air speed meter indicated “O”. Now the instruments of interest was the altimeter and rate of climb meter. The engines sounded strange, I turned on the propeller deicers, and ice started bombarding the fuselage, I thought we would end up with holes in our airplane aluminum shell. The altimeter reached 14900 feet, my controls went limp, nothing worked, the altimeter reading had reached 15000 feet, and. the plane seemed to shift, we all were trying to get up to go to the back to jump, I could not move, both Dick and our radio operator were clinging together, trying to move, we were all anchored to our seats. We were mesmerized by the altimeter as it wound slowly down from 15000 ft.

As I watched the unwinding of the altimeter reading similar to a clock turning backwards, I was trying to remember every moment of memory of my wife and parents before we reached the earth, I have a hard time thinking of about that span of time.

At 3500 feet on the altimeter dial, the ice melted, and flew off the wings in large chunks. We were in vertical dive. Both Dick and I grabbed the controls, pulled on the control columns with all our strength, our speed down was no longer shown on the speed meter, I feel were at 500 mph or more, 15000 plus pounds dropping from 15000 feet vertically toward earth is a velocity unknown to me. We were both jamming the floor pedals straight legged no response. Then there was start of movement, I watched my left wing bend up, and heard the sound of crunching metal, I was afraid of losing the wings, but they held. The ground looked like a freight train coming at us as we were fought the controls, Finally the plane started to respond. We slowly came out of our dive, and, leveled out above the ground by a couple feet, if the landing gear had been down, this letter would never existed. I saw the face of a Chinese flat on the ground with a face staring at me in stark horror, and, (I will never forget seeing it). I leveled out, and started the climb back up to 1500 feet, turned to the field from which we started. The sky was clear, we had fallen between two mountains a few minutes before.

We agreed to return to our starting field, since none of us were in a mood for Shanghai at this time. The sky was blue, and, we anxious to get back on ground to try to make sense of our flight. I could not have returned to the field at the time when I reached 8000 feet, an instrument landing was impossible because the landing field was still in fog.

*****

1. The time to return to Shanghai was now, so only I and my copilot climbed aboard the C—46 that was set for us. After the exterior visual checks, we strapped on our parachutes, sat and fastened our safety straps. While my copilot read the pre flight instructions, we both checked all, and, I started the two 2000 hp. plus engines. After permission to proceed to the start of the runway, we waited for our permission to take off.
I turned on to the runway, both Dick and I depressed all four brake pedals, the 15ooo
Pound mass of airplane shook as if was going to break into a thousand pieces. Upon max rpm, we released the brakes and the plane started forward, gaining speed every second. About reaching 100 mph. I set trim tabs to elevate the plane tail to an approximate horizontal condition, and, reaching 130 mph. I started the 500 feet per minute rate of climb by trim tabs, while Dick adjusted the flaps for take off. As soon as we cleared the runway, Dick raised the landing gear. We climbed and starting turning left in a spiral circle manner until we reached 20,000 feet. While turning these climbing circles we looked at the rice paddies cut into the side of the mountain like giant steps reaching up the mountain side until it was time to plant the rice.
After reaching 20,000 feet, I set our course at the compass setting for Shanghai. We entered a mass black clouds and fog, The radio compass read 180 degrees which meant were leaving the radio tower. Out air speed was about 180 mph, I engaged the auto pilot thinking we could sit back and relax. All was well for about two hours into the flight when I lapsed into a vertigo attack, I thought the nose was diving into the mountains, and Dick fought my erratic antics. After I got control again, the auto pilot control was off, the gyro compass was spinning and we were losing our direction. We had to have a compass to obtain reachin the 50 mile radio signal at Shanghai airport. This was living in hell, we would wander until we ran out of gas and crash. If we tried to bail out, the plane would not stay level with no one controling the plane. We would have to choose which one of us would jump first.
The only way of possibly coming out alive was to find a compass. The survival kit behind our secondary parachutes should contain a hand held compass. Dick was first to get out up from his seat, remove his parachute, open his survival kit. There was supposed to be food and equipment for survival after parachuting. There was nothing left, some previous pilot had taken every thing. I had to fight to keep from panicking. Dick replaced his parachute, resumed his seat and took control of the plane. I then went thru the same as Dick to where I opened my survival kit. It too was stripped except for a plastic cylinder tube. I looked at this object and found a screw top with matches therein. I looked at the top and saw the nickel shaped compass. I clutched that compass while holding the mini compass with a grip that was like hanging on to a life-line. I took the controls while looking at the compass and setting our course, wondering if the compass was giving us a correct reading due to magnetic interference of any components in the cockpit area. I fought to keep hope and Dick’s face had the color of death. We still had at least 5 hours of flying left.
To add to our misery I saw ice forming on the wings, I immediately turned on the pulsating leading edge of the wings, and to my horror only one wing boot was working. It seemed we had more problems than we could cope with. I pushed the control column down for rapid descent. I did not know if we might hit a mountain but to stay in icing conditions meant certain loss of lift and a certain crash. We continued down to about 14,000 feet altitude where the ice stopped to form.

The rest of the time was in flying and looking at the compass, the controlling with one hand was exhausting. Then another miracle occurred, we picked up a radio signal, Dick called the control tower to clear the runway for a landing. The tower called back, agreed to keep the field open for an emergency landing. We have 1000 feet clear visibility.

I started down to 1000 feet altitude when we both could see the field. I did not approach the runway in correct army flight procedure. The correct method was to fly at 1500 ft high and parallel the runway looking at the runway at the lower left side while flying at a 180 degree heading. Turn, let down at 500 feet per minute to make a good landing. I saw the start of the runway and dove, turned to line up with the runway and made the landing.

Dick and I had to report our flight with all details. The commanding officer and a flight doctor listened and recorded our adventure. The doctor poured Dick and I a glass of medical alcohol, which was a good brand of vodka.

*****

We were on our compass setting from Kunming to Shanghai. The sky above was clear, and, the clouds below were dark, it looked like a blanket of grey ruffled blankets. I asked Dick if he would like to take the left seat and I would use the copilot seat. He liked the idea, so we switched seats.
I was listening to the radio for a signal as we approached the 50 mile signal radius of the tower radio signal. The radio compass picked up the signal, indicated our path by the gyro compass indication. Dick turned the plane until the radio compass indicated “O”, and we now started the way to the tower. I heard the instruction to let down to 1500 feet. 1500 feet is the normal altitude for making a normal landing. I waited for Dick to start the descent but he threw up both hands. I was startled, I had to take over,
I had never before made a landing from the copilot position, I was used to handle all the controls with both hands automatically, now I had to handle the controls mirror image. This was another learning experience while flying without an instructor.
I started the descent to 1500 feet, leveled out, proceeded to find and turn to the down wind direction. The wind sock confirmed my direction, I flew beyond the approach to the runway to a distance that gave me enough distance to start the left turn left. I was now in line with the runway, still at 1500 feet, when I slowed the plane to 130 mph. from 180 mph. I set the flaps, lowered the landing gear, and waited to land. It was a tough change in body contortions, I managed a safe power landing. There would never again be an exchange of seating positions. Dick and I never again discussed this flight.
*****

