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“Old soldiers dream of old battles, because, with the sliding of years, memory of terror fades, and what remains is the fond recollection of intensified life, of moments so electric, so bursting that everything after is thin porridge.†Too true! But even amidst the thin porridge, there exist less frequent , less electric moments, which make a sufficient impression to last a lifetime.

I was discharged from the Army in late January 1946 with the rank of Captain, after 3 years of service, 2 years overseas, and 14 months of Infantry Combat in Italy, France and Germany. Well, not discharged, exactly, but rather transferred to the inactive reserve. I had volunteered twice for the Army, once through the ROTC and once through OCS. I had received my BS degree from Rutgers in June 1943, 2 weeks before reporting for active duty. I was now married, age 25, and anxious to begin my civilian career and put the War behind me.

My Regimental CO urged me to stay in the Army. Things are tough on the outside! But Occupation Duty in Germany had thoroughly soured me on the peacetime Army. I had received my BS degree from Rutgers in June 1943, I was now married, age 25, and I had done my patriotic duty, more than most. Staying in the Army held no appeal for me.

After 2 weeks of R & R at home, I visited the Rutgers Personnel Office to solicit job leads, but first, I stopped at the ROTC office to see if there was anybody still there that I knew. I was greeted warmly by Major Cope, my instructor for 3rd and 4th year ROTC. I remembered his 2 favorite expressions, “The Infantry is the Queen of Battles†and “Only in the Infantry, do you have the opportunity to close with the enemy!†He hurried to take off my overcoat so that he could see my “fruit saladâ€, his WWI expression for ribbons, medals and awards, He was suitably impressed. One would think he had earned them himself!†And then he said, “Did you know that Schweiker and Everett “went westâ€? His WWI expression for KIA.

Yes Major Cope, 11 of my 20 Rutgers ROTC-Infantry OCS classmates were KIA. And then I did a despicable thing in view of his middle age. I said, “But I see you are still here “closing with the enemyâ€. He made no reply. Despicable as it was, I have never regretted saying it. We were lambs led to the slaughter by someone who knew better. The KIAs were class leaders and future leaders of our nation! Phi Beta Kappas, fraternity presidents, all-American athletes, yearbook editors, members of Student Council and other honorary societies. These men did not belong in the Infantry! But no knowledgeable person had stood up to counsel them in their naivety. In my opinion , he performed a disservice not only to his students, but to his country!

I went next to the College Personnel Office where I was greeted warmly by the people for whom I had worked part time in my student years. They gave me several leads and I was interviewed and went to work as an engineer for the Curtiss-Wright Corp.

I was the 1st veteran hired by the Curtiss-Wright Engineering Department. I started work on February 29, 1946. The 10 or 12 engineers in my department had all been there (deferred) throughout the War. The atmosphere in the office was strained. They didn’t know how to deal with the situation. They knew I had been an Infantry captain with a lot of combat experience, but they didn’t know what that meant. They, in turn, had avoided the draft through occupational deferments. If asked, they would have said that, given their background, they had served their country in the best possible way. But nobody asked. Samuel Johnson put it this way. “Every man thinks meanly of himself for not having been a soldier.†And I might add, “particularly when in the presence of one who has.â€

During my employment interview, I had been asked to explain what, if anything, in my military experience might apply to my civilian career. I think he was laying a foundation for the salary discussion, was thinking of Infantry tactics, skill with infantry weapons, and their inapplicability to civilian life. My response, instead., related to training and extensive leadership. At Infantry OCS, we were taught to lead by example, how to earn rather than demand respect. How to have subordinates follow orders with enthusiasm out of confidence in our ability and trust in our knowledge, rather than fear of disciplinary action. I had led men in situations involving life or death decisions. I expressed confidence that I could do at least as well in this far less hostile environment.

On the technical side, I was a fast learner and soon impressed my peers and seniors with my ability to focus on the important to to draw timely, meaningful, and practical solutions to technical problems. As an example, the engineers in my department had been working for a year on a problem with “transfer ring assemblies†They were called “pineapples.†Their function was to transmit electrical data signals from strain gages on a rotating aircraft propeller to a stationary recorder. The problem was that brush wear caused leakage paths between the rotating silver rings. They had tried different brush materials, different lubricants on the rings, and other fixes, but nothing worked. I saw the solution immediately! Cut a slot in the bottom of the cylindrical brush housing and the carbon dust will fall out. This change increased the TBO (time between overhaul) by a factor of 10. My stock soared!

