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Arnhem: Headlong Into Hell

by Bruce Barrymore Halpenny

Since the Arnhem slaughter, film makers and historians have re-fought the battle. So, too, ex-Paratrooper Jack Cooper; for him it was not battle strategy but just a matter of trying to stay alive.

Operation Market-Garden was a combined airborne and ground offensive. Market, the airborne phase of the operation; Garden, the ground phase with tanks massed along the Belgian-Dutch border. It was Field Marshal Montgomery’s scheme to end the war before Christmas, but was one of the Allies’ most ghastliest mistakes.

In front of Lt. Gen. Brian Horrocks’ XXX Corps tanks was a 60-mile stretch that had four major water barriers. The object was to capture intact the bridges in front of the British Second Army at Eindhoven, Nijmegen and Arnhem respectively. XXX Corps tanks could then outflank the Siegfried Line and invade Germany and pierce its industrial heart, the Ruhr.

It was to be done in a single maneuver by dropping the mightiest airborne force ever known behind enemy lines. Three airborne divisions—two American and one British and the 1st Polish Independent Parachute Brigade. There were 4,700 aircraft of all types involved: bombers, fighters, fighter-bombers, troop carriers, and more than 2,500 gliders. The Douglas C-47 Dakota, the workhorse of the Second World War, was the main aircraft for the parachutists.

Major-General Robert E. Urquhart of the First British Airborne Division had the principal target, the three-span concrete-and-steel highway bridge over the Lower Rhine at Arnhem. This objective was the furthest point from the Garden forces and without this bridge the operation would fail—and fail it did as history shows. The Red Devils went to Arnhem with the knowledge that they would be relieved in forty-eight hours, but against overwhelming power they held the area north of the river for nine days and nights. The courage and self-sacrifice of the Arnhem Paratroopers was superhuman. But their losses were enormous and the First Airborne was almost annihilated. Out of a strength of 10,005 they lost 7,578. Major General Gavin’s 82nd U.S. Airborne Division lost 1,432. Major General Taylor’s 101st U.S. Airborne Division lost 2,118. The number killed, wounded, or missing for the entire operation was 13,974.

The heaviest losses were sustained by the 4th Parachute Brigade. By the 22nd, casualty returns showed that only one hundred men remained of the 156th Parachute Battalion, and the 10th Parachute Battalion had only thirty men and all officers had been killed.

The 1st Airborne Division’s attempt to capture the Arnhem bridge commenced as planned on Sunday, 17 September 1944, and they should have seized their objective while the 1st Air-Landing Brigade cleared the landing zones, before the arrival of the 4th Parachute Brigade the following day.

It was just before 2 p.m. on Monday, 18 September, that the first wave of the 6,674 airborne troops along with approximately 600 tons of supplies, 681 vehicles, and sixty artillery pieces neared the drop zone. One of those in that first wave was Paratrooper Jack Cooper and at twenty-five he was already a hardened veteran, having joined the Army in 1939 and fought in North Africa, Sicily, and Italy. A short while earlier he had taken off from his Cottesmore base, south of Grantham, and now he sat listening to the drone of the Dakota’s engines as it neared the drop zone south of the Ede–Arnhem road, his thoughts fleeting between his wife Eileen back at his home town of Market Rasen and what lay ahead. “Stand by”—the green light flashed and Paratrooper Cooper flexed his toes and fingers as he waited his turn to jump; the next moment he was out of the aircraft and falling through space.

His rapid descent was halted as his chute blossomed above him. The sky was filled with men and parachutes, but he could not take in the magnitude of it all. As he looked down he could see shells and mortars bursting all over the landing zone and that he was dropping into some pine trees. Tugging desperately at his parachute lines to avoid the tracers from the waves of incendiary fire that spat up to welcome him, and at the same time correct his descent from landing in the trees and the inferno, he managed to come down in a clearing. He hit the heathland with a jolt and quickly chucked off his harness, looking around as he did so for he could hear the stutter of machine guns close by. He had landed close to two other paratroopers.

“What a bloody hell-hole we’ve dropped in … must be the bloody wrong place,” shouted one of them as they quickly teamed up with him and at the same time he bent down to pick up some heather. As he did so there was a hail of bullets and as he stood up the other two were already falling down dead. They had been killed in those split seconds that he had bent down to pick up the heather. He crouched down and looked around him, expecting another burst of fire, but it did not come.

