大象传媒

To look above at the star lit sky and pray to him above to hold ones head and question "why" what is this word called love.

This is a true story of the landing on Omaha beach by the USA soldiers, during D-Day and the slaughter imposed by the Germans before the beach was taken. This event took place on June the sixth, 1944.

I shall not begin this epic story until I relate something of my early life and in some ways it could be as interesting as the battles I was engaged in. I hope the reader understands this for to realize the meaning of the word nightmare I will have to begin at the beginning and not start it at the middle. Never will I forget the killings I performed nor the hell I went through including details of the blood stained battles I was engaged in and their certainly are no words that can describe the agony I went through. This bloodshed went on for twenty-eight days then I became wounded; shot by the enemy. In a way I feel I was very lucky, for as sure as God makes little green apples, if the sniper had aimed slightly higher the bullet that went through my wrist would have more then likely hit my head and I would not be telling this tale of woe.

Read the story my friends and tell me if the Motto taught in my basic training is true, for I now believe they definitely were and the words I will remember all my life "Kill or be Killed." I can look back on the training given to me and without a doubt these were the most important words spoken. If the person reading this story wants to know more about the battles during World War Two then keep reading and lets hope to God I have not transferred the nightmares I have had to someone else.

Later on I will tell why I sat down to write this tale. I repeat again if it had not been for my family I would have let sleeping dogs lie, for turning up the past has brought all the horrors back again. Without the help and pushing of my grandson Ben this story would not have been told. Although it has brought back many forgotten memories and I again relive the past maybe, just maybe it will make people think twice before declaring War, but I do admit sometimes it is forced on you. When I was a youngster just beginning school we were taught many lessons and I do believe the most important one was how you treated the older generation. This may sound silly to the school children of today but remember this, "one day and maybe not too long in the future, you yourself will be old." If I performed something I should not have done as a lad and was caught in the act of doing it, normally I would have my bum smacked and if I went crying to my dad, he'd paddle me again for doing it. Did it teach me a lesson? Well you bet your life it did. I can honestly say I never repeated the same mistake twice. Never in all my life did I think that one day I would leave my place of birth and travel the world. History at school made me very interested in lands of other people, and I had been very interested in Europe.

One subject taught me that France had given the Statue of Liberty to the United States after the war of independence. This made me think (as a boy) this country must be a grand place to live in, but years later I regretted thinking this. I with many of my comrades fought in and on the beaches of this country to liberate it from the Germans. America lost over two hundred and fifty thousand men during this war with Germany and Japan, and God knows how many of these were on the land of the French. I can though confirm that over two thousand men lost their lives on the beach that I landed on and the hellholes name was "Omaha". What amazes me is why France never gave America some type of recognition of the invasion even a medal. Maybe the reason why this was not given is because in value they were worth nothing. Most soldiers only kept them as they were given of proof of battles, but mostly shown for sentimental reasons.

May I thank everyone who has read this book and may the good Lord forever be with you.
CPL W H NELSON
315th Infantry Division
United States Army

Preface.

I have travelled the highways and the byways of life, always having my ups and downs, but one thing is certain. I was born poor and will die poor; I hasten to say like many more of my generation. Many years ago I visited by chance an American War cemetery in Belgium and in all my civilian life, I have never been in a more serene and peaceful place. The crosses and large wall of dead soldiers' names lay all around me. I sensed a feeling that I was being accepted by the spirits of my chums and saw a few names I knew and stopped to pray.

This may sound strange to the reader of this tale, but many a time my soldier friends and myself asked the question, "why were we doing basic training, there was no conflict of any kind in our country, and who the hell was Hitler?" The Japanese we could understand and hated them for their sly way of bombing Pearl Harbour, but the Germans, well in our way of thinking it was a European problem. This probably was shown by the nasty remarks sometimes said, "you left it long enough", or the many times I was told, "go home yank", and I believe at the young age of twenty, I would gladly have done so.

The French were no different, in fact they had been under occupation so long that many did exactly as the Germans wanted, and many Americans died because of this. Sometimes I wonder whether we really were welcome, for many a time we were accused of saying we won the war, and of course my reply is now, " if we didn't, who the hell did? ".

I would like to dedicate this story to all my war comrades, who are still alive even though they become fewer each year and to all my young buddies who died. They would probably turn in their graves if they could see the world today. The medals we earned, are worth not an iota to what a man gets today for winning a competition. Yet a soldier preparing to give his life for the freedom of others earned these bits of metal. Which is more important, "kicking a football, winning at sports, or fighting to liberate whole countries. All the American soldiers fighting in World War Two did not fight because of money. They fought because they believed in a free world, and to do this they had to fight to liberate countries from dictators. I believe very strongly, each liberated country should give a hearty voice of "Thank you."

I survived the war and when I at last leave this life, I will be forgotten, and only the dead in the war cemetery will be remembered. One question in this part of the story is, Hitler took his life as should be, but why was it the worse of the two, the Emperor of Japan, lived to die of old age?

CONTENTS PAGE

Chapter One: Family Life and Conscription.

Chapter Two: Basic Training and Manoeuvres.

Chapter Three: England and the Journey to Omaha.

Chapter Four: The Landing from Hell.

Chapter Five: The Journey Inland.

Chapter Six: The Road to St. Lo.

Chapter Seven: Death From Above.

Chapter Eight: A Life Changing Event.

Chapter Nine: Through the Panama Canal.

Chapter Ten: The Journey to Okinawa and the Flash.

Chapter Eleven: Day Trip to Si Soce and Iwo Jima.

Chapter Twelve: The Hurricane.

Chapter Thirteen: The Journey Home.

Chapter Fourteen: Back to Work.

Chapter Fifteen: Hospital Revisited.

Chapter Sixteen: Retirement and Reflection.

Chapter One: Family Life and Conscription.

I start this tale with the realization that it could read like a fairy tale and maybe in a way it does, for all children believe in the little men, and I certainly did when I was a boy. On January 27th 1924 a boy child was born, but this was a special occasion, for it was a birthday present to his mother. I do not know if my mother appreciated the pain she went through giving me life, but anyway I'm sure she and dad loved me. It's just that I'm sure my father had to work a bit harder for there was another mouth to feed, and I was the seventh in the Nelson family to be born.

My father's name was John and my mum's name was Glady's, her maiden name being Reeves. Her parents all came from England, whereas my father and his brother and sister were Swedes. Simon, my father's brother, settled in Gloucester Mass, and dad married my mother in Camden, Maine. If I were to describe my parent鈥檚 outstanding features it would be quite easy, for it was their height. Dad was all of six feet tall, yet mom was less than five feet. Looking at them from behind my mother looked like my fathers daughter.

My father gave up the captain鈥檚 job on the fishing schooner to marry my mum and raise a family. He settled in Camden Maine, and went to work in a textile mill as a foreman. Dad worked in this factory for about thirty years before I was born, and in this time he and mom, with six of the family lived in a home about a mile from the place he worked. He and mum just before i was born moved to sand street.

We children slept up stairs when at home and mum and dad slept down stairs. For lighting we had kerosene to fill up an overhead lamp, to be lit when wanted, which was lowered to light and put out. There was no such thing as central heating, so again in the kitchen there was a large black cooking range. It had four round covers, a hot water tank and a chimney that went out the roof. The covers could be removed for lighting the kerosene burner for cooking, keeping the water tank hot, and to heat the whole house in the winter. This was sometimes very difficult, for the snow was deep and it could get thirty degrees below zero, but at least it was warmer in than out, and no one ever complained. The very first thing I remember was when I was about three years old. I saw my mother's father, my granddad. He was a little man, who wore a vest over his shirt, and had a gold watch chain across the front. He smiled at me, lifted me up and gave me a hug and gently put me down again. As he stooped over, I could see his bowler hat nearly fall off his white haired head. From this day forth I remember little things about my early childhood days.

Brothers, Vincent, John and Ralph and sisters Stella, Freda and Thelma were all born in a large house with an upstairs attic, in a large field surrounded by a hedge of trees and bushes. Mount Betty was above a road on the topside, and a large river and the mill dad worked in at the bottom of the garden. A neighbour brought all the children into the world as no doctor was handy, in fact we could not afford one anyway. But this again was the way ninety percent of children were born in those days. I was not born in the field house, but seven of my brothers, and sisters were. I was the first of my family to be given life in our home at Sand Street. There was about two years span between each child in the family. I was told when I was very young that the reason why the Nelsons left the field house was because the place had been haunted. At night figures could be seen walking through shut doors, and mum always said they were people who lived there before dad took over the old house. I believe not one of my brothers or sisters wanted to live in this haunted place, but they all believed in ghosts.

The house in Sand Street was a bit like the abode the first six were born in, the difference being a sand bank was situated just above with a large round water well between dads vegetable garden where we grew our food. A very large wooden lean too was attached to the house and a toilet was adjoined. To erect a toilet in those days, one had to dig a hole four or five foot deep and about two-foot wide, erecting four sides and having a wooden board like a chair with a hole in it for sitting on, and news paper used for toilet rolls.

I did not use the toilet until I was about four years old, as a pot was used, it could be very dangerous for a youngster to sit on the seat, as I found to my misfortune when I first tried it, for I did actually fall in. Had it not have been for my arms held straight out, I would not be here today. Of course my dear old mum had to send everyone up to the well with buckets to fetch the water to throw over me. To be honest I nearly got drowned and the smell lingered for hours. We occasionally had a skunk that would fall into the outside loo, but somehow he always got out, God knows how, but he left all his smells behind.

I remember the man who lived next door, who once a year filled his wheelbarrow with the mess from the toilet hole and used it for fertilizer on his field adjoining ours. On this occasion you had to leave home for the day and keep breathing through your mouth for the next three or four days. But I must admit looking back; he had some of the best vegetables in town. I suppose it was because of the fertilizer he used. The vegetable gardens were fairly large; it had to be because of the many mouths to feed. It was difficult to prepare for sowing, as my dad worked six days a week from seven in the morning to about dusk, so a lot of it was left to older brothers to do.

There were very few horses in those days, so going back to nature one of my brothers held the plow and the other pulled it. I used to watch with fascination, until I also joined in, but only in a small way. They all used to laugh at the way I tried to hold the plow up and giggled as I got a small stick and smacked their bum. Even at four I鈥檇 still carry a small pail from the spring to quench my brothers thirst. Every one in the family had some type of chore to do, and every one helped each other. This was what all families did in my youth, every one pulled together.

The winters and the changing of the seasons were very difficult because of the intense temperatures. November up to March it was not unknown to go thirty-five below zero, from March it started to get a little warmer and by April (Easter), most of the ice had melted from the lakes etc, and there was a feeling of spring. Then summer arrived and of course school holidays. This was when my family did not have quite so many bills to pay because we put our shoes away, went barefoot and for washing and bathing, we went to a place called Shirt Tail Point, where we could swim all day.

Just before the age of five I had my first school lesson. I wandered away from my home and somehow found my way to the old school house, opened the door to emerge inside. I must have looked very scruffy because we did not have the finances to dress up in those days. But Mrs Gould the teacher, took me by the hand, led me to where my sister Thelma sat and I sat beside her and the whole class looked on in amazement, here and there the odd giggle was heard.

Mum kept her eye on me for quite a while after this episode, but shortly after this I actually went to a new school building and had the same teacher in Kindergarten," Mrs Gould". I remember my first day officially at school that seemed strange at first and I felt quite shy. All the rest of my class seemed to be more at home but I at least had my own little chair, and it was not very long before I was chatting to a school chum. This certainly was not the same as the first time I had gone to school for it was a larger schoolhouse with more children, and of course my sister, Thelma was two classes in front of me.

School was not too bad, but after a spell, I felt as if I was ignored a lot, not by Mrs Gould, but by my classmates. I felt out of place, probably because I never had what they had, new clothing etc. But I tried to learn as much as possible, and tried my hardest not to let my feeling's show, but today I can honestly say, I had no time for some of my school mates at least the many who made my childhood so unpleasant, but a large part of them were wonderful.

The years seem to fly, from my first day at school, and before I knew it; I became seven years old, and had been in school for two years. By this time I became hardened to being teased, and many a time showed my feelings with fisticuffs. We used to pack a few sandwiches from the bread mum baked, and were lucky enough to have a small bottle of milk at school. But this soon stopped, for there weren鈥檛 any cows outside in winter, and the milk dried up, so we were left with just the bread. I remember the hardships we went through and God knows how we survived is anyone's guess.

A good meal after getting home from school was really looked forward to, even if it was beans on a lot of toast, but there was plenty of home cooked bread. There may not have been a large amount of food, but we never starved. I remember just before the path across the tombstones of the cemetery there used to be a field. It was not unknown for me to trip and fall into the small stream of water running down from the cemetery, and pulling myself out, try to dry myself off by running for a mile or two.

I would never say a word to criticize my dad or mum for they did their utmost to clothe and feed their offspring, and even went without to do so, but my mum and dad did not believe in charity. If one had to go to the town clerk for help you would only get a chit to take to a shop to buy shoes, clothing or food. But at the end of the year a book was sent out to the entire town people telling how much was given to each family, this my dad could not nor would not accept, for it would look like he was accepting charity. So we just survived and the longer it went on the more we loved our parents, and something always turned up to help us...

Then at about eight I moved but not before I had fallen a few times into an open grave while coming home from school in the dark. When this happened I would crawl out of it and run like hell, and I always had a feeling something was trying to catch me.

My dad had built a new house about eight miles from Camden, out in the country from timber he bought cheap from the place he worked and with my brothers help had erected it on a good size piece of land that I believe was quite cheap. So the great day came and we packed up our meagre belongings and moved. We were lucky enough to have an old banger (car) that was given to dad for nothing and we called the place we moved to Nelsonville. This was beautiful and to describe it is difficult but I'll try. It was beside a fairly good tarmac road on a slight hill. At the back were fur trees and again a large vegetable plot. Looking out of the porched kitchen door you could see a river on the other side of the road and in the distance Mount Megundicook rose majestically above the horizon. In the distance one could see a huge white cross on the side amongst the green trees. This had been erected in the early eighteenth century on the spot where a young woman had fallen to her death.

There was also about another four houses in the vicinity. It had its drawbacks however, for we still had to walk about a quarter of a mile to fetch our spring water, two pails at a time. In fact the family and I never ever drank water from the tap it was always spring water. There were no streetlights so it got pitch dark and the weather was even colder in the winter. The walk to town was quite a distance and walking back and fourth to school was a nightmare, especially in the winter, for the snow was deep on the road, it was dark as hell and it was windy. This was probably the worse time of my childhood, because of the lack of warm clothes to wear in the cold winter. I was not at all fond of school, although I learned my ABC's it was just being so poor, we did not have the things to wear for the cold and this always made me feel inferior, but I suppose a lot of my chums were in the same position. With me I always felt neglected and this made me into a loner. Maybe it was because I lived so far away outside town.

Many times I have sat down somewhere quiet and meditated about my family, and some of the wonderful episodes that have happened in my life. I think of my family tree and of all my brothers and sisters, and the sequence of their births. For the records Stella was the first, Vincent second Freda third, John Junior fourth, Ralph number five, then Thelma six, yours truly seventh, Annie eighth, Edwin ninth and last but not least Betty tenth; who died very young at the early age of about thirty eight. This was the family I loved dearly, the family that pulled together, and never knew what it was like to get the things of the present time, and there were plenty more like us in those days, for what you did not have, you could not spend. So you see, the most important thing in my day was love for one another.

The ten kids in the Nelson family all were born in a span of about twenty years so the oldest would be twenty when the last brother or sister was born and I was the seventh in line, and was called peanut by my dad. I suppose it was because I liked candy peanuts and I was small for my age. So this meant I had this nick name all my young life. We all grew up together, and loved each other dearly. Someone may ask the question, how did we keep clean. Well it was difficult, for in the winter when the temperature fell thirty-five degrees below zero and there was hardly any warmth, only a wood fire range, how could one stand and bathe鈥�. So a wash down as quickly as one could was the answer and hope to God you did not miss a dirty spot or catch pneumonia.

In the summer, however, we were always swimming and diving for white pebbles, which were supposed to be lucky. We sometimes were all day long bathing and having fun, at Shirt Tail Point, a place where you went swimming with nothing on. Dad and mum both went to town on Friday (payday), by his old car, to pick up the weeks shopping and sometimes me or my sisters went too, for there was now only four of us at home, the rest having got married. This was an occasion for we usually got a candy bar and climbing into the rumble seat of the car, we usually put the outside seat top down over our heads to keep warm.

As a small boy it was always my dream to get to the top of Mount Betty, but I was too young. This did not prevent me from looking up at the mountain and I knew that one day in the near future I would be looking down on my homestead, instead of up to see how much of the town of Camden would become visible. The very large cemetery above the house would be spread out, to show the beauty of the green trees just below the boundary of the giant grey boulders spread just before the mountain. Then at last I got my dream, for Ralph and I decided to go up the mountain. I was only about nine or ten at the time, and my brother was four years older. So off we went, through the graveyard, across the road to the side of Mount Betty. At this time I would guess we were the first to make a trail to the top of the mountain, but of course I could be wrong. Up and up we went, past the trees at the bottom, to approach the boulder-clad rocks on the boundary. Then, we made our way up between the rocks, going first to the left, then up, then right. Sometimes slipping, only to regain our balance. The view at half way was like a picture, and as we went higher and higher, the scenery was out of this world.

I often look back on these days, and know full well the old saying," children go where Angels fear to tread", is true in all ways, for we were two foolish young boys. At long last we reached an area of easy footage, where we were able to see Mount Betty's tower in the distance, and the climb was easier. We passed a small stream of water coming out of the side of the mountain, so we quenched our thirst and just beside the mountain well, we found wild blueberry's that were so taste, we ate enough for our dinner.

We started this journey at about nine in the morning, and we reached in sight of the tower at about one o-clock that afternoon. Although we were silly, it was worth every minute of the time spent on our mission, for in all my later life, I have seen only two or three places, as peaceful as what I viewed. To our left was the Atlantic Ocean with all the little islands visible, and following the coastline around, one could see the town of Camden, Rockport and the outlying districts. It was as if you could reach up to touch heaven, one cannot be able to tell or relate how I felt. We had achieved our mission, and even though others had been there before, to erect the mountain tower, we were the first to blaze a trail up the side of Mount Betty. At ten, this was just one of the many achievements in my life, I can look back on with pride. When at last we made our way down we found it was a lot easier than climbing, so we went back past the boulders, and trees to make our way home and to be greeted by our mum who had not realised we had gone up the mountain I'm sure if she had known; we would have had our bums smacked.

Dad worked in the Seabright textile mill from early morning, till about five o-clock every day, six days a week, with no paid holidays, and got a check every Friday. For his week's work, every penny went to support us children and mum. It used to be something to look forward to when we children to meet him coming home from work, to see if he had any thing left in his dinner pail. At about ten years old I began to realize that maybe I could donate a bit towards the family income, so I went down behind the old textile mill, where a giant lilly pond lay in a cove on the Camden River and waded out. I then proceeded to collect as many lilly's as possible and believe me I had a few and when I held one to my nose, the aroma was out of this world.

Then I went knocking on the doors of the big homes and to my surprise and delight I sold completely out. The price I charged was three for five cents. Returning home, I went in the room where my mother was bottling green beans to put into the cellar for the long winter. This was where my mum put every thing bottled. A large room below the kitchen where the provisions she canned were put. When I put two dollars on the table she could hardly believe it and as she stepped back I saw a few tears in her eyes. Today I can understand her reaction, but being young at the time I never thought how this had affected her. It made me a very happy young boy and after this bit of fortune I was down behind the mill nearly each day. The flowers stopped flowering, for the weather became a little bit cooler, but it made a small boy very happy. To be able to give my mum and dad a little bit of extra money I felt somehow that I had helped a little toward the house keeping. Then I was collecting bottles to take back to the shop, then brass, lead and old metal, to sell to the scrap yard where a Jewish man worked. Every penny I put on the kitchen table, made me feel like a saint, and made me go searching for more scrap. The winter of 1935 was one of the coldest I had ever seen and the snow so deep one had to climb out the top window of the home to shovel it away from the front door. We made skis out of barrel staves (board) to get around. This was also the year I got chased up a tree by a bear, why he was not hibernating I do not know, but it certainly was an animal awaken from sleep and hungry. The winter came and went and this time on my school holiday I thought I would find another way to make money.

I knew that there were small cabins around the great lake where the owners came up once a year for their holiday and I also knew they wanted bait for their angling. I put a large board out on the road nailed it to a post and put frogs for sale on it in large letters. I then started to catch one-inch long green frogs and brown frogs. Believe me I was out sometimes all day catching and taking them home in a paper bag. To be put into a large round hole dug in the ground with something over the top. I then sat back and waited to see if I was to be successful.

Then at last everything started to get better, for a large car stopped outside our home, and a well-dressed man got out and approached me. "Are you the boy who sells frogs", he said, as he eyed me up and down. I had never seen such a man before, for I knew that he was a stranger, and had plenty of money. "Yes", I replied, how many do you require, and what colour. "Colour", he said. Do you have colours as well? I smiled at him, and he smiled back. "I have green ones and brown ones", I said. " But the green ones are dearer for there are not as many of them". "Well son", he said, and what are your prices". I snuffled my bare feet, looked him in the eyes, and said, "the green frogs are a dollar a dozen, and the brown fifty cents". "I tell you what boy, oh by the way you may call me Doctor Codman, and what may I call you?" "My name is William, but you may call me Buddy". "Buddy it is then, well I'll have two dozen green, and leave the brown ones for the next time". He again smiled, I went behind the house, got a paper bag, put a little straw in it, counted out twenty-four frogs from my hole in the ground, put them in the bag, and took them back to the buyer. "Thankyou son, I'll see you next week, and tell you if this bait, has caught any fish, from the lake?" Then he drove off, and with the two dollars, I got, I felt over the moon, for every little bit helped and I was eager to just be of some help, and it pleased me to feel like a rich man.

Dr Codman from Massachusetts came nearly every week, and all the rest of my customers kept me busy most weekends, and evening's catching these creatures, and selling them as bait for fishing. I will always remember Dr Codman as being so kind to my family and me, but as always, everything must have an end. He put five dollars into my hands at the end of his holiday, and said to me with a smile, "Get your hair cut". Then he left to go home, and I never saw him again, but will always remember his kindness.

One day I was standing on the corner of Washington Street, and feeling browned off. There was a film showing at the theatre, and as I had no money, I could not see it. I suppose I looked a bit bedraggled but some one tapped me on the shoulder. Turning around I saw a funny little man. Every thing about him was peculiar he had a long nose and hadn鈥檛 shaved for about a month (that is if he ever shaved). He looked me up and down, "Tell me my young man, are you doing any thing at the moment." "No sir " I replied, can I help you. He took two steps back and said, 鈥淲ell I have a bit of a problem." When the man stepped back to face me I had noticed his problem he only had one arm, then he spoke again. "You see son I have a very important job to do, and I need help to perform it, for it will take a strong young lad to help." He put a finger up to scratch his nose. "I am what people call, a traveller, my horse and myself plough for a living, but as one can see it takes two people. Would it be possible for you to do this?鈥�

He took my hand and led me around the corner. Their grazing stood a big grey horse. "Well sir I will give it a try" The both of us walked to the place to be ploughed, and I held the fairly large plough while he drove the horse up and down. The longer we worked the more I learned about this art. I became quite interested in this job. One week later the old man was on his travels again. I did get to see the film, "Gold Rush" staring Charley Chaplin, and also put a few dollars on the table to help towards our groceries.

Time came and went and the years seemed to fly past and before one knows it, early teens turned into late teens and I suppose owing to my early poverty, and the hard life our family went through, I grew up, or matured quicker than the well offs. But this I must say even today I often wonder whether there was something or someone looking over me. My brothers and I and my sisters owe a lot to our parents for they gave up everything to raise our brood, going without themselves, just to feed and cloth us and we learned the hard way, but the most important lesson was love hath no enemy. Things were getting better for a while, but there was the odd time one asked at the local bread shop, if they had any stale cakes, and to this day I believe they felt sorry for us, as there was always something.

There were not always bad times, for we also had good times, sometimes one forgets, like the day I learned how to swim. My brothers took me out in a rowing boat on the river that ran just in front of our home. "So you want to swim like us, Buddy" he said, "Well this is the way to learn." He and my other brother grabbed me by the legs and arms to throw me into the water. Good job we were in a cove in the river, and not in the rushing part of the river. Any way I learned how easy it was to swim even though it was what they called a dog paddle. Then there was Shirt Tail point, where we went swimming, without clothes. We were always in the water in the summer, for this was bath season, so you took full advantage of it, and Shirt Tail not only took boys, but some time girls as well. Sex meant nothing to us in my days; a good meal was considered better, any way in those days most of us believed we were born under a cabbage patch.

Although we lived five miles from town, and not near the sea, the scenery was even prettier then near the seaside, and there became more wild creatures roaming the countryside. It had its drawbacks though, for my mom asked me to walk my two sisters to school. I did as my mum ordered until I learned that a school bus stopped just a half a mile up the road, but unfortunately it never always turned up, so we four had that extra half mile to walk. Then another day arrived, and it was a day where every thing went wrong. First the pail I carried to the spring had a leek, and to make matters worse, as I was strolling down the dirt path, a very large pig came running toward me. The owner had shot the animal, but did not kill it, so up the path he came running and grunting at me. I dropped the pails and leapt to one side, the pig racing past and me ending up sprawled in a black berry bush. This I could stand but the owner of the unlucky pig came running along behind, and when he passed me chasing the pig, I'm afraid I said a few words I should not have uttered, which did not quieten the owner, but made me feel a lot better. I then picked up the pails, took the one that had the leak, rammed a pointed stick in the hole of the leaking one, filled them up and went home. The family to this day still has a giggle, over my misadventure.

As I get older I often look back on my childhood days and wonder how children and family's like ours survived. We had the ability to understand the difference between right and wrong, and had good parents, which meant everything, but my whole life was about to change. Personally I would say not for the good, but the worse. I will always believe that fate had a lot to do with it for it was the road I travelled.

Time rolls on and before one realizes it school ends, and because of two men, one from Germany and another from Japan, I got my calling up papers, two days after my birthday. I was officially conscripted, at the tender age of nineteen and just out of school. Only a young man at heart, I was soon to learn it was to be the second phase of my life. My papers told me I was to report to a medical department on a certain date. When the day arrived I went by train to Portland Maine where I met a panel of doctors, had my medical and passed with flying colours. Remembering one of the people on the panel asking me, did I want to join the forces, and, replied my trigger finger was itching (foolish man).

I realize now even at my age mistakes can be made and I was young and foolish. I was to report to camp Devon, Mass. on the day after my birthday. There were a few tears from my mum and sisters, and for the first time in my life I left home, to travel alone without any of my friends. The train journey was very dull, but I had lots on my mind, and although it was a new span in my life, would I be happy with my future? I was quickly given shoes, trousers, and kitted out with all the essentials a soldier has to have, even down to the ammunition belt, canteen, rifle and bayonet. Then before I could blink, I was put on another train to Little Rock Arkansaw where I then commenced my basic training for six weeks.

Chapter Two: Basic Training and Manoeuvres.

It did not start off too well for I was not used to accepting orders, and told the Corporal in charge to 'f' off, and he put me on charge. I was made to walk from five o-clock in the afternoon, till ten o-clock that evening with a full field pack on, until eventually the Sergeant accepted me saying, "I apologize because was I tired鈥�.

Then after three weeks I came down with pneumonia, so I had to wait not six weeks, but nine weeks before I could pass out and join my outfit. Meaning of course the first lot I did my training with had already left. I had to leave my basic training with the second group. Just before I finished my basics, in fact a week before, we went on a parade, marching down a very long street, and through the town. This was a very wonderful occasion for me. I felt so proud that I had been taught so many things about army life such as how to take an M1 rifle apart in the dark, and reassemble it, the firing range, hand grenades etc, but the most important was hand combat and survival. The survival bit did not mean too much, for I had learned this when very young, but it brought back memories of my childhood, and maybe this was a good thing.

It's surprising what one remembers in ones life, and the unexpected things that can happen, cannot be proven, but did happen in training. I still say and always will, President Franklin Roosevelt was the best president we ever had, and I remember writing a letter to him when I was at school, and believe it or not, I got an answer. But unfortunately, it has been lost, maybe some day to turn up. Fate has a way to recover in ones life, and after the march in Little Rock Arkansaw, we all were told to fall out and as a group of us men were lounging about. Three men approached us, and to my delight, a man shook my hand, and wished me all the best, and even to this day it was hard to believe that this man was our commander in chief himself, the President in person. The following week I was released from basic training, then boarded another train with my mates, and went to Camp Forest Tennessee, to join the Company A 315th infantry regiment, as a fully trained combat infantryman.

We were innoculated and it seemed strange to me, for at this camp I saw young men of eighteen to twenty faint at the sight of a needle, and to cry because of loneliness, but it happened, why I never could understand. I got on very well with my officers, and sergeant. I suppose it was because I was used to being ordered about, and I took it for granted. Inspection, marching and the rifle range was our sole purpose at this camp, and when this was not happening, guard duty, kitchen police, roll call and unarmed combat.

At long last, we were sent on manoeuvres, this time we were sent to Yuma Arizona, just beside Death Valley, for war games. I stress war games, but it was a lot tougher than playing. The whole company were put up in a row of tents, ten soldiers to an abode, everything was so different from what we had left, and it took a bit of getting used to. Temperatures were one hundred and twenty degrees Fahrenheit outside, sand and cacti everywhere, and outside in the courtyard, there stood on tripods a large canvas bag, filled with water, that funny as it seems was quite cool when you drank it. We were also issued with salt petre pills for dehydration to take with the water. There were no snakes or such perils in the other camps I had been in, but here was different. It was not unknown for a sidewinder (small rattlesnake) to be found inside the tent, so carefulness was in order. Because not only was there rattle snakes, but gila monsters (poisonous lizards) and tarantulas, and above all every man had to empty his shoes each morning, for Centipedes loved to hide in them. They would not kill a soldier with their sting, but made a person very sick and sore.

One thing I must stress, although the living conditions were bad, the scenery was out of this world, for not only was it weird but at night when the moon rose, it was as if one could reach up and touch it. I was lucky enough to be there when it only rains about two times a year; then every cactus for miles around was in flower. This was called the Painted Desert. This lasted for about one hour then as the rain clouds passed, the sun came out, and all was back to where it began. Before and during our training in the desert, we had a bit of time off, so I went to certain places.

I swam in parts of the Colorado River, visited Mexico, and slept in the upstairs part of a Roller Skating Rink, where I was awake for most of the night. All of the company went to a concert one night to see Bob Hope. This may sound like a holiday to some, but try walking twenty miles, with a full field pack on your back, carrying a rifle, and in heat at least one hundred and twenty five degrees Ferrenheit. Then for good measure almost falling over a diamond back rattlesnake that turned up from God knows where, and when he coiled up, to raise his huge head, followed by a loud rattle, I just let well enough alone and went on my way, very quickly I must say on this event I could have been bitten and who knows, died.

