


          * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
          *                                                   *
          *   WHILE A BATTLE RAGED AT MORTAIN, I RELAXED      *
          *                                                   *
          * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

          After Operation Cobra, US forces really got rolling. In
          addition to the breakthrough at St. L, there was one to
          the west at Avranches. On August 1, Patton's Third Army
          was activated and began its dash across France. Shortly
          before this, the 8th Infantry Regiment went into an
          assembly area northwest of Mortain, which is about
          twenty-five miles south of St. L. Consequently, I had a
          welcome respite. My letters home reflected that I took full
          advantage of this, even though one of the decisive battles
          of the war was about to take place not far away.
          
          Dear Folks, July 31, 1944, Somewhere in France
          
          I am sitting in a very comfortable chair, at a writing
          desk, in the home of a very hospitable French woman.
          She is quite the most pleasant person I have met in this
          country. Her husband is a prisoner of war in Germany
          and has been since 1939. Consequently, she is not
          altogether happy with the New Order under which she
          was forced to live.
          
          Anything she has is ours. She forces upon us eggs,
          butter, milk, wine, etc. At noon today we had some of the
          most delicious ham I have ever eaten. All this is a treat
          we have not been accorded for many months.
          
          As for the war itself, you can see by the papers that it is
          going quite well for us. By the time this letter reaches
          you I have no doubt that big events will have taken
          place.
          
          Had a very enjoyable letter form Rita Perry. She is
          certainly an interesting person. Her correspondence is
          every bit as pleasant.
          
          Love, John
          
          Dear Dad, July 31, 1944, Somewhere in France
          
          Received your letter of the 14th, my birthday. Many
          thanks for your good wishes.
          
          Yes, Teddy Roosevelt was in our division from some time
          before D-Day until his death. He was a fine officer and
          soldier. The entire command loved him. His advice on our
          landing training was excellent. He landed with the first
          wave on D-day, a thing we all respect him for.
          
          He landed the same time in Africa and Sicily with the
          1st. He said, and I quite agree, the early waves are the
          safest.
          
          You speak of the 1st. There are few in this theater who
          won't concede that this is the outstanding division of the
          war, a crack unit that always takes its objective.
          
          We of the 4th feel that we are piling up a good record for
          ourselves on the continent. We've been at it almost
          without respite since D-day, with no sign of relief for
          some time, perhaps only when the war is over.
          
          We all feel we have earned a rest. But, we also agree
          that the longer and harder we fight, the sooner it will all
          be over. We see the end within grasping distance and
          wouldn't be surprised to see Germany fold up any day.
          I'm convinced we will finish Jerry off before the year is
          out.
          
          War has become our business now, and we go about it
          in a very professional manner, taking advantage of
          opportunities of luxury but living like animals when we
          have to.
          
          I'm very pleased that your health has progressed so well,
          and I look forward to hearing that you are completely
          recovered any day now. After all, you have spent most
          your life rearing a good family -and it is, and now it
          is your turn to enjoy the fruits of success, which I'm sure
          await your mere calling.
          
          Our battalion exec tells me my recommendation for
          promotion has gone in. This is relatively unimportant
          here in combat, but it should prove a good thing later on.
          
          Your son, John
          
          Dear Folks, August 7, 1944, Somewhere in France
          
          Things are going quite well, and we all have high hopes
          of completing our job of destroying the German army in
          France in the near future. However, if they want, the
          German army can go on fighting for some time yet.
          
          Love, John
          
          This letter demonstrated how out of the action I was. On
          August 7, the Germans launched a counteroffensive in
          the area of Mortain. This town was about four miles from
          where I was, and one spearhead came within about a
          mile. Hitler had great ambitions for this attack. He told
          Field Marshall Gnther von Kluge to drive to the sea at
          Avranches and then throw the Allied forces out of France.
          Von Kluge had more limited hopes, which were to hold
          the Allied forces long enough to establish a new defensive
          line. Although the German units succeeded in capturing
          Mortain and moving somewhat further to the west, our
          forces soon brought the counteroffensive to a halt and
          threw it back. Shortly thereafter, Hitler, who suspected
          von Kluge of involvement in the July 20 plot, summoned
          him to Berlin. Instead of going, he wrote a letter to Hitler
          pleading with him to find a way out of the senseless war.
          On August 19, he killed himself.
          
          I am basing this on research, since I have absolutely no
          recollection of the attack on Mortain. This is all the more
          remarkable, since the 4th Division Artillery played a large
          role in halting the German attack, by destroying a
          German column of vehicles the afternoon of August 7. Also, 
          the 12th Regiment was committed to support the 30th Division 
          and took heavy casualties in intensive combat. The battalion 
          I was with, however, was not involved in this fighting.
          
          A key reason for the defeat of this attack, as so much of
          what happened during the war, was that Allied commanders
          were following German military communications through the 
          intercept program Ultra. Hence, the attack on Mortain came 
          as no surprise.                                          


          GEORGE DE MEYERS AND I LIVE IT UP

          Once the German counteroffensive was repulsed, the 4th
          Division took a breather for several weeks. I took full
          advantage of the situation to relax, have fun, and think
          about the future.
          
