HISTORY OF 573 RD AAA (AW) BN S/P

June 10, 1943 to September 2, 1945

     Since the activation of this battalion on 10 June 1943, it has been my privilege to lead as fine and  representative group of American fighting men as have ever been assembled.

     A great part of the "luck" of the "lucky 573rd" has not proceeded from chance. The hearty cooperation, the willing self discipline, and the initiative of each individual in absorbing the lessons of training, contributed to it. Ours has been the experience of meeting and overcoming obstacles through the application by all of good American common sense. We have demonstrated the desire to get along together and the ability to do a disagreeable job speedily and well.

     And "lucky" we have been in assignments, in action and in comradeship. Of even our battle casualties there were neither deaths nor permanent disabling injuries. Accidents, sickness and the discomforts of the field have been at a minimum. Such a record speaks well for every individual in a unit. We have learned quickly the hard lesson that each of us is his brother's keeper, so that, in the close knit framework of a combat organization, even a minor slip by a soldier in an apparently unimportant post may endanger the lives - or the liberties and privileges - of his comrades in the whole command.

     This lesson in mutual responsibility, tried in the flaming cauldron of war, must be carried back with each of us to our civil life if the peace for which we have fought is to endure. It is the greatest lesson a soldier can learn.

     To all of you, officers and enlisted men, who have so generously given me your confidence, cooperation and support, I wish the fullest measure of success and happiness in your future life. And I sincerely hope that our paths may cross again, that we may renew the comradeship of battle. My door and my heart will always be open to any member of the battalion.

(signed)

John M. Welch

Lt. Col., CAC

Commanding

Index

ORIGIN AND TRAINING     P.O.M.    FAREWELL TO AMERICA     THE BRITISH ISLES    

ON TO GERMANY     V-E TO V-J     POSTWORD     CREDITS
 

ORIGIN AND TRAINING

     Historic Cape Cod, in Massachusetts, added another leaf to it's book at Camp Edwards on June 10, 1943, in the form of the activation of the 573rd AAA AW Bn. Good fortune smiled and, as subsequent events have shown, a kindly fate followed the Battalion through all its varied history.

     Following activation a capable cadre gradually assembled and was assigned to the different batteries. Furloughs, promotions and work consumed the time until the recruits began to arrive soon after the middle of August, 1943, to enter "basic training." That early period in the mind of the average new inductee took on the proportions of a never ending nightmare of constant changes from suntans to fatigues, fatigues to suntans so many times a day that the men became quick change artists able to report at the end of a three minute "five minute break" in a different uniform. Between these changes were classes on every phase of military life in field and garrison alternating with dismounted drill, obstacle course runs, hardening or "judo" exercises, small arms fire at the camp ranges, hikes of ever  increasing length under a pack of ever increasing weight, crawls over the infiltration course, and bivouacs.  The arrival of the jeeps, trucks and halftracks meant new training in driving and in 1st echelon maintenance. Proficiency in artillery drill and maintenance of 30 and 50 caliber machine guns soon became established. Then followed firing missions at Scorton's Neck, Poponessette and Wellsfleet. Classes in the tuning and operation of the 528 radios and in radio procedure later were followed by field problems during which the men demonstrated their ability to apply what they had learned in all phases of training. Life at Camp Edwards took on a regular routine which was not unpleasant in view of those week-end passes. Everyone was anxious not to forfeit his right to a pass as the result of any possible "gig" during the Saturday morning inspection. That produced a tense atmosphere until inspection was over. Finally, early in December, 1943, having survived the 25 mile hike and having passed the "endurance tests" administered by the AAATC, the Battalion was ready to wind up the extended "basic training" by a two weeks bivouac on Cape Cod carrying out a problem in conjunction with other units on the post.  It was unmercifully cold, and by the end of the first week, overnight stays were discontinued because of the severity of the weather.  In that period of time the Station Hospital became well filled with frost bite, "flu" and pneumonia cases. Daily problems continued until just before Christmas.
 