My orders was to report for a mission of an extended time from home base at Shanghai. Dick and I reported to our designated C-46. The plane was already loaded with some Chinese high ranking officers and US Army high ranking officers. The selected crew comprised of a radio operator, a navigator, and us to fly the plane.
The navigator gave compass setting, altitude, and said Canton is the destination.
There were two planes that were going to Canton at the same time, they also had Chinese and Army brass as passengers. The tower gave each the order of take off. All three of us where in the air, the weather at Shanghai was fine. The weather was starting to cloud up, and when the radio compass indicated the direction to the Canton field, we had been in heavy fog for the past half hour at least. I lost track of the other two planes, I called to the tower for landing instructions. I learned the field was in-between two mountains, the visibility was good about 600 feet elevation, any higher than 600 feet was dense fog. We were between mountains, and not following the next instructions would mean a crash.
The radio compass indicated a compass reading, I turned the plane until the radio compass reading was “O”. As I approached the tower, the radio compass turned to 15 degrees. This was crazy, which direction was correct to cross over the tower? I made a 180 degree turn to the left, as I was in the turn, the navigator came forward and started to yell at me for not proceeding to land, instead of wandering around the sky. I was wet from perspiration and no mood to answer him, I turned the plane until the radio compass again indicated”. Again we proceeded to the radio tower, and, again the radio compass swung 15 degrees to the left. I had to make a choice which direction was the first “O” or the “15” indication prevented the crashing into a mountain. I had all this brass on board as well as my crew. I chose the initial direction “O”, continued to the tower, and called the tower for landing instructions. I was given a compass setting to turn to, and, an altitude to fly at, the length of time to fly past the tower, continue for a given time at 180 radio compass indication, turn to a gyro compass setting given me, fly at the given direction for a given time interval, turn 180 degrees, and start the let down to the runway. I followed the tower instructions. I made a safe landing. One of our planes used the “15” degree signal, and, crashed into the side of a mountain. The third plane landed safely.
We were all set up with sleeping and eating services since we had to wait for better weather before flying to Hanoi. The remains of the personnel were found by a search party. The identity of the pilot, from his teeth, was found in his stomach remains, he used to fly for an airline in the States before coming to the air corps.
The stay was three days of hot, very humid weather. My shoes we showing mold and my uniforms were damp. I felt sad for our commanding officer of the Canton army air field. He did his best to find ways of reducing our boredom.
Finally the weather let up, an, we started our trip to Hanoi. We were the last plane to take off, and the navigator gave me compass and altitude instuctions. As soon as clearing the field, we were flying below mountains, which was a zigzag cruise, rather a fun time.
We ended at the coast line at the bay of Tonkin. I was ordered to fly up over the cloud overcast to where we were in bright blue sky, and, the clouds below looking like a dark grey blanket. I was ordered to go down into the dark fog mass. The navigator was sitting between Dick and I. He suddenly looked up from his map, and told me to immediately turn sharply to the left, we were in the heavy fog at this time. I turned sharply up into a left turn as my right wing missed the rocks by about three feet.. This trip was no fun.
I came out of the clouds as I straightened and reduced my altitude. Below I saw a mass of mud flats at the outlet of the RED RIVER. The direction the navigator was to follow the entry to the RED RIVER which would guide us to the Hanoi air port. The river is a winding 29 miles, or more, with all twists and turns. The navigator studied his map and he located the entry to the river. I let down to about 1000 feet, and, followed the navigator’s direction. I was happy that he found the way, because I was totally confused by all the mud flaps with the water canals between.
As I started following the river, the fog ceiling got lower. I slowed to 130 mph.. As we progressed along the river, the fog was now so low that I could see only about 180 feet ahead,I reduced my altitude so much that now that the power of the propellers churned the water in the river. Then stone columns appeared at the left of the plane ,so I had to bank to the right and elevate to avoid hitting the column. In the next few moments, a stone column appeared at the right and I banked sharp and up to the left. These stone columns continued to appear for about another 20 minutes as I banked left & up and down, right & up and down The navigator came up to me, and wondered if I had lost my mind. The passengers were throwing up from getting air sick, they not realize the twisting up and down was done to prevent a crash.
Finally after 94 minutes of winding our along the river, Hanoi appeared along the river. At last I could contact the tower there, get landing permission and instructions I could see French tanks and trucks lined up at the field. The French army was at the northern edge fighting the Viet cong.
We left our plane while bullets were flying by, it sounded like bees flying by us. After reaching the building, we rested, the Major from our plane, invited us to a “gombai” party, We were in for a treat. We were served hot rice wine, it was delicious, after the wine came a large bowl of fish eye soup with a ceramic spoon. I dipped the spoon, and, as I raised the spoon, the soup became a thick string of what looked like glue, I replaced the ceramic spoon while looking down into the soup, I looked at all the dead fish eyes staring back at me. I with the rest of our group, had no soup. The food continued to our table, such as fried grass hoppers, fried termites, and another fried insects, the rest of the meal was good, I was happy not to know what kind of meat was used in the dishes.
By the time the meal was ending, I had to relieve myself, I tried to get up but my legs lost feelings, I was really starting to sweat, finally after a few minutes, feeling came back, and, I was able to leave for relief.
I was anxious to leave Hanoi but had to wait for orders. The French that made their home in Hanoi, had shops of French wares, and French food, there were many young women, a mix of native and French birth. I attended a dance as an observer, the French men were dancing with the young ladies of mixed, native, and French origin. There was an aura of gloom, and I asked a person there why. I was told that the French troops were starting to retreat, the war in indo china had been going on for years, and, the Viet cong was winning, They knew the day was soon where the killing of the residents would happen, and, the dance was to try help escape the inevenable.
The following day, I was told to leave with our radio man to an army field that was on a given compass setting, where we would land, refuel,rest, and return to Shanghai. The navigator had enough of me, so no navigator for us. As we started on our way, we watched tanks and trucks leaving Hanoi and the Viet cong. I was happy leaving Hanoi, wondering if the others made it out, I saw none of the others again.
The trip to the field was uneventful, we picked up the tower signal, landed, and were given food and sleeping quarters.
We entered this old vacated Jap barn equipped with canvas beds, assigned one of them each to Dick and I. The first night was misting and damp. We were each given an army blanket. I was could, damp, could not sleep. The following morning, we saw all the manure disposal openings along the base of the walls where all the damp cold air came in to keep us cold and miserable. I left thru the stable door into the recent Jap grave yard. It must have been a hasty Jap escape, since so many did not become fully buried. I saw this hand and arm sticking out of the ground, there was black skin on the hand, and the near naked skull that seemed to belong to the arm. The black lips that pulled away from the teeth looked like the Jap was buried alive.
The breakfast took place at the outdoor army mess. The food was served on trays by a couple of unhappy soldiers wearing helmet liners and raincoats. Both Dick and I wanted to leave to Shanghai; to warm barracks, and comfortable sleeping bags. I checked with the weather officer at the tower, he said we could leave this morning. The mist was still heavy. He said his ground crew would turn our plane and position it in line with the runway. We would have heavy fog up to about 6000 feet, and, then be in the clear weather for a safe flight to Shanghai.
Dick and I agreed to the plan.
I checked the compass setting, pre-flight procedure, and started the engines, while looking at the runway, I only saw runway for about 60 feet in front of me. It was to be an instrument take off, or stay another night here. We agreed to take off, what a mistake!
It was my first, and, last instrument take off, I understand the standing orders a mandatory ceiling of 300 feet minimum for landing or take off. I maintained the compass setting while taking off .I started the 500 fpm. climb to 6000 feet. We reached 6000 feet but no clear weather. I forgot to tell you we still had our radio operator with us. I thought we would be clear, but we were now at 8000 feet, I was starting to worry, and by the looks on the faces of the other two, they were feeling the same way.
The wings were starting to pick up ice, so I started the operation of the deicing boots. As we continued climbing, the peto tube froze up, and, the air speed meter indicated “O”. Now the instruments of interest was the altimeter and rate of climb meter. The engines sounded strange, I turned on the propeller deicers, and ice started bombarding the fuselage, I thought we would end up with holes in our airplane aluminum shell. The altimeter reached 14900 feet, my controls went limp, nothing worked, the altimeter reading had reached 15000 feet, and. the plane seemed to shift, we all were trying to get up to go to the back to jump, I could not move, both Dick and our radio operator were clinging together, trying to move, we were all anchored to our seats. We were mesmerized by the altimeter as it wound slowly down from 15000 ft.
As I watched the unwinding of the altimeter reading similar to a clock turning backwards, I was trying to remember every moment of memory of my wife and parents before we reached the earth, I have a hard time thinking of about that span of time.
At 3500 feet on the altimeter dial, the ice melted, and flew off the wings in large chunks. We were in vertical dive. Both Dick and I grabbed the controls, pulled on the control columns with all our strength, our speed down was no longer shown on the speed meter, I feel were at 500 mph or more, 15000 plus pounds dropping from 15000 feet vertically toward earth is a velocity unknown to me. We were both jamming the floor pedals straight legged no response. Then there was start of movement, I watched my left wing bend up, and heard the sound of crunching metal, I was afraid of losing the wings, but they held. The ground looked like a freight train coming at us as we were fought the controls, Finally the plane started to respond. We slowly came out of our dive, and, leveled out above the ground by a couple feet, if the landing gear had been down, this letter would never existed. I saw the face of a Chinese flat on the ground with a face staring at me in stark horror, and, (I will never forget seeing it). I leveled out, and started the climb back up to 1500 feet, turned to the field from which we started. The sky was clear, we had fallen between two mountains a few minutes before.
We agreed to return to our starting field, since none of us were in a mood for Shanghai at this time. The sky was blue, and, we anxious to get back on ground to try to make sense of our flight. I could not have returned to the field at the time when I reached 8000 feet, an instrument landing was impossible because the landing field was still in fog.