          Dear Folks, August 13, 1944, Somewhere in France
          
          Lt. George De Meyers and I - he's one of the forward
          observers who works with me - are living in the home of
          an elderly French couple.
          
          Yesterday we both took our section swimming in a nearby
          lake. Then we had a duck and chicken dinner cooked by
          the madam and several of her neighbors. After the
          dinner, George and I went to visit some of the neighbors.
          The couple in question lives just across the road. The
          husband is Russian, the wife French, her sister a
          peroxide blonde. We had quite a time talking to them.
          Their home is in Paris, and they told us a great deal
          about living conditions there.
          
          The chocolate we gave them was the first in four years.
          Everything costs a small fortune. The Germans have
          taken everything to send back to the Reich.
          
          You might send stationary in your next package. Include
          in it shaving cream, some Ox Blood shoe polish, some
          Persona blades, and the type candy you sent before.
          Another thing that keeps and always goes well is a box
          of assorted nuts.
          
          I'll enclose my promotion notice, in case you're interested.
          
          Must go now, I have a three o'clock date for cocktails!
          
          Love, John
          
          Dear Dad, August 14, 1944, Somewhere in France
          
          So you recommend that I return home from Europe as
          soon as possible after the war is over. This sounds good
          to me. To be sure, there are many strings attached. It
          seems there are going to be many of us kept for
          occupation troops - TIME says 2,000,000.
          
          On the other hand, if one returns quickly to the States
          without a discharge, he is likely to find himself in the
          Pacific - something I am none too eager to see happen.
          One war is enough. I'm quite willing, as all of us are, to
          see some of the others who have not been in combat to
          finish off Japan.
          
          Twenty-four is not old, but when one adds the completion
          of a war and college, it is difficult to believe that all will
          be finished before the very late twenties.
          
          And it may not be apparent to you, but I can see that
          with all the girls I have as correspondents, there is none
          I know really well - all my best friends being now
          married.
          
          Nevertheless, these factors not withstanding, if they ship
          us to the Pacific, we shall simply growl a bit and go. But
          I hope not.
          
          Love, John                                               


          GEORGE AND I GET A TWENTY-FOUR PASS

          Dear Folks, August 17, 1944, Somewhere in France
          
          Boy, what a twenty-four hour pass! Best I've ever had.
          Didn't know you could have so much fun in twenty-four
          hours. Let me tell you about it.
          
          Lt. George De Meyers and I got a day off from noon to
          noon, a command car complete with driver, a bottle of
          Scotch apiece, and permission to go anywhere in France
          we wanted. Since Paris is not yet quite in our hands, we
          went to a large city about fifty miles from where we were.
          (Footnote: the town was Rennes.)
          
          Now don't start worrying that I've taken to drinking.
          You'll see the need for the whisky later.
          
          On our way to the town we stopped in a small village at
          a sidewalk cafe for a bite to eat. There we got acquainted
          with two very pleasant ladies. One's husband is Dr.
          Colas-Pelletier of ---, the city to which we were going. I
          don't remember her friend's name. Both were very
          attractive and very interesting to talk to. The doctor's wife
          speaks English - learned it in Shanghai - but her friend
          didn't.
          
          We talked for several hours, interspersed with freely
          flowing wine and sandwiches. The summation of the
          conversation was that they did not like the Germans.
          
          When we were leaving, I asked for the check. The
          waitress said that the madame had put it on her bill.
          But, no, we wouldn't hear of it. But we did, because any
          attempt to pay was politely and firmly refused.
          
          Off to a good start, we continued on toward ---. Nearing
          the city, we saw a hospital. And where there is a
          hospital, there are nurses. Sooo - we went into the area.
          It was right in the middle of a racetrack and consisted of
          tents. We wandered up to a group of pyramidal tents,
          where we saw some nurses. We started talking to them,
          introduced ourselves, and explained that we were looking
          for dates to go into --- for the evening. Really, they'd just
          love to, but they went on duty at seven. Why didn't we
          wait for the day shift to come off? We would.
          
          One snippy nurse came out of her tent and said, "Don't
          you all know that this is off limits to you?" George gave
          her the best answer yet. "Listen, girl, all I hear is off
          limits. I helped take the ground this hospital is located
          on, and I'll go where I please." May not be good
          discipline, but it expresses our attitude toward many of
          the silly and harassing rules they have in the rear areas.
          
          Well, we invited ourselves to their mess for supper and
          went back to wait for the day shift to come off duty. In
          the meantime, one of the girls heard us mention our
          whisky, and we had an excellent crowd around in no
          time. Clever girls they are too. One said, "I don't want to
          drink out here. Slip it under the tent, and I'll drink it
          inside." I did. But George, being wiser than I, smelled a
          rat. He went around inside the tent. And there they were
          pouring part of our whisky into their canteen.
          
          Well, to make a long story short, we got two dates and
          went into the city. There we went - at the doctor's wife's
          recommendation -    to a place called Ricci's Bar. Now
          the bar wasn't much, but you should have seen Ricci.
          She was as attractive a girl as I've seen in many a day.
          I offered her a drink, but she said, "No thank you. I
          never drink." Imagine. She says it makes her ill. I danced
          several numbers with her, and she was very good. She
          said it was the first time she had danced in four years.
          The Germans wouldn't let them.
          
