30 April, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 578 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

30 April, 1944        0900

Sunday Morning

Good Morning, darling –

And a good morning it is, too; nine o’clock is really only 0700 because of the double summer time – but already the sun is shining brilliantly and everything outside seems so much alive. I’ve just had breakfast – there were only a few of us down, the rest were sleeping late. I haven’t shaved as yet, but I’m going to take my time. We’re supposed to have a volley-ball game on later, officers vs. enlisted men, and after that – I think the money will be here for the men’s pay – and ours, too. Another month has slipped by. This month was a good one, sweetheart, although we were actually engaged in March.

Mentioning pay reminds me that with the close of this month – the gov’t is six months late in changing my allotment to myself – and still no word from the New Jersey office where the changes are made. Our personnel office has sent out a couple of tracers – but still no word. I’m not worried because it’s on the books and it will come thru in a lump sum – eventually. In essence I’ve been getting $150.00 per month instead of $200; so I have $300.00 coming to me as of today.

Well – darling – yesterday was the third day in a row without mail – and I hope we’re not off to another one of those delays. When I don’t hear from you – I go upstairs and take out a couple of letters of yours from some time past – and it helps a great deal, too. I got another good laugh when I re-read your account of you and Ruby in downtown Boston. Every time you go to town – it’s like Alice in Wonderland; I never know what to expect. When we get to Salem, darling, I’ll show you all around the main street, point out the high curbstones, the blind crossings – and in general do my best to completely orientate you. If you have to go as far as Beverly or Marblehead or Peabody – I’ll insist on going with you. I’m only kidding, dear –

And according to your letter of April 9th – today is the day my folks are visiting yours. At least – I haven’t heard that the date was changed. Gee – it sure would be swell if I could be there and share in the general get-together. Usually I don’t like to be at things like that – particularly when I’m part of it; but you’ve done your part so admirably, sweetheart, I feel as if I should be along to help you. Anyway – I hope that all goes off well and that everyone gets along well.

Darling I’ve got to run along now. I’ve just had a call that the money has arrived and I want to pay my men before they go off on pass. They’re all ‘broke’. There’s nothing new to tell you about things here. Things are still status quo – and for the time being – that suits me. Remember, sweetheart, that I love you deeply and sincerely and whatever my present status is – it’s a temporary one and must eventually end with both of us together. Love to the folks.

All my sincerest love, darling

Greg

29 April, 1944 (to her mother)

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 578 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

29 April, 1944

Dear Mother B.

First – thanks for your swell letter which I received a couple of days ago. I like your letters for they help me to feel closer to all of you and I like that sensation.

I spend pleasant hours these days dreaming about life after the war – and what it will mean to me – and to all of us. Becoming engaged to Wilma has made so much difference in the way I can sit back and think of the future, and – well – it’s just very very pleasant food for thought.

You recall very nice memories when you mention the Copley. I do remember meeting the Shribmans – although I don’t remember the name – Gwen. I wish I were around to be congratulated – but so long as Wilma is happy about everything, I feel fully satisfied.

CLICK ON POSTCARD TO ENLARGE

Copley Plaza Hotel in Boston, 1930s

Before closing – let me substitute this letter for a card. A Happy Mother’s Day, to you – with many more – at which I hope to be present to pay you my respects as a son – in every sense of the word. Best regards to the family.

With love

Greg.

29 April, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 578 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

29 April, 1944       1045

Dearest sweetheart –

Another fresh start this morning, dear, this time from the Castle. Perhaps I can finish this in one sitting and make the letter sound a bit more connected. At the moment it is quiet here, and I’ve just been sitting by the window looking out over the back lawn and lake and thinking hard of you, darling. It’s really a continuation of my thoughts last night. I felt particularly mellow then. I was alone in my room for most of the evening – and as usual – I got to thinking of home, and you, and us and I felt so nice about everything. It’s really paradoxical, dear, how I can feel so contented about things, and yet be in the Army and 3000 miles from those I love. I guess it’s because I feel so certain that everything will work out so well for us once I get back. It is absolutely the most satisfying and comforting feeling imaginable to realize that I have you to come home to, – a sweetheart, a fiancée, a girl who loves me as I love her – who wants to be married to me and is willing to wait for me. Well, darling, I just can’t tell you what that all means to me. Only after the war, when we’re married and alone, when we’re sitting around of an evening relaxing – then I’ll close my eyes, sit close to you with my arms around you and think back to these days in England. I’ll tell you then what I used to think on these quiet nights; I’ll tell you what the knowledge of your love meant for me, and how the war and separation were tolerable to me because of what I knew was in store for me when I finally got home.