On the leadership side, I quickly rose above the crowd. The office environment was not unlike the barnyard or the jungle. Males, subconsciously or otherwise, worked hard at establishing a “pecking order.†My military experience had taught me to earn rather than to demand respect. It gave me a decided edge and contemporaries were soon seeking my approval.

The bullpen in which I worked housed about a dozen engineers, all of whom had been there, draft deferred, throughout the War. In the post-war lull, bull sessions were not uncommon. The draft deferred engineers would move their castored chairs into a circle and discuss current events. One such incident contributed substantially to my upward move in the pecking order.

One of the less popular engineers, (draft dodgers), held the floor in a discussion of the Russian’s early Cold War actions in Eastern Europe. “We shouldn’t be letting them get away with that!†he whined. We should never have brought our Army home from Europe. After beating the Germans, we should have pressed on and driven the Russians back to Siberia while we still had the Army there to do it!â€

As he spoke, my mind recalled the terror and loneliness of almost two years of infantry combat. A parade of names and faces came to mind, comrades and classmates KIA. Lts. Brown, Moeglin, Petropolis, Schweiker, Everett, Potzer, Hutcheon, Stavros, Dupuis and many more. Their faces looked anxiously at me to see what I was going to do about this “blowhardâ€. In a partially controlled rage, I rose and waded into the circle of chairs. I lapsed into the language of an army sergeant.

“You SOB! Who are you to mouth off like that in total ignorance on something you know nothing about! You sat on your cowardly ass in this office throughout the War while I and others like me were fighting and dying for our country! If you want to fight the Russians, drag your fat ass to the nearest recruiting station and share your wisdom with them. They will be glad to see you! So will the Russians and they’ll whip your ass just like they did the Germans! You go! I just got back! In the meantime, you will keep your GD mouth shut.â€

As I spoke, I leaned forward crowding him. He sat in an all wood swivel arm chair with castors and a reclining back. As I advanced, he backpedaled away in his chair. The floor was concrete covered with vinyl tile. As he rolled backward, his castors hung up on the steel cove molding covering the telephone line on the floor. His chair reclined and he went over backwards. Terrified, he lay there on his back in the wreckage, his feet in the air, and his hands in a death grip on the chair’s broken arms.

He looked utterly ridiculous. From across the room came the query, “Did Cloer finally hit him?†And the response, “Naah! He fell out of his chair.†I turned and left the room. I think I saw a vision come back and 3 of the KIAs gave me a thumbs up signal! It wasn’t long after that , that the draft dodger left the company.

A few months later, a second incident occurred. I came to work in the morning to find my desk and chair missing. I was greeted by an empty space where my desk had been and my telephone sat on the floor. I was obviously being tested and I knew the outcome would be important to my future status in the office. The draft dodgers gave the appearance of diligent attention to their work. I could have started to search for my desk. I could have threatened them. I could have complained to the boss. All of which these idiots expected, based on past performance with other victims. I did none of these.

Without a word, I sat down at an empty desk and began to browse through a copy of the NY Daily News which one of the draftsman brought in each morning. Nothing happened for about 15 minutes and then the boss wandered into the bullpen and saw me reading the newspaper. Even he didn’t have the guts to confront me head-on.

“How is your project progressing, Russ?â€

“Just fine, Bob. There could be some delay, however, since my desk seems to be missing.â€

“Have you looked for it?

“No Bob, I haven’t. I don’t feel any responsibility to look for it. As I see it, that responsibility lies with whoever moved it out of the office.â€

“Can’t you work at an empty desk?â€

“I would Bob, but all my work is locked up in the missing desk.â€

“Can’t you work on something else in the meantime?â€

“I would, Bob, but my reading glasses are locked in the missing desk and I can’t do any close work without them. In the meantime, I am just looking at the Daily News headlines and pictures.â€

“I see.†What else could he say? He had to be PO’d at the boy pranksters who had put him in this awkward situation. He retreated to his office.

