By Pvt Edward H. McDaniels, 1945

It was on a clear October morning when our company was alerted to ship out and we knew where. We packed our duffle and rolled our full field pack and were off to board a train which would take us to our shipping point. When we started, the destination wasn’t known, but after thirty minutes of traveling, we knew it was New York City. We had many Long Island and New York City boys in my platoon and while passing through those cities, we went within two blocks of their homes. How hard it was for those fellows who knew mother and dad were anxiously waiting for word from their son. No, we couldn’t stop or even call as we were on our way overseas in time and place of departure where to be known only to military personnel. The train stopped and we looked at each other, with a look that can never be forgotten, we’re leaving our homes and loved ones. Fall In was the command and soon we were boarding a ferry to cross the Hudson River to Pier No.19. It was a long time, seemed like years, but soon we could hear the sound of music, a band from one New York School was playing as we filed off the ferry. Before entering the building you were greeted by an officer who asked the following questions, “McDaniels” , and then I answer Pvt. Edward H. 32948875 and so on until every man was off the boat. Now for a last cup of coffee and a doughnut, the lady in the blue uniform of our American Red Cross came by with a basket of doughnuts and then the coffee. Oh, what thoughts ran through our minds, but on the surface we were the same laughable G. I.’s. Now the last gang plank to the biggest ship afloat, the Queen Elizabeth, was the vessel which was to take our Regiment to the fighting fronts of the European Theater of Operations.

We were placed on Deck B to await directions as to where we were to sleep, eat, and spend our time. It wasn’t until 12:00 midnight that we received our orders. Order No. 1, two squads where to sleep and eat 24 hours on Deck B and the next 24 hours on the open deck of the Port Side. We had a night’s sleep and at 7:00 a.m. we started to leave dock and Thank The Lord, we could have our porthole open and we saw the Statue of Liberty on our way out to sea. We had no escorts, only a Navy Blimp which only escorted us about seven hours. The Queen does not go in an escort as her cruising speed is 40 knots and no liberty ship can keep that speed. It was five long days before we landed. Bridge was our only entertainment, some had sea sickness for sport but very few. There were 22 of us in a suite which, in normal times, was occupied by one couple.

We landed in a beautiful bay in Scotland. One Scottish town was Gruen and it was our first sight of land. The morning of the 5th day we transferred to the King George Steamer which took us to shore. Our Red Cross met us again with doughnuts and coffee but no sugar. We climbed aboard an English Six to a compartment and rode 23 hours to Andovershire, England, where we got off and started for camp. Walking, mind you, with full field packs, duffle bags, rifle and gas masks – nothing more or less than a pack mule.

It was 15 miles from the station to the camp and what a mud hole. The huts were masonite huts with stone floors, bunk beds with so-called mattresses. To me, they looked like undertaking bags filled with straw. And what a stove, you could have a roaring fire in it and three feet away you would freeze.

We trained there for three weeks and then we were shipped to a camp near Glochester and Chiltenham where we were to make the camp ready for the Artillery Regiment of the 106th Division. What a job – scrubbing floors, washing windows, etc. I was lucky that I got a four day pass to London. It took all day to go 90 miles by train from camp to London which seems a little unbelievable. Then they say the English aren’t slow.

On November 30, we were alerted. We knew what for. France was the cry but Captain Moore denied it. We knew better because we had just been given a G.I. French and German Dictionary. Southhampton was our point of entry and we boarded the Duke of Wellington and it was “France, Here I Come”. Yes, on December 18, we came ashore at Port LeHavre. It was our first sight of battered Europe and it was flat. Not a building was standing, only the shells or one wall. We were taken ashore in landing crafts; and, by the way, the landing ship was the only American vessel I rode on as all the rest were sailing under the British flag. The Combat M.P’s routed us and so we started. No vehicles had come ashore so we had to walk. As we went through the city the French people sneered and shunned us because it was American Airmen who bombed their city. They couldn’t understand it was our only way to rid that city of “Jerry’s”. They still couldn’t understand because all that was in their hearts was that knowledge that their loved ones had been killed and their homes destroyed. When the Germans left LeHavre, they took most everything. For five hours we walked and finally a convoy came along and in we hopped, no questions asked, 22 men to a truck with packs, duffle bags and all. We were riding; that was the main thing. We went 90 miles up the coast of France, crossing the Seine River and we stayed outside a small French city. Nine miserable and rainy days were spent in France. Three G.I’s to a pup tent and we still almost froze. In order to have fire wood we had to pay 200 francs for one tree which is about $0.44. Of course, when the Germans were there they took what they wanted but good old America, we pay and dearly at that. It was December 9 when we moved to Belgium to receive orders as to where and when we were to move on the line. Then we were told that we were moving into the Zeigfried Line to relieve the 2nd Division. No activity had existed there in three months so we felt safe. Our outfit was green; that is, we had no experience in combat. On the 12th of December we moved on the line and it seemed a good setup.