     It was a real treat to return to a comfortable barracks each night. Furloughs started and everyone began to speculate when his turn would come. The first months of the New Year 1944 saw little change in the normal life of the unit. As originally constituted, the sections had all M-16 halftracks. During this period we lost half of the M-16's and replaced them with M-15's. That meant learning about the 37 MM gun, a different system of sighting and maintenance and operation of the 510 radio. Classes took on a new interest and training proceeded. There were more hikes, bivouacs and test problems during the winter in which the Battalion made a creditable showing. During these problems a few incidents occurred, some of a humorous and some of a more serious nature, which served as a forewarning of the hazards under combat conditions. Out in one of the sections a security guard had taken his blankets with him into his fox hole. When March Order came, the sentry returned the 30 caliber machine gun to his halftrack and then proceeded to fill in his fox hole. Just as the vehicles were to move out to the "Rendezvous Point," the sentry missed his blankets. After a hasty search in the vicinity of the vehicle, he grabbed a shovel and dug frantically into his ex-fox hole and rescued his missing articles. Out in another area communications were being maintained all night in dug-in positions. Due to the heavy drain on the batteries, it was necessary to run the motors frequently. Carbon monoxide fumes found their way into one of the Btry Hqs Personnel Carriers sending the communications Sergeant and one radio operator to the hospital and causing the others the annoyance of severe headaches. On the same problem the Battalion Commander experienced the effects of similar poisoning. This brought about the recommendation that a flexible metal hose be attached to the exhaust pipe while the vehicles were dug-in so as to conduct the fumes away from the excavation.

     The approach of spring 1944 brought clear skies and warm days to Cape Cod. Winter snows vanished and April mud gradually turned into solid ground. Scheduled for early in May was another two weeks bivouac. There had been rumors making the rounds that Camp Edwards would cease to be under the AAATC after the first of July and that all units would move. Most personnel did not regard these rumors too seriously. On the third day of the bivouac orders came through to return to Camp and prepare for an immediate move. From somewhere along the "grapevine" the destination leaked out - Louisiana, and Camp Polk. May 16, 1944, was the date of departure. The Camp Band escorted the men on their march from the Battalion area to the troop train loading zone. loading was quickly accomplished in accordance with plans which had been carefully worked out in advance. The Battalion was moved by two trains, each made up of Pullmans and flat cars conveying the vehicles. The trip was a round about affair via Salamanca, New York, to Chicago, Illinois, where the second section of  the train passed a substantial part of the night near the stock yards, and thence south through Illinois and Arkansas by a route which avoided most large cities, to Shreveport, La. There during the early hours of Sunday, May 21, 1944, the second section of the troop train was shunted back and forth with all the fury the engineer could get out of the "iron horse". Sleep was out of the question in this mad bumping of cars. Finally one of the Pullmans split a switch and nearly tipped over. This gave the passengers one last climactic jolt, and then came peace. At last sleep was possible. After we had breakfast served beside the tracks, just out5ide the kitchen car, the engineer found a means of by-passing the twisted Pullman, and reassembled the remainder of the train. We arrived at North Camp Polk that evening after having traveled five full days.

     Camp Polk made several lasting impressions. First of all, the climate represented a great contrast to anything we had experienced before. While daytime heat was terrific, the nights generally cooled sufficiently to permit comfort. A great mosquito control project had for some time been under way and we arrived at the right time to see the results. As soon as we had been oriented, night driving problems began. That was when we became intimately acquainted with a nice heavy yellow dust. It turned everything, guns, radios, motors, clothing and hair, that color. The air became so saturated with this substance that it was impossible to see a vehicle ahead even with bright headlights on. But we were getting practice in blackout driving and these ventures brought their share of "thrills and spills." It was an eerie feeling to come upon a halftrack lying on its side in a ditch or upside down where it had gone off the road near a bridge and to catch a glimpse in passing of the medics getting practical experience in their line. In spite of these conditions the drivers improved to a point where only negligible rear end accidents occurred. We were then ready to go on problems with various units of the 9th Armored Division. On one of these problems in the Camp Claiborne maneuver area a heavy electrical storm struck. Out in  A Btry some of the men took refuge in their shelter tents. In one of them, located under a tree, were Cassidy, Papalcure, and Peterson. Papalcure had his rifle in the tent, the stock near the rear tent pole. lightning came down the tree! struck the tent at the rear pole, shattered the stock of the rifle and stunned the occupants. After receiving first aid at the field aid station, the injured trio were taken to the Station Hospital at Camp Claiborne, La. After a long period of convalescence, Cassidy and Papalcure recovered and rejoined the unit but Peterson obtained a discharge and went home. The medics stated that very few could go through a similar experience and expect to come out alive.