I have no fear or apprehension of what may lie ahead because my mind seems to transcend that and jumps beyond it, and even when the immediate future becomes the present – I won’t be living in the present – but only in our future. And I owe all this ability to you, sweetheart. And again I say I’m thankful –

It didn’t get dark last night until 2230 and soon it will be 2300 and more before it gets dark outside. It is most peculiar – and quite difficult to think of going to bed. If it weren’t for the shutters that we have for black-out – I don’t know what we would do. And it gets light out very early too. I awaken each morning to the sound of cuck-coos (if that’s the way you spell it) right outside my window. I don’t recall ever hearing that bird in the States. There are many of them here and their notes are soft and musical. The whole countryside is really beautiful here and I know what they meant when they wrote about England in the Spring. It really has something.

Well, darling, I’m afraid I didn’t write much in the line of news – but the truth is – there isn’t any. The only news I’m interested in is you, anyway, and that’s the way it will always be. I’ll close now, dear. Love to the folks – and to you

All my love, sweetheart

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about The Cuckoo

Greg mentioned listening to the cuckoos each morning, saying that their notes are soft and musical.

In his book Say Goodbye to the Cuckoo, Michael McCarthy speaks of the cuckoo's place in the lives of its citizenry:

"In two or three weeks' time, you should be hearing it if you get out into the countryside – the unmistakable two-note call, perhaps the most distinctive sound in all of the natural world, that tells you spring is well and truly under way. Even people who have never heard the real thing know the call of the cuckoo.

It's partly its sheer musicality, for those two abrupt, liquid notes – cuck-coo! – form an exact musical interval in a way hardly any other bird calls do: it is a descending minor third. At its simplest, in the key of C major, it is G to E. (And C major, you may be interested to learn, is a favourite cuckoo key.)

It's partly also its ethereal, disembodied nature. The cuckoo is a shy, secretive bird. You don't often glimpse it, you simply hear it, so you can't see where the call is coming from; but it also has a sort of ventriloquial quality, so you can't hear where it's coming from, either. It doesn't seem to come from anywhere. It exists, disembodied, in the landscape, in a quite magical way, captured by Wordsworth, who called it "the wandering voice". Put them together – perfect musicality and a mysterious, floating resonance – and you have something unique: there is nothing else like the wandering voice in nature. And when, down the years, it was paired, as an aural signal, with the eagerly awaited change of the turning year, the coming of spring, it's not an exaggeration to say that in Europe it became one of the most significant, evocative sounds in human life. It produced a stream of folklore in every country, sayings and stories, proverbs and legends; it inspired composer after composer, from Handel in his The Cuckoo and the Nightingale to Beethoven in his Pastoral Symphony, to Saint-Saëns in his Carnival of the Animals, to Delius with On Hearing the First Cuckoo in Spring.

In Britain, it was firing musical imaginations more than six centuries before Frederick Delius; the cuckoo inspired the oldest extant song in English, "Sumer is icumen in" (with its rousing chorus of "Lhude sing cuccu!") written in about 1250, probably by a monk in Reading Abbey. And in this country it did still more: it triggered what is perhaps the most celebrated newspaper correspondence in history, the "first cuckoo" letters to The Times, those succinct missives from gentlemen who, for a century or so, from about 1840 to 1940, laid claim to being the first to hear the double note echo across the woods and fields in any given year. These engaging pronouncements – sometimes challenged, sometimes topped by rivals – are evidence above all of the real elation produced by hearing the call, the supreme signal of the soft days coming again and the burgeoning of new life, usually in the first two weeks of April. From about the 10th onward, say. A typical date would be 14 April. Two or three weeks from now, you should be hearing it."

