Company History

 NOTE:  This History of the 841st was written in May, 1945, by T/4 James J. Sirmans, with help from a few other members of the company.   It was typed, copied and distributed to everyone at that time.  Upon finding this "original" in my Dad's records, I decided to attach the "original", but I also wanted to provide a "cleaner, easier to read" version, with corrections for any "typos", or misspellings.  Many of those were easy fixes, with some for "slang" terms, or "Army jargon".  Most of my "questionable items" regarded the correct names and spellings of the many towns and villages, that are included throughout this tour of duty for the 841st. Luckily, besides the actual history, this original document included the Roster of the members, (with addresses), the Commendation letters, and 4 pages of the chronological tour of operations for this company. Referring back to this list of locations, as villages and towns are mentioned, and then researching on the Web for location names and on maps provided,  I have done a cursory review, and corrected many.  I will continue to complete that review and correction, as best as possible.  My plan is to also create a map of this entire operation, based on the chronology, and then post it here on this site.   (DH)

HISTORY

OF THE

  841ST ORDNANCE DEPOT COMPANY

FROM ITS ACTIVATION

 UNTIL

MAY 8, 1945

By

 T/4 James J. Sirmans

        The author is grateful to S/Sgt Charles Marks, who wrote the first seven pages of this history, and whose ideas and suggestions have been  very helpful; and to T/Sgt Michael Caffey, who contributed the section dealing with activities at Warminster, England.

        Also, many thanks to T/5 Harry Perun for his advice and recollections of France. Appreciation is wholeheartedly extended to every member of the company, without whose contributions our history could not have been recorded.

        Burlengenfeld, Germany

        June 24, 1945

 INTRODUCTION

    The life of the 841st Ordnance Depot Co. in World War II is divided into three phases, the second of which was completed with V.E. Day and the third in another theater still lies ahead at this writing.

    Phase 1 training and preparation was more or less routine, and was outstanding only by the enthusiasm of the men in learning their tasks and the spirit shown in the long hours of work, which paved the way for the brilliant record of phase II - the first primary mission - Continental Operations Europe.

    Phase II started on August l, 1944 with our first operations in France and continued until V. E. Day on May 9, 1945.

    The following things not recorded in the History but which were of paramount interest to Third U.S. Army were the following:

                During Phase II we received from Base Depots, which averaged 85 miles to our rear, 5920 Tons of spare parts, and issued to using troops 6010  Tons of spare parts.

                We came from England with a basic load of 230 Tons and finished operations at Regen, Germany V.E. Day with 140 Tons of spare parts. On Major Items we received and issued a total of 107,111 which were composed as follows:

                                        SNL Group A  -----------------------     6205

                                        SNL Group B  -----------------------     83594

                                        SNL Group C & D  -----------------    151

                                        SNL Group F  -----------------------    13085

                                        SNL Group G  -----------------------    4076

                                        Combat Vehicles  -------------------    586

                                        Special Purpose Vehicles  -------     591

                                        General Purpose Vehicles  ------     2899

    Operations as a Forward Depot were carried on 21% of the time in Army Zone (Army Zone operations were in the City of Luxembourg during the Battle of the Ardennes), 27% of' the time in Corps Zone, and 52% of the time within Division Zones.

    Our convoys which averaged over 80 vehicles, all of which carried from 10% to 100% overload traveled a zigzag course of 1598 miles from Utah Beach to Regen, Germany, without a single accident or breakdown that necessitated the evacuation of the vehicle.  Hauling of supplies other than unit convoys covered approximately 750,000 Ton Miles, without an accident or breakdown that necessitated evacuation of a vehicle. 4076 vehicles were brought up for issue to using units, many in convoys direct from the beaches, with the loss of only two vehicles, one Half-track, and one Jeep.

    Our largest customers were the 5th and 80th Infantry Divisions, 4th Armored, and 2nd French Armored Divisions. Of Ordnance Maintenance Companies the 501st H. M. TK. and 32nd Ord. MM Company were our largest customers.

    The largest volume of any week of operations was the week of Jan. 20 to Jan. 27, 1945 when 518 Tons of parts were received and 490 Tons of parts were issued. At this period we were in direct support of 4th, 5th, 76th, & 80th Infantry Divisions, 12th Corps Troops, maintenance Companies of the 314th Ordnance Bn. and in auxiliary support of the 4th Armored Divisions, and vicinity Army Troops.

    The mission and theater of operations for Phase III are unknown, but the organization has good morale, and a well-trained group below 85 points, and whatever the mission or the location will find us ready to carry service to the fighting troops in an efficient and commendable manner.

L.C. Fuller

Capt. Ord. Dept.,

Commanding- June 24, 1943 to ____________

Fort Knox, Kentucky

    Little did anyone dream on that day of June 24, 1943, as this company was officially activated as the 841st Ordnance Depot Company in Fort Knox, Kentucky, that we would contribute so much to this, the greatest of all wars. Very likely Major Hughes, commander of the 350th Ordnance Battalion, to which we were attached, looked askance at our commanding officer, 1st Lt. Lenard C. Fuller, as he presented the five young 2nd Lts. that were to assist him in making, directing and utilizing the destinies of the 150 raw, new initiated recruits that were to eventfully comprise this company.

    These officers were to be ably assisted by a cadre of 18 men, of all rank, age, type and personality that came to Knox under Victor V. Robertson, 2nd Lt, from the 349th Ordnance Motor Transportation Company, of Camp Atterbury, Indiana.

    In the next three months the greater part of the cadre and several new men who had entered the company operated the 26th Ordnance Battalion Supply Control Point, garnering and learning valuable pointers and information about the multi-procedures of ordnance work which were to stand us in such good stead later on.

    Several men with ability along teaching and instructing lines were chosen to be drilled, trained and educated militarily and in the policies that were to be pertinent to this company's progress, under the tutelage of our very observant officers.

    The nucleus of our company by this time was proceeding quite smoothly the raw edges, reticence and backwardness that always attend embryo organizations had been for the most part worn off, reduced and discouraged; our officers had learned to know us and we them.  Our final members to be added to our original rank were T/Sgt Stanley P. Kacaba, who was to relieve M/Sgt Wayne M. McCabe, who had temporarily filled the spot of 1st Sgt. Camp Swift Texas' loss was our gain, as Stanislaus left the 303rd Anti-Tank to take his chances with the 841st. 

    August 25th, 1943, we fortunately gained W.O (jg) Calvin J. Semple for our supply officer.  This filled our complement of officers.

    We continued our preparations and designed a very rigid and thorough training schedule for anticipated “rookies”.  Young, sincere 2nd Lt William E. Reynolds tirelessly devoted his energies to this since he was our Plans and Training Officer.  As the detailed work that this schedule entailed was more than enough for two men,  Lt Reynolds had as his assistant S/Sgt Michael D. Caffey.

    Our tranquil, flexible atmosphere was badly shattered on October 3rd as the first contingent of our future comrades and buddies arrived from Fort McPherson, Georgia - a great crew, all kinds of boys and men; some red cheeked, unacquainted with a razor, timid, awed and terrifically homesick - mere children; others, men with families - men with ability, background, stable, substantial citizens, not timid or awed, rather skeptical and filled with doubts. We had no more bedded these men down, so to speak, when the second and last group, from the same fort arrived, October 7th.   These were counterparts of their now already more confident and reconciled pals who stood about in little groups with an air superiority that the short space of four days had lent them.

    We were now a unit, and officers and men alike realized that a tremendous task lay in front of us. We all knew that the ensuing 13 weeks were not going to be a sleigh ride. It would be all work, and then more work.

    The backgrounds and disposition of the new men were widely unrelated. Reactions, desires and ambitions were tremendously different. Each man was an individual, an absolute problem by himself.  Each still had the attitudes and habits of a civilian.  Each fiercely clung to each fast fleeting privilege that he enjoyed before that blackest of all days ~ -greeting day from the President. Regimentation was an exact contradiction of every tenet, ideal and habit they ever possessed. So began the process of building and developing soldiers and ordnance men of the 841st.

    Starting early in October the "rebels", as they were then affectionately called, began to learn of the mysteries that made up soldiering.  From the crack of dawn until late at night they were launched.   Drilled, taught, shouted at, harassed, implored and cajoled -not a free second did they have, not a minute to lose, not an hour to spare.  Unnecessary they thought, but it all had rhyme and reason.  Slowly the men became more apt, less self-conscious; several assumed an air of' attentive confidence; several gave up, others halfheartedly attempted to put out, some grasped it quickly and clearly, others slowly and with difficulty; nevertheless, all were exposed to it.  It was not hard to distinguish those who were paying attention and sincerely trying.  Naturally, in a group as large as this there were several that cuffed their way, or brown nosed, but everyone soon angled wise, and the way for the smart aleck became rougher. Just as naturally, too, were those who tried with all they had yet couldn't get it; they grinned at the pleas, the explanations, yes, and even at the threats of extra drill and work of energetic, enthusiastic Lt Jesse B. Lanham.

    The weather was perfect for our work  - cool, snappy mornings, ideal for the physical culture and setting up exercises that began each day. The men groaned and cussed this seemingly waste of time, but they did it. Unknown to themselves, they put on weight, picked up a better carriage and posture, and looked healthier and were quicker on the draw. This was not all due to calisthenics alone, as everybody took part in the daily hours of close order drill, and in the frequent long hikes. Those old civilian muscles were strengthened, new ones developed and brought into play.

    The outdoors life, good, wholesome food in abundance, regularity of personal habits all contributed a bit to the improved health and appearance of these rookies.

    For the first few days, the Lt. and the non-coms yelled themselves hoarse, almost as bewildered at the ineptitude of the men as were the men at themselves.  Never before had they ever had any trouble in knowing the left hand from the right; never before had it been so hard to walk erectly and precisely with a rhythm and cadence; never before had they wanted to take other human necks in their hands and squeeze them until those raucous, insistent, irking voices ceased, as they wanted it today.  This was during the first weeks of drill.  The popularity of Lts. and non-com was minus zero.  Then suddenly, like a bolt out of the blue, a most noticeable degree of skill was present, the men responded to orders and encouraged each other; they began to take a pride in their accomplishments.  A sense of rivalry sprang up between the three platoons; marching from class to class became a pleasure instead of a drudge.  Execution of commands was correct and snappy.  It’s easy to recall us flowing over the hill, to building 110,  a smooth, jaunty company of men;  men beginning to assimilate the teaching; men because of this beginning to exude confidence and a “show me more” attitude.

  The guidon of the 841st that was carried in every formation now was well escorted.  We were on our way, and if our ability at marching was any criterion we would improve continually and quickly.

  While all this training was progressing, the 26th Ordnance Control Point was working well and tirelessly.  Lts. Orton and Robertson with their crew of ordnance men were doing more than a day’s work.

  Captain Fuller had, as he said, every reason to be proud of his maturing company.  Battalion continually had its eagle eye on us, their proximity to our quarters further led to the ease with which to snoop and peep.  They always managed, regardless of our own company duties, to find us more work of theirs to do.  It was done,  too, and well.

  Our barracks were immaculate, everything shone; shoes were mirrors under beds, clothes were carefully and neatly hung, beds were exact oblongs of khaki perfection.  Latrines were irreproachable.  The men were learning the first lessons of personal care and care for environs well.  The soldier’s first step toward 100% efficiency – “care of self” had already become an integral part of every man’s daily life.  Every barrack was a reflection of the effort and pride of the men it housed.

  Our program continued. Sgt. Caffey and Lt. Reynolds, with information and directives furnished by the Fort Knox Plans and Training Office, saw to it that no phase of a good soldier’s education was neglected or overlooked.  None of us will forget the illuminating hours, the tedious, monotonous hours, the hours of fun and laughter; the aggravating and muscle-irking hours that we underwent as we practiced in dry runs (the soldiers nightmare and bugaboo) on the rifle range.  "Joes" couldn’t understand, being good shots in the pursuit of civilian hunting and sports, why it was so hard to accept the proven efficient positions that the army so demandingly necessitated.  It was difficult to visualize that possibly some fair day this art of marksmanship could ever prove an important cog in our military machine.  After days of tiresome effort we went to the range and put our technical learning in actual practice.  It was on the range that the men found that the army knew what it spoke.  Our results were gratifying, to say the least, as the majority qualified with their assigned weapon.

  We studied map reading and all its mystical symbols; we studied and learned the intricacies of a compass, and then to prove ourselves we put the company to a test at night over a complicated course through woods, swamps, mud and fields.

  Chemical warfare was subject of interest during the study of which many hours were spent on charts, sniff-sets, trying masks out by taking them on and off by the numbers, and otherwise.

  First Aid played a big part in our training.  The men were well versed in this as many had learned it in civilian life.  Much humor and horseplay accompanied these hours as men were subjected to act as model and victim.

  Camouflage probably consumed the largest proportion of time as this was a factor vitally necessary to our future passive defense as a mobile ordnance depot.  Hours and hours Lt Reynolds talked, explained and demonstrated the many techniques employed to confuse, deceive and thwart the prying eyes of the enemy.

  Military courtesy was always preached to the men; personal hygiene and self-respect as soldiers were always the order of the day.  MR. Semple, a good example himself, was the officer in charge.

  Men were taught to drive tanks, trucks and vehicles of all descriptions, and the better drivers picked as permanent members of the motor pool.

  We had two bivouacs - one a week of ideal weather and a thorough review from the side of practical application, which was both interesting and enjoyable.  We hiked, scouted and patrolled, pitched tents, operated under blackout conditions, and had simulated invasions.  For many, at the end of this first bivouac, a Thanksgiving pass was waiting.  After this the men felt more like real soldiers and much more concerned with their learning and interest.  The second bivouac was a repetition of the first, only most of it was done under water, as it rained for three days a veritable deluge.  It was on this bivouac that the men drove light and medium tanks and half-tracks over hills and dales, through woods and fields.  Everyone enjoyed this even if it was nearer to actual war than anything any of them had ever experienced along this line.

  Scouting and patrolling, while for the most part an infantryman’s schooling, was added to our curriculum for what it was worth.

  Internal security was the most important part of our entire recruit training.  It was reviewed, stressed and re-stressed.  We pulled guard duty for the Battalion every fifth or sixth day, sometimes oftener.  This training was to stand us in good stead sooner and in more dangerous surroundings than anyone ever dreamed of back there in tranquil Fort Knox.

  Day in and day out we studied, applied, demonstrated and corrected, modified and improved all and every subject that ordnance and army demanded that U.S. troops should be thoroughly informed of and founded in.  Every officer and non-com gave his undivided help, knowledge and time; to the company, the men patiently and diligently applied themselves, and gave their possible best.

