02 November 1944

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

2 November, 1944        1530

Dearest sweetheart –

First let me apologize for not writing you yesterday; it was the first day I missed in a long long time – but I just couldn’t get to it. As you know – if you’ve received my letter of 31 October, dear, I’m with one of the batteries and I was busy all day. Part of the day consisted in my going back to Verviers, Belgium – but I couldn’t get into any of the stores to look around because it was All Saint’s Day or some such thing – and everything was closed.

I’ve been inspecting all a.m. and have more to do. I’m supposed to go back to battalion tonight but I think I’ll sleep over here because I won’t get through before dark – and we just don’t like traveling in the dark – around here. If I’m free tonite – I’ll try to write you, darling – otherwise I’ll write you more tomorrow. I’m closing now because the battery mail clerk is here and will take this back to battalion for mailing; Otherwise I’ll lose a day. So – so long for now, sweetheart, love to the folks – and

All my sincerest love

Greg.

* TIDBIT *

about Medics on the Line

Extracted from the U.S. Army's AMEDD Center of History and Heritage (ACHH) web site comes "The Fight for the Huertgen Forest: Hard Fighting at the West Wall" as extracted from United States Army in World War II, The Technical Services, The Medical Department: Medical Service in the European Theater of Operations, by Graham A. Cosmas and Albert E. Cowdrey, U.S. Army Center of Military History, Washington, D.C., 1992.

Divisional unit detachments (such as Greg's) and medical battalions at the forward end of the evacuation chain collected casualties under fire, stabilized their condition, and started them toward safety and healing in the rear. Increasingly, by late 1944, the latter function - evacuation - was becoming the primary one for all medical personnel forward of the clearing stations. By army policy, medics confined treatment to the bare minimum needed to fit casualties for immediate further transportation: controlling bleeding, pain, and infection; immobilizing broken limbs; and administering plasma.

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE

Medical treatment of wounded soldiers began even before they reached their battalion aid stations. Casualties received first aid at or near the spot on the battlefield where they were injured, administered either by themselves and their buddies or, much more often, by their company aidmen. Each soldier carried an individual first aid packet, containing field dressings and sulfa powder and tablets, and was supposed to know how to improvise and apply splints and tourniquets. First aid procedures called for a wounded man, if able, to seek protection from fire, examine his injury and assess its severity, sprinkle it with sulfa powder, apply a dressing, and swallow his sulfa tablets. Then he was to get back to the aid station on his own or call for the aidman.

In practice, a large proportion of the wounded forgot to do, or not do, any number of these things. Of casualties polled in COMZ (Communications Zone) general hospitals, for example, about one-third did not take their sulfa pills before they reached the aid station, claiming that they lacked water to wash them down; doubted the tablets' usefulness; or were incapacitated by their injuries. Soldiers often did not have their belt first aid packets on their persons when hit. "They'd take them off," an aidman reported, "for example to be more comfortable in a fox hole, and we'll usually find the belts [and packets] lying close by." Hurt, frightened soldiers yelled frantically for the aidman even when only slightly wounded and capable of leaving the field under their own power. Many, in panic, further injured themselves, at times fatally. A company aidman recalled the actions of a lieutenant.

He got hit and just had a little bit of gut hanging out and he sits up and lies down and hollers and thinks he is going to die and we fix him up but he's still excited and pretty soon air gets in and he dies. That same day there's a Jerry with all his guts hanging out. He puts his hand down there and holds it in. We get him to the aid station and we hear later that the son-of-a-bitch still lives. He just held it there and didn't get excited.

Fortunately, comparatively few wounded men - only one in five, according to one hospital survey - had to give themselves first aid. Most found a company aidman at their sides within less than half an hour of being hit. Besides bandaging, splinting, applying tourniquets, administering sulfa powder and tablets, and injecting morphine, aidmen were supposed to fill out an emergency medical tag (EMT) for each casualty, providing the basic record of his identity and initial treatment. Many divisions in practice transferred this chore to the battalion aid stations, for the company medics, amid the urgency and danger of combat, were hardly in an ideal position to do paper work. Company aidmen had a deserved reputation for bravery but they complained that some of their heroics were unnecessary, the result of panic calls for help by the slightly injured or of poor judgment by line officers in sending out their medics under fire. One medic commented: "If a man is hit, he's hit, and it may be better to leave him there for a while than to send the aid man to him on a suicide job for example, I've seen it done when mortars were pounding the area and every foot was covered with [machine-gun] fire."

Most demands for courage on the part of aidmen, however, were legitimate and essential to their mission, and the medics responded with dedication and self-sacrifice. During the Third Army fighting along the Moselle, for example, Technician 5th Class Alfred L. Wilson, a company aidman in the 328th Infantry, moved about under heavy shelling treating his unit's many wounded until badly hurt himself. He refused evacuation and, in great pain and slowly bleeding to death, continued dragging himself from one casualty to the next. Finally too weak to move, he instructed other soldiers in giving first aid until unconsciousness overcame him. His unit credited Wilson, who received a posthumous Medal of Honor, with helping to save the lives of at least ten men. A 4th Division captain reported of another aidman in the Huertgen Forest who similarly stayed on duty after being injured: "This man was perhaps an even greater morale aid than a physical aid" to the hard-pressed riflemen around him.

