The FReeper Foxhole Remembers The War in Europe - Memoirs (1939-1945)

Mid War Memoirs

Wing Commander Geoffrey Morley-Mower,
RAF reconnaissance pilot
who flew Hurricanes to track Rommel's movement in North Africa

(26 November 1941)

As soon as I was airborne I could see the same scenes of widespread retreat that I saw earlier. The two groups of tanks near the airfield and joined forces and were now fanned out. A large formation of trucks and some 88 mm guns were following them some miles behind. I kept low and skirted the columns. I saw no other aircraft and concentrated on making a detailed situation map of the area. There were a number of smaller groups of enemy vehicles, some stationary, some moving. I wasn’t able to avoid flying directly overhead of the transports, and whenever I did I would see the same reaction: men would throw themselves from their trucks and run. One or two would aim a weapon and fire upwards at me. I saw the occasional mounted machine gun firing in my direction as I passed overhead. I was expecting the familiar white puffs from German light anti-aircraft batteries, but received none. Perhaps it was because they were on the move. Flying low and fast, I didn’t feel at all threatened by the small arms fire. I flew 10 miles north and saw nothing significant, so I turned west, climbing to give myself a broader view of the situation. I had been almost 40 minutes in the area by this time and had done what I thought was a good job. Diving down to my safe height again I saw a perfect target. Five of the German support vehicles were lined up, one behind the other, so all I had to do was rake through the trucks as I flattened out of my dive. They exploded satisfactorily. I didn’t see anyone jump out. I watched the conflagration for a few seconds, then I turned away and headed home.

After landing I switched off and began to unstrap. I slid the hood to the rear and saw the figures running towards me; with my helmet on I couldn’t hear the shouting. By the time I’d reached the ground and had slung the parachute over my shoulder, there were 20 people staring at the airframe and talking excitedly. When I looked, I saw that it had been punctured by hundreds of bullets--the worst area was from behind the cockpit to the tail section. While I was flying, I’d been conscious of my wing tanks and I thought of that as I went to inspect the wings. The tanks were untouched, but there were over 50 bullet holes, all outboard of the tanks toward the tips. Most of the spectators were concentrating on the tail section, which had substantially been destroyed. The technical officer pointed to the wings, “You were lucky not to have your fuel tanks pierced. Do you see those wires? The elevators might have held a bit longer, but look here at your rudder controls--this one has only a few strands left!” I stared at the shredded wires. If I’d attempted a roll as I swept over the airfield, the strain would have been enough to break it off completely. Could I have landed safely without a rudder? No. I suppose the likelihood would have been a loss of control and a crash. I’d had a lucky escape.

Zina Generalova,
Russian woman in the siege of Leningrad

When the bombing started, we had alarm signals or every fifteen or twenty minutes, and it was very hard for me to go to the safe places because being pregnant, I couldn’t run. Very often during the bombings I was in bed, and the bed would be jumping from place to place. We thought that the bombing would stop soon, because in all the newspapers, Russian people were told that we could finish with Hitler in two months. But soon, we heard on the radio that Germans were coming closer and closer to Leningrad. People rushed from small towns into Leningrad because they didn’t want to live under German power. Leningrad became overcrowded, and a lot of people were evacuated to Siberia or other places. Then the Germans surrounded the city and there was no way to escape in any direction. All through September, Leningrad was bombed. We were living in the basement with nineteen other people. It was very, very cold...without light, without water, without heating. That winter was so severe, you cannot imagine. And my husband was becoming so pale with hunger, almost blue; he could not even move anymore. Once a woman told me “What are you doing? Your child will die, so give all the food to your husband and save him. If he survives, he can give you a second baby.” I gave the milk to him once, but then the baby started crying, and I decided that food belonging to the baby must be eaten by her. From the ration cards they gave us, we received 125 grams of bread and 1 pound of meat for a month. Plus each day we were given 1 tablespoon of cereal, and 1 teaspoon of oil. How could people live on that? People were getting so weak, that sometimes if they fell down, they could not get up. I, too, was getting weaker and weaker. I was dying.

By the end of January, people began saying that soon there would be a way out of Leningrad. People would go across Lake Ladoga, which was frozen, and was the only place you could get through the blockade that surrounded the city. We took a train to Lake Ladoga that had a very nice passenger carriage. And it was so warm inside! Every one looked at me and said “You have a baby! How did you save your girl?” When we got to the lake we had to wait until nighttime to cross because the Germans were watching. Also, many trucks full of people were falling into the holes in the ice, because the Germans were bombing the lake. We waited the whole day on the bank. I don’t know how we survived. But when night came we were taken across, and we were safe. My husband and my baby were with the driver, because my husband was already so blue, so sick. When we got to the other side of the lake, hot food was given to us--big loaves of bread. Then we were put into train carriages which were very bad, like the kind used for cattle. When I entered that carriage, I understood that my baby would die. Well, she died on the fourth day. People knocked at the door and asked if there were dead people in this carriage. I covered the baby and gave it to them, and they told me “Mother, take the blanket off. Only bare bodied.” I did as I was told and put the baby on the heap of dead people. My husband told me, “Zina, send me to the hospital. I’m dying.” And so people came and took him to the hospital. I was so weak and tired, that I decided that I would go to our final destination, a small town called Pyatigorsk, and then come back when I was okay and pick him up. But I did not do that. He died at the hospital. People say that such terrible things are forgotten with time. But that cannot be forgotten, never.

August Zorn,
member of the German Reserve Police Battalion 101
who were sent to Poland to liquidate Jews in in the style of the Einsatzgruppen
who took the Jews out to the surrounding forests where they were to be executed by firing squad.
His first victim was a very old man, who could not or would not keep up with his countrymen, because he repeatedly fell and then simply lay there.

I regularly had to lift him up and drag him forward. Thus, I had only reached the execution site when my comrades had already shot their Jews. At the sight of his countrymen who had been shot, my Jew threw himself on the ground and remained lying there. I then cocked my carbine and shot him through the back of the head. Because I was already very upset from the cruel treatment of the Jews during the clearing of the town and was completely in turmoil, I shot too high. The entire back of the skull of my Jew was torn off and the brain exposed. Parts of the skull flew into Sergeant Steinmetz’s face. This was grounds for me, after returning to the truck, to go to the first sergeant and ask for my release. I had become so sick that I simply couldn’t anymore. I was then relieved by the first sergeant.

Tatjana Wassiljewa,
10 year old Russian girl who kept a diary of her experiences

(3 March 1942)

Papa died today. This morning he was ordered to go and see the German command. Mama went with him because he was very weak. I stayed home. It wasn’t long before Mama came back; she was beside herself. She said that they had driven her out of the village headquarters because she had made too much noise. Mama told me the SS man had accused my father of treason and demanded to know where he hid the partisans.

“Father said that was a stupid question.” said Mama. “Because he had hardly been able to move from his bed for months. But the SS man bellowed that he was 100% certain that Father was in league with the partisans. Father stood as tall as he could and said bravely, ‘I am an honest man and I have never lied in my life. But I can assure you that if I really had hidden the partisans, I would never give away their hiding place’. The SS man went bright red and struck Father in the face and across his swollen fingers. I started screaming, ‘Pjotr is my husband! He’s not in league with anyone! He’s dying--look at him! In fact we’re all at the end of our strength.’ Then they threw me out. It’s all over, Tanja. Father will never survive this!”

Mama started to sob. “They’re killing him. It’s all over, all over.” She repeated, glancing out the window. Then she cried, “He’s coming!” and I ran out into the hall to meet him. But as I was opening the door I already heard the clatter of a falling body. Father lay face down on the floor. I wanted to help him up, but he was dead. Papa was determined to come home and he did it right up to the threshold. How ever did he manage it? They had beaten him so badly. Why have I written all of this down? Because it could well be that we all die like Papa and then nobody will know what we had to suffer. Perhaps one day people who are born later, after the war will read this. After all, the war must end sometime.

Vasili Zeitsev,
the Soviet sniper that Heinz Thorwald, head of the German snipers' school tried to kill.
This was the basis for the movie "Enemy At The Gates."

