Symphony in B-Flak

Second Movement: FRANCE

II. NORTHERN FRANCE

DUCEY

AUGUST 2 we found out that we had ended our days as First Army troops and were now assigned and attached to Patton's Third Army. No time was wasted; at 1430 in the afternoon "March Order" was in effect. Via radio BBC, London, we learned that there had been a break-through at St. Lo, and all allied armies were surging forward.

Although the sun was broiling, all worked with a smile, and at heart we felt that this was possibly the beginning of the end; with that in mind, work was a great deal easier.

This was to be a long trip, the longest thus far on the continent, 73 miles to a place in or around Avranches which finally turned out to be Ducey, a small city south-east of Avranches in Bretagne.

On the convoy we saw many dead cattle, horses, pigs, and Germans. It was a grotesque sight, but this we knew was the reality of war.

Rolling along we came to the little town of Periers, where we could see, first hand, the destruction we ourselves inflicted with our guns. The crossroads of the town had been the objective and were pulverized. The route was jammed with the vehicles of the 4th Armored, all going forward. The armor had priority, and the congestion made a change of course necessary. Off we went on secondary roads and on toward our R. C. (Report Center), 2 miles south of Avranches. As we rode, time fled quickly by, and before we realized it, dusk was upon us. We were back on the main supply route after having by-passed the clity of Coutances. As we approched the road that leads through the beautiful city of Granville on the sea, towards Avranches which had fallen on July 31st, we could see ahead of us the red tracer of 40 mm and the yellow flash of 30mm bursts. In Avranches there was an all important intersection of two major roads and several important bridges. These were Jerry's primary target for the night. Illumination flares brightened the countryside. Strafing caught most of the columns on the road and the explosions of bombs could be heard all around.
We plunged through the inky night in total black-out, but because our destination was untenable, we were ordered to leave the road and settle for the night.

At 0530 in the morning after a breakfast of "C" rations, we were ready to move again.

We could now see clearly the hits made by the Heinies the previous night. The engineers had things in hand for one of their bridges over the Selume river had been damaged a bit but it had already been repaired, and again we took off towards our RC. In an hour we were there and were sent to a field to await further orders. The necessary job of camouflaging done, everyone stretched out on the cool grass and went to sleep.

At 0930 we were up again, and off on another 20 mile trip to Ducey, which was now determined tenable. There we had a twofold mission -- the primary mission of protecting the large Vezins dam; secondarily, the protection of the main route to St. Hilaire, Mortain, and the base of the Brittany Peninsula. We soon realized that we were on one of the spearheads racing down the coast of France.

We pulled up into some fields on the side of a secondary road. Immediately we began setting up, for, as always, haste is imperative. The necessary tasks done in good time, and with skeleton crews for orientation and synchronization, we started looking after our personal equipment.

The drone of several planes was audible, and all heads simultaneously looked upwand. There could be seen 24 planes flying in American fighter formation. The usual question "What are they?" was in the air. Someone shouted FW-190's and ME-109's; then those famous last words: "Heck, the Heinies haven't that many left". Suddenly, they "peeled off" and came zooming down, strafing tank convoys and bombing roads. Our machine guns began to rattle, and by following the red tracers, we could see that bullets surely found their mark. Machine guns fired so much, one of our boys even shot his MG ram-rod at them, "Eh, Bub"?

These 190's and 109's swept back again, headon toward our position, and again our machine gunners shot up more ammo. One came down, and our gun fire finished him off. When he did hit, two kilometers away (1.2 miles), he went up in a puff of black swirling smoke and that good old shout of ours filled the air, "Hitler, count your pilots now".

We then went to work again and awaited "Night Status". The period of free firing within limits in an IAZ (Inner Artillery Zone), which was officially handed down by a Liaison between the Air Corps and Antiaircraft, came finally at 2000, and we were ready to go. The radar began its constant searching of the skies. Almost anything at all in the sky should and would be considered as a hostile target. All equipmient was manned for an all night session. Everyone took the last puff on his cigarette and settled do for the long stretch ahead.

The beginning of the night went by uneventfully, and we all thought that this was one of those positions where nothing but pigeons was to be picked up by the reliable radar.

Early morning and nothing as yet. The radar "bug" at the guns whirled, round and round. Suddenly it stopped and began to move violently back and forth, like a lion stalking its prey. We had our first target, and the phones vibrated with "Radar on Target".

