A Christmas to Remember
In December of 1944, we soldiers of the 66th Infantry Division were in England preparing for the day we would be called into action. That call came suddenly. With scarcely 24 hours’ notice, the division packed up and headed for Southampton, where about 2,000 of us were loaded aboard the troopship SS Leopoldville.
The Leopoldville was a converted Belgian passenger liner, captained and crewed by the Belgian Merchant Marine. She was a gallant old ship that had carried Allied troops to many ports throughout the war zones. After loading, we moved out with a small convoy into the English Channel and headed for France. It was Christmas Eve.
Toward nightfall, when we were a few miles from Cherbourg on the French coast, a torpedo from a German submarine struck the far end of the ship from where our company was quartered. Pandemonium reigned as the explosion reverberated throughout the ship. Our platoon assembled at our assigned space on deck, practicing the abandon-ship drills we had rehearsed earlier and awaiting orders. Rumors of the terrible loss of life at the far end of the ship drifted up to us. The ship was dead in the water and had begun to list, and it was heaving up and down with the high seas. Possibility of rescue at that point seemed remote.
Then, something awesome happened: A soldier standing on deck behind me began singing “The Star-Spangled Banner” in a fine, clear voice. Others joined in, and soon all of us on that part of the ship were singing. I could scarcely sing because of the lump in my throat brought on by this instinctive display of patriotism by these young infantry soldiers, mostly draftees from all corners of America.
I was among the fortunate ones. Shortly before the Leopoldville went down, our escort ship, the destroyer HMS Brilliant, pulled alongside long enough for many of us to leap across as the two ships were bounced together by the heaving seas. Some who attempted the leap missed and fell between the hulls to certain death. Finally, unable to take on more men, the Brilliant backed off and took us to Cherbourg.
Stories of heroism and terror at the stricken end of the ship were related to us as other survivors were brought in by smaller craft that had responded to distress signals for the convoy. Many men who survived the torpedo blast were unable to make it to the rescue vessels or were pulled under as the Leopoldville slid into the deep. She lies there today with memories of those who went down with her.
To this day, when Christmas Eve comes around or when “The Star-Spangled Banner” is played, the same lump wells up in my throat. Tears come to my eyes, and for a moment, a feeling of pride in America replaces the sad memory of the 800 men lost to the torpedo’s blast and the freezing sea.
It truly is one Christmas I will never forget.
-- 1st Lt. Morton Wood Jr. |