The arrival of the Nazi sniper set us a new task: we had to find him, study his habits and methods, and patiently await the right moment for one, and only one, well-aimed shot. The art of the sniper is distinguished by the fact that whatever experience a lot of people may have, the outcome of an engagement is decided by one sniper. Every time he has to create, to invent, to operate differently. There can be no blue-print for a sniper; a blueprint would be suicide. I knew the style of the Nazi snipers by their fire and camouflage and without any difficulty could tell the experienced snipers from the novices, the cowards from the stubborn, determined enemies. But the character of the head of the school was still a mystery for me. Then something happened. My friend Morozov was killed, and Sheykin wounded, by a rifle with telescopic sights. Morozov and Sheykin had often emerged victorious from the most difficult skirmishes with the enemy. Now there was no doubt. They had come up against the Nazi “super sniper” I was looking for. At dawn I went out with Nikolai Kulikov to the same positions as our comrades had occupied the previous day. Kulikov was also fascinated by this duel. Battle started closely, shells hissed over us, but, glued to our telescopic sights, we kept our eyes on what was happening ahead of us. “There he is! I’ll point him out to you!” suddenly said the political instructor, excitedly. He barely, literally for one second, but carelessly, raised himself above the parapet, but that was enough for the German to hit and wound him. That sort of firing, of course, could only come from an experienced sniper.

Vasili Zeitsev

For a long time I examined the enemy positions, but could not detect his hiding place. From the speed with which he had fired I came to the conclusion that the sniper was somewhere directly ahead of us. I continued to watch. To the left was a tank, out of action, and on the right was a pill-box. Where was he? In the tank? No, an experienced sniper would not take up position there. In the pill box? Not there either--the embrasure was closed. Between the tank and the pill-box, on a stretch of level ground, lay a sheet of iron and a small pile of broken bricks. It had been lying there a long time and we had grown accustomed to its being there. One only had to make a firing slit under the sheet of metal, and then creep up to it during the night. “There’s our viper.” came the quiet voice of Kulikov from his hide-out next to mine. Now came the question of luring even a part of his head into my sights. It was useless trying to do this straight away. Time was needed, but I had been able to study the German’s temperament. He was not going to leave the successful position he had found. We were therefore going to change to change our position.

We worked by night. We were in position by dawn. It grew light quickly and with day-break the battle developed with new intensity. But neither the rumble of guns nor the bursting of shells nor anything else could distract us from the job in hand. The sun rose. Kulikov took a blind shot; we had to rouse the sniper’s curiosity. We had decided to spend the morning waiting, as we might have been given away by the sun on our telescopic sights. After lunch our rifles were in the shade and the sun was shining directly on the German’s position. At the edge of the sheet metal something was glittering: an odd bit of glass or telescopic sights? Kulikov carefully, as only the most experienced can do, began to raise his helmet. The German fired. For a fraction of a second Kulikov rose and screamed. The German believed that he had finally got the Soviet sniper he had been hunting for 4 days, and half raised his head from beneath the sheet of metal. That was what I had been banking on. I took careful aim. The German’s head fell back, and the telescopic sights of his rifle lay motionless, glistening in the sun.

George Wells,
B-25 pilot who holds the record for most bombing missions flown by an American during WWII

In 1943, my crew and I were sent overseas and joined the famous 340th B-25 Bomb Group, one of the three bomb groups in the 47th Bomb Wing. The 340th became known as the “Bridge Busters” for our many pinpoint attacks destroying bridges. Many bombing records were made by our unit.

One of the most notable was when Major Fred Dyer and I established the record for the highest number of bomber missions flown by any US pilot in WWII in one continuous overseas tour. We each flew 102 missions without returning home to the US for a rest. One specific fact that I believe is God related is that I never felt much apprehension in all of my combat experiences. I do not really understand it. My original bombardier, “Red” Reichard, was totally frightened of combat. Whenever he was assigned for the next day, he couldn’t sleep; he perspired, rolled and tossed all night, as he was convinced he would not survive the war. It is amazing that our two philosophies came to play within seconds of each other. On a bombing mission over Anzio, Red Reichard was the lead bombardier in the first flight over the target. I was the lead pilot of the second flight over the target; separation between the two planes was about 50 yards. His plane was hit with an 88 mm shell. The plane exploded and all were killed. Within 2 or 3 seconds, an 88 mm shell went right through one side of my plane’s tail and out the other side. Each of those shells contained a time fuse, as well as a contact fuse on the nose section, which is supposed to explode on contact. His plane exploded; my plane had nothing more than two holes about 6 inches across in the tail section. There was no other damage to the plane and it was completely flyable.

Another bombardier of note in our squadron was Joe Heller, who later became famous when he wrote Catch-22. I received the Silver Star, 2 Distinguished Flying Crosses, the Air Medal with 12 oak-leaf clusters, Joint Services Commendation Medal, European-African-Middle-Eastern Campaign Medal with 7 battle stars, WWII Victory Medal, Air Force Longevity Service Award with 1 silver oak-leaf cluster, and the National Defense Service Medal with 1 bronze star.

Ernest Michel,
Holocaust survivor

I was living in a work camp called Paderborn in northern Germany, cleaning the streets and sewers in town. We were guarded by policemen, but at least we had something to eat and nobody got killed. In February 1943, we were told to get ready because the entire camp was going to be evacuated toward the east. We were put on cattle cars. We spent 5 days and 5 nights in these cars with hardly any food or water, never knowing where we were going. There was no room to sleep or sit down. Several people couldn’t take it and died right in the car; we had to just put them in a corner. Then we came to a place and somebody called out “Oswiecim!”, the Polish word for Auschwitz. There was a peculiar smell in the air. I couldn’t figure out what it was. It was the smell of the gas chambers, but we didn’t know that, of course. We heard noises--dogs barking--and all of a sudden, it became very light. The doors of the car opened up and we heard “Everybody out.” Everywhere there was screaming and yelling: “My son, my father, where are you?” We saw for the first time that we were in a line of 30 or 40 cars, full of old people, young people, children. We were forced into two columns, women on one side, men on the other side. I held on to two of my friends. The screaming and yelling continued as mothers looked for their children, and mothers tried to hold on to their babies. I would never have believed that anything like this could happen to human beings, but this was just the beginning. At the end of the line, an SS man asked us: “How old?” If you were between the ages of 16 and 30, you went to one side. Over 30, you went to the other side. The screaming, the whips, the dogs, that picture will be with me as long as I live. All the girls were gassed that day. But they needed labor, so I was given a chance, together with my other friends, to live. We were taken to a place where they told us to undress. I wasn’t hungry anymore. I was scared for my life.

In the morning we were shorn of hair, then every one of us was tattooed. I was sent to the camp that was used as slave labor for I.G. Farben, a company that was trying to manufacture artificial rubber. We were slaves, but there was a difference between us and the slaves who were brought to America from Africa. They were treated poorly, but at least they were a commodity, so they were given some food. With us it was totally different, because the supply of Jews in Europe was unlimited. The normal food rations in Auschwitz were such that you had approximately half a year until your body gave out--they had figured it out very scientifically. And after that--up the chimney. When you got down to 80, 90 pounds you knew you were about to be taken out and gassed. We didn’t live, we existed. The camp was surrounded by two sets of electrically charged wire. The moment you touched it you were electrocuted. I saw inmates by the hundreds run into that just to get it over with. But I never wanted to. I told myself and the others around me, some of us have got to hang on in order to tell the story of what happened. I was convinced that what was happening was probably one of the worst things that ever happened to any people at any time. To survive under those circumstances took fortitude and a desire to hang on, but it also took plain old dumb luck. And eventually, I got my lucky break. One day I got hit over the head, and I went to the hospital to get taken care of. By some fluke, a man came through the hospital and asked if anyone had good handwriting. Now, in 1939 my father had sent me to take calligraphy lessons. At the time I said “What do I need this for?” And he said “You never know when it could come in handy.” That ended up saving my life.

