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Notebook of Joseph John Rathgeb
Husband of Eleanor O’Brien Rathgeb
Uncle of Maureen, Bill, (Helen, Jo Ann and Barbara) Langham
Godfather of Bill Langham
1944
(Editor’s Note: Joe was a 1st lieutenant in the 96th Division Artillery at the time of
Eleanor’s death. He was a liaison pilot serving overseas according to the obituary in the
Rye Chronicle. He and Eleanor were married in May 1943. Eleanor died September 15,
1944, from tuberculosis, while he was in France.)
July 25, 1944
Shall always remember with a great deal of pleasure my second trip to Scotland, even
tho’ the hours before train + boat connections were rather long. Spent them in the British
N.A.A.F.I. at Stranrear, (sic. Stranraer) Scotland in company with a couple of the more
miserly members of the Company. However I did not begrudge them the numberless cups
of tea, wee cakes and orange drink they consumed at my expense. * B.F. Johnston with a
T. (Ed. Note – Stranraer on coast near Dumfries)
July 26
Rain and darkness saw us to the docks where we caught the boat train for Liverpool.
Equipment shrugged off lights dimmed and sleep sitting, sprawled and twisted like
grotesque puppets. Liverpool, grimy and drab, very like our own smoky Pittsburgh,
received us at 1100 hours with a brief stopover at Wigan for a breakfast of tea and
scones. At Depot 0-633 picked up our Company vehicles and at 1500 hrs the convoy was
snaking its way thru the tunnel at Liverpool. Arrived at Preston around 1600 hrs.
Stopping over Moor Park convoy staying area. English camp, nuff said, straw mattresses
wondering chow (wondering what it is) English blankets with + without fleas, all the
discomforts, none of the comforts. ( Ed. Note – Wigan, a coal mining town near
Manchester;
July 27
Slept late, formation at 1000. Passes. At 1530 took off for town, nice – First sample of
English ale at “Royal Lion Inn” not bad – To the Regent palace dance hall – No
Jitterbugging. Wound up with Steve, + Barry [Berry?], tho earlier the party consisted of
Kole, Derry, Mort, and Ken. Back to camp at 12 midnight.
July 28
The equipment for which we are waiting, has not arrived yet another couple of days
layover Good deal. From 12 noon to-day till 12 tomorrow. No town, no nothing. CQ. Sgt.
of the Guard kid classes (Public Park adjoins the camp, and kids are hanging on the rails
like sparrows, chase one flank and another lights like birds tho’ they have taking wings.
Even the Bobbie is hard pressed to keep them moving. Belfast was bad but here the only
phrase they seem to know is “Any gum chum?” Wish darkness would come perhaps that
will send them home. What a helluva way to fight a war. Truant officers in khaki.
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July 29
In to town tonight with a gang from the Company. Pubs open from 7 till 10 much more
like our own, with lots of singing a couple of brawls, all good clean fun? One pub the
Balmoral - Whee! Out of this world, femmes d’amour as the French say from 16 to 60.
July 30
Sunday, slept late, equipment came in yesterday but dock workers off. To Red Cross
around three, dashed off a couple of long overdue letters later a few beers with a Belgian
Officer. Walked back to camp, turned in around 10:30.
July 31
Up with the dawn. To docks for equipment. Unloaded at 1400. work late tonight ;\leave
before dawn tomorrow if we can get things stowed correctly. After tea time tonight
Company lined up a working girl 13 years old raped (s) near camp. Went thru the files
checking l’homme. Sordid, but the women here have a reputation far from bright favor
the negro troops who pass thru on convoy, not at all an uncommon sight to see a
blackbird with a white girl. It’s gonna take something to keep them in place come their
return to the states. Working late tonight loading the vehicles looks as id the scheduled
start at 0400 is due to be kept. Pay day, but no pay. Wonder if our next pay will be in
France.