This episode on manoeuvres was an endurance test, a test to find out how much you could take. For the first ten miles, it seemed not too bad, we had breaks of ten minutes each hour, but then it became a strain on each muscle of the body. As the time went on, mile after mile, you'd find first one, then another soldier falling out, because of heat exhaustion and tiredness. I remember quite well trampling along and for just a laugh, singing, 鈥榞ive my boots and saddle鈥�, and they joined in the song, all down the line. We reached the half way mark, turned around on the return march, and trundled back the way we had come. The return was equally as bad as the outward journey, the only difference was all the men, who had fallen out, had been picked up, and taken back to our base camp. Leaving us to think well maybe we were the dopes in not doing the same.

The second day after my hearty stroll, for my courage, I was made Private First Class, and made number one scout, so maybe in a way I was paid in other ways for my ordeal. I remember also that the only thing we carried for medical reasons was a razor blade. This was because of rattlesnakes, for if one bit you, the remedy was to cut a cross across the bite, to let it bleed. I'm glad to say I was lucky enough not to have used one, only for shaving.

I must admit though, there were times when I could have been a victim of snakes, when I dug my foxhole for the night, it was not for a good kip, because if I became wanted during the night for orders, I had to get out of my place of concealment, very carefully I must say for when this happened, I would almost always hear the ominous rattle of a snake, and in the dark, no one could tell where it was coming from.

On one such occasion I tripped over a small obstacle, landed face down in the sand, and to my utter surprise stared at a land turtle, yes a turtle in Death Valley, and even to this day, I cannot understand how it could have survived in the heat. We were on manoeuvres for two or three months, because I was in my late nineteen's when they finished, but we were put through our paces, and saw some wonderful things, and in between visited different places by lorry's. At long last the manoeuvres ended and the whole regiment packed up, and we left Yuma Arizona. First we went by foot, then army lorries to the railway station, to board the train and arrive two days later in Salina, Kansas. Then because of the manoeuvres we were allowed another break because of the stress all the men had gone through. There was also a chance we shortly would be going over sea, and for our just reward, we were allowed leave, to return home, to meet the family for two weeks. There is not much to tell about my short reprieve home, only if my dad had not taken out a loan for me to pay my train fair, I would not have been able to make the trip. As usual mum and dad, and the family were just lovely, and as for the other folks, barring a few close friends, I kept mostly to myself, and had a lovely rest.

When the time came to leave, I stopped in Portland, Maine overnight, breaking my train journey, to stop with my sister Freda, and remember getting up in the morning, kissing my sis, and walking to the station. About half a mile from the train, a down and out tramp asked me for ten cents for a cup of tea, and believe it or not that was just the amount I had in my pant pocket so, reluctantly I handed him my last penny. I've always found in my life it鈥檚 the poor that give to the poor not the rich.

I reached my twentieth birthday before I returned to the camp and mingled again with my soldier friends. Back to the roll calls, ravioli, lights out and inspections, and the occasional rifle range practice. It was here that I saved a young lad from drowning in a river. I heard a cry for help one day, rushed to the riverbank and just saw this young lad go under the water. Without a thought for my own safety, I jumped in fully clothed, and was able to grab him with my hands and bring him ashore. I met his parents, and they were really nice people. They wept with gratitude for my bravery, and as for their son, they gave him a kiss, and to my surprise, smacked his bum and sent him to bed, telling him how many times they had told him to stay away from the river.

When I got back to camp, orders came officially we were bound for overseas in the very near future. A month later, I was lucky enough to have another unexpected but well-earned holiday. Maybe for the last time, for at last we had finished our training and were going to war. So I left Kansas to go home again for two weeks, not having any money, I asked my dad if he'd lend me the fare, and he gladly did. So off I went by train to Camden and realised that this could be the last time I saw my family for a long time, and I was a bit depressed, but tried not to show it. I was welcomed with open arms, and a few tears. I was home again, and I enjoyed all the atmosphere of a relationship with my family again. John, my brother was still away in the army. Ralph of course had married before I went into the services, but had a couple of kids, while my mom and dad were still not financially well off, and still working hard, trying to bring up my other two sisters and brother. Looking back on my life, we were taught to believe, that maybe one day, we also would be as well off as everybody who had money, but as I got older, I realised that money, brings money, and so we never succeeded to reach the top.

This may come as a shock to some people, but I can honestly say this. Although I was in the forces, and at war with Japan and Germany, I still did not know who Hitler was. I could not even tell a person what he looked like and as for the Emperor of Japan I was told he was classed as an animal. This was because he and his people acted like one. Unfortunately there were no such things as Television in my youth and as for a paper, well we could not afford to buy one. This left only the battery radio and most of the time we could not get a spare battery. This is the reason why we never knew either one of these cruel men and how bad they were. I thought that our war was with Japan, who had bombed Pearl Harbour. This I must say was the best of all holidays and I was able to climb Mount Betty again, to see all the beautiful scenery I had missed so much.

The thing I will remember about this leave was when my youngest sister took me in her arms and crying said, "Take care of yourself brother, we love you very much鈥�. She took her arms from around my waist and proceeded to say 鈥淕od willing we will see each other again?" Little did I know this would be the last word鈥檚 she spoke to me, for shortly after this she died whilst I was fighting, at a very young age, she was only thirty-eight, leaving a daughter.

Holidays do come to an end, but this particular holiday also had its sorrows. I never realized the anguish and tears it could bring to my dad for as a rule he was a man who could bottle up his feelings, but as the leave was coming to an end, we were having a long walk along Mountain Street. We stopped to gaze at the Tombstones in the cemetery, and he put his arm on my shoulder and said "Peanut (My nickname as a boy), the world is a sick place to live in today, so please take extra care of yourself and may the good Lord look after you and bring you back to us." I believe this was the only time I had ever heard my father talk with such feelings and it brought tears to my eyes. I had to look the other way and I think he knew how I felt, so he took my hand and we carried on walking.

One thing I had to do before I returned to my unit in Kansas was to revisit the school I had spent so much time in. Why I wanted to do this I鈥檒l never know, but another reason comes to mind, we were too busy trying to grow up. We had no time to listen to the battery radio tucked away in the cupboard, and as there was no Telly in those days information was hard to come by and then again maybe I wanted to see as much as I could. To me this could have been the last time I was thrilled when I received my first letter from the Government telling me that I was to report to a center for a medical and if I passed I would be in the American Forces. I often wonder why I had wanted to visit my old school building. Then I realized, maybe it brought back memories of the poem I had learned in my youth, "in Flanders field the poppies grow, between the crosses row on row, and in the sky the lark still bravely fly amidst the guns below." This poem I鈥檒l always remember and who knows maybe I would see Flanders.

As I got ready to return to my regiment, all my family shed tears. Late afternoon I arrived back to my unit and was met with nothing but doom and gloom. All around the campus there was a feeling of bad fortune, this changed when the order for embarkation came and each one of us was ready and eager to get on with it. Even as we got ready to travel I鈥檒l bet not one among us realized that one day soon we鈥檇 be at the stage of killing someone, or be slain ourselves.

Chapter Three: England and the Journey to Omaha.

In the beginning of May 1944 all the regiment got on lorries and drove to a train station. A few hours later after the boring train ride we arrived at the docks of New York. Standing to attention along the platform, squad after squad were ushered onto the great liner docked in the harbour and one could faintly make out the name, "Queen Elizabeth". The top brass travelled on the first class deck and as one went down the ranks, he found his hammock well below the water line. Hundreds and hundreds of men made the crossing and wherever a soldier looked he saw nothing but hammocks, toilets and a mess hall where we lined up to eat our meals. All the top brass and some of the un-commissioned officers had their meals in the first class part of the liner. It was very rare for any of the higher rank to mix with the privates, so they were rarely seen only heard. Half a day out from New York docks nearly everybody was seasick. I can remember this very well, for although I had never been sea sick before, I got the after effects from a man standing just beside me who had literally drowned me in puke (vomit) which this was bad enough but I did not have another set of clothes.

The Sergeant in charge at last rummaged around and finally produced a pair of trousers and a shirt, and I threw the sick stained clothes overboard. To me it was not funny, but just before I donned my new outfit, I had buckets full of water thrown over me, taken from the ice cold sea and even I had to grin as they all yelled in delight. I was put with my chums on the lower deck, where countless hammocks were hung, in fact there were so many of us, you kept bumping into each other. The officers of course were probably put in first class, as this was the way of life, as we were only privates. In fact some of my buddies never left their hammocks all the trip over, and instead of white they were green, the smell of sickness was always there, the whole journey over.

At long last the boat trip was over. All the crap games had ended the night before, and everyone was interested in meeting the English. It took the liner about three days to reach its destination in England and many a man never got out of his hammock. This dam sea trip made every one on board wish he could have walked here instead of coming by boat

We finally arrived at the docks and to tell the truth, I did not know what port of call it was, but it was on the west coast of Great Britain. The lorries were waiting for us outside the docks and there seemed to be dozens of them. They were soon filled up by the American troops who were that damn tired I鈥檓 sure not a soldier took much interest of where the transport was going. It was not too long a ride before we reached our billet that turned out to be a long row of canvas tents and as we came near the camp we saw a sign, "Wilmslow" to hear later it was near Macclesfield and this was to be our stay for an unlimited time. There was not one among us who thought our place to stay would be a glorified canvas row of tents, but at least you could not get seasick.

The same routine of roll call, inspections and sentry duty occurred, but to break the monotony, we did meet some of the English residents, and barring a few they turned out very friendly, but again I must admit, the accent was very broad. We were accepted, as short stay residents, and even had the unexpected pleasure of marching in a parade in Manchester, just to get acquainted with this part of Britain, and get to know the English better. Two or three days later we were getting used to our living quarters, but it was still very difficult to move around, for the toilets situated out side the tents were nothing but deep holes dug in the ground with canvas tops and sides. This place certainly was not a four star hotel but not knowing when the action would start made every one on edge. It was the lack of nothing to do that made every one depressed even mingling with the local residents did not help for I can recall some of the remarks said. I personally do not think they were called for. We had enough on our plate without hearing "Over sexed, over paid and over here鈥� and to rub it in 鈥淕o home Yanks". Most of my buddies turned a deaf ear to these remarks but I often thought to myself "Thank you" would have been a better phrase.

There were quite a few GI鈥檚 in this tent compound who were very fond of the English beer and even going out to the nearest pub to let their hair down was an adventure. These type of buildings were not seen in the States, only saloon bars and as there seemed so many of them the soldiers used to visit them to pass the time away. Many a fight broke out in camp because of the drinking. It got so bad that the officer in command issued a warning, "Any one reported in a fight of any sort would be court marshalled and this order made every one wary of getting drunk, but there was the one here and there that could not resist the temptation.

Our site was full of canvas-tents which made it very hard to move around in due to the fact that the tents held four men and had only enough room to comfortably hold three. The men in this camp never had too much time to moan for soon on the grape vine came the news about moving out. "Thank God for that鈥� we all muttered not knowing, but sooner than later half the men would be just living memories. I find it hard to say this, but it could have been me as well. In the early hours of the morning, just as the large golden sun was appearing over the horizon, the soldiers of the 315th Infantry Battalion formed in a group to board a large convoy of lorries. The destination was not revealed to us until later on. We were driven all day in a cramped position as space was limited, but we stopped occasionally to relieve ourselves and have the odd 鈥楥鈥� or 鈥楰鈥� ration for our meal. I had never in my young life found it possible to travel such a long journey and found nothing to converse about, but I think everybody on these lorries were meditating on what lay ahead.

Our vehicles were canvas topped, therefore only the few sitting at the back could see anything and only when we went through a village and saw the country folk did we realize what the people looked like living here. The weather became misty and vision at times became very poor, but when the heavy rain came out of the sky it left large pools of water on the road that made driving conditions quite dangerous. This made the convoy slow up a bit but then the sun came out and the driver made up for lost time. We still had not been told of where we were heading, that is not verbally and I believe everyone had the feeling that the time of action was near.

It became dusk, as we travelled through a small town and having been born near a sea I knew we were approaching the Ocean because I could smell the freshness of it. The long line of lorries came to a halt and we then disembarked to see the mighty expanse of the Atlantic Ocean in the distance. All the troops got out of their transport to form into platoons and were waiting to be told what we were to do. Then a loud voice from a speaker nearby spoke. "Now listen to what I say and I will only say this once. The landing crafts are not quite ready to transport you to the ship, so in the meantime do not wander away from the company you belong to". He hesitated a short time and resumed speaking, "please be prepared at a minutes notice to get into the boats and be taken to your ship, thank you and God go with you鈥�. Time seemed to drag on and looking overhead I could see hazy clouds floating over a yellow-coated moon. This was a sure sign that the weather was changing for the worse. I strolled down to stand beside the Ocean and gazed out at the many ships moored in the bay.

Even though it was becoming twilight I made out the huge nets strung along the entire length of the crafts and thought to myself, "surely they do not expect everyone to climb this obstacle", of course I was wrong, and they did. The Chaplain was a busy man at this time, he was consoling two men who were crying and they were clutching him as if somehow he could save them. This incident made me feel very uneasy, but before I could think any more the order came to board all LST's. There were about fifty men to each landing craft and as they were loaded they were pushed from the beach and slowly made their way to the ships. The men then climbed the netting, climbed into the vessel and the LST's were hoisted up to lay along the side of the ship. Every man had to know where the craft was located so when we reached the other side of the Channel he would get in the same boat. At long last everyone had got on board, but space wise there was not a lot of legroom and everywhere one looked there was a soldier either standing or sitting in a cramped position.

Our thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice that came over the intercom and it was no surprise that all noises ceased, for everyone aboard this ship was eager to hear our orders of the day. "All the Army personnel on this ship have worked very hard to perform the duty you are about to undertake", the voice ceased for a moment then began again. "What I am about to say is of the utmost importance. I cannot with hand on heart say you are going on a picnic, but I, with the Padre's blessing, wish everyone of you good luck and a safe landing". The voice became quite stern. "From this time forth there will be no loud noises and especially no naked lights, when our craft pulls up anchor. If anyone is reported going against my orders then he will be put on a charge and be harshly punished", a pause, then he resumed. "This is all I have to say, but once again, I wish you good luck and God go with you all". These were soundly spoken words, but I think everyone knew where we were heading, so it came as no surprise at the outcome of this message. I gave a slight smile to myself when the word 'charge' was brought into the speech, for I thought to myself, you have to be alive to be punished.

At about twelve o'clock that evening we weighed anchor and went ever so slowly away from our berth. The huge ship hardly made a sound as we moved away from land and into the broad darkened Channel. Above us the sky was overcast, but occasionally I could see the odd star shining through the breaks in the mist. The whole ship seemed to reflect an omen of disaster, for everyone on this craft had no doubt that terrible trouble lay ahead.

I would not want the reader of this story to think that I was not affected by all that was happening around me, and this night I did something I had never done before. I prayed and I really believe my prayers were answered; otherwise I wouldn't be here today. A few of my friends were talking very quietly close beside me and across from me stood a solitary man, staring into space. There was no glimmer of laughter in his eyes but one of fear. I recall walking over and laying my arm across his shoulder and saying, "Do you believe in God?" He turned to face me and replied, "Do you? I realised at this time it meant nothing to him but I carried on trying. "Just about now my friend, I hope to heaven there is and I hope that no matter what happens we all come through this ordeal and have a laugh about it later".

This I'm sure did not take the fear from his eyes, for as he turned to walk away from me I could see the tears forming in his eyes. Their seemed to be fear all over the ship, and here and there I could hear weeping and the occasional sound of someone talking to himself. This does not say I was happy, far from it. I was also scared and asked myself many times, "Why am I here?" but there was no proper answer to this question and I was left with the old saying, 'Fear brings fear'. There was not a young boy soldier aboard this ship that could honestly say, "I'm not afraid", but in reality it is the unknown everyone fears and to find prayer, faith and love shuts all fear from ones mind, but luck was needed above all. On this particular boat trip luck certainly was against the majority of soldiers. All of us had plenty of time to reflect on our lives and thought of many a thing in the past.

My young friends and I had different views about this war but we all agreed that we were in the wrong war zone. The Japanese had killed many of our friends, not the Germans, so why were we fighting over here? Shouting somewhere in the background interrupted my thoughts. "Get me out of here" yelled a young private "I don鈥檛 want to die, please would someone help me." Then almost as soon as the yelling was heard the noise ceased. Somebody had grabbed the soldier and probably dragged him to a place where he could not be heard. This shouting seemed to upset the troops even more and I certainly could not describe how they felt, but some of my chums were looking quite pale.

Chapter 4: The Landing from Hell

In the early-hours on June Sixth 1944, the mighty engine of the ship ceased and it was as quiet as the grave and everyone on board stopped what they were doing and gazed at each other, knowing full well the time had come. I arose to my feet and peered over the railings of the ship and could just make out the French shoreline in the distance. Above our craft the sky looked very hazy and the stars instead of being dim were a dull red, but worst of all we were being tossed about like a cork in a bottle.

No word was uttered over the speakers but as our company sergeant arose we all got up to follow him. I in my haste to keep up with the group dropped my shoulder pack so it took me time to find it, as there were no lights. I then made my way to where the LST was and as it had already been lowered into the sea I slung myself over the side of the ship and holding the netting climbed down into the landing craft. I would definitely have been in the front of the small boat, but as I was the last one to climb down there was only just enough room to kneel down in the back.

The only noise I heard this night was the occasional rubbing of cloth against cloth and the heavy breathing of the soldiers as they found a place to sit and just in front of me, a skinny soldier was bending forward, and although he was only speaking softly, I heard him saying the Lords prayer. The night was very quiet, but then overhead we heard the sound of airplanes and from the sound of them, they could only be our bombers. It was not unknown for these large planes to soften up a target before the infantry appeared on the scene. The sounding of these bombers did not deter what we were doing and at that moment I think we were all hoping to God everything would turn out okay. All the LST's were in the water, all were along the side of the vessel, how many it would be impossible to say and not only ours for other ships around us were doing the same. All the time the weather seemed to be turning for the worse, now instead of sitting comfortably, we were being tossed from one position to the other.

A mile away from the coastline all the great ships had been moored, and as each of the landing crafts were loaded, they pushed away from the mother ship to travel very slowly shoreward. At long last the sandy beach was visible and every yard we made toward land seemed a bonus, so we all got to thinking, this would be a walk ashore exercise. The steering of the landing craft went straight toward land, then, when we got closer we turned to run parallel to the coastline. Three or four hundred yards off the beach and a mile later we veered a little closer to the hilly coastline. This was to get away from the stiff breeze blowing from inland and the sea became less choppy. The man steering the LST had to look very closely, for in these waters it was not unknown for a vessel to hit a half submerged rock. If this was to happen to us, God knows what the outcome would be. As I looked over the side of the boat I could just make out on the skyline, large black poles pointing at the sky and I remember at the time thinking, "good job they are not 88 guns".

Quite a few of the landing crafts were further out than ours and gradually swung around to go in, keeping well spaced from each other. We rounded a point of land and as we did so, saw the long sandy beach just to the right of us and again we thought, 鈥淎n easy landing was ours鈥�. We were wrong of course for what we or no one higher up realised, the Germans were having invasion exercises in the same area. On this landing we had drawn the short straw. The Germans were prepared and waiting for us and as the cold damp mist lifted from the shoreline we were sitting ducks. The enemy had seen everything we did and we realised what trouble we were in, but we also knew it was too late to do anything about it. Looking around me, everywhere was some type of craft. There must have been hundreds and this cheered us all up for it would be certain with this amount of armour we could not lose (but we damn near did).

As the first sign of machine gun fire was heard, I'll bet there was not a man in the boat who would have carried on, but where the hell were we to go, only forward. A landing craft for the readers information, was a fairly large flat-bottomed boat that could carry tanks, as well as fighting soldiers unlike an ordinary boat, its whole front was one big door, able to fall forward and down leaving a sort of ramp for the soldiers to walk out of, and if it carried tanks, to roll off of. No type of craft could take the place of this boat during the landing and without it we never would have made the beachhead.

The mist began to clear and one was able to see the brightness of the sun just clearing the edge of the horizon. This was where we had heard the machine guns. The Germans were shooting at the first wave of LST鈥檚 to try landing on the beach. They were shooting everything but the kitchen sink at us. Two boats to the right of ours were blown completely out of the water, leaving debris and parts of bodies floating on the sea. It would be impossible for me to describe the yells of pain and the death cries of the wounded and to make matters worse there was nothing we could do about it for we all were the intended target. The soldiers in the LST with me were extremely lucky, for if our boat had been in the first wave, all the men would have died. Every so often I could hear an explosion nearby and see pieces of metal fly in the air. Shells were still hitting the LST's everywhere along the ocean. Everyone in the boat was thinking, "When will it be our turn?"

The sky became quite light and we saw a haze of smoke as one of the crafts floated in flames on the sea. We were getting closer to the brownish white sands and we could make out the barbed wire and sea defences and pieces of something white was caught up in the wire. We were that close I also heard the hissing noise as the sea ran through the uprights holding the wire in place. We actually touched the wire, then, all hell broke loose. The gunners onshore had homed in on the boat I was in and all at once the front of the landing craft disappeared, breaking in half, and also detonating booby traps hanging from the wire killing nearly everybody at the front and leaving everyone still alive trying to save themselves from drowning. I do believe that someone that day was looking after me. If, I'd been sooner than later in boarding the LST, I would have been sitting at the front and would not be here to tell the tale. The boat as it broke in half flattened the barbwire, leaving me in the water up to my neck, but just able to reach the bottoms of the sands on tip toes. Without a doubt I must have swallowed a quart of water that day.

The dead were floating all around me and I had to push them away; as I and a few of my buddies made our way toward the sands. I had lost my rifle but at least I was alive. About a dozen of us in the LST I was in survived and finally made it to the end of the waterline to throw ourselves down among the many dead bodies which had been washed up by the wind swept sea. Just beside me and huddled in a ball was the young soldier I鈥檇 seen praying and he seemed to be crying like a baby boy. I lay amongst the dead. In fact I played dead for it did not take too much working out what the machine gunners were doing. As each craft came some where near the sands and as the front of their boats fell down, the gunners laying in their concealments on the shoreline machine gunned the crafts killing or wounding everyone on board. This had not happened to the LST I was on, for the artillery shell had found our boat and the soldiers in the sea were not very good targets. Looking along the beach we could see many landing crafts still unloading men and as they unloaded many of the young men died and there were corpses everywhere. The Germans were having a picnic for every LST missed by the artillery, had the machine gunners to reckon with. I think another thing that saved us from disaster was that so many crafts arrived on the beach before ours. So you could say we were the "lucky ones" for the boat I was on was probably three minutes behind and this very likely saved a few lives.

The last command we were to receive when we made the landing was, "Take no prisoners", but it began to look as if no one would be around to take any. How the hell could we take prisoners if we saw none? All day long, early morning till late afternoon, we were held on this beach and all day long we received many casualties. The most annoying thing about this landing came later, after the war. The planes we all heard during the night never did hit their targets. The bombs dropped were supposed to leave craters on Omaha Beach. If this had happened countless lives would have been saved. We would have had cover of a kind and God knows we needed it. My leg was paining me, aching like hell and I turned on my side and put my hand down to touch something very wet on my leg. Looking at my open hand I found it was covered in blood. At first I felt frightened, but glancing at my leg I saw the wound was only minor. Ripping a piece of grey cloth from the barbwire nearby I wrapped it tightly around the open wound. Then looking back along the coast, I realized now how lucky the group around me was for all one could hear was cries for help and yells of severe pain. God it was a nightmare. Bodies were floating in the sea as far as I could see.

On this day I would suppose one man in every twenty reached the beach alive, but at least these men stood a chance of survival. By this time I think everyone around me was feeling frustration. Everyone knew he could not help his chums, only listen to the voices that gradually faded away. I could only tell about my own journey from the water to my present place of safety and to describe it again, would be reliving a nightmare.

When the front of the LST fell apart, I lost all sense of direction and only knew I was in the water. Without really knowing what was happening I pushed a body away from me and remember holding my gun less arms above my head and yelling, at the shoreline "you god dammed son-of-bitches". Somehow my feet touched the bottom of the sands. Wading ashore I fell in a limp heap on the waters edge and to my surprise it was reddish in colour. On this day and at this time I put my hands over my ears to drown out the yelling and groaning of soldiers either dying or mortally wounded. I swear to God I never thought I鈥檇 ever see the day where I would be in this type of mess. To this day I wonder why it was me that survived, only God knows. I also knew that I could not stop in the place I was too long, for sooner rather then later I would become a dead man. Crawling away from the water and the blown up LST took some time and on the way I picked up a rifle that a dead soldier was clutching for being unarmed I would not survive. Then again I had no target to fire at for the enemy could not be seen. I suppose there were about a hand full of men alive, maybe more, but each man still living had a dead soldier laying before him for protection.

I don't expect there was a man amongst us, who thought we'd leave here alive, but I for one had not given up hope. The day slowly crept into afternoon and still there was no let up, only more bodies on the sands, it seemed like hours had passed, but we were gradually reaching our destination, a large wooden triangle that lay near the beginning of the waters edge. Then all at once we were out of sight of the enemy and were able to rest for the position we were in was safe and while I rested I was able to silently say a prayer.

There was one incident that pleased me, for as I rolled onto my side I found my best friend staring at me. "Are you okay, Buddy," he said. "Wait until we get to a place of safety, then ask me again." I replied. We were having quite a conversation, mostly about the situation we were in. Then a cry of someone in pain was heard and looking back the way we came there lay a man with his arm half off. Without thinking the two of us arose and ran back toward the wounded soldier, quickly picked him up and hurried back to the shelter we had occupied. We were able to stop the bleeding, put him in a comfortable position and hope to God the Medics would soon be on the scene. There were many a lesson I learnt in the forces but the one that was most important, was my understanding of the meaning of 'patience' and this stood me in good stead all my army term. In my training I never once refused to carry out an order but this did not mean that I agreed with every command I received, but never the less I did as I was ordered. Officers, Sergeants and even Corporals were there to be respected but I found the ones who were in charge were the very first to die during the landing at Omaha. The uncanny thing about this was they taught the whole company on the art of survival, yet they were the first casualties.

Because of this it left the majority of the survivors PFC (private first class) soldiers without a leader. I surpose nobody ever realised this would happen and we all took it for granted someone would be around to lead us. So everyone had to use there own initiative to stay alive. I cannot say with any uncertainty that all the higher ups perished in the landing, but I do know the captain and two sergeants never left the landing craft I was on, for they died with half the men on the boat. Every one of these brave men had perished when the 88 shells hit our craft they just seemed to vanish before my eyes and the sea turned a dull red as I finally reached the coastal sand. The beachhead fortress is very hard to describe for when a man is fighting to stay alive he has not the time to describe his surroundings. One thing is certain it was well built. There were grey cement structures all along the upper shoreline. Above these there were apertures built in the front for the machine gunners to look out of, a roof on the top and a long passageway at the rear. Every six or seven foot a door was seen for access to the beach. In front of this long battlement lay a long cement fence, three or four feet high. This is what we all saw as we lay out of sight.

All along the beach the triangular structures had more men hiding behind them, but for every soldier that was lying behind the triangle there were twenty that had perished and the God damn Jerry鈥檚 were still firing at there bodies laying on the sands. The Germans were real bastards for to kill someone and still fire at the body was not human. Just above my concealment there was a large mound of earth jutting out from the land, but concealed by a very large bush. Almost in front of the leafy clump, but just below it ran a long rock with a single fence running parallel to the shore line, this was presumably used as a defence for the metal doored bunkers. A very large group of men had segregated behind two wooden triangles, only a stone throw away from the enemy lines and believe me we were lucky to get this far forward, owing to the machine gun fire coming from the enemy. At this particular time I saw something that everybody had missed and I pointed it out to my buddies. Every time the breeze blew it parted some of the foliage of a large bush and behold one could see the shape of a man sitting behind a large machine gun. Although we could not see them we knew the crew were altogether.

Why they put this gunner here, we never could figure out for he was on his own with just the crew with him. We were fortunate in having a Captain with the men, so he was contacted and it was his decision as to what happened next. Maybe, just maybe if we took this gun out of action we could gain a foothold in the enemy lines and the risk was worth taking, for every minute we stayed on the sands the German's were killing our men. A soldier was chosen to try and contact every one of the men behind the wooden structures and the order was 'when we went forward everyone would do the same'. Three men lay on the sands with rifles aimed at the large bush. Another three just lay behind them with grenades in their hands and all six waited. All at once the bushes parted and rifle shots rang out. The gunner was seen to fall forward and over the embankment and while still in the air the hand grenades were slung over the bush to explode and as this happened we all leapt forward. Quite a few of my friends got killed, but I do not believe the Germans realised we were so close to them; and then what took place was what I dreaded.

The battle became hand-to-hand combat, the first one I had ever been in. I believe when we breached the enemy鈥檚 line, this opened up the chance for many of our soldiers to also breach the enemy鈥檚 stronghold, thus the battle for Omaha really began. The men including myself were so incensed about the killing of their friends they fought like demons and believe me the only prisoners taken were towards the end of the conflict. I cannot be expected to remember every detail of the battle that occurred that day because I was too busy trying to stay alive and I was close to death all the time. On this day however, I knew what it was like to stare a man in the face and kill him, and this stays with me for the rest of my life. I keep reminding myself that over two thousand young GI's were left on this beach, dead, so it was a small piece of consolation that I slew a few of the enemy.

The opening of the enemy lines stopped the mad insane slaughter of the waves of men coming ashore, this also gave the medics (God bless them) the chance to tend to the men still alive. To this day I cannot understand why we began to take prisoners, for there was not a man here who would forgive these murderous bastards. It was a top brass decision, so when we could we followed orders. Maybe it was because everyone had seen so much death or was fed up with the killing.

Nevertheless the more ground we captured the less reason we had to seek revenge. Forgiveness is in the Holy Book and in all my fighting days, I never asked for this, only to stay alive and protect me from all harm.

In later life I did ask forgiveness for all those I have slain even though it was kill or be killed. I recall the last man on D-Day whose life I took and like all the rest I had no other option. Around a bend in the large stone passageway, we came face to face and to this day I'll never know who would have died, for we both aimed and pulled our triggers. All I heard was a dull click, but not being shot and I knew at once that both rifles were empty, or had dud bullets in them. I knew he would be quicker than myself loading his rifle, as it took only one shell, so I did the only thing I could to beat him. I stood the rifle I was holding, bayonet upwards on the hard cold earth and pulled it from the barrel and threw it with all my might at him. I can remember even today the look on his face and the surprise as he dropped his firearm, as my knife went into his body up to the hilt. I had no time to feel guilty, for the fighting was going on all about me, but gradually seemed to be coming to an end.
The Germans were becoming fewer and fewer, retreating from the rear as we pushed them back. What surprised everyone was the lack of the Panzer division, for I think if they had been in the conflict we'd have lost even more men and maybe not have won this crucial battle. Looking back and to the right of me everywhere I looked was like an unburied cemetery, bodies everywhere I chose to look. The last three grenades were thrown and at long last the place was ours and as the remaining prisoners were lined up, most of us raised two fingers as we passed by them to slowly go inland.