     Soon after our arrival at Camp Polk, a change in the T/O provided for an AAAIS (Anti-Aircraft Artillery Intelligence Service) section. Such a section was organized of volunteers within the Battalion. The men learned to operate 543 radios and received eight jeeps with trailers for use in their work. Training also included code, map reading, aircraft recognition, scouting and patrolling. This was preparation for operation of a warning net in combat giving the gun sections forewarning of the approach of enemy aircraft.

     Around the middle of July, 1944, it became necessary to evacuate our comfortable barracks, leave the cleanest mess hall of our experiences, (where cooking was done by natural gas), and move to a bivouac area outside the gate at South Camp Polk. As soon as we got settled in this rough form of existence, problems were resumed. We spent Monday through Friday in the field and weekends in the bivouac area. That meant ample practice in pitching shelter tents and in living out of a barracks bag. It was here that the steel helmet proved its worth as a wash basin and laundry tub. Cold water open air showers were in constant use, furnishing an escape from the intense heat. For our shelter tents we built wooden foundations which gave increased size and comfort to these accommodations. The bivouac area was on a slope and deep drains around the tents effectively carried off the flood which poured down at each rain. In Louisiana it rains with a vengeance.

     Out on the problems during the week, water had to be hauled from a considerable distance. As the result of difficulties somewhere along the line, the water supply failed from time to time. While things were not looking so good because of this shortage, local farmers came to the rescue by driving trucks loaded with watermelons into the area. Eating watermelons became a favorite pastime; that is, until orders came down denying this treat during a problem.

     One of the problems became non-tactical on a Friday afternoon. Some of the fellows took advantage of this to go out in quest of a swimming hole. In their ramble through the woods they came upon a sow with her litter. One of the fellows caught a baby pig which let out a squeal just before a restraining hand stifled further cries. The mother could not tell which man had her baby. With grunts of rage and a slashing of teeth, she made a lunge for the nearest man. He took off with the sow snapping at his heels. As he ran he looked back at his pursuer instead of observing where he was going. He ran into one tree, fell down, bounced back onto his feet and collided with still another tree before the baby pig was released and deterred the frantic mother from further pursuit. The witnesses were still laughing when they returned to their positions.

     In mid-August we returned from the bivouac area to North Camp Polk and the same area. we had previously occupied. Rumors made the rounds that another move was coming up, this time with either Fort Bliss, Texas or Camp Stewart, Georgia as the destination. Packing operations got under way. On September 1, 1944, the battalion departed by train and traveled in coaches to the second of the rumored destinations. It was a rough trip in contrast to the luxury of Pullmans which we had enjoyed on our previous move. We arrived outside of Hinesville, Georgia about mid-night September 3rd. Here the engine was disconnected from the rest of the train and left us. Word finally came that a U.S. engine from the camp would come out and pull us inside the enclosure. After we waited for an hour and a half and watched several trains pass us like greased lightning, the Army train arrived. When the train came to a halt inside the camp we disembarked and loaded into trucks. Our destination was a bivouac area 15 miles away. It was then 0230, September 4th. Since there were no tents or other enclosures available, we placed our blankets on the ground and, being exhausted, slept.

P.O.M.