The sky was filled with hundreds and hundreds of parachutes and burning aircraft. All around him the dull thud of mortar bursts, a holocaust of death and destruction. A nervous excitement gripped him as he picked up his .303 rifle and ammunition, then hurriedly headed for the assembly point, weaving and crouching as he made his way, past many dead bodies. His brigade was the 4th Parachute Brigade under Brig. John W. Hackett, and Cooper recalls, “It was chaotic and confusion reigned everywhere and I had great difficulty making for the yellow smoke signal for the firing was continuous.”

He dashed across to some trees amidst a hail of bullets and as he dived for cover two more paratroopers did likewise. Surfacing from behind the fallen tree he was confronted with a body, hanging lifeless in a tree by the parachute harness.

“It was eerie, for the dead man’s hand swung to and fro in front of my face and I could hear the ticking of the watch,” recalled Cooper. He turned away and at the same time fired in the direction of some bushes, where firing seemed to be coming from.

“They’re Jerries and I think it’s us they’re shooting at,” Cooper remembers shouting, but getting no reply he turned to find that both paratroopers were dead, with blood streaming from the head of the one nearest to him.

Not waiting to be next he scrambled out of the shell hole with a last glance at his two dead comrades and the dead man’s watch still ticking in his ears he made a dash to another shell hole and was immediately joined by two more paratroopers. As they surveyed their position they came under heavy fire. The Red Devils returned the fire simultaneously and saw the three Germans fall. Immediately they jumped up and charged forward, firing as they did so at the still bodies in front of them. They were three Waffen-SS and their skull insignia a macabre identification. Cooper recalls, “Instinctively I poked my rifle barrel into the side of the German and turned him over … he was dead and I instantly bent over and ripped off the black SS insignia as a souvenir.”

From their drop zone, Cooper and a small group moved out and made their way along the railway line to Wolfheze. There was heavy fighting en route and Cooper killed five more Germans, his second with a shot through the head and chest and he collected the cap badge for everything else was blood-stained. Four of their group had been killed, but they had killed many and taken some prisoners which they handed over on reaching Wolfheze.

“At Wolfheze I searched the Hotel Van Dijk and in the cellar shut out the horrors of the war while I ate a jar of pears,” remembers Cooper quite vividly.

As darkness settled in the fighting was still fierce all around with dead and wounded everywhere. The paratroopers were split up and it was little bands of men running all about with nobody to lead them and lacking communications. No one had any idea what was going on or what to do next. There were Germans everywhere and they appeared to have the upper hand for tanks and self-propelled guns roamed everywhere.

Like the Germans, the British requisitioned the Hartenstein Hotel in Oosterbeek and, from the evening of 18 September it was the headquarters of the British First Airborne Division.

On the 19th, Cooper and a few other paratroopers formed under Capt. Kavanah who decided that he and Corporals Bell and Wiggins would take the jeep and try to get through to brigade. Cooper recalls, “They had only gone a few yards when they were cut down with a murderous hail of machine gun fire.” With the loss of their captain they decided to make their way to Arnhem via Oosterbeek. The situation was now very serious for the bulk of their supplies had dropped into German hands. The lightly armed paratroopers were no match for the German armor. However, one in their group, a Pvt. Laws, did have a PIAT (anti-tank weapon) and he managed to stop a Tiger tank, but they were now running out of ammunition. “The stench of death was all around us and there were dozens and dozens of dead bodies and I remember seeing a Dutch family covering some of the British paratroopers with white sheets,” Cooper recalls.

As they fought their way into Oosterbeek, Cooper and two other paratroopers took prisoner six German women soldiers. They put them in a tennis court with a wire around it and used it as a prison cage. “Very appropriate,” recalls Cooper, for before the war he was Capt. Flannigan for the lion tamer at Skegness. During the night as one of the paratroopers took one of them to the toilet she stabbed him to death. She was promptly caught and shot.

Two nights had passed and they were now pinned down in the Hartenstein area. During the ensuing days, without sleep and food Cooper and his brave comrades were almost continuously engaged in very fierce fighting. Tired and exhausted they fought on as the enemy brought to bear on them, at very close range, six-barreled Nebelwerfers, mortars, 88-mm guns, machine guns, flame throwers, and infantry attacks with phosphorous ammunition. Cooper was living minute-by-minute and having to use the guns from dead Germans for he had long since been out of ammunition for his own rifle.