Chapter Five: The Journey Inland

There was not one soldier among the company who did not look dirty, tired and stressed. Two full days we had gone without sleep, food or comfort of any kind and I think this is what brought the men through the hell we'd faced. From greenhorns to veteran soldiers in two days. Not bad considering we, or most of the men were in their teens. The whole company went about two miles inland and well away from the beach before we found a safe place to settle for the night. Sentries were posted for there was always the chance of a counter attack as so many Germans had fled the beach. A new captain had taken over command of the company and with his permission we all fell out to find a place of rest and as a few supplies of C rations turned up, we also had a small tin of meat as well. The trickle of blood started to ooze from my leg again, so without ado I redressed it and with the water from my canteen wiped the blood away from my skin and as I also felt sticky around my forehead reaching above, I slipped my helmet off. I鈥檓 sorry to say I said a few bad words.

My finger went into a jagged hole that brought blood streaming from my finger. Looking closely at my headgear, I could not understand when it had occured. With amazement I looked at the hole that went in one side and the large torn hole, where the missile came out. I never knew a thing about this, only that if what had hit my helmet had gone an inch lower I would not be alive to tell this tale. Having made myself a place to rest I leaned back against a very large tree and before anyone could say "Jack Robinson", I was in a deep sleep, but when I say a deep sleep I鈥檓 telling lies for all of my combat days (and nights) I can honestly say there was never a time that I slept peacefully. I always became dead tired, but there was always the restless sleep. If I told you I had a lovely kip, this meant I did not have a nightmare. Omaha and all the land around it for miles inland had one thing in common. Large and middle sized fields, with hedgerows running around them, about three or four foot high and separating one from the other. They also had a large old wooden gate that kept the animals from straying. This area of land also had many a German sniper in it that we found to our sorrow.

The Germans were very crafty and to slow the Americans up, they left a man here and there to kill without being seen, and many a man found to his sorrow, he had walked into an ambush. I do not know how long I slept that night but it's just as well someone nudged me awake, for I was having nightmares. As I opened my eyes I saw my friend Stubs, he was pointing to Sergeant Bowchamp in the background. He had been our cook in peacetime but now instead of cooking, he was fighting. I suppose it was unfair in a way he had not been on the route marches, or the endurance tests that we were put through, but was the master in the canteen. How he survived the beach landing I'll never know, but if I had been lucky, well why not he as well.

The sun had come up quite early that morning and while I had been sleeping, the sergeant had been looking around the vicinity for something to eat. He was looking here and there and at long last made a hasty grab at something with bright red feathers. The chicken never stood a chance, but how the dickens did he expect to cook it? He'd already figured this out and was busy lighting a small fire as I watched with fascination. As the fire got hotter, he had plucked the chicken and put it in his water filled helmet, which he placed on the fire. Gunfire sounded just to the left of me and I glanced that way, losing interest in what the Sergeant was doing, but almost instantly I looked his way again and as I did so another shot was heard. He raised the cooked bird in the air and shouting with glee, had ripped off one of it's half cooked legs and was just putting it into his mouth as another shot was heard. He fell onto the fire, spilling the water from his helmet and the look of amazement on his face was there for all to see. The German sniper who killed him was in the opposite field in a high tree and had been waiting patiently for the right target and poor Bowchamp became it. The sniper finally felt he would be undetected and chose the Sergeant for his target. He probably would鈥檝e got away with it, if birds had not flown from the tree. Thus making it obvious where the shot had come from. By the time he fell from the tree I'll bet he had about two pounds of copper in him. This made us all more aware and on the alert for snipers. There was no more sleep for anyone this day, so we all formed into groups, collected our rations for the day and was soon on the move.

Sometime later a farmhouse was seen in the distance and we were on the long winding dusty road that led past it. As we got closer the building looked very ancient and had a thatched roof that I'd never seen before. The ground was very wet as it had been raining heavily sometime before and this was where I saw my first dead civilian. The corpse of a women lay half in and half out of a huge puddle and as for her age I could only guess, for a tank had run across her head, and the smell of death was everywhere. Horses and cows lay bloated, with the dead women as well, the air made one sick to breathe. I was with the leading group of soldiers and had just passed the corpse when the officer in charge beckoned that he wanted me, so I left the soldiers I was with to slowly join him. "Nelson he said, as you are one of my scouts, I want two men and yourself to go into this old house, to search for any of the enemy and if one is found take him alive if possible鈥�. With his last words, two other men were selected and the three of us left the outfit to enter the old building. The front door had only one hinge holding it up; pulling it open we saw a long corridor with a stairway on its left.

Always having our guns at the ready another door was noticed. This door led to the cellar, under the building. Slowly, very slowly the three of us crept down the four steps. We three were amazed, for the whole room was lit up like daylight. Then I saw the generator working in the corner and knew where the supply of electricity was coming from. What did surprise us though was two men and a woman sitting at a table, all three as drunk as hell. The two men had Nazi uniforms on and were presumed to be of high rank. Tying the Germans hands together we led them up the steps of the cellar, but as we opened the door a shot rang out as a German was waiting for us to emerge. We were lucky for we were prepared and as he shot so did us all. His bullet hit one of the prisoners and ours hit its target. So two men died in this gun battle one a German in the room and the other up stairs. We left the woman sitting at the table as we guided our prisoner up the steps. PFC Alfred was lagging behind and as we got outside he showed us about three bottles of wine he鈥檇 picked up. It did not take us long before we returned to our company and handed over the prisoners and our report of events transpired.

Through one field then another, forever onwards or at least it seemed that way. The odd civilian was seen scurrying along the wet muddy road, sometimes smiling, but mostly waving their hands about, bowing to us as we went past and the occasional flower was thrown, but everybody had to be on the alert, for sometimes they threw rocks. To the left and right of my position I was able to see a long line of soldiers all walking forward. Each man was about two hundred yards apart, stopping occasionally to search for the enemy. It had been quite a normal day, which went to prove the enemy was somewhere in front of us. In front of me about a quarter of a mile ahead I saw a man run across a field. From a distance I could see he carried a large object, which I made out to be a gun. I then saw two other men follow and a short time later a volley of gunfire rang out. I ran across two fields and slowed down at the third, for this was where I had seen the men. At that time I was not able to tell if they were Germans or friends.

I stooped over, and following the hedgerow, crawled along its side, stopping only when I came to the large lopsided gate. Stopping for a moment just before the opening I pulled up my leggings to see what my leg looked like. It was bleeding quite a lot but a bandage stopped the flow of blood. I then peered into the next field and again I can thank my lucky stars, for if I had walked around and into the field I most certainly would have died. Lying, almost on top of each other, I saw two men and beside them a third man lie. They were the bar men (a large semi-automatic rifle on tripods) and these were the men I had seen in the distance. All three men were nearly facing me and one man鈥檚 helmet was literally torn from his head where the bullets had struck him. I can remember this so clearly as I knew these men very well. I could also see the gold watch the gunner wore, but this man鈥檚 name was not Dick or Harry. His real name was Ralph America. I slowly stood up beside a tree stump on top of the hedge to see a grass-topped pillbox. This was so concealed I understood why it was not located and what happened. I could not bring these men back to life, but still made sure no one was alive by calling out their names, but got no response. I had no way of telling anyone about this death trap, but had plenty of time to make sure everyone would see it.

The men were not allowed to use naked flames during nighttime fighting, but were allowed to use a cigarette lighter, only this had no flame, only a burning wick. I made a torch out of dead grass and blowing on the wick I was able to set it alight. I then threw the burning grass into the debris around the lethal pillbox. To my delight my plan worked perfectly, in fact too dam perfectly for the whole area in the field burned so quickly I had just enough time to backtrack out the way and come in before the whole field was alight. I often wonder even today how the men in the concrete box behaved, but I'll never know.

Making my way back to the platoon took me a considerable time and by the time I rejoined my company it was getting towards evening. I was so tired my feet felt as if they were falling off and I had to put another bandage over the shrapnel wound on my left leg, for there was a slight trickle of blood forming again on my skin. I came to a small-pebbled stream flowing under an old wooden bridge and decided that now was the time to have a nice quiet rest. As I was taking my shoe off, one of my buddies sat down beside me and said, "Where the hell have you been all day". I looked at him in amazement and when I had told him of what I had done, he said, "Well I'll be damned". We bathed our feet, had a wash and while each of us had turns on lookout the other had a catnap.

We were here for quite a long spell and it was getting dark as we made the journey back to the company. We dug two deep holes and gingerly crawled into them for the night. I did not know what the time was but I do know the hole was comfortable and even though I was sleeping in a puddle I fell fast asleep. The hedged fields of Normandy were gradually disappearing and as time went by the odd farmhouse came into view. The odd field of cows still remained, but the desolation was plainer to see. I cannot recollect ever seeing a huge gathering of people, only the odd peasant and whenever I approached a person, I got the uncanny impression I was not welcome. The sidewalks of the towns were alive with people, yelling "Viva La America鈥� and throwing flowers at us, and the odd potato.

Then came the task of clearing the street and searching for the odd sniper. This sometimes was not what I would call a picnic, for I had began to distrust all the residents in each town we went into; and I remembered this town very well. I went in a house with another soldier and we started to search the rooms. Every room in the house searched lacked any people so we went downstairs and tried the cellar door. It had been locked so my buddy Peter smashed the door down and as it fell down Peter was shot in the arm. Without hesitating I pulled the pin from a hand grenade, throwing it in as my wounded friend and I fell to the floor for safety. We both got up after the explosion and left the building quite satisfied the problem had been taken care of. In any case I had to find the nearest medic for my friend. It turned out to be not as bad a gunshot wound as the both of us feared. I鈥檓 sure Peter was expecting to be released from active service, but after being treated he was sent back to join his unit. It was a long time before we were satisfied, but some hours later the town would be considered clean. Then when our job was considered done, the Military Police arrived to take over and we were more or less told to carry on winning the war.

When a person cannot talk French or German, it is impossible to read sign posts to tell where you are. It is therefore easy to understand I only knew I was fighting a war in France but the route we were taking I never knew. I did know, however, that we were not far from the coastline and we were going to a place called Cherbourg. There are many ways a soldier can die and it's not always by the enemy. The whole company was following a pathway along the side of a forest of pine trees and talking softly amongst our-selves. Just in front of us a huge towering fur tree was blown into the air to fall among the leading men. The whole company knew that within seconds the whole area would be shelled. Knowing full well the old saying, "You never retreat, only withdraw", we threw this saying to the wind and ran like hell. Yes we did retreat! The company was to learn later on that it was not the enemy firing the big guns it became another error by our own forces. They were using the mighty 155鈥檚 on our own troops.

Going back a considerable distance, we all lay behind a huge ditch as the shelling continued. Quite a while later the shelling ceased and we again formed a line to go back to where the giant tree had fallen. The Sergeant wanted to see if any of the men missing from our unit were still alive. The entire area where we had been had large holes in the earth and trees lying criss-crossed everywhere. We found Corporal Stone dead just before the large spruce tree and he had not a mark on him. He had died from the concussion. Everyone in the company pulled the dead pine limbs away from the huge stem of the tree to expose another three of our chums. I will never forget the men who died that day, for they were very good friends of mine, and we had survived the Omaha Beach landing. The fate of these brave men was pushed to the back of my mind, for if I had broken down at every death I saw, I would not have survived the war. Many times in the bloody battles I took part in they鈥檙e always seemed to be one building that was untouched. The bombing and artillery only seemed to scrape the outside shell off of the buildings. These were beautiful old grey stoned churches, standing always alone with other buildings fallen down around them. This is a wonderful sight to see, but the Germans also took advantage of these sacred places. It was not unknown for the Jerry鈥檚 to leave a sniper in the upper most part of the church and more often then not the unseen man would succeed in claiming at least one life.

As the days went by I seemed to get less and less sleep. Adding to this with hardly any food or drink, lack of a bath and nothing but death all around, I dug in that night, feeling very low in spirit and although I felt tired I found it very hard to sleep and hoped to God that on this night I would forget about the war. No such thing happened and I tossed and turned all night but at long last I must have fallen asleep. The company awoke the following morning and gathered together for our orders. We then walked in a staggered line about five hundred yards apart until we saw the blue of the ocean. We followed the coastline for a while then veered inland. The day was very peaceful, hardly a sound was heard, but in the distance I could just make out the silhouette of men running here and there. To the right of these on a hill stood a real old thatched building. I very quickly rushed forward and told the officer in command what I had seen. He immediately took the field hand phone to tell the top commander in the rear the situation. As he was on the phone all hell broke loose. The first shell exploded about fifty yards to my left, then another a bit closer. I'd been in this situation before and as I started to run, so did the rest of the platoon. There was a bush here and there and a long hedgerow where some of the company went behind for cover. The rest of us started to dig foxholes and deep trenches to get where the enemy could not see us. Everyone knew where the danger lay, it was coming from the huge building, but we could not destroy it without outside help. The soldiers were saved from being slaughtered because the officer who had got a message through by phone had told them about the building.

All at once the old house was not there any more. It had a barrage of artillery shells hitting it and pieces of the old wooden building were flying everywhere. This, however, did not cause the shelling to cease only now the American shells were going over our heads, and the enemy artillery was doing the same. They both were trying to silence each other. This gave our company time to get out of our holes and following each other we ran like hell across the field to the left of us and up a small dirt road to find shelter from these big guns. That afternoon we got a message from headquarters that we were to halt the forward march we were on, find a place of refuge and wait for further orders. The platoon broke up, and each soldier found a comfortable place to stretch out on, but mostly to take off our heavy boots and have a good rest. A short time later, we were told to dig in, for we were to stay in this place for quite some time. We then proceeded to dig deep foxholes and some like myself were so tired we dug slit trenches instead. The ground where the platoon rested was as hard as brick, but at long last I was satisfied with the depth and putting my shovel away, rolled over into it. The hole was not too deep so I was able to sit in the trench and look over the top. I was tired when I started to dig and when finished I closed my eyes to fall into a deep sleep. Not long after I woke to feel a slight vibration in the ground. Slightly rolling on my side, I was able to glance out of my place of refuge, only to roll quickly back again.

To my amazement, I saw three Panzer tanks almost upon where I lay. As I was hiding in my hole and had not been seen, it was obvious I had picked the right place to dig. One of the tanks was nearly on to my slit trench when he started to fire at my chums. I actually looked out of the top of the hole I was laying in and looked up the side of the giant panzer. I lay deadly still and as I rolled over a little, the large muddy grey tank drove over the top of my place of concealment. If I hadn't had my helmet on at the time, I'm sure my hair would have stood on end. The panzer going over me proved how hard the soil was and as for myself, I stayed where I was for a long time before I very gingerly got out of there. The tanks had been long gone and in leaving had blown holes in the earth everywhere, but what annoyed me more was why we weren't warned before hand.

Everyone who had dug in got out of the holes they had dug long before the tanks arrived on the scene. The only explanation I could arrive at was they couldn't wake me up! As before, we had all gathered again to reform the line and walk up a long dusty road and as we trod along there was an artillery barrage being fought out. The German eighty-eights were going over the top of us and from the other direction came the one fifty-fives, (the whispering deaths) both seemed to be landing about a mile either side of us. We were walking up a long hill, tired and weary and not really expecting anything to happen, when a German soldier ran across the road about five hundred yards in front of the column. I bet nearly everyone treading up that road fired at him and believe it or not, not one bullet hit him. In fact I can see it now, when he flung himself into the undergrowth at the other side of the road, he turned quickly to put two fingers up and disappeared into the bushes.

It had been a funny old day with the tanks and the lucky German, but the day again was coming to a close, so we pulled up alongside the road to find another place to spend the night and make plans for the coming day. Every time the bright sun passed over the horizon and the large moon arose to bathe the earth in shadows, became time to thank the good Lord for another day. I believe that everyman that fought with me on Omaha Beach was a true veteran, not just because he made the landing and survived. The stress he went through was astonishing and he deserved the highest award given to a man, for the service to his country. I thought of all of this and at long last I fell into a very deep sleep. On this particular night our Sergeant made a most horrible mistake that was to claim the lives of four of the brave men in the company. I suppose owing to tiredness he forgot one of the great codes of war. Always protect your rear flank but he forgot to put out sentries.

I awoke a few times that night to hear the odd snore coming from a foxhole just beside me, but other than this I felt reasonably safe, that is until I was awaken at the break of day by shouting, and looking out of my refuge, I saw two of my friends gazing down into the hole next to mine. One of the men was so upset, he was crying and calling out the names of the men in the hole, and the men standing beside him were shouting over and over again, "the dirty bastards", and raising his rifle in the air was firing it.

We at first looked to see if the sentry had survived and then was told none had been posted on duty that evening. Any other time a man would have been put on charge for this error of stupid judgement. Being in enemy territory they deemed it as just another mistake, so we learned a very costly lesson and one that should never happen again. We did find out later that a German patrol had passed that way during the night and finding no sentry it became a gift from the Gods and they took it. All four men were bayoneted whilst they slept, but I did not realise till later on that day that my hole was next in line and I often wonder why the Germans did not carry on the slaughter.

The weather had got worse and was wet and windy as the company regrouped to go forward, but we left the area with the medics on hand to take care of the wounded men. The rain literally poured down and got worse as the day went on and as not one of the soldiers had proper rainwear we all got soaked to the skin and felt tired, depressed and fed up with this damn war. About an hour later the heavy rains abated, leaving a slight drizzle and some mist in the air. We all saw the trees in the distance and the whole company walked very slowly toward them, hoping to find shelter of sorts from the elements. One hundred yards from the woods, the man on my left fell to the ground as we heard a rifle shot.

There were four of us scouting that day and as we heard the rifle shot the other three flung themselves to the ground, as all hell broke loose. With the rest of the company following behind and not far from the trees, only one thing could happen and this must mean casualties. Men began to scream and others tried to find a rift in the ground to crawl into and return the rifle fire coming from the woods, but it was like shooting at shadows and all the time the Americans could not go forward or back. Three of the remaining scouts were nearer to the tree edge than the main group of men, so we slithered and crawled into the outskirt of tress and lay with our backs to a stump.

Looking back from where we lay we could make out the many dark shapes that lay on the earth, but many were still firing towards the woods and I'm sure they could not see anyone, only trees. It was a hopeless task and without a miracle things looked very bleak. This was exactly the same as the Omaha landing we were again sitting ducks. I've heard the old expression that if you pray long enough your prayers will be answered and I think that everyone on that day prayed for the same thing and so it happened.

The three of us under the tree were kneeling in a pool of wet, cold and slimy mud when we heard a loud humming noise, coming from the field behind us. Then in the distance I just made out the shape of a huge tank, coming up the long dusty road. Its turret moving from left to right and beside this tank another appeared I counted three in all. The prayers we'd asked for had been answered for they were our own Sherman tanks. The vehicles came through the space between the hedgerows and stopped facing the trees. There turrets swung left and all the guns opened fire. I thanked my lucky stars that they were not pointing in our direction, but they were near enough for the striking shells to blow debris into our place of concealment. One foolish German came from the woods to aim an anti-tank shell at the Sherman's. He never stood a chance, for as he emerged from his place of concealment, one of the shells hit him and he just disappeared. All at once all the noise of firing ceased, for the enemy all drew back into the undergrowth and as we were the closest to them we got to our feet and ever so slowly followed after them. The large Sherman's had certainly changed the situation for now instead of being on the receiving end, the Jerries were getting more then we had received.

The afternoon was nearly gone as everyone entered the under growth and left the good old medic to tend to the sick and dying and this was to take a very long time. No resistance was met for the Germans had drawn all their troops back, leaving an empty forest, but for the odd sniper to contend with. Many a good man had died this day and there was no holding back those that wanted revenge and they would die to achieve and pay back the Germans for this ambush. It was not a large forest as we expected it to be, but a large tract of woods. It was not long before we came out the other side of the trees and were amazed to see the Germans with their hands above their heads waving a white flag frantically in the air. I do not think there was too much elation over this victory, for most of the men wanted revenge for the killing of their mates. Nobody can say with any certainty, but I do believe that everyone that surrendered did not live to gloat over what they had achieved. Not everyone gave up during this battle, for many a German went across to the next field to disappear and fight again.

The majority of these men were the old guards, the SS, the hard core of the German army. We all had lost very close soldier friends this day, but this was happening every day and we knew that one day it had to be yours truly, but we were too damn tired to care. We would leave this place in France as just another memory but in the meantime we had at least another three quarters of Normandy to walk through and needed to get to our resting place and shelter for the night. The usual routine was performed the following morning arising and receiving our orders for the day. We split up in a group of five to go along a valley toward a high field that stood in the distance. I was in the lead for about two miles and beckoned the other four to keep following the route along the lower ground. I chose to go up the side of the hill to about half way to keep my eyes open for any sign of the enemy. I found this worked quite well, for I saw the four at the bottom and as they could work from the base, I could see everything from above.

Nothing unusual occurred until we reached the end of the valley and as I was above and leading quite a distance in front, I saw the large house first. The four soldiers at the bottom of the hill could not see it or realise a group of Germans had seen them and gone into the large building to await their coming. No way could I warn them, for to do that would surely jeopardise my own life. I had hardly any time to make a decision, but in a flash it came to me, attack the house. In my cartridge belt was six full cases of ammunition (each case was a bullet container) and in each one had been put a tracer shell, then a live shell. I lay on the ground to aim at the top window and fired my first bullet. The noise plus the tracer flame overhead made my buddies below stop to look where the noise came from. The tracer bullet acted as an arrow pointing out where I was to fire the next shot. Then a live shot was fired and as I fired the second tracer I knew that each round I fired was going into the upstairs room. I emptied the case full of bullets, reloaded and kept firing into the open space until smoke came out of the window and I knew that the place was on fire. I waited for a short time after the fire started and what I expected happened and oh boy, were they in for a surprise.

While I was carrying out my mission of setting the house ablaze, the whole rear guard had stationed themselves behind the three trees that nestled in the grounds of the old house. The next few minutes were nerve racking, and I could not be sure that the enemy I last saw remained in the confines of the house. They could have gone out the other side and were hiding in other parts of the large yard. The fire was coming out of the building and the whole top of the house was now burning furiously. I could now hear from where I lay hidden the sound of falling timber and slowly making my way down the hill and skirting a large bush, I was just in time to see and hear the Germans as they ran out of the door, shooting at everything that moved. As they shot unluckily, they gunned down one of our men, but they really had no chance at all. It was just a gamble on their part, but we held all the aces. The battle was over in about five minutes, leaving about twelve Germans dead on the ground and one was taken captive. This turned out to be a high-ranking officer. He was returned to the nearest army headquarters without delay and the four survivors, including yours truly, received congratulations for our bravery.

The enemy front line was about two miles in front of us, so we had to be extremely careful. There seemed to be German snipers everywhere. Our basic training had taught us never to stay in groups, so the company spread out in a long line and gradually moved forward over the horizon. A Major was just to my right and was sitting with a field telephone in his hands. "You men" he shouted, "come around me and go forward, and keep your tails to the ground, for the guns cannot be very far away". We had no way of knowing how far ahead the action was, but there was only one way to go and that was forward. Three of us decided to stay as close as possible together but not in a group. The rest of the platoon went straight on, as my chums and I veered slightly to the left and then we found ourselves quite a distance in front of the strung out men. This meant we were leaving the men we fought with well behind and as we slowly arrived at the bottom of a steep hill, another old house came into view. Private Lazar pointed to a large rock and we both sat behind it to stare at this place with suspicion. It was situated in an isolated position and must have been miles from the nearest village. It was then I noticed the flicker of light appearing at an upstairs window. I pointed my finger at the house and we both saw the light again. With guns at the ready, we both made our way toward the old structure. It had become very difficult for us to conceal ourselves, for the bushes and trees were gradually thinning out. We stopped about a quarter mile away to sit and watch. The light was flashing again as if someone was signalling. Both of us were in no doubt that this was an attempt to point out the position of the American forces. Then the two of us waited behind the huge rock for quite a long time.

The signals had ceased and at last our comrades approached where we waited. We made our report to the company commander, not leaving out the fact about the old house and what we had seen, but to my dismay he took no notice. I put this down to tiredness, for it had been a long day and we were very tired. If the leader had taken our report and acted upon it, what happened next would not have occurred. I believe the message by mirror from the window was to tell the enemy exactly where we were and so they were prepared and waiting for us. German marksmen seemed to be everywhere, in a large tree close by and from over the long stonewall. My friend Lazar, walking next to me, was one of the first casualties, but he was lucky. The bullet that hit him went straight through his open mouth and came out the other side of his face. Another literally had his arm cut off by shrapnel, and then the artillery barrage came. The men in the window had certainly done their job well. To this day I still say the old house should have been at least investigated. Maybe this wicked massacre could have been avoided, but of course it became another 'accident' by someone higher up, and who paid the penalty for this stupid error, well of course it was the front line troops?

This was not to be the only mistake made during my twenty-eight days of battle and as time went by everyone took them to be just an act of stupidity. The heavy guns threw everything at us baring the kitchen sink and bodies of my comrades were floating in pieces in the air. I made a dash for a huge hole and jumped in. I was just in front of another man and he landed on top of me, a large fat man who completely covered my body. My guardian angel must have been with me, for as we both leapt into the hole an eighty-eight shell struck just on the lip of the bank, blowing the man on top of me apart.

The place of refuge we'd both jumped into was a cesspool and with the stench coming from below and bloody remains on top of my body, I could not move. I was petrified. Then I remember sobbing like a small boy. If anyone had asked my name at that time, I would not have known it. I recall shoving the remains of the dead comrade off me and looked at the old house. In a split second the structure had blown apart, leaving an empty space where it had once stood. Two Sherman tanks appeared on the scene and as the shells ceased for a spell, I made a dash for safety with lots of the soldiers following me. I came to a small stream of water and threw myself in, without worrying about what I was wearing. In fact I was so traumatised at this time I hardly knew what I was doing. Again although I did not know it at the time I was lucky for I could have drowned. Somehow not knowing what I was doing a bush was grabbed and I fell on the bank to pass out. I remember the rest of the company passing me, but it was a long time later before I became able to get to my feet and walk ahead to find my platoon. I gave a small prayer of thanks and I do believe I was literally speechless for two or three hours. I kept thinking of what had happened and the horrible nightmare I had just gone through.

They had moved a considerable distance and as I caught them up we were approaching a small town. All the buildings of this area seemed deserted. All I could hear was a dog howling in the distance. Everyone was on the alert as we spread apart to go cautiously from doorway to doorway to search each house for life. The odd Frenchman was found, but we never knew whether they were for us or against us. We made very good headway in clearing the town of the enemy, but there was the odd sniper and a few dead Americans as we passed out of the town. Speaking quite candidly, I am still not sure that a few of the dead bodies were not Germans but French, because there were quite a few collaborators fighting with the Germans during the war, and of course this was to be expected as they were under German occupation.

I'm very sure everybody was relieved to get away from this area and there were a few sad faces as some had left good friends behind who they'd never see again. Within a short time we had arrived at another town and this one was a lot larger than the one we'd just gone through. This time there were a few people on the sidewalk, and as we slowly walked along the road there were yells of "Viva La Americano", and even the odd drink was offered but politely refused. We were extremely lucky in gaining access to this place, for the enemy had moved out just before we'd arrived. One thing for certain happened during the capture of these towns and villages, as soon as we went out of the town the military police always moved in.

Chapter Six: The Road to St. Lo

All the company walked through, but would surely have been shot or put on charge if we'd returned. One thing I can recall as I walked through the town. There was a long piece of wood nailed to a post, beside the road and the arrow on it pointed to a sign, St Lo. This of course meant nothing to me but we followed this sign for about five miles before splitting up to walk a distance apart. I walked around a large bush before me and saw a skinny little man sitting in front of a boulder, and he arose as I neared him, he pulled up short as I pointed my rifle at him. He uttered words in French that I did not understand then said, "Comrade Americano", and he held out his skinny little hand palm up and to my amazement saw a fist full of diamond rings. I knew immediately where this pile of diamonds had come from and I nearly shot the bastard; out of hate. It must have taken this French man, hours to collect this loot from all the dead bodies and in a way I also felt sorry for him, for God knows how long he'd gone without food. I'm glad I never shot him, but I did the next best thing. He turned to run away and in doing so he dropped the stones. Even today I sometimes wonder how I threw away a fortune as I threw the lot over the dark green hedge.

Miles in front I stopped to sit down and decided to take my shoes and socks off to dangle them in a small stream, flowing from the side of a bank. God what a relief this was. I almost fell asleep since I felt so damn tired. As I arrived at a large glade of woods I met most of the platoon but then we had another problem we'd not accounted for. A team of mortar fighters manned the area just opposite. The very first shell landed where the soldiers were walking. All the men disappeared, each trying to find a place of safety. I went to the left as the others went right, but of course I chose the wrong way. The motar bomb exploded just beside me and I could not remember a thing. I fell to the Earth and blacked out.

All the soldiers rushed by me looking neither to the left or right. Everyone was trying to save his or her own lives. I never knew it at the time, for I was out cold. As was never seen I was counted as one of the dead. They left every one missing to be picked up by the medics as they came up in the rear. What happened to the enemy in the opposite field I never did know, nor never will, for I was out for the count. Sometime later and I'll never know how long I again joined the world of the living. All was quiet and nothing stirred and it took a long time for me to remember. I raised myself and pushed a piece of bush away from my body and found to my relief I could still stand upright. Shrapnel was sticking out of my right leg, but was not deep into the skin, so I very gingerly removed it and not long later joined my buddies and believe it or not there were some who had tears in their dirt stained faces, for they all thought me dead.

The evening had turned into dusk as we found a place of security and dug our foxholes, without the fear of being heard and in a safe place. The large yellow moon was well into the star-studded sky. One of the men stood as sentry and the others slid into the dark holes, to instantly fall into a deep sleep. The alert man standing guard could only have heard the sound of snoring and occasionally the odd yell of someone having a nightmare. The night went peacefully and the following morning everyone was wide-awake, but dreading what the day might bring. We had our drink from the canteen, and if we were lucky enough had the odd 'C' ration. The Sergeant estimated we were about two miles from the front line so deemed it quite safe to have a break and put out feet up for a small space of time. We had this break and it did us all the World of good, as we were all knackered.

Then we had another stroke of luck. A runner had come up from the rear to tell our officer that we were to wait for replacements and supplies to reach us. To be able to put our feet up for once was a surprise, but to be told we could stay here longer was a real bonus. It was not long after this that the new men turned up. I counted about sixty greenhorns, all somewhere between nineteen and twenty years old and all of whom appeared frightened. As I looked at them I realised that one day long ago I'd felt exactly the same, but it would not take long before they would be veterans.

