20 February 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

20 February, 1945      0930

Germany

My dearest sweetheart –

Tuesday morning over here and what will today bring that’s different? That’s the way we get to thinking after we’ve been sitting in one spot a little longer than usual. It’s a sure bet that this Spring will be a good one for fighting because we’ve already had our thaw, mud and flood – and those are the usual obstacles.

We had a ‘Party’ yesterday, dear – but as usual, we had an excuse. One of our Sergeants – from a line Battery – became a 2nd Lieutenant – one of these battlefield promotions that you’ve probably read about. Anyway – he was sworn in yesterday p.m. and we had to have something to drink. Boy – we really ended up with a corker. We haven’t named it exactly – but this morning I suggested “Green Death” – and everyone thought that should be the name. This week – and the first time in six months – we had fresh oranges one morning for breakfast. There were about 10 left in the kitchen – so we juiced those – as a starter. To that we added the following: one full quart of alcohol, 1½ quarts of water, 1½ quarts of grapefruit juice, ¾ bottle of Coca Cola and 1 quart of Champagne. It really went down nicely and we ended up by having a good get together. There were about 17 of us.

I went to bed early last night, dear. I was tired – and a little dizzy, too. It seems to me I must have dreamed the whole night thru – and the oddest thing was the subject: I dreamed I was back in Salem, just getting back as a matter of fact, still in Uniform, and dropping in to have a talk with Mrs. Tucker. And the oddest thing about it all, darling, was my reaction. It was not one of joy of seeing you, or my folks and yours. The dream never got that far. But over and over again I kept looking myself over and telling myself I was back, I was alive, I was uninjured. As I said, dear, the dream never got beyond that point – but you just can’t imagine what a relief it was to be home and whole. I never realized how much that thought must prey on the subconscious – but that’s what it must be.

I got a very recent letter of yours yesterday, sweetheart, written 6 February. And it was a very sweet letter, too, written in answer to a letter of mine – one of 8 January. I don’t remember exactly what I wrote in that letter, dear, but your own letter left me a bit puzzled. You imply that I write either that type of letter – or one that is completely matter-of-fact and deals only with every day activities; and you say if that’s what I want, that’s what you’ll do too – so as not to hurt me. Well – darling – just keep on writing the letters you’ve been writing – and you won’t hurt me. As for my own – I never realized there was so great a difference between the types of letters I write you. I know I don’t write you sad letters very often – and I think that’s good for both of us. My type of sad letter – if continued – would only make you and then me – very unhappy, worried – and tense. It would have too much of the war in it – and as far as I’m concerned – if you must have the morbid side of war, dear – you can’t get if from me.

I’ve never been aware that I’ve deliberately written my letters according to pattern, dear. I know a day isn’t complete unless I sit down and have a little talk with you – to tell you what I’ve done, to remind you I’m still your fiancé, to tell you I love you and miss you and to leave the war out of my letters as much as possible. Darling – I’ll tell you so much about the war when I get back and you’ll shudder – but you’ll know I’m back and you won’t mind – and I won’t either. But for now – let’s go along as always. O.K.?

And here it is time to see a couple of patients. More and more I’m getting the feeling that the war will fold up one day not too far off. Let’s just hope my hunch is right! All for now, sweetheart, love to the folks – and

My deepest and sincerest love –

Greg

P.S. If you don’t know what to do with the Nazi banner – what in the world will you do with the second one I sent you?

Love,

G.

* TIDBIT *

about the Invasion of Iwo Jima

[CLICK TO ENLARGE ALL PICTURES]

The following was excerpted from The History of War's web site called "Operation Detachment: The Battle for Iwo Jima February-March 1945". The photos were found in various places on the internet.

Before the invasion commenced on 19 February 1945, the commander of the V Amphibious Corps, Major General Harry Schmidt had requested ten days of continuous shelling from Rear Admiral William Blandy's Task Force 52 (the Support Force) but was turned down by Admiral Harry Hill as there would be insufficient time to rearm the ships before D-Day. Schmidt requested nine and was offered a mere three. The US Navy task force off Iwo Jima was joined by Admiral Marc Mitscher's Task Force 58, which had just conducted a series of raids against the Japanese mainland and consisted of sixteen aircraft carriers, eight battleships and fifteen cruisers, as well as Admiral Raymond Spruance in his flagship USS Indianapolis. The battleships and cruisers started to pound the island and were augmented by carrier-based aircraft mounting airstrikes. At this point, thousands of Marines began to disembark from troopships and LVTs. They were to be covered by sixty-eight LVT(A)s that were well-armoured amphibious tracked vehicles that mounted a 75mm howitzer and three machine guns. Despite the reconnaissance and beach samples from the frogmen that indicated the assault forces would have some trouble getting off the beach, the planners had considered that it would provide a minor obstacle only. Unfortunately, the initial assault wave encountered fifteen foot high terraces of soft volcanic ash that were to frustrate their advance inland and so the advance by the Marines, tanks, and LVTs ground to a halt on the shoreline. These were being followed by successive waves every five minutes or so, and the situation quickly deteriorated.

Troops moving ashore on Iwo Jima beach
20 February 1945

By late morning, Admiral Harry Hill had some 6,000 men ashore and the bulldozers that had arrived with the early waves were battling with the terraces. Some elements had indeed managed to get off the beach and start to work their inland, but it was at this point Kuribayashi, despite his initial plan to wait until the Marines had reached Airfield One, decided to unleash the full fury of his concentrated artillery fire on the tempting targets struggling on the beach. Added to this, a sizeable element of beach defenders had survived the Navy's rolling barrage and added their weight to the fire. As one marine battalion commander remarked, "You could've held up a cigarette and lit it on the stuff going by".

Navy Doctors, Corpsmen and Chaplain at Iwo Jima Aid Station
20 February 1945

Despite this, the Marines kept themselves in good order and started to move off the beaches in force. On Green Beach, the extreme left hand landing zone, the terrain was not so difficult here and Colonel Harry B Liversedge's 28th Marine Regiment (5th Marine Division, commanded by Major General Keller E Rockey) started their advance across the island to isolate Mount Suribachi. They were watched by Colonel Kanehiko Atsuchi and over 2,000 men in the independent command that defended Mount Suribachi in well-concealed positions all the way from the lower slopes to the mount.

