10 November 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

10 November, 1944       1910

Dearest darling Wilma –

Well – after chasing around another day, here I am free for awhile and trying to relax by writing you, dear. It seems as if I’ve been jumping around quite a bit the past 36 hours or so, but I haven’t really traveled very far at all. I was again at A battery today and once more I didn’t get going until fairly late in the a.m. due to sick call and civilian patients. The latter are really keeping me busy, dear, and I’m seeing everything from impetigo and eczema to streptococcic sore throats and the hives. It’s welcome, for a change, too – and I’m beginning to feel like a doctor once again. But it’s odd how the minute you start practicing – so soon do you start doing night work. Last night I got into bed a little after 2100, listened to a program and a half and then started to drop off to sleep when someone began to ‘bang’ at the door, and sure enough it was a call for me. My first reaction is “the hell with them,” but dammit – I weaken right away. So – I dressed and went out and what a lousy night it was! I saw a woman who had had a severe chill and with no apparent cause; temp and pulse were normal and yet she didn’t look quite right. By the time I was through asking her questions, examining her and then getting some medicine for her – it was just after midnite, darling. Now – see what you’re in for? And I don’t even get paid for it, either – although my patients have given me all the butter and eggs I can possible eat. My ‘mother and baby’ – by the way – are doing fine and today I saw my name as the delivering doctor – on a German Birth Certificate. The boy will be named – you guessed it dear – Fritz.

I got one letter from Lawrence, today, the only letter I received. He wrote me all about his set-up and it sounded really good. I wish it could be longer than 7 weeks. I just happened to realize that a good friend of mine – a former 438th officer – and now a Capt in the Medical Administrative Corps – is at that hospital and I must write Lawrence to look him up. You were right in remarking in one of your letters that Law is a hard person to know; he is that; – but when you know him, you can’t help liking him because he’s as straightforward and honest as they come. As for the similarity in voice and manner between us, I don’t know. Off hand I’d say he’s more of a gentleman than I am.

So if we were married, dear, you’d know how to track me down, eh? I guess there’s no sense then in trying to dodge you, darling. You’d only track me down anyway; I surrender dear! I was glad to read also that you find my stationery clean, sweetheart. It’s sometimes so darned dark here that I can’t see what a sheet of paper looks like when I’ve written on it; I’ve never noticed the ‘grayness’ of your paper, though. And I’m glad to read that your mind is thinking along the right lines, too, e.g. thinking and planning where those English prints would go on a wall. I got 3 swell prints, unframed, in France; I don’t remember whether I ever told you about them or not, darling. I’ve got them in a portfolio and never found a suitable way of sending them home. They’re not very much, anyway, merely a souvenir from Carentan. There are two small outdoor scenes and one – the Cathedral at Rouen – as I remember it; I’ll try to hold onto them.

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Well, Sweetheart, I’ll stop now, write home and also write Lawrence. Then I have to censor some mail and check a few records in preparation for tomorrow’s reports. So again, dear, accept my deepest and sincerest love, be well, give my regards to the folks and continue to be as sweet as you are. For now, so long – and remember – my love is

Yours for always

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about the Explosion of the USS Mount Hood

Ammunition Ship USS Mount Hood (AE-11) was the lead ship of her class of ammunition ships for the United States Navy in World War II. Originally named Marco Polo, she was a cargo ship built under Maritime Commission contract. She was renamed Mount Hood on 10 November 1943, the first ship named after Mount Hood, a volcano in the Cascade Range in Oregon. Exactly one year after being renamed she was gone.

Launched on 28 November 1943, she was commissioned on 1 July 1944, with Harold A. Turner in command. Following an abbreviated fitting out and shakedown period in the Chesapeake Bay area, ammunition ship Mount Hood reported for duty on 5 August 1944. Assigned to carry her vital cargoes to the Pacific, she put into Norfolk, where her holds were loaded. On 21 August, she departed for the Panama Canal, transited that system of locks and lakes on the 27th, and continued on, independently, toward what would be her ultimate destination, Manus, the largest island in the Admiralty Islands, Papua, New Guinea. She arrived in Seeadler Harbor, 22 September, and commenced dispensing ammunition and explosives to ships preparing for the Philippine offensive.

USS Mount Hood

At 08:30, 10 November 1944, a party consisting of the communications officer, Lieutenant Lester H. Wallace, and 17 men left the ship and headed for shore. At 08:55, while walking on the beach, they saw a flash from the harbor, followed by two quick explosions. Scrambling into their boat, they headed back to their ship, only to turn around again shortly thereafter as "There was nothing but debris all around..."

USS Mount Hood Explosion

Mount Hood, anchored in about 35 feet (11 m) of water, had exploded with an estimated 3,800 tons of ordnance material on board including bombs, projectiles, fixed ammunition, rockets, both bodies and motors, smokeless powder, aerial depth bombs, and nose fuses. Torpex-loaded depth bombs were apparently coming aboard. The initial explosion caused flame and smoke to shoot up from amidships to more than masthead height. Within seconds, the bulk of her cargo detonated with a more intense explosion. Mushrooming smoke rose to 7,000 feet (2,100m), obscuring the ship and the surrounding area for a radius of approximately 500 yards (500m). Mount Hood's former position was revealed by a trench in the ocean floor 1,000 feet (300m) long, 200 feet (60m) wide, and 30 to 40 feet (9m to 12m) deep.

