The second World War officially ended 75 years ago on Sept 2, 1945 — V Day. The documents were signed abord the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay.
More than 16 million men and women served our nation during World War II. Forty-five thousand gave their lives and 55,000 were wounded.
My uncle Jim Heiskell was one of those who served. Uncle Jim is now passed on but when reviewing some of his belongings I found his military papers along with an article from his unit of the history of the unit.
I thought it was a good time to share it. It tells of the life of a military man from one day to the next not knowing what to expect. After reading this we might all appreciate our military men and women and the service they give for us all.
Headquarters
488th Quartermaster Depot Company
APO 517
United States Army
December 5, 1944
Unit History
From all parts of Tennessee came a great influx of recruits into the Reception Center at Fort Oglethorpe, Georgia. Some businessmen, some students, clerks, and farmers. Representatives from all walks of life were present. A few had never been away from home before — desperate plight for most of us. Everything strange, a new routine of life staring us in the face, but all took the situation as it was, and forfeited themselves to the army.
We spent a week at the Reception Center doing much jobs as firing furnaces, kitchen police, shoveling coal, policing the campgrounds, and any job that were asked to do. Fortunately for us that didn’t last too long.
On the morning of March 30, 1943, around 5:30 a.m., we were gathered into a formation. Names were called, and we were told to prepare to move out. Speculation was high. Rumors were floating high and wide. Some had us going to Florida, some Virginia, and most of us thought that there was a much greater possibility of going to Virginia than any place. That would have pleased us very much, for Virginia is so near to our state, Tennessee.
On the same morning of March 30, 1943, we were crammed and packed into open trucks and taken to the railway station in Chattanooga. Everyone was calm but excitement was flickering in every eye. We were told to file on the train, and it was done in the usual slow but sure Army style. We carried our equipment in and hung it from the ceiling of our coach, and space wasn’t too abundant. We were then told to change from our woolen dress clothes to our cotton work or fatigue clothes. Everyone was expecting lunch, but we willingly did as we were told, and we prepared to ride.
Finally our expectations came true. Lunch, or as they called it “Chow”, was served. Weiners and sauerkraut in paper plates. A peculiar introduction to Army meals, for all of us had heard so much about the excellent Army food; nevertheless, it satisfied our appetites. As we were finishing our meal, the train pulled out from the station. Destination: unknown: “ A military secret.”
We rolled through the cotton lands of Alabama and Mississippi, through the cotton belts of Texas, and continued on our journey until we reached the desert sands of Arizona and California. Before we reached our destination, we were told that we had been placed in the Quartermaster Corps, but were not told of our new station. At about 2 a.m. on April 3, 1943, we were taken in trucks to our new home — Camp Cooke, California.
We were instructed to grab a bed in the barracks, and each grasped at the opportunity. All went right to bed, for we were worn out and fatigued by the long trip across the States, but our rest didn’t continue for long. We got up and stood reveille at 5:30 a.m. that morning.
We were then given a talk by Lt. Arthur S. Hohmann, company commander, who explained the purpose of our being there, and just what we could expect for the coming months. We received just what he told us; marches, firing range. Infiltration courses, close order drill, chemical warfare drills, and lots of bivouacs. That lasted for around 13 weeks, and I suppose we came up to expectations in our training. During this period, Lt. Wilbur C. Murry from Pontiac, Michigan, assumed command. and Forrest W. Wattenbarger from Nashville, Tennessee, took over as First Sergeant.
After our basic training was completed, we said goodbye to Camp Cooke, and started for the warmer climates. We arrived at base General Depot, San Bernardino, California, on July 22, 1943. We were introduced to a new type of living. Pyramidal tents were to be our living quarters instead of the comfortable wooden barracks. We were not accustomed to the sand, heat, and wind that we had to contend with. Open living was completely different, but we managed to survive. Our main duty was to operate Base General Depot, which supplied many railhead and supply dumps which spotted the desert sands of Arizona and California. Our job was to be administrative headquarters doing all the paper work that was necessary for getting food, clothing and equipment to the men who were training for desert warfare; and at the same time, get necessary training for future operations. During this period, Lt. Claude R. Vaughn, a sentimental gentlemen from Atlanta, Georgia, joined our outfit. At the present time, Lt. Vaughn has rendered a longer period of service with the company than any other officer under this command.
We gained much experience at Base General Depot, but we needed more intense training. We moved from the habitable part of the desert near San Bernardino, to the isolated sand dunes of Southeastern California. We were now located in the heart of the California-Arizona Maneuver Area which was named Camp Young. Not one of us can forget the feeling of being placed in the desolated wastelands far from the comfort that we had enjoyed before. We had our local post exchanges and open-air movies, which were good accommodations considering what we could have had. Our company was put through intense training covering every phase which we would need overseas.