William O. Sabel WWII Story Japanese plane picture

William O. Sabel

By William O. Sabel

Of the many books that have been written by men who fought in World War II, many were first hand accounts of engagements they had participated in. There were many stories of hard fought battles and of unbelievable heroism from these men. Their stories cannot and should not be disparaged nor taken lightly ¾ they were the real heroes.

But we must remember, for every man at the front engaged in battle, there were eight of us in the rear seeing that he had the necessary tools of war as well as making sure that he was taken care of in the event that he should become a casualty. I was part of those service troops.

In 1939 the Nazi war machine rolled across Poland, forcing that country to capitulate to Hitler and his gang. Every day the newspaper headlines informed the reader of further advances by the Germans, of another country succumbing to the rumble of Nazi heavy tanks and the tread of marching feet. One by one the European nations fell to the madman in Berlin, including Austria, Czechoslovakia and Albania

In this country in 1940, the United States Congress felt that war in Europe was imminent and our country must be prepared for any eventuality. Every county in every state was instructed to set up a draft board to classify all single male residents between the ages of twenty-one and thirty-eight as to their eligibility of serving their country in a time of national emergency. A lottery system was inaugurated and each potential draftee was assigned a number. It wasn’t long before I received a card stating that I was classified 1A and could be called to active duty at any time. I was unmarried with no dependents and of the right age. I was operating my own poultry farm near Walkerton, Indiana at the time, having moved to the farm from Chicago in 1938.

In the spring of 1941, I received an induction notice from the Marshall County Draft Board stating that in order to meet the government’s quota for men to serve, it would be necessary for me to be at the railroad station in Plymouth, Indiana at 9 AM on April 14, 1941. My services in the armed forces would be required for one year and for me to get my affairs in order to comply with this demand. As there was no way to avoid this turn of events; the livestock on the farm was sold and the truck and other farm machinery were stored in the chicken house to await my return, which I assumed would be in one year. It would be four and a half long years later before I could return to that poultry farm in Marshall County, Indiana.

At the time I received my induction orders, I resented being one of the first to be called as I felt that I could do more good for my country on the farm instead of in a military uniform. In retrospect, I was fortunate to be one of the early draftees as I was given the opportunity to become an officer in the Army Corps of Engineers. If I had been drafted after the start of hostilities, I would not have been able to select the branch of service I preferred. I surely would have been assigned to a combat unit and sent to one of the many battlefronts that were in dire need of fighting men.

When I received my draft notice in the spring of 1941, I was the ninth draftee from Marshall County to be called to serve. Twenty-seven of us draftees met at the railroad station in Plymouth on the morning of the 14th of April 1941. Our unknown destination was to be the induction center at Ft. Wayne where we were given a thorough physical examination to determine if we were qualified for military duty. After the examination and several shots in the arm, we were sent on to Fort Hayes, Columbus Ohio, for further processing. Here we were issued woolen GI clothing, mostly of World War I vintage and other personal necessities that we might need for our 12-month tour of duty.

After being indoctrinated into the army’s way of doing things and learning a few rules of war, our next journey was aboard a troop train bound for Camp Shelby, Mississippi. Here we were scheduled to join the 38th Division, a National Guard unit from Gary, Indiana that was being activated to bring it up to wartime strength. The country was mobilizing for war!

Upon our arrival at Camp Shelby, I requested to be assigned to the engineers, as I wanted to learn more about building construction and the operation of heavy equipment. I figured that as long as I would be in the army for only one year, I might as well learn something that would do me some good after my obligation to my country had been fulfilled.

I was assigned to Headquarters and Service Company of the 113th Engineers in Camp Shelby. When the company commander learned that I had played a trumpet in my pre-military days, he immediately made me the company bugler. Now, that was the last thing that I wanted to do ¾ blow a bugle! My objections were of no avail. After serving in this capacity for nine months, I requested a transfer to the regimental band. I felt that as long as I had only 3 more months of my enlistment to serve, I might as well do something I enjoy and give up my idea of trying to learn anything while in the army. In November 1941, my transfer to the band was approved.

On December 7th, everything changed! The United States was suddenly and deliberately attacked by the naval and air forces of Japan. This act of aggression plunged the United States into World War II. Now we draftees could see why we were uprooted from our homes and our lives interrupted. There was a purpose for our being in the army. Our country had been attacked and must be defended.

After being a member of the 113th Engineer Regimental Band for a few months, I didn’t care to fight the war blowing my horn and a new opportunity presented itself. In January 1942, a notice appeared on the band bulletin board stating that if an enlisted man had two years of college schooling, he could apply for OCS (Officer Candidate School). I immediately sent in my application and was accepted for training in the Army School of Engineering in April 1942. I was sent to Ft. Belvoir, VA and after enduring the rigors of study and training for 3 months, I became a “90-day wonder” and received a commission as a second lieutenant in the Corps of Engineers in the summer of 1942.

Upon graduation 15 of us newly commissioned 2nd Lieutenants were sent to Camp Shelby, Mississippi to help activate and train the recently formed 350th Engineer General Service Regiment. In those days, the military had a policy of segregation whereby the races were separated into segregated units. The enlisted men in this regiment were black while the officers were white.

After six months of military indoctrination and engineer training, our regiment received orders to ship out to the South Pacific in January 1943. We traveled by Pullman across the southern United States to our port of embarkation, Camp Stoneman, Oakland California and boarded an old Dutch freighter, the “Poleau Laut”. This ship carried our entire outfit consisting of 1220 enlisted men and 52 officers as well as all our engineering equipment including jeeps, dump trucks, bull dozers, road graders, steam shovels and truck mounted air compressors all down in the hold of the old Dutch freighter.

At the time, we didn’t know where we were going and the ship’s captain received our destination orders only after we were a day’s journey out to sea. We only knew that we were going someplace where it was warm. We had turned in all of our winter clothing and replaced with lightweight khaki uniforms.

After traveling a lone, silent, black out, zigzag course across the Pacific for three weeks, we disembarked in February 1943 at the island of Espiritu Santos in the New Hebrides to begin the long, slow trek to Tokyo. Our mission was to construct warehouses, hospitals, unloading docks and roads on the various island bases recaptured from the Japanese as America pressed on toward Japan. When we left the United States and traveling to our unknown destination, we all had mixed emotions as to whether we would ever see the Golden Gate Bridge again. Our country had been attacked and we had a job to do and we were going to do it, no matter what.

The island where we had been sent was in the New Hebrides group just northwest of Australia. The battle for Guadalcanal, just to the north of Santos, was drawing to a successful conclusion. Espiritu Santos had been a French possession prior to the war and the main industry on this island was the cultivation and harvesting of cocoa. Our regiment was bivouacked in a large cocoa bean plantation and we set up our tents between the rows of colorful bean trees. The French plantation owners continued to harvest the crop all during our occupation. It was interesting to watch the natives slicing the huge, moist, bean pods, big as footballs, from the tree trunks and branches of the bean trees and stuffing them into large burlap bags to be hauled to the drying shed. By means of wood fires under a metal screen, the beans were dried and bagged for export to eventually be made into chocolate.

After we were established at “Santos” for several months, I was riding around in my jeep one day and happened to pass by the living quarters of a Navy CB outfit that had preceded us to the island. At the rear of one of the navy enlisted men’s tents, I noticed a screened enclosure containing a few dozen tropical chickens of various parentages. Having been engaged in the poultry business back in the states, I was naturally curious about these birds. I immediately stopped my jeep to investigate and got into conversation with the owner. I explained my interest and inquired if I might purchase a few to enhance my own quarters with some live chickens, as I was getting homesick for the farm. He informed me in no uncertain terms that they weren’t for sale but, if I promised not to eat them, he would give me a couple. It was a deal and I was back in the poultry business with a rooster and two hens.

As soon as I got the birds back to my quarters, I scrounged some feed from the mess sergeant consisting of oatmeal, corn meal and various other crumbled cereals that I thought would be attractive to poultry. In due time the hens started laying eggs in a hollow tree and after a dozen or so had been laid, their maternal instinct took over and they sat on the eggs continuously in order to hatch them.

In three weeks time a flock of tiny chicks emerged. I continued to feed them and they were allowed to run loose around my quarters until the young ones were fryer size. About this time our regiment was split up and my battalion received orders to leave Santos and move north to Munda in the Solomon Islands. The second battalion remained behind on Santos to rejoin us later. After we had been on our new island for a month, the rest of our outfit caught up with us and I asked the recently arrived officers, “What happened to my chickens that I had to leave behind?” They answered by just smacking their lips and grinning. At least I kept my word and didn’t eat them so my conscience was clear.