28 April, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 578 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

28 April, 1944       1010

My dearest fiancée –

I am now at the Dispensary, the most difficult place to write a letter, by the way, but since I am free for the moment, I decided to start writing now. Usually things get busy.

1140

See what I mean, dear? I didn’t finish the above sentence, when our new chaplain dropped into the Dispensary to make a social call. When he left, it was time to come back to the Castle and here I am again. It’s lovely out again, though a bit cooler than yesterday. Charlie et al are not back yet, so I’m still somewhat more alone than usual. Yesterday was a rather quiet day and evening. After dinner I did a little reading – medical journals – and listened to the radio. There was no mail at all for me, but I didn’t mind as much as I used to because I know there’s some mail on the way and I know you’re my true sweetheart and fiancée to boot – and when I think those things over, I feel so good that I can overlook the lapse.

This morning my eye is definitely on the mend and the assortment of colors is starting to disappear. There never was any pain associated with it – and since the cosmetic factor has no value over here to me – I didn’t mind the thing at all.

You mention a Porter girl – a student nurse at the B.I. I don’t seem to recall her although it does seem to me I had a couple of patients by that name. Anyway, as long as she had something nice to say about me, I’m satisfied. It’s too bad you don’t hear some bad things about me too, because you’ll find, darling, that some patients didn’t think I was so ‘hot’. Anyway, I’m glad I have some friends back in Salem and I am glad that you do have confidence in me. With that, I know I’ll do so well and I don’t have the slightest fear about my ability to come back, start practicing, work like hell and get a decent following of patients. And I know darn well that you’ll be a great help to me too! Dinner bell –

1235

Hello darling –

I hate to write you interrupted letters but I sometimes just don’t seem to have one solid hour without interruption. I guess you got an idea about interruptions that night at the Seder at my house – from what you wrote. I’m not that busy now – but I do remember some irritable evenings when I’d just get ready to take it easy and things would start popping. And the worst part of it was that you might have spent a very quiet and unbusy day. Oh well – just trying to scare you a bit, dear!

Well – honey chile – I’ve got to get started back. Someone I have to see is to be at the Dispensary at 1315 and it’s about a 12 minute walk. I hope I hear from you today, dear – but in any case, I’ll try not to mind. Solong for now, Sweetheart and be well.

All my love forever, dear

Greg

P.S. Love to the folks,

Love

G.

P.P.S. I tried to get some Mother’s Day cards. They
don’t have them here – And Mother’s day in England
is the Sunday before Easter.

Love

G.

* TIDBIT *

about Operation Tiger
Part II

CLICK ON PICTURE TO ENLARGE... It's spectacular!

Slapton Sands

"Tiger", under the command of US Navy Rear Admiral Don Pardee Moon, was one of several assault rehearsals conducted at Slapton Sands on the Devon coast. So vital was the exercise that the commanders had ordered the use of live naval and artillery ammunition to make the exercise as real as possible so as to accustom the soldiers to what they were soon going to experience. As mentioned in Part I about Operation Tiger, the exercise "landings" were begun during the morning of April 27. Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower, supreme commander of Operation Overlord (Allied code for the invasion itself), was aboard an observers’ ship on April 27, when Exercise Tiger first went terribly wrong— failed air cover, late landing craft, confusion on the beachhead. Amphibious tanks heading to shore, misfired their guns and wounded soldiers on the beach. At least one of the tanks sank in choppy seas while its frantic crew managed to escape. Furious, Eisenhower returned to his headquarters, deeply worried about what the exercise augured for D-Day. Worse was yet to come as the unloading continued during that day and the next, when a follow up convoy was expected.

The follow-up convoy consisted of two sections from two different ports. The Plymouth section, LST Group 32, was composed of USS LST-515, USS LST-496, USS LST-511, USS LST-531, and USS LST-58, which was towing two pontoon causeways. The Brixham section consisted of USS LST-499, USS LST-289, and USS LST-507. The convoy joined with HMS Azalea as escort and proceeded at six knots in one column with the LSTs in the same order as listed above.

