Written Memoir

This is a typescript of a memoir Lee wrote in 1977. Only portions of the memoir relevant to his war experience are included here.

At the time of our marriage the world was at war. Germany had invaded Poland in September 1939 and within the next year had captured Europe. Japan had consummated their sneak attack on Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941, thereby finally bringing the U.S. into the conflict. All young men were registered for the military draft and at 21 I was of prime age. The call came to my friends during the spring and summer of 1942. I received a six months deferment because of the accident which temporarily disabled my father. My call came to report for induction on 7 March 1943. We left Logan on a dreary rainy day from the old U.I.C.R.R. station on First South and Main Street. This was an electric powered interurban streetcar type train. We connected at Ogden with the Bamberger R.R. which had similar equipment. Upon our arrival at Salt Lake city we were trucked up to Ft. Douglas where we were finally bedded down shortly after midnight. I remember little of the trip from Logan to Salt Lake City—my mind was crowded with thoughts of my sweet wife as she stood in the drizzle, her tears mixing with drops of rain and coursing down her cheeks. It was as though the very heavens grieved at our separation. The parting was made more poignant by the scheduled July arrival of our first child.

At Ft. Douglas we were examined, tested, lectured and assigned to a unit for basic training. This required only a few days and shortly I was on the train bound for Texas. My first assignment was at Camp Swift near Austin, Texas in the Field Artillery. While awaiting the arrival of additional recruits to fill the ranks of the group we were subjected to lectures, films, close order drill and policing the area. Basic training was to await the units becoming filled.

One morning an announcement appeared on Battery bulletin board which was creating much interest among my fellow recruits. There was to be organized an "Army Specialized Training Program" and interested persons were invited to make application and be tested for possible inclusion in the first group. Many of us applied and a small group was accepted. We were sent to Louisiana State University in Baton Rouge, LA for additional testing and assignment to ASTP units across the country. My assigned unit was Baylor University in Waco, Texas. This was an engineering course heavy in mathematics and science but with classes in history, English, geo-politics and geography. We carried between 25 and 30 hours of class work per week and were required to study 3 hours minimum each evening. Military duties were minimal. We marched from our dorms about 1/4 mile each morning to classes and back in the afternoon. There was a parade and pass in review exhibition held on Saturdays for the local civilians. We lived in one of the men’s dorms, Brooks Hall, and were served our meals in our own dining hall. This was army life at its best—famous Southern cooking with no K.P. and practically no military harassment. During winter quarter 1943-4 we in the ASTP provided the manpower for the Baylor basketball team. During those war years there was no normal conference competition but we played a schedule including teams from Texas and Louisiana. I was on the starting five at the beginning of the season and by the fourth or fifth game had managed to work myself down to the end of the bench.

My months at Baylor were valuable in many ways. The acquisition of classroom knowledge was most helpful when after the war I enrolled at Utah State University. Also living away from home in a different culture, a different climate and with people from different parts of the country was all educational. (I should also mention being introduced to Texas wild life with which we shared the dorms, namely the giant roaches and the omnipresent ants.)

A number of important events transpired during my ten months at Baylor. One evening late in July, 1943 I was called to the office and given a telegram which announced the arrival of DeeAnn and with the assurance that mother and daughter were both doing well—I was a FATHER! Later that year on 13 December 1943 came word that grandpa Brown had died. I was able to get a short leave to attend the funeral.

Between each quarter of academic work at Baylor we were given a week’s leave. It required almost 3 days on the train to get from Waco to Ogden and the same to return so not much time was left to be with Phyllis and DeeAnn. Every moment was precious and we savored each one.

In the spring of 1944 it had become apparent that the ASTP was soon to be phased out. Many of us had no desire to go back to the army so we applied for transfer to the Air Corps. A number of us were accepted and were shipped to Shepard Air Force Base in Wichita Falls, Texas. There we were examined, tested and tortured. On the basis of physical and psychological aptitudes a determination as to further training was made. I was assigned to a College Training Detachment at Creighton University in Omaha, Nebraska for pre-flight training. Class work was very elementary for those of us who had been in college. Living conditions were good and the food was excellent—I gained 20 pounds.