The largest remaining piece of the hull was found in the trench and measured no bigger than 16 by 10 feet (5m by 3m). No other remains of Mount Hood were found except fragments of metal which had struck other ships in the harbor and a few tattered pages of a signal notebook found floating in the water several hundred yards away. No human remains were recovered of the 350 men aboard Mount Hood or small boats loading alongside at the time of the explosion. The only survivors from the Mount Hood crew were the junior officer and five enlisted men who had left the ship a short time before the explosion. Two of the crew were being transferred to the base brig for trial by court martial; and the remainder of the party were picking up mail at the base post office. Charges against the prisoners were dropped following the explosion.

USS Mount Hood Cemetery in Manus

The concussion and metal fragments hurled from the ship also caused casualties and damage to ships and small craft within 2,000 yards (1,800m). The repair ship Mindanao, which was broadside-on to the blast, was the most seriously damaged. All personnel topside on Mindanao were killed outright, and dozens of men were killed or wounded below decks as numerous heavy fragments from Mount Hood penetrated the side plating. 82 of Mindanao's crew died. The damage to other vessels required more than 100,000 man-hours to repair, while 22 small boats and landing craft were sunk, destroyed, or damaged beyond repair; 371 sailors were injured from all ships in the harbor. After only a little over four months' service, Mount Hood was struck from the Naval Register on 11 December 1944.

Damage to USS Mindanao after USS Hood exploded

Although some eye-witnesses reported seeing a Japanese sub send a torpedo and some reported seeing a small Japanese plane drop a bomb, the Navy's official report following an investigation into the explosion and the reasons for it pointed to the following unsafe procedures and practices:

(A) That ammunition was being roughly handled in all parts of the ship.
(B) That boosters, fuses and detonators were stowed together in one hold in a manner contrary to regulations covering the transportation of military explosives.
(C) That broken rockets from which some powder was spilled had been stowed in two of the holds.
(D) That safety regulations for the handling of ammunition were not posted in conspicuous places throughout the ship and there was a general lack of instructions to the crew in safety measures.
(E) That pyrotechnics and napalm gel incendiaries were stowed in an open wood and tar-paper hut on deck under hazardous conditions near the hatch to Number Four hold.
(F) That there was evidence that fuzes, detonators and other ammunition were accepted on board which were definitely defective and should have been destroyed or disposed of by dumping in deep water.
(G) That fire hoses were not laid out. There was evidence that fire drills were infrequently held.
(H) That there was a lack of enforcing the prohibition of smoking in small boats alongside the ammunition vessel.

While "(G)" was certainly a breach in procedures, it is unlikely that fire hoses or previous drills could have saved the lives of those on board.

09 November 1944

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

9 November, 1944

Hello darling –

It’s 1700 and I’ve just got back from a busy day visiting one of our batteries. I’d no sooner go out when I’d get a call to come back to see a patient; that happened twice; then I got a call to come back because some officers were looking over the house where I was billeted with a view to moving in. So I dashed back again to protect my rights – and succeeded. Everyone is trying to get indoors – and you practically have to stand guard – not to lose your ‘home’. I went back to the Battery again, but by this time I had lost all interest in inspecting and I headed back here. And my spirits picked up tremendously when I read your letter of the 26th, sweetheart. Your letters sure do give me a lift, dear, – and I thought you knew that. I love what you write, how you write it – and I guess – everything else about you. Will stop for now and try to write more tomorrow. Love to the folks – and so long for now.

All my deepest love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about What General Hodges was Writing

The snapshots that follow were taken from Normandy to Victory: The War Diary of General Courtney H. Hodges & the First U.S. Army, maintained by his aides Major William C. Sylvan and Captain Francis G. Smith Jr.; edited by John T. Greenwood, copyright 2008 by the Association of the United States Army, pp. 168-170.

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08 November 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

8 November, 1944       1040

Good Morning, darling!

Well – we’ve been getting short election returns on the hour since 0700 this morning and it looks as if our man made it. The last flash at 1000 conceded 36 states to Roosevelt and said that Dewey had already congratulated the President. I’m glad that all that is over with because I have a suspicion we’ll really get going now, dear. I think the majority of the soldiers wanted to see Roosevelt re-elected whether they like him or not.

Yesterday was another quiet day here and I took care of routine duties most of the day. In case you’re not sure what those are, sweetheart, I’ll tell you. First of all – they are never the same. On the whole, though, when I am around it means supervising sick call, answering the phone a dozen times in the morning, telling this battery commander or that what is wrong with a soldier or where an injured soldier has been evacuated. Before I know it – it’s noon. In the p.m. I very often speak with the Colonel about some situation or other in one of the Batteries – concerning sanitation health and morale. For some reason or other he thinks I’m a good judge of the latter and he often asks me about that. In the late p.m. our daily S-2 report comes in and we study that quite carefully because it has a great deal of information on it these days. Then it is supper time and after that – either Bridge or a little reading. Last nite I read a Medical Journal and then got to bed early. My routine duties were never so organized as they have been the past several weeks – but that’s because we haven’t been tearing cross-country for some time, pretty soon though – I hope, dear.

We got no mail again yesterday and it seems as if they throw in a few bags here and there just to keep the boys satisfied. I’ve been rather fortunate, darling, but some of the other boys haven’t had a letter in days. I was sorry to read that Lois hadn’t heard from her husband in some time; undoubtedly she has by now – but they had some tough fighting down around where her husband has been – although I guess it’s tough everywhere.