Meanwhile, at a little after 10pm on the night of 27th of April, a group of nine German E-boats set out on a normal reconnaissance mission from their base in Cherbourg into the Lyme Bay area, under the command of Kapitain zur See Rudolf Petersen.

Kapitain zur See Rudolf Petersen

From the French mainland Kapitan zur see Petersen radioed the bearing of a possible target at 2317 hours and the E-boats of the 5th Flotilla split up into pairs for the attack. They followed the usual channel route without any sign of a convoy or 'enemy’ ships. As they headed towards the Lyme Bay area, they suddenly came in visual contact with the LST convoy. Since they could not see any naval escorts, they quickly positioned themselves for a torpedo attack.

As the convoy approached Lyme Bay it was maneuvering a loop to head back towards the shore. It was here that the E-boats made contact and opened fire. No warning of the presence of enemy boats had been received when LST 507 was torpedoed a few mintues after 2am, hitting its auxiliary engine room and cutting all electric power. The ship burst into flames. Gasoline aboard LST-507 exploded and set the ship afire. The fire fighting attempted by the crew proved futile as most of the fire fighting equipment was inoperative due to the power failure. After about 45 minutes or so the survivors of the attack were ordered to abandon ship.

LST 531 was hit by two torpedoes shortly after LST 507 was hit. LST-531 capsized and sank within six minutes. Trapped below decks hundreds of soldiers and sailors went down with the ships. There was little time to launch lifeboats and some of the lifeboats were jammed. Many men leapt into the sea. Several minutes later LST 289, which opened fire at the E-boats, was torpedoed. However LST 289 managed to limp back to shore but only after suffering a number of deaths and casualties of its men aboard. The E-boats used smoke and high speed to escape.

LST 289 after the attack

Senior officers ashore, quickly assessing the damage, ordered the five surviving LSTs to continue steaming toward Dartmouth, their destination. Capt. John Doyle, commanding officer of LST-515, the lead ship, disobeyed the order. He turned back to look for survivors. “We started looking for the ones who were still alive:’ Brent Wahlberg, 515 gunnery officer, remembers. “We found 132 survivors.” Many of the dead, they noticed, were floating head down, feet up, with their life belts inflated. No one had told them that the life belts were to be worn under the armpits, not around the waist, and their heavy backpacks had pulled their heads under the cold water. That lesson from Exercise Tiger would be taught to invasion troops, saving countless lives. Others succumbed to hypothermia in the cold water. In all 749 American soldiers and sailors died that night, 946 in total during Exercise Tiger. In hindsight the casualty list was three times that which ‘U’ Force (VII Corps) would suffer on Utah beach on D-Day. Unfortunately, three months later Rear Admiral Moon shot himself. People close to him said he never got over the disaster at Slapton Sands.

Rear Admiral Don Pardee Moon

The German victory led to further panic at SHAEF. It was discovered that ten officers missing had BIGOT (Access to Operation Overlord plans) security clearance. They did not know the date of the invasion; no one did at this stage. However, anyone with BIGOT clearance would have access to the location of the invasion, landing beaches and probably a whole host of other information that would be of use to the enemy. The German boats had closed on where the LST’s had sunk and switched on their searchlights, presumably to look for survivors. It was assumed they might have taken prisoners, which was later discovered to be the case. A vast fishing fleet mobilized in Lyme Bay to trawl for dead bodies from the attack. Although many bodies were never recovered all ten of the 'Bigots' were found floating in their life jackets.

Meanwhile, orders went out imposing the strictest secrecy on all who knew or might learn of the tragedy, including doctors and nurses who treated the survivors. There was no point in letting the enemy know what he had accomplished, least of all in affording any clue that might link Slapton Sands to Utah Beach. Nobody ever lifted that order of secrecy, for by the time D-Day had passed, the units subject to the order had scattered. Quite obviously, in any case, the order no longer had any legitimacy particularly after Gen. Eisenhower's Supreme Headquarters, Allied Expeditionary Force, in July 1944 issued a press release telling of the tragedy. Notice of it was printed, among other places, in the soldier newspaper, Stars and Stripes.