About this time it was determined that more pilots were in training than would be needed. As a result, those of us who had transferred from the ground forces were washed out and sent back to out original branch of service. Since the ASTP was no longer in existence, I, along with others in like circumstances, was assigned to the infantry. We were shipped to Ft. Leonard Wood, Missouri. Morale was at the lowest possible ebb and many types of protest resulted. Some went AWOL, some refused to train and a number of us worked our way into the hospital. I was admitted for athlete’s foot and stayed in for possible gastric ulcer followed by non-functioning gallbladder. Eventually, some six weeks later, all of the gold bricks were booted out and returned to regular duty. This was just in time to join the division, 96th Infantry, as it moved to Camp San Luis Obispo, California for amphibious training.

My behavior at S.L.O. did not improve and after several episodes of "gold Bricking" and general failure to follow orders I and a group of like offenders was scheduled for overseas duty as replacements. A two week furlough with the opportunity to get re-acquainted with my sweet wife and baby DeeAnn made it all worthwhile. Then back to San Luis Obispo and preparations for the big adventure. An 8 day trip by train to Ft. Geo. Meade in Maryland was an experience difficult to forget. The whole thing was made almost unbearable by the severe case of poison oak from the waist down. My last 96th Div. escapade, running out on a 25 mile hike at the 2 mile mark and cutting through a patch of poison oak on the way to the service club, turned out to be a disaster.

While in Maryland the opportunity came for a weekend pass to Washington D.C. and some sight seeing. After processing a Ft. Meade it was on to Camp Miles Standish at Taunton, Massachusetts. We had time for a pass to Boston and then on board the SS Mariposa. We sailed to north Atlantic as a lone wolf and landed at Liverpool 8 days later.

It was September of 1944 and England was green and wet. We spent some 3 weeks in training for that which we would face as infantrymen in combat. Next, on board another ship and across the channel to Omaha Beach, Normandy. From Normandy we traveled by train (40 or 8—hommes or cheveaux) to Vervier, Belgium and a few days in a bomb damaged factory. Then by truck to the combat zone near Aachen, Germany and a replacement depot where we were assigned to our combat units. Mine was the 104th (First Army) Infantry Div., 414th Reg. , Co. F.

A confused, ill trained buck private joined his unit and the very next day found himself in the midst of a mortar barrage. My first assignment was to be a platoon runner, carrying messages from the platoon leader to the platoon sergeant. The fighting was intense as we sought to breach the Siegfried line, a fortified area of concrete pill boxes and tank traps guarding the German homeland. Gains were measured in yards per day and thousands of casualties. Some two weeks later we were sent back for rest and replacements. Six men and one officer came back from the original platoon of 39 men and one officer—the rest were casualties. This led to the green buck private being promoted to squad leader with the rank of Staff Sgt.

Back into combat with the objective of taking a moated castle, Chateau Mullenark. By now we were known as the night fighters and this was a midnight to dawn foray. Our squad was given the objective of taking what appeared on aerial photos as a group of low sheds to the right of the main building. As the attack began across the moat by the side of the castle, we headed for the right flank and our assigned objective. We were unable to find the sheds, they turned out to be piles of sugar beets. As we continued around to the rear of the castle my first face-to-face confrontation with the enemy occurred. I stepped around a large clump of shrubbery and there was a German private, rifle in hand but with no heart for the fight. He became our first P.O.W. of the day. Situated on a direct line between the castle and the Roer River was a large storage cellar. Here we decided to stop, regroup and await the out come of the company's thrust against the castle itself. We were not aware of the desperate plight of our comrades. They had come under severe mortar and small arms fire and were pinned down on the banks of the moat.

Our position was relatively strong and reasonably safe. The cellar was constructed of brick in the walls, a stone floor and a thick dirt covered roof. By now it was full day light and the German garrison in the castle sent a lone soldier from the rear of the castle toward the river and the main German lines. As he approached our position we invited him in and he wisely accepted. This same scenario was repeated over and over during the morning hours until we had collected twelve prisoners and had placed them along the wall on one side of the cellar. Finally the enemy came to realized what was happening and opened mortar fire on our position. They would drop a round at the doorway and the shrapnel would fly through the opening. We were protected by the heavy brick front walls which provided an area of safety on each side of the cellar. The day wore on and late in the afternoon we decided to leave the cellar and make our way around the back of the castle and into the small village on the opposite side. We proceeded with our group of P.O.W.'s along the high wall which enclosed the grounds of the castle and reached our company head quarters. Here we learned of the plight of our platoon whose members were still out on the banks of the moat. The company commander gave me the assignment of going out and bringing them in. This required completing the circle around the castle, moving through the dark of night and locating the position to the platoon. Then it was necessary to move from foxhole to foxhole to advise each man of the situation and how to reach the main company position. This action was completed without further casualties. Later the Bronze Star Medal for heroism was awarded for this patrol action.

