Tank Driver: With the 11th Armored from the Battle of the Bulge to VE Day
192
Tank Driver: With the 11th Armored from the Battle of the Bulge to VE Day
192Paperback
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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780253014979 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Indiana University Press |
| Publication date: | 10/21/2014 |
| Pages: | 192 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.10(w) x 9.20(h) x 0.50(d) |
| Age Range: | 18 Years |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Tank Driver
With the 11th Armored from the Battle of the Bulge to VE Day
By J. Ted Hartman
Indiana University Press
Copyright © 2003 J. Ted HartmanAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-253-01497-9
CHAPTER 1
The Army Beckons
In 1943, I was a high school senior in Ames, Iowa. The world was at war and the United States was deeply involved in that war. It was an accepted fact that every male would be called into one of the armed services upon reaching the age of 18. Early that year, all of the boys in my class were invited to take the A-12/V-12 examination given by the army and the navy. When those of us taking the examination scored above a certain level, we would qualify to be sent to a university by the armed service of our choice and would avoid the draft.
Those preferring the navy would enlist in that branch and be enrolled directly into the V-12 program at designated universities across the nation. Those choosing the army were to enlist and be assured of at least six months of university work before being called to active duty. Once activated, the recruit would be sent for thirteen weeks of basic training followed by enrollment in the Army Specialized Training Program (ASTP) at a university. Several of my classmates and I received letters that we had passed, so we hitchhiked to Des Moines, Iowa, where we went to the army recruiting station and enlisted on May 18, 1943. After a physical examination, we were sworn in as members of the Army of the United States on inactive duty.
After graduation from high school in May, I enrolled at Iowa State College as a premedical student. Shortly thereafter, I received a letter from the army calling me to active duty on July 22nd; this was much sooner than the six months I had been promised. So much for the word of the army, I thought—a thought I would have over and over again. Before leaving for the army, though, I was able to complete requirements in several courses and to receive university credit hours.
On July 22nd, I joined a number of other 18-year-olds and reported to the army recruiting station in Des Moines. From there we were driven in the back end of an army truck to Camp Dodge, the center designated to receive new troops from the State of Iowa, where we took a general IQ test and a mechanical aptitude test.
We were also given a perfunctory physical examination. This was followed by a tetanus injection, and since many of the men had never received one, the major concern during our wait in line was how each of us would react to the shot. The man in front of me, a large man of Scandinavian descent named Quam, stood bravely as the needle plunged into his arm. He promptly fainted and hit the floor, adding to our apprehension. Somehow, the rest of us received the injection without further event.
We were next given woolen army uniforms in the middle of July. Even if they were olive drab, the trousers I received were of a fine gabardine material. Everyone else had received wool flannel trousers. I became the envy of the boys in my barracks. As it turned out, the supply clerk had inadvertently reversed the sizes for my waist and leg lengths and so had given me the last pair of a rare edition of Regular Army enlisted men's trousers. It didn't matter that the waist was too tight and the legs were too long. We were told that there would be no clothing exchanges until we had reached our permanent base. I was able to get the trouser legs shortened but received no help with the tight waist until months later, at my own expense. Not only was I wearing heavy wool trousers in July; they didn't fit.
We also learned how to sign an army payroll voucher. In the process, we were all urged to sign up for a war bond each month. My pay as an army private was $65 a month, a pretty heady sum for a kid who thought he was well paid when earning 25 cents an hour for manual labor. Each war bond cost $18.75 and with earned interest it would increase to a value of $25 in ten years. The bond would be mailed to our home each month. We were told that we must list someone as the co-owner in the event that something happened to us, so I listed my father. Suddenly, I realized that they were telling me that I might not survive the war. What a blow to a teenager who expected to live forever!
We were allowed visitors at Camp Dodge, so on my first Sunday there, my parents, using some precious rationed gas (the ration was four gallons a week for ordinary citizens), came for a last visit before we were to leave for basic training. They were extremely proud of me for serving our country, yet at the same time were very concerned about where all of this was going to lead. Of course, I was feeling those very same concerns. It was a bittersweet visit.
One week following our arrival at Camp Dodge, we were marched to the train station and boarded Pullman sleeping cars for a trip to some undisclosed location. Although we had seen those fancy Pullman cars on passing trains, few of us had ever been inside one, much less ridden in one. In those days, the air-conditioning in sleeping cars was created by fans that blew air over blocks of ice under the car before it was piped inside. But the cars that were assigned to the army did not even have that system. So to try to stay cool when the train was moving, we opened the windows. However, that presented a problem. All of the locomotives were powered by steam engines that were fired by coal. The coal-burning engines constantly emitted masses of soot, which promptly blew in through the open windows. There was no way to keep clean. That was the state of travel in 1943.