Aug. 1, 1944
Up at 0330 hrs. breakfast, packed, turned in blankets. Stowed duffle bags, marched to
motor pool. 0500 saw first vehicle leave park. Fragments of morning mist still clinging to
hedgerows as we turned away from Preston. First stop at 0710. we really made time,
every two hours a ten minute break stopped around 1300 hrs for lunch, went into town
with Lt. Ark to arrange or gassing of vehicles. We are heading south numerous aerdromes
[sic.] along the roads. Italian P.W. working in the fields helping harvest the first stand of
wheat, shimmering in the summer haze like a golden carpet. Thru quaint English villages,
still drowsy tho’ war fronts are quite close. Bristol, Exeter, are put behind us. Bristol still
bearing the scars of earlier bombings we are nearing our destination around 830 in the
evening, tired, dirty and dusty, the convoy drives into the little town of Bridestowe. A
glad shout and there is one of the boys from the Co. who preceded us in the marching
party. We are at the end of our trip. A bunk, a cup of coffee a quick wash and bed.
Aug. 2
We sleep to 1100, out to take a reading. A transient camp located in beautiful
countryside in famed Devonshire. Time for a shave and lunch. We are paid [in pounds]
we get our mail, we straighten up our equipment and soon its suppertime. Saunter down
the hill to the tiny village nestled at the hills bottom. A beautiful old church, two mellow
inns, a graveyard with tombstones dating back to 1739. We sit outside the Royal Oak Inn,
have a guiness [sic.]. In the evening calm it seems incredible that not so many miles away
men are dying in the new offensive which is shattering the Normandy front. Back to
camp and lights out.
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Aug. 3
Uncrate equipment. Hope to get some letters written this evening. Since the mail
came in have a pile to answer and I do mean pile. The lure to go to town coupled with a
comfortably filled wallet may spoil this resolution.
Aug. 4
A beautiful day. the countryside here in south Devon, right on the edge of Cornwall is
so very like my favorite state that I find myself surveying the rolling hills with nostalgia.
Today the summer peace was shattered by the faint rumble of ack ack from nearby
Plymouth. Later in the afternoon a huge swarm of Fortresses covering the horizon like
silver splinters swept across the blue simmer sky. For three quarters of an hour they
droned overhead, menacingly magnificent. Glad to have ‘em on our side.
Aug. 5
Routine
Aug. 6
Routine
Aug. 7
Routine
Aug. 8
Monotonous, isn’t it?
Aug. 9
Tonight leave on a 24 hr pass, should have something to tell you tomorrow.
Aug. 10
Arrived in Exeter around 7:30 in the evening, walked up to the Red Cross, formerly a
college building, it sits high on a hill with a terrace facing a panorama of Devon
countryside that is beautiful. Grabbed a bite of supper then went down into the town for a
bus. Our steps led us eventually to the “Shippe Inn” a tavern as old as time, hidden away
in a crowded lane it bears the following legend on the lintel stained by time “Next to
mine own shippe I do most love that old “shippe” in Exon a tavern in St. Martens lane –
Sir Frances Drake 1587. here with his seamen he used to spend his shore leave and now
nearly four hundred years later H.M.S. and U.S.N. Poles and French, American airmen
and army, R.A.F. and New Zealanders were crowded again, enjoying the Relaxation of
drinking, soaking in unconsciously the aura of time which seeped from the oaken beams,
the worn tiled floor and darkened mantle of the hearth. Back to the Red Cross, past
blocks of blitzed buildings, and heaps of rubble, gleaming starkly in the dusk of the late
summer evening. TO bed around 12:30, slept until 9.00 Breakfast. Adequate barely food
here is really scarce a tiny piece of salt pork, toast oatmeal and coffee. Went to the office
of A.R. C. Director to try to contact Carl Dannemora whom we had last seen so many
months ago in Iceland only to find that he had moved.
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Spent the rest of the day visiting the cathedral of Exeter, beautiful beyond belief,
potmarked with age, the earliest part dating back to the 10th century. Inone of the recent
air raids, a direct hit was scored on one of the transepts. Fortunately, the priceless stained
windows had long since been removed, but the damage done is irreparable. Wars futility.
Spoke to a student sketching the tower, on tour with a chum his notebook was noteworthy
for a collection of sketches of churches all over England, a nice boy, soon to be
conscripted let us hope, victory will come before he has to put aside his versatile pencil.