Moving off the beach of Iwo Jima
20 February 1945

As the day wore on, the Marines continued to advance slowly with a number of tanks from the 4th Tank Battalion pressing inland and only halting after they had reached a large minefield. Japanese resistance was strong and casualties were heavy. The 28th Marines continued to consolidate their positions at the base of Mount Suribachi and were reinforced by a number of Sherman tanks that gave invaluable help in destroying a number of pillboxes and by evening, Mount Suribachi had been securely isolated from the rest of the island.  An assault on the volcano would comesoon enough. Eventually the Marines reached the southern perimeter of Airfield No. 1 where the Japanese mounted a fierce defence and settled in for the night. The Japanese on the other hand were adept at night-time infiltration tactics and continually sought to probe for weaknesses in the Marine line while keeping a constant barrage of artillery fire.

Hospital ship "Samaritan" off shore of Iwo Jima

On 20 February 1945 bad weather and strong winds produced a four-foot surf that disrupted the follow-on landings. It became so bad that even the larger landing ships, such as LSTs and LSMs had difficulty in maintaining position on the beach. Cables tied to wrecked or abandoned equipment such as LVTs or tanks simply snapped under the strain. Smaller craft had even worse time of it, and as a result, Schmidt's desire to land a regiment (21st under Colonel Hartnoll J Withers) from the 3rd Marine Division (Major General Graves B Erskine) could not be accomplished. Meanwhile, the 28th Marines were now faced with the prospect of having to storm Mount Suribachi while the remainder of the assault force looked to continuing the advance to capture Airfields Nos. 1 and 2. The 28th Marines, under the cover of naval gunfire and carrier airstrikes started to advance on a broad front but by noon had only advanced some 75 yards in the face of a fierce defence by the Japanese. Even though a number of tanks had become available to support the advance, the Japanese still held an enormous height advantage in their well-concealed positions. The Marines therefore dug in to await reinforcements and additional support to continue the attack the next day. The Japanese were determined that the Americans should have no respite and commenced an artillery barrage all along the front.

37mm gun, Mount Suribachi in the background
and Avenger above

Meanwhile, the other three regiments commenced their attack towards Airfield No. 1 with the right flank anchored on the Quarry and the left flank swinging northeast to straighten the line. Additional support arrived in the afternoon in the form of the brand new battleship, the USS Washington, which commenced bombardment of the Quarry with its 16in guns and caused a number of landslides, which blocked several caves. Despite fierce resistance, the Marines had captured most of Airfield No. 1 by mid-afternoon and had straightened their line out, although they had still not reached the intended D-Day 0-1 line. This was a blow to Kuribayashi who had not expected such a rapid advance, but he took comfort that the Marines had yet to reach his main defensive line and the bad weather was still hampering operations. As the second day drew to a close, heavy rain began to fall adding to the Marines' misery.

19 February 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

19 February, 1945      1100

Germany

Wilma, darling –

Well – this morning I’m late for another reason. We had a visiting team from Army down to give us a little talk on the pleasant subject of bombs, saboteurs, counter-espionage etc. – all with a view towards putting us on our guard as we get farther into Germany. It was very interesting, particularly because one member of the team had landed by parachute – in France – six months or so before D-day. His mission was sabotage and he told some interesting stories. As usual – the real is more vivid than what you see in the movies.

Yesterday was a very ordinary day for the most part. I can tell you this, darling, – it was enlivened by a very unusual incident – and I don’t think it will be a breach of army security to tell you. Sweetheart – I had my first Coke in fifteen months!! Now that’s really something and gives you a better idea of what war can really be like. But you’d be surprised what a commotion it caused. We each got an issue of 2 bottles – and to show you what will-power I have – I still have one bottle left. Some of the boys mixed theirs with Scotch, or gin – or Cognac – but not I – I drank mine straight – and you know, dear – I burped the first honest-to-goodness-gassy burp in over a year. What a day!! I’ll never forget it.

Well – in the late p.m. – despite the Cokes – I felt horribly blue. It was raining out, it was quiet – and I just sat at my desk dreaming of what things would be like were I home – on a similar Sunday p.m. We were together in Salem – just taking it easy – all by ourselves. That’s what my most usual picture is, sweetheart, – the two of us by ourselves. Despite my usual practicality – I don’t seem to care where we’re actually at, or what the circumstances are. I’m content to picture you and me and I’m not interested in the details. The latter will take care of themselves when the time comes – and I don’t want to be interfered with when I’m dreaming. Do you, dear? You always ask “when will it actually be?” I wish I knew, sweetheart, because it’s just as discouraging to me as it is to you. I’ve loved you a long time now – but only by long distance – just as you, and I think we’d both like to love each other at close range, direct fire – to revert to the military. Over and over again, dear, I can say only that I still love you hard, and I’ll continue to do so always no matter how long it is. I’ve never doubted that I could or would do otherwise – and all this time has not been able to prove me wrong.

Dearest – I’m going to stop now. I have a bit of a headache – an unusual occurrence for me – but it will go soon, I’m sure. Hope to hear from you today. Meanwhile love to the folks, regards to Mary and the girls – and from me – darling – accept

All my everlasting love –

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about


and World War II

Coca-Cola began it's existance in a three-legged brass pot in the backyard of John S. Pemberton on May 8, 1886. Pemberton was a pharmacist trying to create a new headache tonic. Pemberton took his creation to a pharmacy about two blocks from his home. There the syrup was mixed with cold tap water and sold to ailing customers for 5 cents. As the story goes, a customer in great pain came in and ordered the syrup and the soda jerk accidentally mixed it with carbonated water instead of regular tap water. The customer loved the new drink, declaring it "Delicious and Refreshing!"