The following is the recollection of LT Eugene E. Eckstam, MC, USNR, (Ret.), a medical officer on USS LST-507 when it was struck, adapted from: "The Tragedy of Exercise Tiger," Navy Medicine 85, no. 3 (May-Jun 1994), pp 5-7:

When our medical unit reported back to LST-507 [after a training elsewhere], it was in Brixham and had loaded some 290 Army personnel. The tank deck held 22 DUKWs (amphibious trucks) with jeeps and trucks topside, all chained to the deck and fully fueled. Army troops were everywhere.

Loading occurred 24 April 1944. We and two other LSTs sailed from Brixham on the afternoon of 27 April to join five LSTs coming from Plymouth. Only recently I found that our British escort had been warned about E-boats in the area, but the U.S. forces had not been given the correct radio channel to monitor. We sailed along in fatal ignorance.

General Quarters rudely aroused us about 0130. I remember hearing gunfire and saying they had better watch where they were shooting or someone would get hurt. At 0203 I was stupidly trying to go topside to see what was going on and suddenly "BOOM!" There was a horrendous noise accompanied by the sound of crunching metal and dust everywhere. The lights went out and I was thrust violently in the air to land on the steel deck on my knees, which became very sore immediately thereafter. Now I knew how getting torpedoed felt. But I was lucky.

The torpedo hit amidships starboard in the auxiliary engine room, knocking out all electric and water power. We sat and burned. A few casualties came into the wardroom for care and, since there was ample help, I checked below decks aft to be sure no one required medical attention there. All men in accessible areas had gone topside.

The tank deck was a different matter. As I opened the hatch, I found myself looking into a raging inferno which pushed me back. It was impossible to enter. The screams and cries of those many Army troops in there still haunt me. Navy regulations call for dogging the hatches to preserve the integrity of the ship, and that's what I did.

Until the fire got so hot we were forced to leave the ship at 0230, we watched the most spectacular fireworks ever. Gas cans and ammunition exploding and the enormous fire blazing only a few yards away are sights forever etched in my memory.

Ship's company wore life jackets, but the medics and Army personnel had been issued inflatable belts. We were told only to release the snaps and squeeze the handles to inflate. Climbing down a cargo net, I settled into the 42 degree F. water, gradually getting lower as the life belt rose up to my arm pits. The soldiers that jumped or dove in with full packs did not do well. Most were found with their heads in the water and their feet in the air, top heavy from not putting the belts around their chests before inflating them. Instructions in their correct use had never been given.

I recall only brief moments of hearing motors, of putting a knee on a small boat ramp, and then "awakening" half way up a Jacobs ladder. I was on the only American ship, LST 515, to rescue survivors. This was at dawn, about 0600. I had been in the water over 2 hours fully dressed and insulated. Those that had stripped to swim, only God knows where they died. Drowning and hypothermia were the two major causes of death. I often wonder if many "dead" victims were really in a state of hibernation, and what would have happened had we been able to immerse them in warm tubs. But who ever heard of a tub on an LST in wartime? We couldn't even do a reliable physical exam under the circumstances.

Both dead and alive were taken to Portland. The dead went on to Brookwood Cemetery near London where they were buried individually. The rumor of mass graves is false. We got dry clothes, courtesy of the American Red Cross and then an exam at an Army field hospital in Sherborne.

Lessons were learned although the appalling loss of life had little or no compensating benefit to the allied landings at Normandy. However, recommendations for the D-Day invasion included:

using larger escort forces if available,

the need for rescue craft during any large scale landing,

ensuring that vital information on enemy contacts was disseminated quickly,

introducing standard procedures and special communication circuits for each Operation including the use of the same radio wavelengths,

reinforcing the message for all hands not to look at flares or fires ... to do so reduced ability to see objects in the dark,

limiting the amount of fuel carried to that needed for the operation itself to reduce combustible material and thereby fire risk,

making rifles and pistols more generally available to fire on E-boats when they paced close aboard especially when guns could not depress sufficiently,

making life boats and life rafts as near ready for lowering as possible,

illumination rockets to help slow moving large ships locate E-boats in darkness,

improving fire fighting equipment including the installation of manually operated pumps for LSTs and other ships carrying large amounts of inflammable material,

providing training in the use of the kapok life preserver jacket in preference to the CO2 single type. The former was more effective in keeping heads above water, and

loosening boot laces where an order to abandon ship seemed likely to make it easier to remove heavy waterlogged boots in the water.

