Symphony in B-Flak

First Movement: ENGLAND

MANCHESTER

The "Strathnaver" steamed into Liverpool on Dec.15, 3100 miles from N.Y. The sight of land was gratifying after ten days of choppy seas. The ship lay in the harbor for one day, and everyone welcomed the rest and the opportunity to settle his stomach and regain his "land-legs". While she made fast to the wharf, an American Band gave us a rousing welcome. We exchanged greetings from the various portholes with a group of Tommies, and tossed them packs and even cartons of cigarettes in answer to their requests.

The rest of the battalion debarked at once, but this Battery remained aboard ship an additional day to act as MP's. Our job was simple enough -- we had to keep corridors and stairways open so that contingents moving out were unhampered.

Finally, burdened with field pack, bedroll and duffelbag, we made the trek to the station. There we received the hospitality of Red Cross hostesses -- a hospitality to be enjoyed many more times in England and on the Continent. The coffee and doughnuts were superb, but aside from that, the smiles and jokes of the girls were stimulating enough, and we could feel the old American spirit growing by leaps and bounds.

We then boarded one of those half-pint trains, funny little single truck wheels, which at first was really odd, and set forth for our first view of Merrie England. It was a mixture of surprise and fun. We expected to see extensive bomb ruins, but as we soon learned, the damage was not universal, and many effects of the blitz had been removed by the cooperation of all the people. Instead, we saw row upon row of brick and stone houses, each with a thousand chimneys -- so it seemed. For several reasons, the English do not use central heating widely, and they seem to have a chimney for each hearth, with no regard for uniformity. Another English characteristic was the innumerable gardens, yards, plots of land, each well defined by a stone fence or hedge-row.

After a forty-mile ride we stopped at a practically deserted LMS station (London, Midland, Scotland), and spotted a sign, in between the Bovril and Ovaltine ads, that said, "Manchester". The twinges in our stomachs warned us that it was well past twelve noon, and the inevitable "C" rations would be welcome now.

Manchester, Lancashire, the 4th city of England and the 5th of the Empire, boasted a prewar population of 770,000. Shc was the cradle of the Industrial Revolution and rose to become one of the leading manufacturing cities of the Empire. Particularly in textiles is Manchester famous, and her Lancashire cloths are known the world over. She was one of the first cities in England to have a free public library, and through a unique system one can get any book desired, either current or ancient, within three days, regardless of where the book is in the United Kingdom. Here too is the Avro Aircraft, Ltd., the home of the famed Lancaster and the new Lincoln.

Our quarters in Manchester were, if nothing else, spacious. The sprawling building with the glass roof and the concrete floor littered with straw suggested that it might have been used for one purpose, but there was no odor, so we know we were wrong. One fellow saw the sign "ZOO" over the entrance and saw the gate closed behind him and remarked: "At last, Baker Battery has found a home". A few days of interior decoration "a la TM 444-444" transformed the former Exhibition Hall into a rather cozy barracks. The redeeming feature was that it was located within Bellevue Park, a vast amusement park -- the most famous in all England and scarcely a mile from the center of the city. What a park! Visitors came from far and wide to see the Botanical and Zoological Gardens, and in particular the world famous "Tiglon", a cross between a lion and a tiger. (One man tantalized the lions once too often, and left two small souvenirs in England--two fingers! The lion died six days later!) Add to this miniature trains, rollercoasters, boxing and wrestling matches, the circus. There were two private dance floors, but if you followed the crowds, you ended up in the public Coronation Ballroom. And you've got to give those English girls credit--they TRIED to jitterbug! The Ballroom, by having set aside special nights for old time dancing, catered to the elder people as well. It was not only in dancing that the oldsters held their own. There were three pubs (short for "public house") within the park, and half a dozen within a stone's throw of the wall surrounding the park (the wall -- remember?). The pub is a wonderful institution and a tribute to the English people -- a respectable place where a respectable family can go in the evening and have a respectable, good time. And did they do it!

Bitters, Guinness, Stout, Mild, Tetley's, special brews like No. 2, No. 5. All warm of course, but you get to like it, especially after the third one, when the community singing begins.

The days were damp, dark, dismal, drab and dreary. They were as remarkably short at this season as they were to grow remarkably long later in the summer. Strictly speaking it was even difficult to distinguish day from night, because the sun never shone. Correction -- the sun DID appear one day at 1358 hours for three minutes! But why talk of days. It was the nights! Black and damp nights, it is true, but not at all boring. One fellow, flashing his pass at the gate at 2300 hours one night, after bidding three girls good night, was heard by the guard to mumble something about "Night Life in the ETO". Remember "Redgate Lane"? A typical scene:

(Darkness and Blackout. All hold hands and are led by the one possessing a "torch", or in lieu of that, a Zippo).
(Whispers, hushed voices, and subdued giggles)
"Beg pardon, I didn't know you were there."
"That's all right, Yankee."
"Hey soldier, got the time?"
"Put that darned flashlight out."
"Oh, it's you, Jim; I thought it was Tom."
"You really will marry me, won't you, Dominic?" (Sigh).
"Sure, honey, I'll marry you; now be quiet."