Contrary to tactics up until this position, the Jerries were now flying bomber formations instead of the usual single raider.
Unsuspectingly they flew, for on the preceding night most of the Ack-Ack was on the move, very few units in place. We could hear the deafening drone of many planes. Then "Uncle Bill" gave the command, "All guns, fire 3 rounds", and with a bang we began another movement of our "Symphony in B Flak". Our angry guns roared, and we fired a great deal that night. Every now and then a plane could be seen lighting up as it crashed on its last trip. All through the rest of the all-too-short period of darkness we had action.

Morning brought to an end all tenseness. We had our delicious "C" ration breakfast and were glad that at last we could obtain some sleep. We began to wonder why so many planes had been up, and it did not take long to find out that the Germans were counter-attacking and had already retaken Mortain which was 13 miles from our position and 20 miles from their objective, Avranches and the sea.

Daylight action was sporadic and our Air Corps, principally the P-47 Thunderbolts of the 9th Air Force, were busy. One day two P-47's came directly overhead, at an altitude of 50 ft. trailing a fleeing ME-109. Our machine guns could not fire for fear of hitting our own aircraft. We learned the hard way that day, that two large objects could not comfortably occupy the same fox-hole at the same time.

Then at last came the thing we wanted to see most. On the night of August 7 we fired, and we heard a cry over the phone, "We hit him; he's on fire!" We all stood there and watched a spectacle unfold itself. The death of a "Junkers 88" in a short one-act play. It was burning fiercely and still flying, directly toward us. Then it altered its course and turned out at a right angle. It was descending slowly. Suddenly it dropped, down, down, and out of sight, and then the black sky reflected the final flare up of explosion and burning gasoline, and it was over. Again as always we chanted: "Hitler, count your pilots now." We did not wait till morning, but a party set out at once to locate and examine the wreckage.

We found ourselves running precariously low in 90 mm ammunition, and rounds were borrowed from other batteries in the battalion. The situation became so grave that the usual practice of firing 3 rounds per gun per course was abandoned, and two and even one round per gun was allotted to each flight. One morning after a night of heavy action we discovered that there were no more than 14 rounds in each gun pit--enough to fire only a few courses.

At 1500 hours that afternoon 4 truck-loads of 90mm ammo arrived with 4 negro drivers. The arrival of the convoy was greeted with shouts of joy and the unloading of the precious rounds began. The drivers decided to stay overnight and curiosity brought them to the guns. There were enemy aircraft in the vicinity and immediately we began to fire. Naturally it startled our visitors. A hit was scored, and a few seconds later the plane burst into flames and crashed nearby. For a while they were tongue-tied. Finally after minutes of stammering and figuratively swallowing pieces of their own hearts, they began to cheer and yell and promised that if we did things like that all the time, "Boy, we'd go through h-- to get you guys that ammo".

As always, "Uncle Bill" was on the rampage for (1) a swimming hole and (2) some Special Service movies. Finally we were taken to the river Selume for baths and swimming. If we wished, we could also have a few drinks, but only in moderation. Here we had our first encounter with diluted cognac and watery wines.

We lived in holes with our shelter halves as protection against rain. We even had liquids and powders to protect us against lice, spiders, mosquitoes, beetles,--and all the creeping and crawling denizens of our underground homes called foxholes.

During this time the XV Corps had swung north to protect the north-northeast flank of the Third Army and to help pocket the German 7th Army. This was the famous "Falaise-Argentan Gap". Shortly later XII Corps struck east and south towards Chateaudun and Orleans. On August 13 we were called upon to protect road and bridge installations vital to both drives.

We learned a great deal there at Ducey. Those days and nights of battle experience were the toughest thus far. We expended 1212 rounds of 90mm ammunition as well as 6035 rounds of .50 caliber machine gun ammo, and it was not spent in vain. Three planes had definitely crashed as a result of our gun fire, and the raiders did not harm the Vezins Dam which we had been assigned to protect.

Ducey was the completion of the metamorphosis from comparatively green, fresh troops, to thoroughly seasoned battle veterans.

ALENCON

Leaving Ducey at 0500 hours in the morning of August 13th, we were off on a 127-mile trip that took us through Laval, the great industrial and rail junction (also the site of a forced labor railroad camp) and Le Mans, the great lace city of France. People everywhere were jubilant because after many years of oppression and the recent hours of bewilderment, they had just been liberated. At Le Mans, wreckage of the famed "Tiger Tanks" was to be seen in all parts of the city. All along the road were 88's with twisted carriages and spiked barrels, and our nineties rode proudly by their counter-part in the German army. Hundreds of 20mm AA guns were strewn all over roads and fields.