Our division was to occupy an area of a 22 mile front and we lived in pill boxes. I was a mortar man so I was in a pill box; the rifle men were not. Our pill box was a six-room affair with a pot bellied stove and a sound powered telephone. I was in the last squad of the weapon platoon so we were put in support of the third platoon. Lt. Pitts was the third platoon leader and he stayed with us in our pill box. Sgt. Wyman, Tes Hartman, Oliver Lothereys, Jimmy Lee Richards, and I are the first mortar squad. We took guard for twelve hours, three of us took it the first six hours and slept the last six. On the night of the 14th our first casualty occurred. A fellow just 19 was shot by a German sniper. The next day, Allen Clapp was shot with a burp gun and was sent directly back to the station hospital.

It was on the eve of the 17th day when it began, “The Battle of The Bulge”. The Jerry’s had separated from us also. Our supplies were inadequate and food was scarce as our supply line was cut off, too. We were given the command to move out and so we did. We traveled 35 miles and on the morning of the 19th of December we were caught in a barrage of 88’s which lasted about two hours. The night before, Jim Oliver and I were to dig a fox hole, but it was so dark we didn’t pick in the same place twice, so we quit. Jim and I put our rain coats down and the three of us slept the rest of the night.

It was about 5:00 when the barrage began and we almost shuddered when we heard one, but soon we became accustomed to them; and if we could hear them whistle, we didn’t worry. We didn’t mind the ones marked with our names because you get them anyway, but the one marked “To Whom It May Concern” were the ones to look out for. Well, it was about 4’ from us when we got our dose. Yes, an 88 landed about 4’ from us at the bottom of a tree where our ammunitions were lying. Jim and I were in the same fox hole, a “V-Shaped hole for two”. We were head to head when it hit. Big me – of course my hind quarter hung overboard and it look all my equipment clean off me.

Two pieces of shrapnel penetrated my right hip, but it didn’t seem serious at the time. When I came to, Jim had been hurt; but there had been no signs of an injury then. We called a medic, and he came immediately and gave me a hypo and started cutting my pants open to get to the wound. He said all he could do was supply a bandage as there was shrapnel present, so he put sulfur powder on and used some first aid packets. We carry 12 sulfur tablets with us so we took them immediately with a half canteen of water. Jim was next, but what to do was a mystery. We noticed he wasn’t breathing through his mouth so upon investigating we found the shrapnel had penetrated his left shoulder blade and gone into his lung. The medic’s treatment wasn’t successful; he died about ten minutes later. He was 19 years old and was soon expecting to become a father. The Jerry’s were coming and it was our move so on we went. I was numb from my hip to my knee but I kept going. We fought all morning and still didn’t gain any ground. I met Dorsey, Bruce, Carrow, and Britain. Britain was wounded in the same place. After we met we went the rest of the way together.

At about 3:00 P.M. we got into another barrage where we lost a great many men. Our ammunition was almost out and resistance was tough. At 4:00 we decided it was no use. We were outnumbered so our S2 Office said our time had come to give up. At that word we all looked around as we know how a prisoner of War was treated. There was no other solution. Beside me lay Everheart, a fellow 19 whose left leg has been blown off not fifteen minutes before – not a tear was present, just that look of helplessness. I was about exhausted and my hip was giving me some pain. Just then Capt. Moore was clipped in the right leg but it was nothing too serious. The final word “Surrender” was given by the S2 Officer and six men stood up and walked forward. They didn’t last long before they were mowed down by a 30 calibre. We were all yelling Comrade, Comrade, as we knew the Germans would understand that. The shells were flying so thick that I don’t think the sound could travel. After the second six had gone forward, they stopped shooting and we came out with our hands over our heads. We destroyed our mortars and rifles before we gave up.