Following Mullenark Castle our units secured all of the area on the west side of the Roer River. We now entered a period of consolidation and holding positions down to the river edge. From these advance posts manned only during darkness could be heard the sounds of enemy transport and movement of armor. The time was early Dec, 1944, we were enjoying the lull in fighting and we were unaware of the enemy preparations for a full scale counter-attack. This was to come Dec. 17, 1944 in Ardennes sector—the Battle of the Bulge. During this period we were spread over a wide area holding lines adjacent to the penetration. Christmas 1944 was reasonably pleasant and we found tree ornaments and other traditional holiday decorations. The battle swirled about us but left us unscathed. Food was plentiful and we were warmly housed.

Early in January 1945 we pushed across the Roer River at Duren and headed across the agricultural plains toward Koln (Cologne) and the Rhine River. The fighting during this two month period was much different than that which prevailed during late 1944. Small towns were scattered across the plain. We would usually push off on an attack several hours before daylight, capture our objective and by early morning be all buttoned up for the day. In this manner we moved across the plain and to the out skirts of Koln. The actual fighting in this part of Germany was somewhat routine and casualties were much less than those experienced while breaching the Siegfried Line.

Cologne fell to the combined attack of the 104th and two other divisions. We consolidated our position, found a relatively undamaged house in the outer residential area and settled in to await out next orders. Cologne had been heavily bombed and damaged to the inner city was severe. Only the great Cathedral was left standing relatively undamaged. Speculation and rumors were the order of the day as to our next assigned objective. We were finally on the Rhine River. To cross that great stream in March with the enemy fiercely defending the opposite bank presented a fearful prospect.

At this time there became available a number of 3 day passes to Paris. It seemed an opportunity worth accepting and so together with some 50 or so others it was back away from the front to France. It was cold and gray the whole time we were in Paris but it was also interesting to see the many sights—the Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triumph, Cathedral of Notre Dame, Louvre etc. We had a group photo taken at the Place de la Concorde near the Arc de Triumph at the head of the Champs de Elysees.

While "enjoying" the sights of Paris we received word that a bridge across the Rhine had been captured intact. All passes were cancelled and it we back to Cologne on the first train.

Another new experience was forth coming as the 414th Regiment was detached from the 104th Inf. Div. and assigned to the 3rd Armored Division. We were to ride a top the tanks and work in conjunction with them in a new type of close coordination of infantry and armor. The bridgehead at Remagen was far from secure and the pressure from the German forces on the east bank of the Rhine was threatening to drive our outnumbered units back across the river. It was our assignment to move across the bridge and break out of the bridgehead area. This we did in a matter of a few days with the tanks providing firepower and the infantry clearing out pockets of resistance. Once out of the bridgehead we broke into open country, turned north and proceeded to bypass and encircle the great Ruhr industrial area, the heart of production for the German war effort. The other two regiments of the 104th Div. followed us and cleared out all resistance by the Wermacht. We were moving so rapidly the enemy units had great difficulty even in determining where we would strike next. There was no such thing as a "line" in the usual military sense. Rather we mounted the tanks, six to ten men per tank, and headed down the road. If we met no organized resistance we continued on along the road, leaving enemy stragglers to our infantry. If resistance was encountered, the heavy weapons on the tanks would be brought into action following which we "doughs" would move forward and clear the area. Then back up on the tanks and off down the road to the next town. In this manner we moved north to the historic old city of Paderborn. Here we met the British who had managed to cross the Rhine to the north. We now turned east and headed for link up with the Russian forces who had entered Germany and were driving for Berlin.