I filled my helmet with water as I listened to the news they brought up from the rear, washed my face and stooped down to re-bandage the blood seeping from the wound in my leg. A medic standing close by came over to where I was standing and examined my leg. "Okay my friend" he said, "but if it gets any worse report it" and walked away. All day long we stopped at this place of refuge and to us all it seemed like paradise. Everyone of us knew that all good things come to an end, so all canteens were filled with fresh water, put as many rounds of cartridges in our ammunition belts as possible and got ready for the orders the company was expecting. The orders to move out eventually came and to our surprise only half the company moved out, and the other half were told to remain where they were. This seemed very odd, but all of us remained seated as the other men vanished in the distance. We waited all day long for the others to catch us up, but we waited in vain and this was the only time I can remember that we had such a long rest. Daylight hours passed and the twilight came and still, no orders to move out, so as darkness appeared we again crawled back into the hole we'd dug the previous night. I do not know why, but this was a restless night and as I gazed up at the bright stars overhead, my thoughts were about my family I'd left so long ago and what the time would be about now. By the time I fell asleep, I'm sure tears were in my eyes.

I awoke to the sound of voices and felt quite refreshed. The voice then got louder and I heard, "shake a leg and form into a group in front of me, for this is another day of walking". The platoon gathered around the Sergeant to wait for further instructions. "We will today join the rest of our command who left yesterday and with any luck this should not take very long". A voice behind the ranks shouted, "towards Cherbourg", "that's all I can tell you at this moment, so lets be on our way", said the Sergeant. At first the terrain was flat and easy to walk on, but then the rains came and it came down in torrents. Before we knew it I was wading through water up to my ankles and all of us were dripping with water. "Private Nelson, go toward that hill and see if you can see the rest of the unit, and if you can, signal back", the Sergeant said. Without hesitation I turned to the left and found my way through a wooded area. I found a bunch of trees, bent in all shapes laying over each other in a criss-cross fashion, with moss covering their bases. A young man lay against the stump of one of the trees. A young soldier dressed in a Nazi uniform, but with sight less eyes staring straight ahead.

He had been dead for quite a while and probably had died in the blitz of an enemy attack. I gazed with sadness as I noted in his out-stretched hand he held a photograph of two little children and a very pretty woman. This was one of the times I felt distressed and bitter with this damn war. I'm not ashamed to admit that I was sobbing as I trudged away from this scene. I slowly walked up a large ridge and as I came to the top I saw the rest of the company in the distance and signalled the news to my Sergeant and a while later I rejoined my platoon. Once back with my unit I fell in and took my place in the long strung out column to go forward, forever on the alert.

An hour later we were again in action. The sound of gunfire could be heard, just coming over the ridge. I was beckoned forward and went slightly in the lead, leaving most men to the right of me, and the further I went the longer the gap opened between us. The area we were in was field after field hemmed in by the hedges and occasionally a tree, but it was typical Normandy scenery. The tall green hedge was just in front of me. I clutched a piece of long turf from its side and hauled myself over it to fall flat on the other side. This turned out to be an unlucky day for me, for I fell into a large puddle of water. I slid out of where I landed and under my breath I said a few nasty words, but not out loud and this probably saved my life.

Crouching down I slowly made my way backwards and I could see my chums out of the corner of my eyes going forward in the next field and all seemed well. I saw Peter, one of my best friends in the distance and waved my rifle at him, and he acknowledged with a salute. Still stooping over and literally crawling backwards I could not see what lie between the two mounds on top of the hedge, but I heard the gun as it exploded and I saw poor Peter fall to the ground. I looked up and saw the bolt action rifle resting on top of the hedge still smoking and without thinking I reached up, grabbed the weapon and pulled it toward me.

What happened next took me by surprise for I had pulled the German over the hedge. He fell to the ground just at my feet, but we both had a hold of the gun. I released the rifle and as he swung it toward me, I shot him with my own weapon. I can and will always remember the look of surprise as he fell to the ground. I can recall I was a lucky man this day for if I had not been quiet as I crawled backwards, or stopped when I did the bullet would have killed me instead of poor old Peters. Glancing to my side I noticed all the troops in the field opposite had stopped when they saw one of the men shot and were lying on the ground with rifles at the ready. I raced to the hedge in front of me and jumped it, and as tall as it was I never touched the top, but to my surprise I landed in the middle of a group of my own squad. Everybody was taken by surprise at my coming out of nowhere but I think I was a little annoyed that everyone was not more spread out. I should have been pleased to see all my comrades, but I knew that where one German was hiding there would be more and it turned out I was right, for as I thought this a stick grenade landed right in the middle of the men and blew up. All bedlam broke loose, each soldier scurried away leaving almost half the squad lying on the cold green earth, either dead or badly in need of medical attention.

Then before everyman could disperse, another grenade was hurled over the hedge, but fortunately it landed quite away from its target. All the men knew where the grenades were coming from so without ado, about twenty of our own were flung back and there were howls of pain, followed by silence. I felt something wet and sticky running down my unshaven face and I thought at first I'd been wounded, but running my hands over it I gave a sigh of relieve. It was only sweat. We never checked up to find if all the enemy had been eliminated, for it was such a large area, but I do know that the remainder of men looked over where we had slung our missiles and three dead Germans would throw no more grenades in this war, but counting the dead plus the wounded, the Germans had won this skirmish.

The good old medics were soon on the scene and in total, we had two dead and two more were taken to the back lines for treatment. I may make this story sound as if it was only me that did all the fighting and decisions, but the reader would be wrong to think this, for I followed every order, as so did all the others, but remember, when a person is on his own and this happened most of the time, a person had to make up his own mind what was best for himself and the men fighting with him. When I was a small boy religion played a small part in my life and I never ever gave it a thought. Maybe it was because I never needed it, but during the days of fighting it became part of my life, for there was hardly a day went by that I did not give a silent prayer and at the end of each day and a quiet thank you for still being alive. I鈥檒l be willing to bet a non-religious man would be a devout Christian if he survived this war. Later in the afternoon we were partially able to reach the opposite field and finding nothing of importance, we proceeded to go forward again.

Occasionally the men up front would sight a tank in the distance, but it was difficult to say whether it was one of ours, or a Tiger. The digging of slit trenches and foxholes became part of protecting ourselves and sometimes if the ground was rocky or hard, you had to find another spot to dig. On this night, having seen the village in the distance, the Sergeant gave orders to dig in and wait for morning. One of the PFC's and myself went to the edge of a hedge and both of us took turns digging just below the obstacle, with a small leafed tree above it. Two hours later the job was finished and as twilight turned to dusk we crawled down into the hole and leaned our rifles against the sides. The foxhole was not that large but we were at least out of sight and were able to sit down, despite feeling a bit cramped. A dark cloud shut out the glow of the moon and all at once thunder could be heard. Then to our dismay, it started to rain. Reaching above us we pulled and tugged the top end of the small tree over the hole. This stopped some of the raindrops from entering, but as time went on the puddle at the bottom of our resting place, spread until we both were sitting in water.

"Do you know what", said my buddy, "I think its about time we made a move", and both of us climbed out of the hole, to try and find shelter under the overhang of the hedge. I suppose in a way this was the bath we had ignored for a very long time. Mind you I would have enjoyed a shave as well, but it was not to be. I would think half the company was sheltering under the hedge, but by the time the night ended, everyone was soaked to the skin. I do not think one of us could say we had a good nights rest, and the first light of morning showed everyone was really on edge. Down hills and up hills we went, only stopping to relieve ourselves, and the evening was fast approaching. We had to find a safe and secure place for the night. It passed without mishap and the following morning the whole company was on the march again.

In the field that was just in front of us the scouts were needed and four of us went about a mile in front, to lead the men and search for any sight of the enemy. I was about five hundred yards to the side of the other three men and as I went around a large woody area I came to a quick halt. I gazed into a field that stood on the outskirts of trees and saw large round poles sticking from the ground. They were yards apart and I saw no reason for this until I got closer. I saw the bodies of five young Americans spread eagled on the ground, very close to a smashed up glider laying in pieces. The bodies must have been there since D-Day for the smell of death still lingered in the air. It literally made me want to throw up and I felt so sick. Stopping to look down at one of the bodies I saw the face of a young man about my age and remember thinking to myself, "this could have been me lying there", for I was offered the chance of changing my infantry regiment to become a Para, many months ago, but turned it down, for I could not see myself jumping out of a plane and picked the best of the two evils, the Infantry.

I left this place of carnage with a heavy heart and as I trudged along the only consolation I had was that now at least they would be picked up and have a decent burial. Up to this time we fought the battles in comparatively open conflict but for the entire slaughter I鈥檇 seen on the D-Day Landing will always stay in my mind, it most likely will be with me for the rest of my life. My mind quickly came back to the present as a Panzer Division attacked us. Four Tiger tanks came into view, rolling at our strung out forces. I think it surprised our leader for the tanks had come from the town we were approaching. We all spread out as they came toward our platoon and every one darted for a place of safety. All my company was not duly alarmed for our troops were prepared for all surprises. Nearly half the company had been issued with anti-tank grenades (a kind of grenade that could be fired by a special bullet). Seven men loaded their rifles to aim and knock the tread from each tank, thus putting each vehicle out of action. While all this action was being performed, the people of the town seemed to be watching the fight from every window and rooftop. To me at the time it seemed they couldn't have cared less if we'd won or not. The tanks being out of action meant we could capture them at out leisure.

It never took long before the company was nearing the outskirts of the quite large town and even today I can only tell the reader it had 'Le' before the name. The town was spread out, but it had two main streets with rows of houses on both sides, with an occasional shop separating them. A typical French village setting. Two squads of men waited on both ends of the streets and the remainder of the company searched each house for any enemy hidden. This was a long tedious job and it lasted nearly all daylight hours. We not only had to put up with the French antics, but also the Jerries. It was very difficult for us to tell a German from a Frenchman because we could speak only a small bit of the new language and could only go by what they were wearing. Noontime came and went and we had captured or killed about a dozen men and lost two. The large beautiful building in the square was a large grey stoned church and I could not help stopping after seeing a bullet hole in the leaded glass window and the large tower in front of the door rising high in the air, but what the squad I was with didn't see was a rifle resting on the ledge of the window, just hidden by a reddish yellow stone. Without realising what I was doing, I had aimed and fired in one motion. The window slammed shut with the force of the body that hit it and he plunged outside the aperture to land just beyond the searchers. It was sheer luck I had seen him for the burp gun (machine gun) landed just yards in front of the body.

We at long last searched all the buildings and reluctantly allowed the people (mostly inside the great church) to return to their homes. Even then we were not sure how many of the Germans were dressed as Frenchmen. We went through the town, leaving the military police to take over. The soldiers were on the alert, so sentries were put out and we camped just outside of town. It was a tired group of men that dug a hole for the long night. I was that tired I can't even remember crawling into it. I cannot recall how long I slept, but was woken up during the darkness, to hear voices and activity just beyond my resting place and glancing out of my hole I was able to see a line of German soldiers walking some distance away from me and away from where the company was dug in and then they disappeared into the night. I reported what I had seen to the commanding officer the following morning and was told to forget the incident, but to keep my eyes peeled as they could be waiting somewhere ahead. My feet were playing me up lately and I had a large sore on my left foot. Sometimes I believe I'd walked all over Europe and time had no meaning, it was just the case of just keep walking to survive. Peter Stobe, the man shot by the German I'd killed, was probably the best friend I ever knew in my army career, but I also had many more soldiers that I knew and without them I would not be telling you this story, for many times we saved each others lives, so I must at least name just a few.

Sergeant Carter was one of the first, he had his face literally blown off, Sergeant Bowchamp, the ex cook who died cooking the chicken, Private's Lazar, Cotton and Williams. In fact too many to mention, but they will forever be in my memories. Many times during the war I wandered off just to get a bit of rest and have time to relax. I was lucky to have this privilege, as I was the scout for my company. When I had the time I would do this for I felt I had to. Otherwise I probably would not have had the sanity to go on. I found that just a small prayer helped to take away the stress. Returning to my platoon took me quite a long time as I had wandered a long way from them, and as I came near them they were near a wooded area. Always one had to be on alert, for this meant life or death and at this particular moment it meant life for one of my company.

I looked above a group walking along with guns alert, but they had not noticed the German sniper above them on a branch and aiming at someone. I aimed very quickly and shot him, but instead of hitting the target I hit a branch just beside him and he plummeted to the ground, landing just in front of a walking soldier. He was taken prisoner, but the amazing part of this capture came as I rejoined my company and found the sniper dressed in civilian clothing. I never did find out the outcome of this mystery, for shortly after the capture, the prisoner was taken away to be interrogated but I still have my suspicions. At this time I would have given my right arm to have been back home in the States and I was always thinking of my youth, for although I had nothing but love as a boy, I grew up to believe in the freedom of others. No way would anyone convince me that I would one-day travel so many miles from home to fight an enemy that I never knew. I suppose in a way I was lucky, for if I had been brought-up as a rich man's son, then, I probably would never have survived. I know what stress is, but would a pampered young man know the meaning of the word?

The days seemed never ending, but in-between the action with the enemy we also had many other things to talk about and sometimes subjects arose that no one had thought about. I was born and grew up in a small town called Camden, Maine, a New England State, in the good old USA and knew nothing about racism. I was nineteen years old when I first saw a Negro, and this only happened when I was drafted into the American army. Even here they kept the coloured population apart from the Whites and no one ever explained to me the reason why. This was one of the first subjects brought up and the answer became quite interesting.

At the time I was walking with a scout, a man from the Deep South and the subject arose. "I cannot mix with any Black man, and as for fighting with him, I'd rather be dead", he said, and he really meant every word he said. As he spoke these words I took my eyes off him for a moment to gaze at the smoke rising in the distance and carried on speaking, and as he spoke I realised why Blacks never mixed with Whites. Of course he was right for the problem went back to the Civil War, when blacks were freed from slavery and even up to World War Two they still were not treated as equals. Later that day my theory proved true in part. We had been walking all morning when without notice the entire company was stopped and our platoon Sergeants were ushered forward to receive new orders. It seemed that the Germans, according to intelligence were many miles in front of our position, so we were to await transport. As I recall up to then it had never happened before, but I think everyone was looking forward to the ride and it gave our poor feet a rest. From somewhere out of the blue behind the men, lorries appeared to draw up to where we stood and low and behold every driver was a black man. It appeared that the soldier I talked to was right when he said, "all Negro's were put into non combat positions, because they could not be trusted to fight with their Southern Whites".

This was why I never met a man, other than Whites fighting the battles. Everyone must remember this all happened in the late Thirties and Forties and even today a certain amount of hatred still exists. This may surprise the reader, but it is perfectly true. This does not say the Negro did not play their part in the War, for I'm sure they did the Americans Army proud and also did their part in winning this terrible War. We had a very uncomfortable ride for about an hour over the bumpy roads and around large holes in the earth made by the recent artillery shells. Then of course another bloomer occurred, for the information we had received about the whereabouts of the enemy was totally wrong, for instead of the German line being in front, we were already in no mans land. Twelve lorries full of soldiers in this dusty old road, but there was plenty of space between each vehicle and if this had not been so, countless of lives would have been lost. I was sitting just behind the Sergeant who sat behind the coloured driver. Therefore I was gazing between the two, out of the windscreen. We went along a long straight road and approached a large bend and as we went around it we got a shock, for sitting facing us was a Panzer Tiger tank.

I think this encounter took everyone by surprise, for although we knew we were in enemy lines, we had no idea we were this close and the driver swerved the truck over the banking beside the road just as the tank fired its first shell. We were already off the road and running down a slight incline, so the missile never touched, but the lorry behind was struck dead centre and although I cannot be sure, I'll bet not one man survived this shell. The vehicle I was in hit the ditch and rolled over. The vehicles in the rear were able to pull up on the side of the road and everyone sought a place of refuge. The lorry I was in was certainly in dire trouble. Everyone was flung into the air, as it came to a rest and rolled over onto its top, leaving everyone lying in a heap
.
Considering the state of the truck and the way we landed, we were very lucky to have escaped without casualties. All the men, including myself only suffered minor bruises, but no one died in our lorry. I crawled out from under the rear of the lorry, being very careful not to touch the bent and sharp pieces of metal jutting out from the chassis. To my amazement I saw an empty road. Where tanks had been before, now there was emptiness. Everyone proceeded to claw our way up the bank and rejoin the rest of the outfit, passing as we did the blazing motor that was hit first and twelve bodies lying beside it. We then got the information we should have had before the lorries were boarded. The Jerry鈥檚 were closer than at first was realised. We were somewhere two miles inside the front line. The Captain must have sensed we could not return by transport, so the drivers were told to retreat behind the front line and we had no option but to go forward, towards the enemy.

Once again all the scouts were sent a distance in front of the men to reconnaissance the ground the men were approaching. I passed the signs of where the Tigers had gone, then saw approaching us a group of German soldiers, waving a large white flag and arms rose above their heads. I raised my rifle as they came nearer and beckoned the leader to come nearer. With a high screeching, but frightened voice, I heard him say "comrade", and he started to talk in German. I could not understand a word he said, so with my rifle at their back I herded them back to the Captain. The surprise on his face as I led them to him lasted about a few moments, and then they were quickly taken to the back of the action zone for acute questioning and I again resumed my leading of the company. The countryside contained so many hills and valleys that it became almost impossible to tell if the enemy was near, so three more scouts were sent to join me, making four of us in all. On and on we walked with the major part of the company following on behind, but well strung out, partly on the road and everywhere to be seen, but always alert. Not long after, we came to an old fashioned sign post beside the roads with three arrows pointing different ways, but the one we took particular note of pointed to St Lo, the way we were travelling and not long after we rounded a sharp bend and there were the outskirts of the large town.

We were standing on a long hill as many of the men and the Captain joined us. All around were men lying on the ground with rifles and machine guns pointing at the houses. The Captain and Sergeant were speaking to each other, and after a while came to a decision. They called for all the platoon leaders to join them for orders. We were told to walk toward the buildings, leaving plenty of space between each man and to take no risks. So very slowly we walked, looking to the left and right as we went forward. The town people appeared on the fringe of the buildings, as we got nearer, and then disappeared in seconds, leaving an empty area. The reason why came very quickly as all hell broke loose. Many times before we had made mistakes, and paid the penalty, but never the same as this one.

This time I was able to dive behind a garden fence that rose before me as I was firing my rifle at the shadowy figures of the Germans and landed on the hard brown earth. I was safe as long as I stayed undercover, but knew I could not stay in this position very long. Somehow I must if I could, eliminate the five Germans firing at my chums who seemed to be well hidden but vulnerable. From the place I was laying in, I saw the first of five Germans with the first one being in plain sight. I aimed for his shoulder and fired and he fell to the ground, never knowing what hit him. He was taken out of action but the other four were well protected. They were shooting from an old shed. The rickety door was hanging on its hinges, so this made our task easier. Each soldier pulled a hand grenade from his top pocket, pulled the pin and chucked it at the partially open space. By sheer luck one of them hit the side of the door and rolled inside. It takes five seconds for a grenade to explode, before I could say a word the whole shed blew up and parts of it floated in the air above my head.

I felt we had done our share of the fighting that day. At long last all the American soldiers were inside the boundaries of the town, but all around lay the dead and dying, as usual the poor medics were hard at work. The enemy in the meantime had dispersed back into the town, but the Americans were following them. So began the task of the cleaning up operation, which would take hours to do before we felt safe to move on. As this was the biggest town we'd had contact with, it took more soldiers to search out and liberate. Once the Germans had retreated from the perimeter of the town, it left space for the Americans to fill the gap, thus we went gradually forward and well inside the town.

The Sergeant walked very quickly to the side of the street and yelled, "I want every person capable of walking to come out of hiding, and stand in the middle of the street, for all properties will be searched". He paused and went on, "if anyone disobeys this order he will be taken prisoner and may be shot". He then walked back and gave the order that there was to be five men detailed to walk and search on each side of the streets. This took nearly every man in the company for there were many roads with property to make safe and this had to be done before nightfall.

The liberation of St. Lo went beyond expectations, for the inhabitants of the large town acted with speed that amazed everyone. They gathered in large numbers to stand idly in the middle of the roadway and jabbered in French as we inspected the houses on each road. Occasionally a shot was heard, but as time went on it became very quiet. I would think the road the five of us searched went for miles, or so it seemed, but at long last the squad arrived at the end to be faced by another large grey stoned church. "Thank God for this", I said to myself, but I'd no sooner thought it when a shot was heard, and one of my chums fell just in front of me. As the rifle shot sounded I flung myself to the ground just below a gravestone and the other three did likewise.

Three German soldiers stood just in front of the church door with hands above their head, and the fourth one stood a few yards to the side with smoke coming from the barrel of his rifle. He had already lined his rifle towards me and to my amazement as he pulled the trigger all the weapon did was click. He had a dead shell in the cylinder of his rifle.

I knew I was lucky I didn't suffer the same fate my chum had, but so was the German, for as soon as he heard the click, the rifle was dropped and his hands flung skyward. My friends and myself nearly shot him but I could never shoot an unarmed man. It was nearly dusk before the Commander was satisfied the town was liberated and we all gave a sigh of relief, even though we knew as we filed out of the perimeter of the area we would not be allowed back, for as we left the Military Police came in, and thus it became their responsibility to patrol the town and generally keep the peace. After leaving the outskirts of the built up area the company had to find a place of rest, as it was getting dark. We gathered in a large grassy field just outside St. Lo, with a road running beside a tall tree stumped hedge. It also had a large arrow pointing up the dusty street with the name Cherbourg.

Chapter Seven: Death From Above

The foxhole I dug was just above the outskirts of town and we were able to see the place we had just vacated. Looking to the right of us we saw trees on the horizon. Gradually the night closed in and the huge yellow moon rose. We also saw to our surprise ripples of light on the water appear as the moon showed between the cloudy skies a river just beyond where our foxholes were dug. My buddy beside me remarked, "What a still night it is" and as both of us watched the tracer bullets rising in the air about a mile away we fell into a deep sleep.

The very first thing in the morning all of us were on our way again, walking in a long stretched out line. Looking to the left and right of us, searching every nook and cranny on the alert all the time, the company approached a long winding river with very fast flowing water. Getting closer to it we found it had a bridge over it, most of which had been blown up and lay crumbled beside the bushes.

Most of the company had stopped beside the river and were thinking how the hell to get across. The soldier beside me saw the mirror like flash the same time I did and as we saw it the both of us fell on the ground. The sound of gunfire came immediately and all hell broke loose again. All the men arriving at the river first had to their dismay run into a very well planed ambush. Everybody could hear the yelling and shouting for help but no one was in a position to give it. All the soldiers not caught up in this action began shooting at every movement out across the fast running water. Mainly at shadows, for nothing was seen. Sergeant Young, who had been a survivor of the Omaha Beachhead Landing, was one of the first victims. He lay dead just on the right of me, with his outstretched hand pointing at the water. Other than feeling sad there was no way I could help. The ruse the Germans had used was plain to see. They had regrouped after crossing the bridge and then destroyed it, knowing that we would sooner or later arrive. They had laid a well-planned ambush.

The men surviving were in deep trouble, for every man was literally pinned to the earth and could not go forward because of the river. Certainly no one could arise from his hiding place. So this left us with only one thing to do, "call for artillery fire". Many good men died this day and many more would have, if we had not called for the big guns. Then a bonus arrived out of the blue. Two Sherman tanks appeared on the scene, blasting shells across the fast flowing river. All the noise from the rifles and burp guns ceased and in their place could be heard the sound of our artillery, plus the tanks. "God Buddy," spoke an unshaved man beside me. 鈥淲e came very close to hell, what do you think." I looked at him, "Close to hell my friend, we are in hell". Everyone remained in this part of the field for quite a long while, then as all the action ceased got to his feet, to walk slowly away from the river. Medics ran past us to attend the men who were wounded. I鈥檓 sure it would have taken a long time for them to arrive at the scene.

"Come on you lot鈥�, yelled the Sergeant, 鈥渟pread out and follow me, lets follow this damn river until we find a safe place to cross." What we were searching for soon came into sight. Just around a large clump of bushes, beside a huge boulder was a rickety wooden bridge, but only part of the foundation was left. Everyone crossed over, but nearly all of us got soaking wet and I鈥檒l bet every one of us could have done with a bath. All of us gathered on the other side and waited for the Sergeant to give us orders. He pointed his finger at me, "see those woods just beyond the waters edge, well Nelson I want you and PFC Jones to scout out the vicinity of this area", he stopped and pointed, "just in front of these trees was where we were ambushed; so take extreme caution, for the Jerry鈥檚 most certainly would be somewhere close by.

Private Jones and myself then left the group, to go quite a long distance in front of the company, slowly making our way toward the tree lined horizon. He and myself were a long way in front and looking back could not see any of the men following but knew they were somewhere behind. Sometime in the afternoon we were very close to the forest and a very dark mist hung over the tall trees making it very difficult to see anything along its edge. Four or five hundred yards away, the bushy terrain appeared. The two of us approached a very large clump of evergreens, and a shot was heard. Looking to my right, my friend was spread-eagled on the ground, with his rifle still clutched to his side.

Throwing myself to the left and falling beside the bush I almost felt the bullet as it passed my head, I knew if I moved any part of my body I鈥檇 be a dead man. There was only one thing to do, "play dead." My eyes were open and I was able to see everything in front of me and about fifteen minutes later a German appeared. He walked over to PFC Stone, kicked him, then turned him over to look at his face and nudged his body to see if he was alive. He seemed quite satisfied, turned from the body and approached me. He drew his long booted leg to kick me and then he realized I was only playacting. He raised his rifle quickly up, but he was to dam slow. The German fell in a heap beside me and I had hoped this was what he had in mind, but I got in first and shot him in the upper leg. I could still see the look of disbelief as he stared at the gun pointed inches from his head. Then out of the trees three Germans ran, brandishing their weapons. I suppose they thought that the battle was over, but they all came to a halt as they saw where my gun was seen pointing. I鈥檓 sure they thought I was easy prey, but was proved wrong. Keeping my trigger finger as it was I raised my other arm, to make a slicing motion at the Jerries neck. They stopped suddenly, shouting "Nine, Nine, Nine and all the Germans dropped their weapons and as I pointed they raised their arms above their heads.

Maybe I was lucky, but my gamble paid off. I found out later Nine, meant "No". All the prisoners lay on the ground. I then removed the laces from the boots and tied each hand behind them. The conversation they had together, made me shout, "Shut your God dam mouths". I would think they did not know what I said, but they did not make a sound. All three lay on the ground as I walked over to see if my buddy was alive. "Thank God," he was still breathing but he was in a bad way, so no time could be wasted. I pointed my rifle at the prisoners and made two of them carry my friend. The other limped along behind us as we made our way back to my unit.

Everyone was surprised to see us return with POW鈥檚 arriving back from a minor scouting job, but when they saw PFC Jones a medic came hurrying along and he was taken back from the frontline. I briefed the Commander on what had taken place and how these prisoners were taken. "You have done the job I asked you to do properly and congratulations on what you have accomplished, but now if you feel like a rest, then put your feet up for a while and the company will meet you in about an hour somewhere near the trees." I had my hours rest and rejoined my unit who had searched all the area and was satisfied no one else remained in this place. We all dug in as the dusk was closing in. As we were doing this voices were heard and a group of soldiers appeared. These were to be the replacements to make up for the men who had died or wounded the day before.

I lay in my hole this night and believe me there was at least two inches of water, but I did not feel like digging another hole and I fell asleep. The morning soon came and at the crack of dawn everyone was seen crawling out of their holes dug the night before. "Now today鈥�, spoke the Sergeant, 鈥渨e will make for the trees I can see over there". He turned around to point his finger at me. "Again, Nelson I want you and PFC Jones鈥� to do a bit of scouting, so lets have the two of you now". Jones and I hurried away to the left of the company to go quite a distance in front as the large green leafed trees soon came near.

It was not a large glade, only a few trees but what there was of them were very closely packed. Jones pointed to me, indicating that he would go one way round the trees and that I should go around the other to both meet on the other side. As I was going around the greenery, about four hundred yards away there was a fluttering of noisy birds that flew out of the woods. I stopped going forward to stare at the mounds of earth piled just outside the trees and knew full well that if anyone had been hiding here I would be dead by now. Slowly I approached to look in one of the holes, the closest one to the trees and even today I cannot understand what happened here. Four bodies laying on their backs with sightless eyes were in civilian clothing, two of which were women. I left this place in deep thought and was not concentrating on my scouting. The first mortar shell landed just to the right of me, blowing a large hole in the ground. Falling over I rolled over a mound of earth and I knew the mortar crew had chosen me for their target. I also knew the second shell would be closer. Getting up I ran like hell towards the leafy trees but only got within fifty yards before being blown off my feet to fall to the ground.

Giving a sigh of relief and also thanking my lucky stars I arose to feel something wet running down my leg and knew shrapnel was in my leg. We all carried a type of bandage, so as I lay in the hole I bandaged it to stop the bleeding. The company soon arrived on the scene and the enemy mortar crew hurried left. The Captain saw no need for me to vacate my job of scouting, but he told one of the men to help me dig a hole for the night.

For the last few nights I'd had terrific nightmares and the same dream kept recurring. I was stepping over dead bodies, but all their heads were pointing at me and then I saw the face glaring and smiling at me and the face of the man was always the same, the face of the man I'd shot at the hedgerow. I was even walking in my sleep and many a time I was led back to my foxhole by one of my chums. I believe I hadn't had a really good sleep since the D-Day landing and everyday seemed to get worse.

I awoke the following morning and found that I had slept the night without having my usual dreams and felt quite refreshed, but it had been raining during the night and I was feeling very wet. It was a damp misty day as I looked to the sky I could just see the sun trying to break through the clouds below. I got up and rubbing the sleep from my eyes I joined my platoon. "Now here this", yelled a loud voice, and as we looked to where the voice came from, we saw our commanding officer standing near the Sergeant. "We have a long day's march in front of us, and I would like everyone to be on alert and keep your eyes peeled for any sign of danger". He stepped back and scowled, then carried on talking. "The engineers have tried and failed to capture the stronghold in this area and were forced to retreat. Now it is our turn to try to do what they failed to do. We have quite a journey to reach this vital spot, and the sooner we are on our way the sooner the job will be done. Thank you". Within seconds after the orders were given the company was on the move. All the men forming each platoon walked yards apart, then forward, strung out in a long wavering line and slowly going toward the enemy line. All day we walked forward and to our surprise found very little resistance. What we did occasionally see were the dead bodies of animals and a lot of them were partly eaten by other creatures.

Coming to a large field with a herd of cows grazing I thought what a brilliant idea it would be to fill up my canteen with cow's milk. I approached one of the animals with caution, but there was no need for she was very tame and stood very still as I drew near. I sat on the ground beneath her, took my canteen cup in my left hand and my right pulled at her teats. Much to my surprise and horror I got milk, but the tin cup was nearly filled with a dark green substance. These animals had not been milked for days. I stayed where I was and milked this poor beast dry. I knew it was a foolish thing to do, loitering too long in one place, but when I arose to walk away, I felt very proud of myself for who knows, maybe I saved the life of this poor animal.