Frank Robinson, Pemberton's partner and bookkeeper, suggested the name "Coca-Cola", taking each part of the name from a key ingredient in the product and proclaiming that the two C's would look good in advertising. Mr. Robinson penned "Coca-Cola" in the unique flowing script that is now famous worldwide. Coca-Cola had experienced nonstop growth since its creation back in 1886. In the decades leading up to World War II, it seemed that its popularity couldn’t spread at a faster rate. World War II proved this notion wrong and was the cause for the enormous boom that continues to this day.

Robert Woodruff was the president of the Coca-Cola Company for 60 years, starting in 1923. Woodruff pushed for the expansion of the company overseas and sent Coca-Cola to the 1928 Amsterdam Olympics with the U.S. team. This move greatly impacted the overall success of the company, with much credit due to Woodruff, because Coca-Cola continues to be a major sponsor of the Olympics to this day. As the United States entered the war, Robert Woodruff ordered that "every man in uniform gets a bottle of Coca-Cola for 5 cents, wherever he is and whatever it costs the company".

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When the United States entered World War II, Coke began to represent its product in the US as a patriotic drink by providing free drinks for soldiers of the United States Army, thus allowing the company to be exempt from sugar rationing. General Dwight D. Eisenhower's Allied Headquarters sent a cablegram that requested materials for 10 bottling plants on June 29, 1943. In addition to that, they ordered 3 million filled bottles of Coca-Cola.

The United States Army permitted Coca-Cola employees to enter the front lines as "Technical Officers" when in reality they rarely if ever came close to a real battle. Instead, they operated Coke's system of providing refreshments for soldiers, who welcomed the beverage as a reminder of home. As the Allies of World War II advanced, so did Coke. Coca-Cola plants were built as close as possible to European and Pacific battle areas. A plant in Algiers was the first of 64 bottling plants that were built abroad during WWII. These plants provided over 5 billion bottles to American soldiers during World War II.

After the war, the plants were converted for commercial use in their same locations causing for an easy transition into establishing business throughout many parts of the world. Served only in the United States in 1886, Coca-Cola products went from being available to 53 countries in the late 1930s, to 120 countries in the post World War II years up to 1959. Today Coke products are distributed in over 200 nations and its trademark is written in approximately 80 languages.

In common with many large American companies, Coca-Cola had a controversial relationship with Germany before and during World War II. Even as the Nazi party gained power, grew and created its Hitler Youth, Coca-Cola was being advertised alongside the party's posters and within its booklets. A division of the company continued to operate in Germany during the war, but eventually were unable to import the syrup needed for production of Coca-Cola from the United States. As a result, Fanta, the fizzy, sugar-based drink owned by Coca Cola, symbolic of the "American dream," actually began its life in Nazi Germany. Various conspiracy theories sporadically arise over this story, some claiming that the drink was conjured up by the Nazi war machine to counter American permeation of popular consumer culture. One could reasonably argue that the negative propaganda inherent in mass consumption of an American import would be damaging – potentially to both parties.

In reality, the drink was developed not by the Nazis, but independently by Max Keith, head of Coca Cola’s German operations, a pragmatic solution to the problem of getting Coke ingredients into Germany. Its ingredients varied, depending on which by-products were available from German factories at the time. The drink proved popular, and was adopted by Coca Cola internationally post-war.

18 February 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

18 February, 1945      0910

Germany

Dearest sweetheart –

It’s comparatively quiet here right now. Most of the boys are at services (Catholic) and the sick boys haven’t come in as yet. There are only periods in a day, darling, and often I’m not ready myself.

This Sunday it’s raining – but a mild gentle type of rain like the rain we have in Boston – March and April. It’s still hard to believe that winter can be over here – but this month is slipping by fast – unless March is a tough month. We had quite a snowstorm the 31st of January, I believe, with the snow piled up quite high. The next day it started to rain – and it didn’t stop until all the snow had gone. I have never seen anything quite like it. You can imagine how mucky things were. Unlike New England – instead of freezing, it just stayed warm – and it hasn’t been cold since.

Everything around here is pretty quiet and the only subject of conversation is that about the various passes and leaves that are being issued. At the moment – leaves to the States just aren’t available. This battalion gets a small quota every now and then of leaves and furloughs of 7 days to England. We’ve had one officer go so far – the lucky stiff. He’s married to a nurse who’s stationed there. I may have mentioned the fact before. Her outfit arrived in England a little ahead of ours and we were never more than 50 or 60 miles apart. And now he gets a chance to go back to see her. The passes are 3 day affairs to Paris or Brussels and we average about 1 officer and 5 E.M.’s about every 10 days or so. As you know, dear, I haven’t drawn any one of the 3 possibilities. I’m not very interested in England – but I would like to get to Paris or Brussels for 3 days – just to get away from here for a short while. I had 3 days off in October or November – and it did me a lot of good. You just can’t imagine, darling, how monotonous things get when you’re technically on duty seven days of every week There just aren’t any half days, Sundays or Holidays. One day is so much like the one that passed. And it’s been 8 months of that.

Darling – you’ve asked me a few times now to send requests to you so that you can send something to me. Honestly, dear, I appreciate it – but I don’t want you to bother. I don’t like to ask for things – and anyway I don’t need a thing I can think of. Now, now – don’t get angry with me, sweetheart – I’ll ask for something at the bottom of this letter – but I can’t be specific because I just can’t think of anything I need. Damn it – yes I can!! I’ve lost about 8 face cloths since landing on the continent and I had to borrow one – the one I’m using now. Sooo – would you please send me a face cloth, dear – and I don’t care what color it is! And if you can get a piece of yourself into the package – please send that!! I’ll love it to death – and send it back and you can spread it – but hell – that’s pretty silly talk – for a grown man – now isn’t it, dear? Well – I get pretty silly now and then – they call it ETO-happy over here – and everybody is infected with the germ. And the only vaccine for it is in the States and the reason we can’t get it is because every soldier has a different type. For example, sweetheart – my type is embodied in you and I’d get no results whatsoever from any other type. What to do about it? I guess I’ll just remain disease-ridden until I get the right treatment – and I do hope it comes soon!

