My granddad got terrible frost bite and trench foot during the Bulge. He had to be taken off the front and back to England for treatment in January '45. As long as I knew him, he hated being cold. He kept his house warm, and always had blankets nearby.
Your Grandfathers War Stories
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Last: 17 days ago by Jaydoug
Those of you commenting on the cold your relative dealt with during the Battle of the Bulge, I cannot fathom going through that cold. Every winter when we have a cold snap, I think of having to be out in that cold, only much, much colder, day after day, night after night, in the clothing of that time period which offered a lot less protection than what we have now, and unable to have a fire to keep warm(er) by much of the time. Damn.
One uncle I was very close to fought in the Pacific with the 77th ID. It was primarily a division made up of New York recruits. Their shoulder patch was the Statue of Liberty. During the later years of the war, many Texans were added to the 77th.
He was enrolled in sheet metal classes in Houston when Pearl Harbor was bombed. He went to work in San Diego at Consolidated airplane manufacturing and was given a deferment every 6 months because the plant made B36 bombers & PBY planes. After 3 deferments he decided to join the army because it didn't feel right to him staying in the states. He was inducted at Ft Sam Houston in San Antonio and took his basic at Camp Hood. He had additional training at Ft Ord in Calif, Ft Lewis in Washington and jungle training on Oahu. His specialty was operating the BAR. His outfit shipped out to Saipan to help mop up Japanese forces on the island. He talked about seeing civilians jump to their death because Japanese troops told them they would be abused by GI's. Next stop was Okinawa. His division (the 77th) fought near the Sugarloaf Hill area. On May 27, 1945, he & 2 other GI's were blown out of their foxhole. He was wounded and suffered a severe leg and back injury. He was found the next morning laying in the mud several yards from the foxhole. He was shipped to a hospital in Guam for 6 months. It was in Guam where heard that the atomic bombs had been dropped. Later the military shipped him to hospitals in San Fransisco, El Paso and eventually the army hospital in Temple, Tx, where he had several surgeries to repair bones and perform skin graphs on his leg. He died at age 97 and the scars were still visible on his leg.
He was enrolled in sheet metal classes in Houston when Pearl Harbor was bombed. He went to work in San Diego at Consolidated airplane manufacturing and was given a deferment every 6 months because the plant made B36 bombers & PBY planes. After 3 deferments he decided to join the army because it didn't feel right to him staying in the states. He was inducted at Ft Sam Houston in San Antonio and took his basic at Camp Hood. He had additional training at Ft Ord in Calif, Ft Lewis in Washington and jungle training on Oahu. His specialty was operating the BAR. His outfit shipped out to Saipan to help mop up Japanese forces on the island. He talked about seeing civilians jump to their death because Japanese troops told them they would be abused by GI's. Next stop was Okinawa. His division (the 77th) fought near the Sugarloaf Hill area. On May 27, 1945, he & 2 other GI's were blown out of their foxhole. He was wounded and suffered a severe leg and back injury. He was found the next morning laying in the mud several yards from the foxhole. He was shipped to a hospital in Guam for 6 months. It was in Guam where heard that the atomic bombs had been dropped. Later the military shipped him to hospitals in San Fransisco, El Paso and eventually the army hospital in Temple, Tx, where he had several surgeries to repair bones and perform skin graphs on his leg. He died at age 97 and the scars were still visible on his leg.
One grandfather was in Army training in central Texas when the war ended. He was a dairy farmer from Wisconsin. He met a young coed and they got married and moved back to Wisconsin for a few years, but her polio injuries were exacerbated by the cold, so they moved back to central Texas, and he farmed there for 49 years until he died of cancer in 1994.
Other grandfather was an avocado farmer from south Florida. Joined the Marines and served on the west coast where he met a Colonel's daughter at a base function. They got married and then he transferred to be an officer with the Marine detachment on the USS Missouri when it left for the western Pacific. Was on board when the surrender was signed in Tokyo Bay. Moved to South Caroline to be paymaster and run the farm at Parris Island until retirement.