At 1:00 went to the Ships Inn again for a sandwich. At two toured the old side streets,
the Cardinals garden, behind the cathedral, fragrant with the pungent odor of box, serene
with the peace of age. No chance to eat so to a R. Cross Canteen, six donuts [unreadable scufsaearofie]. Train time 6 o’clock, but the train is late [not unusual] At 8 it puffed into
the station. At 9.30 we alighted at the tiny station at Bridestowe, stood all the way, but
the countryside was beautiful and time flew by. Camp, over the wall, only a few hours
late, to bed at 12 tomorrow is another day.
Aug. 11
Back to work, the same old routine, Reveille formations and SNAFU.
Aug. 12
Ditto
Aug. 13
Sat. moved from one hut to another, the whole camp looked like an ant hill kicked bu=y
a passing boot. Swarming with beds, and barracks, boys sweating in the early morning
sun, grabbing choice spots and staking claim, around 11 o’clock order suddenly evolves
from confusion and at 11:30 the mess line was as long as usual. Someone heard an Army
travels on its stomach, this bunch sure must aim to travel. To the little tavern in the
village this evening. Sat on the old bench in front old the pub and sipped a brew. Still
twilight at ten thirty, when we mounted the hill for camp, stopped to chat with the Sgt. of
the Guard, a tanned old farmer came by and joined us, presented us each with two tiny
apples, the first of the season, no bigger than our crab apples, they were very sweet and
pink fleshed, first time I have seen as apple out of a can in many a moon. The score was
more than paid by a “stick of gum.”
Aug. 14
Monday my most hated day, if a vote were taken for a removal of a day Monday would
be it. Tonight however am leaving on pass for Exeter. Gil was going but at the last
moment has to stick around for a showdown inspection. Out in a rush, a cold shower to
pep me up, a “K” ration in my field jacket. – The train was on time – worth a line
anytime. – Exeter at 7:15 The Red Cross, really beautiful, but what a hill to tackle in hot
weather. Jerry Deranek, John Thomas & myself ended u p in a room by ourselves,
cleaned up and headed for town. The Shippes Inn was closed, unfortunately, went to the
men’s bar in the Queens Hotel, met a couple of lads, had met last week, a British soldier,
Pat a young navy boy from Minn. and a yank from Ind. With Jerry & a civilian went to
the St. Clarence Hotel, old reserved and dignified as a dowager, it nevertheless was fun.
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Had our first drink with ice since being overseas. “A Davis Cup” rum, lemon & lime &
ice Good!
Back to the Red Cross, after taking care of the wee sailor boy who had a little too much
to drink I’m afraid.
Aug. 15
Awakened at 9:00 by the removal of the blackout blinds by two buxom ladies. They
hopped in & out like hoptoads with the hives. Every time we started to crawl out of our
bunks, they popped in, after three starts from the protection of the sheets we all said
“what the hell! If they aren’t embarrassed we are not.” Sure nuff’ they came brushing in,
and we as nonchalantly brushed out in our shorts. Privacy – what is that.
Breakfast at 10:00. Food definitely rationed here. Gruel with corn syrup & thin milk a
piece of toast, a tiny piece of salt pork, a wee half of grilled tomato and a cup of carofee
[?]. to town to see what we could see, stopped by for a visit with the barmaid at the
Clarence and another “Davis Cup”, frankly it was the lure of the ice cubes which called.
Most of the substantial business men of the town were there for the noontime gin &
bitters. Outside the sun was brilliant, but here the old beamed room, filled with old prints,
wooden gargoyles, pewter tankards and old scabbards, with the light filtering thru the
leaded bay windows, it was cool. Here we stayed till nearly tram time. Train was to leave
at 1:30 pulled in at 3:00 and then we waited at the station for a quarter of an hour, stood
all the way to Okehampton down thru the town drowning in the August heat., fortunately
grubbed a likt back to camp were in time. The deadline was 6:00 o’clock. A good time
hope I have a chance for one more before pulling anchor from these parts.
Aug. 16
An inspecting Officer checking the camp to-day everyone in a lather. The place looks
clean, but it will take a couple of days to dig out things from their hiding places, if we
had rugs we most likely would find it easier to sweep things under em’. Its clouding for
rain, maybe I can get caught up on some mail to-day. Sgt. of the Guard to-morrow am not
looking forward to it particularly. See you then.