During this training, we were also preparing for movement overseas. Boxing, crating, packing, requisitioning and securing needed clothing and equipment, were just a few of the problems we had to solve. We finally got the needed supplies and were continuing with our training just marking time.
On one cold morning in November, 1943, we finally received our movement orders. Everyone was busy securing and packing personal necessities. Speculation was again high. We were bound for the Southwest Pacific, for we were so close to a port of embarkation in California, how could it be otherwise. This rumor was soon quelled when we were told to turn in all of our suntan clothing. Well, it couldn’t be anywhere but England or North Africa. That was one consolation.
We boarded the train at Indio, California, and started on our way to the P.O.E. We traveled East, crossed the desert of New Mexico, the wheat belts of Kansas, quickly crossed the Northwest, and in four long days, we discovered that we had finally reached Camp Shanks, New York. There we again took care of all supply, administrative and medical matters, and we were given passes to visit New York City.
Each morning there was a rush for the buses, for we were going to have the time of our lives. Many of us saw the landmarks that we had always dreamed of. The Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, and many other sights which were new and fascinating. The Great White Way was no longer a story, but an actuality to all.
Our fun soon came to an end, and we were preparing for our departure. We arrived at the docks, took the ferry to meet the boat, filed off the ferry, and went aboard ship. We set up our bunks, and got our equipment ready, for we were ready to sail. We didn’t go so soon. We stayed on the boat in the harbor for 24 hours just waiting to move out.
We sailed from New York Harbor early in December 1943. Unfortunately, we discovered that the ship was English, but at that time, it made no particular difference, but we soon found out that it did. The meals, bunks, and accommodations were very different from what we had expected. The time that we spent on the ship was the most trying period that we had spent in the army up to that time. Everybody was sick, worried, or worn out. We can stand worse experiences than that when we start across the Atlantic next time, for the thoughts of returning home will be the cure for every ailment.
We arrived in England before Christmas. A very dreary rainy day. A small band was on the docks waiting arrival of the troop ship. The band was playing the ‘Beer Barrel Polka” in all its glory. Some of the men seemed excited, others doubtful. We were gathered into formation, marched from the boat, and were on our way to the heart of merry old England.
On the night of December 16th, we arrived in London. British women were at the station to meet us. They were driving the trucks and they drove to our billets. You could not see your hand before you. The night was pitch dark. Flashlights were frequently used, but precaution was exercised. We were very proud to think that we were located in the largest city in the world. It was exciting and different. We were getting “orientated” to the United Kingdom.
After we had received our “guides” and information, all were anxious to get out and see for themselves. Everybody wanted passes, and we got them. St Paul’s Cathedral, The House of Parliament, London Bridge, Windsor Castle, and all the other historical and interesting places were soon visited, for we did not know when our “visit” would terminate. Several received furloughs to visit Shakespeare’s home at Stratford-on-Avon, others visited Edinburgh, Glasgow and Loch Lomond. Really an interesting experience for all of us. Truly the most pleasant and satisfying seven months that we had spent in the army. Of course, we had our work to perform which was depot supply operations, but it was more like a civilian job than the regular army routine.
We can never forget the first sound of the air raid siren. All were excited. We ran for our gas masks, helmets, and started for the shelters. After we reached the shelters, everybody wanted to go outside and see the action, but of course, that was against regulations and again, regulations were broken. We soon got used to the sights of the searchlights, the explosions of the anti-aircraft shells and the constant droning of aircraft. In fact, most of the time we didn’t pay too much attention, but it did recall to us that the Britishers had told us before, and we could easily see how much blocks of buildings and homes had been gutted by the enemy. It made you feel as if you were also fighting part of the war, for you were standing up against the attacks in the same manner the civilian population did. We were in London when the “baby’ blitz came. It was the heaviest that we had seen, and heavy enough. We again saw what we had heard so much about, but we also went along having our good times, visiting the pubs, and going to the movies. We saw plenty of movies for they were the same ones we would have seen at home. We also felt the cost of them, for it was always “six and six” or more — to you, one dollar and thirty-two cents.
During this time, Captain Frank B. Stewart from Chattanooga, Tennessee, assumed command of the unit.
The most unusual experience that we shared in London was a rainy June night when we heard a very low plane. The sirens had sounded but we paid no particular attention. Very shortly, we heard the plane come closer, and then suddenly, the motor went off. A loud explosion was heard, and we took for granted that the anti-aircraft batteries had downed another plane. The next morning the newspaper said that a plane had crashed, but there was no pilot to be found and very little of the plane left. A few so-called planes were heard for three successive nights. On the fourth morning, the papers carried a story of the pilotless plane and gave few details. Everyone was very anxious to get a look at one. Well, for quite a while we saw plenty of them, and hated the sound they brought with them. It was extremely hard to go to bed not knowing whether or not you were going to wake up the next morning. A few of us would run to the windows and doors to see if what directions the flying bombs were directed. A dreadful sight to see. A missile flying through the air with a long tail of fire trailing and a noise that sounded like an outboard motor had suddenly changed the complete atmosphere of thinking in London. The invasion of the continent had begun and successes were achieved. Many wondered if our speculation was soon the truth.
