WORLD WAR II VETERANS CONCORDIA PARISH LOUISIANA

U.S. ARMY AIR FORCE HOLLY HENDRIXSON
PACIFIC THEATER

48th Material Squadron, 27th Bomber Group Aviation Mechanic

Awards: Presidential Unit Citation with Oak Leaf Cluster
American Defense Medal with Bronze Star

Holly and his twin Sister, Geraldine were born in Madison, Arkansas, May 4, 1920. Their parents were Holly and Goldie Gurley Hendrixson. The family moved to Ferriday in 1926 (Just before the 1927 Floods).

Holly finished High School at Ferriday, but these were depression days. Jobs were scarce and pay was low. He joined the army in 1940 and graduated from the first aviation mechanics school, which was held in Dallas, Texas. He was stationed in the Phillipines when the war began, and was on guard duty when the first bomb hit Manila.

When Bataan and Corrigedor fell, he was on the Island of Mendora. He was one of a group of 50 volunteers who had gone there to set up a secret air base, where it was hoped they could receive support from Australia. When the Japanese landed on Mendora with 3000 to 5000 soldiers, he and his group destroyed the Air Base, fled to the mountains, and hid there for about 5 weeks. They went to the back side of the island and acquired a launch.

They set out to sea, hopefully headed for Australia, over 2000 miles away. They ran out of food and water and began looking for an island that had not been occupied by the Japanese. They found the small island of Cuyo in the Sulu Sea. The tide was high and they sailed into an inland river. They found food and water, but when the tide went out, their boat was left high and dry. A Japanese search plane spotted their boat and sent soldiers after them. Thirty three of the group were captured. In later years he learned that only 6 of the original 50 volunteers survived the war, and he was the last survivor of the 6.
Holly and the others escaped, and with small native sail boats, again headed south. They reached the Island of Panay, where Holly joined a guerrilla outfit. Later Holly, another American and one Phillippine man in a captured Japanese launch, made another try for Australia. They were captured and taken aboard another Japanese launch. Their Phillippino friend was shot and the two Americans were tied up over the front of the boat. The Japanese kept searchlights on them and fired shots all around them all night.

He spent some time in a Japenese prison, until he was freed by our Phillippino allies. (He was missing in action for 3 years so it is amazing that he was able to recall so many of the details of those years.) As he said, “I talked to the man upstairs many times during those years.”

He learned to live (survive) in the jungle and faced death by gunfire and bombs, and in many other ways. He had no medicine, no clothes and often no fresh water. He witnessed many brutalities. One time, some Phillippinos gave them a small boat. The Japenese learned about it and killed all 20 or 30 people who lived on the island. They even stayed in a leper colony for a time. A safe place, because the Japanese would not go there.

At one time, he acquired a bad attack of appendicitus, requiring immediate surgery. There was a Phillippino nurse in the area but she had absolutely no facilities. She operated with a kitchen butcher knife
on a kitchen table, with no antisetic. He had to take refuge in the mountains, so the next day, he climbed the mountain carrying a 100 pound bag of rice on his shoulder.

In 1944, Holly made one final attempt to reach Australia. He and a few others acquired a sailboat, and got as far as Borneo before they were hit by a typhoon. The storm tore the sail mast down, but the bamboo
outriggers kept the boat afloat until they reached the Island of Nigros. Natives put them in canoes and paddled to Panay. There they were rescued by the USS Angler, a new submarine that was in the area, supplying the Phillippino Guerrrillos . He was taken to Port Darwin,
Australia and later to Brisbane, which was General MacArthur’s headquarters. Even in Australia, being an escaped prisoner of war, he was not allowed to write home. They kept him in a hospital in Australia for rehabilitation for about 2 months, in an effort to rebuild him to his normal condition. Of course, they were only partly successful.

After he was returned to Washington D.C. he was allowed to write home. No news to or from home in three long years. He did not know if his family was alive or dead. No one knew if he was alive or dead. The only information, was a letter from the War Department to his mother every six months, stating that he was still missing in action. Most people gave up on him, but one person never did, his Mother, who even kept his 1941 Christmas present, unopened, in his room. His parents and his sister visited men in Winnfield and Morganza who were escaped prisoners of war. These men were encouraging, but could really tell them nothing.

When in Washington he worked at the Pentagon helping to draw maps and supply other information about the Islands, which would be useful when the island by island invasion of Japan began.

He came home for an extended leave. Then he was called back to take part in a War-Bond selling tour. This tour was in the company of movie stars and other celebrities. The toured many states, including California, where the picture was made. We are reasonably sure that this tour was the most enjoyable time of his military career.

In 1951 he married Min McNew. They had one daughter, Holly Lynn Martein who now lives in Pineville, Louisiana. Min died Jan. 20, 1998 And Holly died March 5, 2002.

Submitted by his daughter, Holly Lynn Martein
And his sister, Geraldine Wiggins

Staff Sargeant Hendrixson On a Bond Selling Tour After His Return to the United States

Holly in later years

World War II Veterans
Concordia Parish, Louisiana

Ferd S. Godbold II

He was born in Greybull, Wyoming in 1921 but was raised near Frogmore, Louisiana and graduated from Ferriday High School. He attended LSU and graduated with a B.S. in Civil Engineering in 1941.

Shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor, he reported for active duty as a Second Lieutenant and was assigned to an Engineering Battalion in Trinidad in the Caribbean. As this was pretty far removed from action, he volunteered to become a pilot in US Army Air Corps.
After completing pilot training at various US locations, he received his pilot wings and was assigned to the 340th Bomb Squadron, 97th Bomb Groub, 15th Air Force stationed near Foggia, Italy. He flew bombing raids over the Alps and into enemy territory, specifically German manufacturing plants and rail yards and the Ploesti oilfield in Rumania. This included daytime flights in large formations with limited fighter protection. He and his crew also flew solo flights at night.
His plane was shot up several times and on one occasion, one of the engines caught fire. He was able to fly his crew and plane back to their base on every mission.

He completed 35 combat missions and received the following awards:
• Distinguished Fly Cross
• Air Medal with three oak leaf clusters
• European African Middle Eastern Campaign Medal with 5 bronze stars
• Air Combat Balkan Battle Star
• American Theater Campaign Medal

When the war was over in Europe he was mustered out with the rank of captain and returned to his job with Humble Oil as a civil engineer. He retired to Natchez, Mississippi in 1984 after completing 42 years with Humble Oil and Exxon.

He moved to Dallas, Texas in 2006 and resided there until his death in 2014.

WORLD WAR II  VETERANS  CONCORDIA PARISH, LOUISIANA
ARMY AIR FORCE

Albert A. Forrester

EUROPE

95^th Bomb Group, Eighth Air Force,  First Lieutenant,  Navigator , B-17

Combat Experience ———– 35 Missions over Europe 4/29/44 to 8/30/44

Awards: Air Medal with Three Oak Leaf Clusters.

Distinguished Flying Cross

Russian Commemorative Medal

Born in 1919, I grew up on a small family farm in Texas during the depression. With help from my family, I was able to attend college for two years.  I was in Engineering and was included in the Army ROTC military program.

In 1939, I was doing engineering work in the rural electrification program. Hitler had begun his conquest of Europe. The newspapers and radio told us about the various campaigns. But we, like most Americans, felt that this would never be a problem for us.  After all, these happenings were all the way across the Atlantic Ocean. Even the prospect of being drafted for a year of military training, did not sound like much of a problem.

I had continued my engineering work, and was working in Franklinton, Louisiana, when, in October 1941, I was drafted. A few weeks later,

On the morning of December 7, Pearl Harbor Day, I was on KP (Kitchen Police) at Camp Grant, Illinois. Like many others, I woke up to the fact that we were at War. War would never again be something we did not have to worry about because it was across the ocean.

After a series of training schools, I received my commission as a Second Lieutenant in the Signal Corps, in July 1942. I was en route to the Port of Embarkation in San Francisco, with several days allowed for travel time. Using a few days of that travel time, I married Kathleen Welch of Franklinton. This marriage lasted 58 years, until her death in the year 2000.

August 1942 found me on duty at a Signal Depot Company at Honolulu, Hawaii. There were several men there, who had been there during the attack on Pearl Harbor, December 7. Of course their stories were all different, but one thing was in common. After the attack, the American forces were dis-organized and in panic. Anyone that had a gun thought anyone that moved was a Japanese soldier. Some even felt that Americans killed more Americans than the Japanese did. The obvious answer was that if Japan had followed the attack with an invasion, that they could have taken the Hawaiian Islands quite easily. If this had happened, the California coast would have been our western line of defense.

I was not content with fighting the war in an office or warehouse, so I volunteered for Air Crew training, in grade. I was accepted and came back to the mainland in March, 1943. After a series of training schools, I received my wings as a Navigator January 15,1944. Shortly thereafter I went to Dyersburg, Tennessee to join my crew and get some brief training on how to fight a war in a B-17.

Our crew was composed of nine men; Pilot, Co-pilot, Navigator, Bombardier, Flight Engineer, Radio Operator, Waist Gunner, Ball Turret Gunner and Tail Gunner. All guns were 50 caliber machine guns. The Bombardier also had guns, twin guns in a chin turret, in the very nose of the aircraft. Immediately behind the Bombardier, the Navigator had two guns, one in either side of the nose section. The Flight Engineer who was just above and immediately behind the Pilots, had two guns in an upper turret, capable of 360 degree rotation any where above the aircraft. The Radio Operator had a roof mounted gun, giving him a limited target area above the aircraft. Some crews had two Waist Gunners whose target areas were to the sides of the aircraft, In flying formation, normally one of our planes was on one side, hence the need for only one Waist Gunner. The Tail Gunner could protect our rear, and the Ball Turret Gunner gave us 360 degree protection from everything beneath us. It is easy to see why the B-17 was called the Flying Fortress.

Flying out of England, the Eighth Air Force, of which, the 95^th Bomb Group was a part, was primarily a strategic bombing unit. The purpose of strategic bombing was to destroy the enemy’s ability to wage a successful war. Our primary targets were oil refineries, aircraft and parts factories, railroad yards, bridges, airfields and the City of Berlin.

On the D-Day invasion date, June 6, 1944 and some times afterward, we were assigned Tactical targets. These were specific targets, the destruction of which, would be supportive of the invasion forces.

Our bomb loads were varied. Some were demolition, some general purpose and some incendiary. Our maximum bomb load was 6000 pounds. Bombs varied in size from 100 pound to 2000 pound monsters. I do not mean that we would mix sizes on the same mission. For example, our loading would be 6 /1000 pounders or 12 /500 pounders.