There seemed to be no respite, only walking and looking for signs of the enemy. Late in the afternoon we passed through the courtyard of a thatched farmhouse. Every place seemed empty of life, but when we passed the old building I noticed the curtains were pulled apart and I had a premonition that the whole platoon was being kept under surveillance. The lead man opened the ancient gate at the end of the yard and we passed out and away from the farm. As we trudged up the slight slope that led into a dust covered road, I gazed back and was not surprised to see three children come out of the building to gaze at us. Why could they have not invited us in with open arms instead of all this secrecy? In a way it made one wonder whether the French wanted to be liberated, or was this a French family?

Then another building came into view. This one was smaller than the previous one, well kept, but entirely different. The inhabitants were at the gate shouting to us in French, "Viva Americano" and passed us drinks as we went by and this acted like a pick me up tonic to the tired men. We walked for a couple of hours before afternoon became dusk. The whole company split up and platoons dropped out one by one to dig in for the night and my platoon carried on to be the last to find refuge. The whole regiment was taking up about five miles in area, but my company, composed of four platoons was at the front of the line. All the other platoons were well dug in and we were the last to do so. There was no moon this night, only the hazy clouds drifting in the night sky, but we could make out the boundaries and see the huge hill towering upwards and we were below it.

We entered the large hedged field but found we were not alone for there was about a dozen cows sharing the area with us, but to be honest I was so damn pleased there was no bull with them. In the darkness I made out a very large tree in the middle and could see the tree leafed branches waving in the slight breeze. The orders we got did not surprise anyone, "fall out and dig in, and post sentries". Each soldier wandered off in each direction to find a suitable place to dig a foxhole. It was really dark by now, but once in a while the moon did show its face through the misty sky and brighten-up the earth.

Being so tired after the long walk we'd had I didn't think anyone realised what foolishness we were doing. The place we were digging in was a death trap, for the Germans knew we were in the field from the moment we came into it. Between the shafts of moonlight they saw us and when it was really dark they heard the digging going on below, so all they had to do was wait for daylight. I like all the rest of the platoon never gave it a passing thought, for being so dirty and tired I said to myself, "to hell with everything", so I found myself a place behind the tall hedge facing the hill, laid my rifle beside me and fell fast asleep while the others were digging their places of refuge. I have no recollection of how long I slept, but I know it was nine-o-clock the previous evening I鈥檇 fallen asleep and now it was turning daylight. What awoke me was a loud thud on the other side of the hedgerow. Before I could look over it an eighty-eight shell exploded nearby.

I had never in my young life seen a tree the size of the one standing near me disappear, but I do know pieces of bark and saw dust were floating everywhere and where it stood a large hole appeared. The enemy was using the tree as a focus target for their guns and mortars. Without question, the gunner knew his business, mortar shell and artillery shells were exploding all around our hiding places. The poor cows seemed to be floating in the air and where they once stood I could only see pools of blood. I looked up at the sky and closed my eyes as if in prayer, but in that short time flecks of animal's blood were landing on my face. I brushed my hand across my face and looked around at the destruction being caused by the Germans and thanked my lucky stars I had been to tired to dig a hole the previous night, for by now I'd probably have been a dead soldier. Very close to the hedge I crouched and prayers were in my mind, for there was nothing I could do.

Men who had taken two or three hours to dig their foxholes were being literally blown out of them. The holes, deep as they were did not prevent the shell from hitting the side of the hedge and exploding in the holes. God, whoever thought that this was a safe area to spend the night probably never had brains. As if that was not enough, motor shells landing near and burp guns joining in the slaughter and the sound of mortally wounded men screaming out in agony for help, made me want to get the hell out of this place of death. In a way I was lucky for I was well hidden behind the hedge barrier, so the enemy could not see me. I very slowly crept backwards and hugging the inside of the high hedge I luckily was not seen until I stood up to make a dash for the gated exit.

To this day I'll never know how I got away with it, for it seemed everyone of the Germans was firing at me and the nearest they got was when a lump of shrapnel tore a bit of skin from my left leg and this was just before I threw myself through the space between the fence gates. I would have stopped to fight, but how the hell can a rifle kill shadows. I, with a lot of my friends raced passed a bushy thicket and I saw a friend of mine lying on his side with a tourniquet around the top of his thigh. The flow of blood had stopped but he needed treatment for his wound. I slung my rifle over my shoulder, stooped down and picked him up but nearly dropped him because he was quite heavy. With my gun over one shoulder and him in my two arms I carried him away from the battle area. I could not help anyone else, but God knows there were plenty of others needing help that day.

I was told that my act of heroism would be reported, but the person in question died before he could report the act of bravery. I never looked for a reward in doing my duty, for I did it for a real good chum and I'm sure he would have done the same for me. Many a good man died that day and it will always be in my memory and when I hear the poem of 'Flanders', I think of what great comrades they were. We got a certain amount of revenge on the enemy for killing so many young lads in the field, for in the counter attack we outnumbered them by at least two to one.

First the artillery barrage kept on and on and while we were attacking the guns on the hill, a Lockheed lightning airplane came from nowhere to strafe the area with machine gun fire. I'll bet the Germans on this stronghold thought the whole American army was counter attacking. The shells from above were getting less and less and as we proceeded and with the mortar nests blown up, bodies were everywhere and the score took prisoners. Everyone who fought on this hill, then understood why we had lost so many of our comrades, for the hill was like a fortress with weapons of all types trained on the bottom of the hill.

The battle was not yet over for near the top of this stronghold was a huge pillar block (mortar nest) which rose like a huge smooth round cement dome from the earth. I lay behind a massive grey rock as my pal went a bit closer and what happened next came as a complete surprise. I watched, as he got closer, then he arose to run to another place of concealment, but never made it. There was a loud explosion and I swear he just disappeared. He had run over a land mine and was blown to pieces.

Chapter Eight: A Life Changing Event

The whole day from the start had been a catastrophe and now this had happened I was not only dirty, tired and hungry, but now I was also scared and in a way, began to think was this really life and why the hell was I here anyway. I got to my feet and ran towards another one of my pals. I really did not know what I was doing but unfortunately, the Germans did. I jumped over a fence with my rifle held above my head and as I jumped I felt the bullet enter my right wrist. I immediately dropped my rifle and as I fell, with blood gushing from the wound, I don't believe I've ever been in so much pain. I cried like a baby and as I lay near the fence I clutched my wrist just above the wound to stop the flow of blood.

As I arose from the dark warm earth, I could hear all my buddies and one stopped to help me. He put a makeshift bandage on my wrist and this seemed to stop the flow pouring out, just a trickle came from under the bandage, but even then this did not stop the severe pain. I learned later that the bullet had broken one of the bones running up the arm and it was not a clean break. I did not realise at the time but I was a very lucky man, for it could have hit my head. Somehow I walked to very near the rear line and was sighted by a medic who escorted me to a small surgical tent. When I sat down I thought to myself, "I've done my share in this bloody war", and God knows I was at the end of my tether. Many times to my knowledge I'd cried like a baby as I fought the Germans, not because of war wounds and God knows I had plenty, but it was mostly down to tiredness and stress. This time though it not only broke the bone but left fragments of splinters as it passed through my wrist. An army doctor checked me over and I was in so much pain, they gave me an injection and I passed out.

I have no idea how long I was asleep, but felt as groggy as hell when I finally opened my eyes and in moments I was asleep again. I remained in this camp all day long and it was very surprising to see how many wounded soldiers came through the surgical tent for treatment and the amount of bodies taken away. Bearing in mind Penicillin was used for the first time (without any trials) during World War Two, turned out to be a gamble that really paid off. It became known as the wonder drug at that time and I had quite a few injections. Later that evening with my whole arm in a cast, I was escorted with a lot of other soldiers to lorries and driven back to once again see the blue waters of the Channel, with large ships moored offshore. Although this was down the coast and nowhere near Omaha beach I was shaking with emotion, for the past had caught up with me again. I cannot remember very much of walking up the path to reach a small wharf, but as I stepped up onto it I felt a hand on my shoulder and a voice saying, "is that you Buddy?" I looked at the man who spoke, realised instantly it was a man born and bred in the town I came from and whom I had grown up with. He wore the blue of the Navy and was serving in Europe. He held my hand and chatted to me all the way across the Channel, but alas we parted at Folkestone. He waved to me as I went ashore and the ship left to return to France. I never saw this man again for he perished sometime later, but at the time I never knew this, only after my discharge, many months later. I became a passenger in the back of an army lorry.

We arrived sometime later at a huge US army hospital at a place named Malvern Hills. I was checked in with seven other wounded soldiers and as it was nearly dark we were ushered to a large room with army bunks all in a row, down to the end of the room. This was the end of the day for us seven, we were all allocated a bunk where we lay down for the night and I swear, except for one nightmare I had a well-earned sleep. My stay at Malvern army hospital was equal to staying in a first class hotel, for where I had come from and what I had been through was like Heaven from Hell. I settled in quite easily, but it wasn't such a handicap as having one arm (my right one) in a cast, it was the sleepless nights I was having. The nightmares seemed so real, and the killing never seemed to end however much they drugged me up every night, for I used to walk in my sleep. The treatment helped, and soon the dreams became less frequent, but occasionally they reoccurred. The hospital was a wonderful place and the army nurses, and doctors were real bricks. I could not shave, write a letter, and I even found it difficult to dress. But one thing I did enjoy, and that was being allowed to go into the town of Malvern.

Such a lovely place, in fact it looked so much like the town I came from with its hills and scenery that it was like the home I loved. Everything was going quite well and I had been there about one month, then I remember I had a set back. The day went very well, got up, the nurse helped me to dress and shave, had quite a peaceful day. Toward the evening saw a few casualties arriving back from the front, never thought any more of it, but when I went to bed that night, I had a reoccurrence of my past and to this day I can still remember every detail of the dream. Private Stubs and myself went through a field, and halfway across there was one mighty explosion, the field was mined, and poor Stubs had stepped on one. He was flung in the air like a rag doll, and never knew anything about it, for he died instantly. I stopped and stared in amazement, then ran like hell forward, and was lucky for I came to a hedgerow and jumped over it. Even in my nightmare I could see the German staring in amazement as I landed in front of him, and the look in his eyes as I shot him, and his screaming woke me up from this dreadful dream I was having.

This was probably the worst time I had at Malvern hospital, for I saw a psychiatrist the next day, and by talking about it, he put my mind at rest, and the dream has never come back since that day, and I hope to God it never does. Let me say again this time I spent at the hospital helped me tremendously, but at last I was found fit to go to a convalescent camp. They put me on an army truck, shook my hand, and sent me on my way to a place in Warwick, Leamington Spa, where I was to live out another part of my traumatic life.

I soon settled in to the routine of army discipline and made many a friend some with combat I had been through, and it kept me in touch with what was happening in the war zone. Again we were treated with the utmost respect by the army heads of the camps, I suppose a few of them had front line experience and knew what we had been asked to do. I met another soldier from another regiment, and we became real good chums, we went out together for the odd drink of English Bitter, visited a few local towns, and were relaxed and cheerful for the first time for a very long space of time. We were invited to a wounded soldiers get together, and this was the changing of my whole life. I was over twenty at the time and for another short time in my life everything seemed to be happening to me. First the beachhead, wounded, hospital, then rehabilitation camp, and to make it a year of bliss, from between twenty to twenty-one, I fell head over heals in love, with the most beautiful girl in the world.

There was a slight hitch however, she was London bred, and I was an American. We met at the Spa Hotel in Leamington Spa, and the Governess at the hotel introduced us to each other, and so began a match that was never broken. I went to London, where I met her widowed mother, and she also accepted me in the family. While in London two or three Doodle Bugs (flying bombs) were dropped by the Germans, one I was told later, went down a bomb shelter killing all within. Joyce, and myself had some wonderful times while I was in the camp, we met almost every evening after she left work, and went out together to different places. Then at long last I proposed to her, and to my delight she accepted.

Now I must admit that not all Yanks were as honest as myself, and I'm not making out I'm a saint for I meant every word I said to her, but I had, and have known of Yanks who were already married, had oil wells etc. Joyce knew though, to put it bluntly I had not a pot to pea in, so we accepted each other, as we were, a city girl and a country bumpkin. We then had other things to talk over, for although I had asked her to marry me, I had to get the army's consent. This was carried out by the Chaplain who interviewed my wife to be and myself together. The subject turned to the fact that she was English, and of course I was from the country and its purpose was to find out whether we were suited for each other.

For about an hour we both sat before him, but in the end we both got his blessings. To be engaged, there was one snag however, as I was only twenty years old, I had to get my parents permission, but as I only had about two months to go before I was twenty-one we decided on our marriage being after January 27th 1945. It seemed to be the old routine every day, me in the army, still being on full alert, to be sent anytime back to the war zone, and seeing Joyce only after she had finished work. Everyday I looked forward to sharing my time with her, and so our love became stronger each day. Occasionally the past returned, but as time went on my mind turned to other things, this I suppose was due to my future wife's ability to make one forget, and to start living again. But as usual things changed, for then two things happened, the papers from the army's archives got lost or mislaid for the consent of my marriage, and I was being transferred to Sutton Coldfield, near Birmingham. I immediately reapplied to the Chaplain for consent to be reaffirmed, but in the meantime was sent to join a postal unit at my new camp.

It seemed that now I was totally fit I was capable of doing a job of work, so back to full army training I went, which meant no more lying about any more, kicking up my heels. This did not mean however that I abandoned my girlfriend, because every day off I went to Birmingham by number two train, and onto Warwick by train to meet her, so the further apart we went, the nearer became our love. Many a charge I was put on because I was late for roll call, but I just didn't care. Then out of the blue came good news, my papers were found, and the army after looking into our backgrounds gave their consent so we could get married. I often wonder what my life would have been like if they had not found my papers. I can only let the reader know that none of this tale would have been put in black and white.

I went to a cinema (theatre) and saw Charlie Chaplin in the Gold Rush, but it wasn't the film so much, it was what happened that makes one wonder. The man sitting beside me, whom I had never seen before, started to moan with pain, and, as it was a funny film was comical. He had his hand gently away from his face, and to my amazement his whole hands were covered with small and large warts, mostly inflamed. I asked him his name and he replied, "Staff Sergeant Carter ", and I felt so sorry for him, for he was in pain. I took his hands into mine, and to this day I do not know why I did it, but I took a copper cent and rubbed it all over his hands. I asked him to pray that the warts disappear, and funny as it seemed the coin I was holding got very cold, so without any thoughts I tossed the coin down amongst our feet. The show ended, and on my honour two weeks later I again met this man and low and behold, he showed me his hands and there was not a sign of warts. I had never met this man before and if he reads this, he could and would vouch that everything I said was true, can anyone explain why he lost all these warts, because I cannot. I cannot see how this can have any bearing on my good fortune in getting the Army鈥檚 consent for my marriage maybe I was rewarded for my kindness. This was the last time I met Sergeant Carter, for he also was sent to another unit.

Time seemed to have flown by, and in no time it seemed my twenty-first birthday came, and both Joyce and myself agreed that February 25th 1945 would be a good time to get married. We could not make it any sooner anyway, for by law to be married in a church, you had to give twenty-one days notice, in case someone could contest the actual ceremony. On the day I asked a friend of mine in the unit to be my best man, his name was Private Musolf and together we got leave to travel by train from Birmingham to East Dulwich, London. Joyce stopped with her mother, while my best man and myself went to a place called Forest Hill to stop the night with her sister Mable and husband Chester Reed.

This was in fact the first time I had met her family and they were two wonderful people. We were always on the alert for this was still wartime, and there were war raid sirens in operation. The day before the marriage we had a look at some of the bombing London went through, houses blown apart sometimes whole estates gone, and remembering at the time "why civilians". Then the big day arrived, all of my wife鈥檚 family were sitting on the pews in the large old church and my best man and myself were standing just in front of the preacher. Waiting for the organ to play "here comes the bride". The music at last started and my lovely wife to be walked down the aisle to stand by my side and even today I still think she was the most beautiful woman in the world. The ceremony went as planned and when we both said our vows. I put the ring on her finger and gave her a loving kiss for we were now married, for better or worse. We had no time for a party, for this was still wartime. Then all our photos were taken and all of Joyce鈥檚 family congratulated the two of us. My wife and myself went on a two nights honeymoon in the city of Birmingham (for my wife was working in Leamington Spa). We were both expected to report back as soon as possible, but not before we had the two nights together. What, a two night's honeymoon it turned out to be. Doors slamming all night outside the room and someone yelling at the top of their voice.

I'm sure if we had not had a chair against the door, someone would have come in. Oh well, so much for a wartime marriage. Joyce then went back to her secretarial work about thirty miles away from me and I again rejoined my army unit to go back to being an American soldier. I was married for the record on February 25th 1945, and then within three weeks went for an interview with my commanding officer. This was quite an informal affair, no regimental discipline, just a test of my ability as a soldier, and an army doctor was also in the same room. I was given many tests and at the end of it all, I was pronounced not active enough in my right hand to handle a heavy rifle, but instead I was given a carbine because of its lesser weight. The officer allowed me to take this weapon because this had become part of my kit since being conscripted. This became quite a shock to me for physically in all other ways I was passed fit, but owing to the gunshot wound in my right wrist, it had left me with three dead fingers and the stress of the landing also was taken into account. This left the army with two options I suppose, one to send me home or put me for the rest of the war in a non-fighting regiment. As I did not want to leave the army, they put me into a postal unit, where at least my skill as a front line soldier came in use if needed and who knows maybe it would help protect the soldiers from doing their duties. Three or four weeks went by and all was going well. I went to see my wife every weekend and the more we saw each other the closer we became, for the two of us were really in love, but this was about to cease.

One morning when I arose for duty I was asked to see the officer in charge. "Corporal Nelson", he said as I stood to attention. 鈥淚鈥檓 afraid I have bad news for you, the army requires our services quite a distance away from England and realizing you have not been married very long I thought it would be just as well if I informed you personally as this would give you time to tell your new bride the bad news鈥�. I thanked him for this and turned to leave the office. "Oh and by the way Corporal I know I should not be saying this but you were selected as a soldier of combat service to help us get settled in another foreign country" and I left the office.

When I asked my lovely young English woman to marry me, I had no idea I was to be sent away so soon after we wed. Especially as I knew she was carrying my child. I had no say in the matter, as I was a soldier in the American Army and had to do as ordered, but even though I did as commanded I still thought it to be unjust. I had made and survived the D-Day landing on Omaha Beach and had been in bloody battles for twenty-eight days, before being wounded and now it seemed for the record I was to be shipped to another war zone but God knows exactly where. I had no option but to phone my wife and tell her the bad news, that officially I was to be leaving England the following day to an unknown destination.

She was still crying as I told her I loved her very much and in spirit she'd always be with me and I promised I would send a letter as soon as I reached my destination. As I replaced the phone I began to realize how Joyce felt, for not only would we miss each other, but also she would be carrying our child, without us both together. I lay on my bunk that night, staring at the ceiling of the mission hut and watched a small spider spinning a web and thought to myself, "Maybe this little creature was a sign of good luck and everything would turn out okay.

Chapter Nine: Through the Panama Canal

This night turned out to be one of the longest up to now, for I was always tossing and turning and as the early dawn light shone through the window, a voice was shouting in my ear, "rise and shine you dough boy", and looking up with my half shut eyes I saw the Sergeant pointing towards the wash room. In a gruff voice he said, 鈥淎fter everyone has finished in the latrene, get yourselves ready for transport. It will arrive after breakfast and we will be on our way". After all this we still did not know where we were going. Pity he hadn't told us, for if he had, I just might have gone absent without leave (a.w.o.l) and stopped with my wife, but I lined up to climb aboard the lorries. About one hundred of us in all, drove nearly all day and at long last arrived at a port just as twilight darkened the sky. The closing in of darkness made it nearly impossible to name the port the lorries drove into, but we all knew it had to be somewhere on the English channel. Climbing down from our transport we lined up to walk up a long narrow gangplank and onto the deck of a large craft, where I could just make out the word ferry, but owing to the light I could not read anything else. (I was told later it was the Dover ferry).

Nearly an hour later all the men had boarded and we were standing and sitting where we could find room, when a very loud voice shouted, "Everyone will stand where they are and a roll call will be conducted by the Sergeant". The Sergeant took out a piece of paper and started to call out names. When he was satisfied that all were present he put away the paper and said, "Everyone can take it easy for now, but be ready to vacate the ship when we reach the other side". The big yellow moon was high in the sky as we slowly crept into the harbour to stop at the dock and the gangplank was lowered to the land of France. As I went down and stepped onto the earth it felt like a dream, for visions of blood and death were in my brain and it took quite a few seconds to realise it was in the past. Where we landed I'll never know, but there were lorries waiting just outside and each man was directed to one to climb aboard. I can recall, the driver of my canvas topped vehicle, for he was grinning and shook his arm at me "shake a leg and climb aboard" he said. I could just make out his features, as his face was as black as the night.

As all the lorries were filled with men, they formed a convoy and drove away, each vehicle five lengths apart and not going over thirty miles an hour. Nearly every soldier in cramped sitting positions either fell asleep or dozed. There seemed to be noises of snoring coming from each truck and this went on till our transport arrived at the gates of the capital of France, the city of Paris. I was sitting at the rear of the lorry, thus I was able to see the area we went through and was really surprised to see parts we went past having no damage at all. No signs of bombing, artillery or fighting anywhere. I cannot say where my infantry division went after I was wounded, but one thing I do know, it would be very unlikely to leave a place as large as this city without any scars of war.

The transport crawled to a halt just outside a huge building and one by one each soldier climbed out of his vehicle, to make his way to the large door, half open in front and standing beside it was a military policeman, looking very alert. Only three lorries remained at this dropping off point, for the others had to join another unit, somewhere in Europe, very likely back to active service as I was told later. As we all joined each other inside we were told that this was to be our billet for the night. We were to sleep, shave and get our kit sorted out for early tomorrow a train would take us to the port. To find my room for the night I had to climb a staircase with a dirty old carpet on its steps and onto a wooden landing. A door was slightly open on my right, so I pushed it open and walked inside. I know the country was still at war, but the place was in a shambles and looked like it hadn't been cleaned for weeks. I felt it would be better going outside to dig a large hole to sleep in for the night and believe me I'd slept in a few before leaving this country.

Before I retired for the night I strolled down the street just outside and I reckon there was a prostitute on every corner I came to. I was still amazed at seeing no damage and everywhere the men went we all had the uncomfortable feeling that somehow we were not wanted over here. Once in a while I saw the white helmet of the military police, walking and flicking their truncheons and thought to myself, "God I wished I'd joined their unit, to stay put and not keep on travelling from pillar to post". The men were very close to the train station so the following morning we all congregated beside the coaches and one by one took a seat on the train. As the engine pulled out of the station I could see a lot more of the city and to me it was as if I was riding away from good old New York, everything was standing. Under bridges and through towns we went and although the train was very slow we were getting closer to the port the men would depart from. Then the large sign arose beside the track and the train slowly came to a halt, as I saw in huge letters, 'Marseille'. All of the soldiers got off the train and stood in a group. As I looked I was surprised to see that even this city had hardly any damage done to it, what the hell was going on in these two cities, or was I dreaming again? We all had the chance of doing a bit of exploring. My chum and I walked up one street and down another and many a person raised their arms to shout, "viva la Americano". I did think that this city was far friendlier than Paris. Maybe it was because I was able to see more of Marseille, than gay Pari, but there was still a war to be fought, so I had to hurry back to my unit where we all headed to the docks where a large ship awaited us.

It had no name or at least I could not see one, but we were told it used to carry rail engines during peacetime. It did have a very prominent (one fifty-five artillery gun) on the stern, so it was prepared for action. It had sleeping quarters above, but in the hold there were canvas-topped lorries, with a load of other material, but on the whole it seemed quite a sturdy craft. I was not asked to be a volunteer, but my Captain wanted someone to help manage the gun and guess who the muggings turned out to be? Yours truly. The excuse was that I had had combat duty and this would keep me on my toes. I did at the time feel like putting two fingers up. Then realised they were right for I did know a little about these weapons. I did not volunteer but knew if I took this responsible job, maybe this would keep me away from doing KP (kitchen police) so I accepted.

We were all told to gather around the commanding officer and as we stood at ease he looked at us and said in a very loud and scratchy voice, "Now this is going to be a long and sometimes unpleasant trip". He stopped speaking to look in my direction and resumed speaking. "It will at times be unbearable, as a lot of you will be sea sick and wish to God you was on ground again, but I cannot transport the men in any other way". The man next to me leaned over to whisper in my ear, "so it's the other part of the World, but where"? I cannot tell you too much at this time, he said, but the route we will travel will be through the Panama Canal and into the Pacific". He then walked away and as he did so I could hear the transport ship engine and we went away from the berth and were on our way.

From day one there was plenty on board to do and although time seemed to go slowly at first, in no time at all it sped by. I joined the ships gun crew and got to know all their names and became quite adept at doing the drill, and I believe we became grade one in our dry runs. The Captain was dead to rights, when he told the soldiers about sea sickness, I'll bet nearly everyone on board threw up over the rails at least a dozen times (good job it wasn't on deck, otherwise some one could have skidded over board). Three days out from France I had violent pains in my kidney area. It was not too bad so I ignored it, believing it may be just a slight strain. The day after, it seemed to get worse. I was nearly doubled up with shooting pains, so I hobbled up to sickbay. The medic in charge of the sick room told me off severely for not reporting this earlier, so I was ordered to bed. What was causing the pain no one knew but land came into sight and the ship anchored off Panama. While the ship lay in the harbour, to wait its turn to go through the canal, I was taken to the hospital in Panama City for an examination. To my delight they could find nothing serious, but I was told to report at once if the pain returned and I was very quickly taken back to re-board the ship, just in time as it happened for the troop ship was ready to enter the canal.

Today I felt very privileged to have gone down this long winding river and to have seen the jungles on each side with the crocodiles resting on the bank, waiting for any garbage thrown in from the ships passing along the water. Then we were in the Pacific Ocean and gliding over the very calm seawaters. We really hadn't got half way to our goal and everyone was fed up with literally seeing water, water everywhere. Twice a day, morning and night every soldier on the ship had an exercise period, jumping up and down for twenty minutes and sometimes for an hour.

I spent most of my time, chatting with the gun crew and doing the odd dry run (practice session). Different games had to be thought of to keep ourselves alert and active and one of the most popular, was to blind fold two men and put them in a boxing ring, with boxing gloves on and see the crazy antics. Of course we had the odd bet on the one still standing after twenty minutes. The spectacle had to cease for it almost turned into a tragedy. One of the onlookers standing outside the ring was smashed in the face, fell backwards, tripped over a mooring, tried to grab the boat rails, missed and fell over the side of the ship into the Pacific Ocean. It surely must have been his lucky day, for as soon as he fell over the rails, shouts of "man over board", was yelled and the ship gradually came to a halt, but he had to swim a short distance before being hauled aboard, a very lucky soldier indeed.

Porpoises were always following the ship or gliding up and down on the stern and port side. I saw these creatures so often we could even give them names. Another spectacle seen was flying fish, not actually flying, but gliding above the waves. Many a morning the small six-inch fish were found on the deck and had to be thrown back into the water because they could be dangerous to step on. This is why we called them 'slippers'. Everyday, day in and day out, there was nothing but water, but at last despair turned to hope for out of the gloom seagulls were seen and we knew land was somewhere close by. A short time later a voice shouted, "Land Aho", and the ship glided to a halt and we were told this island and the other islands seen in the distance was called 'the Solomon Islands'. They were a beautiful sight, but any land would have been a bonus. In my army life I had never seen many desolate places in my travels. I had never seen a place so void of vegetation as we set foot on this particular island. I will admit though it did have its share of coconut palms and some of its neighbours had small jungles on them, but as for any form of life I never saw any, not even a Cannibal.

There was, however, loads of palm trees. As for any form of life I never saw any. A very large building was erected under the palms and it reminded me of an army barrack. This particular island was used as a supply base and many a large ship was moored beside ours awaiting fresh supplies. Two of my chums and myself were one of the first off the ship and as I trudged along a footpath, I sat down to take my shoes off and I felt the earth under my feet. It had been such a long time since I'd felt the ground, I felt like a little boy again. I think everyone's morale was high. We had been nearly two weeks on the sea and this had been well worth waiting for. Everyone then proceeded to take their shoes off as well and we actually ran up the beach to the wooden building and although none had any money, we were offered a cold drink. Even today I don't know what it was, but I do know it was the best damn drink I'd ever had. This memory will last me forever, but things were about to change for we were told to report back to our vessel and as we gathered in the large room the figure of our commanding officer stood before a large map.

With a long cane in his hand, he pointed it at the map and said, "you are at this spot鈥�, and the tip of the cane pointed at the islands, 鈥渂ut look at the distance we still have to go". He pointed the stick at another island and a gasp was heard from all of us. "Yes鈥�, spoke the officer, 鈥測ou now know our destination and provided the enemy has been defeated we will set up base camp in the vicinity of Japan, on the island of Okinawa". He looked around the room and again said, "If any other information comes to me then you will all be informed".

Chapter Ten: The Journey to Okinawa and the Flash

On board the ship, the night was warm and humid. Everything was so quiet, one could almost hear a pin drop. Then came the sound of the rusty old Anchor and at the same time the mighty engines in the hold were heard. I hurried up onto the deck and saw the shore lights glimmer and gradually disappear, as the ship went away from the island. The last I saw of this place a huge ship moored beside us gradually vanished from view. Day after day went by and believe me life aboard this craft got so damn boring, same routine everyday and nothing ever changed. Occasionally the men were happy but the morale of the majority of the soldiers was very low. It was the lack of activity and this brought back long forgotten memories and sometimes my spirits were so low. I would make some type of excuse and go below deck, find a quite refuge and have a little cry. Whenever this happened I always joined the men with a smile and put on the brave face. After all I was supposed to be a very hard young man and I expect they all believed it.

There was one such moment when I had a real bad headache and I felt very low in spirit as I sat down, my thoughts were of the past. I sat back and closed my eyes, to relieve the pain and thought of the day so long ago, of how I had earned my promotion. A short time after D-Day, Paul and myself were out in front of our platoon, scouting and leading about six hundred yards in the lead but twenty yards apart, always on the alert and ready for instant action. Everything was going to plan as we approached a large field with the usual hedgerow. I took a long stride, looked to my right and as I did so there was a loud explosion and I saw my friend fly up into the air. I slung myself to the ground as Paul screamed then there was silence. Without a doubt I knew what had happened, he had stepped onto a Land Mine. I crawled closer and closer to him and saw him move, but I'm sure he was unaware of this for his left foot had been blown off.