One day in June we boarded the train in London, and headed for a new destination. We reached Southampton and stayed there a very short while. We boarded ship there, and were ready for come what may.
The next day we could see French soil. We could see the concrete pillboxes and the ruins of some that had been destroyed on D-Day. We could hear the roar of guns, and the explosion of mines. As we came closer to the shore, we could see an improvised airfield with several Thunderbolts scattered here and there. We knew that we were in friendly territory, but just how much territory we didn’t know.
We were loaded into LCT’s and started for shore. The water was rough, but we finally got ashore, formed into single file, and started up the long steep bank.
Before we reached the top of the hill, the rain began to fall. As we looked across the hill, we saw something white. Yes, it was white. Many white crosses in perfect lines crowned the summit of the next hill. A very discouraging sight, but true. We reached the top of the hill, and we took off our equipment and rested. We were told that we had landed at Omaha Beach. Of Course, that was the codeword given to it for security reasons. Our rest period was soon over, and we went into the woods for about a mile, and pitched our tents awaiting transportation. We were moved the next day to a small town by the name of St. Clement. There we saw many types of German fortifications. They were lined all along the beach and they proved very interesting to us, for this was the first time we had had to observe such. A German helmet here and there, some scattered ammunition, German overcoats, and other evidence which told us that this place had seen action.
The military situation didn’t seem to have affected the French population, for the regular routines of the French farmers were being carried out. To our surprise, we saw cattle and horses grazing in the grassy meadows of Normandy. A very impressive sight, since we thought that most of the cattle had been taken by the Germans.
While we were here only a few miles behind the lines, we saw one of the most impressive sights of the war. Around ten o’clock one morning we heard the distant drone of aircraft. Everyone started gazing into the sky. From several different directions, we saw hundreds of planes. The sun was shining very brightly, and the sky was simply covered with aircraft. First came wave after wave of Fortresses, then Liberators, Mitchells, and Marauders. Some of us tried to count them but there were too many. They began to come into formation for the attack. A very few minutes later, we heard the bursting of bombs, the ground trembled, the sides of our tents danced in the air. This continued for some time, and we were thankful that the planes were ours, for we wouldn’t have wanted to have been on the receiving end of the attack.
After the bombing was over, we decided to have a game of soft ball to pass the time away. We hadn’t been playing long when squadron after squadron of Thunderbolts began shuttling back and forth overhead. Some returned with holes in their wings, and some with parts of the body of the plane shot away. This gave us a very sensitive feeling for we were playing softball while very near us one of the most important battles of France was being fought.
The next morning we gathered around the radio to listen to the news from London. The news was that with a very heavy bomber escort the previous day, the Americans had broken through the lines and had taken St. Lo. It made us feel that we had seen the actual battle since the formation of bombers that had passed overhead the previous day had turned the tide.
We also had some experience with enemy aircraft at night, for the German air-force was concentrating on the supply lines and beaches. No member of this organization will ever forget the night that an enemy fighter came hedgehopping over us. Tracer bullets were flying everywhere. The planes came so quickly that very few got to cover, and it came as a surprise to all of us. Nightly raids were constant, and we soon got used to the visiting of the enemy.
We then moved to St. Jacques de Nehou for operations of a supply dump. We were supplying food for the front lines, and the work was somewhat fatiguing. We soon overcame this, for each Sunday we went swimming in the ocean at Barneville beach. The trip was taken in order to remove some of the dirt from our bodies, but the salt water was stronger than the soap. We found it an interesting experience just the same.
Our lines were moving so fast that our need for staying at St. Jacques was nihil. We were on alert for a forward movement.
We heard that the Americans has cut the Brest Peninsula and had taken Rennes. We were very optimistic about these successes, and waiting for order to move. We got our orders and continued to follow up behind the lines. We were going to a new destination to operate a large depot, and that is what we had longed to do. We arrived a L’Hermitage, just outside of Rennes for this operation.
We had worked at this same depot supplying the men at the front with food, equipment and clothing. The boys worked as long as 24 hours a day getting the “Red Balls” rolling on their way to the front.
Our company has finally achieved its mission. We have enjoyed the pleasures and successes that can be obtained in the army. Cooperation and teamwork have always been present within our unit, and we believe that this mutual attitude has been exercised to the highest degree due to the fact that a great majority of our boys are from the State of Tennessee.