GUARDIANS OF FREEDOM
Saluting Those Who Served in the U.S. Army, Part 2
by Janis Stein

Join me in the continuation of Harold O'Neill's story as he takes us with him to Tennessee where he recalls his days practicing maneuvers in preparation for the 10th Armored Division's battles in France and Germany during World War II.

Although the Army had decided Harold could best use his natural abilities as a mechanic, while at Fort Benning a truck driver was needed to haul rations for the battalion, and Harold was deemed the man for the job. Harold was providead with a truck and some helpers, and the crew would go out at night, pick up the rations and return to Fort Benning. Once there, they sorted out the rations and broke them down for each company. When morning arrived, the mess sergeants would come to pick up their groceries, already planning their menus in their minds.

Although Harold was far removed from his home in Michigan, he soon learned home was where he hung his hat. After he got settled in Georgia, his young bride, Betty, made the trip south as well. She found a job at a local trucking company and rented a small bedroom in a fairly new house. Because she wasn't allowed to cook in her room, she soon found a few local restaurants that suited both her budget and her palate. Harold ate in camp and spent what time he could with his wife. It wasn't the beginning of the life together they had planned, but because of Hitler, it would have to do.

It was June of 1943, and Harold's division was preparing to travel to Tennessee where they would stay for three months, practicing maneuvers and continuing their training. Harold was in the day room with his comrades, crating up items they would be taking with them to Tennessee. As Harold was using a hatchet to drive in the nails on yet another crate he had filled, in walked a six-foot-tall, no-good, trouble-making private from Chicago. This fellow was plain mean. He had been working as a cook over in the mess hall, and whether they would openly admit their fear, all the new recruits were a bit scared of him.

The irritable cook approached Harold, telling him to hand over the hatchet. Harold wasn't about to give him the hatchet, because he wasn't sure what this unsavory character had up his sleeve. Harold threw the hatchet behind him in the corner of the day room, where it landed with a thud. Out of nowhere, the ornery cook's fist connected with Harold's cheek. The blow landed hard, and Harold was unimpressed. No one else liked the ornery private either; he needed to be taught a bit of a lesson, and PFC Harold O'Neill was just the man to do it. He wasn't exactly sure what the penalty for fighting in the Army would be, but there was no time to dwell on that issue. Drawing on his boxing skills, Harold threw his first punch, and though after a few jabs he wasn't even sure where he was hitting the bad-tempered private, he knew he was connecting pretty hard and rather frequently.

Having had the tables turned, the mean cook started hollering for help. The Sergeant was standing right outside the door, and he had no intention of entering the room. With an ear to the door and a smirk on his face, the Sergeant allowed PFC O'Neill to teach the boy a lesson so he wouldn't have to. When Harold had decided the private had taken enough, he quit hitting him, and the ornery cook seized the opportunity to run for the door.

Harold knew there would be consequences to face because of his actions, and from him, there would be no complaint. A few hours later, Harold was called to his Company Commander's office to answer some questions about the brawl. When the Company Commander asked him if he had given the private a black eye that day, Harold told his boss if the private had one, he had probably given it to him. Much to Harold's surprise, the Company Commander announced he was promoting Harold to Corporal. Furthermore, he told Harold if he gave the grouchy private a second black eye, he would make him a Sergeant!

Harold was by no means a violent man, and he quickly assured the Company Commander as long as the mean-spirited private stayed away from him, there would be no more fighting. On the other hand, Harold did believe in self-preservation, and he would stand up for himself again should the need arise. Harold was highly amused that while still in basic training, he had been promoted to Corporal, and a Corporal in basic was simply unheard of.

Unfortunately, there were accidents from time to time. On one such occasion, an Italian fellow was on guard duty one night when he accidentally got shot. The men were issued cheap submachine guns which, when the bolt went forward, it pushed the shell in the chamber and fired at the same time. To make life even more interesting, the gun had no safety on it either. Another soldier was walking along behind the Italian when his arm mistakenly knocked the Italian's gun. The gun went off, shooting the Italian in the heavy part of his leg. He was hospitalized for a few months, but he recovered just in time to go on maneuvers.

Since it was time for Harold to travel to Tennessee, his wife Betty packed her bags as well, returning to Michigan to live with her folks for the duration of his absence. Harold and his comrades drove to Tennessee in a 6x6; a standard truck used during the war with six wheels, the 6x6 had front wheel drive and a tandem axle. Though they would eventually be all over Tennessee, much of their time would be spent maneuvering in the woods along the Cumberland River.