Today marks one year since we left Camp Edwards and I’ll never forget how I hated to get on that train. We had turned in all our excess equipment, we had combat clothes and we knew that this time it was no false alarm; what I knew or felt more keenly was the fact I was leaving the vicinity of Boston, of home – of those I loved and I was truly unhappy. You and I were in – shall I say an awkward stage? I think we both knew then that we wanted each other – but time had run out too fast for us. It drizzled all the way down to New York and it was raining when we got off the train. Then with full packs and all, we had to hike about 2½ miles – uphill. We were a sad lot when we arrived. And then we really had a hectic week. We gave shots, did examinations, filled out blanks etc. We had that one pass to N. York and that was that. I sure wouldn’t like to go through all that again, believe me, darling – it was unpleasant. I’ll be very much interested in what my letters sounded like. All was a mess of contradictions and rumors; we could or could not do this; we could write this and not that; we couldn’t telephone, telegraph etc. I guess I broke about every rule in the Army books – but I was sure beginning to miss you, darling, and I haven’t stopped missing you for one moment since – and darling – I won’t stop missing you until that day I take you in my arms and say I’m back for good. All for now, dear, love to the folks and

All my sincerest love –

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about the 1944 Election Results

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As printed in The Miami Times on 8 November 1944:



The Facts

Nominee Franklin D. Roosevelt Thomas E. Dewey Party Democratic Republican Home state New York New York Running mate Harry S. Truman John W. Bricker Electoral vote 432 99 States carried 36 12 Popular vote 25,612,916 22,017,929 Percentage 53.4% 45.9%

Presidential election results map. Red denotes states won by Dewey/Bricker, Blue denotes those won by Roosevelt/Truman. Numbers indicate the number of electoral votes allotted to each state.

07 November 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

7 November, 1944       1300

My dearest sweetheart –

I got two swell letters from you yesterday – the only two the medical detachment received – by the way – and I’m getting caught up now a bit on your mail, dear. I hope mine is coming through to you a bit better too. You remark in one of your letters that “so long for now” is a G-I expression, or so you believe. I’ve always used those words, dear, and I don’t think I picked it up in the Army – but I’ve been in so damned long now – I really don’t remember a good many things about my civilian days. Do you realize, sweetheart, that you have never known me as a civilian but only as a soldier? I wonder how you’ll find me? As a matter of fact, I wonder how I’ll find myself. I guess every soldier finds himself thinking about that. It will be strange wearing different colored socks, and a tie around our necks. It’s a year since I’ve had one on – except of course when we had a pass in England. And I’m getting a little tired of this damned brownish-green stuff we wear. Every now and then I open my val-a-pac and air out my pinks and blouse; it’s so darned damp here we have to watch out for molds. They sure look fancy compared to the way we look these days. Now how did I get started on that? I’ll be crying on someone’s shoulder if I don’t stop – and I don’t really feel that way at all. You’ll marry me in uniform too – won’t you dear? I really think that once we get back to the States we’ll be de-mobilized quickly anyway.

I forgot all about the statement of mine concerning AA and the Pacific, dear. I wrote that to your mother and apparently forgot to mention it to you. And it wasn’t just a statement by a yokel – it was made by the commanding General of all AA – who happened to be on a tour over here and visited our battalion. He ought to be in a position to know. There was a time in our early days in Normandy when we were all worrying about that. There was so little of the Luftwaffe around for us to shoot at we figured we might be transferred. But later on we started getting targets and the artillery and infantry have recognized our value, I think. I’m worried more about the possibility of Lawrence having to go to the Pacific theater. I shouldn’t like that at all.

I didn’t know Red Perkins – but it’s a sad tale just the same. It’s the same old story – the folks at home are the ones that catch the most hell. That thought, incidentally dear, has always worried me more than anything else since I’ve been a soldier, and more recently since I’ve been in a combat area.

Say – you were feeling pretty high one day at the office – weren’t you – and without liquor – I presume! The idea of telling me you have a “funny” feeling, etc. and then adding that you are not pregnant!! What a day and age! You know, dear, psychically – you might be – for – I can dream, can’t I? And that Ginsburg story! Never mind, nevermind.

Oh – I was glad to read you received the bracelet. I haven’t received your letter telling me you had received yours, but in a later letter you mention Eleanor’s receiving hers and then add that you like yours. I thought it would be too big – but the fellow who makes them insisted they are worn loose and almost over the hand. And about that German helmet – I should have thought of it myself. They’re not so easy to get now – as they were back in France when the Germans were falling back headlong, but I’ll keep my eyes open – and the 1^st one I get hold of, I’ll send to him.

That’s all for the nonce, sweetheart; I’ve got to see a soldier with a possible fracture of the knee-cap – so I’ll be off. Until tomorrow, so long, dear, love to the folks – and

My everlasting love is yours –

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about The 28th Infantry in the Huertgen Forest
6-12 November 1944

Perhaps the most comprehensive collection of materials concerning "The Battle of the Huertgen Forest" was found on the former "Scorpio's Website". Most of the following was extracted from various parts of that site.

Fighting on 5 and 6 November took on a confusing and fragmented pattern. Small unit engagements occurred in the zones of all three regiments. The 110th Regiment had settled into a battle of attrition with the enemy. Progress was impossible given the ferocity of the enemy resistance, the well-positioned obstacles, and the difficult nature of the terrain. Soldiers of the regiment dug in almost within hand grenade range of the enemy. Each day they received new orders to attack and each day leaders forced men from their holes. Within minutes, the advance would be halted and soldiers would return to their cold, wet foxholes. Such persistence almost completely shattered the offensive capability of the 110th.

