Landing in France: June 1944

The morning of D plus 10 ( June 6th ) dawned bright and clear after two days of rain, and the British liner "Cheshire" swung at anchor in the English Channel off the coast of Normandy at an area code-named "Omaha Beach". Men of the 329th Regiment was disembarking into the barges to be ferried ashore. 'Dixie', a tall lanky Pfc. of 'B' Company, leaned with his back to the ship's rail, watching the whole scene; the men going over the side on the nets, the supply ships anchored along the coast as far as could be seen, the barrage balloons floating over the ships, and occasionally some fighter planes dueling high in the sky over it all. There seemed to be little urgency to it all, yet these were the first men to follow the D-day assault troops.

It would be an hour before 'B' company would begin to unload, so Dixie came up on deck to breathe some fresh air and watch the other rifle companies go ashore. He enjoyed the fresh spring sea breezes, but silently criticized the method of unloading. Can you imaging going over the side of a ship loaded down with a complete full-field pack, rifle, and iron helmet? Even high school athletes had the lightest equipment available for their contests, but then the army is a bug-lugging, bone mashing, mud sucking, spirit destroying humanity machine. Who plans these things anyway? What the hell, today isn't any different than any other in this army. His thoughts wandered back to Wrexham, Wales where they had stayed before crossing the channel. Good plain people, in their little stone villages and beautiful countryside. Such an enjoyable place yet one by one the liberty passes were recalled until no one could go out. The SOB's! He remembered the weeks just before going into the service, he had met. a nice girl, and in spite of gas rationing they had managed a lot of dates, mostly parties for the guys leaving for the service. It always took a half-hour to say "goodnight" when he brought her home. These thoughts he quickly dismissed because they made him homesick.

He could see the line of soldiers from the ship, crossing the beach, and disappearing over the ridgeline. The troops on the vessel continued to swing over the sides into the landing barges, and his thoughts continued to parade through his mind. He recalled the introduction to "marching fire" in Wales. What away to fight a war! It's a wonder they didn't issue redcoats and brass buttons after that one. Half a mile from the ship stood a half-sunken battleship. It was painted blue-black, and gave the impression that it had burned, but it was probably grounded on purpose its bow pointed toward the beach and all its guns were directed too cover beyond the beach. What a mass the whole scene was, Dixie gave silent thanks that his unit did not have to make the landing. It was a costly day.

By now some of the men from 'B' company were beginning to appear on deck. They stared in disbelief at the whole scene, and those at the rail claimed every piece of floating junk to be a body. Dixie's thoughts wandered undisturbed. He was never more alone than when he was in the midst of these blockheads. What would it be like in combat with these guys? Done of them ever hunted or had any interest in guns. Hell, the only one who played high-school football was Brooks, and he was so small no one could tend low enough to tackle him. He was a little shaggy headed rebel from N.Carolina, quiet easy going, but unlike the rest who would be willing to die for their country, he would fight for it. One of his rare expressions was "I'm gonna live, 'till I die, and that ain't gonna be too soon". Dutton dropped his gear on the deck next to Dixie and asked how long it would be before we started to unload. The answer was "not long" and they both leaned on the railing and surveyed the scene together. Dutton was from Ohio, not yet twenty years old, and looked too young and innocent to be away from home alone. He was a good-looking kid with a short little nose that disappeared under the shadow of his helmet.

He and Dixie were the scouts in the squad and kind of got along together because they had the same duties. Garrison shuffled over to the rail, dragging his pack behind with one hand and holding his rifle by the strap with the other. How unmilitary can you get? He lived near Brooks in N.C. and knew him because their high school football teams played against each other. Garrison was a team manager or water boy for the second team. He was a skinny, sallow faced, red head that was sent to military school to make a man out of him, but he must have had pull to get in the army. He wasn't a complainer because he never said anything; in fact if it weren't for the sergeants you would never know anyone was around in this outfit.