The Army had decided Harold would continue to haul rations for the seven troops in the squadron. Given a map and two trucks, Harold and his buddies ventured out each night in search of the Quarter Master where they would pick up the next day's rations. Though the Italian kid, who had been accidentally shot back in Georgia, was supposed to be in charge of hauling the rations, when they got to Tennessee, he found he couldn't stay awake at night. The Italian would fall asleep while behind the wheel and run off the road. Although Harold didn't have the title, he more or less assumed responsibility for the two trucks.

Harold and the other men ventured out each night at 10 PM; they were not allowed to go until the night sky was black. No one on the highway was allowed to use their headlights. Since civilian headlights would blind any Army personnel, they were not allowed to travel through this region with their headlights on either. The idea was to get the men used to working in the dark, because once they were overseas, lights would surely attract unwanted attention.

The Quarter Master belonged to the 10th Armored Division, and following their map, Harold and his group would find their location. A bunch of semi trucks would be lined up in the woods, and Harold would go from one semi to the next, picking up rations as he went. At this point, Army rations consisted of fresh food, and nothing was artificial. Rations included beef steak, pork steak, produce, milk and coffee. The Army even had their own bakers to bake fresh bread. Once both trucks were loaded, they traveled back to camp and broke down the rations in order to have them ready for the mess sergeants when morning arrived.

During maneuvers in Tennessee, Harold was still working for the same commanding officer who had promoted him to corporal. And now the Company Commander thought Harold owed him a favor. He told Harold there would be more officers coming out of headquarters, and he wanted extra rations immediately, instructing Harold to take allotted rations away from the enlisted men. In reality, the officers already on site were the ones who would be enjoying the extra calories.

Harold was a man of principle, and he wasn't about to take food away from the men who needed it the most. Giving a noncommittal answer to his commanding officer, Harold instead sought the advice of a Major in charge of the Quarter Master. Harold had gotten to know the Major pretty well, and following his advice, upon Harold's return to camp, he told the Company Commander if the officers wanted double rations they could be obtained for a price of 25 cents per day. This news enraged Harold's commander, because he assumed Harold would just take food away from the men as he had requested. Harold, in turn, wasn't exactly thrilled with the Company Commander for having placed him in this situation. Furthermore, the Italian was really the man in charge of hauling rations, and Harold should not even have been involved. At that point, Harold did not even care if his commander busted him back to a private - he was sticking to his guns. Harold would soon find in the days and months ahead, it would not be the only time the two men would butt heads. In fact, it was only the beginning…

After three months in Tennessee, Harold traveled with his unit back to Georgia, this time to Camp Gordon located in Augusta. Upon arrival, Harold was rewarded with a ten-day furlough. During that time, Harold returned to Detroit to see Betty, and using her car, he traveled back to Huron County to help his mother on the farm.

Meanwhile, Harold's Company Commander had decided to go into the maintenance field, and when Harold returned from his leave, the papers were already made out for his next assignment. Apparently, the Army had decided it was time to enhance Harold's natural mechanical abilities. His papers indicated he was being sent to Fort Knox, Kentucky, where he would attend a three-month tank mechanic school.

For the next three months, Harold spent his time concentrating on nothing but tanks. While Harold and another soldier were the only two men present from his squadron, there were approximately 55 men in his class. Every two weeks, the instructor would begin teaching the class about another tank component. For instance, the crew spent 14 days learning all there was to know about the engine, and during the next two weeks they would focus on the transmission. In the morning, the tank mechanic students sat in rapt attention, watching movies about transmissions or whatever component they were currently learning about. Afternoons were consumed with hands-on work. Benches upon benches were filled with transmissions, which were repeatedly taken apart and reassembled. The instructors explained all the parts and components, providing valuable information these men would later rely on when they were out in the field. At the end of the three months of tank mechanic school, soldiers were expected to know all the parts on the tank, take that tank apart and put it back together again. It was a very good school, and Harold graduated with the knowledge he may need to save his life during the uncertain months ahead.

All those graduating from tank mechanic school automatically were promoted to sergeant. The company commander at the school filled out the appropriate paperwork, sending it to Harold's commanding officer for his signature. Eventually the company commander at the school contacted Harold, telling him something was wrong; his promotion did not go through because his papers were returned unsigned. Harold told him not to pursue it, knowing exactly what was transpiring. Harold's Company Commander was still disgruntled over the fact Harold had refused to take rations away from the men so the officers could have extra, and now he was getting a little revenge.