     At 0730 September 4th we were awakened by the hated sound of the first Sergeant's shrill whistle announcing breakfast. After breakfast we were informed that this area, designated as "K" Range, was to be our new home and that each Battery would erect squad tents to house the men. We worked in the intense sultry heat all day long completing the job about sundown. It seemed like the hardest day's work we had ever done. That night a very tired but appreciative lot of men slept on cots and mattresses for the first time in several days. "K" Range was a swampy area. When it rained, a frequent occurrence, the water gathered on the floor of the tents and everything became musty. During chow one evening a cloudburst struck. One of the fellows thought of his barracks bags on the floor of his tent some distance away and of the flood which would soon be sweeping through. Not desiring to get wet, he removed his clothes, piled them on top of a couple of water cans under the mess tent and raced in the nude through mud and water to rescue his belongings and place them on top of his cot. Upon his return to the mess tent he was greeted with howls of laughter.

     Fortunately, after we had spent about two weeks in this environment, quarters became available in the V-3 area of the camp and we moved without regret. Now it became apparent that we were being groomed for an overseas assignment. To complete the final training it was necessary to have a physical examination and go over the debarkation tower. Packing and crating began while the gun sections got in some day and night firing on the ranges. Inspections, processing of records and reports kept everyone busy, especially the Personnel section at Battalion Headquarters where extra clerks had to be called in to handle the flood of data required by the AAATC. The last night at Camp Stewart was one of the coldest and most miserable we had experienced. Barracks were empty except for the equipment the men had to carry. Fires were not permitted. It was a matter of waiting out the long hours until transportation was available to the loading area, where there was more waiting in the cold for the train to be made up. In the early hours of the last day of November, 1944, we departed for a POE. On December 1st we arrived at Camp Kilmer, N. J. That afternoon we hiked over for a quick physical examination. The next day there were final clothing checks followed by typhus shots at the dispensary. On Sunday the program included another debarkation tower run and a lecture on life boats and rafts. Sunday night, 12 hour passes began and there was a mad scramble for them until they ended at 0800 on 13 December 1944. In the meantime there had been a second typhus shot, an orientation film on troopships and practice loading coaches "by the numbers" for the ride to the port. The evening of December 15, 1944, was the appointed time. It was a thoughtful group of fellows which traveled by train to the port. At the end of the line, the men, loaded with full equipment including horseshoe roll and duffle bag, with heavy tread filed out of those coaches and along the quai to the ferry, where they crowded into the available space and waited.
 

FAREWELL TO AMERICA

by C.L. Dixon
 

     The ferrymotors groaned as she churned her way into the cold waters of the bay, and through the rampway we saw the lights of the metropolis grow dimmer and dimmer.

     Yes, "This was it". Tonight we would sail. Somewhere out there a ship waited to carry us to a foreign shore to be used in the winning of a great war.

     Glancing at my watch in the darkness, I saw that it was half-past two. We huddled as close together as possible for warmth, but those full-field packs with blanket-rolls wouldn't permit much. All we could do was stand and wait, as the lights of this city in New Jersey became more and more distant.

     Thoughts raced back home. In my imagination, I could picture my family fast asleep. Deep down I felt that terrible tightness which only a soldier departing for foreign soil ever experiences. I was thinking of the long months it would be before I would see them again, maybe never.

     Forty minutes passed and then we heard the motors cough and cut out. I knew that we were pulling up alongside, but the blackness of the night prohibited all hopes of seeing the ship. The ferry lurched and stopped and the ramp was lowered. A space of moments found us hurrying up steps and across the gangplank.

     On the open deck we were held up, while the American Red Cross served us coffee and doughnuts and wished us Godspeed and the best of luck on our voyage. At 0400 hours, we were assigned to quarters and went below.

     My quarters were on the Main Deck at Staircase 5. This was my first time to be aboard a transport. I kept wondering at all the various gadgets here and there on the interior of my quarters. Before long, I had shed my wearisome pack and piled into my hammock. Sleep descended on me as something from heaven.

     At 0900 hours, we were awakened by the ship's bells. Reluctantly, I got out of my hammock and dressed. Someone yelled from above that we'd have to hurry up to the promenade deck on the port side if we wanted a last glimpse of the Statue of Liberty. Pulling on my field jacket, I hurried up the companionway and out on deck. A dense fog covered the sea, but dimly through it I could see the outline of the Statue.