In the north, the 109th was also subjected to strong German pressure, but managed to hold on to its positions. In this portion of the forest, it was difficult for the Germans to support their attacks with armor. The lesson for both forces was that even in this restrictive terrain, attacks without armor support had little chance of success. The Germans managed to briefly cut the only supply route into Kommerscheidt, but a small American task force of armor and infantry reopened the Kall Trail on the morning of the sixth. The situation for the 28th was growing worse by the hour. By now the regiments discarded all thought of counter-offensive operations, they were instead fighting for their lives. Incredibly, the division continued to order units to attack, few of which complied. Many of the infantry companies were now well below 50 percent strength.

The 28th had lost all offensive capability and was fighting to survive. The division began to push replacements forward; at the head of the line were the 250 soldiers that the division trained in October. Brought forward during the night, these frightened and inexperienced soldiers were put into foxholes with little or no training. As an example, on 8 November, the 2/112 (2nd Battalion, 112th Infantry), with an authorized strength of approximately 850, received 515 replacements. Even more incredibly, the battalion received the mission to attack on the following morning. It was impossible for any unit to accept such large numbers of replacements and remain an effective force. For the unfortunate replacements it was almost a case of murder. Many of them would be evacuated at each sunrise, victims of trenchfoot, battle fatigue or enemy fire.

The enemy was not the only source of casualties within the 28th. The cold and wet weather, with temperatures hovering around freezing, took a terrible toll on soldiers. Trenchfoot and respiratory infection cases skyrocketed. Many soldiers were still without necessary cold weather clothing items such as overboots, field jackets, woolen caps, and long underwear. The continual lack of hot rations also damaged the health and morale of soldiers. Rations consisted of cold K-Rations or C-Rations and many soldiers ceased eating. The situation was much too dangerous to risk bringing hot meals or drinks forward. The soldiers were also unable to build fires, since their proximity to the enemy was sure to draw rifle and mortar fire. Less than a week into the operation the division was virtually worn out as a fighting force.

On the morning of 6 November, another infantry battalion collapsed. This time it was the 2/112th, defending an exposed position along a ridge near the town of Vossenack. The battalion had been subjected to almost continuous fire from German artillery for three days. Soldiers, most of them green replacements, had become so demoralized that leaders had to force them to eat and drink. Finally, they were pushed beyond the breaking point. Imagining themselves about to be overrun, first one soldier, then another began to head for the rear. The panic became overpowering for many of the soldiers. The efforts of officers and NCO's could halt only a small percentage. There had been no German counterattack, only blind panic. The 2/112th was left with only a thin line of resistance holding half of the town. An engineer battalion rushed in to bolster the defenses. The next morning the engineers attacked and within hours cleared the remainder of Vossenack of German resistance.

On 7 November 1944 the Germans struck the 1/112th in Kommerscheidt, protected from air attack by a steady winter rain. The defenders held firm initially, but gradually began to pull back under the weight of the German attack. The 1st Battalion conducted its withdrawal in good order and managed to reestablish a weak defensive line just outside the town. The panic that had impacted the other two battalions of the 112th did not occur in Kommerscheidt. In a pitched fight, the Americans knocked out six Panzers against three M-10s and two Shermans lost.

In the middle of the fight, an erroneous message directed Colonel Peterson to report immediately to the division command post, leaving Colonel Ripple in command. The regimental commander reluctantly left the position with two men and a jeep and started down the trail that led to Vossenack. At the bottom of the draw the party was ambushed. Colonel Peterson and Private First Class Seiler were able to get away only to be cut down a few seconds later. Colonel Peterson was seriously wounded. After being left for dead, he managed to drag himself out of the draw where he was picked up and carried back to the Division Command Post. When Cota saw Peterson arrive, exhausted, twice-wounded and semi-delirious, the general fainted. Here Peterson learned that the message he had received was not sent by the Division Commaner. Who sent the message was never determined.

By noon the Germans had reduced the village. Driven out, the last Americans, with only two tank destroyers and one tank left, narrowly held on to the woods line above the Kall Gorge. By the end of the day, the defenders had been pushed from the town. The following day, this small group of infantry and armor, along with other scattered elements still on the east side of the Kall River, withdrew to the west bank. This withdrawal effectively ended offensive operations for the division. The 28th division ordered further attacks in the zones of the 109th and 110th Regiments. The units executed the attacks with little determination and achieved nothing except to add to the division's casualty totals. Finally, on 14 November, the Huertgen ordeal came to an end for the 28th Infantry Division.

The second attack on Schmidt had developed into one of the most costly US divisional actions in the whole of the Second World War. In all, the 28th Division and attached units had lost 6,184 men. Hardest hit was the 112th infantry: 232 men captured, 431 missing, 719 wounded, 167 killed, and 544 non-battle casualties — a total of 2,093.

06 November 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

6 November, 1944       1305

Dearest sweetheart –

We’re really missing all the pre-election ballyhoo over here and it’s already the 6th – with tomorrow the big day. I hope it will be Roosevelt because the German propaganda on the radio has been terrific, and if he should perchance lose no one would be happier than the Nazis who would certainly push the fact down our throats. It’s for that reason more than any other that I hope Roosevelt is re-elected. I think the conduct of the war would be little affected if Dewey became President, although Roosevelt is undoubtedly the stronger man for post-war days.

Yesterday, darling, was another quiet day and I remained close to battalion all day. I had a couple more private patients and a few of our own boys showed up for sick-call. My newly delivered mother is doing fine – as is the baby, by the way. In the p.m. Headquarters made another attempt to show “The Primitive Man” – and the projector was O.K. I got more of a kick out of the picture than I expected – it was just slap-stick enough to cause us to chuckle and it helped pass a couple of otherwise boring hours. The evening was especially dull – and I got into bed at nine; I was kind of tired from being up the night before on that delivery. I listened to the news and then heard a re-broadcast of a Charlie McCarthy program – and before I knew it – I was off to sleep – undisturbed except for one short interval.