They sat me down with a logbook and told me what to write: “Weak of body”, “Heart attack”. The Germans kept immaculate records, and of course, nobody was ever gassed. Everybody died of weak body or heart attack. So because I could write neatly I became an official recorder. One of my other duties was to work in the medical area, where Dr. Mengele did his experiments. We were asked to bring in blankets for the women who were being given electric shock in order to find out how much strain a person could take. After the experiments we would bring the women out and put them on the truck that would take them to Birkenau. None of them survived. After a while, death was like breathing to us. Three men attempted to escape and were caught. First, they were tortured, then they were brought to the roll call place. In front of 10,000 inmates, they were brought to the gallows. There was total silence, and one of them shouted out “Don’t forget us!” And then they were killed. At Auschwitz I must have carried more bodies than I can count. But these were men that I had known, and when I saw that they were gone forever, it had a major impact on me. It made me want to live even more. I looked down at them lying there, and I said to them, “You will not be forgotten.”

Hans Goebeler,
German sailor aboard Unterseeboot 505,
which was captured by the Americans

A lookout suddenly shouted the alarm, and a second later there was a gigantic explosion. We had suffered a direct hit by a bomb that nearly tore the boat in half. The airplane that dropped the bomb was itself destroyed by the blast, and it crashed into the ocean next to us. The body of one of the pilots was lying on a part of a wing that was floating nearby, but we didn’t have time to think of him. A lot of people think German U-boat men sank ships without mercy, but if we had a chance, we always tried to help their crews. After all, they are humans too. It was only later in the war, when the airplanes were attacking, that we couldn’t wait around after firing torpedoes. Since the end of the war, I’ve attended some reunions with former enemies. We all cried and hugged each other like brothers. We never hated the Americans; we were just doing our duty, just like the boys on the ships hunting us. The Kapitän gave the order to abandon ship, but the chief petty officer said, “Well, you can do what you want to do, but the technical crew is staying on board to keep her afloat.” Other boats with the same damage might have sunk, but our crew knew what to do, and we did keep her afloat.

Hans Goebeler

That lucky boat, U-505, was the most heavily damaged German submarine ever to get back to base during World War II. We were being depth-charged very closely by some destroyers. All the lights were out, and we had been knocked off our feet by the explosions. They really gave it to us! They fired about 64 depth charges at us. The explosions were the biggest I ever heard. One depth charge was so close it damaged torpedoes stored in the upper deck. Other depth charges jammed our main rudder and diving planes. Soon there was nothing for us to do but surface and abandon ship before she sank for good. The destroyers and planes were giving us hell, firing weapons at our boat. We swam away from the sub as quickly as possible. The planes were shooting the water between us and the boat, chasing us away from U-505. Only the very front of the boat and the top of the conning tower was still above the water. The American skipper must have had some men who were very brave, or very crazy, because they boarded the sub, found the sea strainer cover and closed it. They somehow kept the boat afloat and took it in tow. We were picked up by the destroyers and brought to the carrier, where they locked us in a cage. We were transported to Louisiana and sent to a special POW camp. We worked there in Louisiana on farms and in logging camps until 1945, when we were transferred to Great Britain. We were confined there until December of 1947, when we were finally released.

Oscar Schmoling,
a 16 year old German soldier captured by the Americans

I turned 16 in December of 1943 and was drafted into the Arbeitsdienst, which during the war performed all kinds of jobs, from building barracks to transporting war materials. I was eventually put into an anti-aircraft unit and sent for 6 weeks of training to Linz, Austria. Then I was shipped to Normandy to work in an anti-aircraft unit. We were supposed to replace members who had turned 18 and were to be transferred into the regular army. We arrived outside of Cherbourg on June 4, two days before the invasion. Initially, we just helped doing little things, but after the Americans landed, we blew up our guns and fled into Cherbourg. By that time it didn’t matter what unit we came from--we all became replacements for those who had been killed or wounded. The youngest of us were put to work carrying the wounded to the rear and transporting ammunition to the front. It’s difficult to say what you feel as a 16 year old boy. I didn’t want to be a hero, but I wanted to be strong and do what the others had done. Sometimes I felt like a man, but there were also moments when I felt like a child. One of my brothers had already been killed in Italy. I had another brother in Russia and one in france. My dad had been in WWI, but he was also drafted into the Second World War and served in Poland and Russia. I wanted to be proud, but I could also still feel the child inside me. I didn’t know if I would ever see any of my family again and I even thought I might get killed.

Your attitude would change back and forth. If you had eaten and slept well, you felt more like fighting. But if you were tired, hungry, and thirsty, you thought, “I wish it was over.” I was captured on 23 June 1944. We had just delivered some ammunition to the front. When I came back, planes bombed and strafed us. Everybody was running around. Then their artillery opened up. We never knew exactly where the enemy was. Finally, machine guns and every other kind of weapon you can imagine started firing into our position. We expected the Americans to be in front of us, but they had already encircled us and were coming up from the rear. Our soldiers came in waving white flags and telling us to throw away our weapons. My first thought was, “The war is over. Maybe an armistice has been declared.” There was total confusion. So we threw away our weapons and raised our hands. It all happened so fast. We were marched 3 or 4 miles back to the American rear lines with our hands up. It was hot and we hadn’t had a bath for weeks. We were dirty, hungry and tired. They put us in a big yard, and we were checked for weapons. Some of us lost our watches. I remember one American who was so proud that he had 7 or 8 of our watches on his arm. A rumor circulated that Germans had killed some civilians, and this American officer came up and picked out 10 of us to be shot for revenge. I was one of the 10. He lined us up and told us to face this stone wall. A command was given, and we heard the ammunition being loaded. We knew they were lining up their machine guns. To this day I don’t know whether they were just trying to scare us or whether some higher ranking officer ordered them not to kill us. I just don’t know. But I do know I can’t forget it.

Late War Memoirs

Private David Webster,
a paratrooper in E Company, 506th Regiment of the 101st Airborne Division on the eve of D-Day
This was the unit immortalized in the book and HBO movie "Band of Brothers"

The engines roared louder. Facing down the aisle, the lieutenant yelled “Look, men, look! It’s the fleet!” I turned stiffly to the window and gasped, “Man, oh man.” 500 feet below, spread out for miles on the moonlit sea, were scores of landing barges, destroyers, cruisers and attack transports. They were bearing the infantry to a dawn assault on the shore of Normandy. My shoulders swung away from the window. I stared at the men opposite me in the racketing, vibrating, oil-reeking, vomit-scented darkness. Our lieutenant staggered erect. “Stand up and hook up!” he shouted. How did we ever get into this? we asked ourselves, and why? A stream of tracer bullets floated up at us, speeded up as they passed the windows, and disappeared with a rattling burrat. Someone threw up and cursed as the pilot took evasive action to avoid another flak nest that had opened fire on the planes ahead. Oh God I prayed. Get me out of here. I don’t want to blow up in the sky and burn to death. I want to die fighting. Let’s jump. Let’s go! “Check your equipment!” the lieutenant shouted. I felt the snap fasteners on my leg straps. They were closed tightly and in place. How about the reserve snaps? Also good. And the bellyband? In place. I knew the chest buckle was snapped, for it had been digging into my ribs ever since I had put on my chute. Burrat! Another machine gun burst crackled around the plane. “Sound off for equipment check!” An 88mm shell burst outside with a quick flash and a metallic bang. The blast tilted the plane, throwing men onto the seats. They clutched their way back up again. The plane dived toward the ground. The pilot twisted and raced back up again. I smelled the smoke and oil and puke and gagged on my supper as it rose in my throat. I shook my head and clamped my teeth shut. I was beyond all hope.