     Before long, it started to rain, and the fog became more and more dense until, eventually, it was impossible to see more than a few feet from the ship's side. I was listening to the swishing of the waves against the ship when the claxon sounded. That meant for all troops to assemble, so I returned to my quarters.

     In various places about the ship large loud-speaker systems were situated. I gathered with my Battery around the one on the Main Deck. In the space of a few moments, the Ship's Commandant spoke to us over the network of speakers. I'll never forget his words, the gist of which went something like this:
 

     "We are glad to have you with us for this voyage. You are aboard one of the largest transports in the world, The Queen Elizabeth, in   His Majesty's Service. Aboard this British vessel there are certain rules and regulations which will govern your behavior during the voyage. You will have daily muster for one hour. During that time all hands will be on the open deck.

     "This ship is double loaded. The promenade deck will be used at night for sleeping quarters for various troops. Strict blackout will be observed at and during the hours of darkness. Dawn comes late at sea, so no hands will be on the open deck before 0900 hours in the morning. Unnecessary risks and violations of these orders will not be tolerated, for enemy subs still prowl the sea-lanes.

     "Chow will be served in the dining hall on Deck C. A certain amount of time is allotted to various units for hours of mess. Due to the great number of troops aboard, there will be only two meals per day during the voyage.
 

     "Any further instructions will be announced to you."

     Well, that was that. I kept saying it over and over in my mind, -these regulations -, lest I forget. In short order the Supply Sergeant arrived and issued us each a life-preserver and a small rescue light, to be used if we were to abandon ship and be adrift at sea. Then my Captain arrived and told us the rules governing the cleanliness of our quarters. And after that, our time was to be our own. Like all of my comrades, my curiosity regarding the ship was overwhelming me, so as soon as I made my bunk and swept the aisle, I went for a stroll to better acquaint myself with the interior of the ship.  To anyone who was ever aboard a large transport this is bound to be boresome. But to me, it was quite an adventure.

     My first stop was on the promenade deck on the port side. I probably would have gone farther, but a big crap game was in full swing. The longer I listened the luckier I felt. I didn't have my two dollars and eighty cents when I left for the Main Deck some twenty odd minutes later .

     Up here a salty mist was spraying the deck. We were out in the sea-lanes now, and the wind was against us. The big ship would sway until I swore she was going to swamp in the waves. Funny how some guys get scared when this happens. You can notice them fumbling nervously with their life-belts, ready to inflate them at a split second's notice. They just don't seem to have complete control of their nerves.  An M.P. standing nearby told me I should use a different shade of powder after I shaved. He said the shade I used made me look too much like the ghost of Shakespeare. I didn't quite get it. I was too busy swallowing that something which kept bouncing up in my throat to get anything much. Some Medics call it a man's stomach, but I can think of another part of the body which is a more
appropriate word for it.

     I was standing there on the open deck, taking in the smell of the sea and watching the sea-gulls when the call for chow sounded. I hurried down for my mess-kit and got in line. As in all Army chow lines I had to struggle to hold my place, for a thousand odd hungry dog-faces is about the most boisterous crowd anyone ever encountered.
 

     After so many minutes, we wound our way down what seemed like a thousand crooks and turns of stairs, showed our mess cards to the K.P. on door duty, and went to our seats. The odor of boiling coffee, and that inviting scent that came wafting up from the kitchen, seemed to add even more desire to my already groaning appetite.

     While waiting for the table waiters to serve the food, I observed the enormous dining hall. It was a magnificent affair. During pre-war days it had been intended for a lobby and "get together" place for night-clubbers. The large bar with woodwork of carvings and applewood was still intact. The ceiling of bronze plating and the large chandeliers were still there, throwing a halo of purple-blue illumination. For tables there were hastily constructed benches of wood, similar to the ones found in any camp mess hall. These were cleated to the deck floor to prevent them from moving when the ship swayed or lurched.

     Chow was okay; that is, if you like spam and chips. We had English cooks and they did a darn good job feeding such a large number, but that sugarless coffee was something that made my stomach curse all the British Isles and the Royal Navy.

