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Part Five
I requested that I be
allowed to participate in the Normandy Invasion, which was given the code
name “Operation Overlord.” What I had encountered in France and Germany
during my missions up to that point was enough to make me want to be a part
of the “elimination of Nazi tyranny,” and I am certain that anyone else who
loves freedom would have felt the same way. I did have some knowledge of the
area, which was designated as Utah Beach, as well as the towns of St. Lo,
St. Mère Église, and the area surrounding these two towns.
It was decided I would go in
with the 42nd Field Artillery Battalion, the unit I had originally been
assigned to. I spent thirty days training with the 42nd, whose artillery
consisted of M7 self-propelled artillery tanks. These tanks were completely
open on top and had a crew of seven. The armament consisted of a 105mm
Howitzer and 50-caliber machine guns. These M7s would pull into a designated
area, camouflage their position and fire at targets called to them by
forward observers on the ground and in the air.
There were four tanks in
each company, and three companies—A, B and C—plus a headquarters company in
each battalion. Each company had its own support vehicles, and an entire
company—about eighty men, tanks and support vehicles—went onto a Landing
Craft Tank, or LCT, which loaded and unloaded from the front. A man named
Higgins designed and manufactured the various landing craft used in both the
European and Pacific theaters in his plant in New Orleans. Without these, I
doubt the invasion of Europe could ever have been attempted as early as
1944.
The initial crossing was set
for June 5, 1944—or at least that was what the naval officer in charge of
our LCT told us. We were all on landing craft in the harbor some seventy-two
hours before Eisenhower gave the command to go. This, in itself, was more of
a hardship than you can imagine. Four tanks and support vehicles, which
included a six by six truck, several jeeps and a command car, along with
eighty soldiers in full combat dress, were crammed on to the deck of an LCT
that was twenty feet wide by thirty-five feet long. We ate, slept, used one
head (bathroom) and did various calisthenics in order to keep from getting
on each other’s nerves and going crazy.
The weather on June 3rd, 4th
and 5th was very bad, and the English Channel had waves that seemed at least
twelve feet high. On the night of June 4th we left the harbor, went halfway
across the Channel and then turned back. I later found out that this was
originally supposed to have been the invasion date, but that they had
canceled it because the weather was so bad. Finally, on June 5th, somewhere
around midnight, we were called to attention and then told to stand “at
ease.” Over the loud speakers we heard General Eisenhower’s voice with the
following message:
Soldiers, Sailors and
Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Forces: You are about to embark upon
the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. The
eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving
people everywhere march with you. In company with our brave Allies and
brothers-in-arms on other Fronts you will bring about the destruction of
the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over oppressed
peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world.
Your task will not be an
easy one. Your enemy is well trained, well equipped and battle-hardened.
He will fight savagely.
But this is the year
1944! Much has happened since the Nazi triumphs of 1940-41. The United
Nations have inflicted upon the Germans great defeats, in open battle,
man-to-man. Our air offensive has seriously reduced their strength in
the air and their capacity to wage war on the ground. Our Home Fronts
have given us an overwhelming superiority in weapons and munitions of
war, and placed at our disposal great reserves of trained fighting men.
The tide has turned! The free men of the world are marching together to
Victory!
I have full confidence
in your courage, devotion to duty and skill in battle. We will accept
nothing less than full victory!
Good Luck! And let us
all beseech the blessing of Almighty God upon this great and noble
undertaking.
During the entire address,
no one moved or spoke a word, as we all listened intently to General
Eisenhower’s message. The silence continued for a full thirty seconds, and
then everyone let out a cheer. We were finally on our way.
Right after Eisenhower’s
address, the orders were given to move out and we joined a gigantic
formation comprised of every type of warship and landing craft that existed
at the time. Our landing on Utah Beach was to be at 7:30AM, June 6, 1944. We
were part of the 2nd wave, with the infantry, regular tanks and other
special units making up the first wave at 7AM.
As the dawn broke, I was
standing in a crouched position, trying to shield myself from shrapnel being
propelled from the exploding German shells. I could not help but marvel at
all the ships, and especially the big battleships with the bursts of fire
from their sixteen-inch guns as they hurled shell after shell at the German
defense positions. Even more impressive, because it gave me a good feeling
of the Allied air dominance, was wave after wave of Allied bombers dropping
tons of bombs on all of the German coastal positions. During the entire
landing operation I saw only one German fighter plane, and he wasn’t around
that long. In fact, one of the most reassuring sights throughout the war was
seeing our bombers or fighter planes overhead—except, of course, on those
occasions when I was with German troops and part of one of their targets.
The landing was pretty much
as portrayed in the films Saving Private Ryan and The Longest Day.
The Channel was still rough and most of us were more than willing to take
our chances on the beach. Our LCT stopped within seventy-five yards of Utah
Beach and put down the unloading ramp. I know the navy would have brought us
in closer, but with the load they were carrying, they did good to get us in
as close as they did. The tanks and other vehicles rolled down the ramp and
were almost completely immersed in water. Thanks to the way they were
waterproofed, though, a majority of them made it to the beach. Initially,
only the heads of the soldiers showed above the tank or vehicle in which
they were riding. Some of the soldiers, including me, waded in, jumping up
every few steps to breathe in some air, while others grabbed onto the first
tank or vehicle within arm’s length in an effort to reach the beach as fast
as possible.