When we first arrived at Santos, I noticed the dark, moist soil and wondered if vegetables and flowers might grow in this tropical climate. As an experiment, I asked my parents to enclose a few vegetable and flower seeds in the airmail letters we exchanged every week. I needed something to wile away the long, lonely evening hours after our day’s work was done. In their next letter, my folks enclosed some tomato, radish, cucumber and zinnia seeds. In my off duty hours, I spaded up a small patch of fertile soil outside my quarters and started a small garden.

In the warm, moist atmosphere of the tropics, everything grew abundantly. It wouldn’t be long before I would have quite a garden of half grown vegetables and flowers of various kinds. I was never able to stay at one base long enough to harvest the fruits of my labor but I guess someone else enjoyed them. I remember though, the zinnias would grow into huge shrubs and there was a continuous display of color as there was never a frost to curtail their growth. The flowers would bloom and the seeds would just fall down on the moist, fertile soil and start growing again. I can only assume that my zinnias are still growing on a few of the tropical islands in the South Pacific.

We arrived at Munda in the Solomon Islands in the fall of 1943 shortly after the Americans had fought a terrific battle when they drove the Japanese from the island. As soon as we were able, five of us officers toured the battle area in a borrowed jeep in search of souvenirs. Evidences of the hard fought battle were everywhere including the foxholes where the skeletons of grinning Japs were still standing. The stench of death pervaded the area but time and insects had dissolved the flesh from the skeletons as the land was slowly reverting back to the jungle.

I remember the Graves Registration personnel going about their gruesome task of digging up the American GI’s who had fallen in battle. They were to transport their remains to a more permanent resting place on the island. When a battle is in progress, the chaplain and his assistant, accompany the troops and it is their duty to bury the dead as soon as possible right on the spot where they have fallen. An inverted M1 rifle, with a bayonet on one end and a GI helmet on the other, is used to mark the temporary grave along with one of the two dog tags that each soldier must carry. The men recovering the bodies would locate the shallow grave and then gingerly slip their hand underneath the dead body to search for possible unexploded hand grenades that would be fastened around the waist of their fallen comrades.

While I was on Munda, I was assigned to “F” Company whose mission was to provide lumber for the regiment in their various construction projects. We had our own sawmill that was shipped with us when we left the states. The sawmill was set up in the jungle several miles from the main base in order to cut trees that would be free of shrapnel. The tall stately trees consisted mostly of beautiful mahogany that was all of 3 feet in diameter at the base and fifty feet to the first limb. When the logs were transported back to the mill, they had to be gone over with a mine detector in order to locate any pieces of hidden steel shrapnel that could play havoc with the saw blade if not removed. Several times a day the Red Cross would drive out to the cutting area and serve hot coffee and doughnuts to the men which was always appreciated.

There were 3 other officers beside myself in “F” Company so being off in the jungle and away from the rest of the regiment, we had to pass our lonely evening hours the best way we could. It was here that I learned to play contract bridge and found it to be a fascinating card game even to this day.

Soon after arriving at Munda, I began planting numerous seeds around my quarters, as was my custom. The plants did quite well and I had a variety of vegetables coming along in various stages of maturity. One day the commanding general of the base, who was also a gardening enthusiast, strolled by my tent and observed my gardening activities. After consulting with my regimental commander, they inquired if I would be interested in establishing a quartermaster farm on the nearby island of Kolombangara in order to furnish fresh produce to the army hospital on the base. As we had been at Munda for six months or so and just waiting for orders to proceed to New Guinea on our way to Tokyo, I accepted the challenge.

If you remember your history, Kolombangara was the volcanic island off of which President Kennedy’s PT Boat 109 was sliced in half by a speeding Japanese destroyer in the dead of night early in the war. England had owned this island prior to the Japanese invasion and the British planters had established a coconut plantation on a small section of level land. When the Japanese expanded into the South Pacific, they captured this island and built a fighter airfield to protect their larger bomber base at Munda, 5 miles away. It was my mission to farm this abandoned airdrome.

Instead of clearing the jungle with bulldozers, as the Americans would do to make a landing strip, the Japanese just cut the coconut trees flush with the ground in a swath 200 feet wide and several thousand feet long. The trees had been planted in a checkerboard pattern 20 foot X 20 foot and we had to plant our crops between the rows of underground stumps.

I checked the personnel records of the enlisted men of the regiment and located a half dozen who had prior farming experience. In fact one of the men, I discovered, had a college degree in agriculture and had been a county agent prior to being drafted into the army.

From our motor pool I was able to procure a small caterpillar tractor and from another, I scrounged a single bottom moldboard plow. The Red Cross was helpful in obtaining a variety of vegetable seeds from Australia and New Zealand. The US Navy furnished a small landing craft for transportation as the farm was 5 miles away by water. The British loaned the project 16 male natives so we were in business. The natives had their own canoes to go back and forth to their village on a neighboring island. They also brought their own hand tools in the form of hoes, axes and mattocks.

In due course we began sending fresh produce back to the base hospital at Munda. Everything grew profusely because of the mild temperatures and high humidity. In fact it rained a shower or two every day. Our main export was watermelons and I often wondered what the wounded men in the base hospital must have thought when they were served such a perishable delicacy as a slice of ice cold watermelon as they lay recuperating from their war wounds.

When the native helpers first arrived, I asked one of the educated men how do you say, “Don’t plant the seeds too close.” He rattled off something that I couldn’t understand and so I told him he better write it down and he wrote, “ Lopu lete va soku.” The natives would get quite a kick out of me trying to speak their language and they laughed like little kids whenever I tried to converse with them in their native tongue.

The native workers had never tasted watermelons before and they enjoyed them as much as our men did. I demonstrated to them how to dry and save the seeds and then replant them in their own gardens back on their home island. I wonder to this day if the watermelons they are eating on the island of Kolombangara are the descendants of the ones that I introduced to the island in 1944.

In 1945 we made our final move and this was to Hollandia, Dutch New Guinea. Here our job again was to construct warehouses, loading docks, roads and hospitals in preparation for General McArthur’s return to the Philippines. Humbolt Bay was a mass of ships of every description as America’s manufacturing might was getting ready to rectify the indignities of the fall of Corregidor three years earlier.

Hollandia was a huge staging area where thousands of troops were brought together along with their war fighting machinery of every description. The island was soon covered with many roads as the vehicles were being assembled for the next invasion. The bare dusty roads consisted of red clay and the trucks, jeeps and tanks traveling 24 hours a day, soon converted the surface to a red dust that engulfed everything. It was impossible to keep anything clean.

Our regiment anticipated going into the Philippines next but President Truman saved us the trouble when he ordered the atomic bomb dropped on Japan in August 1945 ¾ and ¾ home at last. Our job was finished!

P.S. While I was in the army, I sent home over 300 V-mail, free mail and airmail letters to my parents living in Chicago. My mother presented them to me upon my return in October 1945. I carried this aging box of letters around with me through 50 years of married life, not knowing what to do with them. When I became interested in computers in 1991, I typed all of these letters into my computer as I felt they must be preserved for future generations to learn what my generation went through so they could live the good life they are living today.

The Purdue University Press has published these letters and the title of the book is “Seeds of Hope”. It is available from amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com, borders.com or me.

More of my wartime experiences can be viewed on the Internet by googling Sabel + watermelons.

HOME AT LAST

By William Sabel

The old beat-up Liberty ship carrying us back to the states from Hollandia, Dutch New Guinea arrived in San Francisco Harbor in October 1945. As we descended the ship’s gangplank, there was no cheering crowds, parades or “Welcome Home” ceremonies of any kind. We straggled off of the ship one at a time carrying our few personal belongings. We were just happy to be home at last from the chaos that Hitler had created in Europe in 1939 and the Japanese at Pearl Harbor in 1941.

It took me several weeks to become acclimated to the cool weather after spending the previous 2 ½ years in the South Pacific. Although the San Francisco temperature was in the 60’s and the local populace was running around in shirtsleeves, we recently returned veterans from the tropics, were shivering in spite of adding a few layers of additional clothing.

Our first meal on US soil included gallons and gallons of fresh whole milk that we all craved. It was quite a treat to drink an unlimited amount of that refreshing beverage after so many years of the dehydrated variety. The next day I boarded a train bound for Ft. Sheridan, Ill. which is just outside of Chicago and was the separation center for the mid-west. I was placed on detached service as I had accumulated a number of months of unused leave because of my being overseas 32 months without a break. I didn’t receive my official honorable dis­charge until February 1946.