The whole of 'B' Co. was on deck and an officer signaled for the heavy weapons platoon to start down the knots. The 1st platoon moved across the deck to follow, and as they passed the ships loud speakers Bing Crosby was singing "Home on the Range". While waiting to get to the side of the ship, Dixie was thinking, "I guess we're really going to be in a war for sure, all I ask is for half a fighting chance. I'd hate to be wiped out by an artillaryman who didn't even see me. His gaze drifted over the guys crowded around him and he wondered what they were thinking about. They always seemed to do just what they were told, when they were told without the slightest reaction; not even a swear word. "How did I wind up in this outfit?" "I should have joined the Navy." First platoon reached the unloading nets draped over the side of the vessel and they could see an empty barge swing into position below. A couple sergeants gave the go ahead and five at a time climbed down the nets with their rifle and a full field pack. That started the grunts, and some muffled swearing. Dixie smiled to himself, saying, "Maybe there is some hope for these kids yet." Then his helmet was hit by, the butt of a rifle that slid down the arm of the guy above him. He couldn't let go of the knot to push the rifle up, or even raise the helmet to see. He slowed his descent so his helmet pushed up on the full field pack of the guy above, giving him the chance to let go with one hand and push the rifle back on the guys shoulder. They blindly continued to descend together to the barge, and the helping hands of Dutton and Brooks guided them to the deck of the barge. Before Dixie lifted his helmet to see who had been above him, he guessed Garrison. It was.

The barge filled quickly and as it lurched toward the beach they braced against each other to keep from falling and all were still standing when the barge beached high and dry. The square bow dropped on the sand, becoming a ramp, and everyone stepped off on dry ground. Better than wading ashore in water up to your armpits. The squads fell in by platoons automatically and the platoon sergeants directed their men across the beach to an inland trail winding up the slope. Up at the top of the path, men of the heavy weapons platoon were just going over the crest of the hill. As 1st platoon approached the path the squads formed in a single column, and the platoon sargeant stepped aside to fall in behind his men after they passed him. This little maneuver left Dixie at the head of the column, and as they started upward they passed an MP who warned them to stay inside the white tapes laid out in the fields ahead. The men nodded as they passed the MP, and hunched forward to shift the weight of their packs as they climbed up the incline.

Half way up they passed a demolished pillbox. Its walls were constructed of six foot reinforced concrete and it must have taken direct hits from a battleship because there were no craters around it. When Dixie passed it, all he could only think of was the men of D-Day and the exposures they had to go through. The higher they climbed the easier it seemed and their paced picked up. There seemed to be a definite exhilarating atmosphere. Perhaps due to an improvement in the weather, but most likely caused by the excitement of landing on foreign soil actually held by the enemy. They reached level ground and before them lay the first broad fields of Normandy. A single lane dirt road, recently worn-in the grass, led straight inland. Through the field and on each side a white tape was pinned to the ground. A couple hundred yards ahead on the road the heavy weapons platoon could be seen marching at rout stop in two columns, and the 1st platoon formed in the same way as they came over the crest of the hill.

Now Dutton was opposite Dixie as they led the platoon inland. Simultaneously they both looked back to see if the rest of the men were keeping up, when there was a muffled explosion ahead in the field. They had taken several steps before they realized that half of the heavy weapons platoon was on the ground. The call "medic" was relayed through the fields as Dixie and Dutton increased their pace to reach the stricken men. Although they hurried as fast as they could under the weight of their packs, the medic's got there first and the company officers directed everyone to keep moving. The only one Dixie recognized was Shorty Griggs. Shorty was on his back, his cheek and face covered with blood, and Dixie could read the helplessness in his eyes as he passed by. Every morning in the barracks, when the lights were turned down, everyone would sit up on their bunk and holler. "heads" or "tails" to bet which end and Shorty would pop out. He always slept curled up under the blankets in the middle of the bed and would surface at either end. He was a natural comedian and would always put on a good show when he had an audience.

As the platoons lined up in the next field, they dropped their gear and the first announcement requested men with any machinegun or mortar experience to report to the 4th platoon. It had lost eighteen of it's forty men when a soldier of another division walked outside the tapes while trying to pass. He tripped a bouncing betty mine, and he wasn't touched when it went off. The feelings of the entire company changed from the exhilaration of arriving hereos to the dismal depths of remorse and helplessness. How could such a senseless thing happen so quickly? It was never learned if any of the injured died,, but it was apparent that several were hurt seriously. As "B" Co. reorganized, and the shock of the incident subsided, the men quietly discussed the perishable aspects of life and for the first time came to the realization that they needed each other.

After breaking into their first K rations (K for cardboard ) the company moved inland, passing fields planted with ten foot poles every fifty feet to deter aircraft from landing. Several times they saw the remnants of gliders that had been destroyed trying to land in these fields. After a march of a mile or so the company was led into a field and each platoon was assigned an area along the edges for digging their foxholes. The first order issued was not to cross the field, walk around the edges to avoid detection from the air. This was our home for the next -eleven days. During that time we did daily calisthenics, set up full field pack inspections and went, crazy with rumors. We were issued bazookas, and that started the rumor that the German Tiger Tanks were in the line against us. Our platoon officers were changed often, which was a certain sign that our company would be used for replacements. When we heard the distant cannon fire, it could only mean the Germans were advancing. Word spread that Generals Eisenhower and Bradley ware visiting in our fields. There was no stampede for autographs, but the news was good medicine for our nerves. After all, we could still hear the muffled gunfire in the distance caused by the activities of the D-Day men. However, this raised the question, "Where was Patton?" We were supposed to to be in his army.