Every soldier was carrying a
full combat pack, a carbine rifle, and enough C and K rations and ammunition
to last, or so we hoped, until the mess and supply trucks caught up with the
battalion. While most of the officers and some of the sergeants wore side
arms, they also carried a carbine rifle along with their backpacks,
ammunition and everything else. Once the tanks and other vehicles made it to
the beach, they did their best to dodge the German 88mm shells and machine
gun fire, and, at the same time, move forward, trying to get off the beach
as fast as possible.
We were about thirty yards
from the beach when a German shell hit the water in front of us, killing the
two men on either side of me. One was Captain William Singley, an
ex-Villanova football player, physician and the father of three children.
The other was Private Chuck Frawley, who had gone through training at Camp
Barkley with me. At 36, he was the oldest person going through basic
training, but he was a powerfully built man and had no trouble keeping up
with any of us. He was the father of four who felt it was his duty to fight
for his family and country. In civilian life he had been an orderly at a
nursing home.
I was pretty well shaken up,
both physically and mentally, from the shock of the death of these two men.
Realizing that the next shell might have my name on it, I pushed even harder
to reach the beach as soon as possible. Like many others, I was so glad to
be on terra firma that I wanted to kneel and kiss the ground—or, in
this case, the sand—beneath my feet.
I had previously been
instructed that once we reached the beach, I was to find an excuse to
separate myself from C Company and report to General Roosevelt. I heard the
cries of a wounded soldier who was lying on a part of the beach that had
German signs indicating the area had been mined. Since I saw no one going to
his aid, I told some of the men near me I was going to see if I could help,
and that I would catch up with them. I began probing the ground with a
bayonet in an effort to clear a path through the minefield so I could get to
the injured soldier. An infantryman crawled up next to me and told me that
the Germans had never mined the area, but had put up the signs in the hope
they would slow down any invading troops. I managed to get to the wounded
soldier, bandage his wounds and pull him to a place that at least offered
some shelter. For this “excuse to separate,” I received the Bronze Star.
I found General Roosevelt at
a point where troops, tanks, and ammunition and fuel supply vehicles were
pouring inland from the beach through a break in the sea wall. Just the fact
that a General was on the beach and was directing the overall operations
gave a big boost to everyone who just wanted to survive the day. The General
informed me that I was to rejoin C Company, and that my orders would come in
a week or two from 4th Division Headquarters.
To get back to C Company, I
went across a causeway where the mosquitoes were in columns three hundred
feet high, and I was very thankful we had been issued a can of mosquito
repellent. I found C Company in a field surrounded by hedgerows, and all the
men had already dug in for the night. I started to dig my first foxhole
under actual combat conditions, when one of the men pointed out there was a
foxhole close to him that had already been dug. There was a soldier, I was
told, who had dug at least four other foxholes because he wanted to be
certain that no matter where he was, he would have a foxhole into which he
could dive. This soldier was sent home a week later with a “Section 8”
discharge, which meant he was mentally incompetent. Many of the men, though,
felt he knew exactly what he was doing.
About a year later, on
Memorial Day, May 30, 1945, I wrote a letter to my family, relating an
“edited” version of my D-Day experience:
I was just thinking
about what was happening to me last year at this time. We were in
special camps—called Y camps—and were receiving final lectures on what
to do and what the forthcoming operation would consist of. We then rode
down to the docks, loaded on tank landing craft and got ready for D-Day.
We must have remained on the boat for about two or three days before we
sailed and then we shoved off. As you know we ran into a storm and
believe it or not I got a little sea sick but it passed quickly. Anyway
we pulled in close to the English shore and after the storm subsided,
shoved off again—this time for France and the beaches of Normandy.
We had made so many
practice landings that even the shells exploding all over didn’t bother
us too much at first. It was only after some of the men got killed and
wounded that we knew it wasn’t a practice maneuver and that we better
stop trying to get a good view of the situation and keep under cover.
Our boat hit the beach and the ramp went down and off rolled the tanks
and trucks. I was on a truck but left it and jumped into the water just
a few yards from the dry sand.
There were some wounded
men crying for help and I went to get them. Meanwhile my outfit pulled
on forward for their pre-designated objective. I took care of as many
men as I could and did so lying on my belly all the time. Finally
everything seemed to be in good shape and I started out to find my
outfit. On the way I ran into General Roosevelt who patted me on the
back and said “Good work, son.” He also told me where to find my outfit
and I know I shall never forget him. As you remember from the news, he
died later on.
I finally found the
outfit and I was really glad. The boys had a good foxhole started for me
and I deepened it a little. Then we all remembered that we hadn’t eaten
since morning and opened up some canned roast beef and biscuits and
although the beef was cold, it tasted delicious. Most of us were almost
too hungry to eat. We moved out forward again and I will never forget
that move. It was pitch dark and shells landing and guns going off
everywhere. We had to cross a long causeway which is a road with a swamp
on either side. Well we finally got across, dug in and went to sleep in
our holes. That ended D-Day and although I left out a lot I think you
may like to read what little I have written.
The next morning, after
making our way through some very rough hedgerow country, the 4th fought
their way into St. Lo and St. Mère Église, where the fighting was so severe
that there was destruction in every direction. Making things even more
desolate was the weather, which, from the minute we landed on Utah Beach,
had been overcast and rainy, with no letup in sight. After St. Lo and St.
Mère Église, we fought our way to Cherbourg to secure the port, which was
needed for the landing of equipment, supplies and replacements in quantities
necessary for a large military operation.
Part Six
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