In the meantime, Leona was on her way home to Bay City, Michigan from her tour of overseas duty in France with the Army Nurse Corps and was passing through Chicago. She wrote and asked me to meet her down­town at the Rock Island Railroad Station. I hadn’t seen her in 5 years so wasn’t prepared for the sight of the neat, trim, uni­formed 1st Lieutenant that greeted me. I was immediately smitten with the feeling that this was the woman that I would love to have with me the rest of my life. We had corresponded off and on for the past twelve years, both when I was on the farm and in the service, so we were pretty well acquainted. The next day I invited her to have lunch with me downtown in the Chicago Loop and popped the question, “Would you marry me and live on the farm?” When she replied with an enthusiastic “Yes”, we stopped at a jewelry store and picked out a ring.

She stayed in Chicago for a few days with her cousin Elaine Johnson before returning to Bay City and we saw each other every night. Elaine’s marriage to my mother’s cousin, Walter Johnson, was how Leona and I first met 12 years previous in 1934. She was 16 years of age at the time and a junior in high school while I was 18 and had just graduated from Morgan Park High School in Chicago. We were paired off in the wedding procession. After Elaine’s wedding ceremony was over, Leona confided to her best friend that she had just met the man she was going to marry. Twelve years and a war interrupted the procedure that was ordained to take place.

We were married in Bay City, Michigan on January 5, 1946 at Immanuel Lutheran Church. As we were both still officially in the army, I suggested that we be married in our army uniforms. On our wedding day, I was resplendent in my officer’s wardrobe and expected my future wife, to be dressed in the same manner. Was I surprised when she came down the aisle on the arm of her step‑father in the traditional flowing, white satin wedding gown that all new brides yearn for!

The following day we headed back to the poultry farm in Indiana to start our new life together. Our traveling vehicle was the red ‘36 Ford pickup truck that had been stored for 5 years in the chicken house awaiting my return. My new wife had not been discharged from the army yet, so after a few days on the farm, it was necessary for her to depart for Ft. Carson, Colorado to be officially discharged from her military duties.

This beautiful and happy marriage of 52 years came to an untimely and unexpected ending on October 16, 1998 when Leona failed to recover from a quadruple by-pass heart operation at St. Elizabeth Hospital in Lafayette. She was loved so much and is missed by so many, especially by her devastated husband.

JUNGLE TRAILS

By William Sabel

While I was supervising the vegetable farm on Kolombangara in the South Pacific during WWII, my younger brother Ed, back home in Chicago, would send letters asking if I could find some Japanese souvenirs and send them home to him. One Saturday morning when we weren’t working, I decided it was time to satisfy his request.

The majority of the natives working on the farm were Seven Day Adventists. At least they claimed they were. Maybe they proposed to be of that faith, just to get out of working on Saturdays. Personally, I thought they were “wicked” meaning they had no religion at all. But anyway, I asked one of the native helpers if anyone knew the trails into the jungle. One of the men (through the interpreter) said that he had lived on the island before the Japanese invasion so he led the way and we went exploring. I had hoped to find an area that hadn’t already been picked over by previous souvenir hunters but we weren’t so lucky. Some one had already beaten us to the best of them and what was left was junk that no one wanted.

When we started out into the jungle, I thought there would be only one or two of us but when we assembled, all 16 of the natives came along. They were armed with machetes, hatchets and knives and I had my pistol. There was some doubt amongst the authorities as to the total absence of Japanese on the island so I was glad they all wanted to join the safari. Neither the natives nor I cared to take any chances. We figured there was safety in numbers.

We cut across the coconut plantation and headed into the jungle following a Japanese trail. These trails were narrow, single-track walkways and built like a corduroy road using the coconut tree logs when they built the airfield. Because the trails were heavily traveled, they cut the coconut logs into two-foot lengths and laid them side-by-side to make the trail. I guess they did this to keep out of the mud during the rainy season. They must have had a lot of coolie labor available, as there were miles and miles of these corduroy trails through out the jungle.

They apparently carried all their supplies and guns by hand as there was no sign of wheeled vehicles being used in these trails. Close to the edges of the jungle however, there were numerous two wheeled, rubber-tired handcarts. They were used to transport 50-gallon steel drums of gas, oil and water. Every half mile or so along the trail were evidences of a Japanese outpost or gun position guarding the route. Close by would be their living quarters. They didn’t have very many conveniences for comfortable living as it looked like they slept on the log floor that had been raised a foot or two off the ground. The huts were built of rough timber posts and logs with either a leaf-thatched or galvanized metal roof. Blankets could be seen rotting on the floor and scraps of mosquito netting were hanging from the ceiling.

Here and there, we would find the remains of a decaying kitchen area. The Japs had nothing like our army gasoline stoves for cooking purposes. They improvised their stoves from steel drums cut in half. Inside this stove was a huge iron kettle about two feet in diameter. Wood was used for fuel and neatly stacked over the stove for drying. A few cans of food could be seen scattered about but their main dish was rice. Quite a few cloth bags were lying around bursting with rotting rice.

After hiking about 5 miles or so, we came upon a white porcelain bathtub that was probably the luxury of one of the Japanese officers. The men must have had quite a time carrying this heavy, burdensome thing through the narrow twisting jungle trails. The tub also had a hand pump for filling from a nearby stream. I guess they had to take cold-water baths, as there was no sign of a hot water heater anywhere.

All in all we hiked about 7 miles that day and due to my easy job, I wasn’t in the best of physical condition. After the first ten minutes on the trail, my shirt was wringing wet and the perspiration kept running down in my eyes.

I did find a few souvenirs though, that I sent home to my little brother and I still have them. One was a one-foot section of a 3” bamboo tree that had been used to carry the soldier’s ration of rice. It had a hole bored in the side at one end and closed with a wooden plug. I also have a couple of beat-up Japanese mess kits that had been used to cook rice over a campfire as evidenced by their blackened exterior. I also was able to find a metal helmet I sent home along with my most prized possession¾a Japanese rifle complete with a bayonet and scabbard. I didn’t find this though ¾ it cost me a quart of gin! I traded the booze for the rifle with a Marine back at Munda.

The natives were paid for their farm labor by the British government and soon leaned the value of the American dollar and what it could buy at the Army PX’s. One of the natives had a Japanese warrior’s Rising Sun flag that each soldier carries into battle. The flag was supposed to protect him from harm and was autographed with Japanese characters by his family and neighbors when he went off to war. The purchase price was $5.00 and is another of my prized war relics.

Some war-weary American GI’s soon leaned how to capitalize on the late coming troop’s eagerness for Japanese souvenirs. They cut white bed sheets into 2 foot by 3-foot flags and painted a red circle in the middle. Around the outside, they scrawled Japanese language characters they copied from the many boxes laying around the battlefield. Later when these were translated they read, “Fresh Fish” and “40 mm. Artillery Shells”. The gullible latecomers were eager to pay upwards of $25.00 for these supposedly authentic Japanese war flags.

Charles W. Pearson

This was written by Lt. Pearson's family member and originally appearing on this site: http://spiritbay.yolasite.com/lieutenant-pearson.php

My grandfather, Charles W. Pearson, was a man that everyone loved dearly. He served the Allied Forces in WWII, taking after his own father, William Pearson, who fought in WWI. For years I had always wondered about his campaign in Europe and what he must have gone through. He never would tell us, but after having gone through the history books and notes I now have a very good idea:

WWII begins in 1939 after Nazi Germany attacked Poland.

April, 1941- Charles joined the 48th Highlanders (I Wing) of Toronto, as it was clear that Britain was in trouble and the war would not be over soon. His regimental private # was B 75014. By Oct., 1941 he was an acting Corporal.

May 8- Sept. 29, 1941- Canadian armies were tactically training across the nation, from Nanaimo to Gander, Nfld. Major training in Nfld. was also partly with USA Armies. Sports programs were a major part of the training.

Jan., 1943- Charles joined the Brockville Officer School to become a lieutenant. By May, 1943 he was at Camp Borden.

July, 1943- The first wave of our armies headed to Nova Scotia and on to England where they continually trained at Fleet and New Hunstanton.

Sept, 1943- Charles made rounds with a platoon of men in Simcoe, Ontario.

Dec, 1943- Charles was in the UK at Crowborough Common with the Lincoln and Welland Regiment (The Lincs). He began sending parcels and letters back home to his wife, Winnifred, and his daughter, Judith, my mother. Major military practice battles were held around England and Scotland for months. Games of softball were played between regiments and companies. Other activities included: 10+ mile marches, how-to handle POWs, concerts and seminars on how-to prevent VD. A few fatal, accidental vehicle collisions occurred. One enemy plane crashed into the buildings killing some of The Lincs. Soon, however, the real battle was about to begin.