A man’s life and death are decided by forces that he cannot fight. The plane slammed up and down, zigzagged, rattled and roared, threw us from side to side with such violence that several of us fell down again, cursing the pilot. It was all I could do to remain upright and not dissolve into a gutless, gibbering blob of fear. Too weak to stand, I clung to my static line with both hands. I felt like crying, screaming, killing myself. This is a night for murder. I thought. God must have planned it that way. “Close up and stand in the door!” the lieutenant yelled. Left foot forward in a lockstep, each man pushed hard against the man before him. The plane bounced up and down and gasped for altitude. I had forgotten all about everything and everybody but Private David K. Webster, who wanted to get out of this plane more than anything else in the world. I had an insane urge to jump. “Go!” the lieutenant shouted. The line of men surged forward. Two men fell down on the threshold. There was a wild, cursing tangle as others fought to lift them and push them out, and then the line moved again, sucked out the door like a stream of water. I shuffled up, glanced down, and stopped, dumbfounded. All I could see was water, miles and miles of water. But this was D-Day and nobody went back to England, and a lot of infantry riding open barges seasick were depending on us to draw the Germans off the causeways and gun batteries. I grabbed both sides of the door and threw myself at the water.

I fell 100 feet in 3 seconds, straight toward a huge flooded area shining in the moonlight. I thought I was going to fall all the way, and yet I could do was gape at the water. Suddenly a giant snapped a whip with me on the end, and my chute popped open, and I found myself swinging wildly in the wind. Twisted in the fall, my risers were unwinding and spinning me around. They pinned my head down with my chin on the top of my rifle case and prevented me from looking up and checking my canopy. I figured that everything was all right, because at least I was floating free in the great silence that always followed the opening shock. For several seconds I seemed to be suspended in the sky, with no downward motion, and then all at once, the whole body of water whirled and rushed up at me. Jesus. I thought. I’m going to drown. I wrenched desperately at my reserve chute’s snap fasteners as the first step in preparing for a water landing. I didn’t even have time to begin the procedure. We had jumped so low--from about 300 feet, instead of the scheduled 700--that while I was still wrenching at the first strap, I saw the water 20 feet below. I’ve had it. I thought. I reached up, grasped all 4 risers, and yanked down hard, to fill the canopy with air and slow my descent. Just before I hit, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of air. I held my breath, expecting to sink over my head and wondering how I was going to escape from my harness underwater--and hit bottom 3 feet down. My chute billowed away from me in the light wind and collapsed on the surface. Immensely relieved at the safe landing, I undid the reserve and discarded it, yanked loose the bellyband, unsnapped the leg straps and chest buckle, detached my rifle case and let the harness sink into the swamp. I was on my own at last.

The silence ended abruptly with a long, ripping burst--burrrrrrrp!--that made me look around in fright. That’s a German machine gun. I told myself. I dropped to my knees in the cold, black water and passively waited to be killed. So this is what war is really like? I couldn’t believe that someone wanted to kill me. What had I done to them? I wanted to go up to them and tell them that I didn’t want to kill anybody, that I thought the whole war was a lot of malarkey. All I ask of the world is to be left alone. You’ve never seen me before. Why do you want to kill me? I shook my head to make sure it was all real, and it was. The bullets were not in my imagination. They were real, and they were seeking me out to kill me. They wanted to kill me right there in the swamp. Then my courage returned when I noticed that the shooting was all quite far away. I rose from the water, assembled my rifle and loaded it, and rammed on my bayonet. I was ready to go. Lost and lonely, wrestling with the greatest fear of my life, I stood bewildered in the middle of a vast lake and looked for help.

They’ve wrecked the invasion. I thought. Where is the drop zone? Where are the other regiments? 6 regiments jumped tonight, and I am alone in Normandy. I shivered convulsively and started to cry, then thought better of it. At least I can try to get out of this swamp before sunrise. But where will I go? Which way is out? I took the compass from my pocket and looked at it. I shook the compass and cursed, and holding it close, saw that it was filled of water. “Son of a bitch.” I hissed, throwing it away. A wise guy probably made a fortune off those compasses in the States. And now men will die because somebody gypped the government. Suddenly the whole thing struck me as ludicrous; all the preparations and briefings, all the maps and sand tables, and for what? Why had they bothered? Instead of a regiment of over 1500 men carefully assembled on a well-defined drop zone, D-Day was one man alone in an old swamp that the Air corps said didn’t exist. From inland came the strange tolling of a church bell. Invasion, invasion. it seemed to clang to the Germans. The invasion will fail. We’ll be rounded up and butchered by the SS. Now a new noise came--the distant rumble of a massed flight of planes--and my spirits rose. The planes were coming towards me. I followed their progress by the fountains of tracer that splashed up at them. Come on down and we’ll get ‘em together! The bullets lit the planes and the shadowy parachutes and the men tumbling out of them like strings of ball bearings and followed the men to the ground. Sick at my stomach, I watched the men swing helplessly in the heavy fire. I wanted to help them, but there was nothing I could do but watch with mounting anger and hate. “Those freaking Krauts!” I whispered. I wanted to kill them all. I threw away my gas mask and adjusted my bag on my back. The box of .30 caliber ammunition I had carried on the jump was dropped at my feet. Where was the machine gun that would use it now? I took my Hawkins mine from a big pants pocket and threw that away too, for there were no tanks in the flooded area. I had to travel light to reach the Germans before dawn...I was alive, and I intended to stay that way.

Sgt. Thomas Valence,
29th division, 116th regiment, A company
One of just 24 survivors from his company to land in Normandy on D-Day

As we came down the ramp we were in water about knee high and we started to do what we were trained to do, that is, move forward and then crouch and fire. One of the problems was we didn’t know what to fire at. I saw some tracers coming from the concrete emplacement, which to me looked mammoth; I didn’t anticipate any gun emplacements being that big. While I attempted to fire at that, I had no concept of what was going on behind me. There was not much to see in front of me except a few houses. The water kept coming in so rapidly and the fellows that I was with were being hit and put out of order so quickly it became a struggle to stay on one’s feet. What I did was to abandon my equipment, which was very heavy and tended to drag us down. In my case I was wearing 2 bandoleers of ammunition across my chest, plus the ammunition in my belt, plus the hand grenades, gas mask and M-1 rifle with the light pack we had on our backs. We weren’t going to accomplish very much and I remember floundering in the water with my hand up in the air, trying to get my balance when I was first shot. I was shot through the left hand and suffered a broken knuckle and shot through the palm of my hand. I remember feeling nothing but a little sting at the time, but I was aware that I was shot. Next to me a fellow in the water named Private Henry G. Witt was rolling over toward me and I remember him very clearly saying “Sergeant, they’re leaving us here to die like rats!” I don’t know why I remember that statement so clearly; I certainly wasn’t thinking the same thing. I didn’t know whether we were being left or not.

It turns out he either had great perception of what was going on or made a statement that coincidentally was factual because it turns out that subsequent waves did not come in behind us as planned originally. I made my way forward as best I could; my rifle jammed; I remember picking up a carbine and got off a couple rounds. Again, we were shooting at something that seemed inconsequential; there was no way that I was going to knock out a German concrete emplacement with a .30 caliber rifle. I was hit several other times: once in the leg, left leg and thigh, which broke a hip bone, and several other times which were not injurious. I remember specifically being hit in the pack a couple times and my chin strap of my helmet was severed apparently by a bullet. I worked my way up to the beach and staggered up against a wall and sort of collapsed there. As a matter of fact I spent the whole day pretty much in that same position. Eventually the bodies of the other guys washed ashore and I was one live body amongst so many of my friends, all of whom were dead and in many cases, very severely blown to pieces. I don’t recall any troops coming in; essentially my part of the invasion had ended, with everyone wiped out as most of the company was. I’ve wondered over the years about one thing: why we, in A Company, were chosen to be the American equivalent to stormtroopers. Was it because we were so highly trained? Was it because we had such potential? Or was it because we were simply expendable?