Having run out of ammunition, Cooper and another paratrooper holed up one dark night and, as they settled into the shell hole, two tanks approached them and came to a halt a few yards away. Two of the tank crews got out and as they moved towards Cooper he cowered down in his make-shift foxhole, expecting death—instead, he and his comrades were urinated on.

By the 24th the position was impossible and, under cover of darkness, the first and main part of the withdrawal started the next night and the remainder of the men, apart from the more seriously wounded, pulled out just after dawn on the 26th. For Jack Cooper it was too late for on the 24th he was captured. Having managed to re-equip himself from a dead German, he and two others were fighting from an upstairs bedroom window of a large detached house when all at once a Tiger tank smashed in the house side.

Vividly Cooper recalls, “Suddenly the floor had gone and we were down in the kitchen. Me and a lad called Hatton, we scrambled out of the house and ran across the road into a sort of park but was cut down in a hail of bullets. Hatton was killed and they hit me in the leg and stomach and I fell to the ground with blood coming from my stomach.” The SS infantry came and gave him a kick, rolled him over and left him for dead, along with the others. He lay there in a semi-conscious state and heard them move off.

With the darkness came the rain. Wet and in great pain he managed to turn on his side and get from his pack the bottle of White Horse Whiskey that he had picked up while in the house. He kept drinking it during those long dark painful hours and, fortified with the whiskey and the supreme courage to live, he survived the night and was found the next morning by two SS men. Cooper recalls, “There was one with a long black mac on, an officer, and a blonde private. I remember him pointing a gun at me and thought he was going to shoot. Then they fetched a door from somewhere and an old rug and laid me on the door, put the rug on me and took me in a little old shop where they gave me a drink of coffee and a bit of bread and then they started interrogating me. They even knew from three days before we left England about two that had been promoted from privates to corporals.”

As he lay in a semi-conscious state, a medic went to work on his two bullet wounds. In a very crude fashion the bullet was taken out of his kneecap, but no attempt was made to remove the one from his stomach. His wounds were then bandaged with paper bandages and he soon after was moved to Arnhem and then to a big school in Apeldoorn that was being used as a hospital for the SS. It was like a Red Cross collection center for wounded and he was made to clean their boots while lying on a stretcher.

Except for Cooper, all the other soldiers were Germans and it was here that one of them, who could speak a bit of English, asked him for his name and address for he said when the British came they would shoot him. He thought that to show his name they would be lenient with him. Cooper gave him a photo which was later found on a dead German and with having the name and address on it was sent to Waterloo Street, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, and at the time it was a mystery as to why and how the photo came to be on a dead German and made news in all the national newspapers, including The Times.

After a few days Cooper was moved from his work bed in Apeldoorn to Stalag 7A. This was a prison camp just outside of Munich and the journey by train, in cattle cars, had taken over a week. By the grace of God he survived the journey and was taken straight to prison camp sick quarters and they removed the bullet from his stomach. After only four days he was cleaning bomb rubble in Munich.

On 27 April 1945 they were liberated by the American Seventh Army at Effringham and on 11 May, Paratrooper Jack Cooper was back in the arms of his wife.

Today the severe pain from his wounds is a constant reminder of the “Black Monday” when he dropped headlong into hell, but he is proud to have worn the Red Beret and fought at Arnhem. In a letter dated 28 September, Field Marshal Montgomery wrote:

In years to come it will be a great thing for a man to be able to say—”I fought at Arnhem.”

The plan could have worked but the main flaws were:

British intelligence should have been better, for the truth about German troops in the Arnhem area was disregarded.

The opposition was underestimated.

The choice of dropping and landing zones, to effect surprise, were about eight miles from the main objective.

For the First Airborne, failure to land enough troops in the first 24 hours.

Radio communication failed completely and commanders had to use runners as in World War I.

No airborne command post was set up as was done at Corregidor with great success.

Also, where were the reconnaissance light aircraft or fighters?

Adverse weather conditions delayed the 4th and Polish Brigades.