June 6, 1944- D-Day had begun a month earlier in the largest sea to land assault in mankind's history, with over 160,000 troops landing. Canadian 3rd Division and 2nd Armored Brigade landed on D-Day as part of 1st British Corp. 1st Canadian Army, under Gen. Crerar, landed by mid-July. They were international in character. In addition to 3 Canadian divisions it had a Polish Division, a British Corps, and sometimes American, Belgian and Dutch troops under its control.

July 18, 1944- The Lincoln and Welland Regiment (Lincs), to which Charles will eventually be re-connected, had landed in Normandy aboard 65 ships. The Lincs were part of the 10th Canadian Infantry Brigade, a part of the 4th Canadian Armoured Division. Other regiments included in its ranks were : The Argylls, Algonquins, Lorne Scots, Lake Superiors, S. Albertans, GG's Foot Guards, Grenadiers, New Brunswick Rangers and the BC regiment. After landing in France in July 1944, the regiment formed part of II Canadian Corp's "long left flank" of the Allied advance. In Normandy, they took Tilly, Bourgebus, Butcher Hill (all bloodbaths involving hand-to-hand combat), and part of the infamous Falaise Gap in Operation TOTALIZE, where the Allies were involved in large armoured battles.

Soldiers often went on without sleep or washing. When they could sleep they would find any place they could to lay their heads- this sometimes included digging a slit trench with gun in hand.

The plan was that the Canadians were to work alongside the Polish and British Army from a distance. Eventually the Americans were also to join up with all three, coming from the south, after they had devastated many of the top armies of the Third Reich. The final assault in later months would occur all along the Western Front into Germany. They were all to meet fierce pockets of German resistance, as well as having to disarm land mines, and deal with horrible, muddy advances. The Canadians were to take every German stronghold objective on their march north-east. Often the Germans (aka "The Jerries") were on the run, but as stated before, some intense pockets cost the lives of many of the brave Canadians along the way. For more details let's get back to the story.

August 1944- Heading for the Belgian border, the Canadians drove through the grateful French town of Bernay, where the crowds cheered day and night. Young female collaborators were not treated so nicely: they got their heads shaved and some were hung in public. The Belgian port of Antwerp was crucial for bringing in supplies. The British took the port by Sept. 5, 1944. The war was now at its height and this is where my grandad entered the European continent for battle. By this point the Allies were destroying the German supply lines making fighting back that much harder. Charles was part of the next wave of recruits to join up with the Lincs.

* Sept. 6, 1944- Charles joins the Lincs as one of four officers in charge of A Company, as their march across the Somme continued at a French village called Yaucourt-Bussus, near Abbeville. From the 3rd on they rested up, but were ordered on for the next big assault. The plan was for the 4th Canadian Armoured Div. to advance across Belgium to Holland, with the 10th Canadian Infantry to be responsible for the Belgian city of Eeeklo. On Sept. 7 they were across the border. On Sept. 11 A Coy moved to Moerbrugge on carriers, supported by tanks. They came under heavy machine gun fire, pinning them down. Enemy snipers worked from homes and Mj. Baldwin was hit. B Coy was sent up and both fought forward to Lekkerhoek. Jerry POW's were taken. At night The Lincs were still being shelled, but they still moved across the Ghent Canal, where they set up bridgeheads. The Lincs made it to Eeklo by Sept. 15th and liberated the area to the joy of its residents. As they entered one side of the town the Jerries were on the other side of town evacuating. Next, the men took a 3 week break at Maldegam to reorganize. Some days involved endless shelling here, but the drive to Holland was on.

Oct. 25, 1944- Now inside the Dutch border an attack was set on Wouwsche Plantage with the Lake Superiors on Oct. 25. "The battle for this town was bitterly fought, against the Herman Goering Division, and was won at a cost of heavy casualties: the fighting was made even worse by reason of the enemy's use of a Sherman tank which he had captured." The battle was won and Major McCutcheon was awarded the Military Cross.

A relative newcomer to battle, Charles still had to get accustomed to the deafening noise of the modern German and Allied artillery. Soon after, Charles and his crew were set to move through Holland where the worst of the fighting was yet to occur.

Oct. 27, 1944- Christmas - In Oct., Charles was listed in the war diaries as being an Intelligence Officer at Battalian Headquarters. The Germans were surrendering en masse during Operation SUITCASE. Some Canadians ended up being POW's as well. Flamethrowers were common artillery on both sides by this point. The Canadians liberated the famous town of Bergen Op Zoom. The Lincs had 38 casualties on the last 2 days of the liberation. Despite losing their friends some rested up, and some celebrated by partying and watching movies in town.

One story of note involves a group of Canadians and Germans in a street fight. While chasing each other around huge factory full of toxic chemicals with guns loaded, and excess use of grenades, they both ended up at a wall, with both groups on either side. The Jerries called their enemy "Canadian swine", while the Canadians taunted the Germans by calling them "bastards", daring them to come and meet their knives. The Canadians were totally outnumbered, but the fight lasted throughout the night. (For in depth coverage of this and all the battles the Linc's fought read brave Sgt. Kipp's "Because We are Canadians". He was involved in this life or death fight in the factory).

Some Dutch, meanwhile, were caught alerting the enemy with light signals at night. They were interrogated and put in POW cages.

These days brought intense fighting with guns and shell fire, but the Battle of the Scheldt was over by Nov. 8th. Nov. 29 was a cold, clear day for the troops training. Lts. Dunlop and Pearson had reconnaissanced the area for training grounds. The Lincs organized a Christmas party for 500 Dutch children on Dec. 6 while German V1 missiles often flew overhead and landed nearby. By this time, troops were billeted in local Dutch homes.

Dec. 16- Jan. 25 - The massive and epic Battle of the Bulge in the Ardennes began. Here, the Allies (800,000 men) took on the German offensive (500,00 men) in this decisive battle won by the Allies. The Canadians were supposed to be the ones to meet the Germans, but due to the decimation of their numbers at this point in the war, the Americans had to do most of the work.

The Lincs knew, however, that the war would still have to carry on past Christmas: a slower war was better than a fast one that would cost more lives. The men were billeted by the locals. On Jan. 20 Lt. Pearson and Sgt. Skelding reeced a route to Waspick and The Masse River for their next big campaign.

Hell Occurs Jan. 26- Jan.31, 1945- The climax of the Lincs campaign took place next in their personal Hell known as Kapelsche Veer (Operation ELEPHANT). The Maas River in central Holland was key to the Allies. The Canadians had made many attempts crossing north. They would often do night crossings in small boats, which proved annoying due to the wide expanse. The men would often end up back on the side they started from because they got turned around without even knowing it. POW's were taken on both sides and held for questioning to get an idea of what the other side was up to. Kapelsche Veer was an island stronghold in this river. The 1st Polish Armoured and the 47th Royal Marines tried in vain to take it and suffered greatly. The Lincs were given the job on Jan. 26th. It turned out to be their worst day of the entire war. On day one they lost 113 men, despite the huge artillery support offered by other Polish, British and Canadian regiments. One bomber mission was offered by Spitfires.

The Lincs had trained for a week prior to the invasion. Special canoes were brought in from Peterborough, ON. The commanding officers knew the campaign would prove costly, and it also seemed pointless. Even men in the regiment who were cooks or clerks, who had never even been trained to use a gun before, were called up to take part in this horrific experience. The Lincs were given flamethrowers, which were of little help because they made soldiers sitting ducks due to the slow advance made when carrying and using them. This was made even worse by the cold, damp conditions of winter after being made to wade/swim in the icy river. Many of the troops suffered through intense frostbite. The Lincs A, B and C companies made the attack, while D company stayed at Capelle as reinforcements. Every officer in A and C were casualties. B reached their objective. D reinforced B and was to pass B. They came under heavy bombardment and dug in 600 yards from their objective. D only had one tank, but managed to inch forward while still under heavy mortaring at 200 yards. Officers Dickie, Armstrong, Slater, Smith, Snake, Thorne and the infamous Major Lambert were killed.

The Lincs tried daily to complete the task in the rain and snow, until they finally succeeded. By this time, their white, camouflaged snow suits were bloodstained. The 8th Polish Army took over and relieved them. In the 6 day battle the Lincs had a total of 249 casualties after starting with about 300 men. With 6 of their own officers now dead they still managed to take control of their objective. (The Germans apparently tossed many of their own dead into the river).