I’ll have to stop now, dear. It’s getting noisy again – as usual – and I've got a couple of things to do. I hope all is well at home, darling, and that you’re managing to keep your chin up. Love to the folks, dear and

All my deepest love –

P.S. Would you please send me a Greg package including in it – a face cloth?? Thanks!!

Love

G.

17 February 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

17 February, 1945       1120

Germany

Dearest darling, Wilma –

Today it’s air-mail day again. I know how you dislike V-mail but occasionally it just can’t be helped. From what I read though, it does seem as if V-mail is consistently ahead of air-mail, but if you don’t mind the delay – I’d rather write this type anyway. I’m a verbose sort of person and I always feel so damned confined when I start writing on a limited surface. Goddamit – I’ll be glad when I don’t have to resort to writing at all when I want to say something to you, dear. I get fed up too with this being apart – just as you are. I got 4 letters yesterday from you, sweetheart, the middle of January – and you really sounded tired of it all. And I can’t blame you one bit, dear. I know it has been a longer harder task than you ever dreamed of. I guess it had everyone fooled though. And with people telling you it wasn’t so smart getting engaged or wondering how you can be so strong as not to date – it must be even more difficult. At least that’s one thing I don’t have to put up with. I have no other choice right now than to continue being a soldier, dear.

And that brings up the subject of some remark I made once about my preferring to “stick it out” until it was all over. Apparently, Sweetheart, that upset you – and I’m sorry I put it that way. But that was farthest from my mind. I was just trying to counter-act some of your surrounding influences. You see, dear, you’re with ARC, you hear and know of returning veterans, you get data of one sort or another about being able to come home in this or that number of months. Well – over here it’s entirely different. We’re told we’re not even considered for rotation until 24 mos. of overseas duty, we see the war poke along – and there just doesn’t seem to be any point in trying to fool you. That’s why I wrote I’d like to stick it out. God – girl I’d give anything to get home – but it would have to be honorably done – and if I have to come home paralyzed – or for some other permanent disability, I’d rather not come home at all. Do you think I like it over here, do you think I’m a hero, do you think I like to think about you at home with little to do except worry about me? No – I don’t like it one bit, darling; I don’t think you can be any more anxious for me to get home than I am – but, dear – I just can’t do a damn thing about it – it seems. I went to the Army Surgeon a long while ago – hoping I would get changed around some way – to get out of this rut I’m in. Now I’m afraid to try again because I might jeopardize my long standing with a line outfit. One way or another – when the time comes I’m bound to get credit for being with a front-line battalion on continuous combat duty. So I’m sticking out a situation which at times becomes so unbearable from boredom and inactivity – I could go mad – just on the one hope that I’ll get home to you a shade earlier than another M.C. I suppose you could say I was unhappy – after reading all that. But I’m just not the unhappy type, darling; I don’t like to think that war has made me so. Let us say – it’s a damned unhappy situation – and when I’m out of it – everything will be all right. Perhaps this is an example of what you meant when you wrote I could talk myself in or out of situations. If so – dear – I’m glad I have that ability – and I’m sorry for those fellows over here who don’t have it.

Yes – I’ll stick this through – but only until the first gleam of hope – the first possible opening shows itself for me to come home. Then I’ll work every conceivable way to get the hell out of here. But until that time – I’m going to do my job and try to stay well doing it, too.

Sweetheart – excuse the tirade – but it’s just the way I felt and I had to get it off my chest. I feel better now. In case you can’t see thru all my frustrations – you can blame it on the fact that I’m deeply in love with you and it drives me crazy to think of us as apart rather than a man and wife. Love to the folks, dear –

And all my everlasting love –

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Iwo Jima, LCI(G)-449 and Rufus Herring

While the Armies in Western Germany were lining up along the Roer, preparing for its crossing and the push toward the Rhine, the Navy was two days from its invasion of Iwo Jima. From the book "Iwo Jima" by Eric Hammel, published by Zenith Press in 2006, comes this extract, found on pages 53-55:

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LCI(G)-449 is the 3rd gunboat away approaching Iwo Jima

On 17 February 1945, at about 0800 hours, twelve wooden-hulled minesweepers approached to within 750 yards of the eastern beaches of Iwo Jima to begin a methodical search for mines as well as to check for reefs, shoals, and manmade underwater obstacles undisclosed by aerial reconnaissance. Japanese atop Mount Suribachi opened fire on the minesweepers with small arms.

At 0840 on February 17, three battleships and numerous fire-support vessels moved to within 3,000 yards of various sectors around Iwo to provide close-in support of another foray by a team of frogmen. Japanese whose big guns had remained silent to that point opened fire as the ships and gunships came within pointblank range. The battleship USS Tennessee was struck off southeastern Iwo by one round a little before 0900. Four sailors were injured but the damage was negligible. Within thirty minutes, as the cruiser USS Pensacola approached within 1,500 yards of the northeastern shore to support the minesweepers, one Japanese 150mm gun crew opened fire on her, splashing their first round only 50 yards short of the ship. The cruiser attempted to evade, but the gunners knew their job and managed to fire six rounds into her within three minutes. Seventeen officers and men were killed (including her executive officer) and 120 were wounded, her combat information center was knocked out, an observation plane on her starboard catapult was set aflame, and she was hulled in several places. For all that, as repair parties fanned out throughout the ship, the Pensacola's guns ceased firing only as required during the course of delicate surgeries on a number of her wounded.

Although the plucky minesweepers were dogged throughout their mission by gunfire from the island, they drew off only when their mission was completed. They found no mines and no under water obstructions.

At nearly 1100 hours, a hundred swimmers from four Underwater Demolition Teams (UDTs) entered the water to make a final check of the invasion beaches for underwater obstacles and to get a close-up sense of the tide and surf. They were to destroy any obstacles, natural or manmade, that they could find. The frogmen were covered by fire from twelve LCI(G) gunboats firing 20mm and 40mm guns and LCI(R) rocket ships firing clusters of 7.2-inch bombardment rockets as well as 20mm and 40mm guns. The LCIs closed to within 1,000 yards of the shore as the swimmers approached the beach and opened fire. All but one frogman had returned to their destroyer-transports by 1220 to report that the beaches were clear of mines and obstacles, and beach and surf conditions were reported as favorable.