Two interesting experiences highlighted this drive from Paderborn to the city of Leipzig where we would eventually entrain for home. The first occurred at the city of Nordhausen. By this time my rank was Tech Sergeant and my assignment was Platoon Sergeant. This meant being second in command of the platoon when we had a commissioned officer assigned. When we had no officer, which was much of the time, it meant serving in the capacity of platoon leader. My combat patrol was first to enter Nordhausen and that which we found there was virtually unbelievable. The city was the location of underground factories which produced the V2 Rockets—the secret weapon the Germans were hoping would turn the tide in their favor. The city had been so heavily bombed that it was a mass of rubble. No buildings were left standing and in most of the city it was impossible even to determine where the streets were. The city also was the location of slave labor camp. These people were literally worked and starved to death. Some 5000 corpses were discovered, many stacked like so much cord wood awaiting final disposal. Most were apparently French. Later the French government awarded some of us the Croix de Guerre for services rendered.

The second incident occurred in the small city of Raguhn. We entered the city late in the afternoon and found a small tank repair crew with two partially disabled tanks already there. The area had been cleared of enemy troops and we settled in for a good night’s peaceful rest. Much to our chagrin we awakened in the morning to find ourselves, one infantry platoon plus the tank mechanics, surrounded by the enemy—cut off from our support. Our platoon leader at the time was unable to function due to battle fatigue. We made him comfortable in a basement and went out to see what needed doing. It was routine work clearing the enemy from all of the buildings in town with the exception of a large factory. This was a brick building of one story located at the extreme edge of town adjacent to open fields. The enemy command post was located in this building and the German troops were "dug in" in the fields surrounding the town. We called to the German officers to surrender but they refused. To try and take the factory building with our small force would have been most difficult and dangerous. Someone had the idea of bringing one of the tanks down to the building as a persuasive force. The tank mechanics were very reluctant to get involved but finally agreed to bring the better of the two tanks along and see if it could be of help. We positioned the tank close to a window of the building and placed the muzzle of the cannon directly facing the window. Fortunately there was nothing wrong with that part of the tank and we sent a round into the building. The shrapnel ricocheting about the inside of that building must have been somewhat disconcerting to the German officers inside. Another invitation to surrender was tendered. This time they offered to leave the town and take all their people from the fields about the town with them. We refused their generous offer and presented them with another round or two of fire from the big gun on the tank. After the reverberations died down we again invited them and all their men from the surrounding fields to join us with hands behind their heads. This time they agreed that might be a good idea after all and proceeded to line up the entire unit in the courtyard. We sent to the basement room where we had left out platoon leader and had him come to accept the surrender of over a hundred German troops. A Silver Star Medal for heroism was awarded for this action—a decoration which should have gone to the platoon, not to the Platoon Sergeant.

The actual shooting part of the war in Europe was over and we settled down to a few quiet weeks of occupation duty in a small town on the Saale River near the city of Halle. The countryside was beautiful, the people were friendly and it was great to feel safe and secure.

Perhaps the worst part of being an infantryman in combat was the continual 24 hour a day possibility of sudden injury and/or death. As the days passed and more comrades fell one couldn't avoid thoughts of the shell meant for you. This period of occupation provided time and opportunity for reflection. Looking back over the journey from Stolberg to Halle there were three instances where death seemed imminent and certain. One was while trying to run across a sugar beet field on a cold, wet November morning with enemy snipers firing from 3 sides, a second was in an intense artillery barrage and the third was while being strafed and bombed in an open field. A common emotion in each case was a feeling of peace, of acceptance of whatever was to come and a perfect assurance of continuing life either here of on the other side.

In June of 1945 we moved into Leipzig and boarded trains for France and a homeward bound ship. As we were leaving the train station the Russian troops were entering. Many exchanges of personal items between American GI's and Russian soldiers occurred. We arrived in France and were billeted in tent cities named after brands of cigarettes— Lucky Strike and Herbert Terreton were ours. Here we waited impatiently for processing and embarking. Our vessel was the motorship Kungsholm of Swedish registry. It was slow and prone to mechanical break down but eventually we arrived at Staten Island. From the ship to Fort Dix where we were again processed and put on trains for home and 30 day leaves.

It was great to be reunited with Phyllis and our beautiful 13-month-old DeeAnn. During the furlough time we thoroughly enjoyed catching up on almost a year of missed time together. About half way through this leave the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima followed by the one on Nagasaki and suddenly the war was over. Instead of another lengthy forced separation and the unpleasant prospect of a landing on the home islands of Japan came the thrilling realization that it was really over! It was necessary to rejoin the 104th Division at San Louis Obispo for processing and separation but this was only a matter of a few weeks and then that priceless bit of paper—the honorable discharge was in hand. It was now October 1945 and home to stay.

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