Aug. 17th
Regular details till 3:00 in the afternoon, then dressed for the Gd. duty. Early chow
drew my gun and reported to Guard House, relieved Mort Blaustein, had a nice bunch of
lads, fortunately are informal guard mount at 5:20 we lowered “Old Glory” quiet until
around 11:30 when John Lancaster called from Motor Pool. A word about it. Far back in
the woods is a beautiful estate with huge barns, here our vehicles and here our Dispatcher
parks his cot. Arrived there to find the lady of the House and an elderly lady in a state of
excitement. Seems someone had broken into the house and so we made a complete search
of the house. Perfectly huge the lights of our flashlight were lost in the shadows as we
made the rounds of every room in the rambling wings, looked under beds, behind
screens, in the wine cellar, the bachelor quarters the upstairs den, the downstairs bath,
running all the bolts and latched all the windows, awakened the frightened evacuee
children there from London, and finally left with a promise that the guard from the Motor
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Pool would include the house in his tour, left him with instructions to whistle a tune when
passing under the window of the lady of the house. No other incidents.
Aug. 18th
Spent the day in the Gd. hut till tour of duty ended at 4:30, caught up on some mail, did
some laundry turned in early.
Aug. 19th
Day off after Gd. Mount spent most of it marking clothes preparatory to our next step.
Its France we are Reasonably sure.
Aug. 20th
Sunday, extra sleep always welcome. The radio mobile teams are alerted with a six hour
deadline. At 1:30 this afternoon a meeting of the Company. Yep! Its France, warned
against U.D. overpaying avoiding milk, etc. etc. An amusing incident to note. The
Captain in the course of his instructions, suggested that a blitsy course on French might
be a good idea and we were fortunate in having a professor from the University of
Michigan, School of Languages and asked him to stand, there was a silence, much
craning of necks, and then up piped someone “Sir, he is on K.P.” Ain’t that the Army for
you?
At 4:30 picked up our passes. Bruce Johnston and myself to head for Tavistock. It was
grand out, a lazy hazy summer day, peace and rural quiet personified. We walked thru the
winding lanes, the sides banked with hedgerows, covered with an abundance of
blackberries, by the time we reached the main Road our fingers were purple with their
juice. It wasn’t long after that we had gotten on the road leading thru the moors that storm
clouds started to pile upon the horizon, we eyed the black masses cross hatched with
summer lightning with some apprehension for there was no shelter in sight, fortunately an
A.R.C. car came over the nearest hill, slithered to a stop and we piled in, arrived in
Tavistock just as the first drops fell. The Red Cross Club like so many converted to our
use, was an old Inn, the dining room windows overlooked the rooftops of the town and
the quaint old square. After supper we walked down the crooked streets, still shining
from the shower and listened to the Salvation Army organ and its choiristers [sic.].
Around 9:00 the tap room of the ancient Queens Head Hotel opened its doors for ½ hr,
we managed to get a glass of cider and in the washed dusk returned to the Red Cross, a
cup of coffee, piled into the truck and back to camp.
Aug. 21st
Everything happens to me. When we left Ireland we were supposed to have no further
need for Jeep hats, nor ties, reluctantly gave away all but one of each and felt quite
superior when on arriving found they were authorized to be worn. Fearing they would
prove equally attractive to some other ls. I washed then and spread them in a nearby
wheatfield. To-day went out to gather them up, but the wheatfield was no more. The
thrasher had beat me to it and instead of a waving field of wheat, neat sheaves speckled
the field. Should I tear open the sheaves, or mark it off to experience. I guess experience
wins.
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Aug. 22nd
It’s France beyond question at the 11:30 formation Lt. Ash called me out for a detail.
This was the tip-off. We gathered up the dues money L to Francs, we all are hoping to
leave soon, perhaps this weekend. In preparation we are cleaning weapons, stenciling
duffel bags, washing clothes, making up shortages, etc. etc.