     It was very difficult to eat, because the ship was swaying so. Every time she would lurch, we'd go chasing our mess-kit down toward the other end of the table. Some would be too slow and, as a result, mess-kit, food, and all would wind up in the aisleway between the tables. I simply detest people who can't hold on to their mess-kit at a time like that. One of the K.P.'s told me I'd either clean up the food I'd spilled or else he'd call the mess officer. Some guys can be so-o-o-o-o nasty. That night my C.O. called all the non-coms together and told us we were to pull submarine watch on the Bridge during the voyage. He was very careful to explain that we had no escort and that it was entirely up to us and the detecting apparatus on the ship to spot any of those "Wolves of the Sea" should they be near us. We were to stand watch for three hours each day. Just as my luck would have it, I was to be one of the first relief. One thing I've always said is, "It's always an honor to be on guard". My platoon Sergeant finally urged me up on the Bridge, even if he did have to threaten Courts-Martial.

     Boy! Was it cold up there! The wind reminded me of winter-time on Cape Cod. In case you were never in Army training and maneuvers on Cape Cod in winter-time let me tell you a few things about it. It gets so cold that an officer must put de-icers on his tongue to keep the "cuss" words from freezing in his mouth, and the wind blows like a 1st Sergeant who spent two years in Panama. That's the way it was on the Bridge. Within ten minutes I found myself dreaming of such places as Cape Town, South Africa; Cairo, Egypt; and the like. It didn't stop my teeth from making that sound that sounds so much like an electric sewing machine, but it helped a lot deep down inside.
 

     The Captain on the Bridge left the wheel long enough to show me where my area of watch extended. It was a 30 degree angle of the sea from the port wing of the Bridge. It was so dark up there that I kept thinking how wonderful it would be to have Superman along with his Xray vision.

     The night was uneventful. My tour of watch ended without my seeing a thing except visions of sizzling steaks smothered in onions. I went to bed cold, tired, sleepy and hungry.

     Time passes fast aboard the Elizabeth. During the remaining days of our voyage I began to like it more. On the 3rd day we discovered that something better than 1000 Army Nurses were aboard. We'd spend hours studying up excuses for going up on the Sun Deck. That was where they always went to display their likeness to Betty Grable. The Sun Deck was, of course, "OFF LIMITS" to all enlisted men. For some reason or other the Army figures an E.M. isn't capable of conducting himself properly in the presence of a lady. We were forever getting lost on the ship and always we would go to the Sun Deck for information as to where we were. Those salt water beauties in G.I. playsuits were just like an information booth to us; that is, until they placed an armada of M.P.'s at all entrances to the Sun Deck.  But we found out where they slept and, to our surprise, it was on the same deck where we were quartered. That didn't help much. The ship's Rules stated that "all women passengers must be in bed by 2100 hours." We were having a jolly time, until some wise guy pasted tape on all the key holes.

     The fourth night out the pilot followed more of a zig-zag course than usual. Each zig rolled the ship to one side, and each zag rolled it to the other. The men of Hqs and A Btry's who were quartered in the "Cocktail Lounge," off the Promenade Deck, felt the full effect of the course. When the ship zigged, they zagged, and when the ship zagged, they zigged. About 0200 hours there was a more violent zig than usual as the liner rolled far over to the starboard. When it started back toward even keel, there was a resounding crash. The center pole in the lounge, which supported the five decker bunks, collapsed, causing forty bunks, men and equipment to be dumped in a heap on the floor. Someone yelled, "We've been torpedoed!" At this point the M.P.'s rushed in and quieted the rising panic before it got of hand. Then there was fumbling for the lights and the task of untangling the mass. By some miracle only two men received minor cuts.

     Otherwise our voyage was quite uneventful. Aside from the constant vigilance of the gun crews and men on watch, one would think this was merely a pleasure cruise. Most of the time we were on our own. I strolled all over the ship from stem to stern. One day on the bridge a Naval Officer asked me if I would like to steer the Elizabeth. I pinched myself to see if I wasn't dreaming. Sure enough, I was permitted to man the wheel for three minutes.