The Company Commander's decision not to promote him to sergeant cost Harold a $16 per month wage increase. When Harold joined the Army in 1942, he was paid $50 a month for his services, not that he ever saw all of the money. After allotments were automatically taken out for his wife and mother, Harold was paid $13 a month for serving his country - mere pocket change by today's standards.

After graduating from tank mechanic school, Harold rejoined his unit still stationed at Camp Gordon, near Augusta, Georgia. There, Harold was placed with three other men and given a half-track. The half-track was a tank that looked like a truck on top, and it had wheels on the front and tracks on the back. Harold and his tank crew would use the half-track to simulate how they would use a tank retriever once they were deployed overseas. The tank crew trained at Camp Gordon a year and a half, going out on weekends or a full week at a time, practicing drills and strengthening their skills.

During his time at Camp Gordon, Harold was considered to be part of squadron maintenance. Squadron maintenance did not have anything to do with the regular everyday upkeep of the trucks. Rather, they went out to inspect the work of others. The 10th Armored Division had one tank company with light tanks and another with light tank chasseys with artillery. It was one of Harold's duties to inspect these tanks from time to time, ensuring the equipment was being properly maintained.

Life was pretty good at Camp Gordon. His wife, Betty, had returned and found a place for them to live half way between Augusta and Camp Gordon. Harold would get up each morning at 5 AM in order to catch a ride back to camp. Although the public buses had designated stops in town, there was a law in Georgia at the time, which required buses to stop and open their door at every stop sign. When the bus stopped at Harold's corner and opened the door, he seized the opportunity to hop on the bottom step. If the bus was already full, the driver would allow Harold to ride on the bottom step for just ten cents instead of the standard quarter. Once he arrived at Camp Gordon, the Army had buses to deliver the men to their specific company.

June of 1944 proved to be historic with the Normandy invasion, and Harold, much like the rest of the world, watched and waited. Three months later with two years of training in the states under his belt, Harold and the men in his company received word they would be traveling to France. They would first have to travel to New York where the troops would board a liberty ship - one of many ships built exclusively for the war effort. Harold would soon find the first day aboard the ship was an event in itself, and in mid-September, 1944, the 10th Armored Division sailed for France.

One by one, about 2000 men were loaded onto each liberty ship; there was a man on either side of Harold, and they sent him down three decks below the top deck into the ship's cargo hold. Bunks, six high, were pulled down, which consisted of a piece of pipe and canvas. The enlisted men were thrown into a bunk with their duffel bag and told not to move.

When the hold was filled, and it indeed was full, Harold's liberty ship, along with 31 other ships in the convoy, set out on their 12-day journey from New York Harbor to Cherbourg, France. The ships had to travel in a convoy, because there was still the continued threat of German submarines lurking below the mighty waters of the Atlantic.

The troops were packed in tighter than sardines - farmers today would never load cattle so heavily. After the first day, Harold and a host of other soldiers could no longer stand the stench, because many of the men had gotten seasick. Several took their blankets and their duffel bag and bunked on the liberty ship's deck, sleeping under the star-filled sky. While what lay ahead was uncertain, many looked forward to arriving at Cherbourg simply so they could get off the boat and walk on solid ground once more.

After 12 days afloat with no German submarine attacks, the 10th Armored Division landed at Cherbourg. Because the harbor was filled with a multitude of boats, which had been rolled over and sunk, the men were transported the final distance via landing craft. The landing craft was a small vessel used for invasions. Each craft was about 20 feet long and 12 feet wide with a gate on one end. As many men that could fit were loaded on and transported across the harbor. Once across, the gate was dropped and the troops walked off the landing craft and onto Cherbourg's beach.

While more troops had arrived, their equipment had not. With only their duffel bag and no jeeps, trucks or tanks on hand to support them, the men set up their camp in a big cow pasture. The cows had occupied the area right up until their arrival; many of the men were careful to sidestep the evidence they had left behind. The troops were scattered across the pasture, sleeping in pup tents. A pup tent was really only half of a tent and had to be shared with the tent of another soldier. The two halves would be put together, and it was just high enough to crawl inside. There would be only six or seven soldiers assembled in a group; any more people gathered in one spot would be disastrous should the Germans break through the line and drop a bomb.

Be sure to look for the continuation in next month's issue where I will describe the conditions the soldiers faced upon arriving in Cherbourg and the beginning of the 10th Armored Division's advancement across France.

Copyright © 2005 Janis Stein