  Men with exceptional ability began to stand out.  Some in subjects were better than others, but all finally emerged from this 13 weeks of concentrated study a better than average company.

   Our ordnance work was described, explained and illustrated to the men by the depot personnel.  Later we entered the depot and went to work in earnest.  Here, men who hadn’t absorbed the military end soon found themselves, and their prowess and intelligent acquaintance with automotive work came to the fore.  All in all we were a well-balanced operative depot company, ready for anything that might happen along.

  The last weeks at Fort Knox were very busy ones.  Up until the last a skeleton crew worked in the depot, and the motor pool continued its operations.  On the whole, however, the company retired to its area to prepare for the trip overseas.  And there was plenty to do before it could be said that we were ready to leave.  There was inspection after inspection – of clothes and equipment   - and many forms to fill out.  All company records had to be brought up to date and be checked and re-checked.   In between all this activity a case or two of measles broke out, and we had almost daily physicals as the result.  Two or three of us were A.W.O.L. while others were content to take a three day pass as it could be sandwiched in.  The men and officers alike had G.I. haircuts, marked their clothes and equipment, signed papers, and disposed of personal property by mailing it home.  Everyone had loose ends to catch up and nobody had time to spare.  We were rushed from early in the mornings until long past the usual bedtime at night.

  Finally our activities were put on the secret list and we knew that we would be leaving soon, fulfilling Captain Fuller’s prediction that “we will not see the spring flowers bloom at Fort Knox”.  A few days before March 29th packs were made ready, duffel bags stuffed to the last inch of their capacity and on the afternoon of Wednesday, March 29th, the company boarded a troop train at the Fort Knox station.  The day was icy cold and windy and our spirits were high and mingled, as it were, with a strong feeling of anticipation, excitement and confusion.  Our first adventure into the unknown and a greener crew than ours had never boarded a troop train.  What the future held, no one of us knew.  The mystery of it all was both exciting and provoking.

Camp Kilmer, New Jersey

  About the time the train pulled into Philadelphia, “Pop” Green decided to relieve the tension by coming down with a case of measles.  The rest of the company felt that somehow this was a conspiracy between “Pop” and “Anopholes” (at Knox) to get Headquarters platoon quarantined for two or three weeks to come, since the car “Pop” was on was filled with members of that particular platoon.  In that, the immediate result was that Headquarters was strictly quarantined during the entire stay at Kilmer, with the exception of the last two days, thereby missing an opportunity to take in the bright lights of New York every night as the others did, seemed to confirm our suspicions.

    The arrival at Camp Kilmer, New Jersey, a P.O.E., just south of New York City and located at New Brunswick, was under cover of darkness.  It was good to step out on the ground again and breathe in the fresh air as we disembarked from the train and fell into platoons.  Orders were shouted that the company face a certain direction and the march to the barracks began.  Within a few minutes we came before a number of shadowy buildings and halted.  Each of the three platoons was assigned a barrack and we turned in for the night.  The next day and the ten days following we marched from one end of the port to the other; to gas mask drills, physical examinations, the issuing of equipment, life boat drills, to theaters to see films on how to abandon ship, and so on.  During the day when we had no assignment on our schedule ball games were organized and we got in extra hours of bayonet practice and close order drill.  After five o’clock in the evenings all but members of Headquarters Platoon were given passes to New York.  The big town extended a welcome hand to soldiers, and some high old times were had by our men.  When the quarantine was finally lifted from Headquarters Platoon the men drew a twenty-four hour pass to the city.  So everyone had his chance to visit the world’s largest and most exciting metropolis and taste of its pleasures.  The unanimous decision of the men of this company was that it is true what they say about old Broadway, and that New York, in general, is quite a place.

  At 8 a.m. the morning of April    9th the company was alerted.  Incidentally, April 9th, 1944, was Easter Day the world over, but those of us in the 841st failed to observe it in the usual manner.  By nine o’clock we were at the medics and taking our final physical.  The remainder of the day was spent in cramming our duffel bags even fuller than they already were with everything we could buy at the PX that anyone had the slightest idea he’d need --   to hang with the 5-lb limit - we’d see what we could get away with anyhow!  As it was not known how long the company would be in the present location, following the alert, that night the captain ordered every man to take a shower and to carry out the order every night as long as we were at Kilmer.  After leaving Kilmer baths would be scarce.  But this was only a part of the final preparations; there was still too much beer at the PX for a rounder’s peace of mind, and the prospect of deserting civilization for the next several weeks didn't win any converts to the cause of sobriety.  If the PX officials were worried for fear too big a beer stock was piling up on their hands the last two nights of the 841st at Kilmer must have eased their minds.  Yes, indeed, those last two evenings in the good old U.S. were painless ones.

H.M.S. Mataroa

    Early the morning of Tuesday, April 11th, we were transported to a Staten Island pier in six-by's where we boarded a barge which carried us to the Manhattan pier where waited "H.M.S. Mataroa". (See this link about her history and service:  Mataroa. )    By mid-afternoon we were aboard and settled in staterooms and in the mess hall on “B” deck. It was surprising that we should be going on a British boat to our destination which we knew now was England. We watched with interest the arrival of a number of civilians, and were amused by the accent of the British crew. A thorough investigation of the ship was soon in progress by all, from bow to stern. This was a new experience and there was a lot to see. The evening chow was good as we hadn't eaten since breakfast; but it is doubtful if another meal was to receive favorable comment until we reached Devizes, England.

ABOARD THE MATAROA

  The first night aboard ship was a restless one.  The following morning the chief topic of conversation at breakfast was how everyone had slept lightly, wakening every so often expecting to feel the boat in motion, moving out to sea.  The rumor had been that would leave at midnight.  Thus, when we appeared on deck in broad daylight and saw that the boat was still at anchor, speculation was rifle as to when the jump-off would be.  Guesses did not have long to materialize, however, for soon after eating we were hustled below deck as the “Mataroa” glided out from the harbor.  Within the hour we were permitted back on top deck to take in the new position.  Having already felt the old boat groan as she moved along while we were below and could see nothing was exciting enough, but spirits rose to a new height as we got our first glimpse of the endless  ocean ahead and the land left behind.  The prospect of an ocean voyage and the sight of a new continent made up in some measure for the deep regret on leaving the States, and home, for an indefinite and perhaps very long time.  With the Statue of Liberty in the distance and the tall buildings of New York receding into the horizon the young and lusty 841st was on its way.

  The sixteen days aboard the ”Mataroa” leave a very vivid impression in the minds of most of us.  And, while the voyage was accomplished in unusually calm weather and luck stayed with us all the way, by the end of the trip we had many grievances stored against fate, in general, and, in particular, “His Majesty’s Ship, Mataroa”.  No one, of course, could blame anything but his own constitution when he became seasick and suffered untold agonies as Baker did nor accuse any source other than fate for his coming down with the measles, as did Graham, (although there was a tendency to place the blame on certain medics who failed to discover the evidence sooner).  And naturally, as the result of another outbreak of measles, segregation was again necessary and extra guard duty and K.P. were imposed on only a few individuals.  In a circumstance such as this the only possible scapegoat was fate, which can no more be excused than explained.  It was “just one of those things”, and we accepted it with as good a humor as could be mustered at the time.  Getting down to the objections to the “Mataroa” itself, however, they were many and legitimate, but can best be summed up in our one, main gripe – the unforgivably bad food.  The sea air gave everyone who wasn't seasick a healthy appetite, and we tried meal after meal to eat the dismal stuff placed before us.  Even those of us usually indifferent to the quality of food, as long as there is an abundance of it, were revolted and sickened by the chow served on the “Mataroa”.  Once you had seen inside the filthy galley and taken a deep breath just one time, and had had a field jacket put out of action by a rank, exploding sausage, you were ready to wave the white flag.  The only honorable conclusion was that the food was fit only to be thrown overboard.  The fact that most of it was disposed of in this manner casts no reflection on the poor fish who, my favorite mermaid tells me, didn't eat it either.

  Activities aboard the boat were very limited, and, taking everything into consideration, it was just as well.  As the schedule ran there was only one regular daily feature at which all men were required to be present.  That was the boat drills we had every morning at ten-thirty.  In answer to a long, steady ringing of the alarm all hands rushed on deck and took their places in front of a life boat.  When all men were accounted for – wearing life jackets, as at all times – instructions would be given on how to get into the life boats should the occasion to use them arise.  Then, while we were still on deck, the opportunity to give a few calisthenics being irresistible (despite the swaying of the boat which sometimes made mere standing difficult), we would plunge into 15 minutes of exercises.  The workout was usually a vigorous one chiefly because of the effort exerted to keep from being washed overboard rather than from any benefit derived from the exercises themselves.

  As the days mounted up since the beginning of the trip the weather continued to improve.  From foggy days at first, later it became so warm and sunny that lying out on deck without a shirt was a popular way to pass the time.  Even with the 553rd, our fellow passengers, there was plenty of deck space for us to spread out on.  The Red Cross had presented us with a good supply of books, so there was entertainment by reading.  In the day room you could play a number of games. And several tables of bridge were always in progress.  The latter game seemed to be the favorite of the majority of the company.  Not that poker was neglected - or crap-games!  - recreation of this sort, too, could be found any time almost everywhere a crowd gathered; from the rising of the sun until long past the going down of the same.  On  Sundays, Henry Cunningham led Protestant services in the Day Room.  We found that Henry was capable of more common sense and clear thinking on the subject of religion than many Chaplains, and his leadership at the services was appreciated.

  Any time on deck when you would look out and see the other ships in our convoy – numbering some 90 ships altogether, it was said – it seemed as though we were on a lake after all, instead of the Atlantic Ocean.  In all directions, and as far as the eye could see, there were ships of every description, and, on either side of our boat, some very close by.  The fast little corvettes gliding in and out and past the larger boats were continually on patrol.  Once, one of them got the signal that an enemy sub was in our waters, so one after the other the depth charges were sent to find the prey.  Fortunately, no more was heard of a submarine, but it gave you a comfortable feeling knowing that the corvettes were on the job in case one did show up.  Swift and sure a corvette, one afternoon, pulled up alongside our boat and gave quite an account of itself over its microphone.  We stood against the railing of the “Mataroa” and listened to the voices come over the speaker while watching the men on the corvette as they stood on their deck looking at us.  The curiosity was mutual.

Devices, England

  The first sight of land came at daybreak on the morning of Wednesday, April 26th.  It was a tiny island off the coast of Scotland, mountainous, but with a lowland receding toward the beach.  Just a little land, nor would the sight of it have normally caused any moment; but to us this ordinary piece of earth was the first dry land in over two weeks and, as such, one of the world’s most beautiful places.  During the day, as we passed through the Irish Channel, both North Ireland and the banks of Scotland were clearly visible.  The Isle of Man came and went and we began to hug close to the coast of Wales.  By late afternoon we were in the Bristol Channel, and making our way slowly toward the harbor of the city.  Hours passed during which we napped in the day room and on deck.  Finally, when the tide was right, the “Mataroa” with patient deliberation eased into the narrows of the harbor.  The company woke and every man with his equipment stood on the decks watching the land enclose us on all sides.  Gradually the boat came to complete stop, the gang plank was lowered, and we descended to put our feet for the first time on English soil.  A train was waiting at the docks to take us to our destination, so we filled each of the quaint compartments and arranged ourselves and equipment for the final lap of the journey.  We had no more than entered the coach when the Red Cross girls appeared with what was probably the most welcomed doughnuts and coffee we've ever eaten.  Car by car hungrily accepted as much as the girls would let us have, then settled down for a ride as the train pulled out into the darkness.

  On through the early morning hours the train rumbled over  the English countryside, gradually finding  itself more and more in the faint light of dawn; then suddenly, the sunlight of a clear Spring day blinded us through the windows.  The train slowed and came to full stop.  It was 7:30.  Someone appeared at the door of the compartment announcing, “O.K., pick it up.  We’re here!”  A mad scramble ensued during which gas masks, packs, rifles were seized indiscriminately.  As long as every man had one of everything it mattered but little, this morning, if it belonged to someone else.  Thus the 841st arrived at the station at Devizes, Wiltshire, England, April 27th, 1944.

   Nothing less than chow call could possibly have routed the company to more spontaneous action than the call to unload at our first stop in England did now.  Milling about in groups on the station platform, talking, looking, interested in all that was going on we were glad for the opportunity   to stretch our legs.  In due army time we climbed into six by sixes and drove away from the station. In a few minutes time we had ascended a rather long and steep hill and were passing through the streets of a small town with such signs as “Ironmonger” (British for Hardware Store), “Chemist, (for druggist), and many cafes and pubs with such names as “The Red Lion”,  “Fox and Crow”, and “The Jolly Roger”.   Through the narrow streets the trucks proceeded beyond the edge of town until we came to a side road where we turned in.  A G.I. standing at the gate marked the beginning of an army camp, our immediate destination.  Winding in and out several well laid street on either side of which were various one story brick and wooden structures the trucks stopped before one,  the latter which, in this case, was plainly a bunkhouse. We had reached our first area in England; our first home away from home, if only for a night or two.   It was our privilege to approve or disapprove, according to the American custom, and we wasted no time in getting out of the six-by's to investigate our prospects.

  No one, even yet, has forgotten how hungry we were the morning of our arrival in Devizes.  It had been since noon the previous day that we’d had anything like a full meal, and by the middle of this morning there wasn't one who wouldn't have sworn he’d eat a horse if given the chance.  Hail to the Joe who came down to earth long enough, midst the confusion of arrival, to discover the mess hall.  Someone gave a Rebel yell, and before the unsuspecting mess sergeant could give with his favorite four letter word, he was surrounded by some 180 G.I.’s, all clamoring for breakfast.  At this point, Captain Joseph Gardiner, popular mess officer of the dining hall, took over saying that he was glad to see us, but somewhat surprised.  Suspecting that we would be coming over in a tub like the “Mataroa”, our arrival hadn't been expected for two more days.  Appearing as we did, therefore, on Thursday instead of Saturday, Captain Gardiner, with a gleam in his eye, called our attention to the fact that we had violated one of the army’s most cherished traditions... by arriving in Devizes, not only on time, but two days ahead of schedule.  But just to show that there were no hard feelings, within half an hour we sat down to a scrumptious breakfast of ham and eggs, of which everyone had at least three portions.