The 390 tons of ammunition and supplies that were dropped on zone ‘V’ north of Warnsborn fell into German hands. During the battle at Arnhem only seven percent of the supplies fell into First Airborne’s hands.

I agree with General Jim Gavin who was of the opinion that if it had been Patton’s tanks waiting on the border, they would have rolled into battle, regardless of the consequences, and that was what was needed. But, sad to say, Patton was not involved.

 

A GI’s Wartime Letters

edited by Ray Merriam

The following are all excerpts from a series of letters written to various members of a U.S. Army soldier’s family during the war. They provide many interesting insights to the writer’s experiences, feelings, comrades, etc. (The material not published from this series of letters dealt with the writer’s family and other personal matters that would be of little value to anyone else; in some cases it would make little sense to any other readers.)

Sunday, 5 December 1942

Battery “A,” 12th AART Battalion

Fort Eustis, Virginia

I went into the Army the latter part of July and went to Fort Devens for about a week to get clothed and classified, etc. Then I was sent here to Eustis. The first two months consisted of pretty intensive training in the basic things of the Army—mainly physical conditioning with some training on the anti-aircraft guns. It was plenty tough—mentally and physically. The next couple of months I spent in a different outfit learning to be a radio operator. This was a lot of fun once I got started. Now we have just gotten back from two weeks of maneuvers—where we lived out of doors and slept on the ground during that time. It was a lot of fun. We are now all through our basic training and will probably get shipped to another camp for advanced training. However, the future is very indefinite. I hope to keep on in radio. However, I seem to have gotten in the Army just at the time when opportunity and advancement are very much limited. This, at first, was very discouraging to me—but now I accept the fact and would just as soon remain a buck private as become anything higher—provided that I get a job that is definite and which I can handle and enjoy. The Army is a great experience but a lot of time you are damned discouraged and tired and feel that the whole business is SNAFU—a favorite Army expression meaning “Situation Normal—All F---ed Up.” On the whole I’ve not minded it much.

Tuesday, 24 February 1943

“Somewhere in Tennessee”

We have been on maneuvers here for six weeks or more—which means living outdoors all the time and under simulated combat conditions. It involves a lot of hard work and often there are several days when you go with practically no sleep and not knowing when you’ll cat [nap] next. It wouldn’t be too bad if we had good weather—but we’ve been having lots of rain and cold weather. My main job is driving a radio car and operating the set with three other fellows. It’s not a bad job although promotion is pretty difficult to get since the company has been organized for quite a long time and I am a relatively new man. Although promotion would suit me fine, I feel that as long as I try to work hard and do my best I’m satisfied. After all this is all an emergency job and not a lifetime occupation (I hope!).

I expect to be down here in the Tennessee mud for at least another three weeks if not more. After that we have no idea what will happen although rumor has it that we’ll go overseas soon.

Thursday, 12 October 1944

39th Signal Company,

APO 26, France

Censorship prevents me from telling very much about what I’m doing and where I am. France is quite a beautiful country but when the weather’s bad and living isn’t so easy you wish you could get out, as you probably remember from the last war. [This letter was written to the soldier’s father, who served in the Army in World War I, seeing action in the trenches in France.] The war has made quite a mess out of a lot of places here. I think, however, that the French people are a little better off than many people at home imagined. Nevertheless, I wish a lot of people could see some of these things and talk with some of our men here and they wouldn’t be so complacent about this war.

Well, I’ll have to finish this off. This V-Mail hardly lets you get started.

12 January 1945

Luxemburg

I was very much interested in your discussion of the Japanese-Americans in the U.S. and the problems involved. You mentioned two ways of attacking the problem—working with the people and educating them to the effect that people should be evaluated as people not as nationalities or races. I think your two attacks are the ideal ways but the latter certainly presents a lot of practical problems in how to educate them. The reason I’m interested is that I’m concerned over what’s going to happen to post-war Germany. Being fairly close to Germany, seeing the results and hearing of their methods of fighting—make it a very cogent problem. The Stars & Stripes is full of letters and editorials on the subject and it’s one hell of a problem as far as I can see. The absolute necessity that our (the Allies) treatment of it be thoroughly successful make it one on which everyone should do a lot of thinking.