A few minutes later, his secretary entered the bullpen, walked up to the senior draft dodger and said, “John, Mr. Froling would like to see you in his office.â€

I paid no overt attention, but thought this is a good time for me to disappear for awhile. I returned the Daily News to its owner and said, “I’ll be down in the lab for about a half hour. I want to check on a test they are running for me.†The dummies were now faced with the boss who they had put in an awkward situation. Good! Let them suffer!

In the lab, I had a cup of coffee and chatted with the lab techs to kill a half hour. I returned to my office to find my desk, chair and telephone in their normal place. I sat down, unlocked the desk, removed my papers, put on my reading glasses and went to work. Not a word was spoken then or later about the missing desk! I had clearly won that little skirmish before a capacity crowd.

Some months later, a second veteran was hired in my department. He had been an Air Force Major (Administrative). I sized him up and judged him to be a complete axxhole. He with a couple of file clerks and was responsible for time cards, labor distribution cards, and other such non-productive paper-pushing. I didn’t like him, but I tolerated him in the interest of peace and harmony. He in turn, felt a need to demonstrate his former rank. He irritated me particularly by wearing his Air Force uniform and insignia to work on the days when he claimed to have an evening Reserve meeting.

One such day, he came strutting down the aisle in front of my desk (in uniform) and as he passed my desk, without a word, he deliberately brushed 3 rolls of oscillograph paper from my desk to my lap, said nothing, and kept walking. I reflexively grabbed one of the 2 lb. rolls as I would a football and threw a perfect pass which hit him squarely in the back of the neck as he reached the doorway 10 to 15 feet away. He staggered, turned, and said petulantly, “What did you do that for!â€

I replied coldly, “Don’t you ever touch anything on my desk again.†In the Army, leaning on or even touching another person’s desk was not tolerated. He and I were the only people in the room who knew that. He, too, left the company shortly thereafter.

My status in the “pecking order†was now firmly established and I was promoted to the title of Assistant Project Engineer. I was moved into a separate office with 2 other APE’s. We called it the Ape House.

One day, I heard unusual laughter and hilarity from an adjacent bullpen occupied by Engineering Assistants, young women with degrees in math or science, hired during the War, to perform some of the more routine engineering work.

One of my fellow engineers entered and I said, “Hey George, what’s with all the partying in the Analysis Room?†“Ohâ€, he said, “One of the girls who worked here during the War came in for a visit and they’re reminiscing about old times. Her name is Clarissa Rahill.â€

I was suddenly very attentive. I had an Army buddy named John Rahill and he was from Caldwell, N.J. where I was now working. We met at Ft. Meade, both infantry replacement officers, part of a shipment of 5,000 replacements headed for Italy. We became quite close in that impersonal mob, because we were both from N.J. and had similar backgrounds. We shared the same cabin on the troop transport, the same pyramidal tents at Repple Depples in Casablanca, Oran and Naples, illegally broke out and toured Casablanca, and Pompei together, shared the same 40 and 8 crossing the Sahara Desert, and were separated forever when I was assigned to the 7th Infantry on the Anzio Beachhead in Italy. Wouldn’t it be great to see him again and compare experiences over the 2 years following our separation?

“Does she have a brother named John Rahillâ€, I asked?

After a pause, he said, “She did, but he was killed in action in Italy. Did you know him?â€

I was stunned! I should not have been surprised to hear that he had been KIA, but the War was over, the killing had stopped, and this was NOW! This information was mind boggling! George was perceptive and realized what was happening to me. After a further pause, he said softly, “Would you like me to introduce you?â€

My mind raced. What can I tell her! I wasn’t with him when he died. I don’t know where or how he died. Those are the things she would want to know. She is enjoying this moment of happiness. Why dredge up those painful memories of his death, which time has healed, at least in part.

And I said, “No George. Let it rest.†He understood and never mentioned it again. But I wonder to this day if I did the right thing?