When we got to the road, the Germans searched us and took everything of any value – my watch, D bars, pictures, some rations and jackknife. I hid my rings in my watch pocket of my O.D. pants. They didn’t find them, Thank Heavens. A German medic came and asked where I was hurt. I told him and he made out a tag and said we would get picked up by a German. Those who were not wounded were marched to a Labor Camp and we were left behind. After about an hour, a German in one of our 106 jeeps picked us up. They put me in the front seat, Pat on the front hood (by the way, he was shot in the neck) and the other fellow had a leg off. They took propaganda pictures. They took us to a barn-like place. In the corner on some straw was a leg and arm which had been amputated and what a feeling. One of the fellows who could walk covered them with some old rags. An American medic made due with what we could, but the Germans had stripped them of all their medical supplies. Barker was there with me one night. They took him somewhere the next day. It was on the 22nd when the Germans operated and did a fair job with what they had to do with. About an hour after I came out from the anesthetic, I was taken to an old school where I stayed one night and then started on my long journey back into Germany.

On the 24th day we arrived in Durn and spend Christmas Eve in a so-called hospital which was once a theatre. All was calm until about 11:30 P.M. when the Yanks came to give the Germans a few Christmas packages. One bomb took the building down across the street, but none struck our place directly. We were strafed, that was enough. It killed ten Krouts but no Americans were hurt. The rest of the night was restless. The next morning in came several German Officer and did they rake us over the coals. There were only six G.I’s and believe me, we were scared.

It was Christmas afternoon when they moved us to a three-story schoolhouse which was the only building standing in a large area. I guess they were hoping that our pilots would bomb it off the map so they would’t have to take care of us. It was there I found out that I had a 5” tube in my hip. A Russian prisoner who was a war nurse took it out for me and I was grateful as I was taking care of the rest. Berry, a tail-gunner from a B26, and I were the only ones able to walk at all. There were only 40 of us wounded men in a room 20’ x 50’ and we lay on straw, one blanket to three men. We got food once a day which was nothing, more or less, than rice with horse meat. I dressed wounds with what paper bandages Berry and I could steal. One would talk to the Germans and the other would take what he could. Lt. Johnson was in bad condition, and he and I were under the same blanket. Lt. Dryden died several days later due to burns he received when his plane came down. His copilot had a compound broken leg and hip. He was from Providence, R.I. Adams, Lt. Koenig and several other fellows were needing medical attention but we couldn’t get it for them. One German who was in charge of us was always hollering that the American had coputed water and trains so we called him “Co-put”. We had no toilet, just a bucket, no dishes, just the tins that the cheese came out of which were about the size of a tuna fish can. We were bombed twice a day by our pilots, ten and three were the hours. It was just as exact as it could be. It was on the 30th of December when the Germans said we were to be transported to a prison camp, and they loaded us about 24 to a truck and we started but those few hours turned out to be 28 hours we rode. It was on this trip I met Glenn Scott of Leaksville, N.C. He was hit by a 30 cal. shell and it went into his face about 1/4” off his ear and through his ear drum and out. We arrived at Stalag 6 on December 31 at 7:30 A.M. and there met the first Americans we had seen. We were immediately put into barracks and given a half blanket a piece, and tin pan to eat from. It didn’t take a big one, you can bet on that.

That afternoon we were examined by a Polish Surgeon who, by the way, has over 1,000 amputations to his credit. He was rough but knew what he was doing. The first night was really o.k. as we had the security of other Americans and all nationalities, and we could sleep with some comparative safety. We slept two in a bed as it was cold. Scotty and I were bunk mates. Many a morning we would wake up and he would say, “Mac, what will you have – two friend eggs, toast and butter and one of mom’s pecan rolls.” Yes, that was part of our duty to keep the morale high among our people, for without high spirits and faith in God, our life was useless. The Catholics attended Mass. It was French, but they still went, and Protestants also attended. We Americans had three Bibles and each of us read portions of scripture each day. My first German word was rausser (water.) Other words, especially names of foods, were my next lessons. The days were long and air raids were frequent. Cologne was only about three miles from us and raids were heavy.

Our Prison Camp was about three acres in size and consisted of several one-story barracks. On the top of two of the buildings were red crosses but from altitudes of 500’ or more, they were invisible. There were two entrances to our encampent and we had two 10’ barbed wire fences around us with a coil of wire inside the two. The German mansion was just outside the Main Gate where the German Officers and their families lived. They each had a suite of six rooms. Their officers were on the first floor. The German enlisted men were house in one-story huts in a grove of pines a few feet away,