We were riding at our customary 25-mile-an-hour convoy speed, and most of our equipment sported swastikas which made them look so much more important.

We arrived at Alencon in the province of Normandy late in the evening. Upon entering the city we saw five shattered Sherman tanks which had been hit in the liberation of the city. They were formerly manned by the Free French Forces of General De Gaulle. Taking up our position northeast of the city, we hastily set up the battery.

This position was an important one. The "Falaise Gap" was not yet closed, and fierce battles were raging on both the American and Canadian spear-heads, which lacked but 6 miles to complete the trapping of an estimated 200,000 enemy forces. Our mission was primarily to protect the roads and bridges on the main supply route, and secondarily, to prevent air reinforcements of the beleagured 7th German Army.

While eating the first night, we could hear the chatter of .50 caliber machine guns. Two FW-190's could be seen flying low to the north of our position. They disappeared in the clouds and never came back. That same night our guns spoke for their first and last time at this position, and the plane fled quickly. The firing was done at maximum elevation.

We had high expectations of frequent action here, but they soon disappeared. Not only did planes fail to enter the effective firing zone of our guns; they did not even appear in the radar scopes. When orders came to dig in, we found to our dismay that the ground was a brown stone almost as hard as concrete. A nearby engineer outfit brought their bull-dozers, and after a very difficult operation finally completed a hole for the radar, computer and power plants. It was decided to revet the guns by building sandbags from the ground level. Three thousand sandbags were used for each gun, and the work was tedious and hard.

People from near and far came up to visit us; especially on Sunday. Naturally, though unwittingly, they got in everyone's way, and in order to keep them from entering the area, someone ingeniously put up a sign worded in French. The French, after looking at it began to laugh, and after interrogation told us that the sign read, "No Hunting Allowed!"

We spent most of our time sight-seeing, buying "des oeufs" (eggs), and accumulating good food such as potatoes, tomatoes, and lettuce, as well as all kinds of fruit in season at this time of year. This was a welcomed substitute indeed for our old reliable "C" rations.

In our sight-seeing tour, many of the Catholics in the battery were thrilled to be able to see the famous shrine of St. Theresa of the Child Jesus. Although she died in the convent at Lisieux, she was born in Alencon at No. 7, Rue de St. Blaize. The house and adjoining chapel were visited. Here in her own little room we saw St. Theresa's bed, her baby clothes, and bib as well as the other necessities of a child. Next door in a building which is now a convent, we bought cards, pictures, rosaries, and other religious souvenirs. At the church we saw her name and the names of several of her family inscribed in the Baptismal Register.

On August 19 the "Falaise Gap" was finally closed, and the liquidation of a dying Army was under way. In the interim XII Corps was stretching its tentacles toward the Yonne River and Sens.

We lingered at this position for two more days, and some of us witnessed the treatment of women who were Nazi collaborators. Their hair was completely shaved off, and swastikas branded on their foreheads. Then they were forced to face the angry mob of both French soldiers and civilians, who in their heat and fever pummelled them with fists, stones, etc.

The job of sandbagging had just about been completed when the inevitable "March Order" was announced. Three days labor shot to "blazes". Again we piled souvenirs, tables, chairs, and other assorted forms of junk on our vehicles, and awaited the definite IP time (Initial Point).

We were to leave August 20, in the early morning, as soon as 413th AAA Gun Bn. of the First Army relieved us. Since they arrived early and relieved us the preceding evening, we had the night off for a date with our best friend, Morpheus, and were soon absorbed in his pleasant dreams.

CHATEAUDUN

After we had been aroused from peaceful slumber, the bright early morn of Aug. 20 found us half-awake in our designated vehicles. A trip of 73 miles had to be accomplished, this time to Chateaudun in the Ille-de-France.

Our route led us back through Alencon where greetings were extended us by the troops of De Gaulle's Free French Forces. The five knocked out, lendlease French Sherman tanks were still in the city, a grim monument of the high pitched battle for the city.

The route was planned with rare wisdom, for all the beautiful women in France lined the shoulders of the road, waving, greeting, throwing kisses, and giving us eggs, flowers and all kinds of fruit. On the approach to Chateaudun we passed a former Nazi air-base, repair depot, and air-strips. Some intact and undamaged JU-88's could be seen, as well as bombs still on their carriers. The air strip was completely wrecked, and the hangars were burned -- hardly a single one of the dozen escaped the fury of the American advance.