This morning I was up early and almost went to Liege with a patient – but I sent my driver in alone. I thought I might look around and buy something but changed my mind when I heard what one of our officers had to say. He had just come back from a 5 day trip in which he went after our monthly liquor ration. He spent two days in Paris and raved about the city, its life, etc. I’ve heard that from several sources now and it must be true. All agree that London and New York have to take second place to Paris. But they have gone haywire on prices; cognac is 80 francs ($1.60) for less than an ounce, beer is 40 francs a glass, and goods in the stores are practically beyond reach. What makes everyone sore is that all prices in legitimate markets have been established or O.K.’ed by the Civil Government – under American control. They’re really racketeering – are the Frenchmen and I guess the way they figure it – it’s a long time between wars. Anyway – I sent all my last month’s pay home to be deposited – although I could cash a check if I had a chance to take off for a day or two.

Say – dear – I know I can’t stop you from worrying – but I don’t want you to worry about me too much. There was a time you wrote me that you didn’t worry, you had faith – and all would be all right. Well you better go back to that way of thinking sweetheart, because it’s healthier in the long run. I’m all right and taking good care of myself, and what is more – I plan to continue to do the same. I have faith, too, and what is also very very important, dear, I have a goal in life, I have something worthwhile to come home to – and I want to come home to that very very much; that makes all the difference in the world, darling, so just sit back and relax a bit – because all will be well some day and we’ll both have what we want more than anything else in the world – each other.

All for now, dear; my love to the folks and

All my everlasting love,

Greg.

* TIDBIT *

about Franklin Delano Roosevelt's
1944 Run for the Presidency

From The Miller Center at the University of Virginia's American President: A Reference Resource comes this summary of the Presidential Election of 1944:

In 1944, in the midst of war, Roosevelt made it known to fellow Democrats that he was willing to run for a fourth term. Democrats, even conservative southerners who had long been suspicious of FDR's liberalism, backed Roosevelt as their party's best chance for victory. FDR received all but 87 of the votes of the 1,075 delegates at the Democratic National Convention. The real intrigue came with the Democratic nomination for vice president. FDR decided against running with his current vice president, the extremely liberal Henry Wallace, fearing that Wallace's politics would open a rift in the party between liberals (concentrated in the northeast) and conservatives (largely hailing from the south.) Instead, Senator Harry Truman of Missouri, who had the backing of the south, the big-city bosses in the party, and at least the tacit approval of FDR, took the vice-presidential nomination.

Republicans nominated Thomas Dewey, the popular governor of New York State, chosen with only one Republican delegate voting against him. Dewey ran as a moderate Republican, promising not to undo the social and economic reforms of the New Deal, but instead to make them more efficient and effective. Dewey, like Willkie four years earlier, was an internationalist in foreign affairs, voicing support for a postwar United Nations. One of Dewey's most effective gambits was to raise discreetly the age issue. He assailed the President as a "tired old man" with "tired old men" in his cabinet, pointedly suggesting that the President's lack of vigor had produced a less than vigorous economic recovery.

FDR, as most observers could see from his weight loss and haggard appearance, was a tired man in 1944. But upon entering the campaign in earnest in late September, 1944, Roosevelt displayed enough passion and fight to allay most concerns and to deflect Republican attacks. With the war still raging, he urged voters not to "change horses in mid-stream." Just as important, he showed some of his famous campaign fire. In a classic speech before the International Brotherhood of Teamsters, FDR belittled the Republican attacks on him. In recalling the charges from a Minnesota congressman who accused FDR of sending a battleship to Alaska to retrieve his dog Fala, FDR had this to say:

05 November 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

5 November, 1944       1100

My dearest darling Wilma –

I’ve just finished sick-call and I thought I’d get started on this before lunch. I’ve been kept busy the past 24 hours or so and there’s no telling when I’ll be interrupted. There was no mail yesterday for anyone. In the evening we were supposed to have a movie – something called “The Primitive Man”. We never did get to see it because something went wrong with our projector – so we ended up playing bridge again, drinking a bit of Rhine Wine – and spent a pleasant evening. I was disturbed by a couple of little things before finally getting to sleep. In the middle of the night, 0315 to be exact, I was awakened by a tapping on my window; I was sure it was parachutists – but dammit – I had left my pistol in the dispensary. Anyway I yelled out and heard a woman’s voice and the voice of one of our guards. There was a woman about to have a baby and they needed a doctor. I didn’t know the woman, but we’ve been in town long enough now so that everyone, I guess, knows where the ‘Herr Doktor’ lives. It’s been a long long time since I’ve been called on a civilian night case. I got up, went over to the Dispensary and managed to get together a kit. The delivery was easy and all went well. The mother had a nice little baby boy – about 7 lbs I should say – and she was happy because she had 3 girls. The father, incidentally, is dead – about 2 months ago, I believe. As I walked back to my room I couldn’t help but appreciate the paradox of our being here to kill Germans – and yet bringing new ones into the world who may be fighting in some other war. Oh well – he’ll be named Fritz – after his father – and he really is a cute baby.

In one of your letters of last month, dear, you mentioned you were surprised that I might be willing to leave the lucky 438th to join a hospital perhaps. I admit – that was a change in policy for me, but the longer we stay in a war area, sweetheart, the more aware you become that there just isn’t such a thing as a lucky outfit; everyone gets his share – from what I’ve been able to observe. That reminds me – you also mentioned that Les was now in France. Do you know his outfit – or address? See if you can get it for me, dear, – you never can tell, I may be able to look him up. And also by the way, dear, who told you I was near Aachen? Yes, it did keep us up, – and more than that.