     At 0300 hours on our fifth night at sea I was standing watch on the Bridge when one of my companions on the opposite wing of the Bridge spotted a black blur moving out in the darkness. Everyone was put on "Emergency Alert" and notified to stand by. As we were still under the security of radio silence, it was impossible to radio and find out if it was a friendly craft. We knew we were nearing friendly waters and that by 0500 hours we were to pick up a destroyer escort that was coming from the Coast of Britain to meet us and take us through the net of subs that the Enemy had placed about the Isles to prevent food, supplies and men from getting to England. This was too early for the escort, I kept telling myself, and naturally my thoughts were that it was a sub that had been stalking us and had surfaced. To make matters worse, a deep fog was beginning to rise on the sea. I began trying to remember those swimming strokes that so many people had given up all hopes of ever teaching me. For twenty minutes we sweated it out. Then, before I knew what was happening, large flood-light beams pierced the blackness. With their aid I was able to see it was a British Destroyer. The sigh of relief I left out sounded like a Brooklyn "Bobby Soxer" when Frankie sings.

     Now that we had our escort, we put on full speed and before we knew it we were passing the Isle of Man. Then we knew that the coast of England wasn't far away.

     At 0945 hours we dropped anchor in the "Firth of Forth," off the South-West coast of Scotland. The Queen Elizabeth drew so much water that we could not get too close to shore; therefore, we had to be transported to shore by Ferry. While we were waiting to disembark, an officer of the British Navy spoke to us. I can't remember all of his speech, but I remember he said that we were for a short time the guests of England. He also said that we would find it rather hard to adjust ourselves to the climate of the Islands. The old saga of England was, "When you can see the hills, it's going to rain. When you can't see the hills! it's raining." Just how true this proved to be will be found by talking to any G.I. who spent time in England. It rained so much and so often that I found myself noticing every Englishman I met, just to see if he had webbed feet.
 

     With all our gear, we alighted from the Elizabeth onto a Ferry for shore. Before very long we found ourselves on dry ground once more for the first time in six days. It was rather hard to stand at first. My body was acting as if it had just started to recuperate from a thirty day drunk. We landed at Greenock, Scotland, but didn't stay there long. A couple of hours later found us on a train headed for southern England.

THE BRITISH ISLES

by C.L. Dixon

     The first thing I noticed about Scotland was the cleanliness of the cities and countryside. The journey to our destination took us through the cities of Glasgow, Oxford, Carlisle, London, Bath and a host of other smaller cities which I have forgotten. It was in England that we had our first experience, known to G. I.'s the world over, of hearing the small kids begging for chewing gum, candy and chocolate. It didn't take long to find out that these people had been deprived of such delicacies for nearly six years. Darkness found us somewhere in middle England because English trains usually average about 15 miles per hour. We had to give up all hopes of seeing the sights now due to blackout regulations, so we settled for a cold K-Ration and sank into slumber that comes from sheer fatigue.

     On the morning of December 23rd, we were awakened and informed that we had arrived at our destination. Naturally I looked out the window to get a glimpse of the surroundings. A dreary mist was falling and the country looked anything but inviting. Instead of seeing an Army Camp as I had expected, all I saw were a few scattered houses along the rails and a dirt road leading into the hills. We were told to strap on our gear and get going. With a silent groan and a curse for all the [Germans] who started this war, I again shouldered that seemingly 1000 pound duffle bag, got my rifle, and dismounted. This was Hytesbury, England. The frame of mind I was in was such that I felt sure no more miserable hole was ever created. We continued by truck the four mires to Camp Sutton Veny. Upon arrival there I knew immediately that I wasn't going to like England any too well. The minute we alighted from the truck we began to live in mud. Just mud, and more mud !
 

     The buildings where we were quartered were about the same as the modern ice box. For heat there were tiny stoves which looked as though they had come out of the 14th century. It was always cold in the buildings regardless of how red hot the stoves might be. The beds we slept on had springs made of common fence wire wound together. There were no mattresses - not even straw with which to make one. After sleeping one night under these conditions, we could easily play checkers the next morning by using one of our backs for a checker board.