The bridge spanning the river Loir was completely demolished, and we were compelled to ford the shallow river with our vehicles.

Riding to our new position, we came alongside the large and beautiful, the ancient and historic Chateau which has given the city its name. Dunois was the first lord, and his Chateau formed the nucleus of the town. The Chateau was built in 3 different centuries: the "Donjon" in the 10th, the chapel in the 13th, and the castle proper in the I6th. The delicate designs and meticulous working of the stone was in itself a work of art, never to be forgotten.

It is here that the famed meeting between the Duke of the Chateau and Joan of Arc (Ste. Jeanne D'Arc) met to consolidate forces that accomplished the defeat of the British at Orleans.

At the base of the immense stone walls were huge caverns in which aircraft parts were stored by the Germans.
This site was completely inactive, so we spent most of our time looking over the historical parts of the city. The city had been conquered three times by the Germans, in 1870, 1914, and 1940; and historical pieces and much valuable data could be found in the city's small but complete museum.

Our stay here was short. The Germans had not attempted to bomb the bridge under construction or the crossroads, so our mission of protecting them was easy to accomplish. On Aug. 23, after only three days, we were on the road again.

SENS

Leaving Chateaudun the convoy headed toward the historical city of Orleans. Our ultimate destination was Sens, the city where the XII Corps had established a beach-head across the river Yonne two days previously.

These 45 miles were long ones, for many by-passes of isolated pockets of German resistance had to be made. Orleans itseIf had to be by-passed, as fighting on the southern fringes of the city was still in progress. Near St. Lye-la Foret north of Orleans it was decided to bivouac for the night. We pulled into the dense forest at 1600 hours in the afternoon.

The customary warnings about observation from the sky were handed down, and due care and precaution were taken to get equipment and tents well into the forest, using the heavy foliage as natural camouflage.

We were allowed to go into the small village nearby, where cognac, wines, and patriotic and pretty French girls abounded. In the village of St. Lye, then, we spent a great deal of time, exercising our charm and broken French on the mademoiselles. We heard all kinds of stories about the Germans and learned that they had been here only 2 days prior to our arrival.

Naturally we passed out cigarettes (international currency), candy, etc., and in turn received many favors. The whole town enjoyed our company and it looked like homecoming day. The people came out to talk to us and exchanged greetings and even kissed us.

When darkness fell, those of as who could disregard all the creeping, climbing insects that crawled over us by the thousands slept a quiet sleep. It was a dark, uneventful night.

Next morning found us up before dawn and stumbling over everything and everyone. We breakfasted and prepared to leave. As usual in the Army, all the rush was in vain, for the convoy lined up on a dirt road off the main supply route and we waited for two additional hours before rolling a foot. Meanwhile we kept the French busy getting us hot water for our Nescafe, because breakfast was over so quickly that most of us never had the chance to prepare morning coffee.

Finally with willing kisses and reluctant goodbyes, we started on the last leg of the journey to Sens, 60 miles southeast of The Dream City of the World, Paris.

Leaving St. Lye-la Foret, our vehicles were bedecked with the flags of the Free French Forces. The people in town cheered lustily, for the flags of their nation brought pride and joy to them.

The last 30 miles were eventful ones. The XII corps had raced through this area pursuing the German Army. After the tanks and supplies passed through, there was a lull in troop movements. It was during this lull that we came along. Naturally the ovation was terrific. Who will ever forget Cheroy! It was there that Captain Beer stopped the convoy and most of us went through the small town passing out cigarettes and sweets; in turn we received dozens of eggs, as well as calvados (apple-scented poison), cognac, etc. Kisses were given and taken and we wanted to stay for ever, but at the shout "Load Up" everyone scampered to his respective vehicle. We left the egg town, amid the cheers and blessings of the townfolk.

The approach to Sens was very beautiful. Rounding a curve on a high hillside, the road descended gradually. In the valley below lay Sens in all its glory. The first things to catch the eyes were the ribbon-like, twisting, clear Yonne River; secondly, the beautiful old Cathedral in the center of town; and thirdly, the sight of steam and smoke from the railroads. The advance of the 3rd Army's XII Corps had been so rapid that the city and its surroundings were undamaged.

The location of our position necessitated driving through the city proper and there we saw, surely, the most beautiful women of France.