Other grandfather was an avocado farmer from south Florida. Joined the Marines and served on the west coast where he met a Colonel's daughter at a base function. They got married and then he transferred to be an officer with the Marine detachment on the USS Missouri when it left for the western Pacific. Was on board when the surrender was signed in Tokyo Bay. Moved to South Caroline to be paymaster and run the farm at Parris Island until retirement.
Cen-Tex, here is what Tokyo Rose had to say about Sugar Loaf Hill a few days after May 20.
"Sugar Loaf Hill . . . Chocolate Drop . . . Strawberry Hill. Gee, those places sound wonderful! You can just see the candy houses with the white picket fences around them and the candy canes hanging from the trees, their red and white stripes glistening in the sun. But the only thing red about those places is the blood of Americans. Yes, sir, those are the names of hills in southern Okinawa where the fighting's so close that you get down to bayonets and sometimes your bare fists. Artillery and naval gunfire are all right when the enemy is far off but they don't do you any good when he's right in the same foxhole with you. I guess it's natural to idealize the worst places with pretty names to make them seem less awful. Why Sugar Loaf has changed hands so often it looks like Dante's Inferno. Yes, sir, Sugar Loaf Hill . . . Chocolate Drop . . . Strawberry Hill. They sound good, don't they? Only those who've been there know what they're really like."
"Sugar Loaf Hill . . . Chocolate Drop . . . Strawberry Hill. Gee, those places sound wonderful! You can just see the candy houses with the white picket fences around them and the candy canes hanging from the trees, their red and white stripes glistening in the sun. But the only thing red about those places is the blood of Americans. Yes, sir, those are the names of hills in southern Okinawa where the fighting's so close that you get down to bayonets and sometimes your bare fists. Artillery and naval gunfire are all right when the enemy is far off but they don't do you any good when he's right in the same foxhole with you. I guess it's natural to idealize the worst places with pretty names to make them seem less awful. Why Sugar Loaf has changed hands so often it looks like Dante's Inferno. Yes, sir, Sugar Loaf Hill . . . Chocolate Drop . . . Strawberry Hill. They sound good, don't they? Only those who've been there know what they're really like."
He mentioned being in his foxhole at night and clearly hearing Japanese soldiers talking just yards away.Quote:
Artillery and naval gunfire are all right when the enemy is far off but they don't do you any good when he's right in the same foxhole with you.
An embarrassing rather than a heroic one.
Grandpa was an airplane mechanic in the Navy. After each job, he was required to have the pilot sign some paperwork confirming it. Well, one time he forgot until the pilot got in the plane, so he climed up on the plane's wing to talk to the pilot. Who didn't notice him. And began his takeoff roll. So Grandpa fell to the deck and broke his tailbone.
On the bright side, hospital patients got better food to eat.
Grandpa was an airplane mechanic in the Navy. After each job, he was required to have the pilot sign some paperwork confirming it. Well, one time he forgot until the pilot got in the plane, so he climed up on the plane's wing to talk to the pilot. Who didn't notice him. And began his takeoff roll. So Grandpa fell to the deck and broke his tailbone.
On the bright side, hospital patients got better food to eat.
Yikes.BonfireNerd04 said:
An embarrassing rather than a heroic one.
Grandpa was an airplane mechanic in the Navy. After each job, he was required to have the pilot sign some paperwork confirming it. Well, one time he forgot until the pilot got in the plane, so he climed up on the plane's wing to talk to the pilot. Who didn't notice him. And began his takeoff roll. So Grandpa fell to the deck and broke his tailbone.
On the bright side, hospital patients got better food to eat.
My grandfather was a WWII Army Corps of Engineers Captain. Stationed on Okinawa after the fighting stopped building the B29 runways. There was a Japanese holdout in a cave and the CO told him to get someone from his company (?) to get him out or kill him. So, my Grandpa decided he could not ask his men to do what he was not willing to do, and crawled into the cave to try and get the guy to surrender. He tried several times to get him to give up (in broken Japanese) and the soldier would not surrender. So, he took his .45 and shot him. I'd heard this story second hand a few times from my father, but only in bits and pieces and not much detail because my grandfather just never talked about it.