In the twilight hours of June 28th the word was passed to prepare to move with light packs. This meant a raincoat and three K-rations. Everything else was to be stowed in the duffle bag. Dixie added a couple pair of hand knitted socks from home. His feet always felt better in these socks than the regular issue. As darkness closed in the men were still sitting around the perimeter of the field, sitting on their helmets with their backs against the hedgerow. It was another one of those think sessions. They couldn't talk to each other over the noise of the supply trucks rolling past their field. In the last few days the traffic had increased greatly and many of the vehicles were ammo carriers. An unusual vehicle they had never seen before. Dixie was wondering how we got into this mess, and even how Britain and France got into it, but that would take him back before WWI and he didn't know much about that. He thought it was a real shame that their people have been at each other through the centuries. He wondered what combat would be like. Would we be blown up or mowed down. Or would we get a fighting chance. He felt it wouldn't be too fair. "If only we fought with swords, we'd have a chance." But, then he thought of the first day in the infantry camp when a rifle and a bayonet were the first thing they issued. The sight of the bayonet turned his stomach, and for three days he wouldn't talk to anyone in the barracks until he realized that if he would ever be required to use it he would be better off than most of his little buddies.

It was still light when the word came to move out. 'B' Co. piled into three two-and-a-half ton trucks standing on the road and off they went, eastward, on a dirt road. It seemed like a beautiful rural area, and shortly they passed a road sign marked 'Isigny'. and in the low land below they could sea a church steeple and a cluster of houses among the trees. Reports were the 101st paratroops had run into big trouble here, and many were killed while still hanging from the trees.

There was complete darkness when the trucks stopped. We dropped to the pavement and moved to the side of the road. The trucks turned around and left quickly. The sergeants came back. with the news that we were close to Carentan and as soon as the engineers fixed the iron bridge over the Taute River we would move into the town and take the positions held by the 101st paratroopers. Every half hour at night the Germans shelled the bridge, destroying the temporary plank surface and the engineers would restore the planks every half hour so the bridge was passable for about seven minutes in each hour.

As the men stood silently waiting for the command to move, the darkness was split by deafening explosions and blinding flashes of light. The whole company as one man dove for the ditch beside the road. A series of less startling blasts and flashes followed before they realized this was their own artillery in the adjacent field furnishing covering fire for the infantrymen crossing the bridge. At least in the darkness we didn't have to look at our foolish faces. Only yesterday we had a lecture about staying off the shoulders of the roads because they were often mined. Dixie had gotten up on one knee when he felt Brooks drop face down in the grass. He leaned over to ask what was the trouble. Brooks said he was on a 'Bouncing Betty'. Every time he tried to rise something pressed up on his chest. Dixie, kneeling along side, slid his hand under Brooks' chest and told him to rise slowly. Sure enough, something was pressing upwards. But, it was only some strands of telephone field wire that were stretched taut by the weight of so many bodies.

There was no time to be mortified, the company was moving toward the bridge. Each squad dashed across the loose planks that bounced under their weight. The black water below the planks, running deep and silent, reflected the artillery flashes as they sped across. Once across, the platoons formed and moved toward the town. After traveling a short distance, they were walking on a narrow cobblestone street with quaint little shuttered houses lining each side. As they marched along in the darkness only the sound of their heels on the cobblestones could be heard echoing along the street. The center of town was a three-way intersection. 1st platoon took the left leg and after only a couple blocks, turned into a small orchard and took the foxholes that had been dug by the paratroopers. We didn't see many of them to talk to, but they left word that we could go straight to Paris right now. Speaking just loud enough for the others to hear Dutton said, "If we had a choice we'd rather go to London!" The squads were directed to dig in around the perimeter of the field, and every fourth man stands guard. This meant they didn't expect too much to happen the rest of the night. Those paratroopers hadn't dug many holes or very deep ones, so every body had some digging to do. Luckily the soil was sandy loan so the digging was finished quickly. The rest of the night was quiet, except for an occasional artillery exchange. In the morning the sun came up warm and bright and the dew on our clothes dried quickly. The kitchen provided a warm breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon delivered in large thermo-jugs. After the mess gear was cleaned in the G.I. cans of boiling water we returned to our holes and checked our gear and cleaned our weapons. Our way of life hadn't changed much. Some of the men near the road said they could see the enemy occasionally crossing back and forth in the distance. Garrison and Dickson were detailed to dig a slit trench in the woods next to the orchard and meanwhile some of the men were stationed on outposts to protect against surprise attack. The mailman left a pack of letters to be passed out, so we were learning to live a normal life under our helmets.