   By afternoon of that first day in England the company was temporarily settled in scattered barracks.  Lying out on the grass, around the bunkhouses after dinner in the warm April sun, man by man studied his surroundings, forming his first opinions of “this Island, this England”.  The immediate scene was relatively impressive; a lot of little buildings set in the midst of cabbage patches, corn fields, and painted over with the earth green, brown and yellow colors of natural camouflage.  This was the first step in the practical defense against an enemy who didn't believe in dry runs.  Such as this we had studied about, had seen replicas exhibited in basic training – until today we had merely seen pictures and listened to talks by men whose knowledge came, necessarily, from books; today, we were a part of a genuine, serious fortress.  The experience of passive defense against air attacks was ours.  While the F-47’s and Spitfires droned and zoomed overhead in furious pursuit of an imaginary enemy, soon to materialize into the real thing, we knew we were watching the final rehearsals of the world’s greatest play – the curtain of which was about to rise.  The thought entered our minds, too, that we ourselves would attend the performance, not as spectators but as actors.  What we did not realize, however, was the importance of the part we were to play, nor how soon.

  Throughout the afternoon one group and then another would discover the shower house – an unexpected luxury, and dash off to feel the hot, steaming water wash them of all traces of the boat trip.  Some had already filled mattress covers with straw and were indulging in a nap.  Others wandered aimlessly about the area, taking in what little English landscape there was enclosed within the wire fence.  These were casual experiences, in retrospect, but to us that first day in England even the most ordinary sight attracted our attention.  April in England had brought the richest, greenest hillsides anywhere.  From time to time a homesick voice would declare it “not bad”, but most of the men of 841 looked at England that day and remembered that it was also spring at home.

WHAT WE DID AT DEVIZES

   The days that were to follow at Devizes - almost three months of them - were hard-working days; days with but little diversion except in the long, daylight evenings, after hours.  For the first few days, the only time the company wasn't put to it from the day we landed in England and until we left, no assignment came through and we took life easy.  Laundry was washed, odd jobs done in the area; we cut the grass, for instance, policed the shower house, furnished K.P.'s for the mess hall, and orderlies for the latrines.  Shortly, the captain called the company together and read the order; the first contingent to start to work would report to Depot 0634 for skid loading and stock record . Before another sun had set orders came through establishing the 841st as Ordnance Field Depot #2; then work began for all, and in earnest.

   Operations of the new depot centered, in the beginning, from two small rooms adjoining the orderly room.  Here a crew gathered to make up the basic load was drawn up, typed and submitted.  While waiting for the material to begin coming in, the Depot Headquarters was set up on the vacant lot at the right side of the center gate.  Across thestreet, in another lot, construction of the depot proper was started simultaneously with the setting up of Depot Headquarters.  Again ingenuity played a great part for, needless to say, while we were expected to establish a depot,  no one was so practical as to suggest a legal way to get the  necessary where-with-all; therefore we picked up tarps, lumber, nails and accessories where we could find them, and our carpenters went to work.  Section by section O.F.D. #2 came from the assembly line - the neatest job in the U.K.   In the meanwhile, business was coming in rapid rate.  We had no parts but we did have plenty of requisitions.  Back orders by the score were rushed to the base depot. Everybody was busy.  And then one day it happened; the first stock arrived!  The most useless items imaginable, but p-a-r-t-s!  Motorcycle parts - two tires, two engines, and a few handle bar grips. Yes, it was encouraging.

   In rapid fire now the depot set to work.  Captain Seigley of the Southern Base Section made himself known, very well known, by his frequent appearance with several thousand requisitions each visit.  The 841st serviced 3rd Army and S.O.S. troops, in abundance.  Among the outstanding units we serviced were the 5th, 6th, 7th ArmoredDivisions, the 2nd French Armored Division, the 28th Infantry Division, the 2nd Cavalry Group, and the 20th Corps; plus all the small units to be in the buildup and reinforcement after D-Day then located in South Central England. The volume of our business was nothing short of terrific; at its peak  (to quote the record) O.F.D. #2 "registered and processed over 3,000 requisitions".   This meant long hours for the depot personnel . Goldbricking was at an absolute minimum; it was as though every man in the company realized that our success as a unit depended upon his individual effort.

   Depot Headquarters was a seething center of visiting officers with sad stories.  Everybody was "hurting", requisitions received  had gone through many channels before reaching O.F.D. #2.  Praise the Lord and pass the requisition!  Apparently, we were the last cog in a very big wheel. By the time O.F.D. #2 usually registered a requisition, so much time had been lost since the requisition was made up, that the situation was often little short of critical.  So our trucks hit the road to G25, G50, 0640 and brought back the goods.  Captain Fuller had gone out to the other depots with an eye for business. It was as necessary to have good relations with other depots as it wasO.F.D. #2 to have a reputation among its using units for good service. The one depended upon the other. And, in record time, we were functioning smoothly and well.

  Perhaps the convenience of our area, the comparative comfort of our quarters had much to do with the efficiency of our service as a military unit. Previously, our area had been a base for British Marines and, while it was not exactly along conventional military lines, it was a very good area for the operations of a small unit.

    There were excellent brick mess halls, with all the modern  conveniences.  Likewise, brick latrines, wash rooms, and a large shower house. One-story bunkhouses accommodating 36 men were scattered in a camouflage pattern. Although at first the company was spread out, one platoon here, another there, gradually we came together into a compact area, occupying six houses.  The only walking we had to do was to the orderly room, the mail room, and the supply room which was situated in a long, low brick building at the far end of the area, next to the officer’s quarters.  After the first pay day a majority of the company had bicycles and it was something less than work to cover the distance from the depot to Jim Rowe’s hideout for mail.

    Bicycles!  The long, the short and the tall.  The good bikes and the rattletraps, we bought them all.  When pay day came around there was a rush for the available bicycles – the “available” ones being those owned by fellows in other companies, also in the area . These fellows knew how badly we wanted bikes, how much money we had coming to us, and ranged their prices accordingly.  There was so much bickering and horse trading, but in the end those who bought a bike paid the price.  Limey bikes.  We looked at them dubiously – the small tires, the light-weight, fragile-looking frames.  Some stuff.  Somebody rode one of the things, decided that it rode pretty easily, almost effortlessly, and he was sold.  Of course, the American bike with the balloon tires, strong, thick frame couldn't be beat, but after all this was not America.  And so we bought our first bicycles and hit the trail.

   A day or two after our arrival at Devizes the company was called together for a get-acquainted meeting with the commandant of the post, Major Frederick V.H. Smith.  A large, impressive-looking man of some fifty years, Major Smith’s silver-rimmed glasses set off a head of grey hair, thinning at the temples.  An erect military posture and a trim uniform almost hid a developing paunch.  With an easy manner and a ready smile the commandant walked out upon the stage of the auditorium, put his audience, which was standing at attention, at ease, and plunged into a lengthy, cordial greeting.  Speaking with a pronounced Southern accent Major Smith dispelled any doubts as to what part of the country he was from when he began his speech by asking if there was present any soldier from North Carolina who was not at least a Tech Sergeant.  This pleasantry produced quite a laugh, especially when S/Sgt Caffey stood up to indicate that he was from North Carolina and wasn’t a Tech Sergeant.  Caffey insists that this incident had nothing to do with him making Tech shortly afterward.

  One glow of good fellowship followed another as the Major plunged into the details of life in the E.T.O.  Aside from the relatively few basic rules of the post, the major would have us know that the reason we were in the United Kingdom was to work, that there was plenty for us to do, and that if we attended to our business he would attend to his, and all would be well.  A good, reasonable set-up we concluded – practical, above all else, and strictly free from red tape.  Just what was necessary to the successful performance of our ordnance mission.  Little did we know that in the weeks to come we would succeed in spite of more SNAFU than even the oldest army man among us had encountered before -  tape strewn in our path by the very man now arguing so vigorously against it.  But this bright spring morning as we listened to the Major modestly relate how he had uncomplainingly fought the Battle of Britain for nearly three years, we were touched; and when he reminded us that by our coming perhaps a few old soldiers (such as himself) might be allowed to return to their loved ones, we were almost glad that we had had the privilege of leaving home.

  Yes, the old goat put it on thick.  We were completely taken in.  As the meeting concluded and the company broke up into groups, there was high optimism in the conversation; the 841st was ready to proclaim Major Frederick V.H. Smith a champion of the common soldier – himself a genuine, untarnished example of how cooperative the army can be.  In our innocence we did not recognize a stinker when we saw one.  But in the weeks that followed we learned as much about the foibles of human nature as we did the operation of a field depot.

   As we streamed into the town of Devizes in the late afternoons of those first weeks in England, most common and universal discoveries were the British pubs and bitters, and the fish and chip places. Pushing one’s way up to the bar in a crowded pub for a glass of dark brown liquid optimistically referred to by the British as beer (or bitters) is worth the effort to an American only in that it partially satisfies a longing for something long ago and far away; a bottle, say, of chilled, refreshing, tasty Budweiser Beer.  At the fish and chip establishments, small, one-room, café-like places,  one falls in at the end of a long queue and is practically overcome by the savory odor of French Fries, before he can reach the inside.  On finally attaining the counter usually you’re told that there’s no fish tonight; but then you begin to eat the chips and soon forget all about the fish you didn't get.  The chips were all right.

  The other attractions of Devizes included a very active Red Cross where you can have snacks and light meals, play games, write letters, go on Sunday afternoon tours; a small Y.M.C.A. serving sandwiches and coffee; two movies in town (not including the unforgettable Garrison which is in a class by itself); and three historic old churches dating back to the early centuries.  St. Mary’s, St. James, by the lake with the swans on the way to town, and St. John’s, by the castle. Anglican churches (Church of England), each was complete with cemetery and full set of chimes.  The smallest of the three, St. James, dated back to the 13th century and was the most beautiful on the inside, of the three churches.  In its tower were cannon holes made by Oliver Cromwell’s guns when he marched through southern England.  St. Mary’s Church rose upon a slight hill, adjoining the Regal Theatre.  Its chief interest to G.I.’s lay in the 300 year old cat the caretaker took great pleasure in exhibiting to every visitor.  A perfect skeleton, the cat had been dug up from under the floor of the church the last time repairs had been made and that, according to church records, was three hundred years ago.  The church itself was the oldest of the three, the sanctuary having been built in the 11th century, before the time of William the conqueror; the main body of the church was completed in the 15th century.  The last of the churches, St. John’s, was known as the Castle Church. Near the castle of the borough of Devizes, St. John’s Church was originally built for the use of the family and household of the castle.  (At the time of our arrival in Devizes, the castle was being used to house Italian prisoners of war).  The church of St. John, while the most ornate of the churches, still remains a relatively simple house of worship – especially when later compared with some of those in France.

  While speaking of the old churches in Devizes most of us will also recall the worthy G.I. church on the post.  In the same building with the PX, the post chaplain held services every Sunday morning – an interdenominational service arranged to appeal to members of all the Protestant faiths.  The chaplain was a sincere man and an interesting speaker; the men were unanimous in their approval of him and his service.  Catholic boys had the opportunity to attend Mass with the 4th Armored Division just across the way.  Jewish men also attended services in the 4th Armored area.  Usually, the company was free to attend these services on Sunday mornings, as work for most units on that day, did not begin until one o’clock.

  Of all the jobs done by the 841st in Devizes, none was more important than that done by the skid loading crew at 0634.  These men, sixty-six of them, under Wilczewski, reported at eight every morning and worked on through until eleven o’clock, many nights.  When the rest of the company was wandering around Devizes, Will and his crew were doing a job no one envied and they did it well.

  Does anyone need to be reminded of our first air raid in Devizes?  Well, certainly Camisa, Schilleci and Henderson, for example, remember it, for one reason or another, and the rest of us should enjoy hearing the story again.  As you know, we hadn't been in Devizes very long when one night, unsuspecting of any mischief afoot, the company soundly asleep, was rudely awakened by an excited, trembling voice which made its way from barrack to barrack.  “My God, hurry up and get out of here!  Make for the trenches, men!  They’re bombing us on all sides!   Half your buddies are already lying dead!”   The company came suddenly to life, as though fired by an electric shock.  Men rolled from their beds and onto the floor, feeling around for something to hastily put on before going out into the cool night, wondering, the while, if the wrath of the Luftwaffe was finally upon us.   “Cut out that blanket-blank light, you so-and-so!  Do you want us all bombed to hell and back?”  “For Christ’s sake get Drakes out over there”, sounded another voice, prodding the last few sleepers to action.   “My achin’ back!  Who’s got my goddamn shoes? – Camisa.  “Boy, if you don’t hurry up and get outta here, you ain't gonna have to worry ‘bout no shoes!  Well, I’ll be a son-of-a-hmmmmmm!  These ain't my shoes I got on. Hey Mike!”  - Schilleci.

   In the wake of the excitement caused in the first building by his awful announcement, the C.Q. hastened to the next, jarring sleepers into sudden consciousness each time he repeated his message. By the time he had reached the last building men were pouring from those at the beginning of the circle, the company in various stages of undress, groping its way towards the trenches.  With gas mask, steel helmet, rifle belt and canteen we were equipped for a siege, our minds ready to accept the horrors of war, so long spared us. The trenches were crowded, and as the men became accustomed to the darkness and some began to recognize the first layer of evacuees in his lap, or who belonged to the bare foot in his face (for not everyone found his shoes), and so on, we listened for the sound of planes overhead, expecting to hear the screams of bombs at any moment.

   As the first waves of alarm passed and men braced themselves to view the havoc of destruction and dead bodies supposedly hemming them in on all sides, several privates in the First Supply Platoon, report their non-com, expressed surprise at the apparent normalcy of the scene; others, it is said, on finding everything completely serene, quiet and unruffled, called someone a dope. When the all-clear siren sounded and we filed, shivering, back into the barracks at least three people, none of whom could very easily have agreed between themselves beforehand, swore they had seen German planes. It was confusing, however, as the number of attackers was variously reported from one lone aircraft to a squadron of fighter-bombers which passed directly overhead.  "I know, because at that particular moment the moon came from behind a cloud and I could see them distinctly".  As no one else either noticed a moon that night or heard a squadron of enemy aircraft the word of this good man is naturally indisputable, and his account of the attack goes down on the record. Undoubtedly then, this night the 841st had very cleverly deceived the Luftwaffe which passed overhead oblivious of our presence. As to the wholesale destruction of the company, as reported by the Charge of Quarters, not a single man reported himself fatally injured, and the following morning there was a full attendance at roll call.