Robert Dyas,
of the 15th Air Force faced death in each of his 52 missions in a B-24, but this time was saved by a brave P-38 pilot

It sounded as if we were flying through a heavy hail storm. Some of the spent flak was penetrating our ship’s thin aluminum skin. Bomb-bay doors were again opened, our bombardier yelled “Bombs away!” over the intercom, and what was left of the original formation went into a steep, left-turning dive toward the ground. We were still in the air and still flyable. Flak had penetrated most of the ship...hydraulic fluid was spewed all over the deck as several hydraulic lines had been punctured. Suddenly, directly out of the sun and coming straight at us was a single Me-109 with all guns blazing. Our nose gunner was blasting away with his trigger on continuous fire, but our top turret gun was silent, and he should have been shooting at that crazy Hun. The warning light for fire in the number two engine was flashing rapidly and our engine instruments told us number two was “cooked." The Captain ordered that I “feather” the number two and push the fire extinguisher button for that engine, which I did immediately. While we continued to try and get back into our formation, we found that this was impossible due to the decrease in power caused by the dead engine. As our airspeed and altitude diminished, we found ourselves a sitting duck for the Nazi fighters still attacking us from all directions.

Our gunners were firing continuously from all gun positions, except for the top turret, as we were being raked by machine-gun fire from the Hun. The Hun fighters, which had been dogging us all the way and which had been kept at bay by the accuracy of our gunners, abruptly disappeared. Far in the distance we could see the American fighters coming out of the south. They caught up with the slowly retreating Nazi aircraft as we were approaching the loft peaks of the Alps. Suddenly, a P-38 Lightning peeled off his chase after a Me-109 that he was about to shoot down, when he noticed our crippled B-24. Without a second thought for his very possible air victory, he pulled alongside us and pointed to his radio headset trying to have us obtain radio contact. Captain Jawatte shook his head, indicating that we could not respond, trying to explain what he was going to try to attempt. The pilot of the P-38 threw up both of his hands to gesture that he understood and, shoving his throttle ahead, flew around us. He then took up a position directly in front of us, matched our airspeed, and guided us through the treacherous mountain range. the P-38 had more sophisticated radar and sonar equipment aboard than a B-24 and he was better able to judge how far away those jagged and deadly peaks were. If it were not for the P-38’s courageous pilot leading us through the small openings in the Alps, I am sure we would have crashed into the side of the mountains.

General Johannes Steinhoff,
Luftwaffe ace who shot down 176 planes in his 900 missions and was shot down 12 times before nearly dying in a Me-262 crash

When we fought the RAF, it was almost evenly matched in fighters against fighters, so true dogfights were possible. The British were born fighters--very tough, well trained and very sportive. They were brave and I never fought against better pilots at any time during the war, including the Americans. That was the truest test of men and their machines, and only the best survived. Attacking hundreds of B-17 and B-24 bombers with fighter escorts was not what I considered sportive, although I must admit it had many moments of excitement and sheer terror. The Soviets were disciplined, principled and somewhat intelligent, but not well trained in tactics. They were very brave for the most part, but unlike the British and Americans, they would break off combat after only a few minutes and a couple of rotations. The Soviet pilot was for the most part not a born fighter in the air. In fighting the Soviets, we fought an apparatus, not a human being--that was the difference. There was no flexibility in their tactical orientation, no individual freedom of action, and in that way they were a little stupid. If we shot down the leader of a Soviet group, the rest were simply sitting ducks, waiting to be taken out. We fought as a team from the beginning. We had excellent training schools and great combat leaders from the Spanish Civil war, as well as the early campaigns in Poland and the West. We really learned our trade during the Battle of Britain, and that knowledge saved many German lives. Well, the Soviet pilots did get better. In fact, there were some hotshot pilots formed in the famous Red Banner units, which had some of the best pilots in the world. I fought against them in the Crimea and Caucasus later.

General Johannes Steinhoff

But the hardest thing about the Russian Front was the weather, that damned cold. In many cases we had no operations. The cold would freeze all machinery and moving parts. Sometimes we could not fly because the snow was piled so high that we had no way to remove it. It was very poor weather, and navigation was absolutely impossible. This and the cold were the greatest handicaps. That was absolutely the worst time. The second thing, and probably the most important, was the knowledge that if you were shot down or wounded and became a POW--that is if they did not kill you first--you would have it very bad. There was no mutual respect. You were safe only on your side of the lines. The Soviets did not treat our men very well after they were captured, but then again, the Soviets we captured did not always fare well either, which was unfortunate. At least in fighting against the Americans and British, we understood that there was a similar culture. The Americans and British treated us as gentlemen, as we did our enemy pilots when they were captured. But with the Soviets, this was unheard of. There was no mutual respect. It was a totally different war...

I was shot down 12 times; in the 13th incident I almost died from a crash. I only bailed out once. I never trusted the parachutes; I always landed my damaged planes, hoping not to get bounced on the way down when I lost power. I was wounded only once lightly, but never seriously until my crash. I was taking off in formation on April 18, 1945 for my 900th mission. Our airfield had suffered some damaged over the last several days due to Allied bombing and as my jet was picking up speed, the let undercarriage struck a poorly patched crater. I lost the wheel, and the plane jumped perhaps a meter into the air, so I tried to raise the remaining right wheel. I was too low to abort takeoff, and my speed had not increased enough to facilitate takeoff. I knew as I came toward the end of the runway that I was going to crash. The 262 hit with a great thump, then a fire broke out in the cockpit as it skidded to a stop. I tried to unfasten my belts when an explosion rocked the plane, and I felt an intense heat. My rockets had exploded, and the fuel was burning me alive. I remember jumping out, flames all around me, and I fell down and began to roll. The explosions continued, and the concussion was deafening, knocking me down as I tried to get up and run away. I cannot describe the pain. Even the surgeons had no idea that I would survive, but I tricked them.

Lt. Paul Fussell,
a 19 year-old US Army infantry officer during the Battle of the Bulge, cold and afraid in his foxhole

The Germans attacked all along our Alsace line on New Year's Day, 1945. The Americans retreated everywhere. Whole battalions were wiped out. Many men were captured. Quite a few deserted. The roads were icy and it was snowing much of the time. When the snow let up, the temperature dropped to -20º. Pushed back and back, by January 20th F Company was in the town of Niederbronn-les-Bains, which we abandoned at night for a 9 mile march in a raging snowstorm back to the River Moder. There we set up what we hoped would be a final defensive line between the towns of Mulhausen and Bischoltz. The retreat in the snow and ice was a nightmare: tanks and trucks skidded off the road and had to be abandoned--to the Germans. We had a day or so to slow them down and they pursued us, and at one point someone laid out on the road a number of inverted dinner plates, hoping that when covered with a bit of snow they'd resemble anti-tank mines and cause a brief German delay.

While we were struggling back, our positions along the Moder were being prepared by engineers. The ground being too solid for digging, they used blocks of TNT to blast out 3 and 4 man holes roofed with railroad ties. Three feet of snow quickly covered these emergency emplacements, leaving nothing visible from the front but a dark slit 2 inches high and 10 inches long. Through such a slit for the next 5 days I watched the Germans on the other side of the river getting ready to attack us. The only entrance was through a slippery slide at the rear, which became increasingly nasty because there we had to throw out our excrement, deposited first on a spread-out K-ration carton. To appear outside of the hole in daylight was to be shot instantly. What an attack would mean for us was too frightening to dwell on. We could fire only forward, out of the slit, and only one man could fire at a time. If the German attack were to come during snow or fog, we couldn't fire effectively at all. All the Germans would have to do would be to approach invisibly from a flank and toss in a grenade, either through the slit or the rear entrance. At night one of us was always on guard at the slit. It was terribly cold. The only warmth we had came from burning the K-ration cartons and lighting the little heat tablets we warmed coffee over. We tried various expedients to survive the cold: there was disagreement over whether sleeping with the hands in the crotch or the armpits was the best way to avoid frostbite. On January 25th the attack came. It followed a really terrifying artillery preparation. We cowered at the bottom of the hole, dreading a direct hit, and dreading equally a German attack during the barrage, which would catch us utterly unprepared to repel it. The troops of the 6th SS Mountain Division soon indicated that they were the ones against us. Stimulated by schnapps, shouting slogans and abuse, they swarmed toward us--to be torn to pieces by our machine guns.