In the evening Dixie was sent to stand guard on an outpost. It was a small barn, as big as a one car garage. There was a small garden next to it. There didn't seem to be any houses near by to claim ownership of the garden. A young rifleman named Knowles came from the 3rd squad to stand with Dickson. They talked about digging some of the potatoes out of the garden, but agreed no to because they might be taking someone's food. It had just become dark, when Knowles challenged someone moving toward the post. Dixie stood ready with his rifle until the password was answered with the counter word. It was the Captain's voice. To the surprise of both of them, Captain Shelton was alone, but that was typical of him. He has to check everything himself. Back. in the states when we handed in our rifles, he was in the supply shack checking each rifle himself. Half the company had to do the cleaning job over again.

This night however, he talked about nothing in particular, and seemed as friendly as hell. We hit on the subject of weapons and each in turn stated his own preference of a weapon when the company runner burst out of the bushes toward the barn. He returned the counter sign then asked if the Captain was there. As they left the runner was heard to say the Colonel wanted the Captain at battalion headquarters. Dixie whispered to Knowles that something is brewing, and then they stationed themselves just inside the barn door to keep out of the light drizzle that had started. They spent the rest of the night on their post wondering why the captain had been so personable. With the morning sun came the change of Guard and when Dixie joined his squad they were on the way to chow; pancakes and sausages. They had finished eating the meal at their foxholes when an incoming shell landed in the Orchard. Everyone hugged the earth waiting for more, but the few that followed sailed overhead probably landing at the bridge.

The shell that landed in the orchard could have been a short round that was also, intended for the bridge. Anyway it in- spired a considerable amount of digging to deepen the existing foxholes. For a couple hours there were no orders except to check your weapons and stay in the area. A couple curious men went over to the road to try and see the Germans. There was a single grave in the orchard and on the wooden marker was written an unpronounceable German name. He had belonged to the 17th SS Div. Some didn't believe it was a real grave, so finally one man dug a hole in the loose dirt with his hand until he uncovered a spot of skin. After the doubters looked in he quickly filled the hole.

The call of nature is not to be denied, so Dixie and his little pack shovel reported to the slit trench over in the woods. In moments of privacy, like this, he would take one of his old letters out of a shirt pocket, read it for the last time, then when he had completed his task he would cover letter and all with dirt. When he returned to the orchard the platoon was preparing to leave. There was to be a river-crossing drill in small boats back at the bridge. When the platoon got to the center of town,, some shells fell on the bridge and the boat drill was cancelled. They returned to the orchard and after evening meal word came that tomorrow an all out attack - the big push-by the entire front between Carentan and Caen would begin. There was no excited chearing but the glint in each man's eye seemed to say, "Paris here we come!"

At 4:30 in the morning the three division artillery battalions opened up for half an hour, then the 83rd Division attacked southward along the Carentan- Periers road, with the 9th Division on the left and the 4th Division on the right. Two of the regiments of the 83rd Division, the 330th and the 33'ist, were committed in the attack with support from the 2nd and 3rd battalions of the 329th. First battalion of the 329th stayed in their position on the south side of Carentan as a sort of last line of defense for the artillery units behind them. By noon these reserve companies were moved in behind the active units to protect against flank attacks and to be in position for replacement in the line. All the attacking units had run into well positioned enemy forces and had to advance through wide open swamp areas that exposed them to enemy mortar and machine gun fire. In every hedgerow the Jerries were well dug-in, and every road was zeroed-in by their eighty-eights. It seemed they knew every inch of ground, and saw every move we made. 'B' Co. had been slipping from field to field trying to maintain. their support position as the situation changed. They had received some sniper and artillery fire but were still untouched.