     On June 20th, following 12th Corps orders, Lt Robertson and six enlisted men left Devizes to join the Second French Armored Division at Market Weighton, Yorkshire.  Attached to the Magazin Divisionaire, or “store” of the French division, it was our assignment to act as liaison between the Division and American depots from which the division drew its parts in preparation to its return to France.  Aside from the job of teaching the French how to requisition correctly, and sending one of our men with each convoy to the depots a great deal of effort was spent, not too successfully, trying to convince the French that every man in the division definitely would not need a peep after he got to France, and that we could not okay such requisitions as the one which called for a 2nd Echelon Set (Company Maintenance Set) for each of their six-by's. Later, when we got down to the business of making stock record cards eleven more men from the company joined the party at Market Weighton.  After work hours, amidst the many diversions of this comely little town l'amour, it is said, hit an all-time high. At least it was agreed by all concerned that M.W. was an oasis in the desert of England. The spell was broken only when on July 21st all but four of our men returned to 841. The following week when the 2nd French Armored Division sailed for France, Lt Robertson, with Durand, Fox, Gutterman and Sirmans left with it.  They remained on detached service with the division until August 19th when they rejoined the company at Alencon.

Several weeks later Lt Robertson received the following letter of commendation by the Commanding General of the 2nd French  Armored Division, General Jacques LeClerc, written to General Patton and forwarded through channels:

General LeClerc, Commanding the 2nd French Armored Division

24th September, 1944

to

General Patton,  Commanding the 3rd U.S. Army

I have the honor to call to your attention the Valuable services rendered the 2nd French Armored Division by the 1st Lt Victor V. Robertson of the 314TH Ordnance Battalion.

Lieutenant Robertson was attached to the Supply Company of the 2nd French Armored Division in England at Market Weighton and contributed greatly to the establishment of requisitions subsequent to the Show Down Inspections.  Later, at Cheltenham and in France, thanks to his daily liaison missions, we obtained the requisitioned material in the shortest possible time.

(Stamped)

The Commanding General,

2nd French Armored Division

    Some evenings when no one worked the 841st went on convoy to dances in CaIne and later, to Bath.  Two nights a week trucks went  to CaIne, leaving at 7:00 and returning at 11:00.  When we moved into tents and set up our own dance pavillion during the remainder of our stay in Devizes we played host to the local girls who came as much for the ice cream we served as for the dance.

    Toward the middle of May an outfit of engineers appeared in our midst and began stringing up a fence around our area. It was then that we discovered that our barracks were soon to be used by German prisoners, our area converted into a P.W.E. Nor did we cheerfully contemplate relinquishing our comfortable Quarters to the Boche.  By the last Sunday in May, as our entire area was enclosed with the exception of one gate, it was time for us to move. And so we departed, bed, pack and mess gear, and set up a bivouac in an open field on the far side of the barn-like structures of Depot 0634.  Pyramidal tents were pitched with eight men sleeping in a tent. For the time being we retained the privilege of eating our old mess hall, under the stipulation that the company march to and from each meal as a unit, accompanied by  an officer to report the number of men to the guard at the gate as we entered.

   As though a foreboding that something great was about to happen the 841st Ordnance Depot Company, by a quirk of fate no more mysterious than healthy epidemic of the G.l.'s, was up practically all night the eve of D-Day, curiously scanning the sky to and from sudden trips to the latrine. (Continuously through the night, report the latrine-runners, the sky was overcast with massive formations of aircraft flying in the direction of France. The deafening roar of planes from dusk well into the dawn indicated that this was more than an ordinary raid on enemy territory.  The next morning no one admitted surprise when news came over the radio that the invasion was on.

   Immediately after D-Day prisoners began to arrive in great numbers to fill the barracks we had until so recently occupied. When we came to meals now there were always Germans within the enclosed sections of barbed wire . We watched silently as they went through their paces in the open lot which had formerly been used by us for a motor pool, but was now the induction center for incoming prisoners.  It seemed incredible that these sad sacks were responsible for our being in Europe.

    Of such was Devizes and of such was England. The lighthearted, "Merrie England" of story and fable had vanished from the earth, it seemed; many, in their first disillusion doubted but that England’s reputation for gaiety was but the figment of a press agent’s imagination; and now that even the agent himself was off to war, his employer, England, that is- had to struggle along as best she could, unable, at last, to hide the awful truth. Needless to say, before leaving England the great majority of us began to understand, if not appreciate, the strain under which the little island had labored for half a decade. However much the average G.I. belittled the Limeys for their queerness and standoffishness, as one sympathetic man in the company expressed it, and this seems to be the general attitude: "If America had been as thoroughly and systematically bombed as England and our people found their homes destroyed in the middle of the night by an uninvited guest no doubt, we, too, would loose some of our good nature".  While this does not excuse the British from what the Americans consider the basic amenities of courtesy it does, perhaps explain why we were unable to understand the naturally conservative nature of the British   - turned even more "queer”' by events of the past several years.  In the long run we were able to admit that while the British of this time were not at their best, neither was a vast number of Americans who made jackasses of themselves at every opportunity. The British were occupied with the defense of their homes and how best they could make out on the scanty rations allowed them, and how they could keep their daughters from taking a nose dive every time one of them had a date with a G.I.

   Unfortunately, the majority of the company spent its entire three months and three days in England in Wiltshire, described by a Yorkshireman (in the North) as a very bad section of the country.   The people in Wilts are real characters, and most unfriendly ones at that.  That's the way the boys who spent time up in York report the folks there feel about them and, apparently, some 99% of the 841st is quite willing to share this opinion.   (The dissenting one percent comprises Tom Pianelli. His reason for liking Wiltshire is more or less limited to Calne and involves an emotion that could easily have paralyzed anyone of us. Besides, after seeing Tom's "reason” for liking WiItshire, or Calne, who wouldn't be willing to go all out for dear old England if only he has a "reason like that?)

   A number of the boys and Lt Robertson, when they were up in York, found that not all the British were anti-social, after all. Their experiences up that way, as they tell them, at least, sound just a bit exaggerated to the average ear; as a member of the party who was at Market Weighton, however, your author advises to believe most of the stories you hear of the place. As already hinted, the morning, noon and night life of Market Weighton will supply subjects of conversation for bull session whenever members of the Nunners Club meet in the years to come.

Warminster

   "Out of the frying-pan into the fire" is an apt phrase to describe our departure of Devizes and stay in Warminster. We were stunned, to say the least, when Captain Fuller called us together on the evening of June 30th and read a list of the men who were to leave the next morning for Warminster, a town some twenty miles from Devizes which has the same climate and traditions as Devizes, except they are worse.

    Rumors were flying fast and furious in the meantime. What did this mean? The main thought behind the rumors, if rumors are a product of thinking, was "had the 841st become Service of Supply or were we the advance detail for the staging area?" Time would tell! But, to most of us, Devizes held no tender spot in our hearts; and to the soldiers of fortune, Warminster was a new place to "conquer". (?).

       Early the next morning, under the motherly care of Lt Reynolds and Lt Lanham, we left Devizes in a beautiful downpour of English rain that we were beginning to accept as inevitable. It was a good convoy and if any trucks were permanently lost, Sgt Hickman's records haven't shown it yet.

   De-trucking from the short convoy, we lined up in the rain to await our assignment to our new homes. How fortunate we were to be assigned to the "infamous" Nissen Huts for the first time. At least we considered ourselves fortunate when we found (we) had chased our predecessors to a bivouac in our back yard. But they didn't bother us for they only came out of the mud on clear days and who ever heard of a pretty day at Warminster.

    The Nissen Huts turned out to be real "homey". Only on the "Limey” boat had we been drawn so close together. After much discussion, we decided to let the cockroaches remain with us for they had been there so long and we hoped to stay for a short while. They turned out to be good bed-fellows in cool, damp weather.

   Col. Smoak, Commanding Officer of the post, had gone to much trouble to prepare for our coming and he sent each of us detailed memorandum on how to arrange our equipment.  He was nice enough to visit us frequently and see if his suggestion were helpful.

     0-642 was a Base Ordnance Depot for Light and Medium Tanks and had numerous schools and shops to accelerate the good work that was done there. (It was for the company's benefit that some of our men attended the Small Arms School and later found themselves working in the Small Arms Van). In the few weeks we were to remain here, we could learn to appreciate the big job that went on and became a part of it.

    What part did we play? Lt Lanham was our acting Commanding Officer and Lt Reynolds had charge of the Depot Personnel. They turned our MOS numbers in and shortly we were under the watchful eye of "Fearless Freddie”.  (Cruel fate has robbed "Fearless" of his christian name but he will be remembered by us for his devotion to duty).   We were separated in shifts, for 0-642 worked on a twenty-four hour schedule. (When we use separate, it is sufficient, for we seldom saw other shifts except marching in a “military" manner from work with our mess gears, gas masks, raincoats, and weak back bones).

     The 841st personnel was infiltrated with other companies into the big job of depot work. We found ourselves in stock records, shipping, receiving, carpentry, waterproofing, and truck driving. In our ten minute breaks we would catch up on the latest chapter of the most publicized Brown-Nose we had ever encountered, "T/4 Adams”.

    One of the most interesting phases of our work was filling "Red Ball" shipments.  By this time, "D-Day" was history and fighting on the continent was going rough. When a Red Ball shipment came in, that meant other duties were dropped and this shipment given priority. Here is where most of us got the greatest satisfaction from the long, tedious hours we spent with "Fearless" - to have our own "comrades" process a Red Ball requisition through the office, our own men fill the order, place it in waterproofed boxes, seal, stencil the destination, load on trucks, and our drivers deliver to an airbase for shipment to Normandy.

     Another interesting feature of 0-642 was the consolidated mess halls on the post. The food may not have been the best but some of our men ate more there than at anytime in the army. Perhaps it was a combination of hard work and the military marching all over the post that forced some of our men to eat five meals a day.

     Social life was not left out of the planning of 0-642. The only thing wrong was they left no time for social life.  Movies were available at the Post Theater. Our allies in arms, the "Limeys", ran a NAFFI Club on the post where we could buy an ersatz beer, sweet breads, lettuce sandwiches, and a "spot of tea". Those who still had the energy after a days' work to walk into town could see that Warminster was not in flames, as Dr. Goebbels told us over the radio.   A couple of convoys were run to Bath on weekends when shifts changed to allow men to get a glimpse of the famous  cathedral and the Roman baths in between frequent visits to Pubs and "Grog" Shows.

      Perhaps Lt. Reynolds thought our training was sufficient or he would just let it ride, but again Col. Smoak looked after us. His training memorandums flooded our orderly room and we were invited to participate in a post training program in time that would not interfere with our long working hours. The most interesting program was a lecture by a captain who had been in charge of taking a group from Warminster across the Channel to France. We listened earnestly because our hopes were rising that we would be rescued from S.O.S. and Warminster by an assignment in France.

     When we adjusted ourselves to our jobs, long hours, strict post discipline, numerous chores including laundry, and were beginning to accept our fate, the rumors began to spread that the 841st was “Hot”.  We learned that priority on 841st requisitions had gone up.  Was Captain Fuller going to save us or would “Fearless Freddie’s” efforts to keep us be successful.

      All doubts from the Thomases faded when gradually the new equipment drawn by us began to assemble in the mud behind our company area.  (Equipment that later would serve and make the best army in the world).  It was a happy day when we were released from “Fearless” and the duties of 0-642 and could work as a united company again.  We’d even sacrifice the new chapters about “T/4 Adams”.

    Warminster didn't conquer us. Time wasn’t wasted. We worked hard and could see where we were helping defeat the enemies of Democracy, with our Red Ball shipments. We had learned to appreciate the efficient work done by 0-642. And in turn, our work was appreciated by "Fearless Freddie" who liked our work as was  evidenced by his attempts to keep us under those watchful eyes. Our work at Warminster added to the fine reputation that our company has gained and of which we have every right to be proud.  We left the depot happy with a new assignment and envied by our friends we had made at 0-642.

    All we needed now was a couple of Showdown Inspections and another trip to the rifle range.  Mr. Semple and Lt Reynolds came to our aid and supplied us with both. No more Service of Supply, no blouses or Garrison caps, but strictly COMBAT!

    The Warminster chapter had come to a close. No hearts were heavy.

Weymouth and the English Channel

    As the 841st formed its convoy in Warminster that morning of July 28th and mapped its route to Weymouth it was with a feeling of relief and expectation. The days in England were numbered and the company's real life was about to begin.   All that had come before -  the excitement of Camp Kilmer, the arrival at Bristol, our accomplishments at Devizes, Warminster and Market Weighton  - were but preliminaries to the main bout which was our immediate future.

    Into the marshaling area at Weymouth rolled our big vans, six-by-six's, three-quarter tons, and peeps - every vehicle laden with men and equipment. The depot was in top shape. Even as we entered Weymouth, the parts and equipment of our depot amounted to no less than 228 tons. Clearly, the moment the 841st touched the continent it expected, and was ready for, business. The fact that this depot was "prepared" was not due to luck or to the individual whim of Captain Fuller or any of the officers. The great amount and the quality of the parts chosen to make up the 841st basic load was determined by information gained from reports reaching the company in England of the operational inadequacy of many depots because they did not bring with them enough of the parts critically needed by using units. It was a simple fact that base depots in France were not yet prepared to meet many daily emergencies, and that the success of an infantry division or a tank battalion depended largely on what it could get from the depot companies in the field.  Therefore, our stock was carefully chosen as to the items which would probably be immediately needed. The 841st, for the past three months "Ordnance Field Depot #2, was now “Forward Armored Depot (841)" and prepared, above all, and its men anxious, to begin its job in France.

    The processing in Weymouth took two days. Early on the 30th, the vehicles were again lined up and then directed to the docks where all was loaded on an LST and an LCT. We waited in the harbor all that afternoon and part of the night. Sometime during the evening the boats drew in their anchors and the trip across the English Channel was begun. As though to refute its reputation as a treacherous body of water, the Channel during our crossing, was marvelously calm and smooth.

Utah Beach

    The following afternoon, July 31st, the LST anchored at Utah Beach, and men and vehicles were unloaded. The first trek over French soil by the first group of 841st men brought them to Transient Area "B" where camp was set up for the night. The LCT waited off the coast until after midnight, due to the tide, and by the time the remainder of the company reached the transient area it was three o'clock the morning of August 1st. With regards momentous happenings of that first day on the continent Jim Rowe, who had landed early in the day on the LST, lays claim to having the first haircut in France.  The honor of being Jim's barber goes to Joe Winkler. Other "first": Whatley was the first to fall into a foxhole, Sam Westbrook the first to get in a chow line, and Louie Toth, undoubtedly, the first to say "Hi, Babe!" to a mademoiselle.

    The night of August 2nd was spent at the transient area, and the next day the company crossed the peninsula to set up operations just above the town of Bricquebec.