One Easter my wife and I were visiting and in the hallway of his home looking at all the photos of his grandkids on the wall right by his bedroom. His bedroom door was open, and he was looking for something in his top dresser drawer and there is a white piece of cloth on top. My wife asked him "what is that?". He pulls out a Japanese battle flag and proceeds to tell my wife, in great detail, about what he did in Okinawa. I'd never once heard him ever refer to that incent before, or after. But you could have heard a pin drop for the 10m he told that story. When he was done, he ended with, "we were at war, and I did what I had to do to protect my men". That was it. I have no clue if he ever told anyone else except maybe another Uncle who was in the infantry with Patton in North Africa that story.
One Easter my wife and I were visiting and in the hallway of his home looking at all the photos of his grandkids on the wall right by his bedroom. His bedroom door was open, and he was looking for something in his top dresser drawer and there is a white piece of cloth on top. My wife asked him "what is that?". He pulls out a Japanese battle flag and proceeds to tell my wife, in great detail, about what he did in Okinawa. I'd never once heard him ever refer to that incent before, or after. But you could have heard a pin drop for the 10m he told that story. When he was done, he ended with, "we were at war, and I did what I had to do to protect my men". That was it. I have no clue if he ever told anyone else except maybe another Uncle who was in the infantry with Patton in North Africa that story.
Was always told he had nightmares about ww2 and didn't like to talk about it. so didn't ask much and don't know much. Wish I knew more, but don't regret not asking
https://ts.la/eric59704
I have mentioned that after my father died, I got in touch with several Marines in his Company and some in his platoon. Most of them were replacement troops that came in after Tarawa.07ag said:
Was always told he had nightmares about ww2 and didn't like to talk about it. so didn't ask much and don't know much. Wish I knew more, but don't regret not asking
Two of them mentioned Camp Tarawa on the Parker Ranch in Hawaii. They talked of hearing some of the Marines who had been on Tarawa scream in their sleep at night when they had nightmares or night terrors. One of them, a replacement, told me he and others wondered just what awaited them given how Tarawa had impacted some of those who had survive that fight.
My dad enlisted in the Navy September 1941 and became a corpsman. He would have been at Pearl Harbor except he came down with an appendicitis and had to have surgery in San Diego.
His service was on tank carriers in the pacific at Tarawa and Attu. He only mentioned one time watching a torpedo go by. He also spent time in a rescue unit, Squadron 6.
He was recalled for Korea and serve with the 1st Marine Division as a corpsman and was part of the lost division.
Here is a picture of one of the carriers he served on. The USS Nassau.
His service was on tank carriers in the pacific at Tarawa and Attu. He only mentioned one time watching a torpedo go by. He also spent time in a rescue unit, Squadron 6.
He was recalled for Korea and serve with the 1st Marine Division as a corpsman and was part of the lost division.
Here is a picture of one of the carriers he served on. The USS Nassau.
I am only superficially aware of what happened during the Korean War. What is the lost division?
Cinco Ranch Aggie said:
I am only superficially aware of what happened during the Korean War. What is the lost division?
I'm sure there are better historians here, but my understanding is that they were cut off for awhile by the Chinese.
I believe you're referring to the battle of the Chosin Reservoir. The 1st Marine Division was cut off and surrounded by 100,000 Chinese troops in temps that reached something like 65 below zero.
As Chesty Puller said: "They're on our left, they're on our right, they're in front of us, they're behind us…they can't get away this time. "
As Chesty Puller said: "They're on our left, they're on our right, they're in front of us, they're behind us…they can't get away this time. "
I know he was in replacement in the infantry, carried a BAR, and had shrapnel in his arm for the rest of his life from a treeburst. he fought in the Ardennes/Bastogne, not 100% sure thats where he earned the purple heartone safe place said:I have mentioned that after my father died, I got in touch with several Marines in his Company and some in his platoon. Most of them were replacement troops that came in after Tarawa.07ag said:
Was always told he had nightmares about ww2 and didn't like to talk about it. so didn't ask much and don't know much. Wish I knew more, but don't regret not asking
Two of them mentioned Camp Tarawa on the Parker Ranch in Hawaii. They talked of hearing some of the Marines who had been on Tarawa scream in their sleep at night when they had nightmares or night terrors. One of them, a replacement, told me he and others wondered just what awaited them given how Tarawa had impacted some of those who had survive that fight.