Not surprisingly, in the light of such performance, aidmen were among the most popular and respected soldiers in their companies. Aidmen and infantry troops alike bitterly resented the War Department refusal-based on the need to maintain the medics' Geneva Convention noncombatant status-to grant eligible enlisted medics the Combat Infantryman Badge and the ten dollars a month extra pay that went with it. In some ETO divisions riflemen collected money from their own wages to give their aidmen the combat bonus. The War Department, however, did not remedy this inequity until barely two months before V-E Day. Medical Department soldiers - mostly aidmen and litter bearers - did collect their share of decorations for valor. Four ETO enlisted medics besides Wilson received Medals of Honor; hundreds of others won Silver or Bronze Stars.

In the judgment of doctors farther to the rear, aidmen and front-line troops gave generally competent first aid, although they made a few persistent errors. Soldiers-whether medical or nonmedical-regularly misused tourniquets. They applied them unnecessarily; left them unloosened for too long; and occasionally evacuated patients with tourniquets concealed by blankets or clothing, and hence not discovered until the limb was doomed. Trying to prevent such abuses, the Seventh Army surgeon directed that the "sole indication" for applying a tourniquet should be "active spurting hemorrhage from a major artery" and that medics in the field or at battalion aid stations should note the presence of a tourniquet on a patient's EMT in capital letters.

With the morphine Syrette then in use, aidmen easily could overdose casualties, especially in cold weather when slow blood circulation delayed absorption of the initial shot and the patient received more at an aid or collecting station. To guard against such mistakes, front-line medics who did not fill out EMTs often attached their used morphine Syrettes to soldiers' clothing before evacuating them. In the First Army the surgeon, Colonel Rogers, recommended abandonment of the practice of sprinkling sulfa powder on open fresh wounds as an anti-infection precaution. Combined with the taking of sulfa pills, this treatment resulted in excessive doses, and it also made wounds generally dirtier without reaching the deepest portions most in need of prophylaxis.

01 November 1944

No letter today. Just this:

* TIDBIT *

about "Objective: Schmidt"

[CLICK ON MAPS TO ENLARGE]

The Aachen Front
1 November 1944

This has been excerpted from the U.S. Army in World War II: Special Studies chapter including the battle for Schmidt by Charles B. MacDonald.

By October 1944, the First United States Army in Western Europe had ripped two big holes in the Siegfried Line, at Aachen and east of Roetgen. Having captured Aachen, the army was next scheduled to cross the Roer River and reach the Rhine. It planned to make its main effort toward Duren in the zone of VII Corps south and east of Aachen and thence toward Bonn on the Rhine. But east of Roetgen, where the 9th Infantry Division had breached the Siegfried Line and parts of the Huertgen Forest, V Corps was first to launch a limited flank operation. The 28th Infantry Division, under the command of Major General Norman D. Cota, was ordered to make the V Corps attack; its initial objective was to be the crossroads town of Schmidt, close to the center of the above map.

Schmidt was an important objective. Lying on a ridge overlooking the upper Roer River, it also afforded a view of the Schwammenauel Dam, an important link in a series of Roer dams which the Germans might blow at any time. The rush of flood waters thus unleashed would isolate any attack which had crossed the Roer in the Aachen vicinity. Located in the rear of the main Siegfried Line defenses in the area, Schmidt was an important road center for supply of enemy forces. The capture of Schmidt would enable the 28th Division to advance to the southwest and attack the enemy's fortified line facing Monschau from the rear, while a combat command of the 5th Armored Division hit the line frontally. Thus V Corps could complete the mission assigned by First Army - clearing the enemy from its area south to the Roer River on a line with the Monschau-Roer River dams. In enemy hands the Roer dams remained a constant threat to any major drive across the Roer downstream to the north.

The Schmidt operation was expected to accomplish four things: gain maneuver space and additional supply routes for the VII Corps attack to the north; protect VII Corps' right flank from counter-attack; prepare the ground for a later attack to seize the Roer River dams; and attract reserves from Germany's VII Corps, thus preventing their employment against First Army's main effort.

28th Division Objectives
2 November 1944
[Note: Hahn, where Greg's HQ was located,
is in the upper left corner]

Two important considerations influenced the planners of the Schmidt operation. First, air support could isolate the battlefield from large-scale intervention of enemy reserves, especially armored reserves. Thus the Schmidt action would remain an infantry action since crossing tanks over the Kall River was a doubtful possibility. The air task, extremely formidable because it involved neutralization of a number of Roer River bridges - and bridges are a difficult target for air - was assigned to the IX Tactical Air Command of the Ninth Air Force. Second, artillery support could deny the enemy the advantages of the dominating Brandenberg-Bergstein ridge. While the planners displayed great concern about enemy observation from this ridge, V Corps had too few troops to assign the ridge as a ground objective. Neutralization of the ridge by artillery would require almost constant smoking of approximately five miles and still could not be expected to eliminate the most forward enemy observation. But neutralization by artillery was apparently the only available solution.

The artillery plan called for conventional fires on known and suspected enemy locations, installations, and sensitive points, the bulk of them in the Huertgen area to the north. The preparation was to begin at H minus 60 minutes all along the V Corps front and the southern portion of the VII Corps front to conceal as long as possible the specific location of the attack. At H minus 15 minutes, fires were to shift to local preparation, and after H Hour fires were to be supporting, chiefly prepared fires on call from the infantry. Since weather limited air observation before the attack, counter-battery fires were based primarily on sound and flash recordings, which could not be considered accurate because of unfavorable weather and wooded, compartmented terrain. Ammunition was limited but considered adequate, and antitank defense was also included in the artillery plan. Artillery units were located in the general area of Zweifall-Roett-Roetgen, from which all expected targets would be within effective range.