One January 23, I took a shower as I was moving with “Tommy”, an Englishman, to another barracks and we didn’t want to carry our livestock with us. I got clean, but I suffered as I got an infection from the dirty water we had to use for showers. We had to boil water for drinking. The new place was swell. There were ten of us in a room, five Americans and five Englishmen. “Chuck”, Carolina, Ray, Graw, and I were Americans; and Richard Whately Knight, Irish, Morgan, Yeuleth and Sheutelworth were English. They were all swell fellows. Chuck had only one arm. He left with the first group to a new labor camp. He was from Mass. Only a few days before, one of our B26’s was shot down by German flanks and our hears were in our mouths as we thought about the flaming plane was going to crash into camp. We were lucky that it burst about 600’ in the air. Four of the crew got out okay, that is, their chutes opened and they started down, but two of them were caught in the burst and their chutes went up in flames. Yes, it was our first real sight of a crashing plane but not our last. Several others were shot down, but no account of the bodies found. That is what the Jerry’s said if you can believe them.

There was a beautiful dog fight; and the Yanks won, three less “Krauts and Stukas.” Boy! did it gripe the Krauts, but we loved it. On February 16, the Englishmen left for a Luftwaffe Camp for Air Corps men of every country. Did we hate to see them go as the Yanks were strafing every moving vehicle. They were strafed, but no one was seriously hurt. Men came and went during this time and a great many fellows died. It was on March 13 or March 14, I can’t tell exactly that the Yanks made a push on Cologne and a four hour raid that day. The Germans fired everything they had at them which wasn’t much, but enough to attract their attention toward our Prison Camp. Some of the pilots dropped a few convincers to let the Jerry’s know that they had them. All this time, we were scratching for a hole to crawl in as the earth seemed as if it were going to crack. One bomb landed about 700 yards from us and that was enough to convince me that I should stay in my hole. I was so scared I couldn’t eat my soup and that’s something. Our diet consisted of soup once a day and one ration of bread which is equal to about two of our slices of bread in size but not in food value.

The Russians, Polish and French were taken out on labor parties to repair bombed-out sections of railroads and highways. While they were out, they stole supplies out of the cellars of bombed houses. We Americans would trade little things for potatoes, bread and jam. I traded my Schaffer Pen for one loaf of black bread, I met some Polishmen who could speak some English and they asked if I would teach them English. In exchange they would give me bread and potatoes, so my answer was “yes.” My English was far from good but we got along okay. They came over to our American huts as we were not allowed in their huts because the Germans were afraid we would organize the men and make a break. One of my pupils was once a dentist in Warsaw, Poland. He was taken prisoner in “The Fall of Poland.” The only way I had to explain myself as to the meaning of words was to look it up in my Polish-English dictionary; and, believe me, it was a mess, but you’d be surprised what he learned. Before he left, he could carry on a fair conversation. It was on March 30 that the last group of G.I.’s left and anyone who could walk was taken. I found it out before the German Officers came around from Wito, a French interpreter so I crawled into bed. When they came around I was a bed patient and they had no way to move bed patients. I suppose some of the fellows were mad; but if you didn’t look out for yourself, no one else would. It was stay and sweat out a few weeks or go, and maybe have to wait a few months. No, it was my move to stay and that was my only way out.

Good Friday was a hectic day – bombed from morning to night – only a few miles away and expecting every plane that went over would drop their bomb load on us.

On Easter Sunday our dinner was pea soup with horse meat. It was my second main holiday. Christmas, and now Easter I had spent in prison. Christmas dinner was pickle soup (not nearly as good as pea soup.) We had heard through the underground radio that the Yanks had landed some Paratroopers on our side of the Rhine. We knew that they were only about 25 miles away.

It was on April 10 that we knew something was coming off, as the German guards and medics put Red Cross arm bands on their arms and also destroyed weapons. We knew something was in the wind. It was about 7:30 A.M. when two American G.I.’s took off from camp to try and get through the German lines to the American lines. For several days we G.I.’s had saved particles of food so the two fellows would have some food to take with them on their journey. We didn’t know how long it would take as we didn’t know what defensive positions the Jerry’s had. We could see the muzzle blast but what was behind them we couldn’t determine. The night before they left we all said a prayer for them. They needed it for the task they were about to undertake was dangerous. There were only a few who know and saw them leave, as we wanted to keep it from the German guards as long as possible. There were a group of about 15 men that went out after some water and after they got passed the Gate, the two took off. It was an Airbourne Lt. and an Infantry Private who went, and the mission was successful. They reached a column of tanks moving north about 15 miles from Cologne up the Rhine. They attracted the attention of one tank and, for a wonder, the tank didn’t fire at them. After getting in contact with the Tank Commander, they routed six Sherman tanks our way, but the remaining tanks had a town 25 miles away. As they approached we were certain they were our tanks. The Germans were as worried as we were happy. On the other hand, we were worried as to whether it would be hot or not. All we could do was hope.