You really gave me a comfortable insight into home life one day when you wrote about my coming home after a hard day’s work and relaxing, etc. One thing you must remember, though, and that is that a doctor doesn’t come home – very often his day is right at home – and even if his office is in another spot, he is still at home part of the day. In other words, darling, you’ll have to see me on and off during the day as well as at night. Will that be all right? But the picture of us – even in the mind – spending a quiet evening at home – sure is a pleasant vision and oh how often I think about it! And don’t you worry about my being lonesome these days; there’s nothing you can do more than you are, dear, and that is to continue to write me the sweet and thoughtful things you do. That’s all I want and need right now.

You mentioned your Birthday present and being excited about it. I hope you won’t be disappointed – but it was all that was available. Incidentally – I do hope it gets to you. There are now two parcels on the way – it’s over two weeks now, I guess. I haven’t had them returned and I just hope they get through. Oh yes – neither parcel is marked in such a way that you could tell which is your present – so you can consider either one as it; better still – if you get them – call them both your Birthday gift.

Well, darling, I was not interrupted, but now it is near time to eat and I’d better be off. So I’ll say so long once more – but only in writing – because actually, dear, I am with you every part of the day – in every sense of the word – except physical.

Regards and love to the folks – and

My sincerest love –

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Schmidt, Kommerscheidt and Vossenack
3-5 November 1944

CLICK ON MAPS TO ENLARGE

Perhaps the most comprehensive collection of materials concerning "The Battle of the Huertgen Forest" was found on the former "Scorpio's Website". Most of the following was extracted from various parts of that site.

Schmidt
While the successful capture of Vossenack on 3 November 1944 had earned praise from the 28th Division commander, Major General Cota, the failure of 1/112 (1st Battalion, 112th Infantry) to cross the Kall, or even advance much past Germeter, had been disappointing. The next day, 3/112 had been chosen to lead the next attempt. The new plan had called for a movement through Vossenack, bypassing the defended woods to cross the Kall at the Mestrenger Muhle (shown on the map above) and then move on Schmidt. 1/112, less B Company, would follow the 3rd Battalion, and Armored 707th Tank Battalion was to support the entire operation. This time, the attack had been startlingly successful, with the German defenders in Schmidt caught by surprise and driven out handily.

A state of euphoria had swept the division and corps headquarters. Unfortunately, the 3rd Battalion had been the only unit from the 112th that had reached Schmidt on 3 November. The battalion also had been without armor support. The only route into Schmidt open to the division had been the Kall Trail and this route had been proving to be nearly impassable for armor. The 3rd Battalion had been dangerously exposed and its only anti-tank weapons had been mines and bazookas. Its soldiers had become cold, wet, and exhausted. Leaders and soldiers alike had sought out warm buildings during the night and had prepared only the most rudimentary of defenses. The battalion had sent out no patrols during the night leaving the commander blind to what was around his bunk.

The 109th and the 110th had made no progress on 3 November. In the south, tough German defenses had continued to hold the 110th in check. Casualties for the regiment had mounted steadily. The infantry units, unsupported by tanks, had continued to force the assault despite the heavy casualties. By the end of the day, they still had had nothing to show for their sacrifices. In the north the initial success of the 109th also had ground to a halt. At dawn the 109th had fought off two counterattacks and subsequently had canceled plans for its own attack toward the town of Huertgen. Much like the forward elements of the 112th, the 109th had found itself surrounded on three sides by well dug-in defenders.

Then, in the early hours of 4 November, disaster had struck when a strong German counterattack, composed of armor from the 116th Panzer Division and infantry forces from the 89th Infantry Division, had attacked the 3rd Battalion in Schmidt just after dawn. German artillery had conducted a brief but fierce shelling of the town immediately prior to the German assault. The shelling had stunned the American infantry in their hastily prepared positions.

The German infantry had followed the shelling by attacking the town from almost every angle. German tanks, impervious to the bazooka fire of the American infantrymen, had followed close on the heels of the attacking infantry. Due to communications difficulties, American artillery had not begun to provide support until the German attack was over an hour old. Confusion within the 3/112th had grown rapidly and soon had turned into panic. Soldiers had begun to flee for the woods and leaders had lost all semblance of control. In little more than three hours of fighting the Germans had recaptured Schmidt and the 3/112th had ceased to exist as an effective combat force.

Kommerscheidt
The German counterattack next had struck the 1/112th, defending the village of Kommerscheidt. Here the American defenses had been better prepared and had had armor support in the form of three Sherman tanks. Leaders also had rounded up and put into the line approximately 200 of the panic-stricken soldiers from Schmidt. The defenders had beaten back the German attack, though not without substantial losses. Early the next morning, nine tank destroyers and six tanks had further reinforced the position at Kommerscheidt. This discouraged any immediate German efforts to launch another counterattack on Kommerscheidt.

Meanwhile, in the Kall gorge the Germans had gained the upper hand. They had infiltrated the main supply route and had mined the trail, leaving both the 3d Platoon, Company B, 20th Engineers, and two squads of the 3d Platoon, Company C, 20th Engineers, unaccounted for. Company A, 20th Engineers, was still virtually intact in a defensive bivouac near the entrance of the trail into the woods southeast of Vossenack. A four-man security guard was presumably still at the Kall bridge, but for all practical purposes the enemy controlled the vital river bridge. The 28th Division's G-2 Periodic Report for 5 November, in making estimates of enemy capabilities, had failed to mention the possibility of enemy action coming down either end of the undefended Kall gorge.