When the 28th Division moved into the area on 26 October, the men found themselves in a dank, dense forest of the type immortalized in old German folk tales. All about them they saw emergency rations containers, artillery-destroyed trees, loose mines along poor, muddy roads and trails, and shell and mine craters by the hundreds, from the first attempt at Schmidt. The troops relieved by the 28th Division were tired, unshaven, dirty, and nervous. They bore the telltale signs of a tough fight--signs that made a strong impression on the incoming soldiers and their commanders. After the operation, the 28th Division commander himself, General Cota, recalled that at the time he felt that the 28th's attack had only "a gambler's chance" of succeeding.

The 28th Division G-2 estimated that to the immediate front the enemy had approximately 3,350 men, to the north 1,940, and to the south 1,850, all of whom were fighting as infantry. Enemy reserves capable of rapid intervention were estimated at 2,000 not yet committed and 3,000 capable of moving quickly from less active fronts. The G-2 estimate did not mention that holding Schmidt and the Roer River dams was an important fundamental in the German scheme for preventing an Allied break-through to the Rhine.

Although the 28th's attack was originally scheduled to be launched on 31 October, rain, fog, and poor visibility necessitated postponement. Despite continued bad weather, the attack was ordered for 2 November to avoid the possibility of delaying the subsequent VII Corps attack. The 109th Infantry was to initiate the action by launching its northerly thrust at 0900. While the 110th Infantry and two battalions of the 112th were not to attack until H plus 3 hours (1200), the 2d Battalion, 112th, was to join the 109th in the H Hour jump-off--0900, 2 November.

Facing the planned American attack was an enemy determined to hold the Huertgen-Vossenack area for several reasons now apparent: the threat to the Roer dams; the dominating terrain of the ridges in the area; the importance of Duren as a road and communications center; the threat to plans already made for an Ardennes counter-offensive; and the neutralizing effect of the Huertgen Forest against American superiority in air, tanks, and artillery. The German unit charged with the defense was the 275th Infantry Division of the LXXIV Corps of the Seventh Army of Army Group B.

31 October 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

31 October, 1944       1530

My dearest darling Wilma –

I don’t recall ever having used the expression before, but anyway – Happy Halloween, dear. I didn’t know whether I’d get a chance to write you or not today, but here I am at B battery, having arrived here about half an hour ago. All is quiet at the moment, and I found myself alone and with the opportunity to write. I had waited around all morning for the money to come in so that I could pay off the men, but I got tired of waiting and took off.

Yesterday was a banner day, sweetheart, with 2 letters from you, one from my Father, one form Nin Feldman, one from my nephew Steve and one from Stan Levine. The latter told me of his marriage – but in no detail except to say they spent a week at Atlantic City and were now back in Washington; Steve wrote a nice letter thanking me for a German helmet I had sent him and telling me about Latin School. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out who Mrs. Irv Feldman was – but it was once I began to read the letter. It was sweet of her to write and I enjoyed very much hearing from her. I’ll answer her letter soon.

Your letter of 16 October interested me a great deal, darling. Despite the fact that it happens over and over again – I am nevertheless amazed at the coincidences of our discussing the same subject at about the same time. I don’t remember the exact date that I wrote you, but I’ll bet it wasn’t far off from the 16th when I told you how I felt about your going out, hanging around etc. At about the same time – you must have been reading my mind, dear, because you tell me in no uncertain terms – almost as if you were refuting what I had written – how you feel about such things – and you couldn’t possibly have received my letter at that time. Concerning that letter, by the way, darling, I’m sorry I wrote it, but I had received a whole string of ‘blue’ letters from you and was feeling kind of low myself, I guess. I loved to read what you had to say about dating, going out etc., – and I believe you, dear. You must excuse what I wrote – but much as I’d hate it – I’d rather have you go out – than to feel you were becoming stale or stagnant. You have never implied that, dear, but I would rather anticipate such a condition than to let it occur actually.

You are correct in you observations about my folks, sweetheart; whatever their faults are – one of them will not be interference in our lives. If we ever want advice – I think we’ll have to ask for it. If anything – my mother – in particular – leans over backwards in that respect and I think that is unusual for a man’s mother. Anyway – as I’ve said before, darling, being in Salem will really keep us by ourselves a good part of the time and I think that’s the best way for a newly married couple because if they do have differences of one sort or another – they can usually straighten them out themselves – if they are left alone.

Darling – one of the officers from the Battery just came in and he’s going to show me around the battery. After all – I am here on an inspection trip. So I’ll stop now, dear; remember that I love you sincerely, sweetheart – and I love to hear you tell me the same. Love to the folks – and for now and always

My deepest love

Greg.

* TIDBIT *

about the Low-Level Attack on Aarhus

This information was extracted from an article titled "Mosquito Terror" that appeared in Britain At War Magazine, published by Green Arbor Publishing in London, Issue 40, August 2010.

Aarhus, a coastal town on the eastern side of Denmark's Jutland Peninsula, was the country's largest city. It was at the university there that the Gestapo had established its area headquarters. The site had become the location of many thousands of documents and dossiers on Danish patriots and resisters – information that was invaluable to the Gestapo's work. Not only did the buildings house the Gestapo, but they were also used as a short-term prison holding a large number of resistance . Of the 4-5 university buildings immediately adjacent to an autobahn, the Gestapo chiefly occupied College No. 4.

On 31 October 1944 a total of 26 de Havilland Mosquitoes from 3 squadrons, led by Wing Commander Reg Reynolds and his navigator, Squadron Leader Ted Sismore, took off from Swanton Morley just after 0900 hours the 1,000 mile flight, 700 of which were over the North Sea.