At noon we could hear small arms firing and some scattered artillery; but the closer it came, the heavier it got. About three of the guards were fit to be tied, and I don’t mean maybe. It wasn’t long before the shells were “Whizzing” overhead, and we hit the ground. For about two hours we was hot, and I do mean “Hot”. That feeling of freedom was in our hearts and we couldn’t wait to be able to write our families, eat three square meals a day, worship as we pleased, talk to people who were pleasant and understanding, live and sleep in clean, warm places with clean lines, showers, baths and recreation, radio programs and so many things we don’t miss until we are deprived of them. It was just around the corner.

At exactly 5:28 P.M. on April 12, 1945, we were free again after 116 days in imprisonment. The 13th Armored outfit liberated us. It was the happiest moment I shall probably ever know. We were so happy we shed a few tears, but I guess it was our privilege. It was now that we saw the 50 Krauts with their hands high about their heads getting the same treatment we got that December afternoon. We prisoners – 200 Americans, French, British, Polish, Russians, Serbians, Yugoslavians, Hebrews, South Africans, etc. were kept inside until we were over the first excitement. Then we were given permission to search the Germans; that is, all the Americans. I was lucky and got the German Medical Officer for my man and was it a pleasure! My one want was to get his pistol but he had destroyed it and said we couldn’t find it. I took some money, which, of course, was worthless but it was just the souvenir I wanted. I also took his shoulder insignia and the insignia off his hat. He has no watch and his boots were too small. He was so scared even his eye balls were quivering. I could feel for him; by God, I couldn’t reach him. Some G.I.’s took him over after I got through. Our next objective was the German mansion, and boy was it fun. The “Fuhrer” sure got tossed and thrown about a bit when we got there. He was hanging in every room and he came down to our level when we saw him. We broke all the glasses and plates, took bayonets, ripped the upholstered furniture all apart and smashed what furniture we could. We had to give vent to our feelings, and we sure did. I was so happy I forgot I was hurt until 2:00 the next morning when it began to pain. I got some pain pills from the medic, and was soon okay. For supper that night there was a piece of salami and some bead and cheese; and did Jack Groeuke and I have a feast. Daniel Farshone from Waterloo, N.Y. was also present. We didn’t sleep any that night and early the next morning we were put in ambulances and taken to the 5th Evacuation Post where we were deloused and given some hot chocolate and cigarettes. Our next stop was the 135th Evacuation Hospital where we were stripped and given a bath to rid us of our livestock, our wounds were dressed and then came our first meal. They told us we would be sick but it might as well be now as any time so this was our menu: boneless chicken, peas and carrots, bread and butter, cocoa, spinach, peaches and coke. Piggie Me, I went back for seconds on some things as did the rest. Oh! was it good and for an hour I felt fit as a fiddle. Then the ball started rolling or should I say, cannon ball started rolling. I began having cramps and was I sick but all they said was “We told you so!” Soon a 2nd Lt. Nurse came on and gave me something but it didn’t do much good so she came back and rubbed my tummy. “Did I Love that!” “What am I saying?” I still suffered all night, and I refused breakfast. Not three days before, I distinctly remember saying I would never refuse a meal anywhere, time or place. I couldn’t even stand the smell of food or I’d have a cramp. It wasn’t until the next evening that I ate and that was only a very little topped with an orange. On the 2nd day we were taken to an Air Evacuation Hospital where we awaited a C-47. The weather was miserable so we were delayed one day. There were 24 ambulatory patients to a plane. Our trip took about four hours. I was sick and I don’t mean maybe. It was my first plane ride and we landed in France. We were loaded into ambulance and taken to the 194th General Hospital, 5 blocks from the Eiffel Tower. One of the nurses was named “Smokie” from Penn. The hospital was once a college for young men. Paris was nice but one square acre of the U.S.A. is worth all of it. I was there only one week before we were taken to the 100th General Hospital on the outskirts of Paris to await a plane back to “Wonderland”, That fairytale, “Alice in Wonderland” sure is a wonderful land, and we shouldn’t kick about a thing. We should pay our taxes and give all we can just to live in America, but it still hurts because we, here, take our way of life for granted. On the 30th of April we climbed aboard a C-54 for home. We were to stop at the Azores and Newfoundland before arriving at LaGuardia Field in New York City. It took us 23 flying hours. A swell journey. We stayed there one day and the took a C-47 to Rhodes General Hospital

in Utica, New York.