The Kall Trail, from Vossenack toward Kommerscheidt

Vossenack
At Vossenack the situation was perhaps worst of all, though its seriousness was perhaps not so readily apparent. Remnants of the 2d Battalion, 112th Infantry, still held the town, but they had been subjected to three days and four nights of murderous fire from German artillery, self-propelled guns, and mortars. The men had undergone about all they could stand.

Early in the morning the 2d Squad of the 1st Platoon, Company F, under Staff Sergeant Charles W. Cascarano, in position at the head of a shallow wooded draw leading into the positions on the east, saw about twenty Germans moving in a column of twos through the wooded draw toward its positions. The squad's automatic rifleman sprayed the Germans with fire, wounding nine, killing four, and putting the rest to flight. The wounded Germans lay where they had fallen for about: four or five hours, moaning and crying, before five German medics with a cart: picked them up.

The enemy shelled the open ridge with artillery from the direction of the Brandenberg-Bergstein ridge and with self-propelled guns and tanks, sometimes firing twenty or thirty rounds at one foxhole before shifting targets. The men noticed no lessening in the fire even when American planes were overhead. In the Company E area, four men who were using a barn for shelter were buried in an avalanche of baled hay when the upper part of the barn collapsed from a direct artillery hit. Frantic efforts by others of the company to dig out the men were unavailing, and the building burned.

Just before dark enemy shelling methodically wiped out six men in two-man foxholes of Company G along the trail that was an extension of the town's main street. When the men near by saw their companions blown to bits, some pulled back to the houses, leaving an undefended gap of more than a hundred yards in the center of the defense. Efforts by officers of both Company G and Company F to fill this gap went for nought. The troops ordered into the holes, utterly fatigued, their nerves shattered, many of them crying unashamedly, would return to the dubious protection of the houses.

The regular Company E commander, 1st Lt. Melvin R. Barrilleaux, who had returned the night before from a Paris leave, visited his platoons after dark. He found most of his men so affected by the shelling that he felt they all should be evacuated. Many were in such a shocked, dazed condition that the platoon leaders had to order them to eat, and one platoon leader was himself evacuated for combat exhaustion. Virtually the same situation existed in the other three companies.

The battalion commander, Lt. Col. Theodore S. Hatzfeld, had himself become a virtual combat exhaustion case. He insisted on remaining at his post, but Captain John D. Pruden, the battalion executive officer, conducted the major command functions. The company commanders reported the situation to battalion; battalion informed them it was being reported to regiment; and no relief came.

04 November 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

4 November, 1944       0930

My dearest darling –

There were very few letters in the mail yesterday – but I got three of them and all from you, dear, and the latest was written 20 October. That made the rest of the day a success, darling, because I love the content of your letters. The fact is that the way you express yourself, sweetheart, is very satisfying to one who has to be separated from the one he loves. You often write that you ‘feel’ something and can’t make it clear to me. Well you’re all wrong, darling, because I understand all that you say and I love the way you say it. Certainly love is a peculiar thing in the way it makes you feel inadequate. I often feel as if I were the luckiest fellow in the world and I want to tell you about it, yet when I write it and read what I’ve written, it seems to fall short. But over a period of time, dear, I think the message gets across – I believe so anyway.

I was especially interested in your letter of 17 October, dear. You had just been out for a walk by yourself and had done some good thinking. That’s the only time a person can really clear his mind, I think – when he’s alone – and in the open. Being outside makes a good deal of difference, too, because it seems as if your thoughts can really expand. I used to do that a great deal when I was in Salem and the war has allowed me ample opportunity to continue. Of course – I’m a rather introspective person, anyway, but practically so – I believe. I didn’t know you well enough, dear, before I left – to know whether you were introspective too. I’ve come to find out since – that you are – and I’m glad – because a person who can be introspective – can usually think things out.

Marriage is supposed to make two people intimate – but I’m afraid that more often than not that intimacy is sexual only – and if that’s all it gives – then you’re better off not married. The intimacy must involve an understanding of every like and dislike, of every thought – if possible – and certainly an understanding of every mood. No two people – except two mentally diseased perhaps – can live together, without some difference of opinion, some contralateral likes or dislikes; but if they can realize that fact, occasionally give ground, wait until a mood has passed – those two people can live happily. From what I can gather from your letters – I didn’t know you in the States long enough to find out – I know we’re going to be happy. Why did I want to become engaged to you then – you may wonder? The answer is that I saw it in you letters right from the start. I know so much more about you from our correspondence, darling, than I do from our being together – but we were together long enough to complete the picture. No – you are not too idealistic, dear; on the contrary – you are being very realistic in stating what you want. I’ll try not to disappoint you. I know we’ll belong to each other in every sense of the word.

The letter of the 17th also included your transcription of some cartoons, sweetheart, which I enjoyed. You’re really ambitious to take the trouble to do it, dear – and I appreciate it. And now I see some patients coming to visit me and I’ll have to stop now. Today it was I who rambled on – but from all of it – you must realize how much I love you and want you, darling – because I do – with all my heart. You shall see – So long for now, dear, love to the folks – and

My everlasting love

Greg.

* TIDBIT *

about Evacuation from the Line

Extracted from the U.S. Army Medical Department's Office of Medical History's web site's 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 (Chapter XI).