Luxemburg is a very nice country—the people are very pleasant and the countryside truly beautiful at present—very rugged with many snow-covered pine forests. However, one doesn’t have much occasion to do much enjoying of either one. It’s cold—bitter cold—and things aren’t rolling along as easily as everyone wishes. It all just adds to one’s intense disgust and hate of this dirty, rotten business.

Tonight we’re in the home of a very nice Luxemburg family who are also housing another family whose home was destroyed. The way the people take this is very inspiring—not a single word of complaint. This is almost always the case—they keep on working at their farms and trying to keep well enough fed and warm enough without any signs of distress or panic—which is more than one can say for even some soldiers.

15 February 1945

France

As you know we’re back in France after a very active time in Luxemburg. Now things are dead—we’re all restless and anxious to be doing something more active toward finishing this business up.

You asked about various little things such as food, sleep, etc. Compared with the infantrymen we have a very good life. Even during our busiest times one can get a little sleep every night. Cigarettes are plentiful—I wish I could send some to you but “iss verboten.” We get seven packs a week as part of our rations which also include gum, candy, shaving necessities, soap, and toothpaste.

The food situation is good—we get hot meals except for rather rare occasions when we eat C or K rations. For a while, up in Luxemburg, we only got two rather mediocre meals a day. But usually we have three. Our kitchen is excellent—compared with some. Breakfast is always the same—hot cereal and pancakes or French toast. Today’s meals were pretty typical—roast lamb (more like mutton), rice, canned corn, and canned pineapple, bread and butter, was the noon meal. For supper we had stew, mashed potatoes (made from dehydrated potatoes—and not very good), bread and butter, and oranges. The beverage is always coffee—weak with lots of evaporated milk and very heavily sugared.

The main problem about sleeping is getting a place to sleep. If one is lucky he can get a place in a house, either in a bed or on the floor. An excellent place is a barn where there is usually lots of straw and the animals keep it fairly warm. Sometimes we have to sleep right in our vehicle but it’s awfully cramped and crowded. Before the winter weather started we slept in pup tents sometimes. At present we’re very lucky and are in an ex-German barracks where we have beds, central heating, running water, and electric lights (the power being our own).

It’s terrible hard to tell about life over here—especially when things are pretty lively. We find most people have terrible misconceptions as to what war is like—but it’s difficult to put it across.

24 March 1945

Germany

Things have been so busy and rushed lately that I haven’t had time to do much but work and sleep. The reason being, of course, the big drive to the Rhine and, we hope, beyond very soon.

By now I’ve seen a good many German towns and people and I should have some good observations with which to discuss post-war problems in Germany. It’s hard to tell just how they should be treated—the war has left them pretty well indifferent to what happens. Most of them don’t show any signs of any sort of emotion when we take over—except for a few who show resentment and dislike or fear. There are no signs of the fanaticism of the Nazis—they know that it’s all over for them. The lower classes seemed to have suffered from small rations but some of the people who were high politically seem to have an abundance of food and clothing. I make these observations from the houses we take over to sleep in. The one we are in now belongs to a pretty poor family. Their clothes are shabby and they have little to eat. However, in the house of what was apparently a German major, there were ample evidences of a very abundant living—a cellar full of cigarettes and different liquors, about twenty or thirty parcels of chocolate, and so forth.

We are forbidden to talk to the people so one can’t find out how they feel even if one knows the language. I’m inclined to agree with you that the long-range solution is economic security. Well, it’s one hell of a big problem which is too much for my feeble reasonings. I think the United Nations are going about it pretty well so far. Germany has that attitude for war and militarism which makes the use of force one thing which they will respect.

I almost forgot to mention my pass to Paris a couple of weeks ago. I spent three glorious days there seeing the city, drinking a little, and enjoying the spring weather there. I saw a friend who had been in Paris right through the occupation and had many things to tell about those miserable years while the Germans were in Paris. Of course Paris is having a tough time right now with next to no fuel or food and its undoubtedly a far cry from pre-war Paris. It’s almost a miracle that it’s practically the only major European city to have survived virtually unscarred.

One of the exciting things of this push into Germany has been seeing great numbers of freed Frenchmen, Poles, Russians, and other nationalities who have been slave laborers and prisoners of war under the Germans. One sees them all along the roads trudging towards France. It’s quite a pleasing sight to see a big sober-faced Mongolian in a ragged Russian uniform walking along the same road with a bunch of German refugees who have lost their home. I suppose this is a pretty hard-minded way of thinking. But after hearing of the untold numbers of cruelties imposed on these prisoners we can’t help feeling hate for each and every German.