FRANCE

    Normandy was a hot and dusty farm country, and as the August heat beat down on the manure piles -strategically located, it would seem, so as to leave no cubic inch of air untainted -we set up the depot.  Camouflage nets were extended and hung so as to deceive a curious Luftwaffe, should it appear; we dug slit trenches as a further pre caution, pitched our small pup tents and waited for our second customer. The first talley out was written up while the company was still aboard the LST and anchored off Utah Beach. On the craft next to ours was the 813th T.D. Bn and, when one of their men dropped his MI rifle overboard, Small Arms replaced it with one from their stock.

    The depot was first attached to the 320th Ordnance Battalion.

    This association was to last, however, only the few days the company stayed at Bricquebec. To the history of our depot as a whole we remember Bricquebec as the starting point for our operations in Europe, and because it was here that we looked about us and saw first hand evidence of the war of which we were a part. When the bomberspassed over this place, unlike Devizes, they had dropped their loads. Company discipline was very strict. Each man was careful to keep himself prepared for any emergency, and anyone who was for a moment lax got one hell of a reprimand. The rifle belt and canteen were worn at all times, and gas masks and weapons were a standard part of the daily uniform.  A severe blackout discipline was rigidly enforced. The French civilians in the vicinity, we could not help but notice, were apparently so glad to be rid of the Germans that they no longer took any precautions against the possibility of bombing or, for that matter, any kind of attack.  While there was no electricity in Norman homes these days the light from the small in each house shone distinctly, if not brightly, our upon the night. These people, carefree again despite the leveling of their land by war, bothered with no blackout.

   The good nature of these Frenchmen was both disarming and infectious.  We had to like them. When they came to our bivouac area bringing us eggs, milk, boxes of their famous, stinking Camembert cheese, and bottles of cider, with their little boys with aprons on and dirty-faced little girls pushing two-wheeled carts jabbering a language which never ceased to amuse us, a day, otherwise undistinguished, took on new flavor.   No, they didn't ask for anything in return for what they brought us. On the contrary, the kids often worked like this: you'd be standing somewhere, calmly oblivious of the presence of any foreign element when, suddenly, you’d feel a couple or three eggs being thrust into one of your hands; and, perhaps, if you were quick enough, catch a glimpse of a short pair of legs and a child's apron disappearing out of sight. When you did succeed in stopping one of the kids, however, and gave him a piece of gum the pleasure was not all his.  Within a few minutes the gum was as much on the outside as the inside of his mouth and both you and the kid were getting a big kick out of it. The old people and the young girls were merry, too, but many of them were dressed in black. The answer to this lay not in fashion, as these peasants no more followed the latest models than does your  Aunt Fanny, but in the shattered Norman villages, during the invasion, thousands of civilians lost their lives.

    For the rest we remember Bricquebec as the place where we had our first day in France. These little slips of paper, or "invasion currency" as it was called, resembled money about as much as wallpaper does a dollar bill.   Even so, the usual pay day crap game started at the regular time, the men apparently willing to take the government's word for it that what they were playing with was legal tender.

    On Sunday, August 6th, the fourth day since our arrival at Bricquebec, the company pulled its stakes and prepared to move down the peninsula. Over shell-shot and bombed out dusty roads we moved on through Coutances, Gauray, La Haye du Puits and Avranches - each town a monument to hell itself. The stench of unburied bodies lying in the unmerciful summer sun was often overpowering as the convoy rolled slowly, very slowly, on through a red clay dust which clung savagely to the skin and blinded the eyes. At sundown a forced bivouac was made out from the town of St Martain.  We had come 112 miles today and were now in the providence of Brittany. That night at St Martain was both a difficult and exciting experience. With the suddenness for which the Luftwaffe was famous in those days several German aircraft swept low over our area and continued to harass their target for the better part of an hour. Ack ack gung, thick in the neighborhood, scattered the formation and shot down two of the planes. This was one time we felt that our slit trenches had not been dug in vain.  In the field next to ours some boys of the 2nd French Armored stood up among the hedgerows to watch the show -their last one. A number of them were killed and others seriously wounded by shrapnel and anti -personnel bombs.

    With the dawn of the next morning the depot was on the road again.   We reached Les Messones, our destination, 46 miles from St Martain, and bivouacked there two days.  August 9th we left for Beaumont.  Although but 55 miles separated Les Messones and Beaumont we were two days in transit. The first day out our convoy halted along the side of the road to allow the 2nd French Armored Division, which had road priority, to pass. When night found us not far from where we had started from in the morning a forced bivouac was made at St Pois.  The following day we passed Laval, crossed the Mayenne River and reached Beaumont.  While at Beaumont the depot transferred from the 199th Ordnance Battalion, to which we had been attached since Bricquebec, to join the 314th.  From that August day until the present, with the exception of two weeks with the 24th Ordnance Battalion, the 314th has been our headquarters.

    Beaumont was an ideal bivouac area. The vans fitted. well under long line of thick trees; no camouflage was necessary. Our tents were staked against the hedgerows. A winding, sleepy stream running parallel with the highway was a good bathing and laundry center.   The grassy slopes, from our depot down to the stream gave the area an appearance of "country club" country.  In the little town of Beaumont we went into French cafes for the first time, and found something more to drink than the cider of Normandy.   From now on it was to be "conye-yack".  On Sundays the Catholics went to the local church.  Beaumont not only looked peaceful, it was actually that way.  We were there two days and not the crack of artillery or ack ack was heard a single time.

    The company was rudely disturbed from any temporary feeling of security it may have had as Lt Orton made the rounds of the cafes Sunday afternoon (Aug 12th) and announced that we were alerted to move.  So the depot loaded up, personal belongings (what few we had at that time) were hastily packed, and the next morning we were in convoy and marked for a place called Courcebouefs.  En route we passed through Le Mans - a landmark from World War I, and by far the largest French city we had yet come to.  Following in the wake of General Patton's dash through France orders, two days later, carried us to Alencon and to Chateay Lonray (Chateau Lonrai) .   Alencon, famous the world over for its lace, is larger than Le Mans; Chateay Lonray, a few miles out from Alencon, is an extravagant estate, in the old world style. It was to Chateay Lonray (Chateau Lonrai) that we now came to set up the depot.

    Lonray evidently had been a repair depot for the Luftwaffe. On both sides of the road were the parts of many German planes, scattered and lying about as though somebody had made a hurried exit.   The very tall dense trees on either side of the road afforded excellent natural camouflage. It had been a perfect spot for the Jerrys (until onefair day!), and was made to order location for our depot.   "Beach Head" Osborne took two Jerrys prisoner while on guard on night, we watched as two Frenchmen burned the body of a German, and the company received its first mail since leaving England while at Lonray.  These occurrences, plus the mass exploration of Chateau Lonray itself, werethe sort of events which affected our personal life during the stay at Lonray.   The depot, on the other hand, was dealing with big business. By this time daily runs to and from the base depot was on a regular schedule, and the depot was beginning to feel its strength.

    We were servicing such units as the 5th Armored Division, the 2nd French Armored Division, and the 8th Infantry Division.  As the result of our work while at Lonray the company received a commendation from Major General Wade H. Haislip (now a Lt Gen in command of the U.S. 7th Army), commanding general of the "XV Corps, to which the company was then attached.   (See section on Commendations).   In his letter, which was addressed to all companies in the 314th Battalion General Haislip said, in part: "In the period 16-18 August, 1944, inclusive, your Battalion succeeded in procuring 116 tanks and half tracks, in addition to large numbers of other type vehicles and weapons from replacement pools located at great distance to the rear and arranged for delivery of this equipment in time to be used effectively against the enemy”.  The depot has the great satisfaction in knowing, as do the other companies in the battalion, that it was the 841st that procured and issued the 116 tanks and half tracks, vehicles and weapons referred to by the general.  And here’s more evidence of what the company did in its operations at Lonray: The night before we left Beaumont the replacement pool got in its first big order of vehicles.

    36 peeps arrived on as many six-by-sixes (2.5 ton army cargo truck). Only the peeps (jeeps) had been requisitioned, but as they were loaded on the six-bys we were instructed to unload the peeps at our pool and return the big trucks.   When we moved to Lonray the following morning peeps and six-by-sixes were convoyed just as they had arrived.  The  encirclement of the Germans in the Argentan pocket was well under way and our units were desperately in need of six by sixes to haul supplies. There was no time to spare and as the only six-bys the depot had on hand were those we were instructed to return  Captain Fuller used his head and issued G.M. C. 's as long as they lasted -which was only a matter of hours.  When called to  account for the trucks the captain explained that they were already in use at the front after what was undoubtedly a record delivery.

    The company remained at Lonray a week.   During that time Lt Robertson and the men serving -with the 2nd French returned to the company as the French left for Paris, and the 841st began several weeks welcome respite from the exorbitant demands of that division.  The departure from Lonray came on Monday morning, August 21st.Travelling 85 miles, through Mames, Belleme, Nogent and Chateaudun, we came to Verdes and set up camp.

   By this time the egg gathering habit was in full swing. Not only did many of the men contract civilians to bring them eggs daily to the vans, but, after chow in the evenings the egg hunt reached epidemic proportions. The village of Verdes and all farm houses between the village and our area were as systematically combed as though the search were for gold rather than a few lowly eggs. In this agricultural section the people were anxious to trade with the Americans.  They had plenty of eggs and did not haggle over the quantity, and certainly not the quality, of the trading material. We used everything from water purification tablets and malted  milk tablets to K rations crackers. And we came back with the eggs. It must be said, nevertheless, that the canny Frenchmen quickly learned the value we placed on the individual egg, and began to gauge their demands accordingly.

   The great news of the fall of Paris came over the radio while we were at Verdes. As if to celebrate the event truck loads of us were taken to a river some ten miles down the road for a bath.  And it was at Verdes that Rex Brewer was sideswiped while driving a three-quarter ton, and broke his arm.

   By the 25th of the month new orders had come and the depot indulged in one of its most common pastimes: moving on! We made our bed rolls and chartered the course to La Chapelle.  On the way we had an opportunity to glimpse the famous old city of Orleans, the birthplace of Joan of Arc (and the city for which our New Orleans was named). A few miles from Montargis the convoy drew in at La Chapelle, and within a matter of minutes the depot, as usual, was back in business.  The 85 mile haul that day might have been a trip around the block for all the upset it made in the smooth running of the depot.

   On either side of a narrow, wooded lane the vans pushed through the low-lying scrub forest and let down their tail gates. This was wild work, if ever there was one.  Spaces had to be cleared before even a pup tent could be put down.  The sky could scarcely be perceived through the tree tops. Such a condition was natural camouflage at its best, and, whether the sun was shining or not made little difference to us here. You had to search to find it anytime.

   From La Chapelle, on August 31st, we crossed the Seine River –at that time very much in the news -and reached Le Forestiere.  81 adventurous miles clicked on the speedometer that day. The advance party, this time led by Lt Col House (then a Major) and Lt Orton on reaching Villeneauxe, was flagged by the F.F.I.  38 German Prisoners were handed over.  Later, when the company convoy reached the bivouac area 13 more Germans appeared and surrendered. Altogether the company turned in 51 prisoners to the 3rd Army P.W. cage that one day.

    The camp site at Le Forestiere was in a woods where but few camouflage nets were necessary. If these woods were thin in places it was because the Germans, so the story goes, had forced Frenchmen to build up their (the German) wood supply before winter set in. The irony of the fact that the "Boche" partied before winter did not disturb the French who had cut all the wood in the first place.  As one old Frenchman said, "Mon dieu”, it is good to know that the Americans, not the Germans, are using it".  Huge and convenient wood piles dotted the landscape. The leaves were turning brilliant shades of red and morning and just before dark felt good.

   At Le Forestiere the company was issued its first ration of cognac "with the compliments of General Patton".  And then, for the morale of drinkers and teetotalers alike, a couple of special service boys made the trip out at our place three different times to show us some of the latest movies. The first night they screened one movie. On the second visit we saw no less than four! One after the other, and into the wee hours of the morning.  On the last trip we were shown two films. For further diversion convoys went in to Sezanne -a fair-sized town not far from Le Forestiere.

    One day the supply room issued us Third Army shoulder patches, and, one day Sims had the good luck to run across "Jack", the official 841st mascot.  These were our days at Le Forestiere.

    From Le Forestiere on September 12th the company advanced 82 miles to reach Morancourt, a village just this side of Joinville. Morancourt is the place where poor "Yank" -the pup Michard bought for a pound in England-breathed her last. The three days at Morancourt were uneventful, routine days unbroken by any activities of any particular interest.

   On the 15th of the month another long move was made. From Morancourt the depot made its way 75 miles to Diarville.  "The muddy area", as Diarville is consistently referred to, was hidden  deep in the sticks.  The oozy mud was at least ankle deep in even the driest spots. As at La Capelle, the sky was almost obscured by the thickoverhead foliage and trees, and on the wet ground the scrub bushes discouraged tent pitching.  We seemed to be miles away from where the foot of man had ever trod before. No wonder morale was low at Diarville.  Fortunately, Bing Crosby and his U.S.O. troupe came along about this time, and as many of us as could get away were packed off to Charms where the groaner was putting on his show.  Bing was swell, and so was his troupe. We really enjoyed the performance.  A day or so after Bing, just to show that we hadn't been entirely forgotten, a Red Cross Clubmobile appeared in our area.  What a tonic that was!

    In the midst of all that wildness and desolation to hear swing music, talk with American girls, and eat our fill of good doughnuts and hot coffee.

    Late on the afternoon of September 26th the vans churned their way out of the mud to reach the highway, and the company proceeded 21 miles to Einvaux. In that the arrival at Einvaux came after dark it was surprising in the morning to find that the depot was set up along side a railroad track, with local station itself just across the way.  Einvaux will be remembered chiefly as the place with a high hill where we would go at night and watch the battle of Luneville.   The nights were clear and bright, and the German artillery, a few miles away, was still giving Luneville a terrific pounding. From the hill we had a good view of the action. The company had expected to continue on to Luneville from Einvaux, and we even kept an advanced party posted at a chateau in the town.  As we watched the shelling of Luneville from this hill, however, it was easy to understand why our next move took us in the opposite direction.

    The seven days at Einvaux were uneventful, despite the rousing movements a few miles further on. On Sunday the Chaplain held his service in his tent. On another day the company had its third pay day since landing in France. The depot was well set up here and business was light. Louie had the kitchen and ration storeroom both inside the station, and on the outside where we ate. Beyond the tents on this side of the tracks were the ruins of a German Quartermaster Depot, to judge by the mass of  scarred clothes, helmets and equipment which could be made out in the debris.

   On October 3rd came the move to Laneuveville, on the outskirts of Nancy.  One night in a farm implement factory and we were off the next morning for dear old Dombasle, and 41 days of good living. From the beachhead to Dombasle, coming as the 841st did -across and through the center of France - an unofficial distance of 817 miles is recorded.