unfortunately his records were lost in the 1973 fire, but it has been many years since i've tried to do alot of research,, maybe something else has come to light since then.
as for reaching out to members of his company, as far as anyone alive knows, he didn't keep in touch with them and never went to a reunion type event
https://ts.la/eric59704
Some similarities we share. My dad also carried a BAR, and he had wounds on his right side from shrapnel, seven places as I recall. One small piece was not removed and from time to time was an irritant when he shaved. He did get a Purple Heart for that wound. There was another BAR man to his right and he received shrapnel wounds on his left side, some near his heart and he wound up going home. Dad was hit in the face in Garapan on Saipan, a ricochet, but did not turn in the wound. I talked to the Marine who was beside my dad when he was hit. He took him back to an aid station. They cleaned the wound and back he went to the fight. From the way he described my dad, and what my dad said and how he said it before and after being shot, was just such a surreal story and obvious it was true. Nearly cried hearing him tell the story.07ag said:I know he was in replacement in the infantry, carried a BAR, and had shrapnel in his arm for the rest of his life from a treeburst. he fought in the Ardennes/Bastogne, not 100% sure thats where he earned the purple heartone safe place said:I have mentioned that after my father died, I got in touch with several Marines in his Company and some in his platoon. Most of them were replacement troops that came in after Tarawa.07ag said:
Was always told he had nightmares about ww2 and didn't like to talk about it. so didn't ask much and don't know much. Wish I knew more, but don't regret not asking
Two of them mentioned Camp Tarawa on the Parker Ranch in Hawaii. They talked of hearing some of the Marines who had been on Tarawa scream in their sleep at night when they had nightmares or night terrors. One of them, a replacement, told me he and others wondered just what awaited them given how Tarawa had impacted some of those who had survive that fight.
unfortunately his records were lost in the 1973 fire, but it has been many years since i've tried to do alot of research,, maybe something else has come to light since then.
as for reaching out to members of his company, as far as anyone alive knows, he didn't keep in touch with them and never went to a reunion type event
My grandfathers WWI records were destroyed in the 1973 fire. They later were able to locate one document to put in his file, his discharge record. Might be worth another try to see if anything has surfaced.
I love your story.
Thanks. I saw an earlier response asking if what he went through created the friction with the rest of the family. I wonder that myself. It seems that the dogs that were dumped on him opened up a side that he had never let anyone see before.PaulDicton said:
I love your story.
Jim
My uncle's father was a tough man. He was born and raised in west Texas and had a ranch. As kids we would visit and I got to know him. He was old by then. He would sit in his chair and roll his own cigarettes. He would dare me to eat habaneros. What a character.
He was in WW1. Can you imagine being sent to France when all you know is west Texas? One of his stories was being on the front lines. He was gassed and bombed and knocked unconscious. He looked dead so they processed him and put him on a train in the box car with the others deceased. That's where he woke up. I'm not sure who was more surprised.
While in Paris, of course he runs into a pal of his from Big Spring.
He was in WW1. Can you imagine being sent to France when all you know is west Texas? One of his stories was being on the front lines. He was gassed and bombed and knocked unconscious. He looked dead so they processed him and put him on a train in the box car with the others deceased. That's where he woke up. I'm not sure who was more surprised.
While in Paris, of course he runs into a pal of his from Big Spring.
Speaking of west Texas, my parents met at Sul Ross State in Alpine, which is where my mother grew up. They married in Ft. Davis July 3, 1941. In January 1942 my dad joined the army, was shipped to basic training in Georgia then was sent to N. Africa to serve under Gen. Patton. He did not return to the states until 1945.