Tonight’s the first time since I left Paris that I’ll get a full night’s sleep. [I have] my bed roll here on the kitchen floor. Unfortunately I don’t have a bed tonight—although we’ve been lucky lately and have been able to find houses with plenty of nice soft beds. However, the floor is good enough and I’ve had much worse places to sleep.

Hope that the cigarette shortage isn’t so bad. I’ve got cartons of them.

Monday, 23 April 1945

Germany

This past month, ever since I got back from Paris, has been the busiest time since I’ve been over here. My time is divided between working on the radio and trying to grab some sleep in my sleeping bag when we’re not moving. It is rarely that we stay in one place more than a day.

Since we left the Saar we’ve seen a lot of Germany. With spring almost at its height the country is just like a picture and the checkerboard fields, the forests and the neat little villages look almost like toy models that someone had very carefully and methodically arranged. The other day we went along one of the Autobahns which almost could have been taken for the Parkway. The day was the warmest and brightest so far this spring and it seemed very incongruous to have tanks and guns and an endless assortment of Army vehicles rolling across this seemingly peaceful countryside. How the people of this land can be so warlike is very strange. To say that I have no sympathy or liking for the Germans is putting it very mildly. After seeing what is left of the Nazi regime and all the evidences of their warlike nature one can’t be forgiving. The people, when we take over, are at first sort of shocked and frightened and then begin to act friendly… which fools some of us, but not many.

A common sight is truckloads of German prisoners who are, for the most part, only kids. Some look around twelve years old and their uniforms are ridiculously large for them. Well… they are a hard people to understand.

That incident I mentioned that was so memorable was just what you guessed, the night we crossed the Rhine. It was very spectacular. There was a thick fog of smoke hiding the pontoon bridge which made it very eerie. Then, the German planes came over in the largest number I’ve seen (which doesn’t compare to the large numbers of our planes which we see every day). The combination of brilliant green and white parachute flares and the terrific anti-aircraft fire which streaked up at the planes were something I’ll never forget. Once or twice a plane would brave the fire and come down to strafe… which is not a pleasant sensation because it seems as though he is aiming at you personally while he may not be anywhere near you.

We live on a consistent diet of C and K rations which by this time are very tiresome.

12 May 1945

Austria

Shortly after getting your last two letters we got the word of Germany’s unconditional surrender. As if to celebrate the event the weather has become almost like summer, a welcome change after a spell of cold, rainy, and even snowy, weather. Also we began to get some good meals, after almost two months of C and K rations.

Our state of mind now that the war here is over is rather difficult to describe. Mingled with feelings of relief is the feeling of uncertainty as to what will happen to us now. There seems to be little doubt that the majority will end up in the Pacific area sooner or later. They announced the point system in regards to discharging a certain percentage of the Army. My total of points is very low due to a relatively short time in the service, no children and only a moderate amount of time in combat. I’m not counting on anything one way or the other.

While the big-wigs are deciding our future we will be going to school of one sort or another. There will be courses varying from practical to academic given within the division. Converting an infantry division to a sort of university isn’t the easiest thing to do. At any rate we won’t be having pure military training. The country here in this part of Austria is lovely now that summer is practically here. I’m afraid, though, that it will be a long time before this part of the world gets back to normal. Already it’s plain that the food situation is going to be a very difficult one. I guess the Germans will now appreciate what the Dutch and the Greeks and many others have gone through.

So far the end of the fighting hasn’t made much of a change in my day-to-day life. Our work still goes on, although I suspect that in a few weeks we’ll be reorganizing and so forth.

 24 May 1945

Czechoslovakia

V-E Day wasn’t very different from any other day with us. Naturally there was no “day off” and there wasn’t any celebration in particular. We’re living in what used to be a resort and our house is called “Villa Beata” although it isn’t so “beata,” being pretty run-down. At any rate, it’s a vast improvement over the smelly farm houses we’ve had lately.

I guess by now you’ve heard that I received a promotion. It was a pleasant surprise. I had almost resigned myself to being a T-5 for the rest of my days.