The platoons behind had all thrown themselves to the ground and were shooting at the opposite hedge and as this was going on I was able to get close enough to Paul, took hold of him and laid him on the ground. He was in a serious condition and his blood was everywhere. I had to stop it flowing out of his body, but had nothing to make a tourniquet with. Then I noticed Paul鈥檚 shoe was close by and I was able to take the lace from it and clumsily I wrapped it around a pressure point on his leg. This partially stopped the flow of blood, but I knew he needed help urgently. Without thinking about myself, I leaned over and hoisted him onto my shoulders (good job he was lighter than me) and he passed out as I stood up and walked back the way I'd come. God knows why no one killed me I'll never know. Maybe they were waiting for me to step on another mine but He sure was with us on this day. Somehow I did reach the medics and they carried poor Paul away and although I was promoted to Corporal, I'd still have preferred my friends company to the extra stripe. As for my actions, was it stupidity or fate? I'll leave this question to the reader. This again was one of the incidents I wanted to forget, but no one can walk through hell and forget about it.

Then I started to daydream again and was awakened from this dream by someone shaking me. "You ok, Buddy" someone said. "Yes thank you, I was only dreaming", I replied. Somehow I'd have to try and leave the past behind me, for I was on a ship and God knows what the end would be. I had to find something to do, so I took what little bit of money I had and played a card game called Black Jack. It's not surprising I was broke in a half hour, but I did feel a lot better, for it made me think of something else. Up to the time I was drafted into the USA Army I could most always tell when asked "what day, or time" it was, but when in combat a soldier does not count the days, let alone what the time is, for more often than not he is fighting for his life. Time has no meaning, only daylight and night, he is always thinking "will I be here tomorrow鈥�?

This was one time I felt comparatively safe during the war, for I had heard the Americans had air superiority and the Japanese Navy was virtually nil, so this only left the forces of nature and of course the odd mistake. On the exact day I cannot say, only it was about mid afternoon, for the bright old sun was just above our heads. A lot of the men, those looking to the northwest shielded their eyes, for a giant flash lit up the horizon. We all believed this flash to be a thunderstorm, for a slight rumble was heard shortly after, we knew this to be a long way off, so took no notice. The officer spoke to us the following day and as he spoke we all knew it must be good because he was smiling as he spoke. "Today I must inform you the Japanese have finally given up, for they have at last conceded defeat, so now the war is over". He started to walk away, turned and said, "Although I've told you this news, I would still advise extreme caution".

The following day turned out to be a nightmare for me. I awoke from a restless sleep with such a pain in my kidneys I surely thought I was dying. I got out of my bunk, screaming in agony and if one of the soldiers had not come to my aid I'm sure I would have passed out. He asked me where the pain was and I pointed toward my back. He and two others gently led me to the latrene, for I felt an urgent need to pass water. I urinated okay, but only blood seemed to be passing from my body and I was being sick at the same time. In the meantime on deck, land had been sighted and the sea gulls were there to greet us. Escorting us to a small port, part of the island of Okinawa.

I had been in severe pain for almost two days and did not realise that the ship had reached its berthing place and only realised it when I was placed on a stretcher, to be taken to the base hospital. I was carried off by two medics and as they carried me into a canvas topped tent, I can even today, see their facial masks, but then I remember nothing, until I awoke some time later. The doctor, an officer in the medics department stood above me with another man. He stroked my brow and said, "In a way Corporal you are a very lucky man, I know the agony this pain has caused, but I'm sure you'll feel much better now". He looked across at the other man, again felt my brow and said, "There is nothing we can do as you have already passed through your system the foreign matter, commonly known as gravel. This may recur at any time and at this time the only way to prevent this reoccurring is to drink, drink, drink".

The doctor was right when he told me, "Now you鈥檒l feel better", for all the pain had gone, only the soreness in my kidneys remained, but this I could cope with, so I was sent back to my unit. I realised as I walked through the gates of this tented hospital I certainly was a lucky man, for if the war with the Japanese had not ended, there would be no hospital, and as for a postal unit, there would be nowhere to set it up. I was able to walk, but ever so slowly to my waiting transport but about ten miles outside the canvas town, the driver had to pull up beside the road as the darkness closed in. This was mainly because there was no such thing as streetlights and there still was the chance of an enemy attack. This may sound daft, but there was many a Japanese who would never give up and to kill an American was like going on a ticket to Heaven, but anyway it became quite dark as the two of us settled down for the night.

I cannot say I had a wonderful sleep, for I had either to sit up with my back against a tree, or lie on my tummy. No matter how my posture was I still felt as sore as hell. The driver and myself were well armed, he carried a pistol and my weapon was a short rifle, called a carbine, but neither of us expected to use them. We both agreed that one of us at a time would take sentry duty, two hours on and two hours off and he took the first shift. I was awake two hours later and I got to my feet and looked up at the sky. It was cloudy, but a giant yellow moon every so often shone, as a gap between the clouds appeared. When this happened the earth was bathed in light and shadows.

One hour into my shift I noticed two of the dark patches had turned into men and they seemed to be creeping toward our lorry. I gently shook my partners shoulder and as he awoke, I put one finger in my mouth to caution him to be quiet. The boulder that we sat beside was only a short distance from the motor. We had chosen this area because the driver thought we would be in a vulnerable situation if someone wanted to do us harm, and as it happened he was right. Every time the moon hid itself behind a cloud the men went forward, then did not move when it lit up the ground. We knew this was happening for we were watching every move the two shadowy men made. Up to now we were more intent in watching what they intended doing, but when one of the shadows lit a match, just beside the lorry, we were up and ready for action.

The moon lit up the scene and there he was igniting a touch and had just thrown his arm overhead to throw it, when we both fired at the same time. Not to kill, but to maim. We saw the figure drop the torch, falling to the earth at the same time. We had however, made a small error, for we had both shot at the same man and in doing so saw the second man run off into the night. Being very careful we went to the fallen body and sure enough it was a man in a Japanese uniform. In a way we two soldiers felt sorrow at this man鈥檚 death, but we knew that without transport our position would most probably have meant committing suicide. This proved one thing to us, never believe everything one hears, for was the war really over. Well, we'd have to be on guard till we were certain. The huge bright sun arose on the distant horizon and it was time to be on our way to a far away destination. I sat back in the wide brown seat, stretched my legs forward, leaned back to close my eyes and knew that the driver was taking us to our destination, my unit.

God only knew where it was, but I could not expect it to be a wonderful hotel and I could retire at night in comfort, but did honestly hope it was a place of safety. The driver and myself did not speak for a very long time, for we felt so damn sorry and a little bit guilty of killing the Japanese that evening and the burial service we gave. Ordinarily this would not have happened, but the two of us thought it only fit and proper. So I gave a prayer as we laid him to rest, but even though he was an enemy, I'm sure the two of us walked away from his resting place with tears in our eyes.

I do believe if I had known how cruel the Japanese men were to our troops, then I'm sure that I would have felt no sorrow at committing this act. The feeling of guilt however, passed away and the scenery we observed was very plain, but still foreign to the eye. Long glades of trees, mostly bamboo trees and the odd ones we had never seen before. Here and there usually around the small towns and sometimes in unusual places I saw bomb craters and even where artillery fire had struck leaving small and sometimes huge craters in the ground. The morning soon went into afternoon and I always saw the great Pacific Ocean, either to my left or right, depending on the route we travelled, but we were following the coast. Then at long last we stopped on the very top of a high hill to have a breather (rest) and enjoy the 'C' rations for our dinner and to wash it down with a drink from the canteen. Before we started on our way the driver tapped on my shoulder and pointed to something in the distance. Following his pointed finger I saw in the distance a long way off a very large building and my friend said, "There is your destination we are heading for and it is a disguised sea plane hanger". He then pointed out along the coast and said, "That small island you see, just off the hanger is called Si Soce and the larger one further away is Iwo Jima", and I could see as he pointed these lands out, how close the larger of the two was to where I was to work.

We were able to see the long road we had rested on, go down to the bottom and disappear, before emerging again some way beyond and finally could not see it, owing to the hills and other obstacles. This rest gave the two of us immense pleasure and as we went along our journey, I could not help but wonder why hardly any of the population were not seen. Time went by and the sun was well in the sky before just around a sharp bend there lay one of the prettiest buildings I'd seen in a long time. A pagoda of such beauty it took one's breath away. The eves of the roof were shaped like a woman's hair, upturned and all around the square roof. It looked so peaceful, but also very foreign. Our vehicle passed this pagoda and I could not help but look back as we travelled a short distance and to my utter surprise I saw at least twelve Japanese hiding behind obstacles and brandishing their fists at us. As we approached another bend in the road, as if by magic a stout man dressed in a black robe with headgear appeared on the road. I saw him raise his arms forming a figure V and all the other hidden men came out to stand behind him. He then raised his arms to shout, but we had turned the corner of the road, so I could not hear his voice. I really do believe if we had stopped to admire his pagoda, our chance of reaching our destination would have been nil. The large bright sun was very near the horizon, but would not set for a couple of hours and the driver told me to close my eyes and take a nap, for we still had a distance to go and I did as he suggested. I had no sooner closed my eyes and was dreaming. I'd had nightmares before, but this dream I'll always remember, for it was so vivid. A large bird came from above, swooped down and grabbed me in his talons as I looked up, it wasn't a bird at all, it was a human being with wings and it carried me over a giant stretch of water. I recall I tried to get away from the creature carrying me, but all at once he opened his claws and I plummeted down and down, but I was screaming and somebody was shaking me and I awoke to see the drivers face and thank God I was with the living again.

I related this nightmare to my friend and his only remark was, "Well done buddy". Most of the dreams I've had, had some type of meaning to them, but this one I never could explain. The vehicle had stopped just opposite Si Soce and thus I knew we had but a few more miles to travel and over one hill and on a straight road the lorry drew into a place outside the hanger and stopped. I was in my unit again. Not long after we arrived a group of my soldier friends led me to the house beside the postal hanger, told me to take a bunk and they would tell me more in the morning, when I had reported to the officer in charge.

I knew the moment I laid on my bunk that I was amongst my friends and as I closed my eyes I also knew I would have a very peaceful sleep. It seemed that only seconds had passed before I awoke to find everyone in the room had disappeared. So I hastily got dressed and was just about to leave when I noticed three chameleons (lizards) crawling on the rafters just above the door. I had heard about these creatures before and heard they could change colours and blend into the scenery. This was exactly what they did, for as I opened the door to go out they had disappeared.

Outside I soon found a soldier and he pointed out where to find the officer in charge. I was to go around the building, entering the first door. It was a fairly large building and the door I had emerged from was facing inland. Going around sleeping quarters I stopped to stare. The large hanger appeared before me, but it was not the large wooden building that made me stop, it was the beauty of the huge Pacific Ocean spreading out before my eyes. Being such a sunny morning I also saw the long brown road disappearing in the distance winding like a snake. I raised my eyes from the sea to see two islands appear, these were the two we had seen the previous night. Si Soce and Iwo Jima. These two pieces of land nestling in the Pacific looked exactly like a vision of paradise, but I learned later it was more like a part of Hell.

The house that the commanding officer lived in was small and very much like a pagoda, similar to one that I had seen before and the door stood ajar. I could see a man sitting at a desk and before I knocked he beckoned me in. I hastily walked in and stood at attention, saluting as I did so. The Captain returned my salute and said, "At ease Corporal, I had the men leave you to have a nice lie in, as I thought you may need it". He looked down at a paper on his desk and spoke again, "Be at ease soldier and take heed of what I say. I have notes of the deeds you performed in Europe and this is one reason why you were picked for this unit. The postal section was set up in your sickness and is now ready to collect and deliver". He paused again and resumed. "The war now is officially over with Japan, but we must still be on our guard, therefore I have asked the Sergeant to work collectively with you, for I still believe we should have a security system at all times, now do you accept the post as head of security Corporal?" "Yes sir I replied", saluting as I left his room.

The Sergeant and myself got on very well. Maybe it was because he had been in the military police and I had been in combat, so between us we set up a rota for sentry duty and guard duty twenty-four hours a day. A few days later and after a little paper work the security had been sorted. This left everyone working at the postal unit feeling safe as they went about their tasks. This did not prevent my past battles appearing so I kept doing a bit of mail sorting. There also seemed times when I could lay about, close my eyes and think of my loved one I had left in England and the baby she was carrying. It seemed like years since I had left and God knows how long it would be before we met again.

During one of my idle moments in the postal hanger, I picked up a letter and by chance read the address, to my amazement it was to my hometown in the States. I then noted the return and it was from a regiment not many miles from the postal unit. The soldier residing here was a very close friend of mine, someone who I had grown up with. Twice this had happened in my travels, once in Europe when I got wounded and now in Okinawa. I found the postal Sergeant, told him what I had found and asked him to cover for me. Without hesitation he told me, "Take all the time you need Buddy".

I was not sure about the location of the platoon, but had a pretty good idea. There was a regiment located a few miles inland almost opposite Iwo Jima. We had received a few letters from this area and this was the location I had to get too. The problem I had, took a bit of thinking out, for I had no transport. No way would I be able to walk and this meant I had to find something with four wheels on it. As I did not have a Jeep, I would just have to pinch one (or borrow). The finding of a jeep was quite easy, for there was one just across the road and it even had a key in the ignition. It was like pinching candy from a baby, I got in and drove off.

On and on I went, passing a small village occasionally without seeing anyone, but with the feeling someone from the villages was watching as I went through it. The morning had passed quickly and soon it was midday. To my left I saw a group of men, all sitting down and looking damn tired, in fact they all looked as if the whole lot had just fought a bloody battle. I asked a soldier sitting down if he would direct me to a certain regiment and to my surprise he told me it was the one I had entered. I asked him, if he knew of a man in his platoon called Albert Richard and without hesitation he pointed to a man sitting with his back to a tree. Making my way around the sitting men I walked to and stood in front of the tree the man had pointed to. The soldier I gazed at was my friend and he appeared to be sleeping, for the iron helmet he wore lay against the tree and his eyes were shut. As I looked down at Albert I understood the tiredness and stress he had been going through, for I also had went walking in Hell and knew too well how he felt. He had not shaved for about two weeks and looked as if he had just fallen out of a garbage bin. I awoke him as I touched his shoulder. He opened his eyes and I saw the agony, with stress and even fear as he stared sleepily up at me.

He spoke quietly almost in a whisper, "Buddy is this really you or am I dreaming again". My friend took his helmet off, sat up straight and beckoned me to sit beside him. I did so and he grasped my hand ever so forcefully, and said, "How did you find me and what the hell are you doing in this God forbidden place?" It's a long story my friend, but to begin with I found the return address on an envelope, addressed to your family in Camden, USA and had to look for you. Private Richards closed his eyes, to retort, "Buddy, we both parted long ago, you taking one road, with me taking the other, so I never thought I would see your face again". He opened his eyes to continue, "I dare say we both have walked this road to hell, only yours was in another part of the World, but at least we were able to walk out again, with God's help". I stayed with my friend most of the day and learned many things about the Japanese I never knew before. I also found out that they were gooks, a nickname for these islanders who are wicked cruel animals and not humans.

He told me how the gooks treated prisoners of war and he also related to some of the battles he had fought in. At the end I felt extremely glad I had ended up in Europe fighting the Germans instead of the Japanese. The old sun began to get near the horizon and we parted, but before doing so, Albert informed me that his regiment had just occupied Iwo Jima and talked me through many battles. "I would say to you my friend, if you had the chance and transport, visit Iwo Jima and see the battle damaged terrain. With imagination you also will understand the bloodshed of what it took to take this piece of land". I shook his hand and we parted company, waving to him I got in my transport and drove off thinking to myself, "At least I've met two Americans and with any luck we would be meeting again鈥�. The sun gradually went over the horizon and twilight bathed the earth. I had made it back to my unit just before the huge moon sent its yellow rays to bathe the earth. I parked the borrowed jeep exactly where I had found it and felt I had achieved something special this day. I had found my school chum and was able to talk about old times. I knew my next visit would be to the Sergeant, without haste I knocked on his door. We talked for quite a long spell and I was able to relate to him parts of the island he had not seen and the finding of my close friend. He got to his feet and opening the door said, "Good night Corporal, see you in the morning". Laying in my bunk that night I thought of the day鈥檚 events and before I got through half the events of the day I'd fallen asleep and I believe it was the best sleep since I had made D-Day. The following morning bright and early I checked that everything had gone smoothly and no complaints were made and having been told that everything was hunky doory (okay), I wandered down to the beach and soon was joined by another private first class, named John. It was such a wonderful day the Pacific-Ocean was as calm as a millpond not a ripple appeared on the surface. There was only the white foamy surf as it reached the beach line.

Laying on the white sands it became paradise itself. Nothing to do but rest, but we soon got tired of rest. I left John and casually walked down to the sea edge to gaze at a huge rock, with part of it leaning out and over the Ocean. "Yes" I thought". Why not "and I took my clothes off, just leaving my briefs, walked to the boulder, climbed to the top and without looking at the placid sea jumped in. "God, this must be like Heaven", I said to myself as I swam a little bit from the rock. Then looking to where John was I crawled out on the rock and I was just about to yell at him to join me, when I peered down at the salt water. Just below me I reckon I saw the largest giant squid in the Pacific, he was gigantic. I was close enough to see the bumps of his eyes and I did not yell out for my friend to join me, but very quickly joined him instead.

Chapter Eleven: Day Trip to Si Soce and Iwo Jima

Looking out to sea I was able to see the two islands, one slightly larger than the other. They looked so close, one felt as though you could reach out and touch the sands. This was because of the heat, for the two of them were a distance away from us, at least a mile. It was then I remembered what my friend had said, "If possible you must see Iwo Jima, and see some of the remains of the taking of this stronghold". As this was my day off, being Sunday, John and I sat down to focus how it could be accomplished. There turned out to be one conclusion, by boat, but where the dickens could we find a craft suitable for this mission? We watched as a gull settled on the sea and I think we had the same idea, a raft, but where were we to find enough wood?

We searched all along the white, clean sands, finding only small bits of timber, nowhere near enough to make a raft, but we did find two bits that were good for paddles. We were just about to give up when I spotted something, our prayers were answered and it lay just above the sands. The hanger near our unit had been used as a seaplane building and what we found was a pontoon off the bottom of a seaplane, just the ticket for the journey to the two islands. Looking back on this crack pot idea I would say we were both mad but the younger a man is the more likely he will go where angels fear to tread. Without thinking we went to our makeshift boat and paddles we had found. Two seats were needed and these were soon found as well as two old pails put into the boat. Then the homemade boat was ever so gently pushed into the Pacific and we carefully got into it. I know we both were pleased the way it gracefully went through the swells of the Ocean. Eyeing the water I said, "Okay skipper", and without thinking of what lay ahead of us the boat was paddled towards the island.

Although we were on the shore of Okinawa, I could see the beach of Si Soce in the distance and the longer we sat in the boat the nearer the island became. From a distance it looked like paradise, nearer still it was beautiful. The sands of the beach blended with the green of the trees. Just off the sands, John and I saw movements in the trees and taking a closer look, we saw shapes of people looking at us. The tide swept us slightly sidewards as we reached the waters edge and as we looked inland the faces we had seen had disappeared. There seemed to be nothing but greenery. Having seen all these gooks, it made us hesitate, was it worth the risk to explore this place on earth? Iwo Jima could be seen a distance away, so should we take a chance and explore Si Soce, or go to Iwo Jima, our intended destination?

Many a mistake is made in one's life and we made another one, but this I must admit we were tired of paddling and my bum sure was aching, so we beached the craft and carried it above the waterline. The line of trees spreading along the top of the sands were not far away and at last we sat down beside a tree trunk and noticed that it bent inland, probably because of the mighty winds that came in from the sea. Walking up and down the top of the beach, a pathway was found into the trees. Looking right and left I was amazed at all the different types of plants and greenery I saw, just the ideal place for an ambush. The carbine I carried was very light, but I knew John was unarmed for he carried nothing, not even a small slingshot. As the two of us walked along, a feeling of danger was in the air, I don't know why but we had a feeling, someone or something was looking at us.

We both walked along and tried to shake off this feeling and at long last the two of us entered an open glade, just about in the centre of the island. The middle of this opening was quite large and contained quite a number of houses. They all looked very alike, but all of them had thatched roofs. It was very much like finding fairyland, but the land of the gnomes it was not, for coming out of each house a gook appeared, some with long sticks in their hands and certainly not smiling as they came towards us. They were about one hundred yards before us, when we heard noises at the rear and looking around we saw gooks coming out the trees behind us. Turning around the two of us ran like hell but before the woods were reached they caught us up and John was flung to the ground. A dirty bearded man had a knife raised above him. Without hesitation I shot him. The man with the knife crumpled to the left, leaving John free to jump up and I fired at everything that moved, even a couple of bullets at those coming towards us from the houses. I really believe the gooks never realised we had a weapon with us and this gave us a slight advantage.

We were able to reach the trees, but in the background we heard the noise of pursuit. Following the pathway till it ended we rushed out of the woods and the prettiest object in the world lay before us, the boat. It became our only chance of escape. Without it there was no way out and the two of us would have perished. In matters of seconds we had the pontoon afloat and climbed into it just as the gooks broke shelter, shaking their fists and yelling blue murder. Everyone I saw either had a club or a long knife. After this close shave, it was decided that our next port of call would be Iwo Jima. I believe we both were shaken by this close call with death, but we had put all this in the past, so John and I both paddled in a relaxing way.

The sun was blazing down on us and it was such a hot day I could not help but think of childhood days and the memory of me using the top of an old trunk for a boat, and the times my mum paddled my bum for falling into this smelly stinking pond. John shouting blue murder and gesticulating with one hand brought me back to reality and as I followed his finger I saw the black fins. If I had not been day dreaming I would have seem them sooner, but from the calm Pacific Ocean came a school of tiger sharks as they all swam around our make shift boat. God, another problem was with us. This shark was known to attack anything that moved above water and could even be more dangerous than the mighty great white. We both put down our paddles and sat very still, hoping and preying that the quietness would make them search for other prey. Over an hour passed (and it seemed like years) but the tigers still circled the craft, always getting nearer and nearer. The two of us realised that if one of these sharks nudged or came up under the boat we were goners.

The boat was drifting with the current, bobbing up and down because the tides were changing, but the boat was drifting towards Iwo Jima. The situation became crucial, for the sharks came closer. I leaned a little to the side and actually touched the black fin, which felt like leather and as I looked at John, he pointed at the gun with fear in his eyes and I knew without some type of action from us, we would be shark bait. I gently reached down to retrieve the carbine and as I raised it from the boat I found to my dismay, it was wet. Moving my legs apart I found it had been laying in about an inch of water. How the boat had been leaking we did not know, but it was imperative we reach land as soon as possible. I held the rifle on my lap and wiped it dry with my shirtsleeve. I then took the clip of bullets out of my weapon, held it up to blow down the long black barrel, thus making sure there was no vapour in it. There were not many rounds of ammunition left because we had used quite a few on Si Soce. What I was about to do became a gamble and had never been done before, so we were in the lap of God. The black dorsal fin broke the surface three yards away and in one motion I aimed and fired. I could see a slight ripple as the bullet hit the water just below the fin. Nothing happened so I again fired at other black fins I saw.

John yelled, "you hit the bastard", and I could just see in one spot a tiny tinge of red and before our very eyes all the tigers had disappeared. The gamble had worked, for I'm sure the sharks had followed their wounded and were busy having a feast. We started to paddle away from this place, with the thought, "It could have gone the other way". We reached Iwo Jima shortly after and carried the boat off the sands, but before anything else, repairs had to be made to stop the leak. The leak in the pontoon was quickly mended, it had a slight crack and the welding had opened a little. The crack was quickly mended with a piece of my shirt pushed into the opening. The two of us had been so eager to get to our feet on solid ground that neither of us had given a lot of thought to where inland was to be. The cove, though sandy and small situated below huge boulders with spaces between them and strewn upon the pale sands dried up seaweed could be seen. We left the boat to make our way up to among the huge rocks and came to an abrupt stop, for all around us lay American Army gear. There were thirty infantry helmets plus twenty carbines and about five M1 rifles which all lay under an overhanging rock.

Looking between the rocks something made me stop for I saw a glimmer of light in the sands and bent down to pick it up. In my hands I held a pair of dog tags (disks worn around the neck, for identity purposes). I put these in my pocket, to hand in when we returned to Okinawa. In all, fifteen rifles were found, one more than we had counted. Nine steel helmets and loads of clothing, some just ripped to shreds. There were no bodies discovered, but God knows there must have been quite a few casualties, for even the grey black rocks had a tinge of red on them. As we still had to find the way through the boulders and reach the headland, carrying a load of weapons with us was out of the question. So when at last we reached high ground the M1's were thrown into the Pacific, but not before I looked all around. Without a doubt, this was one of the most baron of islands I had ever seen. It could have compared to the sister, island Si Soce, for whereas the island we had left had trees and lots of green flora on this island of Iwo Jima there was nothing. It would have been nice if I could have seen this island before the war, but now it was literally destroyed, for the bombing and artillery shells from the armada of boats cleared Iwo Jima of all vegetation and to make sure of victory, the American soldiers went ashore to finish the job.

Everywhere John and I went there were signs of human suffering and even though the battle was not many days ago, it left a savage scar on Mother Earth. Where the gooks had lived now were deep craters and the human remains had not been collected and the smell of death floated on the still air. The sun rose high in the blue cloudless sky and Okinawa could be seen shimmering in the distance. The two of us were following the coastline and looking over the hill. Land was jutting out from land to form a large U shaped pattern and it was on this piece we decided to have a rest. The huge boulder we sat on was above but overlooked the mighty Pacific, but if either one of us took a step forward, he'd have fallen into the water below. "What do you make of that John", and I pointed to the bottom of the rock where we sat.

"Surely it can't be what it looks like, but if I was to make a guess I certainly would say it was a partially submerged jeep", but to make doubly sure the two of us moved to a spot nearer the object. It surely was a large disposal dump, for it certainly was a jeep and many other items, including two or three torpedo boats were seen in a pile under the water. Why, was another question, but we presumed it was cheaper to get rid of it this way, for it would have been costly to take it back to America.

Our time on this island was literally flying by, so we hurried to make up the time we'd lost earlier for we wanted to see and explore as much of Iwo Jima as possible. Every twist and turn on the walk around the island produced what we had expected to see, here and there signs of fierce battles. Only half of the land had been searched, when a discovery was made. We discovered very large holes dug into the earth and to our great surprise, tunnels were dug to connect one or two at a time. The first and only hole we climbed into was a place of horror. The earth outside was black and inside was found three bodies as black as the dirt and I realised how these people had died. In basic training I had used one of these deadly weapons and knew the destruction it could cause. It was the liquid gas Flame Thrower. To be killed by a bullet was very quick, but to be burned alive was deplorable. I realised that this was war and the only way to remove somebody from inside the earth, became the job of the flame thrower, but be sure of this, the soldier who used this, must still be having nightmares. As we went from one area to another, all the caverns had corpses lying on the ground, just outside and the smell of death was everywhere. I felt sick of all this slaughter and also felt pity, but I knew that when fighting the enemy, no quarters could be given. After the last Japanese was killed, or captured, then, and only then would a soldier feel any reaction?

Many a mother and child was doomed to die on this island because no one knew if there were enemy or foe hiding below the earth and no chances were taken. We had travelled past all these caverns and sat back on a small hill as I gazed back at the bodies outside the blackened hole, I became deep in thought. I honestly could say, "I was glad that I was not issued with a flame thrower, for if I had, the thoughts of us using it would stay with me all my life and God knows I have plenty of nightmares already. I already had a cross to bear, for the actions performed in Europe, so knew just what this soldier was carrying with him, but as he would find, life goes on. While meditating my eyes focused on the land in the distance and realised the two of us had to make our way back to the boat, for the sun was near the horizon and it would be twilight by my reckoning in about three hours time.

Without looking back, John and I walked very slowly towards the way we'd came and I believe neither one of us wanted to spend a night on this God forsaken piece of land. There was a slight mishap on the return trip, for I fell into one of the numerous holes, falling head over heels to land on top of a stinking gook, but John helped me out and although I had a sprain I was able to limp back to the pontoon and boy weren't we glad to see it. The tide was well in, so we had no need to carry the transport to the water. We floated the boat and I had a difficult time getting into it, but once settled we began to paddle towards Okinawa. I know without a shadow of a doubt, it had been a wonderful adventure exploring Iwo Jima and even if it was a mad thing to do, I'd do it again, for it was something to remember and something never to forget. Without mishap we landed on the home island and looking back to where the two islands were, we made a sign of the cross and turned to make our way back to the post office hanger. It had been a very interesting day, but neither one of us was unhappy when this was all over and we could at last rest and know we were safe.

Laying on my bunk and staring at the wooden rafters, I could see a large spider spinning his web and as I watched, a fly few into the silken trap and as the long black creature grabbed it, I fell into a deep sleep. It had been such a tiresome day I really thought I'd sleep like a log, but instead it became the worst I'd had for a very long time. All I saw was bodies, dead but still walking towards me and as I turned to run away I found myself being shaken by something and awoke seeing the sentry's face staring at me. "Where the hell do you think your going and who are you?" he said, brandishing his rifle. He poked me again and looking around me I realised I had been sleep walking and also I was a very lucky soldier, for I could have been shot by the guard. The sentry sent me on my way once he knew who I was, but as I made my way back to the bedroom, I asked myself, "When would I disinherit these nightmares"? The sun was just coming over the horizon and a man stood above me, with a message, "Would I please report to the Sergeants quarters as soon as possible". He was waiting just inside the door and as I entered he took me by the arm and led me to a chair. "I've had a report from one of the sentry's about the affair last night and I do believe Corporal a check up would be advisable, do you not agree"? I thanked him for his concern and without delay a jeep was sent and I was taken to a medic.

The doctor gave me all types of tests and when he was satisfied, a verdict was given. "Corporal", he said, "I have come to the conclusion, you are quite fit in body, but the mind is still unsettled and stress is the problem. I'll send my report off to the officer in charge and recommend a few days off duty". Saluting him I turned and left the room, but I knew in my heart this would reoccur and I just had to grin and bear it. The days went by slowly and this gave me the opportunity to explore the area more fully and take as much time as I wanted, but it still was the long dark nights I dreaded. The trip to the doctor had not helped, for every night I closed my eyes, the vision of killing returned and the sleepwalking became more regular. Believe me at times I felt like ending it all. It was after one of these nights I got out of bed and decided I would go for a long drive, to pass the time away and see some of this worn torn island. Over one hill and down the other I went. The longer I motored the better I felt. Maybe because I was taking in all the signs of battles and trying to imagine what had happened. The headache I'd had the night before disappeared and at long last I felt my old self again. A few miles further on I parked the jeep and strolled along the road to stretch my legs. Before I knew it twilight had turned into night, the large pale moon rose over the horizon and looked so close I felt I could touch it. The light from above bathed the earth to show a huge battle had taken place here, leaving pieces of cloth and other objects. Then something glinted and I bent down and picked it up and to my surprise I held two dog tags in my palm.

Twice before this incident had occurred, once in Europe and now two times on the Isles of Okinawa. The chain was slightly tarnished, but the words printed on the tags read E Carter. I searched the area where the objects were found and just by my feet was a small brown book and holding it, I read, "Given to Ernie Carter, for services rendered, and below this was Holy Bible".