Upon arrival at our designated spot, the usual hurried work of battery setup began. From constant emphasis and practice, each succeeding time the emplacement operation was performed more efficiently. Our sleeping quarters were in woods nearby, and again pup tents filled the area.

After all necessary jobs were done, we took a "breather". The people from the town began to arrive in droves, bringing peaches, pears, plums, apples, all kinds of fruit pies, vegetables, and everything imaginable. We learned from them that the Free French were battering the gates to Paris, and a strategic move by General Bradley of the First Army placed the city in an ever-tightening ring of steel.

The first night, Aug. 24th, was a very dull one for us. Not a single Jerry plane was in the vicinity. Some lucky fellows succeeded in obtaining a bit of sleep, but the MG's were manned, the guns were guarded, and the old reliable radar searched and searched all through the night, like a faithful watch-dog.

The next day hardly a Frenchman remained indoors. A national holiday was in effect. The capital city of France was officially liberated. We learned that both French and American First Army troops had entered the largest city of France and its proud capital. It meant a lot more to us, for we remembered the old saying, "As goes Paris, so goes France".

That night we finally added another passage to our symphony by firing 41 rounds of 90mm and 200 .50 caliber. With morning came a lonely F. W. 190 and he stayed long enough to receive 100 rounds of.50 caliber ammunition, and emit a puff of black smoke, after which he disappeared into the few hazy clouds. Those bursts marked the end of our action at Sens.

Sunday most of the Catholic fellows participated in the "Liberation Mass" at the Cathedral of St. Clement. The Cathedral, built in the late 13th century, showed little sign of depreciation and stood beautiful and majestic. As we entered, the organ played "The Star Spangled Banner", and he was callous indeed who did not feel a thrilling sensation in his spine and a surge of emotion. The Archbishop pontificated and delivered a long and impassioned sermon. In the middle of the mass the organ played "God Save the King", and at the end "La Marseillaise" for the first time in 5 years. The French wept openly -- boys and girls, men and women, young and old. Outside the Cathedral we were mobbed and kissed a hundred times or more and invitations of all sorts were extended us. All day long we gorged ourselves on pie, cake, sweets, salads, and sandwiches. Visitors kept arriving in droves. We found out that we were the first troops stationed at Sens and we liked it.

At this time 3rd Army Forces were approaching the gateway to Europe, the fortress of Metz.

The XII Corps had covered 250 miles in 16 days and we raced after them, protecting, as we did in Sens, rail and road installations and bridges.

Aug. 30 we pulled up our stakes and bade a sad goodbye to Sens.

VITRY-LE-FRANCOIS

On Aug. 30, after a trip of 91 miles, we reached the cathedral town of Vitry-le-Francois in the province of Champagne and selected a position on a nearby hill. From our coign of vantage we had a clear view of the mission entrusted to us -- the city and its important road junctions. The town revealed unmistakable signs of battle even from such a distance. It was here that the French Army put up its greatest resistance against the invading Germans in the early part of the war. In addition, Vitry was bombed by the British before its liberation. It was small wonder, then, that the town was filled with rubble and debris.

On the night of Sept. 3rd Jerry attacked and we engaged him, throwing up 41 rounds. He dove to evade our 90's, giving our machine gunners the opportunity to pour 490 rounds at him. In his dive he missed our equipment by inches, forcing the radar observer to drop into the pit below. Our next real excitement occurred about a week later when Jerry returned. He releasad a group of 22 bombs, luckily duds, just outside of the area. He lingered just long enough for us to send 18 rounds after him; then he "took off" in a hurry.

One particularly dark night 3 rifle shots, the SOS signal, rang out from the vicinity of the river below. A few snipers were known to be hiding in the city's intricate underground sewage system; many of us therefore suspected a trick. However, Cpl. Ross ran down to investigate. It turned out to be an accident at the blown-out bridge. It seems that the driver of a speeding truck failed to see that the bridge was out, and crashed into the gully below. Without hesitation, Cpl. Ross swam the river to give aid. Two of the occupants were already dead, but the third, an officer who fired the shots, still had life in him. "Doc" Meyer arrived in a jeep with more assistance. He administered first aid and rushed the patient to a hospital.

At this time disorganized groups of German soldiers were infiltrating our area in an attempt to make contact with their own lines. This was a definite threat to the security of the Battery, so volunteer patrols were organized to remove these local threats. Sometimes we were aided by members of the unmilitary but spirited Maquis. These French patriots armed themselves with all sorts of weapons ranging from pistols to rifle grenades, and their reluctance to take prisoners alive helped command much of Jerry's respect.