Many Japanese who watched the LCIs open fire thought the invasion was about to begin – how could they think otherwise, after all the other action that morning? - and, in direct contravention to their commanding general's orders and oft-stated wishes, they took to defending the beaches. Heavy guns overlooking and backing the landing beaches reached out to the LCIs over a period of 45 minutes. All twelve vessels were hit, some brutally, but even after drawing off to quench fires and succor the wounded, several LCIs nosed back into the toe-to-toe brawl, their crews unwilling to concede anything to the Japanese. The cumulative loss to the LCIs was 7 killed and 153 wounded.

One of the gunboats to earn the Presidential Unit Citation for operations at Iwo Jima that day was LCI(G)-449. While shelling enemy positions in support of the UDT swimmers, the ship was heavily damaged by Japanese counter-fire and went out of control. LCI (G) 449 had all 40 mm guns disabled and battled two fires caused by three large caliber hits. Twenty-one men were killed and twenty were wounded.

Casualties being taken off LCI(G)-449

Her skipper, Lieutenant Rufus G. Herring, would receive the Congressional Medal Of Honor. Here is his citation:

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty as commanding officer of LCI(G)-449 operating as a unit of LCI(G) Group 8, during the pre-invasion attack on Iwo Jima on 17 February 1945. Boldly closing the strongly fortified shores under the devastating fire of Japanese coastal defense guns, Lt. (then Lt. (j.g.)) Herring directed shattering barrages of 40mm and 20mm gunfire against hostile beaches until struck down by the enemy's savage counter-fire which blasted the 449's heavy guns and whipped her decks into sheets of flame. Regaining consciousness despite profuse bleeding he was again critically wounded when a Japanese mortar crashed the conning station, instantly killing or fatally wounding most of the officers and leaving the ship wallowing without navigational control. Upon recovering the second time, Lt. Herring resolutely climbed down to the pilothouse and, fighting against his rapidly waning strength, took over the helm, established communication with the engine room, and carried on valiantly until relief could be obtained. When no longer able to stand, he propped himself against empty shell cases and rallied his men to the aid of the wounded; he maintained position in the firing line with his 20mm guns in action in the face of sustained enemy fire, and conned his crippled ship to safety. His unwavering fortitude, aggressive perseverance, and indomitable spirit against terrific odds reflect the highest credit upon Lt. Herring and uphold the highest traditions of the U.S. Naval Service.

Rufus G. Herring

The following photo was taken twenty minutes before LCI(G)-449 headed into Iwo Jima to support the UDT swimmers on 17 Feb, 1945. PH3/c Leo McGrath volunteered to be aboard to take photos of the pre-invasion mission. Almost thirty minutes after taking this photo he was killed by enemy batteries hidden in the caves of Suribachi. He only took two photographs and this was one of them.

16 February 1945

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

16 February, 1945

Germany

Good Morning, Sweetheart –

Here goes your pet hate – a V-mail – but I haven’t overdone it – have I? If I don’t get this off now – I know I’ll not get a chance to write. Damn it – the boys are playing “There Goes That Song Again” on the Vic. We just got it the other day and I like it – but it’s sad. I don’t know how old it is but it must have been fairly high on the Hit Parade.

Here is a clip of "There Goes That Song Again," from "Carolina Blues."

Last nite we saw “Doughgirls” with Jane Wyman, Ann Sheridan et al. We were in the mood for that type of comedy and enjoyed it a lot. The weather here continues to be beautiful and yesterday was so mild you could walk around without a jacket – and the sun was out all day. I rode over to a nearby city and took some pictures of the destruction. I had been there before but it was always cloudy.

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This was supposed to show why Aachen was called the
City of Churches - but the camera couldn't quite make it.
You can just barely see the many steeples.


Near Aachen. If you look closely you can see the words
HITLER JUGEND. This was a special school for Hitler youths.


Aachen - 1200 yr old cathedral -
where Charlemagne was coronated.


Aachen Cathedral Today


Aachen 1945. This is solid cement-walled "BUNKER" where people
lived for days in terrible conditions. Many of these thru Germany.


Former famous hotel, then German HQ - now a wreck.
Aachen - February 1945


Hotal Quellenhof - Today


Aachen - German Aid station, tank, and cross-section of
an apartment house.
Most of Aachen is like this - a result of RAF.

Got a letter from Lawrence of Feb 4 yesterday and was glad to read he got a hosp. job. That should keep him around for a few months anyway. And darling – I haven’t told you that I love you hard because you’re the sweetest girl in the world!! Stay that way. I’ll be back one of these days. Love to the folks and

All my deepest love

Greg

15 February 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

15 February, 1945       1020

Germany

Wilma, darling –

Believe it or not there’s actually a taste of Spring in the air today and woo! woo! – it looks like it’s going to be particularly tough to take this year. It was tough enough last year, dear – what are we going to do now? With all the snow and cold you’re having now – I suppose that’s far from your mind – but Spring will come to Boston and you’re going to have the same problem. And there are no pills for that!

The sun has shone for 3 consecutive days, but the wind is still with us and probably will be for some time. Yesterday was a reasonably quiet day. In the p.m. we had an officers’ meeting with most of the line officers coming in. There were a lot of administrative details to discuss and the meeting lasted from 1400 to 1630. It was good seeing the fellows again – we get together so seldom. And in the evening we had a movie – “Carolina Blues” – with K. Kayser, Ann Miller etc. It was class B but the music was good and I enjoyed it. This p.m. I’ve got to go to Corps Surgeon’s office on a little business – but that isn’t much of a trip.

I got a laugh out of what you wrote some time ago about my being called “Doc”. I laughed because I’ve never liked that either. It’s just unavoidable, I guess, and some people persist in using it – although I think I get away with it more than most. A good many don’t know what to do about it. I’m glad you like my name, sweetheart, because someday you’ll be able to tack “Mrs.” In front of it – and you can call me anything you like – I’ll come!

