I had joined the 83rd in June, I believe, of 1944 and reported to the 329th regiment where I was assigned as a company aide man(medic) for a platoon which was on the line at the time. We were in the hedgerows of Normandy and except for a guy named PHIL OLMER who had come across the channel with me to land at Omaha Beach, I knew no one. PHIL was assigned to a different platoon so I only saw him occasionally while we were at the front. I would love to hear from or about him. Iv'e made several efforts to locate him with no success. There was also chaplain named HALVORSEN ( sp?) who I encountered on the line, in action, who was the most courageous man I ever met. I only saw him twice in the several days I was on the line and each time he deliberately put his life at risk to go back with me when no one else would want to carry out a man who had been wounded by a sniper and was lying alone alongside a hedgerow several hundred yards into enemy territory. I had bandaged the guy and had crawled 1/4 mile or more to get a litter and someone to carry one end with me. No one would come. I really didn't want to go back myself and I had a good excuse until suddenly this chaplain shows up. I tell him the problem and he immediately grabbed a litter and says, "Let's go". Instead of getting on his belly as I had done in coming back from where I had left the wounded man (who's name, I think, could have been BANNISTER). He stood and climbed over the hedgerow, walked into the field which was enemy ground, stopped in full view, turned toward me (I was crouched behind the hedgerow the chaplain had climbed over) and beckoned me to follow. It was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. Shamed by his courage, mixed with a sense of obligation, and gnawing realization that no one knew where the wounded man lay, I had to follow. Although, I maintained the lowest possible profile consistent with keeping up with the chaplain who strode forward without apparent refard for the risk. His only protection, which could be seen, was the red cross on his helmet (medics and chaplains had their helmets painted white with red crosses on them). As we were advancing through the fields, just he and I, we occasionally stopped to kneel down to check who had been killed in the earlier aborted advance that day. He said a prayer , took off their i.d. necklaces and moved on. He knew them all, I think, as he had been their chaplain for some time. He recognized one of the dead as a catholic boy who had come to him the night before they went into battle who wanted to make his confession but there was no catholic chaplain available. HALVORSEN explained to the man that he knew and understood the ritual and he would try his best to serve. I don't remember but, I don't think, he accepted the offer. As I said earlier, I met HALVORSEN again within the next couple of days and that was another extraordinary story but that can hold for another day. If, indeed, this account produces a response from one of the men I've named, hopefully, or someone who knows of them.

Ken Murray