The following is some rare footage of drills at Slapton Sands.

27 April, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 578 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

27 April, 1944       1100

Dearest darling –

I just got back from the Dispensary. It’s beautiful out today, warm and hazy, and it sure would be swell to go for a long walk or bike ride with you, but that will have to wait a bit. This month has slipped by very fast for me, I don’t know exactly why – but probably because of our engagement and receiving some swell letters.

Speaking of letters, I got a dandy from Mother B – yesterday p.m.  Considering the little time I had to get to know your folks it’s amazing how close I feel to them – but it’s no doubt due to the fact that they make me feel that way. Anyway I’m tickled that I do feel that way, and I know that when I return it will be the easiest thing in the world to be a member of your family in every sense of the word.

It is natural to wonder how you and I will seem to each other. I have been away longer, already, than the time I actually went with you –but I don’t have the slightest qualm about us. Our continued correspondence has kept us very close together and it won’t necessarily be a question of making up the interval. I feel that we’ll just take up from where we left off in our last letters and continue from there. I must admit though, darling, that as fertile as my imagination can sometimes be, I get completely lost and bewildered when I think in terms of arriving in some eastern port and wiring or calling for you. I get that far – and I get mixed up on what follows; mixed up only because I know my emotions from that time on will be at a bursting level. The thought of the moment when I see you again, rush to you, hug and kiss you and know that I’m back to stay with you for the rest of our natural lives – well, sweetheart – that thought is what even my imagination fails to give me clearly enough. I suppose it’s better that way –

Well, where was I, dear? It doesn’t matter, though – ‘cause I’m happier when I’m dreaming – and I was just dreaming. My eye, by the way, isn’t too bad. It’s merely a purple-red color – just over the eye and the swelling is practically nil. The reverend has called a couple of times to see how I was doing. He really felt worse than I did – as is usually the case.

Oh – yesterday I got the first congratulatory message from Salem – from Barbara Tucker – who wasn’t too surprised, she wrote, because she gathered lots – from my letters. Anyway – she’s sorry she didn’t meet you last summer and says she’ll “give you the once-over” later on. She’s a good kid and I think you’ll like her – even if she is Smith!

Darling – I’ve got to eat now. Everything’s fine here except for our being apart and someday that won’t be. Until then, Sweetheart, know that I love you dearly and sincerely – and that I think only of you.

All my love

Greg

P.S Love to the folks

Love

G

26 April, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 578 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

26 April, 1944        1030

Dearest sweetheart –

I’ve just completed sick-call, kitchen inspection and a couple of other details – and practically speaking, I’m through for the day. What a job! I’m back at the castle and when I’m through writing you, dear, all I have to do is straighten out my room a bit and clean the fireplace. Although the weather has continued to be Spring-like, the castle is a chilly place and central heating has been discontinued. Consequently a fireplace is mighty comfortable most evenings.

Yesterday I played squash in the p.m. with the Rev. and Mr. Westlake who is a physical director of the School – and plays a good game by the way. One of the games was interrupted by a smart crack over the eye which none other than I received from a racquet wielded by the Reverend. Boy – I saw stars! Don’t worry, dear, it was nothing serious. I was rushing in for a shot which I anticipated was going into the corner. The Rev. swung backhand and clipped me. I now have the makings of a beautiful shiner, – one each, left – English style – as the Army would catalogue it. Of course I told everybody I was attacked by no less than 6 (six) G.I.’s and only one of them touched me.