An eager patrol did get some satisfaction one day, as it helped a group of the Maquis capture 12 German soldiers. They had been hiding in a small woods, with the hope of returning to their own lines when we came upon them. They preferred to fight it out, rather than to subject themselves to the harsh, though probably well deserved, treatment of the French. When they recognized American troops, they stopped firing and raised the white flag and begged for first aid for several who had been hit. This was provided as well as transportation to the stockade.

By this time we were comfortably settled and were bartering regularly with nearby farmers. We received eggs, tomatoes, bread, potatoes, and wine in exchange for "C" rations, gum, and of course, cigarettes and candy. The strange part of it was that they were as well satisfied as we. Our enjoyable repasts were usually prepared over open fires early in the evenings.

It was also here that we had our first inspection in ranks since we landed on the beach. It was naturally greeted with supreme dissatisfaction, but we took it in stride with the rest of the "chicken" as being an integral part of the Army.

NEUFCHATEAU

We left Sept. 11th for an intended trip of 76 miles, but darkness and a German road block ahead necessitated an overnight stop near Aillianville.

The early morning found us on our way once again. We by-passed the road block and took up a position 4 kilometers (2.5 miles) north of the town of Neufchateau in the Province of Champagne. The town itself was in German hands. Our position was precarious. There were no friendly troops between us and the town. In fact, the only other unit in the vicinity when we arrived was a small detachment of Cavalry Reconnaissance, equipped with one armored car. Their assignment was merely road patrol, and they dared not penetrate farther than one mile south of us on a secondary road. An infantry division was moving towards the town from the southeast. They cleared the road block and captured the town in the succeeding days, after it had been pummelled mercilessly by our fighter-bombers. Though we were to see the assault of the town unfold before our eyes, this offered no consolation at the moment. The area was heavily wooded. Will the Heinies move in a northerly or northeasterly direction toward us, or will they move in the opposite direction?

Taking no chances, Captain Beer was quick to organize a small patrol to provide for the security of our immediate vicinity. The only opposition they encountered was the thorns, briers and thick foliage of the woods. Two of the group somehow lost contact with the rest of the party and encountered a large number of the enemy. It was here that our buddy, Dick Severn, was killed. Corporal Ross, after killing one Kraut, and through a series of daring and skillful maneuvers, succeeded in capturing eight of them single-handed.

Wherever our fighter-bombers appeared in strength, the Luftwaffe generally disappeared. Such was the case in this position, so we had no opportunities to fire the big guns.

HERGUGNEY

Since we had no air activity, the March Order on Sept. 13th was welcome. A 29-mile convoy carried us to a position already occupied by a Field Artillery unit near Hergugney, in the Province of Champagne. There we set up. Our confidence and morale swelled at the presence of the other unit and the realization that we are all part of the "team" was gratifying.

Since both our units were artillery, we had a close affinity. We welcomed the Luftwaffe, but looked to the Field Artillery for protection against the field pieces of the Germans. The Field Artillery, on the other hand, were equipped to counter the enemy artillery, but were insecure against attacks from the air.

Informal "tours of inspection" were conducted to satisfy our curiosity and break the monotony. The 155's barked intermittently day and night, but we had no occasion to give a demonstration.

CHARMES

Sept. 16th found us following the movement towards the front. We covered seven miles and occupied a hill southeast of Charmes. We were still in the province of Champagne. Upon arriving there, we were surprised to find ourselves surrounded by our own infantrymen. However, we were no more surpnised than the infantrymen themselves. For one thing, they thought it strange that a heavy 90 outfit should appear right up on the line, at a spot just captured a couple of days before and still within easy artillery range. Even more puzzling was our conduct. To begin, we arrived, as always, amid the confusion of roaring "cats" and shouting men. After a few warnings that noise and lights at night were particulary dangerous in this position, we gladly imtated the more experienced doughboys.

Again each outfit gave the other confidence. The riflemen now had no fears of air attacks, and we ack-ack men felt even "on the line". There was only one short course for the 90's here, yet it won us a place in the hearts of the doughs.

Early one evening a tank battle could be seen in the distance, and we were told that a "push" was in progress. The infantry advanced, leaving us to wonder what was in store for our recently acquired friends. During the next few days we were glad to hear the whistle of our artillery overhead as it indicated support for the advance.