Each Mosquito carried two long range drop tanks full of fuel and 500 lb bombs fitted with eleven-second fuses. The bomb load of the last wave of attacking aircraft included incendiaries so that once the target had been destroyed the incendiaries would help burn any surviving Gestapo records. The fusing was arranged so that each of the 4 groups of 6 aircraft could drop their load without the risk of being blown up by bombs of their own section, leaving as little time as possible between group attacks.

En route, one of the aircraft hit a bird and had to return to base. The remaining 25 continued on and were joined by another from the RAF's Film Production Unit. They all were escorted by 8 North American P-51 Mustangs from a Polish squadron. The weather that day was ideal for a low attack. The group flew the entire way at about 50 feet, as was usual for this type of mission. They approached the target so low that they were well below the level of the roof and had to pull up to clear it as they released their bombs. They then continued flying as low as possible and at a high cruising speed until well out to sea on the way home.

One airplane actually touched the roof of the university, knocked off half its elevator and tail wheel, and ripped a gash in the bottom of the fuselage, lodging a lump of masonry within. The pilot had spotted a German shooting at them and, trying to silence him with return fire, had misjudged his height.

One of the Mosquito pilots recalled that during his approach he "could see lots of people giving the 'V' sign and waving." He added that "one man, plowing in a field on the way to the target, came to attention and saluted as we passed. Some of the Mosquitoes were less than ten feet above the buildings and I saw a man duck as the bombs from the Mosquitoes ahead of me passed over his head on their way into the building.”

Two bombs from the lead aircraft were seen to go in through the front door, with two further bombs through the two adjacent windows.One 500 pound bomb was dropped by one aircraft and the pilot in the following aircraft saw it strike the side of the building, turn upward as it entered, emerge through the roof and pass over his plane before it came down again.

The attack was estimated to have taken just nine minutes to complete. Squadron Leader Sismore later commented, “The raid was easy to plan and the target was easy to identify. When we left, fire was raging in the shell of the buildings and the result was what the Danes wanted. Altogether, we dropped 24,000 pounds of bombs.” Unfortunately, ten Danish civilians outside of the university were killed. Early estimates of enemy casualties were placed between 150-165 German and 30 Danes killed, most of whom were considered to be informers. Miraculously, most of the prisoners being held in the buildings survived.

Reports from the Danish Resistance on the success of the mission were already waiting when the Mosquito pilots landed back at their base by 1400 hours, just 5 hours after they had left. It was not known at the time but it was later learned that the Gestapo chief for Jutland had called a conference of his subordinates from all over the province and that they numbered 250. With the destruction of their records and the deaths of so many valuable informers and experience staff, the Gestapo in the Jutland Peninsula were practically neutralize for the remainder of the war.

The Film Production Unit was able to make three passes over the target, filming without interruption. Here are two of the photos which resulted:

CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE

Mustang pulling up after dropping bomb


Results of bomb drop

30 October 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

30 October, 1944       1030

Good morning, darling!

It’s cloudy again but I feel pretty chipper today – for no apparent reason. I had a pretty good night’s rest except for a variety of short dream interludes which ranged all the way from a scene in which I was home and we were all together and I offered to supply the wine for the celebration because I still had some left from Germany – to a little episode which found me awakening and discovering my watch crystal, radio dial and the windows of the room I was sleeping in – all shattered because of some heavy shelling. When I actually awoke – I was disappointed sweetheart, for I would gladly have undergone the latter experience for a chance to spend a couple of hours with you. We don’t have the chance to call our shots, though do we?

Yesterday, dear, the day was broken up a bit by the showing of another Class B picture in the p.m. – “The Crime Doctor’s Strangest Case”. It certainly was a strange case! Anyway – it helped kill a couple of hours. We had a steak supper for a change – the result of some shrapnel killing a well-fed cow. The cow was butchered and trimmed within 2 hours after its untimely death and the meat was passed as good – by me, incidentally. That’s another one of a battalion surgeon’s duties, by the way. In the evening we listened to the radio and I read a couple of case histories in the “New England Medical Journal”. I was in bed at 2115 – pretty early for a Sunday evening. This morning I have a little work to do – which I probably won’t get around to doing until the p.m. Tomorrow I visit B – or Baker battery for 3 days.

There was no mail yesterday, but I was able to re-read your letter of 11 October and laugh again at your “drawings” of pumpkins, weeping willows – and what not! You do have artistic inclinations – don’t you, dear? Your “Autumn Leaves” was really something to see – and had you not labeled it – I know I would have recognized it nevertheless! Keep up the good work – but every now and then, darling, interject a little drawing – without a title, just to see if I can figure it out. O.K.?

And Halloween is tomorrow night and no celebration here that I know of – except for the booming of guns and the noise of Ack-Ack. It’s a long time since I went to a Halloween party – anyway; – probably the last one I attended in recent years – was when I was Resident at the Salem Hospital. I guess that was the last year I was really happy – until I met you, sweetheart, because the next year I was out in practice – and fundamentally, I was always lonesome. And when I finally did meet someone whom I wanted to marry – I had to go overseas – dammit. Oh well – we won’t go into that now. Anyway – we’ll probably open a bottle or two, play some cards – and call it a party.