We were very fortunate to have done our combat flying when we did. The P-47 and P-51 fighters had made the German Luftwaffe an almost non-existent force. Thankfully. none of our crew ever got a good shot at a German fighter plane.  Our greatest fear and danger was from the anti aircraft guns (The Flak).

Another thing in our favor and favorable to all the Allied forces, was Hitler’s decision to invade Russia. His decision to do so, greatly reduced his European strength. We are proud of all that our people did to help win this war, but we should be extremely grateful for the mistakes our enemies made.

The 95^th Bomb Group, on March 4 1944, had been the first to conduct daytime bombing of Berlin. They accrued heavy losses on that mission. Our first combat mission was to Berlin , April 29, 1944. This was the eighth trip to Berlin for the 95^th Group. Enough happened that mission for several missions. When we were on the target run, severe flak (anti-aircraft fire) damaged our oxygen system and caused the loss of one engine. About an hour later our oxygen was gone and we had to drop out of formation and go down to 16000 feet elevation, so we could survive without oxygen. We had lost one engine, so the pilots had feathered the corresponding engine on the other side. Fuel economy is better with two engines than with three. We were flying alone over Germany about 8000 feet below other aircraft on this mission. We gave special thanks for the P-47 and P-51 Fighters, who had  weakened the German Air Force. The P-51 had the range to permit them to go all the way with us, even our deepest penetrations.

While we were over the English channel, we lost another engine. Immediately, the pilots tried to start the feathered engine, at first, unsuccessfully. We made it over the cliffs of Dover with one engine. (They say a B-17 won’t fly with one engine.) They were finally able to start the engine, so we made it back to the base with two engines operating. We were so late, that we had already been listed as missing. In our Group, 25 planes completed the mission. Two were lost and we almost made it three. We did not have to be very smart to decide that our chances of completing 25 missions and going home were not very good. I suppose we all adopted an attitude of, “What is to be, will be.” I know that we did not pray as much or as frequently as we should.

Three of our next five missions were to Berlin but none quite as dramatic as the first. “The Stars and Stripes”, the Armed Forces newspaper, wrote these Berlin missions up as 1000 and 2000 plane raids.

Combat missions became routine. On days we flew, we were wakened about 2:00 AM, breakfast (combat crews got real eggs), briefing, board the plane, climb to altitude (this required about 2 hours), fly the mission, return to the base, de-briefing, and find out who did not make it back. We subconsciously avoided becoming too close to members of other crews. It was bad enough when the bunk next to you became vacant, without realizing you had lost a close friend.

On D-Day our target was a choke point in the town of Falise, France. On our way over, we had a tremendous view of our invasion forces. There were so many vessels it looked like you could walk from England to France without stepping in the water. I know that the men who were on the beaches will say that I know nothing about D-Day. They are right. I am thankful that my view was from five miles above. On the other hand, every mission we flew was a D-Day for us. There was a solid undercast at the target, so we took our bombs home with us. When our target was in an occupied country, we did not drop our bombs unless the target was visible. I believe we brought bomb loads back seven times. Landing with a full bomb load makes everyone a little nervous.

One mission was quite different from the others. July 14, French Bastile Day, we dropped supplies by parachute to the French Underground at a location in the mountains, near the Spanish border. It was good to feel that we could be a part of their vital operation.

I was glad to be able to take part in one of the shuttle runs to Russia. The shuttle run was a three piece affair. First a target too far to the east to permit a return to England. This meant landing in Russia. Then a target in southeast Europe, with a stop in Italy. Finally another target on the way back to England. These missions had a dual purpose. There were vital targets in Poland and Czechoslovakia that we could not reach in any other way. And, in International Relationships, it showed that the USA and Russia were working together to win the war. In 2002 I received the Russian Commemorative Medal for my “contribution to the efforts of Russia and the Allies in their struggle of unprecedented  magnitude against Nazi Germany.”

In our series of shuttle missions our eastbound target was an aircraft factory in northern Poland, landing at Poltava, Russia, a bombed out town north of Stalingrad. The following day we added another feature to the above description. Our target was an oil refinery in Poland with a return to Poltava. Although flak was moderate, our plane was badly damaged. We made a safe landing, but had to leave our plane there.

A plane, which had been damaged and left behind from a previous shuttle run had been repaired by the Russians. We flew this plane to complete our shuttle run. Our remaining targets were airfields in Romania and southern France, with a stop between missions at Foggia, Italy. We had completed 31 combat missions.

When we began our tour in April, a tour requirement was 25 missions. As more airmen survived, it was raised to 30, then to 35. In our next two missions our group lost 8 planes. Our final mission, number 35, August 30, 1944, has a special story. The target was an aircraft factory in Bremen Germany, where the German FW-190 planes were built. We had very little flak and no fighter opposition. This is the same target as an Air Force mission May 17, 1943, where many planes were lost. This was the final mission, number 25, for the crew of the Memphis Belle.

Their story was made into a highly publicized movie. The changes in this 15 month period shows the tremendous change in Air Power over Europe.

Shortly after this 35^th mission, we returned to the USA, where my last military assignment was as a navigational instructor at Selman Field, Monroe, Louisiana. I remained there until my release from active duty in May, 1945.

Since 1948, my home has been in Ferriday, Concordia Parish, Louisiana.

OUR B-17 CREW: Kenneth Otto, Flight Engineer; Donald Jones, Waist Gunner; James Weaver, Radio Operator; Joe Bonner, Ball Turret Gunner; Eugene Petrino, Tail Gunner; Bill Kinney, Pilot; Harry Schwartzenberg, Co-Pilot; Albert Forrester, Navigator; Frank Dietz, Bombardier.

WORLD WAR II VETERANS CONCORDIA PARISH LOUISIANA

ARMY INFANTRY
William C. Falkenheiner
EUROPE

422nd Regiment, 106th Infantry Division, 1st Lieutenant, Mortar Platoon

German Prisoner of War December 1944 to May 1945

I was born and lived my childhood years at Vidalia, Louisiana. I was a I was a senior at Vidalia High School, when the war began in Europe in September 1939. The school was small at that time, with only six members of my graduating class. In September 1940, at the age of 16, I enrolled at LSU.

At that time LSU had a strong and proud military tradition, and the ROTC program was large and popular with the male students. As a relatively unsophisticated young man, I was not entirely happy with the rules and discipline forced on me, but my experiences and the friends made in A Company of the Cadet Infantry Regiment was as valuable to me as were my academic studies.

I was a sophomore on December 7, 1941 when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. I was attending a movie with Ed Scheli from Vidalia when we heard the news. Ed was later killed in the Korean War. We left the theater immediately and went to listen to radio reports. The campus was in an uproar, with students shouting their rage at the Japs. The University President addressed the crowd and advised us to calm down and continue with our classes.

Although many of the older students were entering the armed services, I continued my studies, including ROTC. Of course the wartime conditions and activities affected us. We dealt with rationing of food, clothing and gasoline and served at Civil Defense posts, armed with billy clubs. I often thought about what we would have done if enemy soldiers had suddenly appeared.

My sophomore class expected to proceed into Advanced ROTC and receive commissions as officers, but were required to enlist in the Army

Reserves. We thought that the Army did this to keep us from entering one of the Navy or Marine programs. There was more to this enlistment than we realized. In April 1943, all of us in the Enlisted Reserve were ordered to active duty. We were in the Army!!!! From that time until about June 1, we were under Army control, part time on the LSU campus and part time at Camp Beauregard, near Alexandria. We remained at Camp Beauregard about a month, in what was referred to as basic training, mainly doing such chores as KP and barracks cleaning.

About July 1 1943, those of us in the Infantry were sent to Officer Candidate School at Fort Benning, near Columbus, Georgia. Fort Benning, an old established army post had been greatly enlarged; part of the massive training programs which were in progress all over the country.

The Officer Candidate School had been a 13 week course, but beginning with our Class, it became a 17 week course. The training was long and hard with very little free time only on some Sundays. I had no problems except for some of the most strenuous physical activities, which only the strongest could do. During the latter part of the course I had to go before a Review Board of senior officers for evaluation, because of my youth. I was 19 and younger than most others in my class. This caused me some anxiety, because of fear that they would not allow me to be commissioned. The program was highly organized and was the best instruction and educational experience I have ever experienced. The benefits from lessons learned at Benning, not only served me in the military, but in civilian life as well.

October 26, 1943 I received my gold bars as 2nd Lieutenant, Infantry in the Army of the United States. My parents, Mr. & Mrs. Clyde Falkenheiner had saved enough gas rationing coupons to come to Columbus for my graduation and I rode home with them. Hiram Wright from Winnfield rode with us. I had a 10 day leave with orders to report to Camp Walters near Macon, Georgia.

Camp Walters proved to be a holding depot for further assignment. From there I went to Camp Blanding, Florida, an Infantry Replacement Training Center, where draftees were given15 weeks of basic Infantry training after which they were assigned to regular units, sent to to specialist schools or shipped directly overseas as replacement for casualties, most of whom were going to North Africa.

Camp Blanding was isolated, uncomfortable and not a place of fond memories. I did get to go to Jacksonville and San Augustine a few times. Christmas was particularly dreary. Training there was for riflemen and for the use of 30 caliber machine guns and 81 millimeter mortars. Most of my time was with the Mortar training.

April 1944, I was assigned to Company M, 422nd Regiment, 106th Infantry Division Camp Atterbury near Indianapolis, Indiana. At that time I was promoted to 1st lieutenant and received my silver bars. I was in charge of the 3rd platoon, an 81 millimeter unit. Prior to my arrival, the 106th had been on extensive maneuvers in Tennessee. Since I had not participated I was, at first, considered an outsider. This attitude soon changed because of heavy drafts on its personnel. They were going as replacements for units in Europe who were suffering severe losses. I was not an “Outsider” very long. The mortar units overseas had not suffered as many casualties as had the rifle units, therefore, the drafts of my key personnel had not been as severe as others.

In September 1944 we were told we would be shipping out soon and I was given a 10 day leave. I returned to Vidalia and found that most of my friends were gone. The boys were in the service and the girls had moved elsewhere to better jobs. My mother worried about me not having any friends or dates, so she arranged a date for me with a nice girl who had recently moved into town with her parents. This proved to be one of the best things to happen in my life, because this nice girl was Dorothy McLemore, who later became my wife, now for more than 50 years.

When I returned to my regiment after my leave, we immediately began preparations for our next move. My regiment went to Camp Miles Standish near Boston. Next we went by train to a port somewhere near New York where we boarded a big ship. It was dark and we had not been told where we were, where we were going, or the name of the ship. I learned later that it was the Acquitania, an old vessel, almost as big as the Queen Mary. The Acquitania, because of its speed, did not travel in convoy. Our only protection against U Boat attack was a zig-zag erratic
course. It was a rather stormy crossing, and I, along with most others, suffered sea-sickness. We had only one scare, when the ship’s crew fired on what might have been a German submarine. We were told nothing.