    One's first impression of Dombasle is that it is just another French town, not a great deal different from a lot of others we'd seen.  Here again was the main street, or grand rue, the dark little shops with dismal (if any) window displays, and the same poorly dressed people.  A typical small French town where the inhabitants worked in the mills and factories - a town indistinguishable from thousands like it the world over.  But what made the little town of Dombasle -and particularly from the average French town- is its striking cleanliness.  If anything seemed lacking when we first saw Dombasle it was undoubtedly the absence of trash, debris, and the inevitable manure pile at every street corner.  This town, above all, was clear of the eye sores we had come to expect as a natural part of the French landscape. The Dombasle streets were swept clean and the people, though not well dressed, were proud of their clean, well-worn clothes. We soon began to know these people and to be invited into their homes, and it was a rich experience.  Surely, here among these proud and thrifty people was the best of the French nation.

   The depot moved into the salt factory, and our living quarters were on the second floor of the east end. Battalion had the same floor on tile on opposite side.  The orderly room and depot headquarters for a time shared the same office –a room on the lower floor -afterwards to be the officers' mess.  Gradually Hickman and Kacaba worked themselves out to the trailer the carpentry shop had built for them, and depot headquarters took over the German truck which had been converted into an office. The motor pool was located in the barn-like building beyond Battalion Headquarters. The vehicle pool was on a hill by the main gate. The depot arrangement here was very convenient. The vans were far apart and each one had plenty of working space.

    The weeks at Dombasle were relatively quiet ones.  The depot serviced only those units in the immediate neighborhood.  When work was caught up we were allowed time off, and usually only a skeleton crew operated in any section.  Passes were issued to Nancy beginning at ten o'clock in the morning.  Some of the men went to Luneville, by this time without question occupied by the Americans.  After the first time or two in Nancy or Luneville a majority of the company was well satisfied to stay in Dombasle whenever there was any free afternoon.  Our area was only a block from a movie which was run by G.l.' s, had three shows a day, and which changed programs every other day.  Hot showers, in the middle of town, operated by the townspeople but taken over temporarily by the soldiers, was a popular place to go any afternoon in the week.  And in Dombasle we had the added pleasure of sending our laundry out to be washed , instead of having to do it ourselves as we had for so long in the woods.  The only shortage seems to have been soap, but somehow we managed that, too.

   As our heaviest work at Dombasle consisted of guard and K.P. it was considered necessary to inaugurate a training program to take up some of the spare time and to keep the company in condition.  The schedule was neither strenuous nor did it monopolize anyone's time.  (But neither was it popular!)  Mostly, it consisted of calisthenics in the mornings and the reading and discussion, once a week, of the bulletin known as “Army Talks".

     Speaking of guard it is only fair to mention that even if the 841st had done nothing more than pull guard and K.P. while at Dombasle, guard alone, as we pulled it, would have occupied any company's time.  Every day or two we'd add another outpost to our roster, and before it was over with the company guard itinerary included, as far as can be determined: The 69th Ordnance Group Headquarters, a dump at St Nicholas, the railroad station at Dombasle, the bridge at Dombasle, and our own company area. One morning about getting up time the company guards and those few who were already up and out saw a flying bomb pass over the factory. The explosion came about a mile beyond our place, rousing those who were still in bed to wonder if we were being attacked.

    Chaplain Chastain's office was in the civil affairs building.   Protestant services were held there every Sunday in one of the main club rooms.  The Catholics attended services in Dombasle at the local church.  The Rabbi came for services for the Jewish boys. At Dombasle the men had an especially good opportunity to attend religious services for almost each individual faith.

   We were at Dombasle when Marlene Dietrich came to town. She and her U.S.O. troupe appeared at the Solvay Casino, a few blocks from our location.  The old girl is still pretty nifty looking, despite her years, and when she gives you that certain look, well, most G.l. 's have but one thought in mind.  Her show was fast and funny, and featured some bright music. It was, altogether, an hour well spent. To further recreation during our off duty hours back at the company, as we didn't have a U.S.O. show all the time, Lt Reynolds picked up a Victrola and a box of popular records from the special service.  The climax came when the Victrola was set up in the factory and the company held an "invitation” dance.   Although invitations were issued, with French on one side and English on the other, anyfemale was welcome -whether she bad a written invitation or not.  The dance was a huge success, and there would have been others had we only stayed longer in the town.

  Even if operational activity was at a minimum one of the first jobs we did upon arrival at Dombasle was to check, wash and oil and grease all vehicles, vans included.  Repairs were made wherever needed; everything on wheels was tested for durability and permanence.  We would be ready to move out at any time the order was given. In addition to the required repairs and improvements all the vans installed stoves.  Stoves, the size we needed, were both hard to find, and expensive in Dombasle.  If we had only known how easily stoves could be found a little later on it is certain none would have been installed at Dombasle. As a further move toward preparation for cold weather the Supply Room put in its order for winter clothing.  Due to our low priority it was some weeks before the goods began to arrive, but before the heavy clothes were actually needed the company was well supplied.

   The middle of October the 841st had its first major loss in personnel.  Lt Orton's services were required at the base depot, so we had to give him up. It was hard to do, for Lt Orton had long been a successful depot supply officer, and he was as popular with the men as he was efficient in his depot work.

    By this period in our progress there were at least two radios in the company, and speakers where there was no radio.  The favorite listening for this time of the year was, as usual, the world series and the football games being played back in the states. Too, the November 7th doings -(there was a presidential election at home, remember?) -taking advantage of a lull on the front,  monopolized the headlines.  Both in France and "abroad" on November 11th were echoes of the first Armistice Day. The  American broadcasts described flag waving ceremonies going on that day back home, while we at Dombasle could see that the French people also remembered.  Patriotic services were held in the church and the civilians took another holiday.

  While the company at Dombasle - October 4 to November 15 – for its longest stop in France there was hardly anyone who wasn't invited to dinner in a French home.  Invitations were beau coup, the French insistent that we come.   We knew they had but little, but what they had they wanted us to share with them, and there was no way to avoid finally succumbing to an invitation to go out and "mahn-jay", as the blue book pronounces the French verb, manger, meaning "to eat".

    A story appeared in the November 5, 1944 issue of Yank Magazine on the subject of G.l.'s venturing into a French home for a meal and social evening.  The story of these G.I.'s so closely parallels our own experiences and expresses so well the feelings of many of us that it is herewith reproduced in full. Permission was given by Yank.       

   Author of the story is Cpl. Joe Schiffman.

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

  "Jive and La Marseillaise"

    Mac was invited to dinner at a French home, and he asked me to come with him. I guess he thought my French wouId help the conversation along.   Bob and Max came too.   That made four of us, quite a load of manpower for a family to feed in these times, but we were all welcome. We brought some of our own rations for them with cigarettes, cognac, chocolate and white bread to kind of even things up.

    We'd known the family ever since we came to this town.  They own the butcher shop across the street.  Its a nice little family of two daughters, father and mother. The girls are called Jacqueline and Colette and both are good-looking.  Jacqueline is dark with smiling eyes, but extremely reserved. She is 21, and her most formative years were spent in being hidden from the Germans. I suppose this is what made her so quiet. Colette is 16, quite different, vivacious in typical French style and well-developed for her years. She learned a little English in school and speaks it modestly in a half-sure way. The whole family is always smiling.

    We got there at about 1930 and were almost immediately taken to the dining room, right off the kitchen. The table was laid out in banquet style, bread rolled up in napkins and several different types of wine glasses before each setting. The lights were on that night, giving everything a festive glow, and the mother and her daughters were all dressed up, probably for the first time in a long while.  They made a happy, healthy picture. The French have a lot of pride and are abIe to put up a good front.

    The father sat on my left. All I knew of him was that one of the boys bad seen him spit in a collaborator's face as a string of them were being marched through town into prison. The family was informal, as most French families are, and soon we were calling the father, Papa and the mother, Mama. We got along fine. Papa seemed to be crazy about Mac. He watched him all night long with a delighted smile on his face, even though he couldn't understand a thing the garrulous Mac was saying. It was odd to see, but very human, as if there were perfect understanding in spite of the language barrier.

  We were soon calling Jacqueline, Jackie. She liked that. Next week she is going to Paris to join the French Army as an ambulance driver. Mama isn't crazy about the idea, but has decided that maybe it is for the best.

   The French have a reputation for good cooking and here was a woman who could really do it.  Maybe she learned it from her brother. He was a chef director in a big hotel on the Champs Elysees in Paris, but now is a work-prisoner in Germany. Mama is a woman of 45, still strong and attractive with a frank, mannish smile. She runs the house and helps in the store, takes care of her kids and acts as if its all easy and great fun.   The home had a happy atmosphere.

   The family kept watching Papa so that he wouldn't talk too much about the war.  He told us he had fought in 1918 and 1940, had been gassed and taken prisoner.  For three months at the prison camp he was given only thin soup to eat and had to eat the grass around the camp.  He bad seen hundreds of his comrades die there. The family kept saying, “Papa, stop", trying to get him to change the subject to something more cheerful.  He told me that while the Germans were here they had never been in his home. He became excited as he talked about "The Boche".  He told of their arrogance, their brutality towards members of the resistance movement and their systematic robbery of France.

   He tried to control his emotions by saying, "C'est fini; c'est fini" , but it was difficult for him. I tried to help him out by telling him soon France would recover. He then began to tell of what France and America meant to him, of what the President stood for and his voice broke and tears reddened his eyes. He grabbed me by the arm.  I proposed a toast to the free world and that went over big with them.

   The highlight of the meal was the serving of the cooked peaches in wine sauce.  A match was put to it and a blue flame danced over the peaches in the sauce pan.  Just then the lights went out, as they do in towns not yet back to normal, but that was fine. We sat in the dark watching the blue flame light up the peaches. All of us felt contented with the worId at that moment. Papa left and brought back a small petrol lam) that he placed in the center of the tableso that we could go on eating. More wine and then Jackie brought out a bottle of champagne covered with dust. They told us they had been saving this for four years for the day when the Americans would come.

    The boys were feeling pretty high by this time and began to sing. We were in great form and Mom and Pop and the two daughters sat there listening to us as if they were in a trance. They hadn't heard these songs for four years and if they had, they didn't remember them well.  It was as if a whole new world was opening to them. We sang, "You're Nobody's Sweetheart Now", the first chorus sweet and the second chorus in jump style by Bob. Then "Mary' s a Grand Old Name” and "Exactly Like You”.   They applauded us after each number and begged for more.  Mac gave an impromptu of Maurice Chevalier. He sang the songs that the old-timer bad made famous, "Louise” ,"Colette" for Colette, and "You've Brought A New Kind of Love to Me". The songs were swell and they brought back memories of the days when there was no Hitler and no collaborators.  How they all loved thatl Then we gave out with “Memories" in Ink Spot style. The old latrine quartet was solid.

   Over the second glass of champagne someone began singing “The Marseillaise" in French. The father stood up and the family sang in passionate, clear voices.  We all rose automatically and I beat out the time with my hands and arms. It was terrific. It was wonderful to stand there that way and sing. Having us to dinner meant so much to these people. The whole thing was of a strong emotional pattern.   That was obvious. And on top of that "The Marseillaise", a stirring and appropriate song. It gave us all a feeling of kinship. When we finished, the old man held my face in his hands, looked deep into my eyes until the tears started brimming in his own, then kissed me four times on each cheek, good, wet, healthy kisses.  He really meant them.  So I kissed him back in like manner. He hugged me for a second, then left the room. I guess the whole evening was too much for this man who had fought the Germans in two wars.

   Then Mama brought out the second dessert, a cake with the Cross of Lorraine on it. We sat around singing and looking at it. It looked so fine with the cross of struggle and liberty. Max struck up the old Schnozzle number, "Inkie Dinkie Doo".  That amused them; so on the second chorus Max had Colette sing the Inkie Dinkie Doo part which byher sounded like Eenkee Deenkee Do. It was great fun.

   We munched on the cake slowly.  Papa turned on the radio. It was the BBC with the news, which sounded good. A program of American dance recordings followed; so we all went into the kitchen, pushed the tables and chairs aside and danced. Papa wouldn't dance.  He just sat in the corner and watched us. He looked like the happiest man in the worId.

   The evening made our two-years stay overseas in preparation for the invasion seem worthwhile.  The French make the lowliest Sad Sack feel like the greatest and most important guy in the world. They are so grateful to the Americans. It makes all the loneliness and homesickness and personal disappointment we feel look small. They sayVive l'Amerique and call us draftees their Liberators.

  It’s a wonderful, rare experience to have people feel that way about you.

******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************     So ends "Jive and La Marseillaise".  But the story of what happened there is our own story of Dombasle, and will live in our minds as long as we remember what good and grateful hosts Frenchmen can be.

    Several days before we actually packed up the depot and made our bed rolls we knew that we'd soon be leaving Dombasle. The morning that orders came through there was a mad dash from house to house as men hurriedly picked up unfinished laundry. By this act and by our expressions, which could not hide a deep feeling of regret, Dombasle knew that soon she would be losing her Americans. Young and old alike flocked to the salt factory, and the young girls, especially made no effort to hide their tears. The leave-taking at this little town was like waving goodbye to friends we'd known all our life, so well acquainted had we become with these families of Lorraine.  Language had been no barrier as we had made their homes our homes, and shared their  hospitality. Surely there was never a war like this one.

   Shortly after noon on Wednesday, November 15th, the 841st convoy covered the ten miles to Jarville. The vans were placed on the lower floor of a repair garage and the company assigned sleeping quarters in the room above. The place was very open and airish, but within a day or two enough improvements had  been made so as to make it a satisfactory area from both the operational and personal standpoint.   To help heal the aching hearts wrought by the departure from Dombasle convoys went to the little town almost every night. It was only a few minutes ride, and the gradual break away from the associations there was good for company morale.

   The first Sunday at Jarville was marked by a wonderful occurrence.  We had our first ice cream since England.  Though the company was to have ice cream many times the remainder of our stay in France, and in Luxembourg, it tasted more nearly like heavenly food that day in Jarville than at any other time.  Thanksgiving Day, the following Thursday, was quite a feast itself.   We enjoyed turkey and dressing and ice cream again, everyone eating too much for comfort, as is the custom on such holidays.

   During the eleven days in Jarville - a suburb of Nancy, not twenty minutes walk from the center of the city - passes were given to any who wanted to spend half a day in the city. Many of the men went in and had pictures made, puttered around and bought a few postcards - about the only reasonably priced item in the city. Trucks went in every afternoon to the showers whose main feature was a warm water, indoor swimming pool.  For recreation, the special service showed a movie for us and the companies nearby in one of our rooms especially fixed up for shows.