Russ Cloer

53rd Transportation Battalion

World War II

In preparation for the July 1943 invasion of Sicily, the amphibious 2 ½-ton truck, known as the DUKW, became available. General Dwight D. Eisenhower considered it, not the Higgins boat, “one of the most valuable pieces of equipment produced by the United States during the war.†He created an amphibious truck battalion out of forces already in North Africa. On 28 May 1943, the 53rd Quartermaster Truck Battalion was constituted in the US Army. It was activated on 22 June 1943 in French Morocco, North Africa, and served in the Tunisia Campaign with personnel and equipment from the previously organized 2637th Quartermaster Truck Battalion (Provisional). It had four lettered companies, “A†through “D.â€

The 53rd Battalion initially received 109 DUKWs and became the first amphibious battalion just in time for the amphibious assault on Sicily. The 53rd Battalion was attached to the 531st Engineer Shore Regiment, 1st Engineer Special Brigade (ESB). By doctrine, each Engineer Special Brigade had one landing craft and one amphibious truck (DUKW) battalion attached to it. The 53rd Quartermaster Battalion subsequently provided the DUKWs for all the landings in the Mediterranean. At Sicily on 9 July 1943, it hauled Rangers forward in night assaults and supplied advancing units until trucks were available. This was the first amphibious landing conducted with DUKWs. The beaches along the Sicilian coast had shallow gradients and sand bars that made landings by amphibians more preferable than landing craft, however, there were not many good beach exits for trucks and DUKWs. The battalion then established the beach dumps, towed guns into firing position.

From then on the US Navy assumed control of the beach landings in the Mediterranean, freeing the 1st ESB to prepare for the Normandy invasion. For that reason, the battalion (minus A Company) was attached to the 36th Infantry Division and landed at Salerno, Italy, on 9 September. The planners determined that the battalion needed 400 DUKWs to sustain the large landing force. By that time the battalion had six DUKW companies attached to it. The battalion assigned 60 DUKWs to land with the artillery pieces and ammunition right behind the assault wave. Because of the difficulty of the infantry to clear the beach, the DUKWs circled out of range of the enemy weapons longer than anticipated. After waiting thirty minutes at Green Beach, the US Navy signaled the DUKWs to go ashore in spite of enemy fire. 30 DUKWs followed the directive but smoke on the shore obscured the land marks making it difficult for the drivers to find their exact landing spot. While the 60 DUKWs circled off Yellow and Blue Beaches, the beach master at Red Beach signaled them to land at his beach. As many as 125 DUKWs ended up circling off shore at Red Beach. They landed sporadically. One DUKW was rammed and sank with a 105mm howitzer and its ammunition. The crew swam to another DUKW and boarded it.

After the initial landings, the 53rd Battalion delivered tanks, heavy weapons and anti-tank pieces with ammunition. From 9 September through 1 October, the amphibians hauled cargo across the beaches until the port of Naples was secure. Then as many as 600 DUKWs conducted ship-to-shore missions at Naples.

To take pressure off of the planned landing at Anzio, the 5th Infantry Division conducted a crossing on the Garigliano River on the night of 17-18 January 1944. DUKWs of the 53rd Battalion ferried two battalions of infantry across near the mouth of the river in assault boats, one battalion crossed in DUKWs and landing craft at the mouth of the river. Only the DUKWs landed at the right location but the troops found themselves in a mine field.

During the rehearsal for the landing for Anzio, 40 DUKWs were lost at sea near Naples. On 22 January 1944, the 53rd Battalion participated in the first assault wave on Anzio. Despite heavy and continuos shelling and strafing, the battalion established a record in the amount of tonnage unloaded. With between 450 and 490 DUKWs, the 53rd Battalion brought the cargo from the Liberty ships, anchored off shore, over the beach. The 540th Engineers, under the command of COL George W. Marvin, assumed control over the operation of the port and beaches.

On 22 May 1944, the Headquarters and Headquarters Detachment was redesignated HHD, 53rd Quartermaster Battalion (Mobile) and its companies, A through D, were redesignated the 3337th, 3338th, 3339th and 3340th and followed their separate lineages. Essentially, the battalion headquarters could provide administrative and operational control over any number of companies.

The battalion also participated in the Rome-Arno, Rhineland and Central Europe Campaigns. In Germany it hauled supplies across the Rhine River. On 12 November 1945, the battalion was inactivated in Germany.

The 53rd Quartermaster Battalion received campaign streamers for Tunisia, Sicily (with arrowhead for spearheading an amphibious landing), Naples-Foggia (with arrowhead), Anzio (with arrowhead), Rome-Arno, Southern France (with arrowhead), Rhineland and Central Europe. It may be the only Quartermaster and later transportation Corps battalion ot have earned four arrowheads for amphibious assaults.