Operation BLOCKBUSTER- As the Canadians headed east toward Germany they took time to take on new reinforcements, train them, bring them together as a unit and get them ready for battle. The previous aforementioned battle had really wiped them out. The Canadians, British and Americans were all about the meet up as they headed for the huge Western Front offensive across the Dutch border into Germany and on to the Rhine River (Rhineland). The winter thaw was in full affect and the ground was very wet and muddy, which affected the advance by roads. With the Lincs now in Germany, what happened next must have been one of Charles' most terrifying experiences.

The Lincs and the rest of their Canadian regimental buddies made it to the Hochwald Forest gap, just east of Udem. On Feb. 27, 1945 the Algonquins, Argylls and Lincs were to take the area. Field Marshall Montgomery claimed this time to be the heaviest enemy fire on the entire western front throughout the whole war experienced by the British and Canadians. The Lincs moved off at 8 pm and by 6 am the next morning (the 28th) were on the western edge of the gap, minus the squad of tanks that were with them previously. Most got stuck in the mud. Taking the railway was key. The Argylls were getting barraged that morning and suffering many casualties. In the open space there was great confusion because the enemy fire did not let up long enough to allow movement. During that morning tanks from the BC Regiment came to help the Lincs B and C Companies in their attacks. The tanks got stuck in the mud again. By midday, B and C of the Lincs continued attacking and moved into the woods. Then all of a sudden the "sky closed in as the enemy unleashed a massive artillery barrage of artillery, rocket-projectors and mortars". The projectiles landed in the treetops, under which the companies (B and C) were passing, causing airbursts that inflicted many casualties. They had to stop the attack and head back for their trenches they'd occupied during morning. Major Crummer of C Company recounts the horror,

"We were in the middle of it, standing, trying to push forward. Well, we didn't stand long. We went to ground damn fast. You just lose everything. You can't do anything about that... You really hunker down and pray to God that you come out of it all right, because you can`t do anything for anyone, really. You look around and see if anybody is wounded and help them, but I didn`t see anybody. They were all pretty well experienced and had found rat holes or something like that ... I think at that point, I was buried a couple of times and got out of it. The area was mud, just mud . I remember hearing the shelling and then after a while I didn`t hear anything, but I saw it ... I remember the huge explosions all over the damn place. At that time I crawled under a tank to get away from some fire and I could sense the tank settling down in the mud, so I got the hell out of there . There was no cover. Trees are no cover, especially in shelling because you get limbs and you get shrapnel coming down on you. We didn`t get any further than that." http://www.canadianheroes.org/loren/hochwald.htm

An Argyll wrote, "a black haze hung over the place after the shelling stopped...while a sudden, unreal quiet descended, only broken by the feeble cries of the wounded."

The Lincs had suffered 49 casualties that day; 85 the previous 3 days. One German officer recalled that he was amazed the Canadians didn't spread out and attack, as opposed to directing their attention in the gap. He felt, the Canadians would have won the battle sooner if they had spread out.

I received this recently, "My name is Randy Barkman. My father fought with Charles Pearson and was a fellow officer. Lt (later Capt) W. H. Barkman is mentioned in your documents (pictures) many times. He also trained to be an officer at Camp Borden and Brockville. It seems he was wounded (in the Hochwald Forest) Feb. 28, 1945 the day before Lt. Pearson was also wounded. That was from shrapnel bouncing in the trees from the Siegfried Line. He remembered a new recruit running up to him in the forest with his arm blown off, so happy was he that he would now be able to leave the war."

* The Next Day March 1,1945 Charles Gets Hit- The Lincs were relieved by the Saskatchewan Regiment that morning and retired to farms at the bluffs east of Uden to regroup. They were still close enough to the front to receive heavy enemy shelling fire. That afternoon 8 more Lincs were injured. Sure enough 8 are listed in the history books and one of them was Charles Pearson. He was hit by shrapnel in his left, upper thigh. To see a modern Google Earth map of the area in which Charles was hit go here. The Lincs stayed at the farms until Mar. 2, and in the area until the 12th when they took Veen. From Feb. 26- Mar.10, 1945, the 10th Infantry Brigade had lost more men than at any other time (754 casualties).

Operation HAYMAKER- The Canadians pulled back across the border into Holland to regroup and take on new enlistments after their recent losses. Before heading back into Germany, a group of men from the Lincs went to check out a suitable base at a castle near Almelo, the German administrative centre in Holland. Here they found a Nazi official had shot himself, his wife and his baby daughter. They found the child in the arms of her mother.

Then they headed northward, back into Germany for the final takeover on Mar. 28. The Allies all met up for campaigns and completely devastated Germany. No country in history had ever been so flattened by bombardment and surrender. (Only ignorant Germans fought on, with little realization that they were defeated: these included the Hitler Youth conscripts). On the Western Front alone, the Allies had a POW count of an astounding 1,000,000. Adolph Hitler had committed suicide on Apr. 30 as the Russians and Poles took Berlin. Between Mar. 30- May 5, 1945, the Lincs had suffered POW losses of their own, plus many more killed in action and a very large amount of men wounded (around 300) .

From this point on fraternizing with German civilians was not allowed, in order to let the Germans know they were a defeated people. For more about this period of the war for Canadians (with awesome photos) go to: http://wwii.ca/content-55/world-war-ii/the-capitulation-of-germany/

Victory and Homeward Bound- The Allies continued on into Germany, and by May 8 "Victory in Europe" was complete. The Lincs had stationed themselves west of Oldenburg, Germany. The grueling last 3 weeks had been marred by angry feelings that the war had not ended sooner, and because of the constant sniper fire they had to worry about daily. Their war did not end in a major battle; it just petered out. Still, the joys of celebration were felt across the allied front. Their hell was over. (Of the 1,000,000 Canadian men that served overseas, 40,000 lost their lives).

May 13 saw Lt. Col. Coleman discuss the proper behavior he wanted from the regiment, citing rumored incidents of rape and disorder, which may have occurred within some ranks of the Canadian Army. May 16 saw The Lincs policing Oldenburg.

By May 27 they were back in Holland. Many parades, activities, sports meets and speeches of thanks were offered during this period. By summer many were returning home. Charles spent July in the major cities of Belgium with other officers like Major Sharpe, Gordon Beardmore, Ken Fisher and Sgt. Lawrence.

Charles stayed on in Europe and was listed as being in the army here until Nov. 27th, 1945. On Nov. 10 he made a phone call home from Huizen, Holland. By Dec. he was on the HMS Puncher, an aircraft carrier, that landed in Halifax.

He made it home in Toronto on Christmas Eve. His wife, Winnifred, and my mother, Judith (then 5 yrs old) waited for him at the CNE grounds. My mom went running for him and hugged the first man she saw with a moustache: unfortunately, she went for the wrong man. The final remnants of the army had returned to Canada by Feb. 15, 1946.

The Final Procession- On Jan. 29, 1946, some of the Lincoln and Welland regiment returned to St. Catharines by train for a final marching procession to much fanfare on the streets of the city. My grandad was picked up in Toronto on the train's way to St. Catharines. Of the 376 soldiers and 29 officers who marched that day, only 22 soldiers and 3 officers were left from those who 1st enlisted in 1940. In total, the Lincs had suffered a total of 1548 casualties after their landings in Normandy. Lt. Colonel Swayze concluded his final farewell remarks at the municipal building: "Pray God that this Battalion, or any other, will never be called to active service again." Everyone agreed. My grandpa went home to be with his wife and my mother that night back in Scarborough. He remained with the regiment and was officially discharged to civilian status on Mar. 9, 1946.

 

The Hospital Years That Followed- For years Charles volunteered at the Scarborough Hospital. He was the most cherished of the volunteers and was always there no matter what- even after his long bouts of pneumonia. He was honoured with an award. He was always telling his war stories and waxed with pride when he noted he was often the only man in a crowded room full of younger women.

The Return to the Battlefront (1995)- In 1995, the 50th reunion event occurred across Europe. My grandad was asked to join other Canadian war vets in celebrations held in The Netherlands. The event was televised on CBC tv for a week. On the 1st day of tv viewing we spotted Charles waving in the stands, which made us very proud. The Dutch children came out in waves to cheer on their Canadian liberators from a long ago generation. One young person said, "They are not strangers to us; they belong to us; they are our liberators". The celebrations occurred throughout the nation. The saddest memories were reserved for ceremonies at Canada's war cemetery at Groesbeek near the German border. 2400 are buried here.

Grandpa was sorely missed by all on Jan. 2000 when he passed away.