Christmas was at hand before we knew it, and everybody's face reflected the dejection that was in his heart. Christmas 3000 miles from home! The good people of Manchester took us to themselves, and sent us so many invitations that there were not enough of us to go around. They wanted us to feel "at home" and they succeeded beyond our fondest hopes. Although food in England was strictly rationed the dinners were surprisingly excellent. There were meats and poultry that must have cost many a point, and for "sweets" there were plum puddings and cookies and tarts. Again on Boxing day and on New Year's Day they renewed their hospitality and cemented our strong bond of friendship. And certainly one of the sweetest of their "sweets" is that traditional party custom they have when the Old Year bows to the New -- each fellow is privileged to kiss all the girls present.

We in turn invited about 500 children of the neighborhood to our area for a Christmas Party. The news spread like wildfire, and when the gates were opened, at least 1200 of them poured through. Each one in camp that day was to be host to a child, but most of us ended up with several clustered around us. Since we did not have enough rations for our extra guests,the fellows exhausted their personal rations to make up the deficit. The place was alive with excitement. The highlight was the appearance of Coco the Clown and several other circus performers who kindly agreed to assist us. The children seemed to recognise Coco for what he was -- the internationally famous clown, the most popular in all Europe -- because they crowded so close to him in such a mass that he could only begin to perform for them. The children remained with us for several ours, inspecting our barracks and our personal equipment. So reluctant were they to leave that we could only accomplish this by passing candy to them as they passed through the gate. We tried to spread cheer among the kiddies, but the men themselves were equally affected. "Gee! They all kissed me goodby! "Gosh, they all held on to me and didn't want to leave!" After hearing this and seeing the smiles, we wondered WHO spread WHAT cheer!

When you stepped out of camp all "dolled up" for a Sunday pass, the first thing you encountered when you went to catch a tram was a queue. This queue, however, wasn't a riotous, unorganised, crushing mob, but resembled rather a well-disciplined Army chow line. Moreover, you were surprised to find that this queue was not on the right-hand side of the street, because all English traffic rides on the "wrong" side. Likely as not, while in the queue, children would sidle up to you and ask, "Any goom, choom? or, "Cigarette for my father?" Here comes the tram.

It was somewhat baffling at first to hear the tram conductor, invariably a woman, ask firmly for the fare, "Three hay-p'n'y, please". Before long we were saying "three and six" without a ruffle, and were tossing pence, shillings, florins, and half crowns about with abandon. We knew that a pound was equal to $ 4.035, which made the shilling worth 20 c, the sixpence worth a dime, and the penny worth 2c. Somehow, though, when playing craps or poker, the pound and 10-shilling notes used to slip away much easier than a $5 or a $ 1 bill ever would.

On Sundays the Catholics would march in formation to St. Ann's Church, the Protestants to St. John's (Church of England), College Chapel, or Longsight Presbyterian. We might strive to keep cadence by whistling "Onward Christian Soldier", but it was always interrupted by waves and cheerful greetings from passers-by, and by requests for gum from the children who followed us. After Church we all crowded into a tea room nearby and gorged ourselves on cakes and tea, or maybe it was fish 'n' chips.

Close order drill was held daily in the walks of Bellevue Park. In addition, the schedule provided for frequent hikes through the city, its suburbs like Salford, and even into the surrounding country. The streets of Manchester were not "planned", but they are quite wide, and they extend out from the center of the city like a spider web. On these streets, then, we would hike with "Uncle Bill" Klatte, our Executive Officer. Usually we returned with plenty of exercise under our belt, and in addition such military necessities as lighter fluid and food of all kinds. Food WAS a necessity in those days, because all we could get from Hieronymus' Horrible hash House was Vienna sausage. Hikers who had difficulty keeping the pace frequently returned to camp by tram, eh Sector? One day we fell out in Piccadilly Square. Naturally the place was crowded, so we began to talk and pass out the cigarettes. Or dear topkick, Sgt. Anderson, blew his whistle until he was blue in the face before we coult get away from the people in order to fall in.

We had turned all our organizational equipment in at Fort Dix. Now we patiently awaited a new issue, so that we could discontinue the daily schedule of three or four hours of infantry drill. Finally it arrived, and despite the fact that we had no radar to put us on the beam, we found ourselves as busy as bees in a sugar factory--removing cosmolene from the guns and machine guns, learning the intricacies of the new M-9, loosening up the trucks.

When the equipment was in good shape, we received our first "March Order" overseas and on Jan. 25 set out with part of the Battery to calibrate the guns. The convoy led through the dense manufacturing district of Lancashire and Yorkshire. It was rolling country and the floor of the valleys for miles and miles seemed to be but one vast factory thrusting a thousand smokestacks like fingers towards the sky. We passed through Leeds, Yorkshire, famous for its textile and other manufactures. More interesting to the sightseer was the smaller town of York, the county seat of Yorkshire, with its ancient and beautiful Cathedral and the walls that made the town a fortress in days gone by.

