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Doug Myers was the first to recover, proving that he was the right man for his
job.
The first thing he did, of course, was to get the command post on the road to the new
position, but as soon as we arrived, before he even got around to making his assumption
of command official, he put the rest of the officers present to work writing up a report of
what had happened that day and the exact time of each event. Right away, while it was
still fresh in our minds. Maybe we could still save Col Peach, or at least his reputation.
Sounds easy, but it wasn't. Although our memories of what happened were at least
similar, there was little agreement about the times, and after we had argued for awhile,
each of us became less and less sure about anything.
Besides, by that time we already had a new battalion CO. Major Bob T. Hughes
arrived at five p.m. and assumed command. Doug Myers' tenure was brief - less than two
hours.
The following day, when we received Bixby and Theimer's version, in the form of
a bill of particulars to prove Peach's misdeeds, we knew that it was full of errors, but we
would have trouble proving it. It was our memory against theirs, and everybody knew
who would get the benefit of the doubt.
I think I was the one who remembered the battalion journal, in which PFC Levine
entered every event of importance and its time to the nearest minute. That would solve
our problems!
But PFC Levine was in the hospital. The headquarters clerk had been pressed into
service as a substitute, but he had not been trained for his new duties. The journal during
the time he kept it was too sketchy and jumbled to prove anything.
Eric Peach came back to pick up the rest of his gear and to clean up a few
administrative matters. He didn't say anything about being over forty or requesting
transfer back to the U.S. As a matter of fact, he said he expected to be transferred to
Corps Artillery and possibly given another battalion to command.
Hughes went over to Peach and I heard him say, "You know, Eric, I'm not the
least bit interested in taking this job under the circumstances."
And Peach said, "Thanks, Bob, but there's no reason for you to feel that way
about it. And I wish you all the luck in the world."
It was inevitable. The situation had been tense ever since Bixby assumed
command of Div Arty, for he was a commander who wanted to be able to say "Jump!"
and have everyone jump without stopping to ask silly questions like "How far, sir?"
Peach was not a jumper. He wanted to take his time and not be rushed.
Things could have been a lot worse. The arrival of Bob Hughes was a sort of
homecoming: he had been with the battalion from its activation at Camp Barkeley until
he was wounded in Normandy, and had actually commanded it for a few months between
Col Pierce and Maj Costain. If he had been on duty when Costain was killed, he surely
would have taken command then.
Major Bob T. Hughes (Bob was really his name: he had legally changed it from
Robert) was a short, wiry Oklahoman whose weather-beaten, pug-nosed face generally
wore a smile. His chronically sunny disposition made it a pleasure to work for him, once
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