


          * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
          *                                                   *
          *          CHAPTER 1: WHY I WROTE THIS BOOK         * 
          *                                                   *
          * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

          Shortly after I returned to the US from Europe in
          1945, my father presented me with a green metal box.
          It held the letters I had written to him and my mother
          during the war, as well as a diary I kept for awhile
          in England. Since I was a copious letter writer, the 
          collection nearly filled the box, which is five inches
          high.

          These letters have done a great deal of traveling.
          They have been to Germany, Yugoslavia, Australia, and
          Switzerland and have now come to rest here in Norway.

          Until recently, I found it impossible to read them.
          They contained many painful memories, which I preferred
          to bury in my subconscious. Specifically, this applies to
          the letters written between June 6, 1944, when I landed
          in Normandy, and May, 1945, which found me south of
          Munich. I also found it difficult to cope with a memory 
          concerning my return home.

          This, however, gets ahead of my story, so let's return 
          to the beginning of my wartime experience.
 
          Too impatient to wait for the draft board to get
          around to me, I enlisted in the US Army shortly after
          Pearl Harbor. At the time of the Japanese attack, I was
          twenty-one and living in Wichita Falls, Texas. I was
          attending Hardin Junior College during the day and
          working as a radio announcer at night.
 
          After three months basic training at Camp Roberts
          in California, I spent a hot summer in 1942 at the
          artillery officers candidate school at Fort Sill, Oklahoma.

          For some reason which now escapes me, I was anxious to 
          get into combat and asked for overseas duty. Bowing to my 
          wishes, whoever was making the assignments ordered me to 
          the Port of Embarkation in New York. There I was to join 
          the 4th Division, which was headed for North Africa. 
          Someone, however, in the Pentagon decided the 4th should 
          be saved for a greater glory. While visiting my mother 
          in Philadelphia, I received a telegram ordering me to 
          Camp Gordon in Georgia.

          After a visit to New York to see a girl I had known in 
          Texas, I traveled by train to Georgia. There I joined 
          the 29th Field Artillery Battalion, which was to be
          my home for the rest of the war. Initially, I was in A
          Battery. Later, Lt. Col. Joel F. (Tommy) Thomason moved
          me to battalion staff as Assistant S-2 or survey officer.

          Shortly before we left England for France Tommy
          decided to change my duties. Although we had liaison
          officers to the infantry battalions in the table of
          organization, for some enigmatic reason there was no
          provision for one to the regimental headquarters. Tommy
          made me, therefore, liaison officer to Col. James Van
          Fleet, commander of the 8th Infantry Regiment, which
          made the assault on Utah Beach.

          When Else and I returned to Normandy in 1984 for
          the commemoration of the fortieth anniversary of our
          landing on Utah Beach, the International Herald Tribune
          asked me to write an article about my experiences.
          Although June 6, 1944 is a day etched in my memory, as
          a precaution I opened the box and read the letters
          directly related to the landing. After writing the article, 
          I promptly closed the box again.

          During the war in the Gulf, I found myself upset by the 
          bombing. It reminded me of the bombardment which prepared 
          the way for our breakout from the Normandy bridgehead, a 
          gruesome experience. After a struggle with myself, I 
          decided it was time to confront the memories in that 
          green metal box.

          As a result, I have written a book about my experiences, 
          which I published myself, using my computer and laser 
          printer. This has my letters and diary as points of 
          departure but also includes recollections and excerpts 
          from books. I used in particular the US Army series on 
          World War II, which has detailed descriptions of the 
          battles, as well as excellent maps.                