And that reminds me – you once wondered if I would find it difficult becoming a civilian again – and would I be rough, swear at everyone, gamble and tell dirty stories. Concerning the dirty stories – I haven’t heard one since coming overseas, although I knew my share before entering the Army. I never liked gambling and I don’t now – so you’ll have no trouble on that score; swearing? I’m pretty good at that – but I think I can reserve it for the right time. And I don’t think I’ve become rough. No – I think I’ll come back pretty much the same as when I left. Oh – you’ll have trouble with me all right! I’ll be forever kissing you until your lips get sore; I’ll be forever hugging you until your ribs ache; I’ll be in your way constantly – and I’ll have to be dragged out of the house for months to come. Outside of that, sweetheart, I believe you’ll find me easy to get along with.

You know, darling, I never did thank you for your really swell letter written New Year’s Eve – before you went out. I know how you felt – but there just wasn’t anything to do about it. And I’m glad you did go out, too. Your letter was warm and sincere and I’ve read it over and over again. I can’t say very much in answer. My life is already so much intertwined with yours – you must be aware of it. I love you and what is more important, sweetheart, for all the things you are. I’ll always love you, for I know that in you I shall find reciprocated love, devotion and the keen desire for life that I have always striven for.

That’s all for now, darling, except – send my love to the folks and best regard to the girls at the office.

All my everlasting love –

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about "Carolina Blues" (1944)


Ann Miller and Kay Kyser

Greg mentioned seeing "Carolina Blues" and judged it as a "Class B" movie. Here is a review from The New York Times, written by Bosley Crowther and published on 8 December, 1944 and titled "The Screen / Very Blue."

CLICK TO ENLARGE

And transcribed:

The so-called pride of Rocky Mount, N. C., Kay Kyser, is advertising himself and his home town again in Columbia's so-called musical picture, "Carolina Blues," which came to Loew's State yesterday. And the way he is doing it this time is by playing at leading his band in a series of war-bond rallies to raise money for a cruiser, Rocky Mount. As the prop for these musical sessions there is nonsense which passesfor a plot wherein Victor Moore and Ann Miller pursue Mr. Kyser in search of a job. And that is "Carolina Blues," neighbors. It is likely to leave you depressed.

As usual, Mr. Kyser rather boldly monopolizes most of the screen as band leader, patriotic citizen and dashing Lothario. His performance of each personality is more awkward in that order. Mr. Moore is faintly amusing as several frumpy, elderly folks, and Miss Miller is virtually brushed off as the lady pursuing Mr. K. There are agonizing moments when a character called Ish Kabibble tries to clown, and some comparably painful exhibitions by bleak-looking male soloists. One song number, "Mr. Beebe," done by Harold Nicholas and a Negro troupe, rates a high grade for peppiness and satire. And "There Goes That Song Again" is good. But the rest—well, they're on the same order as the picture, which is pretty grim.

Here is a clip of Mr. Beebe, with dancers
Harold Nicholas and Josephine Baker:

This synopsis of the movie came from a former listing on the Turner Classic Movies web site.

When Kay Kyser and his band, including singer Georgia Carroll, return from a long USO tour, the exhausted musicians look forward to their vacation, while Georgia plans her upcoming wedding to an Army officer. Their publicist, Charlotte Barton, does not give them time to rest, however, for she immediately takes them to the Carver shipyards. Despite the band's grumbling, they put on a good show, and Kay is entranced by the singing of Julie Carver (Ann Miller), the daughter of Phineas J. Carver (Victor Moore), whom Kay mistakenly assumes is the owner of the shipyard. However, ne’er-do-well Phineas Carver is the one poor relation in an otherwise fabulously wealthy family that includes Elliott, Hiriam, Horatio, Aunt Martha and Aunt Minerva — all of whom are also played by Victor Moore, giving this otherwise pretty ordinary movie a unique appeal.

Anxious to be married, Georgia urges Kay to replace her with Julie, but Kay mysteriously declines. On his way back to the hotel, Kay meets an old chum, Tom Gordon, the newspaper editor in Kay's hometown of Rocky Mount, North Carolina. Tom asks Kay to return home to put on a bond rally, so that Rocky Mount can buy a destroyer. Carver suggests holding the show in New York, where they can raise enough money for a cruiser, not just a destroyer, and Kay tries to trick the band members into agreeing. They see through his scheme, but as they are stuck in New York due to transportation shortages, acquiesce. Georgia is annoyed at having to postpone her wedding, however, and during the show, arranges for Julie to substitute for her. Julie is a big hit, much to the delight of her father and the chagrin of her wealthy, snobbish relatives.

Kay is furious about the trick and yells at Julie for trying to ruin the show. When Georgia questions him about why he is refusing to hire Julie, he states that as a rich girl, she would have no commitment to a real career. Georgia passes on the information to Julie and Phineas, unaware that they are only pretending to be rich to make a good impression on Kay. In reality, they are the poor Carvers and are continually borrowing from their relations. Kay then travels to Rocky Mount, where the townsfolk hold a banquet in his honor. During the festivities, however, Kay learns that because the bonds from the New York show were sold in New York, they cannot be credited to Rocky Mount. Devastated by the news, Kay schemes to get the band to his hometown for another show by sending them urgent telegrams that lead them to believe that he is on his death bed.

Again, they quickly see through his ruse, but agree to put on the show as they are already in Rocky Mount. The bond sales do not go well though, and it does not look as if there will be enough for a destroyer until Julie and Phineas arrive. Believing that he can get Phineas to purchase the required amount of bonds, Kay gives the singing job to Julie. She goes out with him that night in order to obtain a contract, but the moonlight works its magic and the couple fall in love. Unable to deceive him any longer, Julie tells Kay the truth about her finances and tearfully runs off with Phineas the next morning. Phineas has a plan of his own though, and summons his relatives to Rocky Mount. That night, as Kay puts on the show, Phineas blackmails his relatives into buying enough bonds so that the town can obtain its destroyer. Julie goes to the auditorium to present the check to Kay, who quickly reconciles with her and shares the good news with the crowd.