After a trip of 110 miles, we arrived at our destination -- the historical and quaint old village on the northeast coast of England and on the North Sea, Whitby, Yorkshire. This town had its beginnings as a tiny fishing village. It was the scene of several supernatural tales, the most widely known of which is Dracula, and the natives were highly superstitious. It is said that they believed Dracula stomped about in the graveyard on the hill overlooking the village. There is a chair there carved out of solid rock that is called "Dracula's Chair". The cemetery itself is very old and grave-heads of the 11th and 12th centuries are not uncommon. To reach these burial grounds one must climb 199 rough, worn, stone steps.
The beautiful Esk river flows through the center of the town to the sea. There are many other inlets in the vicinity. These afforded the pirates and privateers a lair in which to hide and from which to pounce on their unsuspecting prey.

Out of the sea here is washed a mineral which has come to be known as jet. Down through the centuries the inhabitants of this town have perfected the art of carving it intricately and polishing it. This is the famous Witby Jet, superior by far to that other jet which is found along he cast.

The city itself is still small and picturesque. That portion which is on the left bank of the Esk is built on two levels. Access to the upper city is by the Khyber Pass, or if on foot, by any one of several stone steps mounting the hillside. Streets are still very narrow, and the turns in them are precarious. Some are absolutely impassable by even as small an "auto" as a jeep.

On the bluff on the right bank of the Esk stands an old, abandoned, and ruined Abbey. The architectural work of the parts that still remain is remarkable. The Abbey, built in the 10th century, has huge stone blocks weighing tons which were put in place by man and horse only. There are two spires with steps that go steadily upward and around, each perfect in respect to the other, each meeting the center guide stone at a perfect point and subtending an equal portion of the opposite wall. On the way to the Abbey you pass the statue of Capt. James Cook, the famous English navigator of the 18th century, whose home and base was Whitby.

Many of the people of Whitby today seek their liivelihood from fishing. But the town itself has become noted as a summer resort for the influential people of the entire country. It was in one of the large seashore hotels that we were provided with billets. The hotels had not been heated for some time, both as an air-raid precaution and on account of the shortage of fuel. We followed this practice, although the weather was "bracing", to say the least.

While there we met the famous Scotch regulars of the "Black Watch". We encountered the British "mixed battery" for the first time, and met many A.T.S. girls (Army Territorial Service). We patronised the English canteen called the NAAFI (Navy, Army, Air Force Institute). We were guests of the Tommies at their well known "Sergeants' Mess". Meantime, we had set our guns down on a high bluff overlooking the Sea. The weather gods were not propitious all the time, but by the end of five days all the guns had been calibrated, and we retraced our route to Manchester.

When we finally arrived at Bellevue Park, we found our many friends (including the girls) waiting to watch our arrival. They cheered and shoutied lustily. But their happiness and ours was shortlived, because on Feb. 2 we received March Order. The movement was supposed to be a secret, but somehow the girls learned about it, and on the night before our scheduled departure they came to see us. Promises were made, and tears mixed with kisses. Farewell, Manchester, but not Goodby!

LYTHAM

The roads from Manchester to Lytham-St. Anne's, Lancashire, are full of twisting, torturous curves; consequently several hours were required to make the 45 mile trip on Feb. 3, 1944. Lytham was an operational site, and this was to be our first military operation. We were relieving the 109th AAA Gun Bn. and had sent "contact parties" ahead two weeks earlier to study particular problems and to arrange for the transfer of the British properties. Since the site had to remain continuously operational, we had to exchange guns singly and set up our range equipment before the 109th coulid move out -- a long tedious process, especially in a sea of mucky, slimy and "gooey" mud!

Our mission was to protect the Wharton Base Air Depot of the Eighth Air Force. This was a strategic mission, for the Wharton Base had several huge supply and maintenance installations, as well as numerous airfields. Our daily schedule included morning and evening "Stand-to", alerts, orientation and synchronisation twice a day, general maintenance, etc. Our radar consisted of an old SCR-268 which the 109th had been ordered to leave behind and which was hopelessly mired down in a swamp with little practical use, except for a clothes line. Nevertheless we had visual tracking when the planes were up and, paradoxically, "dry runs" when it rained. We had a system of barrage fire ready in case of an emergency, and we perfected our defense against dive bombers and strafers. It was quite an ordeal, but as we well knew, success in an AA mission depends upon accuracy in minute details. Forts and Libs by the hundreds soon became a common sight, together with the fighters -- Lightnings, Thunderbolts, Mustangs, and at times Spitfires. Occasionally there would be a Wellington, Flying Goose, Curtiss Commando, and Skytrain, as well as English aircraft of all kinds. Soon our fellows knew friendly aircraft like they knew American automobiles.