To anyone who could help me!!!!!!!!!!! I am interested in hearing from anyone who served with the 39th F co. My grandfather was in that unit and I would like to know anything I could about the unit or if anyone knew him?? His name is Joseph E. Semmes and he is from Meridian,Mississippi. Thank you and I hope I will learn something new and exciting.

Infantry Officer Candidate School - Ft Benning

On June 15, 1943, I reported for active duty at Infantry OCS (Officer Candidate School) at Fort Benning, Georgia. After four years of Infantry ROTC at Rutgers University, the Army reneged on its agreement to commission us 2nd Lieutenants upon graduation. As one of several alternatives, we were offered the “opportunity†to volunteer for induction in the ERC and attend OCS with the rank of corporal. If we successfully completed the course, we would be commissioned 2nd Lieutenants, Infantry at that time. If not, we would be sent to an IRTC, (Infantry Replacement Training Center) as a corporal.

We were assigned to the 15th Company, 3rd Student Training Regiment of the Infantry School, OCS Class 298. There were two hundred Officer Candidates (our official rank and title) in the class, all but a few already in enlisted uniform through the ERC option. With very few exceptions, they were ROTC graduates from the University of Oklahoma, University of Washington, Rutgers University and Syracuse University. The remaining few had been selected for OCS from the Army’s enlisted ranks.

We were formed into four platoons of fifty men each, one platoon to each of four two-story barracks. Everything was done alphabetically. I was the twenty-fifth man on the first floor of the first barracks, with “Knobby†Chandler, a Rutgers classmate, in the bunk on my left and the front wall of the barracks on my right. We were each assigned a steel cot and mattress and a plywood foot locker at the foot of the cot. There were rifle racks running down the center aisle and there was a latrine with a substantial number of toilets, sinks and showers at the other end. The orderly room was in a separate building on one end of the row of barracks and the mess hall and supply room at the other.

At our first formation, we were told that half of us could expect to graduate at the end of the thirteen-week program. The rest would “wash out†and be sent to IRTCs as corporals. If we needed any motivation to do well in OCS, that was more than sufficient incentive to keep us alert and on the ball. Each platoon had a T.O. (Tactical Officer), a 1st or 2nd Lieutenant who was responsible for the training of his platoon and the selection of those who would be commissioned. In other words, he was God for the duration of our stay! My T.O. was 1st Lieutenant Talbot. He wore sun tans and a pith style helmet with an Infantry School Insignia front and center which read “Follow Me,†the motto of the Infantry School.

All of our training was conducted by a cadre of Army personnel assigned to the Infantry School for that purpose. At that time, there was a two hundred man OCS class starting and finishing every day so the cadre that was conducting each training drill just repeated it each day for the next class. On our second day, we were given a series of written tests, one of which was an I.Q. test. A score of at least 110 (100 is the population average) was required to remain in OCS. They didn’t tell us our scores, but I found out years later that I had scored 144.

We were issued three sets of sun tans (shirt, trousers, belt, and cap - summer uniform), two pairs of ankle high Army boots, several pair of socks and sets of underwear, a pair of canvas leggings, a fiberglass helmet liner, a web belt, a canteen, a mess kit, a compass, a rifle and two army blankets. We rarely wore the sun tans because our normal duty uniform was a pair of dark green twill overalls, worn over our underwear with the boots, leggings, web belt and helmet liner. We each had three sets which we had to order and pay for. When we came in from the field, they were sweat soaked and went right into the laundry which the Army provided free of charge. For the first three days I had to wear my civilian clothes while I waited for the coveralls to arrive. We ate three meals a day, usually in the mess hall on steel trays, but sometimes in the field, especially at lunch time. The Army didn’t use the word lunch. The three meals were called breakfast, dinner and supper and the field rations were labeled accordingly. The meals were OK, nothing fancy, but better than that to which I was accustomed on my $5.50 cafeteria weekly meal ticket at college. I was introduced to grits, black eyed peas and bug juice, southern delicacies which I avoid to this day. I don’t remember our hours, but our first formation was early in the morning and we went to bed early at night, usually in a state of exhaustion. We had no duties other than those related to our training. There was no KP, no latrine duty, no guard duty. These functions were performed by enlisted personnel assigned to the Infantry School for that purpose. Every available minute was utilized for training. We did have to keep the area around our bunk clean and orderly, mopping it every morning.