14 February 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

14 February, 1945       1000

Germany

My dearest sweetest Valentine –

I hope you’ll excuse me for neglecting you – I so enjoyed the Valentines you sent me, dear – and I felt terrible that I hadn’t been able to send you at least one. You’ll just have to understand that Valentines were farthest from all our minds about the time they should have been sent out and they were unobtainable, anyway. I hope, though, that you received some notice of the day from me.

The Germans don’t know about Valentine’s Day, it seems, and so the War goes on with no display of hearts and flowers. We’re not making the news these days, darling, but believe me when I say that for some of the boys the fighting and the horrors of war are just as bitter as if we were making the headlines.

Yesterday was a dull, boring, long day – and I was glad when it was over. It seemed to drag more than even other slow days. I did manage to get over to a bath-house they have in this city and soak in a tub for about an hour – and then I took a shower. Boy! That’s really something. When we were in this city last – the place wasn’t open. Since then it was taken over by an American outfit which employs German laborers and they draw the water for the tub and clean up after you. When we first got here we all took 3 baths in a row to soak some of the dirt off us – it really was a relief.

I came across a letter of yours written 26 Dec. You had been to a party and had met a Bob Sherman and a Herb Almtuck. I believe I remember the Sherman boy. I can’t understand why he’s not in the service. As I remember him – he was a harmless enough sort of fellow and not overbright. I don’t know the other guy. He must have been in another class although he’s right about Leo Waitzkin. We were very friendly at Harvard and at Tufts although I’ve lost track of him since the war. He was doing Public Health work in Virginia when I last heard from him. He was quite an English scholar, by the way and got a Summa Cum and Phi Bet at Harvard for writing a brilliant thesis in his senior year on some obscure details about Shakespeare’s early days. It attracted the attention of Kittredge at the time.

I’m glad and happy, darling, that you can meet so-called eligible young men and not feel that you’re wasting your time waiting for me. I hope and feel certain you won’t be sorry. If you can still feel that way – that’s the test, I guess. I haven’t had a similar opportunity – although we did meet quite a few people in England. Needless to tell you again, sweetheart, you’re the girl for me and no one else will do!! I love you so deeply and earnestly – I don’t believe I’ve ever really been able to convey to you how much – and I left too darn soon to be able to show you. You must believe me, sweetheart, when I tell you that I love you more than anything or anyone in the world and from the day I knew we were engaged – my entire vision of my future life became centered on you. You’ll never doubt that either – when I get back and show you what I mean –

All for now, darling, got to do a couple of things. Love to the folks – and

My deepest love is yours –

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Personal Accounts of
The Bombing of Dresden

Here are a few personal memories of the bombing of Dresden. The first is from the list of stories on 384th Bomb Group Heavy website. The last two are from survivors of the bombings.

Jules Levison (Radio/gunner) describes the mission in this extract:

I was not scheduled to fly but Jerry Jerome's brother decided to get sick, so I had to fly in his place. I was kind of sore at first but later on was glad. Russ Holtz also flew on the crew and the pilot was Lt. Russell E Carlson.

At the request of the Russians, the target was Dresden as the Germans were sending a lot of traffic through that town. We hit the Marshaling Yards with eight 500GPs and two M-17 incendiaries. The Germans say that all we did was kill a lot of evacuees but personally it wouldn't surprise me to find out that we knocked out a locomotive or two.

On the way in we had to fly over the Zuider Zee, which is the home of Herman and his 4 guns. Herman is a German stationed on the Zuider Zee who fires his 4 guns at you when you fly over. He was a Corporal and one day he actually shot down a plane and they made him a Sergeant. Well, they must have made him a Staff because he got a plane in the group ahead of us. We saw it go down in a tight spin and only saw one chute open. It wasn't a pretty sight.

On the way home our gas was getting low so after much discussion we decided to land in Brussels, Belgium. I sent in a message to Combat Wing that we were landing there so we wouldn't be MIA.

We had quite a time in Brussels until our money ran out. Night clubs, clean sheets, good food, etc. We were there four days. On the second day the weather cleared and we could have taken off but the pilot was in town drunk. The next day we were all set to take off, there were 19 men in the plane as we were taking back a crew that had crashed. Everybody had a bottle of beer and the pilot was running up the engines with one hand and drinking beer with the other.

Here is an excerpt from a 1999 eye-witness account by Lothar Metzger, a survivor of the bombing:

About 9:30 pm the alarm was given. We children knew that sound and got up and dressed quickly, to hurry downstairs into our cellar which we used as an air raid shelter. My older sister and I carried my baby twin sisters, my mother carried a little suitcase and the bottles with milk for our babies. On the radio we heard with great horror the news: "Attention, a great air raid will come over our town!" This news I will never forget.

Some minutes later we heard a horrible noise - the bombers. There were nonstop explosions. Our cellar was filled with fire and smoke and was damaged, the lights went out and wounded people shouted dreadfully. In great fear we struggled to leave this cellar. My mother and my older sister carried the big basket in which the twins were lain. With one hand I grasped my younger sister and with the other I grasped the coat of my mother.

We did not recognize our street anymore. Fire, only fire wherever we looked. Our 4th floor did not exist anymore. The broken remains of our house were burning. On the streets there were burning vehicles and carts with refugees, people, horses, all of them screaming and shouting in fear of death. I saw hurt women, children, old people searching a way through ruins and flames.

We fled into another cellar overcrowded with injured and distraught men women and children shouting, crying and praying. No light except some electric torches. And then suddenly the second raid began. This shelter was hit too, and so we fled through cellar after cellar. Many, so many, desperate people came in from the streets. It is not possible to describe! Explosion after explosion. It was beyond belief, worse than the blackest nightmare. So many people were horribly burnt and injured. It became more and more difficult to breathe. It was dark and all of us tried to leave this cellar with inconceivable panic. Dead and dying people were trampled upon, luggage was left or snatched up out of our hands by rescuers. The basket with our twins covered with wet cloths was snatched up out of my mother's hands and we were pushed upstairs by the people behind us. We saw the burning street, the falling ruins and the terrible firestorm. My mother covered us with wet blankets and coats she found in a water tub.