The living quarters which we received here were better than those we had left. They were comfortable Nissen Huts with concrete floors and stoves of the English variety (without grates). The walls had been adorned with gaily colored paintings as well as silhouettes of one of the favorite "jaw-session topics" -- women.

Of especial interest was "The Silver Fox", our combination "rec" hall, library, writing room, reading room, concert hall, and bar. Since the beer drinkers were the loudest, it soon took on the appearance of "The International Casino" -- sans floor show, that is -- and the walls vibrated with laughter. The name was adopted in honor of our silver-haired Battery Commander, Lt. Harvey, although he never indulged, or touched a drink, for little did he care about the temperature of the drink.

This Camp was one of those Britain erected hastily to accommodate our troops, and plumbing, for one thing, had not extended so far into the country. The latrines, then, were a novelty, but they were much more comfortable than a slit-trench, and the "Honey Wagon" did the rest.

In our previous position we had assumed some of the duties of the C. B.'s (Cleanup Battery). Now we turned to engineering for a change. Someone ingeniously conceived the idea that the location could be drained off. Soon shovels M1 A1, 2 & 3 were placed in our hands, and we were all busy cutting trenches the length and breadth of the position. It was an excellent idea except for one thing. The River Ribble used to back up at high tide, and the trenches would promptly fill up, and parts that may have been drained were replenished with hundreds of gallons of water. Across the river was a shipyard which was working daily on the same old ship, and the noise of "Rosie the Riveter" was always in the air.

For the first time since our arrival in the U. K., 24-hour passes put in their appearance. The natural place to visit was the "Atlantic City of England" -- Blackpool, on the Irish Sea. Most of us, however, retumed to Manchester, for the hospitality there could not easily be forgotten. Those of us who went to Blackpool saw for the first time a highly modernized city, very reminiscent of cities back home. Even though it was war time with strict blackout and public closing at 2300 hours and curtailed transportation facilities, still a great deal of entertainment and amusement could be had. The city itself was overrun with RAF pilots, but the GI's would not and could not be outdone. Witness the Pent House ballroom! Wasn't she heavenly -- no, not the blonde, but the atmosphere -- well, if you insist, the blonde also. And fortunately wherever you find the RAF, you will also find the WAAF (Women's Auxiliary Air Force) those noble little gals, many of whom were in the military forces before our country was at war. There were cinemas, too, if that was all you could find to do, as well as theaters and playhouses where dramas and skits were regularly presented. Outside of dancing and girls, there was little else to do, and for the majority, dancing was irrelevant.

At this time the Allied plan of interchanging Yanks and Tommies to promote better mutual understanding was well under way and reached down into our Battery. We entertained three Tommies for a period of two weeks. They marvelled at our large amount of heavy equipment, but what completely awed them was our monthly paycheck, our weekly ration of cigarettes and candy, and the quantity of meat in our diet. At the end of this time, three of our fellows who had spent two weeks in an English camp returned praising the English to high heaven for their sincerity, their discipline, their knowledge of their equipment, their spirit of fun, and their -- chow! They had been to a mixed battery whose kitchen had the feminine touch.

In the spring of 1941 the Luftwaffe had bombed the industrial cities of the midlands and the north of England severely, but infrequently. Now the bulk of the Luftwaffe was transferred to the Russian front, and these cities were not threatened. We did not desire their reappearance, but should they reappear, we were eager to track, load, and fire.

It was at this site that we were visited by a Captain who had just arrived in the U. K. from Washington. He revealed to the Officers, as we later learned, that British secret agents had discovered the German robot or "buzz" bomb plans almost a year earlier. He also revealed the role that antiaircraft was to play in the defense against them. Ours was one of the first Gun battalions contemplated for this task. The Battery Commanders even left on a trip that lasted several days to reconnoiter our assigned positions south of Rochester, below London. But the bombing of the robot launching sites during the preceding winter months had been so effective that the robot blitz did not start until June 15, and by that time we were already in Normandy.

It was rumor time again.

"Blandford, yeah,we're going to Blandford."
"When?"
"Soon."
"You're crazy. There isn't a place by that name in England."
There is.

CAMP BLANDFORD

Feb. 27 was a memorable day, because we recieved "March Order" during a blizzard. Getting out of Lytham was as difficult as getting in had been, for we were being relieved by the 494th AAA Gun Bn. and the site had to remain continuously operational. At 1600 hours we were on our way.

The first stop on the 225 mile convoy was at Preston, Lancashire, only 17 miles away. We spent the night in an English Camp, and set out again early the following morning. We rode all day on the winding English roads, and saw many airports and closeups of Lancasters, Sterlings, Spitfires, and Mosquitoes, as well as their camouflaged hangars, which were hardly visible until we were almost upon them.