Important Notes:

* In 1945, five men of the Battalion were declared missing in action and presumed dead after the battle of Kapelsche Veer. During construction work in 2000 and 2001, the bodies of three men were uncovered and the Regiment sent burial parties to their interment in a cemetery near Bergen-op-Zoom.

* Westerbork, Netherlands was the site where 102,000 Dutch Jews and Gypsies were shipped to Nazi death camps. One of these was Anne Frank.

* To see all the photos of Charles at war and at the hospital go to my facebook link (make sure you are logged in 1st): http://www.facebook.com/media/set/fbx/?set=a.10150547478495512.654539.589115511

* To read poems written by the daughter of the Lincs' Jim Alexander about his war recollections go here: Shrapnel: Tales of a Soldier Dad

* To learn about real accounts of the horrors of life on the WWII battlefields, and disturbing truths about the Lincs and the Canadian Army get Sergeant Kipp's book via inter-library loan: "Because We are Canadians". Kipp and Alexander were friends and both great soldiers.

* Here is my friend, Tracy Lovejoy's, grandfather's recollections of the war at this link here.

Ed Hirsch

Edward J. Hirsch

November 5, 1921-January 4, 2011

U.S. Army, 1942-46

WWII—Europe

Prologue: When Edward J. Hirsch recently died, his estate included some items that he brought home from Europe after the war. Many if not most of these items are “Nazi” items. It is not known precisely how he acquired these items, but since he was in the midst of significant battle areas the family assumes that he simply acquired the items as souveniers as the Allies pressed forward into Germany, and perhaps after the war was won. All of the items remained in a box stored in his various family homes in Lincoln, Nebraska, and then were taken by his son as trustee of his personal trust to be simply stored when Mr. Hirsch moved into an assisted living residence in 2008. Upon his death, the son decided that the items should be disposed of, preferably to educators or others involved in keeping the memory of this horrible war and the Allied victory alive.

Pre-War: Edward J. Hirsch was the only child of Edward (NMI) Hirsch and a homemaker, Amelia Hirsch, and was born in Lincoln, Nebraska. His father was a member of the U.S. Forces in WWI in Europe. Remarkably, his father was born in Frank, Russia of German heritage, and the father was one of many, many “Germans from Russia” who migrated in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, and settled in the Lincoln, Nebraska area. His mother was also a full-blooded German who also was the child of Germans from Russia, but was born in Lincoln.

Most significantly, for WWII purposes, German was spoken extensively in the home, and Edward J. Hirsch became very fluent in the language while he was growing up.

Mr. Hirsch graduated from Lincoln (Nebraska) High School in 1939, and entered the University of Nebraska in Lincoln with the goal of acquiring a degree in journalism.

Enlistment: When war broke out in December, 1941, Mr. Hirsch completed his third year of college and enlisted in the U.S. Army in August, 1942 with the goal of becoming a medic. He was attached as a medic to the First Calvery Division at Ft. Bliss, in El Paso, Texas. As a medic, it occurred to Mr. Hirsch, who at that time was 5′6” and weighed 135 lbs., that he would be severely challenged trying to carry soldiers on litters. He terminated his plans to be a medic, and applied for Officer Candidate School in artillery school. He was accepted into OCS and underwent training at Ft. Sill, Oklahoma, where he was ranked second for “leadership qualities” in his training group. Upon completion of training, he was assigned to a newly formed unit, 281st Field Artillery Battalion, which then trained at Camp Cooke, near Lompac, California.

War Experiences: 2nd Lt. Hirsch was shipped to Liverpool, England in November, 1944 on a Victory Ship, which was part of a large convoy that zig-zagged across the Atlantic to avoid German submarines. For three months his battalion was billeted among the Welsh people at Denbigh, Wales. In February, 1945, the battalion crossed the English Channel at Le Havre, France. It then travelled through France and Belgium to Western Germany, and then engaged the German forces at a time when the German army was retreating, and the Allies were attempting to keep up the pressure.

Due to his ability to converse in German, Lt. Hirsch was in the very front portion of the battalion; he and his driver moved frequently in a jeep as the Germans retreated. Lt. Hirsch was charged with locating the best Howitzer placements in the countryside, and locating billeting quarters for the officers in German homes, where his German-speaking ability was very helpful. Since he was part of the front of the advancing forces, Lt. Hirsch’s assignment for gun placements was very dangerous, subjecting him and his driver to rear action sniping and other confrontations by the retreating German army.

Lt. Hirsch would converse with residents of homes identified for billeting, and received respect from the residents, mostly women, when they learned that his name was “Hirsch” (which means “stag” in German) and spoke their language. He informed the residents that they would have to leave for an evening, and then identified objects in their homes that they should take with them to save them from Allied looters. The next day he repeated the exercise.

Remagen: Lt. Hirsch was most proud of his participation in the fighting at Remagen, Germany—a significant event during the pressure the Allies were forcing on the Germans. As the advancing Allies approached the Rhine River, major challenges faced them in finding a crossing point. The Germans were sworn by Hitler to prevent any crossing of the Rhine, and the German army was detonating bridges to prevent that crossing. The Germans, however, bungled the destruction of the Ludendorff Bridge near the town of Remagen, Germany; to Americans, it became known as The Remagen Bridge. Its capture has been memorialized in a book “The Bridge at Remagen” by Ken Hechler (Ballantine Books, 1957) and a movie by the same name. The bridge was captured on March 7th, 1945 and Lt. Hirsch arrived on March 8th as part of the advance forces of his battalion.

Lt. Hirsch and ten enlisted men were directed across the Rhine (on a pontoon bridge quickly set up in 10 hours to substitute for the heavily damaged, but not yet destroyed Ludendorff Bridge) to Linz, to secure a large German hospital. Lt. Hirsch was the youngest officer and the only single one at the time, thus he was selected for this assignment. The hospital continued to be used, and German medical personnel were kept on the premises to render aid to wounded German soldiers brought to the hospital by Americans. There were numerous amputations, and Lt. Hirsch recalls seeing amputated legs stacked neatly, like cord wood, behind the hospital. Lt. Hirsch was able to communicate with German officers and others at the hospital. Germans “sniped” at U.S. gun placements from the hospital.

Lt Hirsch was in charge of the hospital for two weeks, from March 8/9 to around March 22, 1945.

Fighting in the area remained intense, since Hitler concentrated on destroying the Ludendorff Bridge. Artillery rounds and V-2 rockets were fired at the bridge, but were unsuccessful in hitting it due to the topography. A German “jet” airplane was sent to the area in an effort to destroy the bridge, and its speed prevented the Allies from hitting it. There were a number of American casualties resulting from falling ordinance fired at the “jet”. Lt. Hirsch observed that official reports stated that this area saw the heaviest concentration of anti-aircraft guns during the entire war.

Efforts to destroy the bridge were unsuccessful. However, Lt. Hirsch was in his office in the hospital at Linz and had a view of the bridge. He just turned away for a second, and then looked back to see that the bridge had collapsed, killing 28 Americans and injuring 63 who were trying to restore it.

When General Eisenhower came to inspect the area, Lt. Hirsch was privileged to personally salute him as his motorcade passed. (General Eisenhower devotes a chapter, “Crossing the Rhine” in his book, “Crusade in Europe”, to Remagen and the fighting in the Saar region, but does not state when he personally crossed it himself, presumably over the pontoon bridge. While he addresses the collapse of the bridge, he does not state that he personally witnessed the collapse.) Considering the time frames, General Eisenhower probably came through the area around March 18-22.

It is possible, although not positively known, that Lt. Hirsch may have acquired many of his “Nazi” souveniers during his assignment at the hospital.

Post-Remagen: After two weeks as commander at the Linz hospital, Lt. Hirsch rejoined his battalion, which had been transferred from the First Army to Gen. George Patton’s Third Army in the south. He was part of a convoy of tanks, infantry and artillery that pursued the German army through Bavaria. He was in Bavaria as part of the advancing army in early May, when the forces were ordered to pull off the road and stop where they were. Word came down the line that the German army had surrendered.

The battalion and others were moved to a 15th Century castle at Kipfenberg between Munich and Nuernberg for training and eventual transfer to the Pacific Theater, but the war ended prior to transfer.

Lt. Hirsch was then assigned as Special Service Officer of the 53rd Quartermaster Base Depot; he became the Public Relations Officer, and founded the newspaper “The Wheel and Eagle” to serve the unit. The family speculates that he may have acquired some souvenier items at this time. In May, 1946 he was ordered to take a company of American soldiers—all black—back to the U.S. on a troop ship. He was honorably discharged with the rank of Captain in May, 1946.