THE LANDING AND NORMANDY
On June 3, 1944, a hell of a hot sultry afternoon, we left Cardiff’s Heath Camp for the Cardiff
Docks. Dressed in cotton underwear, long johns, 1 pair of wool socks, 1 pair of wool impregnated socks,
wool O.D. uniform, impregnated fatigue uniform, impregnated shoes, field jacket, full field and rain
coat, we marched 5 miles through Cardiff, Wales and melted to a stop at the dock area in an aroma
surpassing any known odors! The Batteries Headquarters, A, B, and Service, filed aboard the SS
Charles C. Jones (MT 209) and C Battery boarded the SS Charles D. Poston (MT 210). Clutching our
sack lunch, we learned our assignments, explored the Liberty ship, and found our howitzers and vehicles
already waiting for us. After satisfying our curiosity as much as possible, we bedded down for the night
on the steel decks and in the holds. Daylight, June 4th found us en route from the Dock area to Barry
Bac, Wales. It was on the beach of this some bay that we three days ago had tested our water proofed
vehicles. The reasons for those tests began to dawn on some of us with new seriousness. We remained
here until early morning June 6th, 1944.
Wales and England slipped out of view by late afternoon. On the morning of June 8th, after a
relatively peaceful channel crossing, we steamed into Utah Beach off the Cotentin Peninsula, France...
Here the battle was raging. Destroyers patrolling the beach were constantly shelling the shore line and
bluffs, battleships loosed salvos that caused all of us to shudder. The ship to our left buckled at the
sound of a terrific explosion and disappeared in twenty seconds time. We saw water spouts from enemy
shell fire rising all about us – the bulks of sunken ships – the dismal stacks of a ship protruding above
the water – a half-sunk destroyer still firing on the enemy shore installations. We watched a fortified
French village crumble away to rubble under the severe pounding of the battleships Texas and Nevada.
On the beach, troops and equipment unloaded and vanished between the mysterious explosions.
With night came the enemy planes. They strafed and bombed the beach and harbor, illuminating
the hundreds of ships and the sausage like balloons overhead. Anti-aircraft fire laced the sky, our ships’
machine guns fired overhead. In the midst of all this excitement, an explosion occurred which rocked the
SS Jones three quarters out of the water. Everyone bolted from their stations. “Hit a Goddamn mine”–
minutes passed like years, life preservers were at a premium. Finally, as nothing more happened, we
relaxed.
We unloaded. The worries, the fears, the sweat of the men who did the job will never be fully
appreciated. The 13/ton tractors and 6/ton Howitzers were swung overboard and lowered to the LCT’s.
The gun crews, drivers, wiremen, and the rest of us climbed down rope ladders and boarded the landing
craft as our vehicles were loaded. Earlier our reconnaissance parties had landed. Many or their vehicles
were stranded beneath the water. Some are still on the Normandy beach. Our “Recon” parties guided us
safely into position as we came inland, and the journey was packed full of exciting moments – mined
roads, snipers, planes, and the dead.
June 9th, 1944, near Loutres, France, we fired as never before. In action supporting the attack by
the veteran 82nd Airborne Division, our first combat efforts were rewarded by the many expressions of
gratitude and appreciation from fighting men of the 82nd. To be complimented, sincerely, by veterans
like those was the highest award we could ever hope for. Their praise was above any official reward –
and we had so soon proved ourselves worthy!
In Normandy, the marks of war were harsh: the dead had not been removed – puffed bodies and
bloated animals lay in the ditches, and the fields. A stench that didn’t jibe with the apple blossoms and
flowers persisted. The Chaplain always had a large congregation. God was wanted then.
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