I was really glad to read that you had finally received 51 pictures. I believe that was all I had. In an earlier letter you had mentioned that one letter containing some photos – had been opened and some removed. I’m glad you were wrong, darling. As for taking close-up pictures – well – I don’t like to pose – and a good many of the pictures I sent you were taken on the spur of the moment and without a chance to project myself into them. If the sun ever gets out and stays out long enough, dear, I’ll take a few – but the chances of having them developed seem pretty slim at this point. By the way did you get one Post-card size picture of my driver and me that was taken by a Belgian civilian? I’m glad you got the “Wilma” snaps – and incidentally – the “Wilma” is now off the jeep – but not for long. An Army Order just out insists that all names on jeeps – be of standard block letters; ours were old English and many others were of all sorts and sizes. As soon as it dries out – we’ll have your name re-painted, dear, in block letters – 3 inches high – and then I’ll have to take another picture, of course. The German Volkswagen has been turned into a trailer and we drag it with the jeep. The motor gave out and anyway it wasn’t too safe in this territory.

Well – here I go again closing up for the morning sweetheart – and reminding you once again that I love you more and more strongly – if that’s possible – darling. Someday I’ll be able to show you how much instead of just writing it – and only then will you really know how much. So – so long for now, dear, love to the folks –

All my everlasting love –

Greg.

* TIDBIT *

about "The Crime Doctor's Strangest Case"

What follows was copied directly from Internet Movie Database Site's review of "The Crime Doctor's Strangest Case" (1943), written by Dorian Tenore-Bartilucci and posted 24 March 2007. Maybe seeing this movie brought on Greg's "short dream interludes".

Dapper yet avuncular Warner Baxter, one of cinema's earliest Oscar winners, is put through his paces in this second entry in Columbia Pictures' "Crime Doctor" series, based on the hit radio series.

Warner Baxter in the Crime Doctor series

Baxter plays the title character, a.k.a. Dr. Ordway, an amnesiac who learned (in the first "Crime Doctor" movie) he used to be a gang leader. Since then, Dr. Ordway's been using his knowledge of the criminal mind to become an in-demand psychiatrist. Baxter's testimony had helped acquit Jimmy Trotter (a young Lloyd Bridges), who'd been accused of poisoning his previous employer.

Lloyd Bridges, 1943

Jimmy finds that even when you're proved innocent, it's tough to find a job when you've got "Accused Poisoner" on your resume. But does Jimmy follow Dr. Ordway's advice and get a fresh start with his new wife in a new town? No-o-o-o! Jimmy grabs the first job he can get, as assistant to a Realtor, only to find himself jobless and the prime suspect when the Realtor dies of poisoning. Dr. Ordway gets involved, and before you can say "It's old Mr. Withers! He wanted to get the land cheap!", he's up to his fedora in wily blondes disguised as brunette cooks, family skullduggery, a would-be George Gershwin who's careless with matches (played for comic relief by Jerome Cowan), and an anxious middle-aged lady (Virginia Brissac) whose freaky dreams may be the key to the mystery.

Jerome Cowan, 1943

Virginia Brissac, 1942

That dream sequence is surprisingly intense, with imagery of silhouetted girls plummeting off cliffs and hanging from nooses; it's almost like a welcome bit of comic relief when a sinister male silhouette holding a suitcase labeled "POISON" shows up! "The Crime Doctor's Strangest Case" may not be "The Maltese Falcon," but Baxter is an ingratiating lead and the flick is an entertaining way to spend 68 minutes.

After multiple twists and turns and surprise connections among the players, Dr. Ordway solved the crime.

This note of trivia was presented on the IMDB site noted above, same page:

In this movie, Gloria Dickson was married to the man (played by Jerome Cowan) who was habitually starting fires with carelessly discarded smoking materials.

Gloria Dickson, 1943

There are two scenes in the movie, including the final scene, in which he started such fires. When describing living with him, her character commented, "I'm practically cremated." Ironically, just two short years after this movie was released, Gloria was killed at the age of 28 in a house fire suspected to have been caused by a carelessly discarded cigarette.

29 October 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

29 October, 1944        1000

Sunday Morning

My dearest darling –

Well – at last the weather has broken and the way I figure it, Germany owes us about forty good sunny days. Yesterday p.m. it really turned out fine and what a foot-ball day it would have been! They don’t re-broadcast the games over here – although in the evening we got some of the half-time scores. I really stayed up late last night, darling, but hell, it was Saturday night! But I was in bed at 2245; that’s at least an hour later than my usual retiring time.

We were over at the Colonel’s place again last night and had a swell game of Bridge. I was on the winning side again and I’m really enjoying Bridge more than I do Poker. We sipped Cognac – all during the game – some of the stuff I got in a recent trip. When we finished four rubbers, we sat around and talked and reminisced. The Colonel was in the class of ’33 at the Point and I guess he saw all the Harvard-Army games I’ve seen. We had a lot of fun ribbing each other.

There wasn’t any mail yesterday and the whole p.m. was a very dull one. I got off my usual Saturday report and worked a bit on our monthly reports which are due in a couple of days. That reminds me – another pay day coming up soon – and I guess I’ll send the bulk of it home. But there now exists a bare possibility of spending some money; they are beginning to give 48 hour passes to Paris and a couple of other cities – but it’s on a rotation system and I don’t suppose my turn will come up unless we’re in for a very long war.

By the way, dear, starting day after tomorrow we, or I, go out again on those 3 day inspection trips to the batteries, which means that I’ll be going out for 3 days – about every week or 10 days for about 4 weeks. It will help break up the time – although it’s somewhat of a nuisance.