As we approached England we entered the Irish Sea, just off Ireland. We enjoyed calmer seas and the chance to be on deck and see the green fields and small villages. We passed the Isle of Man, entered the firth of the Clyde River and landed at Gourock, Scotland. We were told very little about where we were or where we were going. I learned later about the identity of the places we passed.

We all boarded a train and as usual, were told very little or nothing. Someone said we passed through Edinburg, Scotland. The train took us to our Regimental Encampment in southern England outside a village called Stowe on the Wold. While there we were able to enjoy visits to the local pubs. Two or three of us were invited by one of the farmers and his wife to their home for tea one Sunday afternoon. I was given a short leave to visit London. In spite of the German buz bombs and one V-2 rocket, it was a pleasant visit.

Shortly after my return from London we were alerted for movement. We were told nothing, but were sure we were headed for the continent. From a port on the English Channel, we boarded an LST. Most of our men were on troop ships. We anchored off Le Harve, France and waited a day or so to follow the mine sweepers up the Seine River. We debarked at Rouen, and joined the rest of our Battalion in a very muddy field at a village outside Rouen.

It was early December and the weather was cold and rainy. We were happy to be moving, even in unheated vehicles. We crossed northern France and into Belgium. I remember seeing ruins from some of the famous battlefields of World War I and wrecked vehicles and debris from recent fighting in the present conflict. In Belgium, the terrain was hilly, with small mountains like the Ozarks. We had no idea where we were but knew we were getting near the front, when we saw some of the long range artillery firing. The vehicles left us in a heavily wooded area with about a foot of snow on the ground where our wet and muddy tents were set up. Briefings began about our mission.

The only thing we were told at this time was that we were to go into a defensive position in relief of the 2nd Infantry Division, that the area was quiet, and that the Germans opposing us were not strong, and that we should try to get settled into our new positions. We left this bivouac by foot and moved into positions on top of a ridge that I later found was known as the Schnee Eiffel inside Germany and was one of the few places where the US forces had penetrated the German fortifications known as the West Wall. This position had been taken in September before the allied drive had been halted by lack of supplies. This area of Europe was characterized by steep hills or mountains with heavy thick wooded areas. The Belgium portion is known as the Ardennes and the German portion as the Eiffel. It is sparsely inhabited with people living in small villages and towns located primarily in the valleys along a stream. I saw no civilians since the area on the mountain is not inhabited. There was deep snow and the visibility was limited by the dense forest of evergreen trees.

I was ordered to move my platoon into the exact position of the 2nd Division we were replacing. In fact, the 6 gun mortar battery was in a sandbagged clearing near the Battalion Headquarters, which was in one of the German concrete forts. The 2nd Division left its base plates, since they were firmly in place. We simply gave them six plates and installed our tubes and bipods on the existing plates. Since US forces had been in this position since September, many improvements had been made. My Platoon Command Post and several similar positions were in log covered bunkers, which provided some protection from artillery fire and the very cold weather. I was near the mortar battery and the battalion headquarters bunker. I had telephone communications with the observers who were with the rifle units at the front line, located a short distance down the mountain, which was above the German town of Prum.

To be in front line positions, we were fairly comfortable. All this seemed to verify the information that the area was quiet. We had no idea how precarious the situation was, or how exposed we were to the enemy. We had not even been told that we were in enemy territory or that civilians were not likely to be friendly. We learned later that even in the adjacent areas of Belgium, that the villagers were German sympathizers who had relatives in the German army. The US commanders had to learn new operating methods, quite different from France and Luxembourg where the civilians were anti-German.

December 11 or12 we moved on to the Eiffel position. All our equipment had not arrived. Lack of overshoes was critical. Our leather boots did not protect us from frozen feet or trenchfoot. I personally, did not suffer either at the time. I was appointed Company Paymaster and given a sum of special paper money. I still do not know why the Army had to pay the men when there was no way to spend it. We had more serious problems and the money was never distributed.

THE ARDENNES CAMPAIGN, Known in America as the “BATTLE OF THE BULGE” was beginning. To understand the situation we were in on December 15, 1944, it is necessary to have some understanding of the tactical conditions at that time. As stated before, we were told by high Army authority that we were in a quiet zone and we assumed that they believed it. Moreover, all we had seen up to that time indicated that this was true, although we had not been in position long enough to do the patrolling that would have verified this. The men at the very front did see small signs of enemy activity, but nothing to indicate what was to come.

The 106th Division and others in the sector were covering much wider fronts than good defensive tactics called for. Of necessity, there were wide gaps in the line. My Regiment, the 422nd and the 423rd were on the Schnee (snow in German) Eiffel ridge or mountain that was slightly over 2100 feet high and was a protrusion into German territory and a breach of the German West Wall defenses. There was a gap in the high hills, known as the Losheim Gap, Approximately four miles wide on our left rear covered only by patrols of a lightly armored cavalry group. A similar situation existed on the right of the 423rd with a gap before the positions of the 424th to the right rear. This gap was also lightly defended.

To compound matters there were hard surfaced roads in each of the gaps which looped around the ends of the mountain and followed a small river valley behind the mountain. The artillery battalions supporting us were located in the valley. I have learned since that our regimental commanders were aware of the peril posed by this and
actually protested to Division and Corps commanders. The Division Commander of the 2nd Infantry Division had also objected to the situation when he occupied the area, but his was a veteran unit and had been given an attached tank battalion and mobile anti-tank units which provided protection for the weak flanks for his two regiments, on the Schnee Eiffel. The 106th had no such protection, and those of us on the front had no knowledge of this.
THE BATTLE started about 4:30 AM, December 16, 1944 when the Germans opened with a heavy barrage by all types of artillery along the entire 60 mile front. I was awakened by the noise, particularly the rockets that we called “Screaming Meanies”. Since none of the barrage hit in our positions, we felt sure that the Germans had no intention of a frontal attack, but intended to exploit the undefended and poorly defended areas on the flanks, as described above. At the same time, the Germans were hitting our 424th regiment and the 28th division to its right, as well as the 99th Division on our left rear, on the other side of the lightly defended Losheim Gap.

All day the 16th and 17th we could hear the noise of the battle on either side of us, and by late in the day on the 16th it was from our rear. The Germans had overwhelmed the supporting artillery battalion in the valley to our rear, and we were left with no support. I did not know about this at the time, but I was very apprehensive, and was unable to obtain information at Battalion Headquarters. Meanwhile, with only minor attacks on our front lines, we received no calls for mortar support. I was getting very uneasy on the morning of the 17th, when I could still get no information from Battalion Headquarters. At about this time, I received the strange assignment as “Paymaster”, described above.

On the 18th, we had held our positions and still had not been attacked by the Germans. We did not know it, but ours was the only position, still held. All the rest of the entire front had been overrun or pushed back, and the Germans were pushing far to our rear. The 7th Armored Division had been ordered to come to our assistance. They got no farther than St. Vith, our Division Headquarters, approximately 10 miles to our rear. Only one of its 3 Combat Commands came. The other two were held back because of the threat of German penetration by Kampgruppe Peiper of the 1st SS Panzer Division to the north. This unit had come through the Loshiem Gap and was charged with the Malmedy Massacre, which occurred to our left rear.

As incredible as it may seem, with the communications available to us, communications between the Division an d the two trapped Regiments failed. Eighth Corps Commander, General Middleton; First Army Commander, General Hodges; 21st Army Group Commander, General Bradley; and Supreme Headquarters Commander, General Eisenhower were all late in reacting to the German attack. On the 18th we received a delayed order to abandon our positions and attack to the rear, a town called Schonberg, where US Armor would assist us. Moving a Mortar Platoon overland on foot can be done, but the supply of ammunition that can be carried by hand is severely limited, because of the weight. Nevertheless, we left our bunkers and followed the rifle troops down the mountain through the thick woods to our rear. Prior to leaving, we were fed hot cakes, all they had at the Company mess. Because of our advanced position, food was in short supply and we had not been issued C or K rations. The Mess Sergeant gave me a small can of corned beef and a chocolate bar. This was my last US Army meal for about 6 months, and there were times that I gratefully remembered that meal. During this time, I never saw a US aircraft or US armor of any type. I was soon to see all types and large quantities of German armor.

It was dark soon after we got off the mountain and we had to cross several streams in steep and deep defiles, which was difficult. I was carrying my 30 caliber carbine, ammunition clips, my heavy binoculars for observing mortar fire, the bag full of money, sleeping bag and 4 rounds of mortar ammunition. A platoon sergeant who was not so heavily burdened, relieved me of the ammunition. Some time after dark, the line in front of me lost contact, and it was apparent that we were lost and intermingled with other units. About one third of my platoon was with me and I sent one of the sergeants to locate the others. We resumed contact with the others who were resting in a relatively open area where I got a few hours sleep.

I awakened shortly before daylight and when it was light enough to see, I saw that we were apparently in a pasture near a paved road. I saw my Company Commander who told me to follow the rifle troops, in general support.

We moved out and as we went down the slope we heard bullets from machine guns or rifles. They were going over us since we were in a ravine or ditch. We continued toward the road. I could see a small village on the ridge road to our right front. This was the village of Auw. I began to hear much firing and loud explosions to our left and right, with much screaming by wounded men. My platoon became mixed with many others who came in from our right, seeking protection in the small ditch. They were being hit by small arms fire and cannon from the vicinity of Auw. When we reached the road, we could not cross, because it was being swept by small arms fire. There were several men in the road, dead and severely wounded. No one could help them. I checked a culvert under the road, but it was too small to crawl through. I saw German tanks coming toward us from the vicinity of Auw. They were firing with their cannon and machine guns and none of us had effective weapons to oppose them.

My three gunners in each mortar squad were armed with 45 caliber pistols and the rest of us had carbines like me. Those of us with carbines began firing at the armored vehicles. We knew we could do no damage, but we would cause them to button up, decreasing their visibility and making them apprehensive of bazooka or anti-tank weapons. They obviously did not know that we did not have these weapons and they stopped about 100 yards from us and attempted to kill us with cannon and machine guns.

By this time I was at the edge of the road at the end of the culvert, firing at the lead tank with my carbine and calling for a bazooka or anti tank grenade even though I knew my mortar platoon had none. Our mortars were completely ineffective under the conditions and could not even be set up for use. A machine gun from another unit intermingled with us also opened fire, but it and its crew were silenced by a hit from a tank cannon. I did not have a chance to check on the men from my platoon except for those close to me and the only casualty I was aware of was Sergeant King, one of my best squad leaders. He was hit by one of the cannon shells and killed instantly when his body was severed at the waist. I had several near misses, one of which exploded on the road just above me. The shrapnel cut the wires of a small electric or telephone line, causing them to fall in the ditch around me. I was stunned by this and other exploding shells, but was not hit and did not lose consciousness. I remember thinking that I might be electrocuted by the falling wires, which actually posed very little danger when compared to
the enemy fire.