Somewhere, sometime this had been given to a very religious person and I certainly would give this to my commanding officer when I returned to camp. I sat for a very long time, wondering why it was me that was led to this spot to find a pocket scripture. The time was getting on and I had a long drive to get back to camp, so getting to my feet I climbed into my motor and drove away. It was a very clear night and all the stars in the Universe glimmered and it was like daytime as the moon lit up the earth like day. Arriving late at night I went straight to bed and had one of the best sleeps I'd had in a very long time and awoke in the morning feeling refreshed and my old self again. I never have fully explained what our living quarters were like, but to give an idea of where I slept and lived is very hard to do for they were only the basics. A bunk to sleep in and as for meals we all had C rations (small cardboard boxes) with a small tin of meat, crackers and maybe a cigarette. Very occasionally we had a hot meal, but very seldom.

Outside and beside the living quarters there was another building. The size of it was small compared to where we slept and this became the storage department. In a side room a generator provided us with all the electricity we needed and this damn noisy machine ran twenty-four hours a day. No running water, so therefore no flushing toilets and this meant going back to nature. The reader will ask, "How did you relieve yourself and the only answer was an outside toilet". First a hole was dug, six foot long, three foot wide and about four foot deep. A tree stem with a Y in it was pounded into the ground either side of the trench and a nine-foot pole was laid across the ditch to rest in the X. This was a testing time for a soldier, as he sat on the pole, one mistake would have been his downfall and the other hazard he faced was not quite as bad, but the Blue Bottle Flies I swear were as big as birds.

Beside the hanger lay, a very large mound, almost as tall as the house on the side of it was a pattern of brick shaped rocks, forming a door and about fifteen or twenty bricks had been disturbed and lay on the ground. Above the door could be seen words of a sort I was not able to read for they were in Japanese, but I was told that the locals had put a curse on anyone who entered the crypt. I was not frightened by the curse, for I had this with me from the day I was drafted and if it had not been for my guardian angel, I would have been among the dead a long time ago. However, I had no intention of crawling between the bricks and entering the crypt, for God knows what would be found in the darkness on the inside. A week later the doctor advised me to take things easy, but would be able to do small chores, providing there was no stress involved.

Chapter Twelve: The Hurricane

The days and weeks seemed to fly by and as each week ended, I began to feel my old self again so well that I was able to help the Sergeant in his sentry duty and in my spare time, doing the odd jobs around the unit. Many days later after a well-deserved sleep, I awoke, washed, had my breakfast, composed of a C ration and strolled down to the beach. I had plenty of time, as work did not start for another hour, so being in no hurry, reaching the sands I sat down over the placid sea and I saw Iwo Jima. There seemed to be a fog like, hazy mist so dense it covered the highest part of the island and as I watched it sparkled here and there like diamonds.

The quietness was incredible, not a sound was heard and the few gulls seen earlier had all disappeared, leaving the shoreline void and empty. I arose and walked toward the hangar, meeting the day staff as they entered the Post Office hangar. Rejoining my friends I hesitated briefly to look back at the Ocean. A waterspout appeared just off the islands and the sky looked very black on the horizon. Everyone around me looked very uneasy as a group of us entered the building, but this soon passed as we sorted the morning mail. Halfway through the morning shift, the officer in charge dismissed at least three quarters of the staff as the weather had deteriorated and left four of us to clear up. No one had reported about the conditions outside so we took it for granted that everything was ok. I was taken aback when a short time later the officer came back and quietly spoke to me. "I do not want to alarm anyone Corporal, but if this damn wind becomes any stronger and you feel in any danger, clear out". He sort of waved to the others and walked out of the door. I would say it was about an hour later when we heard creaking from the upright structures of the hangar and the vibrations of metal rubbing together, it certainly did not take too much imagination to realise that something was about to happen. The four of us stood one behind the other and as I slowly opened the door, it came off its hinges almost taking me with it and flew down the road. We had all fallen to the dirt floor and there was fear etched in every face, for we all knew that something had to be done quickly, or we all would perish. The long wide tin building shuddered in the wind and rose two inches from it's foundation as we pulled a long pole that mail bags hung from it's resting place and threw it like a lance, toward the porch on the house opposite our open door. God was with us this day, for the end rested on the bottom of the upright beam, so allowing us the chance to get from the fragile hangar we were in to the solid house, a chance we had to take.

Do not think I was frightened, for every word I seemed to say was, "Get a move on for Christ's sake", as each man clutched the wood and crawled hand over hand to disappear inside the doorway. All three got safely into the stone house and so it was yours truly's turn and even today will always wonder why I always came last and again I had picked the joker. I got about three quarters of the way across, when the damn building I had left, left it's foundations to fly like a bird into the air, but still hanging on to the pole I was slung like a wiggling snake along the ground and luckily for me, I hit the side of the crypt and somehow ended up inside. The putrid, smelly burial chamber was as dark as pitch inside but I was not in the least interested in the situation I found myself in, only to thank God I was still in one piece.

It was quite a long time before I was able to look outside and felt as if a bus had run over me. The pain was unbearable, but I had to know what had really happened. Very slowly I crawled to the open bricks and what came into view was the two islands in the Pacific. The post office hangar had literally disappeared and only part of the foundation was left. My vision was limited, but I also saw to my amazement a large ocean going ship, grounded well above the waterline and some of its crew still trying to escape the winds, but to no avail as a few were swept away. The strong scent of death hung in the air and although there were gale force winds outside, I felt safe and would have to put up with the putrid smell coming from the stack of bones neatly piled on a shelf in the corner of the tomb. Again I saw letters painted on the dark wall, but could not understand them for they were in Japanese but presumed they spoke of the burial chamber and the dead.

The winds were making funny noises as they hissed past the opening in the bricks and I found myself uttering the Lords prayer and wishing I had found refuge somewhere else, but had to grin and bear it and be calm, for nothing lasts forever. Nearly all day I lay against the damp slimy wall of the crypt, only to move occasionally because of cramp and to wonder how long this ordeal would last. Then just like a flick of the fingers, all the noises ceased from outside and I thought to myself, "Thank God for that", this was the eye of the storm and I realised that the winds would start to blow again. What the hell鈥檚 happening I thought to myself, then I realised in the eye, there was always a lull and the second half could become worse than the first. So as there was nothing I could do, I just had to grin and bear it. The winds howled and the smell inside this cold black crypt became stronger and with the blackness and the sickly odour, I must have fallen asleep.

How long later I cannot say, but I found myself lying at the bottom of the pile of stinking bones. Rising to my feet, very unsteadily I limped over to the holes in the bricks to look outside. Three or four of my soldier friends stood gazing at the debris that lay where the post office hangar used to be. "Hip, Hip Hurray", they all shouted as they spied me crawl out of the very small hole. They all thought I was a goner, when I was hurled against the stone-faced tomb and disappeared, so when they saw me emerge it was like seeing a ghost. I was as near a spirit as a man could be, but I howled in agony as each man touched me, proving I was still alive and kicking. The hurricane was reported to have winds of up to one hundred and fifteen miles an hour and countless lives were lost, including two of my best friends. The unit I served lost everything, the mail sorted the day before must have flew half way across the Pacific and literally everything not tied down blew away. After the storm and a few days later we were nearly back to normal, but things would never be the same, for the tin upright hangar could be seen laying in pieces all around us. The army engineers were called in to try and erect a suitable building, for the post to be sent and collected from and this took quite a spell to do, so meanwhile the officer in charge gave the unit a three day pass.

Most of my unit chose to rest and swim on the beach everyday, but John and I equipped ourselves for a long walk, exploring a few parts of the island we were interested in. We had heard on the silent army grapevine, that as the war had ended, men would be sent for discharge, according to points and both of us knew, this may be the only chance we had of seeing at least most of Okinawa. Walking and resting when tired, late afternoon soon came and all this time no human or even animal was seen. Surely to God someone or something had to be about. The both of us had an uncanny feeling that something or somebody was watching every move we made, but where the hell were they hidden. This made the two of us very much on edge, for we knew the Japanese handled camouflage like an expert. Maybe this was why they were treated like animals.

Although the war was declared over, one would have thought no more killing could possibly take place, but our unit had been told, many, many times, "Take nothing for granted", and we also knew beyond a shadow of doubt, many of these ex fighters would re-unite and fight to the finish, for this was the way to heaven. Sitting beside a huge grey boulder and resting our heads on the huge rock, we heard noises of someone jabbering in Japanese, just around where we sat. John looked at me and pointed, as two children emerged holding hands. I believe all four of us did not realise the other was about. The children got bolder and their talk became louder as I lay my carbine on the ground, just in front of my boots. The talking ceased and as I reached into my pocket the youngsters faces showed fear, and as they turned to run away, I laid a hand on one of the two facing me and produced a C ration (food) to offer them. They still looked uneasy, so again pointing at the object I held, then pointing to my mouth, as if I was about to eat and the two of them started to giggle, bowed to me and accepted the small box. We knew we would not get any information from these two, so as their grubby little hands were ripping open the box, we walked away.

The sun was just on the horizon and would dip out of sight any moment, as we stopped for the night. The place selected for the night had one good advantage there was only one path to our hideaway so we should be able to sleep with safety in mind. The tossing of a coin denoted who would stand guard on the first shift and poor John lost, so armed with my carbine he took first watch. I lay back with my head against the tree and before one could say, "Jack Robinson", I was in a deep sleep. God knows how long I slept, it seemed like seconds for awaking I saw my chum bending over me. Getting to my feet and taking the rifle I walked away to stand my stint of duty.

On and off all day the two of us had walked and both of us felt quite safe and as half of our journey had been achieved we would be returning to our home depot the following day. A very large tree with a long slender stem stood close to us so I went to sit on the ground beneath it, leaving John sitting next just below where I rested and as I watched him he snored ever so softly in his sleep. I closed my eyes and in a flash my mind was miles across the Atlantic and Pacific Ocean to a shy young bride and my child she was bearing. I had written many a letter to her and received many in return. I started to count the days and weeks that had gone by since I had last seen her lovely face and realised it must be at least seven or eight months and soon I'd be a proud Dad and wasn't it something, "A father at twenty one".

I do not know what it was but something I heard snapped me back to reality and as I opened my eyes, in my vision I saw two figures, then two more and as the cloud passed away from the moon it revealed four men. It never took me very long before I realised, these were not friends, for the way they walked and moved was sinister, spelling trouble that we could ill afford. I rarely had seen Japanese soldiers, but I could tell these were genuine, for all of them had black beards and slanted eyes. Two choices were given me, I could quietly wake my buddy and the two of us slip away, but could not do this without making my self a target. While I was thinking, John had made the solution for me and he awoke to fling his arms in the air and shouted, "Where are you Buddy".

The large yellow moon came from behind a cloud and bathed the scenery in pale light and before he yelled, I shouted, "Get down you fool", and two shots were heard in the morning air. Bedlam raged on the path below me. John fell out of sight as three Japanese soldiers threw themselves off the pathway and into the bushes. Leaving one of their men lying face down on the dark ground with his rifle just beside him. I could not help but wonder whether my mate had survived the battle and what a fool he felt. A sigh of relief sounded from me as I saw John rise from where he lay and raised an arm to wave and I saw a smile on his face. One thing I learned in my scouting days in Europe was patience and it had saved my life countless of times, so my friend saw me and pointed at the ground and put open handed palms to my head, meaning, "lay where you are and keep your head down". On the distant horizon and above the trees, the sun rose and still I waited and a short time later, what I hoped for, happened. Just opposite from where the dead Japanese soldier lay, a uniformed soldier cautiously crawled beneath a huge bush and laying on his stomach he looked left then right and a few moments later motioned his friends to join him.

At long last the three were standing over their comrade. One of them picked up the rifle, and all three of them started chattering to each other. All this time they must have thought the enemy had left the scene, so now was the time to act and when it did they certainly were taken by surprise. I had no intention of killing, for I had enough killing on my conscience and could not stand the heartache of carrying another. I certainly am not bragging, but I was able to hit anything I aimed at up to two hundred yards and I earned a marksman badge in the horrific battles that were fought in Europe to prove it. Motioning John to stand up I fired my first shot. The bearded Japanese soldier holding the rifle fell over backwards, clutching his foot and before he hit the ground the second had thrown his gun away from his arms. As it landed in the dust, a white flag fluttered from the third man鈥檚 raised arm.

We both came out of hiding and approached the three and somehow this capture did not seem right, for I had been told it was a type of blessing for a Japanese soldier to die in battle, for his soul would go to Heaven. It was also a disgrace to give oneself up for he鈥檇 go to hell and his soul would never rest. John held his rifle as I looked at the man still on the ground, but he was not badly hurt, for anyone can live with a big toe missing, so with a large bandage on it he could stand up. The others kept bowing and jabbering in Japanese and as I walked up to the three, they put their arms above their heads, ready to be searched. The last solider refused a body search but I pushed his hands away and pulled a photograph from his torn tightly buttoned pocket. What possibly could a Japanese prisoner hide that was so very important? As I looked at it, his eyes had a misty look about them and a tear formed to drop to the ground. The photo showed a family of four people, two young children and two smiling adults and the man standing in front of me was the husband. He tentatively put one grubby hand forward and very gently took it from my hand, stepping back as he did so. Then he put his hands toward me, to clasp his hands together then withdrew them, to press them against his chest. He looked me in the eyes and said nothing but bowed. I cannot say how my friend felt, but as for myself, where as before I felt anger, now there was nothing but pity. Three courses of action we could take. One, we could shoot them, but this would be murder, so was ruled out. Two, we could take them back to be tried by the military police and God knows what kind of punishment they'd receive, so we both decided on the third option, set our prisoners free. The Japanese soldiers were made to sit on the ground before us and three of their rifles with bayonets were broken over some rocks with the fourth being taken by John to have as a keepsake.

We left one of our knapsack spades (small shovel for digging fox holes) and went back along the way we'd come in, pausing only to look back and see the Japanese burying their dead comrade. One hour later, we were well on our way to the home base and stopped to rest and have what little food we had left, washed down with what remained of the water left in the canteens we carried. We had been following the coastline of the great Pacific Ocean and far inland, we knew that sooner or later we'd arrive back to the postal unit, providing of course it had been erected.

Stopping just before and over an overhanging cliff that blocked out the sun鈥檚 rays, creating a massive shady area, we sat down to look at the calmness of the sea and as we saw the fins of a tiger shark break the surface, a rumbling sound was heard above us. Looking above, it looked like the whole cliff was falling down onto us. Again the guardian angel was with us, for a cave just behind where we sat became our sole salvation. Diving into it, the both of us just sat and prayed and when the cliff had settled and the slide ended, digging our way out became a problem, but at last we emerged safe and well. Both of us became aware of the laughter echoing above us and looking above the piles of rock below the cliff, we had no reason but believe this had been planned, and not caused by nature. Had this been our fault for releasing all the prisoners, or was nature to blame, for the rock fall. It was something that we'd never know, but can anyone explain the laughter.

The two of us waded into the light blue ocean, till the warm water reached our necks. Splashing and leaping up and down soon rid us of the dust and mud caked on the clothes we wore, but the most enjoyable thing was sitting on the pale white sands and being dried by the pleasant warm breeze. One hour later, the road we had left came into view and I believe the both of us yelled, "Hip, Hip Hurray", for the home camp was just beyond the next hill. The twilight came just as we strolled into the perimeters of the postal unit and approaching us was the Sergeant, who's first words were, "where the hell have you two been", but he did not utter these words in anger. He put a hand on my shoulder and led me a few yards away from John. "Now put me in the picture", he said, "for we were beginning to think the two of you were dead". I described as best I could, what had happened, and the capture of the Japanese and as soon as I told him about this and the rock fall, the expression on his face changed from a smile into one of anger. "You damn fools", he said, "by the books, they should have been brought back to camp, but I suppose they would have been a liability, so probably what you did was right". He then turned to walk away, hesitated, turned and said, "Oh by the way, there is a letter for you and also the officer in charge would like to see you at eight o-clock tomorrow morning and I've also been told don't be late". Without delay I saw the duty officer and he gave me the letter and walking to my living quarters I quickly opened it. Many a letter I had received from my wife, but this one was the most urgent, for she must be very close to being a mother and when I read it I just couldn't believe how quickly the time had flown by. I had arrived on this island on September 15th 1945 and just did not believe that I had not seen her for nearly nine months, therefore I could be a father any day now, "Whoopee". That night I lay on my bunk and just could not sleep. I kept asking myself, "Why the hell did the US Government send me from England, after making the landing on Omaha and leaving my wife to come to this God forsaken place".

I felt as if I'd been let down by the army, but then I realised, they knew nothing about my wife being pregnant and one wonders would they have taken any notice. Eventually I fell into slumber land and once again I had the same terrible dreams, killing, with more killing. Then I was walking between upright poles, pushing each one aside as I went between them. I had the feeling of being dragged to the ground and held down. Lashing out and opening my eyes as I did so, the picture of one of my mates appeared, holding a nose that looked broken. He lisped as he spoke, "God buddy, you've been having a real whopper of a nightmare", and one of the others pulled me to my feet and slowly led me back to my bunk. It had been quite a spell since I'd had a dream like this and I tossed about in bed for a long time. Eventually to fall into a deep sleep, much to the relief of the rest of the soldiers. The night hours soon passed and awakening I washed and got dressed, for this morning the CO had given an order that I must not be late. Hastily walking to headquarters I knocked and opened the door and walked in and as I did so, the small clock just in front of me chimed softly eight times. The officers' receptionist sitting just beside it got to his feet and ushered me into another room.

The man sitting at the desk had two silver bars on each shoulder, he smiled at me as I saluted, "I believe sir you wanted to see me", and stood to attention as he motioned me to be at ease, and take a seat. "Corporal Nelson", he said, its not very often I get the chance to have a man to man talk with my personnel, but I have been told many stories about the battles you've taken part in and the blood shed that went on, in the Omaha Beach landing". He looked down at some papers on his desk and continued, "After learning all about this from your Sergeant, I felt it my duty to personally meet you", again he glanced at his papers. "Your war efforts in the European war zone did you proud and the US Government holds you in the highest esteem. There will come a day my friend when killing and bloodshed will be a thing of the past and this has partially been created by men like yourself". "Now to tell you the reason for this talk, it's about being discharged".

The American Army works on a points system and you now have well over the necessary amount to be sent Stateside he said. I was offered if I wanted to stay in the army, have a promotion to staff Sergeant or have leave to go home. This meant an upgrade in rank, but return to the Pacific, and as this would prevent me from seeing my wife and child, I refused and accepted to go home and leave the forces.

Never could I say I was sorry to leave the island of Okinawa, and when at last about one hundred of us men got on the ship, I did not leave with tears in my eyes, nor did I put up two fingers. I never did understand why it was I had been sent here in the first place, for I believe that the D-Day Landing, and stress I went through in France in the killing of humans, was enough to grant me the right, to have earned the privilege to return home. So I left with most of my unit, not with love for I had earned what I was going to get, a chance to rebuild my life.

Chapter Thirteen: The Journey Home

Again it was a small vessel we got on for our long trip from Okinawa, up toward the state of Washington. Again it was the same routine, but I suppose not quite so severe, as I suppose our Captain, who was in charge knew we were all on our way home to get discharged. The island of Okinawa slowly passed out of sight, leaving Si Soce to fade from view and there was not a glum face on the ship. Time passed very slowly and other than the regular routine, I began to have traumatic dreams again. I suppose it was because I had too much leisure time to relive the past year. I would dream of the boat trip across the channel to France, crowded into small groups, not a word being said, only some moaning, which sounded like weeping coming on the side and the odd person praying. These dreams were so real it was as if I was reliving the beginning all over again.

This was the dream I could put up with, although there were times when I would wake up, sometimes on the deck of the boat, and did not know how I got there. The worst of the lot was when I remember killing my first human, and the look in his eyes as he screamed as I pulled the trigger, but then the only excuse I could think of was "It was either him or me", but the visions were so clear, it was as if I was re-enacting it over again. Gradually I learned as I did in the past to try to think of other things and as the ship went over the waters of the giant ocean, I was able to relax. The further we went the more at ease I felt so the dreams became less and less, maybe also the Chaplin on the boat helped for he always was on hand when any one needed help. Then one day after breakfast, land was sighted in fact this was to become later the 50th State in the Union, Hawaii. It was a cruel sight to see, but also wonderful to know that at last this cruel war was over. These were not just my thoughts, everyone who saw these huge upturned ships showing their rusty red metal will always remember Pearl Harbour.

There were gasps of surprise when the ship we were on came into the harbour, for all one could see, even after the peace was signed, and the war over was still the signs of destruction. Never did I expect to see and I'm sure ninety percent of those that went to Europe never saw what I was gazing on. The Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbour made Franklin D. Roosevelt the President of the USA declare war on Japan, and I would guess also the declaration also included Germany. This must have made Hitler realize the war was lost. The boats in the bay were turned over and it was like looking at a stretch of water that had about twenty-three or thirty very large ships still where the Japanese bombed them, and the rusted bottoms of the warships were all that was visible.

Truly when I look back on my younger days, I had a lifetime in less than three years of my life. I was drafted on January 29th 1943, went on Basic Training and drew the short straw on D-Day, by making the Omaha Beachhead. I slew my first man, got shrapnel in my legs, captured a machine gun nest, won the expert infantry rifle badge, got a citation for bravery, and in twenty-eight days got shot, and received the Purple Heart medal. This is only part of my interesting life, for I got married at twenty-one to a lovely English woman and had a son born while I was in Okinawa. I was once told I lived a fairy life story, that the only thing I suppose I led was a charmed life. The sight of the siege at Pearl Harbour bought all this to memory and a lot more was yet to come, only this time, it was not to be about killing, it was to be about civilian life. We weighed anchor and went away from the graveyard of ships in Pearl Harbour and there was not a man onboard our ship could say, "He was not pleased to see this place". This part of the world would go down in history as being the reason why America was brought into World War Two. With a heavy heart we left this place for many a young sailor died here.

This was a short stay, just enough to stretch our legs but it was long enough for the rest, and me for we all would be glad to reach the good old USA. Days later in January early 1945 we at long last saw the West Coast of America and soon docked at the naval port. If I could name all the places I fought my way through the location on a map, I'd have to have the memory of an elephant, especially of so long ago. So it will not surprise the reader of this book that I was either running through or was not there long enough to remember names. It was so long ago I can only bring to mind that the camp I arrived at after the docking of the boat was in Seattle Washington State, the furthest North Western State in the Union at that time. The scenery was fantastic in the distance you could see mountains and then giant redwood trees pointing high above, but the surprise I got when I arrived at the camp was not of the majestic outdoor beauty, but what this was composed off.

It nearly made me sick with anger, and even today I still can't comprehend how it could have happened, for before me was not the Americans I was expected to see, it was the German Prisoners of war and I could not count the amount I saw because they were everywhere. What made me so damn mad was I had experienced hell fighting them and here they were living a life of luxury, God I was mad. There was many a man embarking from this ship who never experienced active service. Therefore they never knew the traumas of battles, nor how I felt as I saw these men. I do know however it was as if I was mingling with the enemy again.

When I had entered the services to fight for my country, I had no doubt in my mind I could have died, but I still do not understand why they were treated so well. I'll bet if the shoe were on the other foot, I would have been treated far more differently. If no one believes me ask a few of the American prisoners of war, to see if I told the truth. Anyway ignoring the fact that I felt as though I was not going to last long. The group of men I was with dispersed and all went to different locations to be discharged. This was after we were in the camp about two or three days.

This time I was sent in style for I got on a Pullman train and left on the 8th of January 1946. The destination I presumed was Fort Devon, Massachusetts, where I was to be released from the forces, and I would not after my last ordeal, to have found the place of discharge crawling with Italians, and maybe even the odd Jap. The days went by one by one, passing through each State, getting off the train every day for exercise, but knowing full well that this journey was the end of my army life. I must admit that if I had not married and had a son, maybe just maybe I would have stopped in the army, but not in the postal unit, for I felt I belonged in the infantry. The promotion was there, but felt I had to get to know my wife again, and meet for the first time my small son. On the 18th January 1946 at long last we reached Fort Devon, and went through the same ritual as when we were conscripted into the army, although this time it was for getting out of the forces.

First we had a full nights sleep after the long train journey, then the following morning I had to see the doctor to be pronounced physically fit for discharge. I was told I'd have to see another doctor for they were not satisfied with my right hand. The problem they investigated I had known for months. If they had looked into my army records they would have known I had three dead fingers on my hand; thumb, trigger finger and middle one. This was due to the gunshot wound having shattered the bone in my wrist. I felt something pressing my fingers but had no feeling. I could even smoke a cigarette and it would stay alight right down past my digits and I would not feel a thing.

At long last I was eventually passed with only this small disablement so I lined up for my new uniform and at this time they asked me," what regiment I wanted to be discharged from". This question came as a surprise to me for I could have told the person asking it please release me from the navy. Without any hesitation I said the 315th infantry regiment although I still found it very strange. I now had my new uniform (for they did not offer civilian wear and with my few dollars and train ticket plus my honourable discharge I left the services on the month of January 20th 1946 just seven days before my 22nd birthday. I caught a taxi to the train station and having a while before my departure I went into a saloon to have a drink of beer. I leaned against the bar and asked the man behind for a pint and he looked me up and down. To my amazement he told me to take the uniform off, and stop playing games, and to come back when I was twenty-one. I was taken back for a few moments and before I realised it I had a chair in my hands and was about to give him one of the best before someone got a hold of me and wrestled me to the floor. I was livid with frustration for I'm sure if I had not been caught in time I would most certainly have brained him. One of the spectators standing close by picked up a paper that fell from my pocket, read it and handed it to my perspective assailant, who in turn read it while I was being held. In the meantime I'll bet half the police force of Boston Mass, had turned up in the saloon. They held me on the floor and looked at my discharge papers. "Be God, Be Glory", spoke an Irish Copper. "He's only come back from spending time in the war, look at all these medals his won", and everyone in the saloon could not do enough for me. But even though the bartender said how sorry he was, as he thought I looked too young to drink, I had told him to stick his drinks, and slammed the door behind me.

Waiting on the platform of the train station I had a little smile for I could see the funny side of this episode. Even to this day I keep thinking, not a grey hair in my head, and still I looked like a boy, after what I had been put through. Then the train pulled in and I collected my gear, got onto the Pullman car and settled down for my trip home. When I look back on my three years in the army, what I had seen and done, I realize that I went into the services as a green young youth, but in reality I came out a grown up young man but had given up very close to three years of my life for what?

At long last the train pulled into Portland Maine and I waited patiently for a connection to take me to the town of Camden. While I waited my mind went on the future, because now I was a civilian again, what lay before me? Maybe I was expecting a hero celebration when I returned to my hometown, but as I stepped off the greyhound express, it was as if I had never left, for only shoppers and locals were seen. I suppose this was partly because the temperature was about twenty below zero and snow was laying everywhere. Let's face it, it was the middle of winter, and no one ventured too far in this weather. So my homecoming was not as I had expected. There was no one waiting for me with open arms but then no one knew in my family that I was being discharged. The government had not told anyone nor had I, so I should have expected nobody to greet me. I then walked with my ex army gear out to Nelsonville, five miles away. Good job I was fit for even I was feeling the cold, what a welcome, but it was not my family's fault for they did not know when I was expected to arrive.

When I eventually went into dad and mom鈥檚 house it was like coming from hell to heaven, for nowhere or no place would I be received with such love and believe me I knew I was home again. We had a reunion as such, but I missed not having my son and wife to meet me, but had to wait for the army to send her to America as a GI bride. In the meantime I had to get a job and find a home for her. The job was no problem for I went back to the old Sea Bright Textile Mill and worked in the large spinning room. I had never worked in a cloth-making factory before, but my dad had worked there for years, so with the small grant I got from the government, I learned the skill of spinning yarn on bobbins, a tedious job and not much money. This I think was where I made one of my big mistakes in life, for instead of thinking what my wife would want, I helped build a log cabin just at the back of my dads house.

With my brothers鈥� help we ran a large electrical wire from my father's house to the cabin for lights. Then generally tidied the place up for when she arrived by boat from England. I really hoped that I had done the right thing for her living quarters and hoped she would like it. Looking back again I should have realized that this was not right for a person coming from London, a city to a log cabin situated outside a small town. I can understand now, our marriage would not have worked because I gave no thought to what would make her happy. What I should have done was rent until I could afford to buy some land and put up a home. If I had done all this "well this would be a different story", but no one can turn the clock back.

At long last when I got the message she was on a ship and to land on a Saturday morning in March I was elated, for I had not seen my wife for thirteen months and never laid eyes on my son David. With my best bib and tucker on and believe me in those days in the states, it was not a suit, my brother Vincent drove me to New York, where we slept overnight in a cheap hotel. Cheap when I say cheap, we actually slept on the floor, but at least we were out of the cold. The damn bed bugs were as big as birds and they gave nasty bites.

Morning came and Vincent and myself waited outside the barrier, for what seemed like ages, but it was only about half an hour, when over the loud speaker came a voice saying would the husband of Mrs Marion Nelson please report at Immigrations. I ran, almost as fast as I could nearly falling over a bench and passing ex-soldiers with their GI brides kissing and cuddling. Looking past a couple, there she was. We gazed at each other for a moment and I grabbed her and my child ever so gently, and she wept with emotion. As for young David, it was so wonderful to feel like a husband and father rolled into one. I don't know how long we held each other, but I got a slight touch from behind, it was my brother, wanting to meet his sister in law for the first time, again their were tears of happiness. I did find out later on that no GI bride would be let through the barriers unless she was met. There was a lot of unhappiness as quite a lot were not met, and ended up on Staten Island, either to wait or be sent back to England. I for one got what I had waited for, so without ado I held young David in my arms, put an arm around my wife and followed my brother Vincent to the car.

It was a long ride back to Maine and we were all tired by the time we reached Nelsonville. The family accepted my wife with open arms and being British with her accent she was known for miles around. My bride and son were welcomed into the family and she accepted them, but I was living too close, only about four or five hundred metres away from my dad's home and I suppose the different style of life did not help she was from the great city. As for me, well I was a country boy, as green as green could be. I worked everyday at the mill and of course, Joyce was left to mind our son, and not having a television in those days, you made your own enjoyment.

This went on for a whole year, maybe a little longer and all the time I knew that she was getting homesick and very unhappy for her own family and style of living, but there was little I could do, for I had not the money to send her on holiday, in fact I was as poor as a church mouse. How does a person change ones way of living, if he or she does not have the financial backing. I did not tell the woman I took as a wife I was wealthy (like some yanks did). Quite frankly I told her, "I didn鈥檛 have a pot to pee in鈥�. I was quite happy with my brothers and sisters, but my wife was crying every night and I had to do something. When her mother said she would pay our fare back to England, I thought for many hours and then realized I must do the right thing, for I did not want to lose her and my son. So I agreed, but knew full well that I was giving up part of my life and would try to make another and I did this with some regret. Before I finish this change in my life I must relate what happened two weeks before we left the state of Maine for our journey to New York to catch the Queen Elizabeth, a liner. My dad and myself went for a long walk up Mountain Street chatting about nearly everything, and looking at the scenery as we went. On the right of Mountain Street, near Mount Betty, and at the left of the long road, lay a huge cemetery, and before I knew it, Dad took my hand and led me into it. We walked among the different sized gravestones and after a while we stopped, and just down the hill of the graveyard, I could make out the house in Sand Street where I was born. He then put his hand on my shoulder and said, "One day, only God knows, your mother, and myself will lay here, so remember this my son, God bless you and the little professor and his mom". I will always remember this for I'm sure he had a premonition, that he would never see me again. This is one of those days in my life I鈥檒l always think about and also when the time came to leave the crying of my mom and sisters.