Say, I’m sorry I made one set-up look so permanent to you, darling, although we did have the desks etc. It just happened to be the former office of the SS outfit in the town and was therefore quite complete and comfortable. But to move on is what we want most of all, dear, because it’s only that way that we’ll get home soonest. When we stay put for any length of time – as we have been doing recently – we get fed up. You ask me whether my outfit ever gets up to the front lines – and I can’t answer that; I’ll tell you about it after the war, dear. Your reaction to news about AA is understandable, though – because they are used for such diverse purposes and you couldn’t possibly arrive at any definite conclusions. We’ve had all kinds of missions, some good and some bad – but that’s the way with war.

You must have paid more than $1.00 Sweetheart to get such a swell palmistry reading; not that I don’t think you have all those qualities – of course! I know our palms – or what they signify will jibe perfectly – and that thought makes me happy, dear. I’m just waiting for the time we get the chance to “jibe” – so to speak –

Well – that’s all for now, sweetheart – I’ll have to stop now. Hope to hear from you this p.m. In the meantime – so long, love to the folks – and

All my sincerest and deepest love,

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Another Hahn

Hahn, Germany was described in the 11 October 1944 entry. Although the description was accurate, it was not about the Hahn, Germany where Greg was staying at this time. There is more than one! According to Google Maps, there are six different codes for Hahn in three different regions. The one described in the 11 October entry was the first on the list below. However, Greg was at the third one on the list, just 6 miles from the center of Aachen, while the battle to take that city raged.

CLICK ON ANY IN THE LIST TO SEE WHERE IT IS

Hahn 56472 bei Marienberg, Westerwaldkreis, Rhineland-Palatinate
Hahn 56244 am See, Westerwaldkreis, Rhineland-Palatinate
Hahn 52076 Aachen, City region Aachen, North Rhine-Westphalia
Hahn 65232 Taunusstein, Rheingau-Taunus-Kreis, Hesse
Hahn 64319 Pfungstadt, Darmstadt-Dieburg, Hesse
Hahn, 35236 Breidenbach, Marburg-Biedenkopf, Hesse

Here are some pictures from in and around Hahn
in the City region of Aachen:

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE

St. Maria Dolorosa in Hahn


Monk Rock outside Hahn
(It does look like a few monks, no?)


Another View of Monk Rock


Farmland of Hahn with leaves changing colors


Farmland of Hahn on a misty day, leaves fallen


Hahn in winter's snow

28 October 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

28 October, 1944        1000

My dearest darling –

Good morning! Another Saturday a.m. – a football Saturday and no game to see over here. The Berkshires must be pretty this week-end, probably the last week before the leaves really start to fall. There are some small hills near here – as a matter of fact – this little village is situated in a valley, but the surrounding foliage is not very pretty, probably due to the fact that there’s been so much rain and so little sunshine. I imagine there must be a good deal of excitement in the States right now – with the election so close. I don’t remember whether or not I’ve told you already, but I voted some time ago – for Roosevelt, Saltonstall and Cahill. I hope Roosevelt is re-elected, although I’m beginning to get a little doubtful about it with the recent Republican trend. Roosevelt’s name is magic over here – and he is feared and respected by the Germans. His defeat would give Goebbels – whom I heard speak last night on the radio, and all the Germans – a tremendous lift – and I hope that doesn’t happen. I listen to William Joyce – the famous Lord Haw-Haw – most every night. He’s quite a speaker; keen, caustic and very often to the point. He keeps hammering away at the British and the fact that no matter who wins the war, Britain has lost it. He may be right. Every program ends with the statement – as a reminder – that we should always keep in mind that the Jews and Roosevelt started the war. I’ll be very happy on the day that I turn on to his broadcast and find him missing. He used to broadcast over Calais 1, Calais 2, Radio Paris, Radio Luxembourg; now it is Bremen, Cologne and Berlin.

Yesterday was an uneventful day – although the early evening was rather exciting and for awhile – worrisome. In the later evening – we listened to the radio and then I went to bed about 2200. I haven’t been sleeping too well of late – for no apparent reason except that I must be pretty well rested.

There was no mail yesterday – and the chances are that from here in, mail is going to be slow so that the APO can concentrate on packages. But I still have a couple of your letters as yet unanswered. Your letter of 10 October again mentions the subject of our future and what I want to do when I get back. Your attitude is certainly encouraging sweetheart and it is comforting to know that you’re willing to let me decide whether I should study when I get back or sail right into practice. Right now I honestly don’t know what I’ll do. A great deal will depend on the advice I get from Dr. Phippen and a few other of the men at the Hospital. But for the time being – I guess I’d better forget about all that and just think about the happy day when I’m actually back home getting married to you.

I’m very happy to read that you’ve started to get my mail again – even if it is in bunches. It certainly peps you up, darling, and the effect is good on me, too.

Oh – oh – here comes a few late patients and I’ll have to see them. I wanted to write a bit more this morning, but I think I’ll knock off now, darling, and then I’ll know this letter is completed. Your continued willingness to wait for me and your good spirit about it is excellent tonic, sweetheart, and I love you for it. I know you won’t be sorry.

Until later, dear, so long, love to the folks – and

My everlasting love

Greg.

* TIDBIT *

about Lord Haw-Haw


William Joyce a.k.a. Lord Haw-Haw

This biography of William Joyce was largely excerpted from the Answers.com website.

Lord Haw-Haw was the nickname of Nazi propagandist and broadcaster William Joyce. During World War II, Joyce broadcast a well-known English-language propaganda show from Berlin, often taunting Allied forces. Though never calling himself Lord Haw-Haw on air, he became infamous among Allied combat troops and British citizens.