The train took us to Des Moines and parked us on a rail siding near the depot. Most of us went to bed, but some of the older men left the train and went out on a bender. When they returned to the train, they were a noisy and disgusting sight. As a naïve 18-year-old, this was a real eye-opener. During the night the train pulled out, and when we awoke the next morning we were nearing Kansas City. We had a layover of several hours there, so we visited the USO (United Service Organization) Club. The USO was an organization of a concerned and unified nation staffed by volunteers that provided social opportunities for servicemen near military installations and at train stations. These clubs offered refreshments, dances, and other activities where servicemen could meet young girls serving as hostesses.
In both Des Moines and Kansas City, our train was connected to other troop trains. From Kansas City, we headed west and south. When awakened the next morning, we were in Santa Rosa, New Mexico. I had written a letter to my parents, so when the train stopped at Alamogordo, I asked the conductor if I had time to mail it. He said that there was plenty of time, so I ran into the depot and mailed the letter. When I stepped back outside the station, I saw that the train was just beginning to move. I ran as fast as I could and jumped on. What a close shave!
Then south to El Paso, Texas, where we were combined with another troop train from the east. By then, our train was comprised of twenty Pullman cars and two dining cars. We enjoyed stops in Bisbee and Phoenix, Arizona, where Red Cross volunteers were serving homemade cookies, various cold drinks, and coffee. That was our first contact with the Red Cross and the many activities it provided for servicemen. I wrote to my mother and suggested that she and her friends should start a similar program at home. One of the women's groups that she belonged to organized a canteen at the local railroad station in cooperation with the home economics faculty from Iowa State College. They were assisted by local college girls, who had a great time meeting boys there.
We had eaten several meals in the diner and by this time had begun to understand that the waiters expected to receive a tip. They brashly passed a silver bowl to every table at each meal and made it clear that they expected some monetary thanks. None of us was familiar with the custom of leaving tips, but we were learning. However, in western Arizona, heavy rain and flooding delayed the train. We sat in the Yuma station over the dinner hour without being fed. The kitchen staff knew that one of the dining cars was to be taken off of the train there, so they refused to start cooking until they knew which car was to remain. Dinner was finally served at 10 P.M. and was so awful that when they passed the silver bowl for tips, not a single coin was put in it. The service was much better at breakfast the following morning.
When the attendant woke us up on the third morning, he told us that we were nearing Los Angeles and that our train would stay there all day. So we could leave and spend the day in town. However, the train would leave for Camp Roberts promptly at 7 P.M., and we had better be on it.
Since none of our group had been in Los Angeles before, we wandered around the city most of the morning. It was common knowledge among soldiers that the action was really in Hollywood, so several of us caught a taxi to go to the movie capital that afternoon. We found the Stage Door Canteen, a much-publicized club for servicemen that was provided and frequented by movie stars. However, it would not be open until 8 P.M., and by that time we would be on the train headed for Camp Roberts. Next, we located the corner of Hollywood and Vine Streets, which was recognized as the crossroads of the movie industry. We also visited the Brown Derby Night Club, the Plaza Hotel, and Grauman's Chinese Theater, all spots made famous by Hollywood stars. Admission to all of these places was free, but at age 18, we could only purchase soft drinks.
In L.A., we were surprised to see women working at jobs we always considered to be man's work. They were driving large buses and taxicabs and serving as policemen, among other tasks. One woman cab driver scared us to death as she raced another cab back to the train station.
Hollywood, with the support of the movie industry and its stars, put out a tremendous effort to offer many activities and entertainment for servicemen. As our train pulled out of the station that night, we knew that we would be back.
CHAPTER 2Basic Training at Camp Roberts
Our train from Los Angeles took most of the night to reach Camp Roberts, California, where it pulled onto a siding that took us directly into the camp, arriving at 6 A.M. Army trucks met us and took us to the barracks of the 51st Field Artillery Battalion. The first part of the process for us was to be interviewed to see if we had any special skills that would determine where we might be assigned. I had taken typing in high school; once the interviewer learned this, he decided that I would go to the army clerical school. Those of us designated as clerks were then trucked over to the 56th Field Artillery Battalion, where all of those attending clerical school were assigned.
Slightly more than two weeks had elapsed since being called to active duty and we were settled into typical army barracks at Camp Roberts, ready to start basic training. Camp Roberts was a huge army camp constructed near the Pacific Coast halfway between Los Angeles and San Francisco. The purpose from the very beginning was to provide basic training for soldiers in both infantry and field artillery. It was a temporary military installation and was very plain and utilitarian. (Despite its "temporary" classification, it is still in use by the army today, over fifty years later.)