On a typical day, we would arise, visit the latrine to wash up, then dress and fall in at our first formation. When dismissed, we would head for the mess hall for breakfast. We would then fall in again and either march or be trucked to the day’s training area, depending on its distance from our company area. No time was wasted on long marches. When we were trucked, two hundred men were loaded into the back of a large moving van which had four equally spaced narrow benches running the length of the truck bed. We straddled the benches facing to the rear and we invariably sang marching songs en route. ( “Working on the Railroad,†“Yellow Ribbon,†“I’ve Got Sixpence,†and others). We did get plenty of exercise. We had frequent sessions of calisthenics followed by running a tough obstacle course against the clock. In the training areas, a variety of activities took place. We fired all Infantry weapons on their respective ranges, the rifle, carbine, BAR (Browning Automatic Rifle), light machine gun, heavy machine gun, 45 caliber pistol, mortar and 37mm antitank gun. We sat in bleachers in the broiling Georgia July sun to watch demonstrations of tank tactics, antiaircraft fire, and the use of artillery, barbed wire, and flame throwers. We had classroom work on map reading, military courtesy, mines, leadership, aircraft recognition and small unit tactics. We learned to assemble and disassemble our weapons rapidly. We ran the uphill bayonet course against straw dummies and the blazing Georgia sun. And we ran small unit tactical problems with each of us being given command and being judged on our actions by our T.O. We had night problems finding our way through a wooded area in total darkness using only the compass. Other problems including assaulting an enemy position, crawling under barbed wire with live machine gun fire over our heads, crossing a river under simulated enemy fire and others too numerous to remember. When we returned to the company area at the end of the day, our coveralls were soaked with sweat and we were exhausted. But our pride required that we march in in good order usually singing “I’ve Got Sixpence†or something similar in time with the march cadence. After dismissal, we would head for the showers. But I would try to squeeze in a quick trip to the nearby PX (Post Exchange) to grab a nickel bottle of ice cold Mission orange soda. Nothing ever tasted so good! After supper, we would usually have more classroom work or a study hall. In the brief intervals in between, we shined our boots, cleaned our rifles, sent out our laundry or wrote a letter.

Our performance was never graded and we never knew where we stood. Our T.O. took notes but never told us what they were. The motivation to succeed was unimaginable as was the shame of failure. To graduate, to be commissioned and to wear those gold bars were objectives which assumed importance all out of proportion to their real worth. There was no such thing as a reprimand or a punishment tour. If you screwed up, you were out! And the way in which the culling took place kept the pressure on at an inconceivable level. At each morning formation on the company street, the last announcement before leaving for the training area would be, “Candidates Brown and Smith report to the orderly room. Platoon dismissed.†When we returned to the company area at the end of the day, there was nothing but a bare space on the barracks floor where Brown’s and Smith’s cots and foot lockers had been that morning.

I remember several of the field problems which illustrate how such determinations were made. We were on a simulated patrol to attack a Japanese supply dump. The candidate selected as platoon leader for the exercise led us down a ravine about twenty feet deep so as to remain unobserved. Suddenly, two machine guns in dugouts in the side of the ravine began firing live ammunition just over our heads. The sound was terrifying as the tracer bullets cris-crossed above us and tore up the opposite banks. We all hit the dirt, but there was no place to go. The T.O. said to the designated platoon leader, “Your men are being slaughtered! What are you going to do!†There was nothing he could do and it was so real that the platoon leader sat down and began to cry! I know that sounds incredible, but you had to be there and feel the constant pressure and extreme motivation in order to understand it. Needless to say, the designated platoon leader was called to the orderly room next morning and we never saw him again.