About the time the tanks stopped, other men in the ditch began to fire on the Germans with rifles and carbines. This only caused a halt by the armored vehicles, who continued firing at the men down slope in a more open area. They were being slaughtered and began waving white handkerchiefs to surrender. We knew the Germans would kill the men who had surrendered and were being held by them. Some of the men near me began waving white handkerchiefs and I made them stop. I was not trying to be heroic, but I was still stunned by the close shell bursts and was not thinking clearly. I, and those near me simply destroyed our weapons and walked the short distance to the German tanks when they called us to come out. The ditch I was in had about a foot of snow melt and I disassembled my carbine and dropped it and my binoculars in the water. John Toland’s book “Battle”, page 125 describes this battle, but the bazooka team he describes was not in our area. We had none and had received no help when I had called for such support. Major Moon and his headquarters group crossed the road before the arrival of the tanks. I was attempting to lead my men across when we were trapped at the culvert.

CAPTURE

Zak, in his book “Soldier Boy” describes better than I can, the feelings one has in this situation. I remember the senses of absolute frustration, anger, humiliation and shame. I do not remember any sense of fear at this time, but fear came in large doses in later circumstances. The majority of my Platoon as well as the majority of the Regiment had been cut off at the road and surrendered when the attack on Schonberg failed.

When we got to the tanks they separated me from the enlisted men. One of the German soldiers tried to make me give him my watch. We had been instructed, as officers, to demand respect from the German soldiers, if the situation allowed it. We were in the open, with German officers nearby, so I refused to give him my watch and told him I
wanted to see an officer. This made him mad, but before he could react, a German Captain Hauptman came up, said some harsh words to the soldier, grabbed me by the arm and shoved me toward an armored personnel carrier. He ordered me to get in it. He was an SS Officer and I found out later that the unit was the SS Fuhrer Begleit Brigade, an elite unit with the latest in German Armor. This unit had moved up to give weight to the attack. I found that the German soldiers were particularly upset because those of us near the road had fired on them after other Americans had surrendered, which we did not know at the time. This SS officer may have saved my life by intervening.

In any event, I and the other officers (members of the1st Battalion) were taken into Prum where we spent the night in a school, sleeping on the floor. Prum was crowded with all types of military personnel and units. Some were headquarters units in passenger autos, carrying strings of sausage and other baggage. The roads were so congested that German officers were angrily directing traffic so that their tanks and other vehicles could pass. Much of the German artillery was horse drawn.

Early the next morning, before daylight, we were marched to a town called Gerolstein where there was a railroad. I had not eaten for over 24 hours, except for the chocolate bar. We stopped for a break and noticed some beets in the field. We started to eat them raw, but were told that they were sugar beets with very little nourishment, and that these were just culls, left in the fields. When we were walking to the train I did see some of my men who were captured with me. One was Sergeant Lynch, whom I had sent to locate the others the night we became separated. I threw him the can of corned beef which I still had. It wasn’t long before I wished I still had it. The shock had begun to wear off and the Germans had given us nothing to eat. I began to feel hungry; a condition that stayed with me in varying degrees for the next five months.

THE TRAIN RIDE TO BAD ORB

Since most of the captive officers were older than me and outranked me, I soon realized that I had little access to information about our situation. I had no choice but to follow instructions and be as inconspicuous as possible. Because of our defeat and capture, I and many others had very little confidence in the leadership of our army.
Our feelings of betrayal, shame, frustration and loss were soon overshadowed by the necessity to adapt to the dangers and hardships we were to face.

When we had boarded the train at Gerolstein we were crammed into boxcars with no sanitary facilities or food. The train would move for a while and then stop. We had no idea where we were going and it was bitterly cold. I now know that we were on the main German rail line in the Rhine Valley. At one of the stops the Germans gave us some warm liquid they called coffee. It was not coffee and I have read that it was primarily made from acorns. We were given the same brew when we got to the camps. At one of these stops I saw the name Andernach on a station when the door was opened to give us the brew. This train ride lasted at least a week and there were some terrifying moments particularly at night when we were halted on some siding. We could hear the air raid sirens and were bombed. The train I was on was hit and a number of men were killed and hurt. During the bombing we would try to get out of the cars, but the guards would shoot anyone trying to leave the train. We were in raids Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I believe this was the first time we got any food. It was a small piece of brown bread and I learned later that sawdust was one of the ingredients. The terrible conditions of that week and the terror and helplessness during the bombings are impossible to describe.

THE CAMP AT BAD ORB

When the slow train ride came to a halt we were ordered out of the cars into much snow. The sign on the station read “BAD ORB”. I do not remember much about the camp, except that it was terribly overcrowded and dirty. I had my first hot meal which was some form of greens that we called the green hornet. It was one of the staples of prisoner diet. There was one small Irish potato with the skin on in my portion. I was so hungry it was like steak. I did not remain at Bad Orb very long but was moved by train to Hammelburg. I later learned that serious outbreaks of disease occurred at the camp at Bad Orb and that a number of prisoners died.

HAMMELBURG

When we first got to Hammelburg we were taken to a building that contained what appeared to be an arena with sawdust floor. It was unheated and bitterly cold. We were eventually assigned to barracks which appealed at first glance, as they were brick and reasonably clean. We settled into life which was boring with constant hunger and cold. Compared to the worst US Army barracks, this one was dirty and primitive, although palatial compared to Bad Orb. Since we were officers we were not assigned outside work details as in the case of the camps of enlisted men.

A typical day began when a detail from the prisoners delivered a large can of the liquid called coffee. The other meal was late afternoon and was thin soup or the “Green Hornet” greens. Once a week we were given a small ration of black bread with small amounts of margarine or an ersatz jam, which we were told was made from carrots, but was surprisingly tasty. There were no organized activities as this was a new camp and activities had not been arranged neither by the Germans nor the prisoners. Most of the day was spent in bed where there was some relief from the cold. There was a stove in the room ,but the ration of coal was so small that there was no heat most of the time. I remember being taken only one time to a place in the camp for a hot shower. The only clothes we had were the ones we had on when we were captured, except for one pair of some type of pajamas that we used for underwear. Most of us had been able to save our Army overcoats, which in my case, and in many others proved to be a lifesaver. The other lifesaver was the Red Cross packages. We received 2 or 3 while we were at Mammelburg. I will tell more about them later.

Once again, I was one of the lowest rank in the camp, and was not informed or not aware of some of the information available to the higher ranking prisoners. Information filtered down by rumor.

There were several things which helped to relieve the monotony. I found help in attending Catholic mass in the room of Father Kavanaugh. I have since read that he found that one of the Germans assigned to the camp was a priest who persuaded the Camp Commander to let him have the necessary supplies to hold these services on occasion. Another diversion was the nighttime visits in our barracks of Serbian Officers who had been imprisoned in another section of the camp. I have since learned that synce the Germans had not time to properly set up and supply Hammelburg to care fore the influx of Americans, many of whom were arriving from camps and areas in the East being invaded by the Russians, the Serbs let the Americans have some of their food and medical supplies. Our news of the progress of the war was mainly by rumor, and sometimes later in February and March recently captured Americans would be brought in who had some later information. As a general matter, we were aware that things were not going well for the Germans. We could see the large flights of American bombers flying overhead with increasing size and regularity.

We were not bothered much by the German guards, although we had to stand out in the cold twice a day for head counts. On one occasion one of our men was shot and killed by a guard while he was going to a separate latrine building at night. The guard was in one of the towers and there appeared to be no explanation for his actions.

I became infested with body lice called crabs and went to the infirmary to see if they could help me. To my surprise, I saw Louis Porterie, whom I had known at LSU. His father was a Federal Judge who corresponded with my Mother, when they knew we were in the same camp. We were classmates after the war. He found a small quantity of salve which did help with the lice.

Two or three times we were allowed to write short messages home, but I do not recall receiving any mail or packages from home. In fact, in the summer of 1945, when I was home, I did get several Christmas packages. Some of the candy and cake was still good.

Food was so often the subject of our conversations and thoughts that it became an obsession. We were all plagued with memories of past meals and food items we had taken for granted. This even included some of the Army food we had griped about. Some of us prepared detailed daily menus for meals we would have when we got home.

RED CROSS PACKAGES

These were small packages mainly of caned food which formed an important supplement to our diet, although they were not distributed often enough to satisfy our cravings. The packages, when available, were delivered one package to two men. We were called to a building where the packages were opened by a guard who punctured each can or package. We were told that this was done so the food could not be hoarded for use in the event of an escape. One package was from France, but all the rest from America. They contained items such as beans, meat pate and corned beef and powdered coffee. There were two items I had never seen before, which proved to be very important. One was Klim (powdered milk) and the other was M&M candy. The Klim cans were larger than others and some prisoners devised away to make a small stove out of the cans. Fueled with small twigs or wood shavings, we could make a hot drink of milk or coffee. The M&Ms and bars of Swan soap had other uses in our later trek from Nurmberg to Moosburg. The small quantities of cigarettes in the packages did not interest me because I did not smoke. I soon learned that they could be used as a barter item.

PATTON’S ABORTED RAID ON HAMMELBURG

To place this in perspective, it is necessary to understand some of the background. Near the end of March the Rhine had been crossed in several places and the Americans were facing crumbling opposition to their drive to the heart of Germany and the end of the war. One of the POWs at Hammelburg was Lt. Colonel John Waters who was married to Patton’s only daughter, and had been captured in North Africa. Patton denied knowing this, but writers on the subject have compiled substantial evidence that he did. Also, one of Patton’s Aides admitted that he was sent on the raid so that he could identify Colonel Waters. Evidence shows that Patton ordered the raid over the objections of his Division and Corps commanders, and without the knowledge or approval of Generals Bradley and Eisenhower, his superiors.

Two reasons have been advanced for Patton’s order. One was that he obviously wanted to rescue his son-in-law. The other, less plausible reason, was that he wanted equal or more publicity than General McArthur who had just liberated a large POW camp in the Philippines. Nevertheless, he ordered the 4th Armored Division to send a small force to Hammelburg and liberate it. This unit had a small number of tanks, some assault guns, some half-tracks and a small force of infantry. By the time it got to Hammelburg it had been greatly reduced by the opposition along the way. Patton’s only comment was that his only mistake was that he did not send a larger force. I knew none of this at the time, did not know Colonel Waters, or the identity of most of the POWs.