After N. Africa he went ashore in Sicily but never went in to Italy. From Sicily he was shipped to England to begin preparing for D Day. He went ashore on Omaha Beach, but fortunately for me not until the 3rd wave. Then fought in the Bulge, earning a Bronze Star and Silver Star.
He never talked much about the war except 3 things:
He thought he would freeze to death outside Bastogne and never ever wanted to be cold again
The worst memory he had was having to crawl into one of our tanks in which a German had thrown a handgrenade. His job was to retrieve the dog tags of the 3 soldiers who were killed in the explosion.
Two German officers surrendered to him while he was out in the woods taking a crap. He kept their swords, with scabards, that had swastikas on the swords and somehow got them home when he returned.
He never cared about the swords nor his medals. I played with the medals and pinned them on my GI Joes and threw darts at them. Swords, one of which had dried blood on the blade, I played with outside and left in the rain. After leaving for A&M I never saw the medals again but did keep the swords.
BUT, when the 50th anniversary of D Day approached my brother was able to get our Congressman to have the medals replaced and I found a guy who refurbished the swords. We put all that in a shadow box, along with an American flag our Congressman said had flown over the capital, and gave it to our dad on June 6, 1994.
My Aggie son has that shadow box hanging in his office.
My mother's best friend from her youth in Alpine had a son my age and we ended up at A&M at the same time. As adults we have become good friends. His father was part of the Normandy invasion and also fought through the Bulge.
He and I fly out May 20 for a Band of Brothers tour starting in Normandy, then Bastogne, Munich and Daucau then lastly go to The Eagles Nest.
To say we are excited is an understatement.
After N. Africa he went ashore in Sicily but never went in to Italy. From Sicily he was shipped to England to begin preparing for D Day. He went ashore on Omaha Beach, but fortunately for me not until the 3rd wave. Then fought in the Bulge, earning a Bronze Star and Silver Star.
He never talked much about the war except 3 things:
He thought he would freeze to death outside Bastogne and never ever wanted to be cold again
The worst memory he had was having to crawl into one of our tanks in which a German had thrown a handgrenade. His job was to retrieve the dog tags of the 3 soldiers who were killed in the explosion.
Two German officers surrendered to him while he was out in the woods taking a crap. He kept their swords, with scabards, that had swastikas on the swords and somehow got them home when he returned.
He never cared about the swords nor his medals. I played with the medals and pinned them on my GI Joes and threw darts at them. Swords, one of which had dried blood on the blade, I played with outside and left in the rain. After leaving for A&M I never saw the medals again but did keep the swords.
BUT, when the 50th anniversary of D Day approached my brother was able to get our Congressman to have the medals replaced and I found a guy who refurbished the swords. We put all that in a shadow box, along with an American flag our Congressman said had flown over the capital, and gave it to our dad on June 6, 1994.
My Aggie son has that shadow box hanging in his office.
My mother's best friend from her youth in Alpine had a son my age and we ended up at A&M at the same time. As adults we have become good friends. His father was part of the Normandy invasion and also fought through the Bulge.
He and I fly out May 20 for a Band of Brothers tour starting in Normandy, then Bastogne, Munich and Daucau then lastly go to The Eagles Nest.
To say we are excited is an understatement.
Another great example of "The Greatest Generation". Gig'em!!
My GF was a little to old and had children so he wasn't draft eligible. However, he worked as a heavy machine mechanic for the US Army Corps of Engineers building the Dennison Dam. He went to the Allis Chalmers factory in Springfield, IL for training.
I had two uncles that served in WWII.
One was SFC and boarded USS Ammen DD-527 in Feb of 1945 and saw action at Okinawa dodging kamikazees. He related many stories and was a real red ass GI Bill Aggie that was fearless. He would always talk about praying and passing ammunition. His battle station was a 40mm Bofurs amidship. Ammen covered the landings at Okinawa and spent the rest of the month on radar picket duty.