Around 4:30 this morning Bob King, wakened me gently to say goodbye. He has
charge of our Mobil Radio teams and they were off. When will our paths cross again? I
listened to their cars warm up, roar into life, and the faint rumble as they turned out the
main gate into the quiet country road heading to Bridestowe and the channel ports.
Aug. 23rd
Johnnie Lunearter?, dispatcher at the Motor Pool relayed an invitation for dinner to be
given by Mrs. Chadwick, whom I had last seen when on Sgt. of the Gd. I accepted with
pleasure and am looking forward to it with pleasure.
Aug. 24th
The place is bursting in a last minute rush. The washroom is filled with scrubwomen
(G.I.) dogfaces in fatigues, there are more clotheslines stretched between huts than a
tenement district. Enterprising soldiers who can dodge details are coining? shillings in the
laundry business. The weather has been grand and we all hope it stays that way.
Aug. 25th
To-day spent most of the day converting English money, previously handed in, to
Francs. It is going to be easier to master this money. The fifty francpiece or note is a
beautiful note. Will have to try to hold on to one. Ran out of small notes so had to take a
run into Plymouth. It was my first trip there, and even tho’ we only skirted the outskirts it
was easy to see what a pasting the town had taken. Here the rows of villas are punctured
with the fire scarred skeleton of a home. Here a gutted church or a pile of charred
masonery [sic.] all mute evidence of war as suffered by England in the past four
frightening years. Missed dinner so stopped on the way at Tavistock Red Cross for
sandwiches & coffee.
Aug. 26th
Decided to give my conscience something to worry about, so instead of hanging around
for a possible detail, piled into a Jeep with four others to travel to Tavistock for “The
Stars & Stripes” at the Red Cross. Gil Roswell Mike Chayin, Bart Looby Warren Harrell
and myself. Of course we had to have our morning tea and of course had to get back to
camp before our absence was noted, both done in the afternoon, encouraged by the
morning jaunt & being caught up with all personal stuff went into Plymouth with Jerry
Mc Parland & Jackie have to have a radiator in the Jeep repaired. Jerry believes in flying
low and we made the trip in quick time, not god on these English roads. This time went
thru the heart of the city and saw how tremendous the bomb damage was whole blocks
were leveled houses were gutted and churches were tumbled blocks of jagged stone, the
empty windows staring blindly out over the harbor, knowing we were going to miss
supper went to the Red Cross pooled our money and had Just enough lacking three pence,
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this we begged from a sailor back to camp 28 minutes flight time for a trip that at a good
clip should take 45 minutes.
Aug. 27th
Suwnday again, wanted to sleep late but had to rout out a detail. Most of the boys had
taken off but scared up four finally. More washing in the afternoon and a wrestling match
with my gun. A movie and time for our letters at the N.A.A. F.1 [?]
Aug. 28th
We are leaving this peaceful hamlet to-morrow. The motor convoy is scheduled to
leave at 2:30 in the morning and we leave [one hour]? later. Mrs. Chadwick the lady of
“Learwood ? House” invited a few of us down this evening. Really a grand person, the
maid set the fire in the drawing room fireplace, with the drapes drawn and our field
Jackets on were quite comfortable. Listened to the nine o’clock news from London it
continues wonderful, a news sketch on “Paris liberated” was most interesting, sitting in
front of the fire we sipped our drinks and discussed everything babies to buzzing ?
bombs. It was nearly twelve when we left. Don’t particularly look forward to 2:30
tomorrow.
Aug. 29th
This is it. At 2:30 the boys in the motor company were up and around, so use trying to
sleep so up, packed our blankets and headed for the mess hall. Shaved by flashlight and
after that lay around till 6:20 when we fell out and marched to Bridestowe station in a
nice drizzly rain. Of course the train was late and we sat around, miserable and mean, no
sleep no nuttin!
Writing this on the train, which is leaking like a sieve, Just finished a “K” ration and am
ready for a cigarette. Looks like we are heading for Southhampton [sic.] hope we won’t
stay in a marshalling area too long, no[w] that we are underway, everyone wants to get
over to France and get on some sort of a Job. Time for that cigarette.