But thank God, the axis of the attack was 500 yards to our right, and our hole remained unassaulted. On the right the SS burst through our line, capturing a town behind, from which they were finally ejected after a brutal struggle. These SS men were the best troops we ever fought. They behaved as if they actually believed that their wounds and deaths might make a difference in the outcome of the war. The SS attacks having failed, with corpses left all over our snow-covered hills, in our hole we resumed our quiet life of watchful terror until we were relieved by another battalion. Throughout, our problem had been less how to help win the war than how to survive the cold. The war was being won, actually, by the Russians, who at this moment were moving toward us, even if they were a thousand miles to the east. They seemed not yet likely to appear at any moment coming over the mountains we were facing, wearing fur caps with red stars on the front and brandishing submachine guns. When we were finally back in a town behind the lines, washing and shaving for the first time in weeks, I came down with pneumonia, and with a temperature of 104º was evacuated to a hospital. It was warm and quiet and safe, and I hoped I'd never have to return to the line. But I did, and the winter war went on.

Weika Koenraad,
a young Dutch girl whose town was liberated by the Allies in 1945

I was just a little girl during the Second World War, born in Haarlem Holland, in 1937. The Netherlands was occupied by the Germans in 1940, and the scariest thought in my mind were soldiers, with black shiny boots and a gun; nobody ever smiled, there was nothing to smile about. The games we played as children were war games. We had built a play hospital and I was the nurse. My friends were wounded and brought to the hospital. There were no toys. The most severe winter in decades was the winter in 1944. The southern part of the Netherlands was already free, but the western part which is above the river Rhine was still occupied. Because of the weather, there was nothing more to eat. Everybody was hungry and our daily meal consisted of sugar beets, which we now feed to the hogs, and tulip bulbs. I still remember the taste of tulip bulbs. Suddenly there was spring, and the bad weather was gone, and it was May 1945. Big tanks rolled through the streets and for the very first time I saw people who smiled and waved to us. They were soldiers! It was like a miracle--they were supposed to be scary, and now they were friendly and smiled. They threw chocolate bars and chewing gum into the crowd, something we had never seen or tasted before. Every time I meet somebody who has served in the Second World War, I give him a hug and say, “Thanks to you we are alive.”

Raymond Daum,
US Army photographer who was sent to rescue priceless Beethoven artifacts at various locations in Germany

I served in the Army as a motion picture combat cameraman, assigned to fighting units in the ETO, mainly the ground forces of infantry divisions. In one armored attack about the time of the Battle of the Bulge, I was wounded as I got in the way of German artillery and was whacked by an 88 shell that pierced my helmet as I knelt to reload my camera.

As the Allied armies penetrated deeper into Germany, Göring, who was infamous for his looting of Europe’s artistic treasures, dispatched orders to all museums to disperse their collections so that they would not be looted by the invading armies. One of these historical sites was the Beethoven-Haus in Bonn. This was the birthplace of the composer and had been converted into a museum. The museum collection included 3 pianos owned by Beethoven, several musical instruments and oil portraits important to him in his life. Just months before, German transports had appeared at the museum, where the treasures were loaded and the convoy, headed by Dr. Wildemann, travelled to various rural sites in the Rhineland Province. I caught the scenes in my camera’s viewfinder as we approached each site on Wildemann’s list. Then they would come out--the crates, the trunks, precious art works, and boxes of musical manuscripts. Dr. Wildemann asked me to hand-carry a huge bundle of autographed music manuscripts--the originals and priceless! The manuscripts for the piano sonatas were present, including “Moonlight Sonata” and scores of the Pastoral and 9th Symphonies!

We finally reached Bonn, which was like a ghost town with blocks and blocks of incendiary ruins. In filming inside and outside the museum, I was shown, by the caretaker, the room upstairs where Beethoven was born in 1770. One question we all asked ourselves: How was it possible that this little 200 year old tinder-box-building had survived the severe and prolonged incendiary bombings? The German caretaker’s story was one of the most amazing to come out of the war. Each night, as the incendiary bombs began to fall, he would crawl up to the roof of the house with a garden hose and he would douse the walls and roof all night long until the bombing had ceased, to keep the wood and plaster as wet as possible, for the structure to survive another night. The experience proved that the only glory of war is in the hope of cooperation between the enemies afterward. At Beethoven-Haus, conquerors and the conquered had joined hands to preserve mankind’s priceless heritage and culture. Additional Sources:

fcit.coedu.usf.edu
www.denktag.de
www.yad-vashem.org
www.stukas.freeservers.com
www.fatherryan.org
www.menziesvirtualmuseum.org.au
www.wssob.com
www.valourandhorror.com
timewitnesses.org
www.nzhistory.net.nz
www.skalman.nu
www.vflintham.demon.co.uk
benito.virtualave.net
volkerradke.looplab.org
sbl.salk.edu
www.rrz.uni-hamburg.de
www.arts.auckland.ac.nz
www.ubootwaffe.homestead.com
www.milmag.com
www.afno-is.eu.odedodea.edu
images.amazon.com
www.army.mil
search.eb.com
www.1id.army.mil
www.theatlantic.com
www.mecri.org
www.lexikon-der-wehrmacht.de
www.nt.net
www.cyberus.ca
www.fuerboeck.at

'This is a collection of WWII memoirs that I think are worth reading because they present WWII in a way no author could ever do. These people were in the places you've read about and personally witnessed the events you've only seen in pictures.

These are their stories, their memories, and their lives. '

-- Brandon Kyle Leniart

Veterans Day 2003
PDN News Desk ^ comwatch

Veterans Day is right around the corner.

It only takes a few minutes to write a letter to the kids and share a story of why you served.

If you aren't a Veteran then share your thoughts on why it is important to remember our Veterans on Veterans Day.

It's an opportunity for us to support our troops, our country and show appreciations for our local veterans. It's another way to counter the Anti-Iraq campaign propaganda. Would you like to help? Are there any VetsCoR folks on the Left Coast? We have a school project that everyone can help with too, no matter where you live. See the end of this post for details.

Three Northern California events have been scheduled and we need help with each:

Friday evening - November 7th Veterans in School (An Evening of Living History, A Veterans Day Ice Cream Social)

http://www.patriotwatch.com/V-Day2003c.htm

Saturday - 11 a.m. November 8th: Veterans Day Parade (PDN & Friends parade entry)

http://www.patriotwatch.com/V-Day2003b.htm

Sunday November 9, 2003 Noon to 3:00 PM Support our Troops & Veterans Rally prior to Youth Symphony Concert

http://www.patriotwatch.com/V-Day2003d.htm

Each of the WebPages above have a link to e-mail a confirmation of your interest and desire to volunteer. These are family events and everyone is welcome to pitch in. We'd really appreciate hearing from you directly via each these specific links. This way, we can keep you posted on only those projects you want to participate in.

Veterans in School - How you can help if you're not close enough to participate directly. If you are a veteran, share a story of your own with the children. If you have family serving in the military, tell them why it's important that we all support them. Everyone can thank them for having this special event. Keep in mind that there are elementary school kids.

Help us by passing this message around to other Veteran's groups. I have introduced VetsCoR and FreeperFoxhole to a number of school teachers. These living history lessons go a long way to inspire patriotism in our youth. Lets see if we can rally America and give these youngsters enough to read for may weeks and months ahead. If we can, we'll help spread it to other schools as well.

Click this link to send an email to the students.

I apologize for the length of today's Foxhole, but as I went through these memoirs, I just couldn't make up my mind which ones to leave out.

Dear Lord, watch over our Brothers and Sisters who remain in harms way, where ever they are around the globe. Grant them Thy blessing, that they be protected from harm, and may they be safely, and swiftly, returned to their loved ones. AMEN

G'morning people .... :)
And, SAM, Thanks for the memories .... good post .... :)
±

"The Era of Osama lasted about an hour, from the time the first plane hit the tower to the moment the General Militia of Flight 93 reported for duty."
Toward FREEDOM

.......FALL IN to the FReeper Foxhole!

.......Good Wednesday Morning Everyone!

If you would like added to our ping list let us know.

Good morning SAM.

Don't worry about it being a long thread, we can handle it.

I plan to print it out and read it throughout the morning, noon and night....