Darkness fell early, so we turned on to a dirt road and made our way to an English transient camp that was primarily a stop-over camp for convoys. Here men and women of the REME (Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers) made repairs on both English and American vehicles and prepared the meals. This site is one mile southeast of Wellington. Most of us visited Wellington and enjoyed our first malted milks overseas (not half so good as the chocolate malts at the corner drug store). At 0400 hours the barracks exploded with the call to rise. After a hasty breakfast we were off (not mentally, yet). The last 50-mile leg of the journey began.

We approached the city of Blandford, Dorset, from the Salisbury Road, but it didn't matter which way the city was approached. Its main and only street had to be ridden. It was a typical "one-horse" town -- really "no horse", because meat rationing had been in effect for over 3 years.
Camp Blandford, with its Benbow and Drake areas, had good barracks with excellent shower and toilet facilities. The sun, which we had barely glimpsed heretofore, shone with surprising regularity. The atmosphere however was often quite chilly on account of the piercing winds which generally prevailed. There were tennis courts, ball diamonds, a ration PX. The NAAFI was closed, with inches of dust on its tables, but we learned that it reopened shortly afterwards. The discouraging feature of the camp was the fact that it was miles from nowhere.

Camp Blandford was an old camp under alteration to become a hospital camp for the invasion. For us, however it was to be merely a staging area of a sort.

We were ordered south so that we could be summoned to the London defenses against robot bombs within 24 hours -- a plan which never materialised. Meantime we heard via the grapevine that our battalion was to take a specialised course in "Mobile Training" under English supervision. We learned later that this course was probably the greatest single contribution which the English made to our training. This Battery did not take the Mobile Training course. It learned it the "hard" way under blackout conditions in combat in Normandy.

Just before the course began, Capt. Harvey called a Battery meeting and gave us what he called "The low down on a good deal". This Battery alone in the Battalion had been selected to participate in the defense of London against the increasing raids of the Luftwaffe -- the ACTIVE Ground Defense of Great Britain. When Capt. Harvey approached Gen. Timberlake, after the latter had addressed the Battalion on "The Mobile Training Program", he voiced the individual opinion of each and every one of us: "When do we leave, sir? Baker Battery is always ready!"

We were happy, for soon we would be on our merry way to London with Trafalgar Square and Piccadilly and many other historic places, but happy chiefly because we would soon fire our pampered Nineties. We determined to give Jerry a symphony, yes, a "Symphony in B-Flak".

LIPPETT'S HILL

March 14 saw B Battery off on a long 110-mile convoy of its own. We were to be attached to Col. Albergotti's 184th AAA Gun Battalion, relieving one of his batteries so that it could go to Blandford for the "Mobile Training". We left at 0630 hours, with smiles on our faces. At long last one "break" had fallen to us. The convoy moved along, and the scenery was exceptionally beautiful. The airports appeared more frequently and grew larger. As we neared London, several searchlight units could be seen, perfectly camouflaged.

Afer a trip of 12 hours we made a routine stop and learned that our Battery Commander, who had left a few days earlier, had been struck by an English lorry and was then taken to a hospital with a broken foot. This was a "sad blow", because Capt. Harvey was very popular with everyone who knew him.

Finally, as dusk was upon us, we came into the city north of London called Chingford, Essex, which was approximately 4 miles from Laughton, or Lippett's Hill, the location of the site.

In order to reach the site we had to penetrate the Epping Forest, Robin Hood's old haunt. Epping is part of the famed Sherwood Forests.
We arrived at the camp shortly after dusk. Although it was hard to see clearly, we received a pleasant impression. The road ways were concrete, and the barracks were all centrally heated. Shower and latrine facilities were marvellous. We found out later that this was a static British site and it was, in a word, excellent.

We ate some "B Battery turkey" (Army corned beef hash) and then went off to sleep on the floor of a large recreation hall which at one time was the NAAFI!

At 2300 hours the same night we were all up and outside in various stages of undress -- our first air-raid. We could hear the muffled, high-pitched drone peculiar to all German aircraft. Fires could be seen on the horizon, and it was evident that London had been hit. While the planes dived and maneuvered, British and American ack-ack filled the air; the staccato of the Bofors 40 mm. kept a constant vigil. So far the 90's had not answered the challenge. More delay, more zooming, bombs crashing nearby, and suddenly the music we wanted to hear so much, the beginning of a symphony we would hear for a long time to come:the four deadly 90's of the 184th barking violently, spewing flame and destruction toward the skies!

It stopped even more quickly than it had started, leaving us suspended in expectation. It was all over, and we had liked it. Tomorrow night, maybe, we would have the opportunity to fire. Time passed very slowly. Eager and excited, we wanted to do somthing about those planes.
The next day was divided between the relieving of the 184th Battery and the meticulous tuning up of our new radar, the SCR 584, as well as precise orientation and synchronization. At last we were ready. All right, Hitler, send those raiders now. He did.