Right after dark they were placed in a small field and were digging in by the surrounding hedgerow when little Acker, a regular Army creature, complained he couldn't dig any more. Dixie was about to offer a word of encouragement when a salvo of 88's hit directly on the other side of the hedgerow. The ground shook and while the effects of the deafening blast was wearing off all Dixie could think of was the bastards can see in the dark, but not too well. Ole Acker had the inspiration he needed, he was digging like a machine. The night passed with only a couple lighter explosions. In the morning light we slipped out of the little field, gladly too, because the center of the field was mined. Scurrying along a hedgerow that paralleled a long straight concrete road, probably the Carentan-Pariers, we ducked into a large field. There was a couple of half-tracks and a number of active mortar pits; plus some unoccupied slit trenches. We occupied all the slit trenches, and shared some of the mortar pit, just as the shells dropped in the field. A half-track took a direct hit and the call for "medic " rang out. Some heavy weapons at the other and of the field returned the fire. Our movement must have started the whole thing.

In a short while we were back on, the road running along the hedgerow. We stopped for a break, and while keeping down in the grass a square shaped recon car passed by full of officers, none with less than two stars. We didn't know who they were because we had never seen our own general. Chances were they were Corp officers, and the sight of them up here seemed to confirm the rumor that many of the battalions were badly chewed up. Hell, they had been ordered to attack across open swamps, what else could happen? Anyway, we couldn't be too close to the front; yet with that kind of brass around.

It was still morning, when orders were issued for the 1st battalion, which is us, to join the third battalion. 'B' Co. ran across the concrete road and found 'A' Co. already ahead of them in the field. They were being held up from reaching the third battalion by machine gun fire from the flanks. The officers and noncoms were moving back and forth, exchanging orders and messages, but we sat still for a couple hours. Finally we moved forward. 'A' Co. had disappeared to the left. As we entered the next field there were three little blond German kids sprawled around their machine gun, it was still warm. Passing by them, Dutton remarked that they were good looking kids and Dixie answred, "You're cuter." and added, "It's unbelieveable. Three kids can hold up a whole battalion".

'B' Co. dug in, still in reserve, behind 'A' and 'C' companies. Late in the afternoon word came that our captain had been shot through the middle by a sniper. He had stepped out from under an apple tree to scan with his binoculars. Lt. Luther was now the company commander. In the morning we were ordered to replaca 'C' Co. in the line. We maneuvered through a couple of fields into a large wheat field that arched gently in the middle. We ran around the right, hugging the hedgerow, and as we came over the crest we could see two Shermans parked against the forward hedgerow, spread about fifty yards apart. Except for a cattle opening we couldn't see beyond the foliage. While we hold in place, this far tank took a hit and burst into flames. The machine gunner in the turret was enveloped, and he dove into the wheat and rolled on the ground. Some infantrymen pounced on him and smothered the flames with their own clothes. Even though his clothes were scorched black, the man suffered only minor burns on his hands and face. The infantrymen were beginning to question the value of the tank, they had already learned how they attract enemy shelling whenever they appeared. The question became, "Is it better to die with 'em or without 'em?"

Little by little the first platoon was moved forward. The first squad was lying alone, a stretch of hedgerow past the cattle opening. An officer up ahead, Lt. Luther, called back for the squad to move up. Squad Sgt. Hirko called back, "Let's go". The men lunged forward, running in a half crouch. 'Blam', Dixie went down on his face, the man in front and the man behind him went down at the same time. All shook it off, and with the "Let's go." still ringing in their ears, grabbed their rifles and hurries forward. Dixie had a dented helmet while one of the others had a small cut on the back of the neck and the other a minor cut under his eye.

As they approached the Lt. he ordered, "Scouts out", and hold the rest of the squad from entering the field. Dixie went into the field to the right and Dutton kept on straight across the left side. They were told to find 'C' Co. Dixie was halfway down the field when he raised his rifle at a commotion in the foliage ahead. Out burst a character carrying a machine gun he wore G.I. boots and pants, but had only an undershirt on with a white blood soaked bandage around his head. He turned and blasted through the foliage from, where he had just come. Dixie hollered,"'C' Co.?" and the fellow pointed to where Dutton was going through the forward hedgerow. Dixie continued toward his end of the field and looked through the bushes. There was a concrete road, and a jeep lay upside down in the ditch. He crossed the road to inspect the field on the other side. It was empty except for a lone G.I. body in complete combat uniform; neat enough to stand inspection. He wore the 4th Div. shoulder patch, unusual for a combat soldier. So, Dixie turned back to seek his own company. He found where they had gone through the forward hedgerow and climbed over. Actually it was a double hedgerow, one on each side of a narrow dirt road that started at the paved road and went a hundred yards to a little cottage and a small barn. 'C' Co. was dug in here, and it seemed like everyone was wounded.

We gave them our canteens and did whatever we could to help. Dixie heard there was water at the and of the lane and gathered a half dozen canteens to ...

Continued..