Other than that – the p.m. was quite uneventful. On return to the Castle – what do you suppose was waiting for me – but a letter from you, darling, and post-marked April 20!!! Great balls – but if that isn’t wonderful, I don’t know what is! Why it’s almost like being in the States. When I was in Carolina – the mail sometimes took as much as five days from Massachusetts. You had written the letter on the 19th – and gosh that was just a little while ago.

You bet we’ll have a dog, Sweetheart, although until you get them grown – they require care. But I think they add warmth to a house, home or apartment. Of course kids do too – and so we’ll have to have them.

By the way, dear, I meant to ask you before; isn’t there a new air-mail rate? I notice you use a 6 cents stamp. It seems to me I read some time ago that the rate was going up. There’s nothing been said here about it.

You mention going to lunch with Verna. I think you mentioned it once before, dear. How do you find her anyway? And just what do you think she thinks about us? You remember Stan had rightly or wrongly inferred that Irv and Verna thought we weren’t exactly suited. I wonder what they really think. As a couple – I like them both – and I’ve always liked Irv – individually, too. Incidentally – one or the other of them owes me a letter.

One more thing, Sweetheart, please don’t feel that I’m being cheated in any way because I’m not around to enjoy your happiness – our happiness. I love you enough, darling, to get happiness out of just reading of yours. You’ve made me happy in becoming my fiancée – and I don’t forget it for a moment. I’m nowhere near as lonesome as I used to be – because I have such concrete things to think about that I didn’t have before. No – I’m not cheated, darling. I’m thankful for what I have and for what I hope to have – years of happiness with you, sweetheart.

That’s all for now, dear. I hope my mail is reaching you regularly and rapidly, too. Best love to the folks and

My love is forever yours –

Greg.

* TIDBIT *

about Operation Tiger
Part I

In preparing for the Normandy Invasion, the United States Army conducted various training exercises at Slapton Sands in Start Bay and in the nearby Tor Bay on the Southwestern coast of England, beginning on December 15, 1943. Slapton was an unspoiled beach of coarse gravel, fronting a shallow lagoon that was backed by bluffs that resembled Omaha Beach. After the people in the nearby village were evacuated, it was an almost perfect place to simulate the Normandy landings. Here are some villagers recollections of the evacuation, as told by Norman Wills, copied exactly from BBC's WW2 People's War:

In November 1943 my Father received a letter from the Admiralty telling us that we had to give up our home. One usually thinks of children being evacuated without their families, however, in our case the whole family was evacuated with everything we possessed, furniture, sheds and even the chickens! Although we only moved a few miles it had a great effect on us and our whole village of Chillington in South Devonshire.

We moved eight miles away to share a house in the village of Aveton Gifford. We had no real idea why we had to move, except perhaps, that our village and others near Start Bay were to be used as a military practice area.

American military vehicles soon began rolling through Aveton Gifford on their way from Plymouth to Start Bay and thousands of American soldiers marched through in single file on each side of the road. When they sawchildren the Americans would sometimes stop and make pancakes and we would beg them for some “Gum Chum”, but the Americans marching through the village often wanted bread and they would give us as much as 2/6d (12 ½ p), a lot of money, as a 2 lb loaf of bread only cost 5d (2p). To us the Americans seemed very well off and we envied their canned food, but, as we were in the country we managed to get enough fresh food and sometimes even Devonshire clotted cream on Sundays.

CLICKON PICTURE TO ENLARGE

Slapton Sands, Devon, UK

TIGER was the code name of the training exercise for the Utah Beach assault forces under Admiral Don P. Moon. It was held from April 22-30, 1944. The invasion training was long and thorough. The culmination of the joint training program was a pair of full scale rehearsals in late April and early May, involving 30,000 soldiers and two assault forces.

The troops and equipment embarked on the same ships and for the most part from the same ports from which they would later leave for France. Six of the days in the exercise were taken up by the marshaling of the troops and the embarkation of the landing craft.