That evening at 2230 hours they came. Everyone was just a bit "jumpy", for as battle troops we were green. Slowly and surely, however, we settled down and took on the complacency of a devil-may-care attitude. Inside us, however, things were different. The Radar "picked up" our first enemy target. He came in bobbing and weaving, maneuvering violently, closer, closer. We waited. Our nerves began to jump. "Come on; let's fire" was all that could be heard. The plane kept boring in. Suddenly a voice came from the C.P.: "Guns fire three rounds." Quiet, tenseness, suspense! Then it began. This time our guns sent their tune heavenward, and the Jerry pilot was the guest to the first movement of our "Symphony in B-Flak". We were close undoubtedly, for he altered course immediately. Before he was out of range, we sent a "goodbye-good riddance" volley.
It was over, and quiet again prevailed. We were all happy, because we had already been training for just this type of work for almost a year, and we felt that at last the training was beginning to pay dividends. Jerry returned in the early morning at 0300 hours, and we were up and out of the "sack" and out to our equipment. We then began to wait, as usual in the Army -- rush to wait. This was an incendiary bomb raid, and as one of the boys put it, "The clouds dripped white fire", for we could see each incendiary go off, and they were being dropped in clusters all about us. We didn't like it, so at the order, ''Continuous fire", we gave them something they hadn't expected. That morning a few raiders never returned to their home base.

We soon became accustomed to being aroused out of the peaceful arms of Morpheus, to run out within 2 minutes of the warning bell to our guns and range station. Expectation of alert was at any time from 2100 hours to 0700 in the morning. "Factory warning on; ''All sites take post"; "Attack in progress"

We finally received the SCR 184, IFF (Identification, Friend or Foe), and we began to assemble it and find out just how and why it worked; thus the British contraption we were using was finally abandoned. The camp was clean. Concrete drives, horseshoe-like concrete gun pits, concrete C.P; in fact everything was perfect.

Entertainment was of the best. ENSA shows came there twice during our stay, as well as kiddie shows and movies. Each Saturday night A.T.S. girls from various neighboring camps came to our dance. Every one had a gala time talking, eating and ... Beer, however, was not allowed. By the grace of our acting Battery Commander, Capt. Klatte, called by all of us "Uncle Bill", it was permissible to visit the Owl, a pub directly across the street for a "bitter" or a "black-and-tan" or a chat with the Englishmen, or to use the phone there. It was frequented so much that we had a siren installed. Down the road 1/4 mile was the "Plow", another pub frequented by many of the boys.

Gen. Eisenhower had ruled that passes be cut from 24 hours to 6 hours. Our camp was so situated that trips to either of two towns, one Chingford, the other Waltham Cross, which were equidistant, were permissible. The only setback was transportation facilities. If we missed the truck, we had to walk back and then face a "fiery dragon" when we arrived there. In Chingford we frequented the Royal Forest Hotel where dancing was always in progress and drinks could be bought. Girls always outnumbered us 2 to 1, and thus we could afford to choose with discrimination, and we did. There was easy access to the golf course, and strolls on the green and fairways were made with many a fair maiden, without golfclubs. The time of year was spring and everyone knows whither "a young man's fancy lightly turns" in the springtime. We frequented the Doric, a theater that played Broadway hits about three years old. Chingford offered all types of transport to London, -- LNE (London, Northeastern) railroad, and omnibuses.

Later, after the extension of the privilege, all of us were enabled to visit the largest city in the world, London. The city is 22 miles across, and it is impossible to see everything for which London is famous in 24 hours. We did see Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, Hampden House, 10 Downing Street, the Thames estuary, Regents Park, and thousands of other things of interest, and above all Piccadilly Circus, the parliament Buildings, and the Cathedrals.
Rainbow Corner was the first stop always, because directions, hints and suggestions of where to go, and what to do, and where to sleep, could all be had there free of charge.

We were all happy at Lippett's Hill despite the inspections by all kinds of brass, the most dreaded being those by our Battalion Commander, Col. Albergotti. Gen. Sir Frederic Pyle, the British Ack-Ack specialist, who had charge of the entire AA defense of the London area, was pleased and congratulated us on our work and cleanliness of equipment. However, shortly afterwards, we were gigged on little things, such as not painting the knobs in our Computer red, white, and blue. Yes, even the fan belts of the vehicles must be bright red. But we didn't mind it too much, for at least our environment was clean and wholesome.

Food was exceedingly good, meat was plentiful; bread, jam, etc., were served frequently. What more could we ask for!

Although we often fired, the position was not a good one, because it was at the extremity of all bomb runs. We were told by Lt. Henry, the British officer who was in charge of the Recording Van, (a unit from which could be traced both the flight of the target and the position of our shell burst) that our firing was most effective, because we forced the raiders to change continuously their direction, speed, and altitude, and made it impossible for them to bomb with precision.

One night the same Lt. Henry told us many interesting stories of the England of yesteryear and of today. For example, the cities and towns that end in Cross, such as Waltham Cross and Kings Cross, etc., received their names during the funeral procession of Queen Anne, wife of King Henry VIII. At each stop of the procession the King had a cross erected, and the names have persisted till the present day.