Joyce was born in Brooklyn, New York, the son of an Irish father and an English mother on 24 April 1906. When he was three the family moved to Ireland, settling in County Mayo. Joyce was educated at a convent school in Galway. It was here that during a fist fight with another boy Joyce had his nose broken. He kept quiet about the injury and his nose never properly set, giving him the nasal broken drawl so familiar in his later broadcasts from Germany.

The Joyce family was in Ireland at the time of the Sinn Fein insurrections. Because they were Conservative and pro-Union, the family was very unpopular with the rebels. Joyce's early life was marked by violence, including an attack on his father's business and attacks on the family home by Sinn Feiners. When the British Prime Minister Lloyd George announced the Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1921 and the creation of the Irish State, the Joyce family left for England. Joyce was then 15 years old.

As an adult, Joyce joined several radical political organizations, including the British Fascisti at the age of 17. At a Conservative meeting at Lambeth's Bath Hall the following year, a squad of fascists under the control of William Joyce became involved in a fracas with left-wing agitators. It was here that Joyce received the famous scar that ran down the right side of his face from the lobe of his ear to the corner of his mouth. The scar was received during fighting in the meeting and Joyce had no doubt that the perpetrators were "Jewish Communists." This incident had a marked bearing on his outlook. He was reminded of his hatred of "the enemy" every time he looked in the mirror until the day he died.

When the British Union of Fascists (BUF) was launched in 1932, Joyce was quick to join. He made a name for himself as a dedicated activist and a good speaker very quickly. He wrote a series of articles for several extremist newspapers and gained a reputation as a skilled propagandist. He was described as a "brilliant writer, speaker who addressed hundreds of meetings... always revealing the iron spirit of Fascism." In 1934 Joyce was promoted to the BUF's Director of Propoganda. With his savage anti-semitism, Joyce began to alarm some members of the BUF. When asked about Jewish involvement in class war in 1934 Joyce snapped, "I don't regard the Jews as a class. I regard them as a privileged misfortune." It was during this time that the numbers protesting at major BUF meetings increased from a few dozen to a few thousand.

As Joyce gained power in the organization, he became more radical. He used his position as a platform for his deeply anti-Semitic views, blaming most of the era's political and social ills on "Jewish communists." He formed his own political party, the British National Socialist League, in 1937. The party proclaimed brotherhood with the Nazi party in Germany and championed similar causes. Joyce did not attempt to disguise his admiration for Adolph Hitler and Nazi policies. On August 26, 1939, Joyce fled to Berlin, narrowly escaping arrest in Britain under a law that mandated the detention of Nazi sympathizers and political activists.

Shortly after arriving in Berlin, Joyce formally joined the Nazi Party. He took a job working on an anti-Allied propagandist radio show. British journalists were quick to dismiss Joyce's broadcasts and portrayed him a mere stooge. He was dubbed "Lord Haw-Haw" because of his distinct nasal drawl. Listening to Lord Haw-Haw's show was technically prohibited in Britain under a ban on enemy radio, but the show was popular on the British home front. At the height of his influence, in 1940, Joyce had an estimated 6 million regular and 18 million occasional listeners in the United Kingdom. The program drew strong denunciation, but many simply laughed at its absurdity and obviously propagandistic content. On a few occasions, the program managed to frighten listeners with discussions of German saboteurs in Britain and with accurate details of British towns, such as descriptions of belfries and landmarks.

For his efforts Joyce continued to live a comfortable life in Berlin and in September 1944 was awarded the Cross of War Merit 1st Class with a certificate signed by Adolf Hitler. During the final stages of the war, with the Red Army approaching Berlin, Joyce moved to Hamburg. Rambling and audibly drunk, he made a final broadcast on 30 April 1945 – warning that the war would leave Britain poor and barren now that she had lost all her wealth and power in 6 years of war, leaving the Russians in control of most of Europe. He signed off with a final defiant, "Heil Hitler and farewell."

When allied forces moved to occupy the city, Joyce retreated to nearby Flensburg and was captured. He was shot in the leg in the process of trying to escape into a patch of woods. Joyce was turned over to British authorities and detained until he was flown back to Britain as a prisoner. One week earlier, the British government had passed the Treason Act of 1945 in order to prosecute citizens who seriously impeded or compromised the British war effort. The media attention surrounding Joyce's radio program and capture, as well as their portrayal of Joyce as a possible spy, encouraged the government to charge Joyce with treason under the new act. Although the courts could not substantiate charges of espionage, they did convict Joyce of treason based on his broadcasts and voluntary association and cooperation with Nazi officials.

He was adamant and defiant to the end. He showed no emotion when confronted by news and scenes from the concentration camps, blaming the deaths on starvation and disease caused by Allied bombing of communication lines. He also scratched a swastika on the wall of his cell whilst awaiting sentence. His last public message reported by the BBC was "In death as in life, I defy the Jews who caused this last war, and I defy the powers of darkness they represent." He was not yet 40 years old when executed by hanging on 3 January 1946. He was buried in an unmarked grave in the grounds of the prison.

27 October 1944

 

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

27 October, 1944         1100

Dearest sweetheart –

Friday morning and a quiet day I hope. When I say “quiet”, dear, I refer to my own inactivity and not to noise. The latter is something that doesn’t bother me very much any more – and darling, you’ll be able to scold the children as often as you want and I won’t even look up.