Aug. 30th
South Hampton is was. Trucks with trailers picked us up and we were driven to the
Marshalling camp. A good way from town, the tents are set in a huge grove of trees. Hot
water for coffee and a “K” ration for supper. We were given our additional “K” rations
[3], our DDT powder, our heat? unit and our purifying tablets for water. Were supposed
to have a show, it was to be held in a tent with log uprights for seats, about 50 ft. of film
was run off and then the machine went on the blitz, so back to our tents. Turned in at
7:30, rumor has it we are leaving at 3 in the morning, and rumors have a disturbing way
of coming true. The blankets aren’t particularly clean, guess I will sleep Full field.
Aug. 31st
Turned out of our bunks, at 6:10. Forgot to mention that after leaving the Marshalling
Area we were driven by motor convoy to the P.O.E., the remainder of the company in the
Vehicle Party had already embarked on LST and about 4:00 we boarded LCI No. 512
[Landing Craft Infantry] Back to this morning we were under way about three hours we
turned around and headed back to anchor off Portsmouth harbor. Wireless reports relayed
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the news that the Channel was acting up and our craft would not be able to weather it. A
number of the boys had to press their [vomit bags] into service. Missed breakfast, not
because I was sick but waited too long below decks rather than “sweat out” a line. The
“head” navy for “John” is in the forward bow and one needs be a combination gymnast
and centipede to manage a wash.
Chow at 3:30, a piece of cheese, some crackers a cup of coffee, eaten on deck helped a
little but am really hungry at this point. Am writing this on deck. The harbor is crowded
with vessels of every type. From ships at anchor barrage ballons [sic.] are poised against
the blue sky and the arc of them carries into shore and over the rooftops of Portsmouth.
(Ed. Note: Barrage balloons provided defense against the German bombers, causing them
to fly at higher altitudes with less accuracy. A barrage balloon. was about as large as a
cricket pitch, 18 m. x 7.6 m. and was partly filled with hydrogen)
Sept. 1st
About 0900 hrs. anchor was hauled in and we were on our way, out of the harbor past
the Isle of Wight and soon the white cliffs of England faded into the low hanging clouds.
The channel was a mass of pistachio mounds of sea flecked with spiary?. Gruel & pork
for breakfast, only had a little but in combination with the sea was too much for me. Just
made deck and tossed my cookies. Stayed on deck and felt marvelous the rest of the trip.
(This is Normandy rain that blotted this page). Around 1600 we sighted the continent and
about 1800 pulled into the harbor designated as Utah on “D” day. It was packed with
boats of all descriptions and here and there in the harbor were sunken ships, casualties
from “D” day. Had to wait for the tide to come in so that our flat bottom craft could pull
up on shore. Had our first hot meal. Cabbage & corned beef corn and coffee. Packed our
gear and tumbled into our cots around ten as we were scheduled to disembark around
1200. Awoke around six by a sudden lurch, our boat had scraped the sands of France.
Around 7:30 we disembarked. Gosh! Here tis’ Sept 2nd.
Sept. 2nd
The shore on which we landed was a long oval of beach, huge dunes backed up the
beach and here we saw the first of the German defenses - the bases of the dunes were
faced with concrete walls topped by barbed wire, in front of there we ate our “K” rations.
A half hour later we set out on our hike to where we did not know. Behind the dunes
were flat stretches of swampy pasture, dotted with tall gaunt poplars. The road which we
followed was ankle deep in mud slippery and sticky, made a mire by the rain which
started shortly after we finished breakfast. On the sides were warnings that only the road
was cleared of mines, cleared only to the ditches which flanked each side. Here & there
were German signs with the death heads warning against mines, further on shell craters
were seen. We passed thru a tiny town, deserted as far as we could see except for one old
man. Back from the coast now the land rose in gentle hills with apple orchards in neat
rows, thru these we marched and nearly two hours after we left the shore we came to a
pasture filled with other G.I.s resting and ready to take off to different parts. In an open
field we rested until nearly twelve when we again donned our packs and marched to
another area. Here we were told we are going to Brittany. Am writing this perched
against a hedgerow around me the fellows are sleeping in the warm late summer sun,
others have started fires, others are eating, a favorite pastime, and I am hoping that the
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Capt. Will be able to dig up our vehicle party so we can get under way otherwise we need
bivouac in this area and we have no shelter halfs ? or blankets and the nights are cold.