   Lt Lanham made 1st Lt  here in Jarville, 2nd Major House was promoted to Lt Col.   Judge and Downs brought back two police (?) pups with them one night from Dombasle. These incidents are about all that set the day apart from another at Jarville.  The routine of the depot, as we got back into the habit of working, was the same as before.  The company was expectant, however, when the news came the day before we left Jarville that we were now a part of the 24th Ordnance Battalion.

   Sunday morning, November 26th, the depot gained the  highway once more as the 841st left for Dalhain.   Proceeding north from Nancy we passed through Chateay Salins (?), and it would seem that all civilization was in the rear.   From Nancy upwards was the devastation, as in Normandy, and no one was surprised when we drew up in the deserted village of Dalhain and took over the town.

   Dalhain was under as thick a layer of mud as a town can be and still be recognizable.  It was completely deserted, with the exception of two or three male civilians, at first – later a family with children moved back to their home.  The immediate impression of the place was that it was a hole, at best; but fortunately, for everyone, the depot was far too busy to be much impressed with Dalhain, one way or another.  Here it was an all-out, all-business deal.  The depot was very active, and more was accomplished in the two weeks at Dalhain than at any period since the previous summer.  We had a heavy load:  the inheritance of the 836th(?) Depot, and before any strides could be made forward a couple of days were spent unraveling the puzzle left us.  Within a short time the situation was normal and the 841st was issuing and filling back orders with a minimum of delay and a maximum of efficiency.  The cooperation of every man in the depot was more noticeable and keenly felt in the operations at this one place than anywhere since the “big deal” days of Alencon(?).

    Fall had lengthened into winter, though the weather had yet to be really cold, and the days were becoming shorter, the nights longer.  To break the monotony of one of the long evenings, the battalion endeavored to screen a movie.  There was a lot of trouble with the generator and the sound track, but after a four hour attempt, the Ann Sheridan picture, “Shine on Harvest Moon”, had been seen by a lot of us.

    From Dalhain the company moved to Sarralbe, on the Saar Basin, Sunday December 11th.  Billets were in another salt factory as the depot was set up under the giant fir trees in the enclosure.  It was a compact area for both the company and battalion, but the colonel, who trusted no natural boundaries, demanded protection – and got it.  An unreasonable number of our men were guards – chiefly in the vicinity of the colonel’s trailer.  The depot continued to operate at a lively pace, despite all.

   The salt plant at Sarralbe was an unusually comfortable building.  The kitchen, supply room, depot headquarters and sleeping quarters for the company were all in one building.  Gatewood and Kichler  went to work and bled the radiators, the result being that we were soon enjoying steam heat.  The day before we were to leave Sarralbe the showers were renovated, and we could add hot baths, for one night, at least, to the list of conveniences.

     It was at Sarralbe the company lost its first and second groups to the infantry.  In the first group, which left December 16th, were two volunteers – Galliez and Riffenbury.  The other seven men chosen to make up the ten percent quota were Bill Malone, Joe Fortsman, Elvin Cantrell, Austin Bragg, ? Williams, Sullivan and Hollis.  In the second group which left three days later was one volunteer – John Lakey.  The other men chosen were Ivey Henderson, Alejandro Lopez, Carl Anderson, Alvin Kerr, Frank Collins, Trine Garcia, James Jefferies and Sam Maynard.  To choose certain men from his command to go infantry was the toughest decision of his career to make, Captain Fuller said.  For the enlisted men to see their friends leave the company, especially with and infantry future as the prospect was bitter medicine. Anyone could have been chosen to go, and it was with mixed feelings that we saw these men go to represent the 841st on the front lines.

   News of the German breakthrough in Belgium and Luxembourg began to come over the radio, and the depot made ready to move as soon as it should get the call.  Following orders on the 21st – we were again with the 314th Batallion – the company left Sarralbe about noon for Luxembourg. It was a long trip, carrying the convoy through Metz and Thionville, Luxembourg City and finally, after two strafing attacks by German planes, that night to the town of Dudelange. 

LUXEMBOURG

   The arrival in Luxembourg, enroute to Dudelange, was greeted with a rousing and exciting reception.  With our convoys bumper to bumper and extending over miles of highway, it was too rare an opportunity for the Luftwaffe to miss.  Just outside Metz a lone plane dove down upon us but was generally unsuccessful in its strafing attempt. None of our vehicles were hit.  Further, as the 841st convoy was within a few miles of Dudelange the commotion was greater.  A plane swept low, it guns opened up and the ammo whizzed in every direction.  Vehicles emptied as men hit the ground.  Again we suffered no damage or casualties.  But the convoy was thoroughly scattered by this time, and for several hours vans and vehicles   turned into the L'hotel De Ville (city hall) at Dudelange from every road, it seemed, that led in the place.

   The extensive grounds of the L'hotel De Ville (city hall) at Dudelange made a convenient stopping place for the depot.  By the light of a full moon the vans were drawn up along side the building, in driveways, and in the narrow streets enclosing the town hall.  Thoroughly tired from the long, hard trip the company was assigned sleeping quarters on the first floor of the hall, in the hallway itself.  Our officers slept in one wing of our floor, another company occupied the second floor, and the battalion and the medics had the third floor.

   Snow was on the ground when we arrived in Dudelange, but the Luxembourg weather was a great improvement over what we left behind in France.  During the next two days, as the advance party looked for another area, depot operations were naturally at a virtual standstill, although a surprising number of units located the depot right away and came in early the first morning for parts.   Being in the center of a town the men took to the streets to see what Luxembourg was like.

   The most surprising fact, perhaps, was that even the children here spoke a little English.  In the stores most of the clerks spoke English fluently, and on the streets civilians answered “bonjour” with “good morning”.   After four months of France this was a change for the better.

   The window displays of a majority of the stores were attractive, but, like France, there was little to buy on the inside.  The post card shops continued to do a land-office business.  Kodak film was sold everywhere, and a lot of pictures were snapped of the town.  The national drink, schnapps, was formally introduced the second night of our stay in the city hall when several of the Luxembourg officials got together and threw a lively little party.   Christmas Eve morning (a Sunday) the Chaplain held services in the auditorium upstairs, and after dinner that afternoon the depot and its attached units left for Luxembourg City.

   The early afternoon of the 24th was bright and the air was filled with the roar of bombers and fighters going over as the company pulled in at the Luxembourg barracks.  The depot settled very compactly in the space around the barracks, and sleeping quarters were in the build.  Work came in fast now, and the early part of Christmas Eve night, at least, featured the stir of activity as we filled orders and made up requisitions.  Eventually, of course, a few hoarded bottles of "snake bite cure" were opened.  Yells, loud laughter and singing came from within the vans as the company celebrated Christmas as best we could, this season of 1944.  The Depot Headquarters trailer fairly bulged with carolers and singers of popular, sentimental songs.  But when the ack ack guns let loose a barrage at a plan, vans and trailers emptied men into the street, still curious for the heart-warming sight of a hit and a "kaput Boche avion".

   If Christmas seemed like any other day in the ETO without exception, the chow there was a lot of pleasure to be had in the eating.  The depot was humming with orders, the trucks went to base as usual, the boys from the front were there to pick up parts. Reminding anyone who may have forgotten that this was no ordinary December 25th.  Thus, the only break came at dinnertime as we sat down to Wolfe’s cooking at its best.  The kitchen’s turkey was the high mark of Christmas, 1944, for us at the depot, and was the one thing that made Christmas … Christmas, after all.

   After supper in the evenings, while at the barracks, the Swing Club, the Apollo Club and the Black Cat were found to be in the neighborhood. Night life in the old manner, if on a small scale, was resumed.  There had been nothing on this order in France, and the discovery of joints, basically like the ones at home, was reason for celebration.  Not that conversation was important but most of the Luxembourg girls spoke English.  Some of them too well!

    On Tuesday, January 11th, 1945, the company moved to the stadium out on the edge of the city.  On the whole the stadium was a very good location.  The men were billeted in the rooms which had been dressing rooms in the days when Luxembourg could enjoy their sports, and each rooms had two showers.  The kitchen took over the former restaurant, or “Restauration”, of the stadium, and the guards used the outdoor box offices for guard posts.  The adjoining lot housed a complete garage which was put to good use by the  motor pool.  For the first few weeks snow covered the ground so as to limit the use of the athletic field, but when the snow melted the field became a very popular place.    The Luxembourgers came out on Sunday afternoons for their Rugby match, some British Tommys were there one afternoon, also for Rugby, and the 841st had its own baseball team.  Challenging such outfits as the 436th AA and Headquarters of the 314th Battalion, we had a spirited, if brief, season.  It isn't remembered who won the games, or what the scores were, but Tommy Lee’s pitching stood him out as our outstanding player.

    Incidentally, one of the main topics of conversation about this time was how well Lady Luck continued to stay with the company.  The night after we left the barracks for the stadium a shell fell on that part of the building in which the officers and the cooks had stayed, and demolished it entirely. A young girl, living with her family in one of the apartments, was killed.  Yes, the "Boche" were still shelling Luxembourg City 24 hours a day.

   During the ten weeks we stayed at the stadium, as the counteroffensive got under way, depot business hit a stride of from very active to moderate.  As side lights of the company stay here it is recalled that congratulations were in order for Lt Reynolds, who was promoted to First Lieutenant, and that a welcome was extended to 2nd Lt Richard Prendergast, who joined the company, replacing Lt Orton.  Recreational activities ranged from playing ball and one (? Movie ?) at the stadium, to taking in the sights of Luxembourg City.  Lanter and Abell won the three day passes to Paris, and came back to say that the French city is very interesting!

   The capitol of Luxembourg was a fine place itself.  The city has plenty of sleek-looking cafes and dance halls and bars where you can get beer, schnapps, wine, and sometimes, cognac.  The Red Cross was in a big modern building and offered movies every night or so, in addition to its usual doughnuts and coffee.  On the second floor in the auditorium the 3rd Army swing band gave several concerts, and, in the lower dining room, where we sat at tables to drink coffee and eat doughnuts, usually a division orchestra played while G.I.’s cut up as only G.I.’s can.  At the Municipal Theatre, where the program changed every two days, the shows were good.  In the afternoon a few men from the depot could go into town to the pictures and see the sights.  For daytime visitors, the bakeries and ice cream parlors were good for a brand of snacks we’d missed for a long time; and, of course, there was always the bistro.  The historic scenes around the city were photogenic material for camera enthusiasts.  Such landmarks as the gigantic, imposing Adolphe Bridge, and the settlements in the valley beneath the bridge, the three cathedral spires which met the eyes at every turn of the horizon – these and the many fine public buildings were interesting sights for the G.I.’s so long used to the flattened towns of France.

   An event of great pride to the company was the presentation by Colonel Sears, of the 69th Ordnance Group Headquarters, of the Meritorious Service Plaque to the 841st.   (See section on Commendations).   As the company stood in formation on the athletic field, wind and sleet giving more than its share of competition, Mr Hodges of the battalion, read the commendation. Afterwards, Colonel Sears added his personal thanks and congratulations for a job which he said was well done.

   Sunday, long the traditional moving day for the 841st coincided with March 4th, the day we took leave of Luxembourg City.  The  convoy was on the road by noon and turned in the direction of Bollendorf, on the Luxembourg side of the Luxembourg-German  border. Driving through battered Echternach to the road running parallel with the Sure (Fr. or Sauer Ger.) River, and Germany across the river, a few miles brought the company to the railway station at Bollendorf, our destination. The depot now shared its area with the 77th Finance, in addition to Battalion Headquarters and the battalion medics. The kitchen found quarters in the ground floor of the hotel across from the station, while the officers and men slept in rooms in the upper stories. The weather at Bollendorf, during our stay there, was poor, and the area soggy from too much rain. Depot activities, however, continued at a healthy rate, and the vehicle pool, especially did heavy business.  Most of the men found time for a walk around on the German side of the river, thereby adding to the number of Yanks, who, by entering Germany, made that soil really "holy" for the first time.

    From Bollendorf, the 841st crossed over into Germany Saturday March 10th.

GERMANY

    Through the heavily bombed and shell-torn fringes of Germany our convoy wound its way through Bitburg, the only town of any size, through the crumbling ruins of hamlets, and over the rolling country leading to the miserable settlement at Orsfeld. The one by-way of the village, once a brick street of sorts, was now concealed beneath a coating of contemptible mud. The company area sprawled from the upper reaches of the village, from where it began at the highway, down three blocks, to and including the triangular shaped block around which clustered many of the vans and where the battalion medics were situated.  The company slept in tents on the hill behind the kitchen. Each section of the depot was widely separated from the other. Not only was the area as inconvenient at it was depressing , but the curious fact is that  the company gave neither matter much thought.  We had been in bad places before, and this was Germany. Should we be surprised?

   While the company was at Orsfeld sixteen Belgium troops were attached to the depot for guard duty. These boys, all of them very young, were British equipped and spoke French. They stayed together in a tent large enough to accommodate them all. The Belgiums were new army recruits and had had practically no military training. Evidently none of them had ever been on guard before, as we had to teach them the routine procedure from beginning to end.  They learned quickly, and in spite of the difficulty of explaining things to them in French the Belgiums got to know us and soon became alert and useful guards.

   From Orsfeld Tuesday, March 13th the depot moved on 27 miles - through Daun - to Utzerath. This area was a great improvement over the last one.  We camped on a green plain at the crossing of three roads, at the foot of a hill in every direction. The deep woods in the background, from which a number of deer were seen straying, was a challenge to the hunters. Parties went out every day, and Hazlewood and Kacaba, at least, came back with a deer.  As a matter of fact, the First Sergeant and "Booker T.", with or without hunting license, were the real sportsmen of the crowd; during the "season" both men shot three deer apiece.

  Down the road from the depot was a Quartermaster shower unit where we went for hot baths while at Utzerath. Price brought in two Jerrys while out walking in the woods one day, Wolfe returned from Paris after taking Alex, the French cook, back to his outfit; and the 841st brought out its sooty buckets and began washing its laundry on a wholesale scale. The good old days of France and Luxembourg, where the kids fought for the privilege of washing your clothes, was but a memory.

    Sunday, March 18th, we moved 50 miles to Bell.  The depot was again centered around a railroad station, or dee-po, as such a place is usually called. From Bell, three days later, the company left for Bad Kreuznach. Kreuznach was the first town of any size we had yet come to in Germany, and was where we first encountered large numbers of German civilians.  The place the depot moved into was a dairy.   A few hundred yards to the side was a large and handsome estate, the grounds of which we used to pitch our tents.