While here, we experienced a real treat attending a Bing Crosby show in Charmes. Most of the fellows had never seen him in person and were deeply grateful that he should endanger himself for our entertainment. Of course, someone requested "White Christmas", a treat in itself.

LUNEVILLE

Sept. 21st brought a new assignment -- a position near Luneville. The primary position was not accessible so the 22 mile convoy ended at an alternate site south of the city. We emplaced near a company of T. D.'s, while an advance party, led by Captain Beer, investigated surrounding roads. As they entered the town, a few German mortarmen were seen and a Mark IV tank raced down a side street, so they decided to return and wait until it was safe.

After two days we moved a few miles to Herimenil, four kilometers (2.5 miles) from Luneville. Here we had a dual mission -- AA protection of roads and bridges, and more important, we played a part in the artillery attacks on strong points in the "Foret de Parroy", a dense wood northeast of the town. The Germans had strongly fortified, underground positions there which could never have been taken without this support. Not all the shells were outgoing, so we dug in immediately, in spite of a driving rain. Naturally, this was met with something short of complete satisfaction on the part of the men.

We contributed our 90's to a heavy barrage from pieces ranging from 75 to 240 millimeters. Our air bursts alone numbered 1087. We shelled at approximate fifteen minute intervals around the clock. Several 240's, just a quarter of a mile away, kept the ground shaking and our pup tents heaving, often making sleep impossible. Imagine Jerry on the receiving end! Our fire was termed accurate, and the results pronounced very effective by forward observers. Whenever possible, we were notified of the nature of each objective, and in spite of fortification, it was always destroyed.

Air activity was comparatively light, but it remained our regular mission; so constant vigilance was maintained. We tossed up 99 rounds, warding off occasional raids and safeguarding transportation routes.

On their way to the rear for a rest, battle-weary infantrymen often stopped to visit. They related experiences and asked about different outfits in the hope of finding friends.

Activity diminished after the first week, and since our work was completed, we began to receive passes to Luneville. The town offered little or no excitement, but we were satisfied to get away from army life for a short time. At first there was little to do but walk through the cobblestone streets in search of quaint little shops with suitable souvenirs, or a cafe where one could buy cognac. Later the Red Cross provided more recreation -- GI movies, ping pong, magazines to read, and best of all, coffee and doughnuts.

We learned at this position to appreciate Colonel Fraser. His inspections, his thoughtulness and consideration, his firmness and discipline seemed to us to be in the highest tradition of the army. Even now the mere mention of his name evokes feelings of deepest respect and admiration.

It was here that we were transferred to the 7th Army. General Patton sent a personal note of regret at the loss of our services and recommended us to our new commander, General Patch.

COMMERCY

Leaving Luneville on 15th October the convoy rode through the little village of Herimenil. Here we were now well known, for we had associated with the people rather freely, especially in the matter of laundry. Since we were on the move, it was almost of necessity, a Sunday. People were out in all their finery and gave us a royal farewell. The roads were fairly good, and we could see that most of the traffic was going in the opposite direction. Our destination, Commercy, 60 miles away, was far behind the line. Our mission was the protection of the road junctions and bridges of Commercy. Aside from this the most important accomplishment was the replacement of the worn out gun tubes with new ones.

As we expected, action was practically nil, but one night, our 90's with their new tubes sang a sharper tune than usual. We fired 34 rounds. No activity was had by the machine gunners. While engaging this target Gun 3 exploded and the breech block and retaining ring were blown out. Sgt. Staudinger was injured and was awarded the Purple Heart. Pvt. Ricci was also injured. Both were hospitalized.

Our quarters were undoubtedly the best we had since we left England. At a rock quarry which was situated about 5 kilometers (3 miles) from the city and which had been a Nazi slave labor camp, we found refuge. The buildings were fairly comfortable because Jerry had left his beds behind, much to our liking.

Despite the lack of activity, "trial fire" went on nevertheless, and even today the words "trial fire" bring moans and groans from all of us.

There was not much of interest in Commercy except a photographer, stationery stores, and much to our glee, a bakery that would sell us all the bread and cake desired. Each truck that came back from the 6 hour pass always had at least 15 to 30 loaves of bread and other foodstuffs. Our rations were good despite the fact that we were in a rear area; and the town supplied most of our extra wants. It was here that we had our first pseudo-ice cream.

It was at Commercy that Lt. Ray, who had been Reconnaissance Officer on the Battalion Staff, was transferred to our Battery, where he eventually assumed the duties of Range Officer. At this position, also, the Rev. Daniel C. DeCourcey was assigned to the Battalion as Catholic Chaplain. From that time on, the Catholic fellows were enabled to attend Mass and receive the Sacraments every week.