Sept. 3rd
Our duffle bags are brought up from the beach late in the afternoon and we set up pour
pup tents. We are bivouwaced [sic.] in a broad green pasture hemmed in with hedges.
The weather is very changeable, wind & sunshine, showers & squalls. We browse around
and before long the edges of our camp area is beaded with tiny fires as other G.I.s start
boiling water, heating C rations and readying their evening meal. Darkness comes fairly
early and a full moon drifts over the poplars. All evening long planes drone overhead and
we curl up in our blankets, lulled by the drone of their engines.
Sept. 4th
Up early, no reveille but the cold was more effective as an alarm clock. We made
breakfast later, there was water call, had to march nearly two miles to fill our canteens.
All around us are other camp areas some devoted to soldiers of the French Army, in
others German P. W.s.
Managed to get our helmets filled and enjoyed the luxury of a good wash. Quite a
knack to getting bathed from a helmet full of water, but it was done.
Have lost a day somewhere but yesterday afternoon we went to a U.S.O. show sat in an
amphitheatre of grassy hillside, a Juggler from San Francisco, a dancer from Chicago, a
M.C. from Newark and a sprinkling of double entendre made up the acts. Back to to-day.
Labor Day. Early in the morning we were told to pack. An hour and a half later our
convoy was under way. A beautiful day and the countryside thru which we traveled was
picturesque for a few short miles and then evidence of wars grim step became apparent.
We passed thru towns, which only a few brief weeks ago, were headlined in the
newspapers of the world. Carenton, Saint Lo, Periers masses of jagged masonary [sic.],
gutted stores and homes, tumbled rubble, only the streets giving testimony that once these
were a busy town where people worked and were happy in the quiet pursuit of a
peaceable livelihood. Now these same towns were haunted by a few very old people, with
ragged children looking on in apathy as the convoy thundered thru. From here, at
Carentan, and for most of the remainder of our journey to our destination, Rennes, the
evidence of war’s passage was everywhere. Along the roads, burned out tanks,
overturned cars. In the orchards were shell holes from heavy artillery, bridges blown up,
with newly placed spans put in place by U.S. Engineers, signs warning that that the road
was cleared only to its edges of mines, farmhouses spotted with bullet holes or razed by
fire. Some towns which had been by-passed were intact and others completely ruined
where the fighting had been bitter.
We went via Briene [sic. Brienne] and from this particular road we able to see in the
distance the famed Mont St. Michel. From all accounts this is one of Frances [sic] most
famous monuments, and in the distance it seemed like a misty painting hung against the
soft blue backdrop of the summer sky.
We arrived in Rennes around 7:30, a large modern city and as far as possible to discern
it had not suffered any damage. People hung out from every window cheering and
volubly spouting French. We were held up here and were able to hop off the trucks and
buy some sweet cider and sour bread. Around 8:15 we landed at our camp site, another
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green pasture with hedgerow edges, had just about time to pitch our pup tents, open a K
ration and turn in. Was so tired turned in without washing. Couldn’t have at any rate, no
water. Sure am learning the value of that precious commodity more & more.
Sept. 5
Troy Howard, bless him had left a helmet full of soapy water out and it didn’t take me
long to take advantage of this second hand wash water. On awakening Dug a fire trench
in the hedgerow, started a fire and soon had some water boiling. By the time breakfast
was eaten, blankets aired and things straightened out the morning was well along. Some
tiny French tots wondered into camp in clean patched pinafores with bags of tomatoes.
By dint of much gesticulations and some halting French we managed to barter some
sugar cubes for tomatoes. They were good. Late in the afternoon the listern? bags were
filled for drinking but still no washing water. A couple of lads did a little scouting and
found a canal nearby. After supper we headed there and tho the water was slightly
brackish, sure enjoyed a good wash, back thru the orchards pitted with slit trenches
tightened our tents, made our sacks and turned in, dreams were sweet for we had heard a
rumor the Americans were in Germany, could be the war will be over soon.