On another occasion, I was the platoon leader. As we advanced in a skirmish line across a grassy field, a machine gun began to fire over our heads from a copse of woods about 150 yards ahead. We all hit the ground in grass and weeds about three feet deep. I called out, “Squad leaders, assemble on me!†And then, “I will lead 1st squad into those woods on our left. Squads 2, 3 and 4 will maintain a base of fire on the machine gun. I will lead 1st squad to a point opposite the copse and we will flank the machine gun. Cease fire when you see us cross the open ground between the woods and the copse. Move out!†With the first squad, I crawled through the grass and weeds so as to remain unobserved until we had entered the woods on our left. When under cover, we stood up and moved rapidly forward through the woods. When opposite the copse, we formed a skirmish line and dashed across the open ground and into the copse. We then spread out and closed on the machine gun and killed it with simulated fire. The T.O.’s only comment to me was, “The machine gun is knocked out. You lost three men crossing the open ground.†I assumed I had done OK.

Another time, we were firing the 60mm mortar on the range. The target was a four foot by eight foot wooden 2x4 frame covered with orange canvas on a ridge line between a quarter and half mile away. The mortar is not a very accurate weapon. Its value comes in its large bursting radius and the ability to adjust the range and direction after each round based on where the last one landed. I estimated the range at 450 yards and the first round was on its way. We sweated out the fifteen-second wait while the round was in flight watching intently for the location of the impact burst. There was none! I thought the round might have been a dud and waited a little longer. From the valley beyond the target, a thin trail of smoke finally arose at an angle because of the breeze. A terrible estimate of the range! But without missing a beat, I ordered, “Down 150, left 50, fire when ready.†With a loud thump, the second round was on its way. At precisely fifteen seconds, the target disappeared in smoke, fire and debris. When the smoke cleared, there was no trace of the target. Direct hit! A very lucky one in a hundred shot!

We were divided up into groups of four men for a night problem. We were dropped off at the edge of some woods, given a compass bearing and told to find our way to a parallel road some three miles away. We were told there were enemy patrols in the woods and to proceed accordingly. There were numbered stakes along the parallel road and our performance was judged on how close we came to the proper stake and how long it took us to get there. It was pitch black in the woods and we kept falling into ravines which threaded their way through the woods but we finally reached the parallel road and reported the number of the stake nearest the point from which we exited the woods. Was it the right stake? We were never told!

One of the Candidates in our barracks was Sergeant Adams. He was one of the very few non-college men in the class. He was a farmer who had worked his way up to sergeant in the Regular Army and then applied for Officer Candidate School. He was a first class soldier and would probably make a good Infantry Officer, but a scholar he was not! We liked him and were determined to help him get his commission. Every night we would tutor him on the homework assignments to be sure he passed the classroom tests. He needed no help on field problems. I am happy to say that he got his commission. I wonder whether he survived the War.

Our only free time was Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday. A few of the guys would put on their sun tans and go into the town of Columbus. We were required to wear an OCS patch sewed to the pocket of our shirt. I reasoned that that would be sufficient provocation for a drunken soldier to pick a fight and I might be tossed out of OCS. I never went into Columbus. There was no time to get lonesome during the week, but weekends were very lonely. I did a lot of letter writing on weekends. There was a Post Theater where we could see a movie on Saturday or Sunday night. The best show I ever saw was put on by Bob Waterfield, the professional football quarterback for the Los Angeles Rams, and actress Jane Russell. They weren’t on the screen. They were seated in the seats directly in front of me! They had just been married and Waterfield was in Infantry OCS. When I left for overseas, I heard that Waterfield had been discharged because of an old football injury and was back playing football for the Rams.

I, having been appointed temporarily a Second Lieutenant in the Army of the United States, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same, that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservations or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office upon which I am about to enter; SO HELP ME GOD.There was never any hazing or what the GIS called “chickenshit.†We were much too busy for that and what we were doing was a very serious business. The one thing we hated though, was what was called the “f--k Your Buddy Sheet.†Twice during the thirteen-week program, we were required to rank in order of officer suitability, the twenty-five or so men in our section, (floor of the barracks) with a sentence after each of the first five and the last five explaining our rationale. There could be no hedging, because someone had to be first and someone had to be last. And showing favoritism didn’t pay because we were each rated by the T.O. on our ability to effectively evaluate the others.