From the place on the battlefield where the aidmen treated a casualty and marked his position, ETO divisional medical installations and hence the chain of evacuation stretched rearward over a considerable distance. By late 1944 battalion aid stations typically set up at least a mile behind the engaged infantry and armor elements, to reduce losses from artillery and mortar fire among essential, hard-to-replace doctors and technicians. Collecting stations usually took position about a mile back of the aid stations. Clearing stations remained 3 to as many as 15 miles behind the fighting line, to be free of the patient-disturbing noise and counterbattery fire danger or their own corps and division artillery.

Since the Battle of the Hedgerows they had used collecting company ambulances, supplemented by trucks for walking wounded, to evacuate their battalion aid stations. By late autumn they routinely extended motor transport forward of the aid stations as well, whenever possible right to the place where casualties lay on the battlefield. Medics now used jeeps, belonging to battalion aid stations and collecting companies, in preference to litterbearers, for moving wounded in the forward areas. Fitted with brackets for carrying litters, these small sturdy vehicles could go most places men on foot could; they could accommodate two or three litters each, and as many ambulatory patients as ingenious drivers could crowd on board. When their jeeps bogged down in mud and snow, medics often switched to the M-29 Weasel, a small tracked cargo vehicle that had about the same litter capacity as the jeep. Armored division surgeons used light tanks and tank retrievers to move their wounded over ground impassable to jeeps and regular ambulances.

Evacuation Jeep and Weasel fitted with litters

[CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE]

Infantry battalion and collecting company litterbearers (the latter all but supplanted by ambulances for work to the rear of the aid stations) customarily combined forces to remove wounded from the battlefield. They were far too few for the job during intense combat and when weather, terrain, or the tactical situation prevented vehicles from assisting them. The Huertgen fighting, in particular, absorbed bearers at an almost intolerable rate. The 1st Infantry Division, during its time in the forest, used 240 additional litterbearers; the 4th Division employed 140. The 68th Medical Group, for example, which supported the VII Corps, provided infantry divisions in the Huertgen Forest with over 450 reinforcement bearers, including the enlisted personnel of two entire collecting companies.

Litter bearers in the Huertgen Forest

In especially difficult tactical situations, infantry battalion and collecting company medics resorted to all manner of expedients to keep evacuation going. Such was the case during the disastrous attack of the 28th Infantry Division in the Huertgen Forest early in November. In this operation the 1st and 3d Battalions of the 112th Infantry seized a salient of key high ground around the villages of Schmidt and Kommerscheidt, deep in German-held territory, and then came under heavy infantry, tank, and artillery counterattack from three sides.

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE

Attack on Schmidt from three sides

The battalions' route of supply and evacuation consisted of a narrow trail, muddy from the incessant rain, which wound its way down into the gorge of the Kall River and then up another ridge to the American-held town of Vossenack, some 2 miles northwest of Kommerscheidt. Vossenack itself was under intense German infantry attack, as well as artillery bombardment from high ground to its northeast.

The battalion surgeons, Captains Paschal A. Linguiti, MC, of the 1st and Michael De Marco, MC, of the 3d, faced a difficult evacuation problem. Ambulances from their supporting collecting company could not negotiate the trail across the Kall.

Tank Destroyers on the muddy Kall Trail

Hence, the battalions had to send casualties back in jeeps and weasels to an ambulance loading point near the top of the ridge at Vossenack. Linguiti initially set up his 1st Battalion aid station in a basement in Kommerscheidt; De Marco, with his 3d Battalion station, took position about a mile farther to the rear, west of the Kall, sheltered in a cave-like 18-by-12-foot dugout built into the steep hillside that bordered the trail. The station in Kommerscheidt in effect functioned as an advance collecting point; it sent wounded in whatever vehicles were available to the 3d Battalion installation for relay on up the hill to the ambulance loading point.

Battalion Aid Station personnel readying
casualties for evacuation farther to the rear

As the American position at Schmidt and Kommerscheidt deteriorated, so did the evacuation situation. Linguiti and De Marco consolidated their two aid stations in the dugout. Litter patients, eventually about sixty-five of them, accumulated in and around the dugout. Linguiti and De Marco cared for them as best they could, helped by their MAC assistant surgeons, the battalion chaplains, a dwindling contingent of enlisted medics, and infantry stragglers whom the surgeons disarmed and pressed into service as attendants and litterbearers. The medics had adequate food for their patients and enough medical supplies for what little treatment they were attempting, but they were short of blankets and shelter. The dugout could accommodate only about twenty-five patients. The remainder, wrapped in what coverings were available, lay along the trail in the cold, rain, and snow, protected by soldiers holding Red Cross flags. This protection was needed because, during the final days of the battle, German troops infiltrating behind the 1st and 3d Battalions periodically visited the aid station. However, except for announcing that the medics were captured and making sure that no armed Americans were present, the Germans left the facility unmolested. They allowed American walking wounded to reach the station and at one point offered Linguiti and De Marco food and medicine, which the surgeons declined. Nevertheless, the Germans did confiscate the aid station's few vehicles.

After the survivors of the 1st and 3d Battalions withdrew from Kommerscheidt on the night of 8-9 November, in the process inundating the aid station with a final stream of walking and litter-borne casualties, Linguiti and De Marco and their staff and patients remained within German lines. The enemy evidently had neither the means nor the inclination to remove the American doctors and wounded. The local German commander agreed to a truce, proposed by the 112th Infantry's surgeon, Maj. Albert L. Berndt, MC, for removal of both sides' casualties from the Kall valley. Under this arrangement the battalion surgeons, after further adventures with a German unit not party to the truce, eventually managed to assemble a makeshift truck and weasel convoy to carry themselves, the other medical officers and men, the chaplains, and the severely wounded back to American lines. However, they had to surrender the lightly wounded and their non-medical personnel as prisoners of war.