The parade ground where we learned to march and perform close-order drill was paved with asphalt. More often than not, however, the parade ground was covered with sand blown in by the constant winds from the Pacific Ocean.
All buildings on the base were also very plain. The barracks were two-story wooden buildings with the outside painted an olive drab. The interior walls were of a tan fiberboard material. All of the woodwork was unfinished pine. The first and second floors each contained spaces for twenty-four soldiers, twelve on each side.
The beds were simple metal frames three feet wide by six feet long on metal legs. A single layer of metal springs was attached to the frame. On the springs lay a thin mattress made of blue-and-white-striped ticking that was stuffed with cotton. When the bed was made up, it was covered with a wool olive-drab blanket pulled taut in all directions, army style, so that a "dime thrown on the bed would bounce twelve inches high." On the wall at the head of each bed was a bar to hang our uniforms on. Above this was an unpainted wooden shelf. We never knew the purpose of this shelf, as we were not allowed to place anything on it. At the foot of each bed was a wooden footlocker painted olive drab that held our underwear, socks, and personal possessions.
The barracks floors were typical three-inch tongue-and-groove unpainted pine boards that showed evidence of much wear and frequent scrubbing. At the back end of the first floor in each barracks was the latrine area. On the back wall of each latrine, there were ten washbasins lined up side by side. Along the opposite wall was a long urinal. A third wall had ten regular toilets. A door in the wall by the toilets led to the showers, where there were ten showerheads. There were no privacy separators in the entire latrine area.
Between the first-floor beds and the latrine were stairs leading to the second floor. The front of the second floor was a repeat of the beds on the first floor. Over the latrine area were four rooms for noncommissioned officers.
When we arrived at Camp Roberts, we were told that basic training had been lengthened and was now seventeen weeks instead of the thirteen weeks we had been promised when we enlisted. So much for the word of the army.
Our day began at 5:45 A.M., when lights were turned on in the barracks. We quickly shaved and dressed. When reveille was played over the loudspeaker, we joined in a military formation at 6:30 A.M. in the battalion marching area, where roll call was taken.
After dismissal, we went to the mess hall for breakfast. The breakfast menu could vary from ground beef in white sauce dumped on a piece of cold toast during the week to eggs and bacon or pancakes on Sunday. By 7:30 A.M., we were engaged in the training program for the day. At 11:30 A.M., we stopped for an hour and had the main meal. We resumed training from 1:00 to 5 P.M., at which time taps were played. The evening meal, which was lighter than lunch, was served at 5:30 P.M. To this day, I remember the goat stew on rice that we seemed to have every Saturday for the evening meal. It was certainly different than any meat that I was familiar with.
Most of the time, we were allowed to take care of our personal needs from supper until bedtime. During that time, I would typically go to the Service Club, where there were small desks for writing letters, a post office, a library, and a cafeteria. Any social activities would likely occur at the Service Club. We were usually exhausted at the end of the day so did not mind the lights in the barracks being turned out at 9 P.M. However, it was wise to be finished with bedtime preparations before lights went out.
For the initial five weeks we were immersed in basic training for field artillery soldiers. Some of the instruction was in classrooms (films about venereal diseases, how to care for guns, how to man an artillery piece, etc.), but a large part of it was physical. This included learning close-order drill and how to march on long hikes. Some hikes were as short as five to seven miles, but many of them were up to fifteen miles long. During this time, we attended cannoneer's school to learn the duties of the various positions required for firing the artillery cannon.
Every Tuesday there was an overnight bivouac (campout) in a wilderness area somewhere on the Camp Roberts Military Reservation. Usually we marched between five and ten miles to reach the campsite. At the end of five weeks, according to our platoon sergeant, we had marched 152 miles. During these bivouacs, we were taught the proper way to maintain public health such as how to wash our eating utensils and keep them sanitary when in the field. We also learned how and where to dig latrines so they would not drain into other areas that would create a public health hazard. We were taught how to dig foxholes that would protect us from direct gunfire or tanks. One vital instruction was how to walk guard duty.
During basic training, we were taught the care and firing of various weapons, carbines, submachine guns, bazookas, and so forth. The weapon used by the field artillery that was most often assigned to us was the carbine. Because of the possibility that the enemy would use poison gases, we were taught the proper use of gas masks and how to recognize different gases upon smell. We were even taken through drills in which token amounts of the various gases were sprayed in the air. We crawled through infiltration courses with explosions occurring near us while live bullets were being fired over our heads to teach us to keep a low profile. We were graded severely on how well we had performed in all of these exercises, which seem to have been designed with one practical purpose in mind—our safety in battle.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Tank Driver by J. Ted Hartman. Copyright © 2003 J. Ted Hartman. Excerpted by permission of Indiana University Press.
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