As we came down to the last week or two, our morale soared. We were going to make it! One of the men in our section, Bob Cater, (AKA Eighter from Decatur), had a radio which he would tune to a local Georgia station at full volume while we were cleaning up between reveille and our first formation. They always played a silly song called “I’m the King of Siam.†And during that last week, we would all join in on the chorus, fifteen survivors strong singing at the top of our lungs, “I’m the King of Siam, yes I am. Oh yes I am. Oh yes I am. For I’m the King of Siam, yes I am.†And we thought we were, figuratively at least. Finally the big day came, September 20, 1943, and 140 of the original 200 men swore the oath and pinned on their gold bars. Twenty-one of the thirty-one starters from Rutgers were commissioned 2nd Lieutenants, Infantry. Eleven of the twenty-one would soon be killed in action. Although I have no statistics on the others, it is reasonable to assume that more than seventy of the 140 graduates of OCS class 298 gave their lives for their country. A 50% KIA rate seemed to be the norm for Infantry OCS. And with an overall average of 3 ½ wounded for every one killed, very, very few escaped unscathed. Had we known these statistics, our youthful enthusiasm would have been under considerable pressure. One hundred and forty fine, intelligent, educated young men with dreams of glory were about to learn the cruel reality of War. And another OCS class would be graduating tomorrow and another the day after tomorrow and another the day after that.

Russ Cloer - 3_7_I_Recon

Received this letter from Laura, the daughter of a 1289th engineer.

First I want to say what a wonderful job you have done with your

website. I have so enjoyed going through it and learning more about

the Engineer Corps. My father was in the 1289th Engineer Corp in WWII

and also in the 79TH Engineer Corp in Korea. I am also trying to put

together his war record during these time frames. Any suggestions as

to where to start would be most helpful. I already have his discharge

papers etc and am fortunate to still have him as a historian. However

his memory, as would be mine, as to specifics has faded. When I get

the information together I would be more than happy to share it with

you. How would I find out more about the 1289th and 79th BNs and where

they were and what they specifically did during these time frames.

Thank you for your dedication and your anticipated help. Laura

--------------------------------------

Good morning Laura:

I have some immediate info for you regarding the 1289th, but I must admit it's not much. I will also check my Corps of Engineers - War Against Germany book later this week and see if I can copy any pages from it for you.

Thank you for your kind words. The site has become a vital source of info for many and I only hope that is will become even more so in the near future as the site grows. Make sure you check out our Message Board too, as we have many vets and others who contribute. The Message Board has become a good source of into for those looking for vets and anything on their units.

The contacts below are listed for these engineer units. Another woman was also looking for info on this unit, but here is what she said, "Thank you for the info...I have been in contact with Mr. Howes in the past, but have not heard from him in a year or so. Hopefully, I will find someone else who has some information. Again, thanks."

Hopefully that doesn't mean he has since passed on. I would suggest that you still give it a try. After all even if he is deceased, you may be able to talk with his descendants. This has often been the route for me.

----------------

1289th Engr (Combat) Bn

Mr. James T Howes 302-265-3304

908 Quail Ln

Newark DE 19711-2604

EMail: howesrus@cs.com

---------------------------

The link listed below is some history written about one of the men in your dad's unit. Maybe his brief story, or even his name might ring a bell with your dear father. You never know.

http://crosscountybank.com/veterans/VETERANS/Stacy,%20George%20W.,%20Jr..htm

Here is the link which can be found in my forum. It gives many sources for research. My strongest suggestion is to contact the Army Corps of Engineers. They were a huge help to me in my research on my dad's unit. Please note that while most units have data there, some have more than others. Once in a while you may run across a unit who's history cannot be found through the ACE, but they are your best bet. They would have info on units from WWII and Korea. If you do contact them and happen to talk with the head historian, Michael Brodhead, please tell him that I sent you.

There is also a fee-based service run by my friend, Richard Horrell, a WWII historian. His link can also be found in my research suggestions.

http://www.6thcorpscombatengineers.com/engforum/index.php?showtopic=23

Give your dad a big hug for me and tell him that I am making sure that their memories NEVER fade away. I would be delighted to create a page for your father in the future and hope you will stay in touch. Please consider joining our forum too.

I will get back with you later regarding any pages that I able to find regarding your dad's WWII unit.

Please note that I am also placing your letter to me and my reply in the forum section, WWII Engineers, in the hope that others may see it and benefit from it and/or contact you.

Warmest regards,

Marion J Chard

Proud Daughter of Walter (Monday) Poniedzialek

VI Corps, 540th Combat Engineer WWII

Essayons!