          Anne, the nurse with me, said to Ricci, in a stage
          whisper, "Ricci, where's the little girl's room?" "The what?"
          "The little girl's room." "I do not understand, this little
          girl's room." George shouted, "She means the toilet." "Oh,
          the toilet, right this way."
          
          So we had a big time. They drank our whisky, a
          non-existent item for them, and we drank their
          champagne - excellent. The evening was marred with but
          one incident.
          
          Our driver came in and said that a lieutenant colonel
          from the M.P.'s was outside and wanted to see us. I went
          outside, reported to the colonel, and asked what the
          difficulty was. "Do you know this town is off limits to
          troops?" "I do not, sir. There were no signs up." "Well, its
          is. And besides your vehicle doesn't have a dispatch."
          
          Well, a dispatch is something we used in garrison and
          hadn't used in combat since D-day. It sounded almost too
          ridiculous to be true. I could easily have written one out
          myself but just hadn't thought of doing so.
          
          The colonel turned to the driver. "How long have you
          been driving?" "Three years, sir." "Don't you know you
          have to have a dispatch?" That was too much. I
          interrupted with, "Colonel, I don't want to cause any
          trouble, but this vehicle landed on D-day and for two
          months has been a tactical vehicle. And the driver had
          no way of knowing he needed a dispatch today." Well, the
          colonel started being a bit more reasonable and suggested
          I send the vehicle out of town and let it come back and
          pick me up. This I did.
          
          Such things are always difficult, but it is hard to explain
          how you feel when something like this happens on your
          first time off in some time. Well, c'est la guerre.
          
          Nevertheless, the whole pass was a huge success, and we
          returned to our unit on time and quite ready for duty.
          
          Mother, I've not succeeded in locating Brown's outfit. I
          doubt that the details of his death would make a picture
          his mother would want to see; they never do. She can be
          assured that as an infantry officer he was doing the most
          dangerous and difficult job any soldier does or can do. It
          is a post that can be fulfilled by - unfortunately -only
          our best men. Like many others, he probably died in the
          Cherbourg campaign, the most difficult and vital part of
          our entire operation to date. It is regrettable our sons
          must go like this, but, they go at it willingly and with full
          recognition of the cost involved. It is not easy for them or
          the mothers.
          
          But if you could see what a conquering nation has done
          to France, you would realize that the term "liberation
          armies" is not misplaced. For it is impossible to describe
          the appreciation all these people express for the work we
          are doing. It is not a shallow cheering, but a sincere
          thanks for the deliverance from the oppression under
          which they have lived for so many years, where so many
          of them were about to despair.
          
          My love to all, John                                


          VETERAN'S LONGING FOR OTHERS TO UNDERSTAND HIS EXPERIENCES

          Dear Dad, August 20, 1944, Somewhere in France
          Quite by accident I picked up a LIFE magazine and read
          the story of a war's veteran's return to civilian life. As
          this depicts, the process no doubt is not easy. In England
          I talked to many 1st Division veterans of Africa and
          Sicily. Many of them felt that not enough recognition was
          given by civilians to the real hardships they had
          undergone. And it irritated them that when they gave
          accounts of some of their experiences, the listener soon
          lost interest and made it obvious. This of course is
          inevitable; a person who has not been in combat can
          never even partially grasp its difficulty. I even find that in
          my own battalion. Those who work at the rear and have
          not been forward are not at all cognizant of the
          difficulties the infantry has. Then, we cannot be amazed
          at a similar reaction three thousand miles away by people
          untouched by war other than remotely.
          
          This is not wholly the fault of the "unexperienced." It is
          also partially the fault of the soldier who considers his
          actions to be heroic, or more heroic than they are. Rather
          than being silent, unless called upon, he becomes
          irritated at their lack of interest. Both could cooperate.
          The listener could listen occasionally; he would hear some
          interesting stories. The teller could cut out the grim part
          and accent the many funny stories that are bound to
          occur. Already I have had some lessons in this, in a brief
          visit to the rear. There simply is no response from the
          nurses, doctors and officers one talks to. We try to forget
          this business, but we go on talking about it, to an
          uninterested audience. It's a strange situation.
          
          John

          * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *          

          During the period in which these letters were written,
          Allied forces were dashing across France. In the process,
          they surrounded a large German force in what became
          known as the Falaise Gap. The destruction there was
          horrendous, and I was glad only to read about it.

          Eisenhower was anxious to capture some ports in
          addition to Cherbourg, which had only become operable
          shortly before the breakout. Some forces, therefore, moved
          west into Brittany, to capture Brest and other ports. On
          August 15, Allied forces landed in southern France.

          After a rest, the 4th Division moved across France, in
          the wake of the carnage left by Patton's armored
          divisions. August 25 found us just south of Paris. Early
          that morning, Sgt. Schroeder shook me and said, "Wake
          up, Capt. Ausland, we are going to take Paris."        