There is no longer any censorship by our unit and everyone is very glad of that. It took quite a while to get used to the idea that your own officer was reading every letter you wrote. Actually, it made practically no difference when you realized that he couldn’t possibly remember your letter out of several hundred others.

While the details are still fresh in my mind I think I’ll write out sort of a history of things that have happened since we left the States now that the censorship has been relaxed. [He never did.]

25 May 1945

Czechoslovakia

Your V-E Day letter got here a few days ago and it seems that practically everyone I know wrote to me on that day. That day wasn’t very eventful for us for several reasons. One, of course, was the premature announcement of the surrender. Also, there was some doubt as to whether the Germans in our sector were really giving up as they were still fighting furiously with the Russians to the northeast of us. At the time we were in a small village in the hills north of Linz called Aigen, a very beautiful and picturesque spot. We stayed there until just a couple of days ago. There we watched thousands of German prisoners accumulate in an improvised PW cage just below us. By the time we left it turned into a mammoth camp of improvised huts and tents with a special wired-in enclosure for the SS and other suspected criminals.

The civilians seemed glad it was all over and I guess the bulk of their day was that we got there before the Russians. It was a close call for them as there was a Russian outfit not far from us. For the last two weeks there have been exchanges of visits and much firing of salutes. Some of our outfit went to the Russians with a radio car for communications. They said it was a continuous party with the drinks flowing freely. The Russians can out-drink Americans any day and a toast consists of downing a tumbler of vodka or cognac in one gulp. The Russians are far more friendly and enthusiastic towards the Americans than vice-versa from what I hear—much hand-shaking and embracing.

Now we’ve moved north to Czechoslovakia. It looks as though we will have a period of reorganization and then some schooling in all sorts of subjects from which we can choose. There might be an opportunity to be sent to a university in France or England. Of course we don’t know what will happen to us in the next few months as regards the Pacific or going back to the States. Those with sufficient points will be discharged. My point total falls way below the necessary number so I don’t even consider that possibility.

Your president was certainly right in saying that we would become bored and impatient—we already are. However, there never was much, if any, “glitter of victory”—it’s just that after months of hard work, fast moving, and the uncertainties always present in combat, the waiting and reduced tempo of life is hard to become adjusted to. Furthermore, we lose a lot of the freedom we had in combat—that is, now things are far more regimental and we put up with a lot of little details of Army discipline and training which were absent during combat. This comes under the name “chicken” in Army slang.

Well, we still work on the radio—eight hours on and eight off. However, there’s so little doing that it leaves scads of time to read, write, etc. Oddly enough, now that there’s time to do those things you’ve wanted to do for a long time, one tends to fritter away the time and accomplish nothing in particular. The long hours in the truck on duty leave little time for recreation or exercise but at least one is free from company details and training. We have movie nightly now—which is enjoyable after a long time of not seeing any but there aren’t very many really good movies. At first I got a great kick out of even the worst grade B picture but now I’m becoming more finicky.

12 June 1945

Prachatice, Czechoslovakia

As to what the future holds for us—you know about as much as I do. Apparently we won’t be leaving the ETO within the next month or so. Today it was announced that the 3rd Army would be in the Army of Occupation [A. of O.] but that means little to us as 3rd Army units have left and arrived in the States and elsewhere already and the same can happen to us—and I feel it will before the end of the year. Until that time we will be occupied with a regular routine—school, training, athletics and work on our equipment. Although I have no basis for such an attitude, I find myself practically counting on being home pretty soon for a while. There’s no doubt that, unless left here in the A. of O., I’ll end up in the Pacific sooner or later. Needless to say I don’t relish the idea.

We are comfortably quartered in what used to be a spa (we figure any place with shower baths over here is called a spa). Our food is good and there are lots of movies and other diversions so life here isn’t too bad. The country is very pleasing although the weather is on the rainy side (I guess the YD [Yankee Division] wouldn’t be at home in any other kind of climate. This part of Czechoslovakia is the Sudeten and there seem to be as many Germans as Czechs although it’s hard to tell just what they are unless they wear a uniform. I guess eventually we will move back into Germany once the Czechs are organized to take over.

The soldier who wrote these letters did make it home by the end of the year and, of course, he did not wind up in the Pacific Theater.

Although many more letters were written home by this soldier, these were the only ones still available. They were not all written to the same person, hence some duplication in subjects covered.