Sept. 6
Still here, the rumors have it we will move into town. Around 2:30 were ordered to get
ready for an inspection, some Colonel. Much grousing hard enough to live under field
condition without the added imposition of inspections which serve no purpose. Much
rushing, many heated words. Result, as so often the case no colonel showed up. Damn his
hide. Tonight got the go ahead on writing first letters since leaving England.
Sept. 7th, 8th, 9th & 10th
Moved into Rennes this town being about 3 miles distant from our campsites. It is really
a fairly large city, earlier mentioned that it seemed to have escaped damage, but will take
that back. Certain sections of the town have been leveled, especially in the vicinity of the
railroad station where we are to be billeted. Our billets is a huge building, formerly
having German troops its condition did not speak well for the organization or cleanliness
of the “supermen”. Two days prior to moving we had large details cleaning the place,but
arrival still found much work to be done. Washing & sanitary conditions abominable, by
good fortune, along with five others got a room on the fifth floor, with a marvelous view
of the town, however, as we are directly adjacent tp the Officers Qtrs. it has its
drawbacks, we most likely will be moved after we get it livable. Four large windows and
two or three holes, where flack & flying debris have pierced the walls, otherwise, not
bad.
Sept. 11th
To-day in the midst of trying to wash clothes told to report to B.B.S. (Brittany Base
Sector) Hg. I am the Signal Officer, start regular shift at 800 tomorrow working in Crypt
Room seems like it might be a good deal.
12
Sept. 12th
Back to duty to-day. not a bad set-up. Lt. Goldsbury seems like a very nice guy. The
Hq. like most of them is loaded with brass, colonels by the gross, very G.I. Expected to
get passes this evening. Town declared off limits, but our return to billets was greeted
with the news that we were restricted.
Sept. 13th
Another day neared victory. Eating at Hq. mess for our noonday meal, it feeds nearly
2500 men, those at Hq. and a lot of transients from all over Brittany and elsewhere in
France – result very cosmopolitan men of the F.F.I (French Force of the Interior) men
from Belgium, R.A.F. etc. etc. This evening got a pass, left directly after supper for the
pass is only good until 10:30. Mort, Louis Riva [Rina?], Ken Jones & myself after weeks
of etualoins we decided to cut loose more or less. Wandered thru the crooked streets we
saying Bonjour to the people, they in turn saying “Allo” to us went to a café by name The
American Café”, here we decided to sample everything a glass of beer, a pony of
cognac, a glass of champagne and finally an “aperitif” concocted by the owner (a shrewd
Frenchman who spoke English quite fluently had been in the states or Coty the perfumer
for some years.) The sequence & combination may sound weird but it was all taken in a
leisurely fashion and we suffered no ill effects. It was still dark when we left and I
decided to do a little exploring, the others went to the Red Cross. Thru crooked old
streets, whose shops mostly were shuttered I strolled, finally saw a shop with a beautiful
carved wooden statue of the Virgin, the shop appeared empty but was just turning away
when a little old French lady popped out. Still don’t know how but I found myself in the
shop, very dimly lit, mostly china, but I did not have much opportunity to gaze for she
was snowing me under with a torrent of French, asked her for the price of the statue,
3,000 Francs. Even for the supposedly “rich Americans” “trop expensive” however, we
have a date for next week, she is going to teach me to speak French or so she says, if she
ever slows down, perhaps yes. Back to camp on the road skirting the canal here in the
daytime the women scrub their clothes but tonight the water was black velvet studded
with stars, only the guant [sic. gaunt] ribs of blasted bridges tearing the fabric of the main
crossings. The Captain was at the gate on my return. Fortunately I was early. Wonder if
he nailed anyone? Received a letter from R.R.M. to-day. in Italy, safe & well thank “le
bon dieu”.
Sept. 14th
We are supposed to march in formation back from dinner. Mort & I usually walk about
3three additional blocks to dodge this idiotic brainstorm. Tonight went out with Howard?
& Hinck to a marble shower unit. Can’t tell if I am cleaner now than I was before, for the
water which they were pumping from the stream was definitely stagnant and smelled to
high heaven, at least we try to stay clean.