LOL. Not really, just the morning. :)

Good morning, Snippy and everyone at the Freeper Foxhole.

Be sure to update your anti-virus software and get the latest critical updates for your computer.

Good morning, all. Fighting wars is like fighting forest fires. Sometimes you have to burn ahead lest the whole forest perish. Something we didn't learn until Hiroshima. It may be time to burn ahead where the fire is raging, and I'm not talking about southern California.

When you hear the Shepherd's voice
As He calls you, 'Come to Me',
In your life make Him your choice
And a faithful follower be. —Hess

You don't need to know where you're going if you're following the Shepherd.

I did it. Read the whole thing!

I had to save the last three until I was at work. It was worth it SAM. What wonderful stories. Most sad and terrifying but first hand accounts of what it was like to be there and amazingly live through it all. What horrible memories to carry with you but blessed to be able to tell that story.

Thank you SAM. This was a great read.

Good morning Neil.

Good morning EGC, thanks for the reminder.

I wish we would fight ahead, I think it would save a lot of grief and expedite the whole matter in our favor.

Good morning Dave.

Good morning Mayor.

Awesome piece of work putting that together. Saved to disc. Back later on with comments.

Today's classic warship, USS Louisiana (BB-19)

Connecticut class battleship

displacement. 16,000 t.
length. 456'4'
beam. 76'10"
draft. 24'6"
speed. 18 k.
complement. 827
armament. 4 12", 8 8", 12 7", 20 3", 12 3-pdrs., 2 1-pdrs., 4 .30 cal. G.g., 4 21" tt.

The USS Louisiana (BB-19) was laid down 7 February 1903 by the Newport News Shipbuilding & Dry Dock Co., Newport News, Va.; launched 27 August 1904; sponsored by Miss Juanita LaLande!(sic) and commissioned 2 June 1906, Capt. Albert R. Couden in command.

Following her shakedown off the New England coast, Louisiana sailed 15 September for Havana in response to an appeal by Cuban President Estrado Palma for American help in suppressing an insurrection. The new battleship carried a peace commission, comprised of Secretary of War William H. Taft and Assistant Secretary of State Robert Bacon, which arranged for a provisional government of the island. Louisiana stood by while this government was set up and then returned the commission to Fortress Monroe, Va.

Louisiana embarked President Theodore Roosevelt at Piney Point, Md., 8 November for a cruise to Panama to inspect work on the construction of the Panama Canal Returning she briefly visited Puerto Rico, where the President studied the administration structure of the Commonwealth's government, before debarking him at Piney Point 26 November.

During 1906 and 1907, Louisiana visited New Orleans, Havana, and Norfolk; maneuvered out of Guantanamo Bay: and engaged in battle practice along the New England coast. On 16 December 1907 she departed Hampton Roads as one of the 16 battleships President Theodore Roosevelt sent on a voyage around the world. The cruise of the "Great White Fleet" deterred hostile actions toward the United States by other countries, primarily Japan; raised American prestige as a global naval power; and impressed upon Congress the importance of a strong Navy and a thriving merchant fleet. During the circumnavigation, Louisiana visited Port-of-Spain; Rio de Janeiro; Junta Arenas and Valparaiso, Chile; Callao, Peru; San Diego and San Francisco; Honolulu; Auckland; Sydney; Tokyo; Manila; Amey, China; Hong Kong; Manila; Columbo; Suez and Port Said; Smyrna; and Gibraltar before returning home 22 February 1909.

Overhauled following her return to the United States, Louisiana was fitted with the then-new "cage" masts. Louisiana joined the 2d Division of the Atlantic Fleet 1 November 1910 and sailed for European waters to visit English and French ports before returning to the United States in the spring of 1911. During the summer, she paid formal visits to the north European ports of Copenhagen; Tralhafuet, Sweden; Kronatadt, Finland; and Kiel, Germany, and was inspected by the Kings of Denmark and Sweden, the Kaiser, and the Tsar.

Between 6 July 1913 and 24 September 1915 Louisiana made three voyages from east coast ports to Mexican waters. On the first (6 July to 29 December 1913), she stood by to protect American lives and property and to help enforce both the Monroe Doctrine and the arms embargo which had been established to discourage further revolutionary disturbances In Mexico. Her second voyage (14 April to 8 August 1914) came at a time when tension between Mexico and the United States was at its peak during the shelling and occupation of Vera Cruz. Louisiana sailed a third time for Mexican waters to protect American interests again from 17 August to 24 September 1915.

Returning from the Gulf of Mexico, Louisiana was placed in reserve at Norfolk and, until the United States entered World War I, she served as a training ship for midshipmen and naval militiamen on summer cruises.

During World War I, Louisiana was assigned as a gunnery and engineering training ship, cruising off the middle Atlantic coast until 25 September 1918. At that time she became one of the escorts for a convoy to Halifax. Beginning 24 December, she saw duty as a troop transport, making four voyages to Brest, France, to carry troops back to the United States.

Following her final trip back from Brest, Louisiana reported to the Philadelphia Navy Yard, where She decommissioned 20 October 1920 and was sold for scrap 1 November 1923.

On This Day In History

Birthdates which occurred on October 29:
1740 James Boswell Scotland, Samuel Johnson's biographer
1859 Charles Ebbets (namesake of Ebbets Field, Brooklyn)
1873 Guillermo Valencia Colombia, poet/translator/statesman
1875 Marie queen consort of Ferdinand I of Romania (1914-27)
1884 Bela Lugosi horror actor (Dracula, Body Snatcher)
1891 Fanny Brice singing comedienne (Ziegeld Follies, Baby Snooks)
1897 Hope Emerson Hawarden Iowa, actress (I Married Joan, Peter Gunn)
1897 Paul Joseph Goebbels Nazi propagandist
1906 Fredric Brown American writer (US Army in Transition)
1910 Alfred J Ayer England, Neopositivist philosopher/logician
1917 Henry Carlsson Sweden, soccer (Olympic-gold-1948)
1921 Ed Kemmer Reading Pa, actor (Buzz Corey-Space Patrol)
1921 William Henry Mauldin US, political cartoonist (Pulitzer-1945, 59)
1922 Neal Hefti Hastings Neb, orch leader (Kate Smith Show)
1925 Geraldine Brooks NYC, actr (Faraday & Co, Dumplings, Act of Murder)
1926 Jon(athan Stewart) Vickers Prince Albert, Canada, tenor
1934 Robert E Hughes NYC, orch leader (Rich Little Show)
1937 Michael Ponti Freiburg Germany, pianist (Boston Competition 1964)
1945 Melba Moore NYC, singer/actress (Ellis Island)
1947 Richard Dreyfuss Brooklyn NY, actor (Jaws, Nuts)
1948 Kate Jackson Birmingham Ala, actress (Rookies, Charlie's Angels)
1953 Denis Potvin Ottawa Ontario, NY Islander defenseman (Norris trophy)
1959 Jesse Barfield Ill, outfielder (Blue Jays, Yankees, 1986 HR leader)
1960 Finola Hughes actress (Anna-General Hospital, Staying Alive)
1961 Randy Jackson rocker (Jacksons-ABC)
1965 Steven Sweet Wadsworth Ohio, heavy metal artist (Warrant-Cherry Pie)
1971 Winona Ryder [Horowitz], Mn, actress (Heathers, Edward Scissorhand)

Deaths which occurred on October 29:
0490 Petrus Mongus, patriarch of Alexandria, dies
1618 Sir Walter Raleigh is executed in London
1885 George B McClellan Union army general, dies at 58
1901 Leon Czolcosz assassin of President McKinley, is executed
1911 Joseph Pulitzer American newspaperman, dies in Charleston, SC
1947 Frances Cleveland Preston former 1st lady, dies in Balt at 83
1957 Louis B Mayer MGM producer, dies at 71
1963 Adolphe Menjou actor (Front Page, Star is Born), dies at 73
1971 Duane Allman dies at 24 in a motorcycle accident
1975 John Scott Trotter orch leader (George Gobel Show), dies at 67
1981 William O Walker publisher of the Cleveland Call Post, dies at 85
1987 Kamal El Mallakh dies at 57
1987 Woody Herman bandleader/composer (Thundering Herds), dies at 74
1990 William French Smith attorney general (1980), dies at 73 from cancer