At last we caught the greyhound express to arrive at the docks in New York where we boarded the Elizabeth and was on our way to England. No one in these days could just stay in England but I was allowed to reside in this country because I had a place to live and a job to go to. I also had a small four-page booklet with my photo in it, signed by Scotland Yard, telling me that if I changed jobs or ever moved to another address I was to inform the police. We landed in Southampton and after going through customs the three of us boarded a train and we went to Victoria Station, where we met my wife's brother, then on to Cowdray House, East Dulwich, London, where we were to reside with Joyce's mother.

Even though I never was well off everybody else seemed to be in the same boat. The Londoners treated me as one of their own and barring my accent they left me to get on with my life. I was told later on by a Cockney, "If I had moved to this country to live off the state, then I would not be welcome." I had no intention of doing this, for I already had a job and I had always worked in the country, the only difference was this was part of London city and I had always been a country hick.

I never had the opportunity of meeting my father in law, for he had passed away in the blitz of bombings, but my wife's mother treated me as part of the family and shared whatever she had with us. We lived in a block of flats, one floor up and had a fireplace in the living room. We did not use coal, but burnt railway sleepers, sawn in pieces for heat. This of course kept on setting the chimney alight, and mum used to pour salt on the flame to put it out. The kitchen had a gas cooker and a large washtub. We could but rarely have a bath, because this bathtub was covered with a large wide board and in it was put the fuel for the inside open fireplace. So we generally had a wash down. Outside the door was the landing that went from flat to flat and had like an iron bar fence all along the landing with a flight of stairs going down to the ground floor and the outlook was a railway line running parallel to the block of flats. Anyway this was home to my mother in law, her daughter, my son and I for quite a spell. I must admit I settled down fairly well, but it still was a big jump I had taken and I still remained a foreigner, many a time I was reminded of it. I got on with my life for I believed, as my dad did, "never accept charity for it has a way of bouncing back on you." Any way I had a family to support so without hesitation I went to the location of my work, met the owner of the firm and without delay I started my new job a week after I landed in this country.

Chapter Fourteen: Back to Work

Crossly Motors Westminster was where I got my first job. I was a fitter in the workshop repairing RAF engines and maintenance of the vehicles. Although I was there for about two years I felt this was not my kind of work. I was sorry when the slump came to England and as I was the last to be employed in this firm I became the first to be put off. There was no redundancy money in those days so the three of us had to live on the dole till I got another job. The only problem was there was no work about. In these days you signed on for a chance to work and if there was a job, you went for an interview. The pay was at a minimum, so to make ends meet I got a job with a building firm called Holland Hanan Cubit which entailed brick throwing. One man on a lorry would throw three or four bricks and I would catch them and pile them up but what my friends (so called) neglected to tell me was the wearing of gloves. I will always put it down to my accent, but I lasted on this job three days before my hands were literally cut in every place.

Because of this I went locally to a hospital and applied for a job and to my astonishment got one, because I suppose no one else wanted it because there was no future, and the pay was lousy. The hospital was Kings College Hospital. I was a basement porter, probably one of the dirtiest posts one could get, and although the pay was about three pounds a week for a forty-eight hour week it was enough to keep the wolf away from the door. In these days there were coal fires in the wards, so our job was to go to where the fuel was piled, shovel it into a coal truck (a small four wheel barrow) and deliver to each ward where they kept them burning for twenty-four hours (in the winter) for heat. This was vital for there was no central heating. Then of course there was the emptying of dirty bandage bins, mopping etc. After work at five thirty, I went out the hospital gates, up a hill called "Dog Kennel Hill", and down the other side to where we lived.

This was in the days London used to have mist they used to call London Smog. Honestly nearly everyday or night depending on the wind, there would occur a dense fog (or smog) so thick you could not see your hand if you held it in front of your face. If I left home I could not see my way to work and had to find my way by memory. It was the years when people were falling into canals and dying with chest infections and this was all due to burning a certain kind of coal. Our son David was getting older and now going to a school. Money was hard to come by, as wages were so low and my family was certainly on the bottom of the ladder. I must have been a basement porter for at least three years and in this time I think my accent became more British anyway I was accepted as English. Maybe it was because I said little and heard more.

It was beginning to be a hard job to make ends meet then out of the blue the family had a bit of luck for I was offered another job as a casualty porter. Not one of the people working at the hospital wanted the position, because it had to do with removing dead people from the ward then taking them to the morgue. This did not bother me for I was used to the smell of death and touching the departed so I gratefully accepted the upgrade. My pay then went up and I was getting four pounds twelve a week for forty-eight hours work. This also included shift work, 7-3, 3-11 and 11-7 seven days a week. Not a way to get rich, but a very interesting job and one I shall always say I was happiest in. There was something of interest happening on each shift and at the end of the shift I could say I had helped many people.

There was one person that I most definitely would miss seeing, but I must not call him or her a human being. It was the ghost of Kings college hospital for I saw the spectre nearly every time I had a night shift. A lot of people will say I鈥檓 making this up but many of the nurses and staff working at Kings will verify that I am telling the truth. Oh and his name, that is if the ghost was a he was called "Gouly". The spectre and myself got on very well together, maybe this is the reason I have the habit of some times talking to myself. There were however, also moments of sadness in this job. Although I had seen and touched many a dead American soldier, it always made me feel very sad. My friend and myself always went up to the wards to remove a dead patient, put him in the trolley and take him to the chapel of rest. Believe me many of the patients in this hospital ended up there. Nearly all this happened during the night shift, leaving me feeling depressed all the next day. Another surprise arrived out of the blue for we were offered a flat just along the landing from Joyce's mom, number thirteen and so we moved into a place of our own at long last. David was about eight or nine now and Joyce was doing part time work to make ends meet. Then bad luck struck again, David got knocked over by a car at the bottom of Dog Kennel Hill and as if this was bad enough I coughed up blood one day and was diagnosed as having TB. One bit of luck happened at the same time I was told my son David was not too shaken up, I had to give up work and go on a pittance, sick pay. On top of all this my wife was found again to be pregnant. I had many friends at King's Hospital and foremost were some of the consultants. I was lucky enough to have Miss Simpson write a note to the Veterans Administration, saying it was possible I could have picked up this complaint during my army period and after a while they accepted her findings. So I did get a bit of back pay and a pension, for as long as the complaint lasted, and believe me it was like pennies from heaven.

Then the private patients ended and the NHS came into being. Patients did not have to pay a shilling to see the doctor, nor five shillings for an X-Ray. Everything became free and even a visit from the almoners was abandoned because it then became the national health. This meant finances were not involved for every person became entitled to free health care. I was admitted to a ward where they tried to collapse my lung by gas being pumped in, but in the end they put me in a ward and I had what was called a frenetic crush, the crushing of the nerve in the neck to deflate the left lung, and then I was sent to St Leonard's in Hastings for convalescence. My lovely wife visited me many a time while I was there and it was quite an experience. Take a shed, put a roof on it, only put three sides on it and put it on a base so you can turn it around so the wind and rain cannot blow in. Put two beds in it with two patients, place it in the middle of a field with many more and you have plenty of air and with a bit of luck a cure, for there was no other way. We had a doctor called Nodder, because when you went before him he was nodding yes, when all the time he meant no. Anyway he seemed to know his job. All this to the reader sounds as if all my past life was forgotten, far from it for at least once and sometimes two times a month I had to go through some of the worst nightmares possible. It was not as if they were false, for they were real, for I do not nor can I ever forget the killings and sights I've seen. I try but I cannot. Anyway I went down in my spare time for a cup of tea to the local cafe, and when I got back I was reprimanded. This did not upset me at the time because I probably worked harder at the sanatorium hospital and I鈥檇 never pruned so damn many apple trees and rose bushes in all my life. Just before Christmas I was discharged from the sanatorium because they could not do any more for me, and so I went home to my loving wife and son.

About this time David had a shadow on his lung so they sent him to a convent for complete rest. Whatever it was we were not having it and we went twice to see him. The second time we were so disgusted with what we saw we took him immediately home, against all the nun鈥檚 advice. He looked like a plump little man and as it happened he survived this ordeal and not long afterwards all the doctors pronounced him as fit as a fiddle. Joyce was carrying our second child while all this was happening as neither of us realized what was about to occur. Then of course it happened, her waters broke while I was watching a film in a cinema just up the road, so I was hurriedly called, went back home but they had already rushed her to Kings, where an amenity bed in a private room was waiting for her. So David had a little brother who we called Terrence. Not all things had turned out bad. I returned to Kings and carried on my usual chores as casualty porter at Kings College Hospital. During my work at the hospital the National Health was formed and from being a Private Hospital it became part of the new scheme, but one part of the establishment did stay for Private patients. I remember at the time one of the Senior Consultants remarking that once the change over happened every person living near would turn up for the slightest ailment thus depriving the crucial patients of treatment. The very first Monday, there was a line of patients to see the casualty doctor stretching about a quarter of a mile. One old woman had a small splinter in her thumb and another youngish man had sat on a rat that had bit him. Believe it or not one man shyly came in with a curtain ring pushed on to his penis, and it was as big as a balloon. I don't know what happened but maybe he slipped hanging up the curtains, anyway he did look a bit shy when he arrived and was very relieved when he left. At this time there was an influx of refugees starting to arrive in Brixton. Overnight it turned from white to coloured and even today it probably is one of the largest districts of coloured folk.

We bought a brown and white dog for David, a Pekinese, who we called Ching and this gave us more responsibilities, for it meant when we went on holiday, the dog went too. He was part of the family and we loved him very much, especially David. When David was about nine and his bother two, we got a letter from the Council asking us if we would like to move to a new estate out of East Dulwich, London. So talking it over with Joyce we came to the conclusion that it would be a better life for our two sons and it was a house as well, so we agreed on the move. I forget the exact date that we left Cowdray House, but I will admit I had a choking feeling when the day arrived for us to depart. I would even miss the dense fog and especially the work at the hospital for I had made some wonderful friends, but a better life belonged to my family and they would have a lovely garden to play in.

The moving van arrived and so did a letter from the car testing station, asking me to appear a few days later to take my driving test at Lewiston. So with the moving and this news I had a lot to remember. I registered with the police department that I had moved and filled in all the important papers, also telling the American Embassy of my new address. This I presume would have gone into the file of the birth of my two sons' also. The house we moved into was 49 Delabole Road, Merstham. It had two large bedrooms and a small one, a large kitchen and a lounge. It was to be our home for about seven years, the only thing about it was the hard work involved, for it was all clay and dammed hard work to make it into the home we wanted. I don't suppose for a minute that my neighbours knew a yank was living amongst them and it was a very long time before they found out. It was because I found it easier to be like the three wise monkeys, say nothing, see nothing and hear nothing. I then had to find a job and I never went to the labour exchange, only to sign on so I went and asked at a place in Hooley, London and got a job as a postman in a mental hospital. The only thing they issued me with was a key to unlock the ward doors with and to lock them when I came out and of course to sort letters for delivery. Again I found to my amazement that the visitors were madder than the inmates.

In another ward there were those that were cleverer than myself, for they not only drew sick pay but also had three meals a day and were looked after. There was the odd occasion that it could be hazardous for once one of the nurses was killed. It seemed that he was not alert enough and a patient chopped his head nearly clearly off with a shovel. I used to collect bets on the horses and give them to a chap working in the kitchen, but got fed up because I did all the collecting and never made a penny.

So one year during the Grand National, I got all the bets and never passed them on and guess what, not one person was on the Queens horse. It jumped the last fence, well in the lead and would have won but somehow jumped a fence and fell. This left the winner, second and third horses and I'll bet nearly all the bets I had collected I lost on. I probably was the happiest man in the hospital when I checked the takings and found I had to pay about two pounds out of my own pocket. I learned my lesson and knew full well I was lucky, for I could have had a substantial sum to pay out and lost my job as well.

There were two wards in the hospital that were always kept locked for these inmates were dangerous. They were in there for murder and had been pronounced insane. I had to be doubly sure that I locked the door after leaving. On this particular day I had gone inside to hand the mail to the nurse in charge. Looking towards the window I noticed two old women, one standing above the other. The lady standing over the other one began screaming and hitting her over the head with a rolled up paper and the one being hit was cowering down. "You bloody bitch, I鈥檒l kill you", she was shouting. Looking at her face I was damn sure she would have done so if the nurse had not grabbed her. "Help me postman", she said, and I rushed forward to hold the woman on the floor. The nurse left me holding her and went to fetch something to quieten her down. She quickly arrived back to shove what I thought was a needle in her arm. All at once she did not move, so the two of us carried her back to a bed. The sister of the hospital told me afterwards that nearly all the patients in these two wards were always behaving like this and I went away thinking, "what a life". While working at the hospital my lovely wife became pregnant again and this time my third son was born, whom we called Paul. This meant that my eldest son David was about fourteen, Terry seven and then Paul, so there was about seven years difference in my sons and all three were registered at the American Embassy. There might be some time in their lives they would be of duel nationality.

Chapter Fifteen: Hospital Revisited

From the time I left London to move to Merstham I had passed my driving test, so I had a car, not a new one, but it was transport for my work. Every year on our one-week holiday we all went away for the week, every year without fail. The money came from my wages for the holiday week, it was not much but we got by. I worked at Nethern Hospital, Hooley Lane for three years and never once wanted to better myself, for I felt happy with the staff and patients. Then as usual my luck ran out and I found that my T.B. had re-occurred, so I had to leave and this time I was put straight to bed. My darling wife said she would cope with this extra work and my wife's mother moved in with us so the extra money helped out and it was also company for Joyce. In those days T.B. was a killer. It meant full time rest, but I was two times lucky. The first time it meant fresh air, good food and company and complete rest, but the second time it re-occurred the doctors were experimenting with a new drug called Streptomycin, a by-product of Penicillin. I lay in bed for thirty-five days, having an injection every day, seven days a week and this seemed to have done the trick, for after the course I was deemed cured, as were thousands of others. My X-rays appeared clear. There was no redundancy money in those days and a person could work for a firm for years and only get sick pay.

So again I was back on the dole, no money, short of nearly everything, but at least alive. I kept signing on at the labour exchange and drew dole money just enough to live on, for there was no sick pay from the hospital in those days. Time passed and at last I got another job at Forest Stores in Charlwood, Horley, driving as a deliveryman. Not a job to my liking but a job to tide me over, as we had so many bills to pay. This involved driving a van to deliver bread and groceries to outlying places. I started about eight in the morning loading up the van and ended about four in the afternoon. It was a forty-eight hour job, as in those days nearly everyone worked this amount of hours. The money was about ten to twelve pounds a week and in those days it was not too bad a wage. Anyway we got by and had enough money to pay for food and rent.

Barring Kings Hospital, I worked nearly three years in every job before I had to give up through illness, or travel problems. While at Forest Stores two things happened to change our life style. First we had a chance to move and it was a larger house, we also had my wife's mother living with us, because the house had three bedrooms. The second was my job driving the van had been given to the wife of the storeowner, so I had a new council house, but no job. I was not all that sorry that I lost my job, as I was beginning to lose interest in it. I was getting up so damn early in the morning to get to work, for the drive there and back was about twenty miles and I was driving all around the area, so the average mileage would be anywhere between forty to fifty miles a day.

I then applied for a job at Monotype, a Printing Factory at Salford's near Redhill, Surrey. It was for security and I got it providing I could start immediately. There were two places on the work site that you had to be during the daylight hours. East Gate and West Gate. This was to see people in and out and to check their passes. It was again shift work and there were three shifts, 7-3, 3-11 and 11-7, and when on nights their was always two on duty with clocking in points all over the plant, meaning that one man came in from his rounds whilst the other was ready to go out. I remember one Christmas there was a raffle for two stuffed birds and a load of tickets were sold. It was for a good cause for all the money was going to the Red Cross and everyone gave what he could and believe me money was really earned. On the day of the draw, just before the Christmas festivities a crowd gathered for the big draw and number six was picked as the winner. Then as the winner came forward to accept his prize, he was dumb struck and laughter erupted, for to his astonishment the organiser laid two stuffed sparrows in his hand.

Again I stayed three years and felt I had done my duty to the firm, but a better job came along nearer home, so I became Assistant Manager to Blue Star Garage, Gatton Point in Redhill. In these days, there was no redundancy money or bonuses, only a stamp paid for your old age pension and if one was lucky sick pay. The garage sold petrol, oil, tyres and batteries, but it was a busy place and at the time there was a large shed and pumps where we worked from as the garage was being rebuilt. My son David was also working part-time to earn himself a bit of pocket money, for he was not far off being a university student and every penny helped.

Author Hack was the manager at the time, a grand man, but liked his women and gambling. I will again put this job down as one of the best work I鈥檇 done and working with my son David was a bonus. In all my workdays, every year when holiday came about, we'd take the weeks holiday pay and go away for the week without fail. My three sons and wife always looked forward to that week. We did not have much money, but the joy of going to Devon, Cornwall and Lincolnshire was always something to look forward to and the bonus working at the garage was a full tank of petrol to go away with. There was not a year that went by that we did not see the South End Lights and all of my kids can remember as did their mum the happiness for we would be away together and free of the pressures of life.

There were also happy days for me, but as usual all good things come to an end. What I thought would be a job for life became just another dream. My boss was convicted of a felony so lost his job and of course I being second in command should have become manager, but this was not to be. I did all the paperwork, ordered all the petrol and oils, tyres etc., and literally ran the garage for the Blue Star Chain and for all this I was rewarded with the option of being second in command again or leaving. When I found out that the nephew of the manager of another garage was taken in preference to me I very politely told the firm I'd work a weeks notice and to stick their job. I am sure this took the firm by surprise, but I was not prepared to teach another man how to run a garage. One of the customers was so taken back he offered to take me into partnership if I could find another garage. I was so fed up I turned his offer down, but I will always remember his name, a Jewish man living in this country named "Moomy".

I was not very long searching for another job, in fact I only had to go to a firm called Foxborough, an engineering firm and I was immediately hired and the best part was it was an American firm. This was probably the only engineering firm I had ever worked for, although I had seen all these machines in the past. It was quite a boring job, but it had its rewards, the pay was good, especially after three months learning period and also this was the only firm I had ever worked for that had two weeks sick pay and a private pension.

One thing I could never understand, if the same factory had been in the U.S.A. there would have never been any bias over a mans nationality, for if he worked hard and knew his job, he would go up the ladder, but I found that this did not work in this country. Here it is not what you knew, but whom you knew and if you played golf or were a freemason you automatically were made. I worked very hard in my job as a machinist, made the grade and got to know the right people so I gradually crept up the ladder, till at last I became a grade one leading hand setter. But as I fully knew, I was lucky for even then I could hear the sly remarks (as I spoke to a visiting American) he'll get on. No American or any other nationality could ever get any higher than I got and I even trained a supervisor to know my job and be my boss. I was at Foxboro for sixteen years and in this time I made many friends and also some enemies, but never any to worry about. During my working years at this site I had a pain in my stomach so went to see the doctor. He never laid a hand on me, but told me it was a bug going around and sent me home. I was going to bed that night and as I was going up the stairs, it was as if something had kicked me up the backside and I was just able to crawl up the stairs and collapsed on the bed. My wife called the doctor out for there was no 999 call then, so he came and immediately called the ambulance. It was peritonitis, caused by a burst appendix. I remember having an x-ray at Redhill General and I seemed to wait for hours before an anaesthetist was found and I was wheeled down to the operating theatre. But I can remember the last words I uttered as I had the needle, "Thank God".

I was told later that the surgeon was a Mr Ede and he came from Australia. A long time later I came round and was not surprised to see I was next to the door. I had been given so many damn pain killers and with these and blood going into one arm, I should have realised that it's the worst place in the world to be, because as you got better they put you further up the line till at last you were in the recovery room. I was in this ward for about two months and my bed was soaking wet every morning I woke up, but everyday I felt stronger and at long last I ended up in the recovery room, but then I had a relapse. The sister in charge of the ward was on holiday and had not told the junior nurse I was not allowed to drink more than a swallow of water, but the inevitable happened. My wife Joyce and her sister came to visit and brought in some lucazade and of course I drank some and God knows it was a terrible mistake. I was rushed back into the ward next to the door and I was heaving and trying to breathe. The doctor was close at hand and tried his hardest to push a small pipe up my nose into my stomach, but to no avail. I was nearly a goner then he was able to push the pipe into my open mouth and down into my guts and out it all came back through the pipe and all over the bed, but at least I could breath and fell back into a deep sleep.

I was in the hospital another month and to my horror I found I had now inherited a stomach hernia and my God it was big. But the hospital did not do anything about this as the most important thing was the curing of my operation and the hernia could be seen to later. I was a lucky man for most people died after this operation for there is no comparison in today鈥檚 treatment and then. My wife had to go to work to support the family, as money was again short, but we tried our level best without charity to keep the family together. When at last I was able to come home she did night shift work as an aircraft cleaner at Gatwick Airport. Quite a let down from a shorthand typist to a cleaner, but then we always loved each other and would do anything to keep our family happy.

Chapter Sixteen: Retirement and Reflection

I could not possibly tell everything that happened during my stay at Foxboro, it would take another book but the major events have been. David passed all his exams and became a PhD, Terry became a compositor and Paul was a manager at Safeway's Food Stores. All my three sons got married and my wife and I became grandparents. I had my operation on my stomach hernia and to the surgeon's horror and although I was unaware of it, the intestines had grown to the wall of my stomach. Again I survived but looking back on this operation the part I remember most was the way the staff nurse tried to make me into a Christian. She tried so hard she forgot where she was supposed to put the saline drip and when I awoke the following morning one foot was twice the size of the other. I can laugh now, but then I was frightened. In this tale I must mention the regrets and tortures of my mind I have seen and done in so doing maybe it will ease the pain of the past. I very rarely mention it, but I even walk through the open door of a cathedral and smell death and nearly always dream about the War. For you see I know what it is to slay another man and in later years I still ask myself the question, if one of the commandments says, "Thou Shall Not Kill", why was I put in this position at twenty to do just that? So you see I have had a long memory of trying to make sense of life and until the day I pass on I will still have nightmares.

Then after sixteen years at Foxboro I had the chance to take redundancy, they all told me I was a fool, but it had been seventeen years since I had gone back home to the states, and in that time my mum, dad and most of my family had died. So I thought, as I had not had the money to go back to their funerals before, now was the time to at least go back for the last time to see where they were buried. I took the money and my wife and I went for the holiday that at last I could afford. I was in my fifty's when I went and felt very sad that it was happening so late in life, but when we landed at Boston and caught the Grey Hound Express to Maine, it was as if I had never left.

The mountains, lakes and scenery were all the same, but when I stood over my mum and dad鈥檚 grave, where also my youngest sister was buried I went into a fit of crying and looking up above at the cloud filled sky I asked, "Why". I was happily married, had a lovely wife and three lovely boys with grandchildren, so why was I so unhappy. At a rash guess I would say if I was one of the rich men at the time, it would not have mattered so much, for I could have come back when I pleased. I felt at the time my life was in two places, my loved ones in England and my other family in the USA.

The holiday was a huge success and I met about two hundred and thirty relatives, who half of them were like strangers. Then a final kiss, a wave goodbye and we were on our way back to the U.K. In England I started to look around for another job, but soon found that this was going to be difficult, for I was in my middle fifties. No one wanted to hire me because they thought I was past it. Having a small amount of money and bills to pay, we decided to sell our only asset, our council house and move to the sea. All our children now had children of their own, the only problem however was we were moving further away from them and would not see them as often as we liked. About twenty-five to thirty years after residing on the Merstham Estate we moved to Hill Rise Avenue, Lancing, West Sussex, into a bungalow that needed a hell of a lot of doing up. The apple orchard alone at the back had about thirty trees and they all needed pruning, but all in all we settled in even though I got a parking ticket from the local police for parking outside my abode the first night. When I went down to the police station to protest I nearly broke out laughing, when the man behind the desk said, "anything you say, maybe be taken down as evidence", my reply was, "God I haven't killed anyone".

I was there about two months and got a job repairing combination locks for a firm in Worthing. The job was supposed to last three months but I finished it in one, so again I was out of work. I could not it seems get a job that paid the money, so I took whatever came my way. I then started to work as a cleaner at Beechams, the pharmaceutical firm. When after three years and two more moves, I had to leave the firm, but this time because of high blood pressure I suppose this was brought on because of the stench of different smells and the condition of work. So I was not sorry to see the end of this particular job. At this time there was a law passed that a man of sixty did not have to sign on the dole, so as I was too old by Government Standards to be hired I just drew my out of work benefit and anything on the side was a bonus.

We were able to live on my pay but only just, so at the end of the day we sold and bought a park home at Peace Haven, West Sussex. With extra money we had over, we were just able to live fairly comfortably, no luxuries, but at least survival pay. I still had the occasional nightmare, but other than that we were happy. It always seemed in my lifetime I was never meant to go without some mishap and so it happened again. This time I had a mini stroke and one eye became affected, I had what they called the umbrella treatment. They cut the artery in my neck, inserted an object like a closed parasol, opened it up after it passed the blockage and withdrew it, bringing out the cholesterol that had built up within the artery.

Then I was diagnosed as being diabetic and to make matters worse, I had an aneurysm form at the back of my stomach. It was the part of the main artery and I was told, by the doctor that I could die, even if I coughed. So within two weeks I was in the Royal Sussex Hospital and underwent probably the most dreadful operation I'd ever had. They told me I pulled out all the drips from my body and I was literally out of my mind. I not only had visions of modern day horrors, but I relived the most dreadful memories I had tried to push out of my mind. I was again on the boat that took us to Omaha, fifty odd years ago and I could see and hear all my chums talking in whispers all around me. The mind under stress seemed to open up all the little things, like the young teenager beside me who started to cry, while another put his arm around him for comfort. I could hear all over again the briefing we got. "Now soldiers", the voice said, "we will make no noises, or light a cigarette, and anyone found to do so will be put on charge". I can see him now as he smiled, for he knew damn well this would only happen if the person were still alive.

I had said before writing this tale I would never reveal the stress and sufferings that I went through during my war years. I felt it only right that people should know, but I never realized that after telling it in my earlier years, it would come back to haunt me once again. This dream or nightmare went on and on, I could see bodies being tossed up by the tidal water, the screams of pain and for help and all the time the sea became not as water, but blood. I know that if I had the same operation to be performed again, I would rather die. Then it seemed I was over the worst for my dreams became normal and I could talk, see and realize it was over and everyday I got better. One thing I must point out, I had been to all these places and actually seen all that happened, so it really was no surprise to me that it all was coming back. This was because I had bottled it up in my subconscious for many years and in a way I did feel a bit relieved in seeing it again, even as a nightmare.

This meant three times my stomach had been cut from chest over the guts, but it healed up and after a long time, the ambulance took me back to my home and wife in the park home. I cannot carry on this story without coming to an end, that is before I pass on, therefore it鈥檚 about time I summed up my life story and I suppose at the ripe old age of seventy-five, it鈥檚 about time. The saying that a man is born equal is a myth, for in this life it is the parents, who make a child what they grow up to be. If a baby has poor parents, they have less chance to become something in life than if they were born into a wealthy family. This I realize is not always true, but unless other factors occur, then they will never be anything but middle class and for an example take my life.

No one in my family of brothers, sisters and relations can say they are wealthy people and the reason why is luck. They worked hard, but got nowhere, so therefore it is as in England, you work hard, but its not what you know, its who you know and even if you know nothing, your family name becomes your luck. Today priorities mean nothing for a person who can sing, kick a football, or win at sports who can make more in a week than a man who fights to liberate a country. In both cases each will receive a medal. The one who gets his in a game will then be given a medal that is worth thousands, whilst the men who gave their lives to fight for his country gives his wife a medal worth hardly anything, is this justice?

Now we approach Xmas, the year when as a boy we had the best meal of the year and more often than not had a small wooden toy as a gift. The popcorn was used as decoration for the Xmas tree to be eaten after Xmas day. Father Christmas was our idol, not Jesus, but today I can say we should have had at least one lesson a day at school on religion. This I鈥檓 sure would have taught us as children "the rights and wrongs of a decent life". It also would help us to go through our youth, knowing that wars bring nothing but grief and nobody in the end wins. In my opinion the people who hurt the most is the civilians. Sometimes in every story or tale a writer will repeat themselves. He or she does not intend to do this, but they get carried away. If I do please forgive me for I have no reason for doing it. I had no intention of writing this story about my span of life and the traumas that went with it without the help of my grandson Ben, I would never have done so. I now thank him for giving me the help and inspiration for putting pen to paper and telling of my luck in surviving to a ripe old age and to put my ordeals on paper. I have earned and been rewarded a token of ten medals and one citation for the landing on D-Day on Omaha Beach for bravery. I would have received more honours if I had been higher in the ranks. This is not unusual for the front line soldiers are always fighting for their lives. This means there are not many onlookers to report their bravery and thus whatever he does is not seen.

This story has not been told to upset anyone for I believe everyone is entitled to there own views, so therefore some will accept and some will not. Looking back over my war years, I have many times asked the same question. If the good book says, "thou shall not kill", then why was I asked to do so? I killed because I as a young man was taught the ways of war and told kill or be killed and so I carried out my duties to stay alive. I survived but sometimes I wonder how long it will be before I forget the bloody battles I was in. Probably not till the day I pass on. I am then told you and your fellow soldiers have fought and lived to make it a better world to live in, but is it really better? I believe not. I have never been baptised but I am a great believer and I say today that if Christ were to appear among us today, he would be killed again, because man is more interested in money and power than following the good book. As I have said many times, it's a pity that children were not given the bible or its equivalent to read when young, then maybe it might have meant a child would grow up knowing right from wrong. I also believe as I was told by my dad many years ago, there would be a war every twenty years as this would keep the population of the world down, but this has not occurred and this planet has more and more people on it. This means the more humans, the more cars and the more vehicles the bigger becomes the ozone hole.

As always everything must come to an end. I sincerely hope that everyone who has read this story believes in the truth of what I went through, for it certainly is not fiction. The speaking of everyone in this tale may not be exactly word for word, but it is as close to it as I can remember. This I must point out for if I was to sit down to rewrite this tale again, it would be probably be even bloodier than what has been written. I also would like to add, I have gone into hell to tell this tale, but there is a lot more I have left out. In fact I could carry on and on and will end now with the poem I read as a young boy. In Flanders field the Poppy鈥檚 grow, between the crosses row on row and as the poem goes on so I will say "God bless you" and have a good life.

Thank you for reading my story.

CPL W H NELSON
315th Infantry Division
United States Army

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