Ever so often a batch of mail would come to us from Blandford and along with it stories of the tough training our Battalion was undertaking.
The raids began to occur less frequently, and the word "Invasion" began to be heard louder and louder until it became a thunderous rumble. Everyone began to predict when, where, who, how. Since the "V for Victory" phrase was the voice of millions, no doubt Jerry heard of it too, for now only sporadic raids were made on London, and the main raids were diverted to the coastal districts. Still thundering in the ears of everyone was the word "Invasion".

Then came the season's heaviest raid on London. Planes were caught in the glare of searchlights, held in it throughout their flight. Others came in with their wing lights on, at many altitudes, and the sky was a blanket of AA fire, mostly British. The raiders came in from the South and flew out towards the West; consequently they were always well out of range of our guns, and if strong words and epithets were ammunition we'd have knocked the whole Luftwaffe silly. We did get some firing in, at maximum range, but it was ineffectual.

In the last delivery of mail came the rumor that we would go back to Blandford soon as Station Complement; thus we learned that our mission here was nearing completion.

Amusing incidents always occurred. One of the best concerned the special orders of the gate guard. Instructed to take care lest Col. Albergotti's chickens get out, one guard, while busy with an incoming vehicle let a couple of hens slip by and consequently spent an hour or more chasing them all over Laughton. Many of us wish that those same chickens were with us now.

Three weeks after Easter a convoy arrived. The self same boys we relieved were back again. They put their equipment in the holes that we had just finished digging. We were relieved that night. Consequently we had the evening to ourselves and took ample advantage of it. Many went to Waltham Cross, others to Chingford, and still others to the old favorites, "The Owl" and "The Plow", for the final goodbyes. We hated leaving but were happy for one thing. We would be under the command of our own Col. Hopper, and back where we belonged with the 115th.

All in all, our stay was both pleasant and profitable. We had expended 164 rds. of ammunition, and although we did not submit any formal claims for planes destroyed, we did engage the enemy and were now confident that we could and would deal with him on more than parity at all future engagements.

CAMP BLANDFORD AGAIN

April 22nd we were rolling along toward Blandford once again, the same 110 miles, and most of us hated retracing our tracks. As a famous general once said, "There is no such thing as a strategic retreat", and although we were not in retreat, we felt that convoy experience must have influenced the General considerably. The trip itself was uneventful, and most of us were deep in thoughts of the days gone by at Lippett's Hill as well as the days to come.

No bands, no cheers, no welcoming party were there to meet us as we entered Camp Blandford. We ourselves were not too happy to see the old place.

During our absence the place had assumed a different aspect. The old NAAFI never did open up, but instead the American Red Cross occupied the building and it was to open soon. Nearby, however, a NAAFI was in operation and tea was the favorite beverage. Cookies, cakes, sandwiches, mineral waters, and of course beer were also served.

We immediately occupied our assigned barracks, and the necessary scouring started. Then as Station Complement we drew K.P. (by the scores of men), security guard, fire guard, M.P., clean-up duty for both Red Cross and NAAFI, and theater guard, as well as the necessary battalion motor pool guard.

This wasn't work, it was plain drudgery, for it was repeated daily with unvarying monotonous regularity.

We were fortunate, for one day a week we had a pass in which we could get away from all this. Our pass trucks took us to Bournemouth, Hants, which was a seaport resort town. It was a beautiful but dead city to most of us on account of wartime restrictions and rationing. We then turned to places like Blandford city itself and Salisbury which were hardly more interesting, but no one ever refused a pass.

Nothing unusual happened, but that same word could be heard in whispers here and there, and getting increasingly louder and louder, "Invasion of Fortress Europe".

We could feel and see the step-up of allied air attacks as well as troop movements. All night and day large Halifaxes could be seen and heard, carrying their lethal loads from an airport nearby. Maneuvers of troop-laden gliders were an everyday occurrence.

The Germans made several counter-air raids, and one night the ack-ack could be heard in camp. A few days later there was an alert, a Focke Wulf 189 observation plane was spotted about 20,000 feet high.

By this time we were under new leaderslhip. Captain Klatte had been appointed Battery Commander at Lippett's Hill, and he now chose as his First Sergeant Elmer G. Guthrie. Although we regretted the passing of the old regime, we were happy and confident under the new.

Preparations to move were presently undertaken, and advance parties were sent to lay out our future home on the Salisbury Plains. Finally on May 11 we left Blandford, for good we hoped, and travelled 27 miles through Salisbury to a place on the Plains called Stonehenge, Wilts.

STONEHENGE

On arriving at the chosen spot we saw to our surprise just one large panorama of fields, a part of the Salisbury Plain, reputed to be one of the coldest spots in England. After a few days we believed every word of it, for in the mornings our pup tents and surrounding areas were thickly coated with hoarfrost. This frosting continued well past the middle of May, and the wind was always northerly bitter.