In this place we had more inspections in one week than in any other in a month. Life could not continue this way, and we felt the old restlessness for a movement. It came on December 6.

SARREGUEMINES

The 118th AAA Gun Bn. replaced us at Commercy on December 6th. We began the slow, long trip to Sarreguemines. It was to be a trip of 93 miles but only a small part of it was covered the first day. The route carried us through the long disputed province of Alsace-Lorraine. Here the reaction of the people was puzzling, as if they themselves weren't sure whether they were being liberated or conquered.

It was growing dark as we pulled into Chateau Salins, so it was chosen for our overnight stop. The trucks were lined up for the regrouping of the convoy in order to speed up the departure in the morning. We found a thoroughly modern hospital unoccupied, and since it was spacious, clean, and untouched by bombs or shells, we chose it for our quarters.

The town was large and fairly modern. Roofless buildings and battered walls told the tale of destruction that it had undergone. Save for about five people, the town was miserably empty -- truly a modern ghost town. Signs written in both French and German made it difficult to determine whether or not this was friendly territory. Souvenir hunters had the opportunity to rummage through the debris seeking out rags or ribbons bearing the Nazi Swastika and similar mementos.

Next morning with a good meal ("D" ration) under our belts we set out for the long, arduous trip ahead. The roads were congested, and bad roads in worse weather made the journey seem immeasurably long. Battered and burnt tanks (mostly enemy) could be seen on the side of the roads and in the adjacent fields. Road blocks were constructed at the entrance to towns and even the smallest hamlets. These blocks, intended to protect the town, ironically hastened their destruction, because our tanks, in an effort to advance, were prone to blast away at these obstacles. Since our ultimate destination, Sarreguemines, was inaccessible, we made another overnight stop at the town of Puttelange.

The advance party in search of quarters for the battery selected a church that had been badly damaged and deserted. One of the boys, seeing four large boxes, casually opened one of the lids and exclaimed, "Look there are statues in 'em". One of the sergeants being dubious opened the lid and quickly closed it saying, "Then why are they wearing socks?" The four corpses were the victims of bombing.

Half of the battery slept in the church with the deceased and the remaining half across the street from a cemetery. In order to complete the cheery situation it rained that night. The guard in the graveyard complained of loneliness. "Lonely? What about the Jerry in the Tiger Tank? What if his corpse was a bit charred?"

Upon entering the vicinity of Sarreguemines or Saargemund, on Dec. 8, we were under observation and within easy artillery range of the Germans across the narrow Saar river. Our orders were: avoid the skylines, select reverse slopes, seek the valleys.

Weeks of rain had made the low, protected position we were to take a mass of sticky clay mud. All equipment had to be dragged or winched in. This miserable wet weather never let up during our stay. It rained, snowed, or hailed nearly every day. The sun never shone, and the mud became wetter and more sticky each day.

The Germans were counter-attacking desperately to put the clamp on the 3rd Army's expected drive, or possibly as a feint to divert attention from important action elsewhere.

We had no action here at all, but were ever on the alert for paratroopers, as well as infiltrating enemy troops, for each night German patrols were discovered on our side of the river.

The second night in position we found out that artillery was incoming, and the unmistakable whine of shells was easily heard. Their objective was a crossroad nearby. The shots were poor ones, but their spasmodic firing had us worried, for these wild shots were unpredictable. They did succeed in routing "A" Battery with several casualties. One landed approximately 30 yards from the Range Section's tent, but fortunately it burrowed itself harmlessly into the soft, sticky clay.

News of trouble up north arrived, serious news at that -- a counterattack! The next day, all 3rd Army vehicles jammed the roads going north; in the opposite diirection came a trickle of 7th Army vehicles. Then the roads were really congested -- the 7th Army relieving the 3rd.

We wanted to get out too, and the time came. Much to our dismay we found ourselves actually "landlocked". On the radar we used 75 tons of tracked vehicles (5 cats) and the towing for two hundred feet required three and a half hours. Each gun had 2 or 3 cats to pull it out. This March Order was the slowest on record: 7 hours, at least. On the next day, Dec. 22, at 0900 hours we struck our tents. The rest of the mired trucks were then pulled out. At 1100 hours we were ready to leave. Hot "C" rations were distributed to each vehicle. We were off to the Bulge.