The convoy of ships set sail from local ports, including Dartmouth and Plymouth with escorts provided by the Royal Navy. HMS Scimitar, a destroyer, was to take the lead and a corvette, HMS Azalea, bring up the rear. The first signs of anything going wrong was that HMS Scimitar was rammed and holed by another vessel and was ordered to remain in port. Nobody thought to inform the commander of the exercise of this fact. The convoy started without an escort and the corvette, HMS Azalea, had no radio contact with the Landing Craft - it was not deemed necessary! A typing error in the frequencies has come to light as a probable cause for the ships not having the same information.

During the night of April 26-27, 1944, the main force proceeded through Lyme Bay with mine craft sweeping ahead of them as if crossing the channel. German E-boats, which were high-speed torpedo boats capable of operating at speeds of 34-36 knots, sometimes patrolled the channel at night. Because of this, the British Commander in Chief, who was responsible for protecting the rehearsal, threw patrols across the mouth of Lyme Bay. These patrols consisted of two destroyers, three motor torpedo boats and two motor gunboats. Another motor torpedo patrol was sent to watch Cherbourg, the main ports where the German E-boats were based. Following the "bombardment" on Slapton Sands, the exercise "landings" were begun during the morning of April 27. Landing craft were used to deploy the soldiers, and their equipment, onto the beaches. Meanwhile, along the Atlantic Wall in France, German listening posts picked up prolific signals emanating from American forces in the Southwest of England. They were listening in on Operation Tiger.

25 April, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 578 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

25 April, 1944       0725

Good Morning, sweetheart –

Well – today is a sort of key date also. I associate it with Thanksgiving day and you know what significance that has for me. I can hardly believe that so much time has elapsed and it just proves that humans can take things in stride if they have to.

I’ve just finished my breakfast, dear, and since I’m a bit early for the Dispensary I thought I’d jot down a few lines. Charlie left early this morning for a few days with some of the others – so I’ll be able to take it a bit easier for a short while. As a matter of fact I have a date to play squash with Reverend Bell this p.m. He’s turned out to be a pretty swell guy, by the way. His wife has been very friendly, too. They called me Sunday and invited me to tea. I was quite busy most of the day – as I wrote you – but I managed to get over there between 1600 and 1700. When you’re invited for tea – you are supposed to go. I don’t know how much I’ve told you about the Bells. He did missionary work in Rhodesia, West Africa – where he met his wife. It was because of an illness – that they had to leave Africa. He then came here to take the job as chaplain of the school. They have the nicest little house imaginable with a large surrounding garden – entirely closed by a high wall. Tea is served in the garden and we’ve had some delightful chats.

Well, darling, it’s close to “eight-ish” – as the English insist on saying and that means I’ve got to go do to sick-call. See you later kid –

1045

Hello darling –

I just got back to the Castle and came up here to my room – where it’s nice and quiet for a change and I can concentrate on you and tell you I love you and think hard about you. Our room is down a long corridor at one end of a wing, but there’s always someone coming in or out of it and rarely less than 4-5 fellows in it. I enjoy that, of course, but once in a while you like to be alone and quiet.

In one of your recent letters, darling you mention the ‘story’ I once gave your mother on love, etc. I’ve often thought about that and wondered how you or your mother ever came to believe me when I said I really loved you. The fact is, darling, I still feel that successful love and consequently marriage is based upon more than pure emotion and that’s the basic point I tried to make. I know, dear, that our love will be balanced by so many things that we like about each other. It is not just love, per se. I know you know what I mean and that you cannot misinterpret me – because I love with emotion, too, of course; I’ve always felt that I wanted more than that – and in you, my darling fiancée, I’m attaining what I’ve always desired – and for that I’m thankful. With our love for each other as a foundation, plus our other mutual interests – we’re going to have a happy, interesting life and who could ask for anything more?

I sometimes grow so impatient about the slowness of things here, darling, that it is almost unbearable – but on the other hand, I have so little to complain about – I shut up my thoughts and I feel a little better. But I have only one goal and thought and that is to get back home to you and marry you as soon as this thing is over – and it just can’t last forever! That’s all for now sweetheart; remember, dear, that I miss you terribly and always will when you’re not near me –

Love to the folks.

All my love, darling

Greg.

Regards from both Pete and Charlie.

Love

G.