In the middle of March, the weather moderated and we heard rumors of Allied success. The dull routine continued, except that on sunny days, we could go out and sit in the sunshine. The guards made us go inside when a high flying bomber formation was passing over the camp.

March 27 there was a dramatic change in the camp routine when we heard gunfire which seemed close to the camp. Many rumors spread as to the cause. Father Kavanaugh had made arrangements to have a mass in a larger room. About 50 of us were in attendance. About noon there was a group shouting outside and some very close gunfire. Father ended the mass abruptly, gave us all an absolution and we lay down on the floor to avoid being struck by bullets or shrapnel. The firing stopped and we went outside to see what was happening. We saw many shouting, happy prisoners who said we were liberated by American tanks. I had a great feeling of relief and the belief that I was free again.

We went outside the camp to see the American forces that had come in. I was immediately concerned about the small size of the force and the condition of the men in the unit. They appeared tired, apprehensive and unwilling to communicate with what must have appeared to them as a large group of unorganized rabble. It was getting dark and word was passed that the main American forces were still about 40 miles to the west and that this small group intended to fight it’s way back to the American lines, and that it did not have room in it’s vehicles for the POWs. Most of us knew nothing about the Patton-Waters situation. The senior POWs said that we should go back to our rooms and wait for further developments. Most of the POWs returned to the camp, but a number did not. A friend and I decided that we would take our chances with the task force. It was not a wise decision, but we did not know all the circumstances. Our desire to get out of the prison dominated our action.

We had to find a place on one of the vehicles. All the half-tracks were full but 5 or 6 of us got on a Sherman tank. The column started out in the dark and move slowly, making frequent stops. We did not go far, but did go through a small village. Several times, the vehicles ahead of us were hit by hostile fire, including an anti-tank rocket known as a Panzerfaust. As the night wore on, it was apparent that we were not going to make it. The Germans were closing in. The column stopped and many of the soldiers simply fell asleep from exhaustion. The commander of the column eventually ordered the group to disperse and try to reach American lines on our own. We tried to slip through, but the Germans completely surrounded us. One of the task force and 2 or 3 of the POWs made it through. The Germans walked us back to camp, which we reached after daylight. After liberation I learned that I was entitled to a star in my campaign ribbon for the Central Europe Campaign, joining the Northern France and Ardennes campaigns. The Army said I had returned to American control for approximately 10 hours.

When we returned to the camp we learned that the POWs, except those in the infirmary, had been hastily marched out of camp. Those of us who had tried to escape, and the members of the task force who were now POWs were loaded into boxcars and taken to Nuremberg. This was a short trip and uneventful when compared to my earlier train ride.

The tragedies of the raid were; That Hammelburg was liberated about a week after the raid; That Col. Waters was shot and almost killed by a German guard; That many lost their lives or were severely injured during the raid; And several thousand, including the raiding party were subjected to another 5 weeks of captivity, in which a number died.

NUREMBERG AND MARCH TO MOOSBERG

When our train reached Nuremberg we joined a long column of other POWs, and marched to a hill on the outskirts, where for some reason we halted. This was in early April, about Easter. The day was clear and sunny and we had a good view of the city. We heard the noise of aircraft and saw a plane dropping some sort of smoke signal on the city. A flight of bombers appeared and dropped their bombs. This continued most of the day, with one flight after another dropping bombs. I learned that many POWs were killed in the railroad yards which we had left a few hours earlier. During the bombing we saw aluminum strips similar to Christmas tree icicles floating down. I learned from some of the Air Force POWs that this was aluminum chaff, designed to deflect German radar. One of the bundles did not open and fell near us. One of the POWs ran over to get it and the German guard began to shoot at him. I do not know whether or not he was hit, but it was a clear sign to us that our guards were nervous and not too happy to see one of their cities destroyed. This was also reflected in the attitude of the Germans, including the civilian refugees, mostly women and children, that we encountered on our march south toward Moosberg.

When our column of POWs left Nuremberg we were passing under a railroad trestle when we were bombed and strafed by at least one US P51 fighter plane. We scrambled into the shelter of roadside ditches and watched a second pass. We had to pass by what had been the head of the column and saw the dead and wounded POWs. There were body parts in the trees that lined the sides of the road. These planes could hardly miss since there was no anti-aircraft fire at all. We were enraged by this and had the Germans given us weapons, we would have used them in defense. The German guards, who by this time were elderly men called Volkstrum allowed us to put signs made of stone, metal or cloth on the hillsides with the initials POW and arrows pointing the way we were traveling. We hoped this would keep the Air Force from attacking the columns of POWs and refugees, who by this time were on the road heading south to get away from the fighting. In the case of my column, the signs were effective, except for one more strafing attack which scared us but caused no damage. I learned later that these attacks were by P51s flying out of England, whose mission was to protect the bombers from German fighters. At this time, the German Air Force had been defeated, and often the fighter escorts had nothing to do so they came down to attack ground targets.

Except for the problem of lack of food the march south through Bavaria was not too bad, even in our weak and emaciated condition. There were POWs from many nations all of whom appeared to be officers. I remember some Australians and New Zealanders who were captured in North Africa. There was some rumor to the effect that we were being moved to the Austrian Alps to be used as hostages. As stated, our guards were older men and they did not force long daily marches. At night, we would simply camp near a village and sleep where we could. Often we would find a barn, a shed or some other crude shelter. The weather had improved greatly and there were many warm sunny days. On this march we were met several times by white Red Cross trucks from Switzerland and received the Red Cross packages that sustained us. I don’t recall the Germans furnishing any food at all except one stop at a town called Neumarkt where we were given a type of dried pea soup. We were on a secondary road with no motor traffic and passed through a number of picturesque villages that were full of refugees from the cities. We did have some contact with the people and on occasion ere able to trade M&Ms with the children for potatoes. The women would trade food items for part of a Swan soap bar, and cigarettes were also a barter item. These trades were limited, because the people did not have a lot of food to trade with us. They would also have very little to do with Air Force people they called fliegers. This was the only indication of hostility I saw from the civilians and it was mild. Some of the villages we went through were Berching, Kelheim and Bellingries, where I spent the night on the stage of the local movie house. It was at one of these villages that women informed us of President Roosevelt’s death. We crossed the Danube River at a town called Neustadt on a bridge that had numerous large bombs strapped to it with wires indicating that it was prepared for demolition. In late April we came to the vicinity where there was a large POW camp. The word passed to us was that we would go into the camp rather than be caught between the retreating Germans and the US Army, and that because of the closeness of the Americans and the fact that the Germans were surrendering, we would be much safer in the camp than trying to contact the Americans on our own. Some did slip away, which was not hard to do. Those of us who had experienced the Hammelburg fiasco had no interest in trying to leave, took the advice that had passed down and entered the camp.

Moosburg was overcrowded. Conditions would have been very bad if we had been required to stay there for any length of time. Two or three days after we entered the camp there was a late spring snow and we noticed the German guards outside the fence without their rifles individually walking by. Their only response when we called them was “alles kaput”. We knew that meant liberation and shortly tanks of the 14th Armored Division entered the camp. Also General Patton showed up with his pearl handled pistols. I am sure some of us would have had questions for him had we known of his connection with the Hammelburg affair. In any event, I don’t recall any great sense of jubilation. I was probably emotionally exhausted and I was certainly physically exhausted. Of course I was glad that it appeared that liberation this time was final.

I did not remain in Moosburg very long and other than seeing Patton and the large number of troops and Armor, the only other event I remember well was the impressive Te Deum Mass. There were POWs in Moosburg from all Allied Nations. Very shortly after liberation the POW Catholic Chaplains organized this mass of thanksgiving. The leaders were Poles, with participation by English, US and others. The Mass was outdoors and the singing was beautiful,

THE JOURNEY HOME

I, with many other Americans were soon taken by trucks to a former German airfield near Ingolstadt, where we were divided into groups of about 25 each. There were a number of American C-47 transport planes lined up for us to enter. Before leaving, we had at least one scare when a German plane circled the field. We all jumped into some of the many holes cased by Allied bombing. This threat soon passed because the German plane landed. We were informed that the formal surrender had taken place and that this pilot was just coming in to surrender. We boarded the planes and landed at Rheims, France. We were put in a tent camp, relieved of our stinking clothes, allowed to shower and issued some used but CLEAN clothing. We were given quick physical examinations and I was assigned to a unit where we were allowed bed rest and given frequent, but very small quantities of nourishing food. After several days of this I began to feel much better and began to put on a little weight. I think I was at Rheims a week or ten days. I was taken by truck to Camp Lucky Strike, a large temporary camp near the Port of LeHavre. I have read of some reports of POWs about ill treatment at this camp, but I did not experience any. I was given some used uniforms, not in very good condition, but they were clean and I did not complain. General Eisenhower visited the camp and I heard he revoked the order limiting us to the camp. They allowed those of us who were able to make a trip to Paris. I was not quite up to this and did not feel that I had the proper uniform for it. I am sure there must have been some way of acquiring money, but I do not remember being paid. The routine at Lucky Strike was about the same as at Rheims. After about a week I was put in charge of what was called a packet of about 50 men. All were ex POWs from Louisiana and Mississippi. Most were enlisted men, but there were about 5 officers, mostly Air Force people.

In early June we were taken to LeHavre to board a transport for home. As we marched to the boat we passed French men who spat near us and made derogatory gestures and what sounded like insulting remarks, That port was heavily Communist, and it wouldn’t have taken much to have some retaliation, but most of us were so happy to leave Europe that we didn’t want to cause trouble. While I am sure these trash did not represent the feelings of the French people as a whole, it did leave a bad impression on us.

We boarded a transport named the Marine Robin and departed LeHavre in a convoy of a number of ships. After several days the convoy got the message that since the last German submarine had surrendered, the convoy could be broken up, and each ship could proceed on its own. The Marine Robin was much smaller than the Acquitania and we had a very pleasant voyage to New York. When we entered New York harbor, the vessels saluted us with whistles and horns. We went by ferry up the Hudson River to Camp Shanks, where I called home for the first time. My packet went by train to Mississippi, with a steam engine taking us the last several miles to Camp Shelby. We brother from Natchez was in my packet.

The only unpleasantness on the voyage home was the theft by the sailors of the small packet of souvenirs we had been given at LeHavre. I would like to have kept them, but this was typical of the situation where the people who got the souvenirs were those in the rear echelon who had the means to keep them while the troops doing the fighting were too busy trying to stay alive and had no way to keep anything, even though they were the first to occupy enemy territory. This is admittedly a selfish comment, but it is a feeling that is not unique to me. The only things I brought back were my dog tags, the dog tags given me by the Germans, my watch that I kept even though it had stopped working, some ragged uniforms and my life. I feel guilty for any selfish thoughts because I do continually thank God for bringing me back home in good condition. There were too many times when I came very close to death or severe injury. The real heroes are those under the white crosses or other monuments in the cemeteries, and I have no cause for bitterness or regrets. Not a day passes that I do not in some way recall some portion of the past.