    The stay at Bad Kreuznach was more interesting than at many other places - both inside and outside Germany - mostly due to the discovery of limitless supply of wine he could drink and as much as he could store away for future use, and, not unexpectedly, a lot of morning after headaches.

  On Monday, March 26th, orders came to move. The advance to Gross Gerau today, however, was no ordinary move. En route we crossed the Rhine, the 841st being the first ordnance depot in the 3rd Army to make the crossing.  According to the official XII Corps report the 841st was over the Rhine River within 72 hours after the first bridge was built.  The crossing of the pontoon bridge at Oppenheim, under the smoke screen and tension - which was still in the air, would remain the crowning point of our ETO career.

  The night of the 26th the company made a forced bivouac on the sides of the road a few miles beyond Gross Gerau. The following morning the convoy formed again and reentered the town. The depot set up around a marmalade factory, then being partially occupied by the 5th Infantry Division Quartermaster. In one of the buildings repairs were made on the water pipes, the fire built up, and we had hot showers.

The first night in the area the 5th Division boys showed a movie to which the 841st had a good representation. The next morning as the 5th pulled out of the area their movie projector and our disappointment  went with them. But our time for Gross Gerau was short, and we weren't in the habit of seeing movies, anyway.

    From Gross Gerau the company proceeded to Mulheim, Friday, March 30th.  A 25 mile trip over paved highways brought us in record time to the new area. The kitchen was quickly in operation, and by twelve-thirty we were eating a hot dinner. The company area was the grounds of a former machine plant. Some tents were pitched, but a lot of the men moved into some shack or other for sleeping.

    Easter Day was observed while the company was at Mulheim. Services for the Catholics were held at Corps Headquarters, and Chaplain (Marshall) Chastain's Protestant service at Battalion. The remaining hours of Easter were quiet and uneventful - until, that is, late in the afternoon. About five o'clock news came that a German pocket had broken out and that the depot was in possible danger. The number of guards was raised from three to ten men a relief, and the company was alerted. That night, without doubt, was one of the most sleepless this company has ever had. A civilian was picked up early in the evening, soon after dark, wandering down the road, but this was as far as the appearance of an enemy materialized - much to everyone's relief. 

   The next morning our move to Schlitz, one day delayed, was accomplished.  From Mulheim to Schlitz - a distance of 67 miles- was the company's longest single move to date in Germany. The first night in Schlitz the depot was at the local railroad station.  Yet the next afternoon we packed again and set up half a mile in another direction.

    The depot was now in a small cotton weaving mill and in the wide area spread around it. The days were cloudy and threatening, but the advance of the armies continued and our business kept up its pace with the forward units. The supply line was becoming increasingly longer, and the 841st was still commuting back and forth from Metz - over 200 miles from Schlitz - for its vehicles.  While this great distance necessarily involved the expenditure of valuable time - both on our part, and particularly the front line troops who depended on the depot for its supplies a supreme effort was made to lick this problem by sending out crews of drivers to Metz and Alzev daily.  We  accepted the challenge of distance versus time and as proof that it was the depot that won the race our vehicle pool remained well stocked with tanks, half- tracks, M10's, weasels, six-bys, three-quarter tons and peeps.  The base depot had moved to Mainz. For parts to reach our using units required but a few hours.

  April 8th, Sunday, the company covered 60 miles and came to Wasungen.  Our circuitous route had, by this time brought the 841st  310 miles inside Germany, coming as we did from the frontier as far as the town of Wasungen.

   Settling in a small area factory the company had free run of a compact  and convenient area, as the volume of depot business steadily increased the men still found time in the evenings, which remained light until after  nine o'clock, to indulge in a favorite civilian past time: fishing.   The swift,  narrow stream running through the area boasted many white carp and suckers, and they were easy to catch.  Man, what an evening it was - an old-time fish fry!

   At Wasungen the depot said a reluctant farewell to the second of its officers to be transferred within a week. Mr. Semple left us at Schlitz to join Lt Orton at the base depot, and new Lt Robertson's services were required by another battalion. While it makes the depot feel proud that other outfits recognize the ability of our officers, not a man in the company is so unselfish not to begrudge the loss of Mr. Semple and Lt Robertson.  Both  had been on the original cadre of the company and have seen the 841  through thick and thin for almost two years.   As they leave the company for duties elsewhere the 841st wishes each of them the very best of luck the army can give.

   The morning of Friday, April 13th every man's heart was heavy as we turned our radios and heard BBC so rightly describe President Roosevelt's sudden death as the most tragic loss of the war.   Late the previous night a few had heard the report of the President's death but it was not until the following day when the networks were full of the details was the shock of America's and the world's loss felt to the full.  The death of the President left a vacuum which it seemed to us that day could never be filled: Roosevelt had carried our country so very far and had gained for us so very much, it was almost beyond belief that such a man could pass out of the picture as though he were an ordinary figure.  The grief of G.l.'s in the 841st and everywhere in the ETO was sincere and heartfelt.

   War does not allow time out for tears, as we all know, and soon after breakfast that morning the company took to the highway and followed the signs pointing to Brattendorf. The move was made across a section of Germany's most handsome farmland - soil which if not holy, as the Germans seemed to believe, was certainly fertile and as black and rich and productive as any people could want.  Viewing many thousands of such acres, much of which was not even under cultivation, we could not but wonder why Germany, with so much prosperity within her own backyard, wanted the rest of Europe for a doorstep.

   At Brattendorf, which was no more than a factory in which the depot settled and a few houses on either side of the highway, the days passed without excitement.  Once we thought there might be some trouble when what looked like Jerries were seen going up into the woods above the area. It was about twilight Sunday night, and although a detail went out and sprayed the woods with practically every weapon at our command no prisoners surrendered, no bodies were found, and no more movements by  suspicious-looking characters were reported the duration of our stay at Brattendorf.

   From Brattendorf on Monday, April 16th, the depot came to Neuhaus.  Our area was one of the main German plants of the Siemens' porcelain insulating works, a company which corresponds to General Electric and Westinghouse in the states, and was laid out to the advantage of all concerned.  One of the most popular features were the tile showers of which there must have been more than two dozen.  The company showered in the beginning from necessity and then from the keen pleasure and satisfaction that a good shower can give.  A refugee camp was situated nearby and that, of course, may have had no little to do with the general sprucing up of appearance.

  Two convoys, while we were at Neuhaus, went to the concentration-horror camp at Buchenwald, just outside Weimar.  All Americans are genuinely shocked and spellbound by such inhuman sights and the men of the 841st were no exception.  The photographs they took at Buchenwald bear out all they described, were unable to describe, and showed much that has to been seen to be believed.

   On Friday, April 20th, we left Neuhaus for the area a few miles north of Bayreuth. As we passed through two small Bavarian towns enroute we almost shouted with hysterics at one particular evidence of German culture: in the public square of one town was a fountain in the form of a large buxom woman, quite nude; from each of her large breast spouted a stream of water. In another small town in the public square was a statue of a small boy, also naked.   He, too, was a fountain with water pouring from that part of the anatomy most expected.

   Above Bayreuth as we made our first bivouac in several weeks the rough out-of-doors life featured every freak of which the weather is capable.  The arrival was calm enough: it was a fine Spring day, not a cloud in the sky and the air was a little warm.  By the next day, however, winter had succeeded Spring again.  When the rain seemed to stop, sleet began, and snow flurries came in the wake of the sleet.  The hill, which was the backbone of the area, became a goulash of mud. Our tents were the only refuge against the weather.

    While in this area the company received its first quota of furloughs to the Riviera.  Whatley and McBee, the two lucky ones to make up the 841st delegation, could scarcely believe the good news when the captain told them. They left for the long trip to Luxembourg on one of the worst mornings we had at the time, and were glad enough to trade the sunny Riviera for the slush of Bayreuth.

   During these days in the open, business was light; it would seem that our units had lost contact with the depot.  On the other hand our days here were in no way a rest cure as the depot found time at last to catch up on many repairs of its own, long overdue and delayed by constant, if not always strenuous, work for its using units.  The humdrum  routine of ETO life was occasionally broken, nevertheless, as early one morning, (Gerald) Donah, being on guard, shot and killed a young Jerry soldier who refused to halt when given the order; and when battalion, through the chaplain, would show a movie at the nearby C-47 airstrip.

     Just four days after our arrival at Bayreuth no one regretted pulling stakes for the move to Weiden. Tuesday, the 24th, our convoy turned south east, most of the way on good roads, and by noon was in the R.A.W. works, a locomotive repair yard, in the town of Weiden.  It was more than agreeable to get back to buildings, and the Welden area was a good example of the kind of place most of us preferred.  Utilizing the immense repair garages to house the vans, it was an ideal spot  for depot operations, and moving into the office buildings and shacks scattered about every man had a suitable room in which to sleep and write his letters.  Concrete  roadways joined one extremity of the works area with the other, and the enclosure in which we found ourselves was certainly extensive. From the main gate to the mess at the far end of the area was a good 3/4 mile, and time out had to be allowed for walking to and from the mess hall as well as for the meal itself, when chow time rolled around. There were no complaints on the distance as the walk was easily worth the trouble. The kitchen was situated in what had formally been the central dining hall for the repair plant, in spacious, made to order quarters.  Connecting with the kitchen, you remember, was a dining room twice as large as the one the company had at Knox, in which we could sit at tables and eat our meals in comfort. At night the mess hall became a theater as everybody gathered to see a couple of movies lent by special service.

    It was in this area that we picked up our own movie projector which by the time we got to Regan a few days later was adjusted to show films.    The atmosphere was clearing on the war front as we heard the announcement of the linkup with the Russians; the feeling that very soon the fighting would be over invaded everyone's thoughts. The European chapter of World War II was fast coming to an end as the company left Weiden for Regen Sunday morning, April 29th.

    The move to Regan was a long one and in the process of climbing steep hills and plowing across some of the world's worst roads the old Depot Headquarters truck gasped its last and had to be towed the last eight miles into Regen. The new area was a combination railroad station and lumber-storage yard. The depot began at the station and spread itself out beyond the last foot of stacked lumber which ran parallel with the railroad tracks for some two hundred yards. The vans were lined up on either side of the dirt road running through the center of the area and the company found sleeping quarters for itself in the station, mainly, and in the box cars standing idle on the tracks.

   The day after the company's arrival at Regen the rain began and the days as well as the nights were cold.  On May Day and for several succeeding days, snow took up where the rain left off, and we were having quite a time trying to figure out what would come next. In the meanwhile, camera fiends –a group which by now included nearly the entire company - rushed out to take pictures of snow in May to show to their wives and sweethearts. The opinion was that it would take a picture to convince the folks at home.  One afternoon during one of these snow flurries a Red Cross Clubmobile appeared on the scene, turned on its music and opened its counters for business. Despite the weather the depot gave the girls an enthusiastic welcome, and a long line formed for the coffee and doughnuts which, on this particular afternoon, hit a good spot.

  The days passed, each bringing more good news: we heard that Italy was finished, that all German troops in the North had surrendered.  

   And then came the proclamation of V-E Day.  The end was something of a letdown; it was hard to grasp the meaning of no more war in Europe; and despite the wild celebrations in New York, London and Paris, the G.I.'s in Regen took the news quietly.   The end had come so piecemeal that the proclamation of V-E Day seemed an anti-climax. It made little immediate difference in our lives. The depot went to breakfast the following morning at seven o'clock, as usual, and then plunged into a typical day's work. The companies and divisions we serviced brought in their requisitions as though nothing had happened and we sent our trucks to base. As time went on, as a natural consequence of the cease fire order, we did begin to feel the results of V*E Day: the depot lost many of its units and those still with us brought in fewer and fewer orders.   Actually, the 841st depot after a few days, took on the appearance of a health camp, what with everyone lying around in the sun with only shorts on and doing little more than eating three times a day and getting plenty of sleep.

    For recreation we had movies almost every night. Brother (William P.) Camp had the movie projector in fine fettle and the speaker system practically perfect.  For a while the movies were shown in a small room in the house next to the officers' quarters, but eventually we began to use the town theater.   The mess hall kept a keg of alcohol-less beer handy all times, and the House of Halftrack – Mr. (Tom) Alexander and (Sam) Westbrook, Proprietors - became the next best thing to a beer garden.  In fact Sam did tend a little garden out by the side of the van and the keg of beer was always set up there.  “Makes it sort of nice", said Sam, "and a lot like the places you're used to going to".

   Blackouts disappeared, but that didn’t help the feeling for the first few nights that maybe they ought to be put up anyway.  Censorship eased up and then was abolished entirely.   A  QM Shower Unit was located in the middle of Regen, and church services on Sundays were held on an island in the river which passed along the edges of the town. The education and  recreation program was explained, and applications were filled out giving preference to the subjects each man wanted to study. And one Sunday afternoon a convoy of two trucks took a sightseeing trip into Czechoslovakia.  Another pastime for these quiet days was watching the Jerry convoys pass on their way to PW camps. It was a curious sight to see both German and American convoys on the same road - one going one way and the other taking the opposite direction. Or funnier still, to look up and see a German truck with a Jerry at the wheel, and a peep going down the road one after the other as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Then came the announcement of the point system and all other  recreation was put in the shade.  Everybody was adding up his points, and how soon this one and that one expected to leave for home was the subject of all conversation.

   The 841st gained a new officer, 1st Lt Joseph C. Petrone, who was welcomed to the depot at a company meeting by the captain a few days after we came to Regen.

   As this account of our activities is brought up to date, word comes that one of our men, George Drakos, chief cook and bottle washer - well, chief cook, anyway - has made an American citizen on German soil. Congratulations, George!

***************************************************************************************************************************************************

   This report on the history of our company ends with V-E Day for two reasons. First, we are even now losing a few of our men by the point system, and more will continue to leave in the coming months. As these men leave the 841st they have every right to take with them this account of themselves and their company's progress. Secondly, the mission of this depot was completed May 8, 1945.   What follows V-E Day is another story. 

      As a company we have worked together, lived and strived together toward but one goal: finishing off this war as soon as possible so we can return home: and, all modesty aside, we have not done badly. Our efforts as an ordnance depot have been recognized: we have, in fact, been awarded honors few companies can boast of.   In our daily lives but few personal disagreements have interrupted that feeling of good fellowship that has always been our most important asset as a company. Beyond respect for our officers we have respected each other and stood by one another when the chips were down. The tie of friendship between men in the army, such as exists in the depot, is unequaled by any other bond to which an outfit attributes its success. Through the personal regard of one man for another this company had cooperated over and above the call of duty and thereby completed its mission with outstanding success.

    Whatever our future as a depot company, as we maintain the spirit that has carried us so far, the 841st will be an outfit of which its men and the army can be proud.

• • • Home