My other Uncle, landed at Omaha D+7 as an artillery officer. He flew in a Piper Cub and spotted positions. He recalled how the Germans fiercely defended positions at Falaise as he rained 155's on them. He also related that the Germans wouldn't shoot at his Cub as that would give away their positions. The few times he took fire, he would call in more 155's.
I learned alot about TOT...
I had two uncles that served in WWII.
One was SFC and boarded USS Ammen DD-527 in Feb of 1945 and saw action at Okinawa dodging kamikazees. He related many stories and was a real red ass GI Bill Aggie that was fearless. He would always talk about praying and passing ammunition. His battle station was a 40mm Bofurs amidship. Ammen covered the landings at Okinawa and spent the rest of the month on radar picket duty.
My other Uncle, landed at Omaha D+7 as an artillery officer. He flew in a Piper Cub and spotted positions. He recalled how the Germans fiercely defended positions at Falaise as he rained 155's on them. He also related that the Germans wouldn't shoot at his Cub as that would give away their positions. The few times he took fire, he would call in more 155's.
I learned alot about TOT...
Got a Natty! said:
Speaking of west Texas, my parents met at Sul Ross State in Alpine, which is where my mother grew up. They married in Ft. Davis July 3, 1941. In January 1942 my dad joined the army, was shipped to basic training in Georgia then was sent to N. Africa to serve under Gen. Patton. He did not return to the states until 1945.
After N. Africa he went ashore in Sicily but never went in to Italy. From Sicily he was shipped to England to begin preparing for D Day. He went ashore on Omaha Beach, but fortunately for me not until the 3rd wave. Then fought in the Bulge, earning a Bronze Star and Silver Star.
He never talked much about the war except 3 things:
He thought he would freeze to death outside Bastogne and never ever wanted to be cold again
The worst memory he had was having to crawl into one of our tanks in which a German had thrown a handgrenade. His job was to retrieve the dog tags of the 3 soldiers who were killed in the explosion.
Two German officers surrendered to him while he was out in the woods taking a crap. He kept their swords, with scabards, that had swastikas on the swords and somehow got them home when he returned.
He never cared about the swords nor his medals. I played with the medals and pinned them on my GI Joes and threw darts at them. Swords, one of which had dried blood on the blade, I played with outside and left in the rain. After leaving for A&M I never saw the medals again but did keep the swords.
BUT, when the 50th anniversary of D Day approached my brother was able to get our Congressman to have the medals replaced and I found a guy who refurbished the swords. We put all that in a shadow box, along with an American flag our Congressman said had flown over the capital, and gave it to our dad on June 6, 1994.
My Aggie son has that shadow box hanging in his office.
My mother's best friend from her youth in Alpine had a son my age and we ended up at A&M at the same time. As adults we have become good friends. His father was part of the Normandy invasion and also fought through the Bulge.
He and I fly out May 20 for a Band of Brothers tour starting in Normandy, then Bastogne, Munich and Daucau then lastly go to The Eagles Nest.
To say we are excited is an understatement.
You are absolutely going to love that trip. I've never been on a Band of Brothers tour but I've been to all those places, and Normandy, many times.
My dad was a B-24 bombardier, 29 missions out of England. Every mission is in this website, each with an AAR, along with pictures, personal recollections, etc.
https://b24.net/
That's a great website for history in that time. Does not matter if our fathers were in those planes or not.
Thanks.
My friend who is going with me has one of the biggest ranches in the Alpine area. And, as with most ranchers who do not raise pump jacks, he has never been to Europe. We have 2 days in Paris, on our own, before the tour starts. This will be a hoot. Just hope these 2 west Texas Aggies don't get thrown in jail for hate speech!
Thanks.
My friend who is going with me has one of the biggest ranches in the Alpine area. And, as with most ranchers who do not raise pump jacks, he has never been to Europe. We have 2 days in Paris, on our own, before the tour starts. This will be a hoot. Just hope these 2 west Texas Aggies don't get thrown in jail for hate speech!
Paris is to France what New York is to the United States- try to not let your experiences there color your view of every Frenchman you meet.