A 19 year old Second Lieutenant at Fort Benning, Georgia

WORLD WAR II VETERANS CONCORDIA PARISH LOUISIANA

U.S. ARMY
Woodrow (Woody) Davis
EUROPEAN THEATER

Fifth Major Port Company Sergeant
WORLD WAR II VETERANS CONCORDIA PARISH LOUISIANA

Awards: European Theater of Operations Ribbon
With 2 Campaign Clusters
Purple Heart

I was born September 27, 1917 in Jonesville, Louisiana. I registered for the draft at Jonesville and Harrisonburg, Louisiana and was drafted into the Army at Fort Beauregard, Louisiana, December 23, 1942.

After a week at Fort Beauregard, we were sent by train, to Fort Francis E. Warren, Cheyenne, Wyoming. There I was selected to take training and school in the management of mobile laundry. I was told that I would have charge of six mobile units in Europe. These units, when operating, could do the laundry for a battalion of soldiers in a very short time. The units were not sent to us and I heard no more about them.

From Cheyenne we were sent to Camp Hatheway, Washington where we were issued clothing for the South Pacific. After about three months we went by train to Camp Stoneman, Pittsburg, California. We turned in the South Pacific clothes and were issued clothes for Europe.

From there, again by train, we went to New Jersey. In about two weeks, we were placed on a ship, an old passenger liner, the Aquatania, the last of the four stackers, which had been converted to a troop ship. After an unescorted three and one half days ship ride, we were in Glasgow, Scotland.

In Glasgow, we were put in and old, three story school building. The classrooms were around the outer walls, leaving us the open center, which was fairly comfortable for us. My outfit, the 14th Port of Embarkation was broken up and we were put into the 5th Major Port Company. This disturbed the Company Commander who made it hard for us. I was so concerned that I worked night and day to prove him wrong. I was successful.

We were in Glasgow until September 1944. Then, to Brest, France where we were to put the harbor into shape to unload supplies for the troops. After an examination, it was estimated that it would take five years to remove the sunken ships the Germans had put into the harbor. We were moved up to Morlaix, France to open a canal port, which we had operational in a short time.

When Antwerp, Belgium was taken from the Germans, I was sent with an advance detail of about one hundred ten men of diverse departments as the Supply Sergeant. I was given a letter designating me as a Sergeant in the field. My copy of this letter was destroyed in the fire that destroyed our home a few years ago.

We arrived in Antwerp Saturday November 24,1944. Three days later, November 27 a German V-2 rocket, exploded nearby. These V-2 rockets carried bombs loaded with many tons of explosives. They were fired from Germany without a particular target. Many fell in civilian neighborhoods, killing men, women and children. This particular bomb killed 200 people and wounded 700 more. I had over 100 wounds from my shoe tops to the top of my head, the worst being in my stomach, bladder and 10 holes in my intestines. A soldier from our company, immediately behind me, lost both legs. V-1 bombs were also falling, but those small pilotless planes could be seen and heard.

I was picked up, still conscious, by two civilian men in a small home-made truck and taken to a Canadian hospital in Antwerp. The nurses were Catholic Nuns, who were excellent nurses. The doctors who saved my life were Major Fred H. Wigmore of Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan and Captain Sormany. After about two weeks I was transferred to a United States hospital unit, where they almost let me die.

In a very short time, I was sent to a large tent hospital in Leige, Belgium. This was just before the breakthrough, the last desperate gasp of the German Army. We were not there very long because the “Buzz Bombs” were coming on a regular basis. One hit the mess tent at a time when no one was there, so no one was hurt. While in the Leige hospital I was taken several times to a tent laboratory where I was given blood transfusions. The blood came from German prisoners. This was a long way from the hospital, but they handled me like a baby.

Next, I was transferred by train to Paris, France. While on the track, a “Buzz Bomb” hit one of the tents and set it on fire. Many doctors, nurses and soldiers were killed. The train Commander was Fred Johnson, who later became my friend and neighbor, in Ferriday.

I arrived in Paris Christmas Eve, 1944. They had not had any air raids in Paris in several months, but on that night two German bombers came over, and we had an air raid warning that lasted a few minutes.

After a few days in the Paris hospital, I was again moved. This time to Wales in Great Britain, by plane. We had been in the air a few minutes when the engine on my side, quit. The pilot began a slow descent and landed at a fighter plane landing field. We did not know where we were where we were landing, so we were unnecessarily worried for a while.

We had not been at the field long, when a big explosion shook the plane very hard. Two fighter-bombers had brought their bombs back the night before, and were being disarmed, when one of the bombs exploded. We never knew how many were killed and injured. Another hospital plane was called for and we went on to Wales.

Again, we had a short stay in Wales before being put on a hospital ship, the Louis Pasteur, formerly a French passenger liner. We passed near Iceland, trying to avoid German submarines. We landed at Halifax, Canada. We went by train to Boston, Massachusetts and from there by train to New Orleans, where I went to La Gard Army Hospital. This was in March, 1945. I was given two recuperative furloughs. I was discharged July 11, 1945, with a 100 percent disability. This was changed a few months later, when I had recovered my health.

Photo taken at Cheyenne Wyoming during my Basic Training there.

WORLD WAR II VETERANS CONCORDIA PARISH LOUISIANA

CHINESE AMERICAN COMPOSITE WING
RICHARD C. DAGGETT
CHINA
28th Squadron, Third Fighter Group Captain Pilot P-40
Combat Experience———————-Shot Down on 31st Combat Mission
Awards: Air Medal
Purple Heart

I was born in Medford, Massachusetts, child of Mr. & Mrs. Fred Daggett. On December 7, 1941, “Pearl Harbor Day” I was a student at Colgate University. At Christmas time I packed my bags and went home to enlist in the Air Force. I was told that I would have to have two years college or the equivalent. I took the exam and luckily passed the requirements for the Cadet Corps.

After a weeks absence, I was sent to Montgomery, Alabama. So many had signed up that they were overcrowded, but tents took care of the overflow. In pre-flight school we were hurried through as we learned about engines, plane recognition, Morse code and what the Cadets did at West Point. We were issued rifles and gear, and on Sundays we marched in parades. When we went from one class to another, we jogged in formation.

From there we went to Primary Flying School in North Carolina. Our studies were accelerated and we began flying PT-17s, a bi-plane, covered with canvas, with a 220 horsepower motor. I soloed in 7 or 8 hours. Some washed out and were sent to bombardier or navigational schools.

Next, I was sent to Bainbridge, Georgia for Basic Training. We flew the B-13, with a 450 horsepower motor. It was called the Voltaire Vibrator, because it vibrated so badly. We did instrument flying covered with a hood. You had to do a check ride with a regular pilot, behind you, also under the hood. I did not do something quite right, so he took the stick, and banged my knees back and forth. This provoked me, so I banged his knees back and forth. This was dangerous, because he was an officer and I was just a cadet, but when we landed, he smiled and said, “I guess you will do all right.”

From there I went to Advanced Flying School at Moultrie, Georgia. We flew AT-6s which had larger engines, retractable landing gear and other features. There I earned my wings and as a Second Lieutenant, was given a leave. I was “ A Yankee from Up North” so I was sent to Harding Field at Baton Rouge. I was assigned to the 54th Fighter Group, 56th Squadron, a unit just returned from Alaska where they were flying P39s. At the time, it was sad to me that when we finished training, I was kept on as an instructor. Al my buddies went to Europe to fly P-51s.
I went to Hardng Field by train to New Orleans, and then by bus to Baton Rouge. They let service men on the bus first. After I was seated, two girls got on the bus and sat right behind me. After a stop in Gonzales, I started a conversation with the girls, mostly with one. I did something I had never done in my life. I asked for her name and telephone number. Her name was Eula Routh Wurster. She was a Coed at LSU. When we got settled in the Bachelor Officers Quarters, I called and asked for a date. The next night, the same story. Finally, she consented to an afternoon date with me. Something must have clicked because we started going pretty steady. I flew P-40s andP-51s in the daytime and we danced at night.

Our Group was moved to Bartow, Florida. I missed Routh very much, called her on the telephone at her home in Jonesville and proposed. This is a special story. Jonesville had an old telephone system with operators, who would take your call and then ring the number and connect you with the person you were calling. That night, the system was not working. I had to tell the operator what I wanted. In turn, she would tell Routh, get her reply, and repeat it to me. I was in that telephone booth for an hour, and the sweat was pouring off me. My buddy who was outside kept knocking on the phone booth, asking what was going on. Routh finally accepted my proposal. Routh and her sister came by train to Jacksonville, Florida, where they had to sit and wait for us. I told her I had a car. My buddy and I went AWOL to go get them and bring them to the hotel at Bartow. We were married on August 22, 1943.

We stayed in Florida until I shipped out in February 1944. A Major and I went to Goldsboro, North Carolina, enroute overseas. We left New York City on two baby flattops. I was on the Mission Bay. We traveled, with an escort of Canadian Destroyers, for more than forty days. We went on a zig-zag course, not knowing where we were headed. When we finally crossed the equator, we knew we were not going to Europe. We went around the coast of Africa and finally got to Cape Town. We even had dinner with some of the people there Then we went to Madascar and anchored. The harbor was full of the ships that had been destroyed. We went on to Karachi, Pakistan.

We were scheduled to fly over the Hump into Kunming. It was the monsoon season, and up in the Burma way, the weather was so bad that we had to spend two or three weeks waiting. Then we flew over the Hump in a C-47, over some of the lower mountains, not the highest one. It was rough terrain. I have never seen anything like it. I think that recently they have found a B-24 that crashed there. At Kunming I was assigned to the 5th Fighter Group, Chinese-American Composite Wing (half Chinese, half American). General Claire Chennault had a vision of training the Chinese in combat. These boys had been in the US a couple of years and sent back to China to learn combat. On each mission there were two American pilots and two Chinese pilots. This would be two elements of two planes each, a flight of four planes. I was first sent from Kunming to Qualing, a place the Japanese were about to take. That is the last time I saw my foot-locker. They flew us out to a place called Anshun, the base for the Chinese-American Composite Wing.

There I was assigned to the 28th Fighter Squadron,3rd Fighter Group, Chinese-American Composite Wing. The Major who was Squadron Commander, and happened to be at Luanchuan at the time, was going to fly me back to the base at Anshun. This P-40 (a single seater plane) had a little jump seat behind the pilot. You had to climb in through the baggage compartment, with a little place to sit, but no parachute. We finally got into the 28th Fighter Squadron.