Reported: MISSING in ACTION

1963 PITZER DANIEL L.---FAIRVIEW WV.
[11/11/67 RELEASED IN CAMBODIA, DECEASED
1963 ROWE JAMES N.---MC ALLEN TX.
[12/31/68 ESCAPED, KILLED IN PHILLIPINE INSIDENT 04/21/89]
1963 VERSACE HUMBERTO R.---NORFOLK VA.
[09/22/65 POSS EXECUTED PRG DIC LIST]
1968 BEZOLD STEVEN---MC KITTRICK MO.
1968 HARRISON DONALD L.---CHAMBLEE GA
1968 HUNTER JAMES D.---PORTLAND TN.
1971 OAKLEY LINUS LABIN---CARTHAGE AR.
1972 SULLIVAN JAMES E.---HULL MA.
["DEAD, HANOI RADIO REMAINS RETURNED 08/14/85"]

POW / MIA Data & Bios supplied by
the P.O.W. NETWORK. Skidmore, MO. USA.

On this day...
539 -BC- Babylon falls to Cyrus the Great of Persia
1618 Sir Walter Raleigh was beheaded in London. He had been charged with plotting against King James I.
1682 William Penn lands in what will become Pennsylvania
1727 Severe earthquake in New England
1787 The opera "Don Giovanni" is produced (Prague)
1811 1st Ohio River steamboat leaves Pittsburgh for New Orleans
1813 The Demologos, the first steam-powered warship, launched in New York City.
1833 1st US college fraternity to have a fraternity house founded
1863 Intl Comm of the Red Cross founded (Nobel 1917, 1944, 1963)
1867 Mail packets "Rhone" & "Wye" capsizes off St Thomas Virgin Islands
1889 NY Giants (NL) beat Brooklyn (AA) in world series 6 games to 3
1889 Stanley Park dedicated in Vancouver, BC
1894 1st election of the Hawaiian Republic
1904 1st intercity trucking service (Colorado City & Snyder, Texas)
1920 Edward Barrow named Yankee general manager
1923 "Runnin' Wild" (introducing the Charleston) opens on Broadway
1923 Turkey proclaimed a republic (National Day)
1924 "Dixie to Broadway," opens at Broadhurst Theater
1927 Russian archaeologist Peter Kozloff apparently uncovers the tomb of Genghis Khan in the Gobi Desert, a claim still in dispute
1929 "Black Tuesday," Stock Market crashes triggers "Great Depression"
1930 1st football game in eastern Canada played under floodlights
1932 French liner Normandie is launched
1939 Golden Gate International Exposition closes (1st closure)
1940 Sec of War Henry L Stimson drew 1st number-158-in 1st peacetime military draft in US history
1942 16,000 Jews killed in Pinsk Russia
1942 Alaska highway completed
1942 Branch Rickey named president/GM of Brooklyn Dodgers
1942 Nazis murder 16,000 Jewish in Pinsk, Soviet Union
1943 3 allied officers escape camp Stalag Luft 3
1945 1st ball point pen goes on sale, 57 years after it was patented
1950 Wally Triplett avgs 735 yards on 3 kickoff returns
1954 Colonel Nasser disbands Moslem Brothership
1956 Chet Huntley & David Brinkley, NBC News, team up
1956 IDF crosses Egyptian territory in the Sinai
1956 International zone of Tangier returned to Morocco
1956 Israeli paratroopers drop into the Sinai to open Straits of Tiran
1957 A hand grenade explodes in Israel's Knesset (Parliament)
1958 Boris Pasternak refuses Nobel prize for literature
1959 10 nation soccer league to play all games on NY Randalls Is, announced
1960 Chartered C46 carrying Cal State's football team crashes, kills 16
1960 Muhammad Ali's (Cassius Clay's) 1st professional fight, beats Tunney Hunsaker in 6
1963 "Meet the Beatles" booklet is published
1964 Star of India & other jewels are stolen in NY
1964 Town of Karmiel founded in the Galilee
1966 National Organization of Women founded
1972 Don Cockroft of Cleveland Browns kicks 57-yard field goal
1975 Yorkshire Ripper Peter Sutcliffer kills first
1979 Billy Martin fired as Yankee manager (2nd time)
1982 Car maker John DeLorean indicted for drug trafficking, later acquitted
1982 Paul McCartney & Michael Jackson release "The Girl is Mine"
1984 Orlando Pizzolato (2:14:53) & Greta Weitz (2:29:30) win NY Marathon
1987 Thomas Hearns wins unprecidented 4th different weight boxing title
1988 2,000 US anti-abortion protesters arrested for blocking clinics
1988 China announces a herbal male contraceptive
1988 Jim Elliott (US) begins 24-hr paced outdoor race for 548.9 mi
1988 Soviets 1st scheduled shuttle launch (postponed)
1989 NYC MTA opens the 63rd street extension to the subway
1990 30 die in a (5.7) earthquake in Algeria
1992 Alger Hiss said Russia had cleared him of the charge of being a Communist spy that sent him to prison for four years and helped launch Richard Nixon's political career.
1998 Sen. John Glenn, D-Ohio, who in 1962 became the first U.S. astronaut to orbit the Earth,, roared back into space aboard the shuttle Discovery, retracing the trail he'd blazed for America's astronauts 36 years earlier. At 77, he was the oldest person to travel in space.(payback for saving willards ass)

Holidays
Note: Some Holidays are only applicable on a given "day of the week"

Cyprus : National Day
New Zealand : Labour Day-last Monday in October (Monday)
Turkey : Republic Day (1923)
Biographies are Beautiful Day
National Magic Week (Day 5)
Cooking, Crafts and Home Books Month
National Dessert Month

Religious Observances
Christian : St James Hannington, bishop of Eastern Equatorial Africa
Christian : Commemoration of St Theuderius, or Chef, abbot
Ang : Com of James Hannington, bishop of E Equatorial Afr & companions

Religious History
1869 Birth of E. O. Sellers, American Baptist musician. At various times the song evangelist for R.A. Torrey, Gipsy Smith, A.C. Dixon and J. Wilbur Chapman, Sellers is remembered today for his two original hymns: "Thy Word Have I Hid in My Heart" and "Wonderful, Wonderful Jesus."
1870 Birth of Juji Nakada, Japanese Christian evangelist. In 1901 he influenced Charles and Lettie Cowman (authors of "Streams in the Desert") to come to Japan, where in 1910 they incorporated the Oriental Missions Society.
1889 New York City missions pioneer Albert B. Simpson, 46, incorporated the International Missionary Alliance. Combined in 1897 with a group formerly also organized by Simpson, it became the Christian and Missionary Alliance, one of the most missions-minded denominations in modern American Protestantism.
1919 The Apostolic Christian Association was incorporated in Atlanta, Georgia. It later merged with what is now the International Pentecostal Church of Christ, headquartered in London, Ohio.
1955 American missionary Jim Elliot, 28, wrote in his journal: 'First time I ever saw an Auca--1500' is a long ways if you're looking out of an airplane.' Ten weeks later, on Jan 8, 1956, Jim and four other missionaries would be speared to death by these same Indians they had come to Ecuador in hopes of evangelizing.

Source: William D. Blake. ALMANAC OF THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. Minneapolis: Bethany House, 1987.

Thought for the day :
"Faith will not die while seed catalogs are printed."

Did you ever wonder...
Why is it that when you transport something by car, it's called a shipment, but when you transport something by ship, it's called cargo?

Murphys Law of the day...(Abbott's Admonitions)
1 If you have to ask, you're not entitled to know.
2 If you don't like the answer, you shouldn't have asked the question.

Astoundinf fact #386,987,665,710.6...
The first fossilized specimen of Austalopithecus afarenisis was named Lucy after the palentologists' favorite song, Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds, by the Beatles.