At Stonehenge we were situated across the road from one of the most famous monuments of antiquity in the British Isles and in the world. There in a field stand solid blocks of stone. Some are 20 feet or more in height and they have aroused the curiosity of many for centuries. The theories that they were the scene of human sacrifices or that they were Druid Temples are both unfounded. Traces have been found to prove that the Megolithic race of the late stone age was present there (2500 B.C.). People known as "Beaker Folk", because of their use of earthenware drinking vessels, migrated and spread westward from the Rhineland at that time. The stones have been traced as far as 180 miles from their present position, and still others may have been brought from Ireland.

As before, "Invasion talk" filled the air, and we knew beyond a doubt that we would be a part of it. At any rate, this was a "Staging Area".

On May 17 a group of our boys left with one gun for artillery orientation and firing under tutelage of Field Artillery officers of the First Army. The position was a moor, near the city of Withypool, Somerset, 75 miles distant. We had several lectures there, and rules and ballistic tables for the correction of fire were presented and explained. Our fire was directed at an unseen target, and our shells must in their travel clear two small villages. Finally after several dry runs, punctuated with continual checking and double checking of surveying and orientation, and the application of corrections to the guns, we were ready to fire.

We completed what proved to be very successful terrestrial firing. Through the coordination of our spotters at the OP's and our computers in the Fire Direction Center we found that either air-bursts or impact bursts could be had when desired. These air-bursts are commonly called "Whispering Death" by our infantry.

When we returned, we were addressed once more by our Brigade Commander, General Timberlake. This time he told us that we were elected to bring AA protection to the beaches -- as soon as possible. He then directed us to take the darned helmets off, open up our shirts and "for crying out loud, get some names and pictures on your vehicles". He went on to tell us that water-proofing would be imperative and special precautions should be taken with all equipment. Finally he closed his speech by saying, "Men of the 115th, I salute you", and we then knew for certain that we would hit the beach with his 49th Brigade and the First U.S. Army.

The following days were filled with the work of water-proofing and all became master craftsmen in the use of Bostic, Asbestos Grease, and Admiralty Cloth.

The whole world by this time was tense. The one-time whispers of "Invasion" were now booming shouts. Preparedness was in effect all through the United Kingdom. One night we were awakened and ordered to disperse, for above hovered a hostile plane, and almost immediately it began to drop illumination flares at such a low altitude that some of them struck the ground while still burning. It was obviously an observation plane taking pictures.
Our first premonition of the significance of June 6 came to us while we were on a routine hike. Glider-towing transports and a vast air armada seemed almost a sure indication that D-day had arrived. Upon our return to the Battery area, our expectations were confirmed by a special communique which Lt. Moore read to us. Part of the suspense was finlally over and we prepared to assume our part in the gigantic operations taking place.

WINCHESTER

We left Stonehenge on June 8 and shortly later arrived at Winchester, Hants, our Marshalling Area -- a movement of only 28 miles. Along the route we had ample opportunity to view the English people's enthusiastic reception of the news of the Invasion. They were exceedingly jovial, they served us tea and crumpets, and they left nothing undone towards cheering us along our way. Already the wounded and some of the assault troops were returning. Now we could FEEL the war in every fiber of our being.

At the camp in Winchester the officers were briefed on the landing operation. We drew "ammo" and PX rations. We also donned our impregnated clothing as a protective measure against the possible use of gas. Since we were not to remove these clothes for a week, the odor in which we lived and moved was somewhat less pleasant than that of Lelong's Chanel. Halazone tablets for purifying drinking water and sea-sickness pills were also issued us, but fortunately a real necessity for them never arose. March Order was given at midnight on the 9th and we proceeded the short 12 miles to our POE at Southampton, Hants.

SOUTHAMPTON

At the port our light equipment was immediately loaded on a Liberty Ship, the Edward M. House, complete with barrage balloon. Several hours were required to free the boom on the ship's crane from the mast, hence there was a delay in loading the heavy equipment.

When finally the radar and "cats" and guns were hoisted and lowered onto the deck or into the hold, it was fascinating to watch how toy-like they were handled. Meantime many of us had already had our coffee and were fast asleep in the huge warehouse on the dock.

An uneventful day followed, spent in roaming around the dock. At 1400 hours we drew anchor and soon we found ourselves in the midst of a huge convoy of ships. It was the Rendezvous Point, and we rested there for three and a half hours. At 1830 the fleet began its hundred mile trip across the Channel.

THE CHANNEL EXPEDITION

Life aboard ship was an unceasing effort to ward off anxiety and boredom. Resourcefulness and ingenuity prevailed, and a high degree of morale was maintained. Card games, the Galloping Cubes, and GI conversation were the contributing factors. Whatever the subjects of conversation might have been, we feel safe in saying that down deep in his heart each man was thinking along these lines and in this order: (1) The Beach; (2) Home; and (3) Girls.