Our group had B-25 bombers which we escorted. Most of our own missions were strafing. Of course, at times we were jumped by Zeros and had dog-fights. We had 650 caliber machine guns, three on each wing, controlled electrically. All six fired at the same time. Ammunition was stored in the wings. We had tracer bullets, smoke going out, incendiaries and regular shells. If we ran into tanks, we had the right ammunition. Every fifth shell was a tracer, to show us where we were shooting.

We were stationed in Central China at a little field surrounded by mountains on three sides. This meant that we had to take off and land in one direction. Instead of revetments, they had carved out the side of one mountain and made a big cave. At nighttime, we would taxi our planes into the cave to protect them from Japanese bombing. The Japanese would often send over a single bomber. We would stay in our sacks until the first bomb exploded and then head for the trenches. The Japanese sometimes dropped what they called banana bombs. These were small bombs in a big canister. When the canister fell, it would open up and scatter the little bombs about the field. Often they would fail to explode, and we would have live bombs across the field. The Chinese who controlled our area, would clear the field so that we could taxi and take-off.

Our missions on ground patrol were the most dangerous of all, because when you strafed troops or convoys, you had everyone shooting at you from close range. When you were at altitude in combat, you had one or two planes to deal with. Chennault had a pattern for flying that was effective. We flew in elements of two. One was the leader and the other the wing man. The leader did most of the shooting and the wing man’s job was to protect the tail of the leader. If the wing man was attacked, the leader had to drop back and protect him. We had self sealing gas tanks, armor plates on the cockpit and a windshield about four inches thick. The zeros did not have this extra weight and were more maneuverable. They could turn inside and shoot us down, so our technique was to dive down on them, shoot and keep going.

We also did river sweeps on the Yangtze not far from Hangzhou. We would shoot up sampans and everything that moved on the river, knowing that it was Japanese, not Chinese. One day on a river sweep, we did not see any sampans and started to fly to another area. Then a Chinese up ahead began to jabber in Chinese saying up ahead was a Japanese transport. The Chinese took after the transport and the two Americans followed. As we got closer, the Chinese began to wiggle his wings, as if friendly. A door flew out of the airplane and four people jumped. They tumbled and tumbled, three hitting in the water and the fourth apparently on dry land. They were not wearing parachutes.
We knew General Chennault was the in command, but we never g

ot to see him. Everything was flown in over the Hump. Gasoline came in drums, stored there, and rolled out to the plane for fueling. Wehad only one old truck which was a charcoal burner. There were some roads, but everyone walked. If you went into town, you had Chinese guards with you. Everything was polluted. If a pig was killed, it was hung outside and covered with flies. Kids follower you around saying “Ding How”. Thew knew we were there to help them. The Chinese did not have an Air Force when the Japanese invaded Manchuria in 1932.

The Chinese weren’t very tall. They did not have to shave. Some of the old men had little goatees that they had been growing all their lives. They had different classes. The coolies were the laborers.
We had a medical contingency with us, but the doctor was a veterinarian. All supplies were flown over the Hump. We had Chinese food and most of us had dysentery most of the time. It was very primitive. One difficult thing was trying to get mail in. We got mail only about every three months. If they sent cookies, they were hard as nails. During the winter, the weather was so bad we could not fly. Sometimes we did not have gasoline. Maps weren’t very accurate. It was lonely and pretty difficult, especially for the enlisted men. There was no place to spend money so most of it was sent home. Gaming took the rest of it quickly.

We only had 8 or 10 pilots. We had a maintenance officer and an intelligence officer. The rest were enlisted men. Spare parts were hard to come by. They used a lot of wire and substitute items to keep things together.

My first mission was interesting. As a bomber escort, we were flying top cover for B-25s. I think that every time you went into combat, you were scared to death. You overcame it as soon as you got into action. To me it was exciting, like playing a football game. On this mission I had my tail wheel shot off and I didn’t even know it, We had no fire extinguishing equipment, just a grass field to land on. The larger bases had thousands of coolies bringing in rock and making a composite strip (All hand labor).

Another mission we went on was led by a Major (later a Lt.Col.)
We left early, before daylight and saw a Japanese convoy. A motorcycle was leading the convoy. I literally saw him blow the rider off the motorcycle. We set everything afire and destroyed every vehicle. It must be a terrifying experience to have an airplane come in firing and strafing. There is no place to go except under a truck (if it is not burning). I killed a lot of people, but realized that was my job. The only thing that bothered me was to think back that it was someone’s son or husband.

I was shot down. We were on a mission and missed the factory. So we went back the next day, my 31st mission. We dive-bombed and strafed. As I pulled off the target, my airplane shuddered, so I knew that I was hit. As I climbed up, I was trailing smoke and knew that I would have to bail out. I rolled the canopy back and squatted on the seat behind the windshield. I turned the airplane with my left hand and was flying with the fingers of my left hand on the stick. I kept thinking, “How did they tell us how to get out of here?” When I was in the fifth grade we had to memorize the 23rd Psalm. I began to recite it, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death—” and became very calm. All of a sudden the airplane stalled, rolled over on its wing and I fell out. I was so low that my chute did not open, and I just fell between two wooded areas.

This was August 29,1944, a year and one week after I was married. My leg was injured, but I got out of my chute and threw it into the plane, which was burning. I took out my survival kit and was wearing my hip holster with my 45 caliber pistol. I saw someone coming over the hill, waving his arms. I realized that he was not trying to kill me if he was waving his arms. He came up and when he saw that I could not walk, he took me piggyback, into the woods. As I said earlier, these Chinese men were not very large.
Another grabbed me and carried me for a while. The Japanese were chasing us and my rescuers were exhausted. They set me on the ground and went in different directions. Finally, they came back with two poles. They put me on the poles, but my arms were so tired and weak that I fell off. They tied their shirts on the poles, and we traveled much faster.

At night we got to this little town, maybe the one we had bombed. I don’t know. They took me into a smoke filled room, possibly opium. It was filled with tough-looking Chinese men. They eyeballed me. I was completely at their mercy and did not know what to expect. We spent the night and just before daylight, they made a kind of stretcher and we took off. We came to a place and stayed there all day. We began to travel at night. This was all farms and farmhouses. At one place, they took the door off the farmhouse and placed it on saw horses for my bed.

We continued to travel at night. We had to live off the land and would go a day or two without eating. At one farmhouse, there was no one there, but there were several bowls of rice on the table. That pleased us and we started eating with our hands. Then, I noticed the rice was moving. It was filled with maggots, but we were so hungry that we did not stop eating. At these houses, they would bring their cattle, hogs and chickens in at night. In the towns, they did have plenty of pigs and chickens We even had some of their ten year old eggs. They were packed in clay and placed on a shelf. They didn’t look like eggs. The yolk was black and the white was transparent. They didn’t taste like eggs. In some cases we found noodles in the sheds.

One day, it was raining pretty hard, and they had me covered with a tarp. Two coolies were carrying me. The way they carried me was to put the bars (poles) on their shoulders, so I jogged up and down as they walked. Three guerrillas were with me. We found a good-sized shed, with boards running vertically, spaced about an inch apart for ventilation. We thought we would be able to get out of the rain. When we opened the door we found the shed packed with Chinese soldiers. They managed a space along the edge for me and I spent the night there. The soldiers were packed in so tight that they slept standing up. They swayed in unison all night. They coughed, but they had no medicine. All were eating garlic.

We kept moving from one place to another. One of my rescuers decided I needed a shave. At one place, he found an old straight razor and tried. The razor was so dull that the result was failure. Later, after no bath in three weeks, I tried to gesture that I wanted a bath. I knew a few words of Chinese, but they knew no English. I had to depend on them completely.

The first guerrilla who found me had his hand shot between the thumb and forefinger. This is what they did if they caught you stealing. I had him undo his bandage. He had a rag stuck into the wound. In my jungle kit, I had some sulfur and bandage. Later, he showed me that it was healing.

We went into one farmyard and found a big tub. After heating some water, with only men around, I climbed in the tub. Then came the women and children to see what an American looked like. I was so glad to have a hot bath that I could not be embarrassed. Then we got on a sampan and went down the river. One night, we camped with the Chinese Army who were opening a way for us to get through.

One morning the coolies carrying me were running. We came to some rice paddies and they stopped to rest. They were exhausted. One pointed up. The Japanese were coming. They started running along the river dike. The Japanese were shooting at us. The man in front slipped down and I went sailing out into the water. Bullets were kicking mud up all around us. We stopped at the first mound and huddled there. I did not even have a pocket knife. Each of the three guerrillas carried a pistol. After about an hour, we moved to another mound and finally worked our way out of there.

The most exciting time to me, was when they carried me over the mountains. We went up goat trails and they were still carrying me on their shoulders. I could look down and see the river far below. I looked only one time. We had traveled 28 days and they had not put a splint on my leg. It had just turned black from the injuries. We reached a place called Hoko. A plane carried me to Chenghai to the hospital. The Americans paid the Chinese $10,000 for each pilot brought in, so we can understand why the guerrillas worked so hard to save me. We had a lot of pilots shot down on our missions. One friend was captured by outlaws, who tried to trade him and then killed him.
I flew other missions, and later was sent back to Karachi, Pakistan to train replacement pilots. I came back to the States after the war was over in Europe.

Me and my Flying Tiger “PEEP & WEEP” in better days.

WORLD WAR II VETERANS CONCORDIA PARISH LOUISIANA

ARMY AIR FORCE
C.P. (PAT) CHENNAULT
EUROPE

433rd Squadron, 86th Fighter Wing Eighth Air Force, Lt. Col., Pilot P51

Combat Experience 300 Combat Hours over Europe

Awards: Distinguished Flying Cross
Air Medal with Seven Oak Leaf Clusters
European African Middle Eastern Campaign Medal
With 3 Bronze Stars
Credited with Destroying 2 Enemy Aircraft

I was born November 24, 1920 at Gilbert, Louisiana. I was what is referred to as an Army Brat. My father (Later to be known as General Claire Chennault, of the Flying Tigers) was stationed in Hawaii, San Antonio and Shreveport. So, military bases were my home until I was about 16 years old.

December 7, 1941, when World War II began, I was working at Natchez for Armstrong Tire and Rubber Company, I tried to enlist in the Army, but was rejected because one leg was shorter than the other. I went to welding school in Mississippi, hoping to get a welding job in the shipyards. Instead, I joined the Merchant Marines. I took two trips as fireman on a Troop Transport.

I found out about jobs with the Louisiana State Police, and in the summer of 1942, I was working as a radio operator for the State Police in Leesville. Bob Osborne, a State Trooper there, said he was going to Lake Charles to join the Air Force. I said, “ I am going with you.”

