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Hill 122
We drove down on reconnaissance, through the ruins of Pont l' Abbe, a little town
the 358th Infantry had taken a few days before. We had fired all the artillery available
into it for a steady 45 minutes, and dive bombers had completed the job. I have seen a lot
worse since, but at that time it was the most thoroughly demolished town I had ever seen.
The people had the dazed, apathetic look that we were to see so often. Then we crossed
the river on a long ponton bridge and saw the parachutes and a few bodies of unlucky
paratroopers who had landed in the river or on its marshy banks.
It had seemed to me that it was asking a lot of a regiment (about one-third of a
division) to make an attack where an entire division had just been holding still, and I
mentioned that to an officer of the 82nd Airborne whom I met while on reconnaissance.
He had been crossing a field with long, quick strides, and I thought I saw a silver
star, the insignia of a brigadier general, on his collar. I blinked, telling myself that it must
have been the silver bar of a first lieutenant - this lad looked barely old enough to shave.
It was a star. He was Brigadier General James Gavin, Assistant Division
Commander of the 82nd Airborne. He returned my salute and asked what I was doing
there. And in response to my comment about a regiment relieving a division, he said
mildly, "The thing is, your regiment has so many more troops than my division. "
[Ten years later, Lieutenant General Gavin (three stars) inspected my battalion at
Will Kasern in Munich. He was a great man, and would have eventually become Chief of
Staff if he had not openly opposed the Viet Nam War.]
South of the river we found positions near the village of Grettville and brought the
battalion down after dark to occupy them. Our CP was huddled along a hedgerow in a
mulberry orchard at the edge of town.
Next day Major Peach and I looked up the 359th Infantry CP to find out what the
plans were. They were to attack almost at once-next day, to be exact. We looked at the
map. Directly in the path of our advance lay a large hill. The crest of it was marked on
the map with the altitude-122 meters, or about 400 feet. The reverse slope was covered
with woods labeled Foret de Mont Castre. I had no idea then how tired we were going to
get of looking at that map, or how indelibly all the details would be impressed on us all.
We did not jump off as scheduled - nor did we for about ten days. There was bad
weather on the Channel, and supplies and ammunition could not be landed fast enough to
support our campaign and the one to take Cherbourg too. Cherbourg was vital. Until we
got it and had the port in running order, everything would have to be landed on a beach,
with only makeshift port facilities and subject to the fickle Channel weather.
I'm glad we didn't know how long it would be before Cherbourg was in working
order. We would probably have been too scared to go on fighting. At any rate, we waited
until Cherbourg fell. Then we heard that the Germans had wrecked all the harbor facilities
before they surrendered, and it take some time [months, as it turned out] before it could be
repaired and made fully operational, so we would have to go on without it.
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