Yesterday I wrote you in the morning, as I remember it; in the early p.m. I took care of a couple of routine details and then I got to thinking that my detachment ought to have a radio – one of its own. I’ve been using mine here – but there are times when the officers live in one house and the medical detachment in another. Time hangs heavy for them too. In my various wanderings – getting my own radio fixed, I came across a Signal Company Corporal who had a re-built G-I radio. He wouldn’t sell it but was willing to swap it for a pistol. I was tempted to give him the one I just got – but it’s too good a souvenir, so instead I chased around yesterday and bought one for $30.00 and got the radio for it. The officers and med. detachment then pitched in and it came to only $3.00 per man. We have a swell radio and now we have almost continuous music, day and night.

Greg's radios may have looked like these
WWII-era Zenith short and long wavers

CLICK ON PICTURES TO ENLARGE
  

On the whole this detachment of ours is pretty well equipped with extra conveniences etc. compared with other divisions in our outfit. For example – we have 4 kerosene lamps and the kerosene to run them and kerosene lamps are impossible to get. You just have to know how to go about it. There I go bragging again – so excuse me, dear. But the army is a funny place – and you usually get only what you go after; nothing or very little is handed to you – but then, life as a whole is like that too.

In the evening – we drank some wine at the Colonel’s quarters and played some more bridge. At game’s end I was ahead 2 marks, but the rubbers were all close ones. Previous to that I received another letter of yours – 7th October and one from my brother-in-law – Irv – of the 16th – the best time in a long while. Your letter interested me a great deal, darling; that was the one in which you apologized for about 2 weeks of ‘blue’ letters and blamed it on Lois’ influence. I’m glad it was due to her. I couldn’t describe it exactly, but your letters were a bit different – and as you must know by now – the letters I wrote in answer – were anything but gay, and I know I wrote some things I didn’t mean. I believe I’ve already mentioned that, dear, and I know you understand.

You mention also – in that letter – that it was 11 months since we’d seen each other and that you didn’t think it would be that long. I did, dear, because I knew how long it takes a big Army to get things done. I have never actually tried to crystallize in my mind how long we’ll be separated, darling, but I’m always prepared for the worst – and anything better than that – is a gift. I’m happy you feel the same way I do about the immediate post-war status we may find ourselves in – I mean the fact that I may be in the States and still in uniform. Darling – I’ll want to get married – regardless of the uniform. As a matter of fact that would be a lot of fun – because married officers in the States have a swell time and we wouldn’t have anything like expenses and rent to worry about. Well that’s another thing we’ll have to wait for.

Say I hadn’t even thought about a gift for Stan; it just hadn’t entered my mind – but by all means – we ought to get them something. Now I do want to do this together – but only on the condition that I pay my share. I insist on that, dear, and I want you to tell me and I’ll send you a check – and don’t give me that stuff about your being a working girl! Get them whatever you think is right, dear, send it from us and that will be that.

Again it’s time to eat, dear, and by the way – won’t it be swell when we’re together and having our meals together and talking things over? Gosh there are so many things I’m looking forward to – simple things – but things I’m missing so much now – All for now, sweetheart; my love to the folks, and

All my sincerest love, dear

Greg.

* TIDBIT *
about The Signal Corps


Signal Corp Regimental Emblem

From Lone Sentry comes this information about the Signal Corps.

When Allied forces began their final advance across Germany, the course of operations caused single Armies to spread over hundreds of miles of territory. The Signal Corps' intricate system of communications was extended more than ever before. During these operations, First Army staff officers were in constant touch with all activities by high-power radio stations capable of transmitting and receiving messages over distances of more than 100 miles. Stations were mounted on jeeps and operated by the 17th Signal Battalion.

Signal Corps Jeep

As American lines advanced, liaison officers went forward to maintain a running description of the fighting. Messages were encoded by radio operators and transmitted to Command Posts. The high antennae carried with jeep radio stations often were added danger to radio operators. Easily visible, they drew artillery fire to such an extent that on several occasions officers demanded jeeps be drawn away from the vicinity of troops and installations.

One of the most interesting developments in field radio was the construction of a powerful 60 kilowatt mobile radio station. Called "Sigcircus," this mobile station had all the facilities of a fixed station of comparable power and was completely self-sufficient. It was equipped with broadcast and radio facsimile transmission facilities in addition to the normal message-handling radio-teletype channels. The station could also make recordings on wire, film and disc and carried its own Signal center complete with radio teletypes for simultaneous sending and receiving between Europe and the United States.

In addition to its primary mission, the Signal Corps also was charged with the responsibility of maintaining and repairing the equipment necessary to do the job, along with Signal Intelligence work and the processing of V-mail. The tremendous task of repair and maintenance of Signal Corps radio, telephone, teletype, cryptographic, radar and other types of equipment demanded that repair companies operate a system of workshops at Signal Depots as well as send crews of skilled technicians out into the field to keep front line equipment functioning. Thousands of Signal Corpsmen, many of whom came from similar jobs in civilian life, kept the equipment working.

Signal Intelligence, using the latest developments in radio, intercepted enemy transmissions and obtained information invaluable to field commanders in their tactical planning. Little known to the millions of GIs and civilians using the V-mail service was the fact that the Signal Corps was directly responsible for the laboratory processing of this handy form of personal mail. Working with the Army Postal Service, Signal Corps V-mail laboratories were set up in London, France and Iceland and rapidly photographed and printed incoming and outgoing V-mail on a scale that reached several million individual letters per day.

The success of American air and armored forces, the close liaison that carried all troops to victory was due in a large measure to superior Signal Corps equipment, developed specially for each branch and arm of the service.

Their expertise also contributed to the morale of at least one unit - the 438th AAA AW BN Medical Detachment and it's Battalion Surgeon, Greg.