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The Peninsula
Whee-ee-eel Here it came again. We both hit the ditch. Now I know that it is not
true that you ever hear the one that hits you, because that one didn't land more than ten
feet from us. Fortunately, there was a hedgerow between us and it, but there was a break
in the hedge inches away from my head, and the blast of side spray cut the dirt just in
front of me. I jumped up and ran back across the road to where the battalion commander
was.
It was late afternoon by now, and the battalion commander asked me the question
I had been dreading. "Can you fire your artillery for us?" Of course I couldn't unless I
could get communication with my battalion somehow. I thought it over and decided that
the best thing to do would be to find Curtis' wire and see if it was working yet. So I
walked back to try and find it.
As I walked, I congratulated myself on the fact that enemy firing, including the
close artillery fire, had left me calm. I had been mildly scared, but not really terrified or
even nervous. Cool and collected.
Just then a tiny dog ran out from a farmhouse and barked at me. I jumped about
eighteen inches.
Sure enough, I couldn't find the wire or Lt Curtis or any of his crew. I apparently
was the only artilleryman, with a whole battalion of infantry to take care of. My mind had
to function - I had to think of something. Finally it clicked. The infantry had radios. They
could talk to their own battalion CP. Their battalion CP should have telephone
communication with the 915th. It wouldn't be ideal, but it might work. I found one of the
infantry radios. Could they get the battalion CP? No, their set was on the blink. So was
the second set I tried. The third one worked OK, and their CP could talk to ours by
telephone. It would work! Now all I had to do was borrow a map from someone.
I went and reported my findings to the battalion commander. "OK," he said, "but
it's getting late and I'm almost on the objective, so I think we'll just button up [stop and
go into a defensive position] for the night where we are, so never mind." He added that he
had sent for the battalion's vehicles with a resupply of ammunition, chow, and the CP.
We moved back to the farmhouse where we had originally stopped. The farm girls were
out milking the cows, elbowing the soldiers out of the way. The soldiers were buying fresh milk,
hard cider, and Calvados (an extremely high proof apple brandy) by the drink and requisitioning
hay to sleep on. The peasantry, although they did not seem wildly enthusiastic about our
presence, at least were friendly and cooperative, seeing that their home was intact and business
was excellent. I didn't drink anything, although the milk was certainly tempting, because we had
been warned about undulant fever and tuberculosis in European cattle.
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