My personal technique for dealing with French haughtiness & rudeness -which exist in Paris the same way that ice exists in the Arctic- is to get up and leave: is the waiter surly? Stand up and leave- there are other cafes. Did the bartender sneer at you because you asked for ice? Wheel about and leave- there are other bars. And the people in rural France are delightful.
My personal technique for dealing with French haughtiness & rudeness -which exist in Paris the same way that ice exists in the Arctic- is to get up and leave: is the waiter surly? Stand up and leave- there are other cafes. Did the bartender sneer at you because you asked for ice? Wheel about and leave- there are other bars. And the people in rural France are delightful.
Thanks for that good tip.
I concur with some of 12thMan's post about Paris, especially around tourist hot spots in the Summer (e.g., the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Notre Dame, Montmartre), but once you're done with the "obligatory" tourist attractions, take some time to explore a little further afield and use your mapping app to find restaurants and cafes off the beaten path. Since we're on the History page, try going to the Musee de l'Armee and Musee de Cluny.
If you can get out to rural France, folks aren't as hurried and fashion-conscious. It's laid back and the food and wine are fabulous. Also try speaking some French - you'll sound ridiculous, but they appreciate it.
Now, back to some war stories.
If you can get out to rural France, folks aren't as hurried and fashion-conscious. It's laid back and the food and wine are fabulous. Also try speaking some French - you'll sound ridiculous, but they appreciate it.
Now, back to some war stories.
We are spending 5 nights in Normandy. That will be enjoyable.
Got a Natty! said:
We are spending 5 nights in Normandy. That will be enjoyable.
I spent 8 days in Normandy 2 years ago
I had a car and a map and visited as many sites possible from the Sword to Utah, Carentan, St Mere Eglise, Ste marie du mont, etc.
Enjoy your time there
Got a Natty!
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Not WWII, but this is my Dad's war story from Korea. In June 1950, he was a Signal Corps sergeant in Japan and got hurried orders to load up his team and fly to Korea to help Eighth Army establish a forward Headquarters. So, they flew into some airfield with a planeload of commo gear and code books. While his team unloaded, they heard artillery in the distance, and Dad went to find the HQ advance party. The situation there was a soup sandwich. He eventually found another sergeant whom he recognized who told him the officers had all left and he was packing up a truck to head south. In the meantime, the artillery fire was getting closer.
After trying to find an empty truck, Dad commandeered a South Korean jeep and went back to the airfield to get his guys. The plane was gone and the commo gear was too bulky to move by a single jeep, so they torched it with a thermite grenade, then joined the retreat to Pusan. Dad eventually got sent back to Japan where he served on MacArthur's staff and later took a direct commission.
After trying to find an empty truck, Dad commandeered a South Korean jeep and went back to the airfield to get his guys. The plane was gone and the commo gear was too bulky to move by a single jeep, so they torched it with a thermite grenade, then joined the retreat to Pusan. Dad eventually got sent back to Japan where he served on MacArthur's staff and later took a direct commission.
Had a great uncle that lost his leg at the knee in WW2.
His family didn't have any knowledge of him being wounded or his leg amputated until one day they spotted him coming up the road on crutches.
He never talked about the war. His eldest son didn't know anything about it, not where he served nor how he lost his leg.
So recently I took a photograph they had of him and found his regiment by his arm patch, found his paperwork in the regimental archives, and found the action report where he was wounded. Was hit by mortar shrapnel after crossing an river and laid wounded all night until he was found the next day. Gangrene had set in by then.
Sent all of the information/reports I found to his son, who was very appreciative.
His family didn't have any knowledge of him being wounded or his leg amputated until one day they spotted him coming up the road on crutches.
He never talked about the war. His eldest son didn't know anything about it, not where he served nor how he lost his leg.
So recently I took a photograph they had of him and found his regiment by his arm patch, found his paperwork in the regimental archives, and found the action report where he was wounded. Was hit by mortar shrapnel after crossing an river and laid wounded all night until he was found the next day. Gangrene had set in by then.
Sent all of the information/reports I found to his son, who was very appreciative.
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in Billy Liucci's TexAgs Premium
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