We took the written entrance exams and passed. I took the physical exam and I passed, getting a waiver for the problem of the short leg, with the requirement that one shoe be elevated. I came home, which was then Lake St. John and in September 1942 and went back to work for Armstrong Tire Company.

I was called to service in January 1943 and found myself at Santa Anna, California as an Air Force Cadet, attending pre-flight school. For Primary Flying School I went to Thunderbird No. 2, Phoenix, Arizona.
I completed this training in August 1943, flying PT-17s and PT-27s. Basic Flying School was at Pecos, Texas, where I flew BT-1312s, completing that phase of training in October, 1943. Advanced Flying School was at Luke Field, Phoenix, Arizona. Clsass 44-A graduated January 7, 1944 and I received my Pilot’s Wings and my Commission as a 2nd Lieutenant.

My next assignment was to Dale Mabry, Florida, learning to fly P-40s and P-47s. I graduated from there in June 1944. I had requested service in China, and had orders to go to China. The Commanding Officer called me into his office and said, “Your orders have been changed. You are going to England.”

I was assigned to the 376th Fighter Squadron of the 361st Fighter Group, Second Bomber Command of the 8th Air Force. Most of our missions were to escort the bombers on their missions. On the return to England, if a bomber was flying alone, out of the formation, we would escort the single plane. In one such instance, I was escorting a B-24 bomber. Just as we the reached the Channel, 7 men jumped and parachutes opened. Almost immediately the plane exploded.

I was promoted to First Lieutenant In December 1944 and Christmas Eve 1944 we moved to St. Deviad, France to support the “Battle of the Bulge”. April 1945 we moved to Sharf, Belgium to give closer support to our forces.

I had flown 72 Combat Missions and had more than 300 Combat Hours. I was elgible to come home. I returned to the United States April 16, 1945. I left the Service July 31, 1945, but decided that I had made a mistake and asked to return to the Service. I was accepted and had assignments as a P-51 flight instructor, first at Sarasota, Florida and then at Biggs Field, El Paso, Texas, the 431st Fighter Squadron, 475th Fighter Group. I was in Korea and saw service at Kimpo Korea. That overseas tour was from September 1946 to October 1948.

After Korea, I went to Greenville, South Carolina, the 316th Air Base Group, and was there from January to May, 1949. In June 1949 I went back to Europe for my third overseas tour. The Cold War was still going on. I was assigned to the 85th Fighter Group based at Neubiburg, Germany. In November 1949 I was promoted to Captain.

In September, 1952 I returned to the United States, and went to Alexandria Air Force Base at Alexandria, Louisiana, 366th Fighter Wing of the 9th Air Force, which in May 1955 became the England Air Force Base. There I was a Test Pilot for the 105 Jets, flying more than 1000 hours in that capacity.

November 1956 I was moved to Seymour Johnson Air Force Base, Goldsboro, North Carolina, where in 1957 I was promoted to Major. Next was a move to Eglin Air Force Base, Florida in July of 1958. I was named Command Pilot January 7, 1959. January 1962, a move back to Seymore Johnson Air Force Base, Goldsboro, North Carolina and a promotion to Lieutenant Colonel. McConnell Air Force Base in Kansas was my station from April 1964 until my retirement in 1966.

Interesting duty in peace time was providing armed escort (Armed Fighters) for special persons or occasions. On one such occasion I was escorting President Kennedy to and from the Carribean during the Cuban crisis, another was to escort Venzuelan President Bettingcourt From the Mexican Coast to Haiti, and from there to the South American Coast.

A third event was the escort for President Kennedy’s funeral.  Following my retirement in 1966, I moved to Ferriday and it has been my home ever since.

My Primary Flying School Group.
Of those standing, our Instructor was on the left and I was in the center.

WORLD WAR II VETERANS CONCORDIA PARISH LOUISIANA

NAVAL AIR FORCE

FRANKLIN N. (JIMMY) BURLEY

Fighter Squadron Eighteen

US Intrepid Third Fleet Pilot F6F Hellcat

Combat Missions: Okinawa, Formosa and Philippines

Japanese Battleship Fleet, Japanese Carrier Fllet

Credited with destroying 8 enemy aircraft September 6, 1944 to November 25, 1944

Awards: Silver Star

Air Medal with one Gold Star

Asiatic Pacific Campaign Ribbon

Philippine Liberation Ribbon with two Bronze Stars

Unit Commendation from Commander of Third Fleet

Listed as Naval Ace at Pensacola Naval Air Station

Franklin N. (Jimmy) Burley was born August 19, 1921 at Monterey, Louisiana son of Fillmore K. and Aletha B. Norfolk Burley, the fourth of six children.

He graduated from Monterey High School in June 1938 and entered Southwestern Louisiana University at Lafayette, Louisiana in September of 1938. While there he was a member of the Bulldog Squadron. He graduated June 15, 1942 and immediately entered the service at the United States Navel Air Station at New Orleans.

From there it was the U.S. Naval Air Station, Pensacola, Florida, arriving there September 16, 1942. After his flying training there on April 15, 1943 he was designated Naval Aviator. Training continued at Pensacola and Jacksonville, Florida and Norfolk, Virginia before going overseas.

July 25, 1943 Ensign Franklin N. Burley reported to the Composite Squadron Eighteen. May 7, 1944 Ensign Burley was promoted to Lieutenant, Junior Grade. Soon thereafter combat action began.

Burley was credited with destroying one enemy aircraft September 13, 1944, three on October 12, 1944 and four on October 21, 1944. (Probable hits were not counted). In addition the Eighteenth took part in the Fleet’s attacks on surface vessels.

Burley flew wing man to Cecil E. Harris, who with 24 planes to his credit was the second highest scoring ace in the Pacific. Harris gave much credit for his success to having such a good wing man. They were a team.

The September 24, 1944 report on total damage done by the Third Fleet was 122 ships and 61 small craft sunk, 37 ships and 109 small craft damaged, 380 planes shot down and 598 planes destroyed on the ground. They did crippling damage to airfield and naval establishments. Of course the Eighteenth Squadron was only a small part of this, but they were a part.

Jimmy Burley returned to the United States January 6, 1945 and was on leave from January 12 to February 12. He served at Alameda, California and Seattle, Washington until his release from the service September 30, 1945.

Jimmy did not remain idle. He went back to school and in 1946 had his Masters Degree in Agriculture from LSU. His first employment as a civilian was as Assistant County Agent at Rayville, Richland Parish.

In August 1946 he married Joyce Trible. To them, one daughter, Becky Lynn Burley was born. She arrived in 1948.

This fighter, who had survived so much wartime combat, acquired a brain tumor. After surgery at a V. A. hospital in Little Rock, the family was told that he probably could not expect to live more than two years. He died exactly twenty three months later, February 23, 1951.

 

Lloyd Love and Jimmy Burley, two Monterey school boys in 1938, little dreaming what was in their future.

Ensign Burley at home on leave before going overseas.

Lieutenant, Junior Grade Franklin N. Burley in Dress Uniform.

 

Information submitted by Imogen Burley Wallace King, his sister, who appreciates the fact that her brother Jimmy financed her college education, 1944 to 1946.

WORLD WAR II VETERANS CONCORDIA PARISH LOUISIANA

U.S. NAVY
MARION E. BARNETTE
PACIFIC THEATER
AIRMAN 3 C U.S. NAVAL RESERVE

Scouting Squadron 51 Naval Air Facility 129
Radio Operator and Gunner

Marion was born in Arcadia, Louisiana October 27, 1924. He moved from Baton Rouge to Concordia Parish in 1941, when his father became Manager of Concordia Electric Cooperative.

He attended Ferriday High School, but before graduation, enlisted in the Navy. This was October 20, 1942 (one week before his eighteenth birthday). After five weeks training in San Diego, he was given eleven days leave to go home and visit his parents, This really meant only three days, because eight days was spent traveling on the train. On this brief visit home he met his future wife. Their courtship was mainly corresponding by mail while he was in the service.

From San Diego he went overseas. His tour lasted 25 months, with no trip home. He was assigned to Scouting Squadron 51, as a radioman/gunner based at Pago Pago, Samoa. The scouting units were the eyes of the Navy, observing and reporting the location of all naval vessels.

The plane in which Marion flew was the Douglass Dauntless, which had earlier been used as a dive bomber. It was now a two-seater , with the pilot in front and the radioman/gunner in the rear. His records show that he crossed the equator January 13, 1943. Apparently he crossed the Equator again, because he returned home safely after the war.

Returning to the U.S. after leaving Samoa, he was granted a thirty day leave. Then he was stationed at the Naval Air Station, Jacksonville, Florida until his discharge. He was discharged from the service January 17, 1946.

He did not talk a lot about the war, but he did have some interesting stories. Twice, the plane was shot down. The first time, he and the pilot, Lieutenant Allen, spent five days on a rubber raft in the Pacific Ocean before they were rescued. This was the only time they were not sent right back on another scouting mission. The second time he was afloat for only 30 hours. He also told that when they had some free time— which was not often -– they would go island hopping. On one of these trips the pilot was hurt, so Marion had to fly the plane back to the base. It was a good thing that the pilot had taught him how to fly. Marion said the flying was OK, but the landing was not perfect. But, they got back in one piece.

On May 2, 1947 he and Polly Jacobs were married. They had two daughters, Myra and Kim.

Realizing that his early enlistment had cost him his high school diploma, he obtained that diploma through the G.E.D. program.

Returning to civilian life, Marion pursued several business ventures until 1949. Then he joined the Louisiana State Police, first as a Motorcycle Officer. After 20 years of service, he retired and was in the oil and gas business until his death in 1985.

Submitted by his wife, Polly Jacobs Barnette

Marion (on the left) with two of his Navy Buddies

Marion and Lieutenant Allen, his pilot

Korean War Veterans

Concordia Parish, Louisiana

James P. Watkins

James was born on November 1, 1927.
5 FC E 7
75th ECB – Korea
5th MSL BN Shreveport, LA
2nd BN (HERC) 51st ARTY, Ft. Baker, CA
4th BN 65th ARTY, Van Nuys, CA
2nd BN 562 ARTY, Alaska
MP DET #3, Ft. McClellan, AL

Date ent: December 15, 1950 to September 14, 1952
Date ent: June 14, 1952 to October 1, 1970

I was drafted into the Army December 15, 1950 and served during the Korean War. I was discharged September 1952, and re-enlisted in 1954. I graduated from Provost Marshal General School as Military Policeman, Fort Gordon, Georgia. I served three tours of duty in NIKE, AJAX, and Hercules Missile units in California. My last assignment was BN S-2 NCO in charge of all classified documents coming into BN HG. I retired October 1, 1972.