We saw terrible things: cremated adults shrunk to the size of small children, pieces of arms and legs, dead people, whole families burnt to death, burning people ran to and fro, burnt coaches filled with civilian refugees, dead rescuers and soldiers, many were calling and looking for their children and families, and fire everywhere, everywhere fire, and all the time the hot wind of the firestorm threw people back into the burning houses they were trying to escape from.

I cannot forget these terrible details. I can never forget them.

Here is another extract from the memory from a survivor in the city, Margaret Freyer.

The firestorm is incredible, there are calls for help and screams from somewhere but all around is one single inferno.To my left I suddenly see a woman. I can see her to this day and shall never forget it. She carries a bundle in her arms. It is a baby. She runs, she falls, and the child flies in an arc into the fire.

Suddenly, I saw people again, right in front of me. They scream and gesticulate with their hands, and then — to my utter horror and amazement — I see how one after the other they simply seem to let themselves drop to the ground. (Today I know that these unfortunate people were the victims of lack of oxygen). They fainted and then burnt to cinders.

Insane fear grips me and from then on I repeat one simple sentence to myself continuously: "I don't want to burn to death". I do not know how many people I fell over. I know only one thing: that I must not burn.

Finally, an extract of what Edda West, in the April 2003 "Idaho Observer", wrote of this eye-witness account from a woman named Elisabeth. Elisabeth, who was a young woman of around 20 at the time of the Dresden bombing, has written memoirs for her children in which she describes what happened to her in Dresden. She was in her late 70’s at the time of her writing. First she sought shelter in the basement of the house in which she lived. Her story continues..

Then the detonation of bombs started rocking the earth and in a great panic, everybody came rushing down. The attack lasted about half an hour. Our building and the immediate surrounding area had not been hit. Almost everybody went upstairs, thinking it was over but it was not. The worst was yet to come and when it did, it was pure hell. During the brief reprieve, the basement had filled with people seeking shelter, some of whom were wounded from bomb shrapnel.

One soldier had a leg torn off. He was accompanied by a medic, who attended to him but he was screaming in pain and there was a lot of blood. There also was a wounded woman, her arm severed just below her shoulder and hanging by a piece of skin. A military medic was looking after her, but the bleeding was severe and the screams very frightening.

Then the bombing began again. This time there was no pause between detonations and the rocking was so severe, we lost our balance, and were tossed around in the basement like a bunch of ragdolls. At times the basement walls were separated and lifted up. We could see the flashes of the fiery explosions outside. There were a lot of fire bombs and canisters of phosphorous being dumped everywhere. The phosphorus was a thick liquid that burned upon exposure to air and as it penetrated cracks in buildings, it burned wherever it leaked through. The fumes from it were poisonous. When it came leaking down the basement steps somebody yelled to grab a beer (there was some stored where we were), soak a cloth, a piece of your clothing, and press it over your mouth and nose. The panic was horrible. Everybody pushed, shoved and clawed to get a bottle.

I had pulled off my underwear and soaked the cloth with the beer and pressed it over my nose and mouth. The heat in that basement was so severe it only took a few minutes to make that cloth bone dry. I was like a wild animal, protecting my supply of wetness. I don’t like to remember that.

The bombing continued. I tried bracing myself against a wall. That took the skin off my hands – the wall was so hot. The last I remember of that night is loosing my balance, holding onto somebody but falling and taking them too, with them falling on top of me. I felt something crack inside. While I lay there I had only one thought – to keep thinking. As long as I know I’m thinking, I am alive, but at some point I lost consciousness.

The next thing I remember is feeling terribly cold. I then realized I was lying on the ground, looking into the burning trees. It was daylight. There were animals screeching in some of them. Monkeys from the burning zoo. I started moving my legs and arms. It hurt a lot but I could move them. Feeling the pain told me that I was alive. I guess my movements were noticed by a soldier from the rescue and medical corps.

The corps had been put into action all over the city and it was they who had opened the basement door from the outside. Taking all the bodies out of the burning building. Now they were looking for signs of life from any of us. I learned later that there had been over a hundred and seventy bodies taken out of that basement and twenty seven came back to life. I was one of them – miraculously!

They then attempted to take us out of the burning city to a hospital. The attempt was a gruesome experience. Not only were the buildings and the trees burning but so was the asphalt on the streets. For hours, the truck had to make a number of detours before getting beyond the chaos. But before the rescue vehicles could get the wounded to the hospitals, enemy planes bore down on us once more. We were hurriedly pulled off the trucks and placed under them. The planes dived at us with machine guns firing and dropped more fire bombs.

The memory that has remained so vividly in my mind was seeing and hearing humans trapped, standing in the molten, burning asphalt like living torches, screaming for help which was impossible to give. At the time I was too numb to fully realize the atrocity of this scene but after I was “safe” in the hospital, the impact of this and everything else threw me into a complete nervous breakdown. I had to be tied to my bed to prevent me from severely hurting myself physically. There I screamed for hours and hours behind a closed door while a nurse stayed at my bedside.

I am amazed at how vivid all of this remains in my memory. It is like opening a floodgate. This horror stayed with me in my dreams for many years. I am grateful that I no longer have a feeling of fury and rage about any of these experiences any more – just great compassion for everybody’s pain, including my own.

The Dresden experience has stayed with me very vividly through my entire life. The media later released that the number of people who died during the bombing was estimated in excess of two hundred and fifty thousand – over a quarter of a million people. This was due to all the refugees who came fleeing from the Russians, and Dresden’s reputation as a safe city. There were no air raid shelters there because of the Red Cross agreement.

What happened with all the dead bodies? Most were left buried in the rubble. I think Dresden became one mass grave. It was not possible for the majority of these bodies to be identified. And therefore next of kin were never notified. Countless families were left with mothers, fathers, wives, children and siblings unaccounted for to this day.