     Our second day in England was Sunday. I went to church with a bunch of the boys. For a chapel we had a hut that had been a Rec. Hall for the 9th Armored Division before they left for the Continent. It was a miserable old hut of stone. We had no benches so we sat on pieces of board or anything handy. Cobwebs swayed in the cold, damp atmosphere of the old building as we sang from memory a few hymns. The Chaplain, a Southern Missionary Baptist, brought the message, "The Birth of Christ." At the conclusion of the service we sang "Just as I Am." It seemed sort of strange, the entire service that morning. It was so entirely different from any I had ever attended.

     That night was Christmas Eve. As night drew her curtains, all was still except for the drone of Allied planes winging their way across the Channel toward Germany. I would have hung up my stocking that night but was rather leery of doing so for fear that I might catch a flying bomb in it.

     On Christmas Day there was a fog so dense that it hid even the nearest hills. Also, we began to notice what an odd climate this country had. At 0900 hours there was a light frost. By 1500 hours the frost was as deep as a light fall of snow. We had turkey for dinner, but some of the guys swore it was sea gull, or else the gobblers flew all the way from the states. Such tough turkey we had never eaten before. That night we weren't allowed out of camp but for some reason or other the whole camp was deserted. At a certain "pub" in Warminster the 1st Sgt. said he could hold a Battery formation. Once we began to get out of camp we learned a lot about English customs, etc. First we found that there were 12 G.I.s. to every girl in the towns and a man had to be a relative of Clark Gable to find a date for himself. The girls were rather beautiful, in a reserved sort of way. None of them wore hose, Nylons went with the Blitz of  '39, and lipstick was hardly ever seen. Britain had been, and was still being, hit hard. It was hard enough to get men, supplies, guns, tanks, and all that goes with a fighting army, without using ships for such trivial matters as those.

     The British people had endured the strain of war so long that they didn't seem to notice it anymore. One day I was sitting beside an elderly lady on the train leaving London when a V-2 bomb hit about a quarter of a mile away. I expected to see her faint. Instead, she merely glanced up from her evening paper and remarked casually, "I hope some day to spit in the face of the [German] who launched that bomb". From that day on, I admired the courage of the people of Britain.

     Within a few weeks I was transferred to Southampton on detached service. I found the people there to be very nice and helping. I spent a lot of time at the American Red Cross on High Street. It was there that I met some typical British people. The place was operated by English girls who had volunteered their services. I spent several hours at the home of the senior hostess there. She was so very nice. She told me a lot about the strain Britain had been under and of the terrific beating her people had taken from the Luftwaffe. By merely taking a glance down High Street one could see the truth of her words. Hardly a single building was left standing. What used to be one of the most beautiful sea-port cities in the world was now only a bombed out shambles. While I was at Southampton, many other members of this Battalion were on detached service at Pangborn, Tidworth, Salisbury and Weymouth, among other places. The duties involved a wide range of activities from driving trucks to the common garden variety of K.P.! Most of the periods of detached service were for six weeks and proved to be a delightful change from Camp Sutton Veny.

     During this period of our absence, driving details were traveling allover England to obtain our vehicles and supplies which landed at widely separated points. As soon as the jeeps, trucks and halftracks arrived in camp, the regular maintenance periods were resumed on guns and vehicles.

     The "573rd AAA Bn Band" went into action at Sutton Veny and in a short period of time had playing engagements every night of the week. These engagements took the musicians on an extended tour of England and added pounds where they were needed most.

     Diversions at Sutton Veny included movies at the Rec. Hall two nights a week and an occasional dance. The Red Cross Club at Warminster, about 3 miles away, was well patronized. The warm shower room with its abundance of hot water was especially popular. On Friday afternoon of each week the Red Cross Club mobile visited Camp Sutton Veny and set up shop near the mess hall. The fellows came running from all directions with canteen cups in hand for coffee and doughnuts. These weekly visits became anticipated events.

     About this time Major C. H. Hewson, Royal Artillery, took up quarters with us as a sort of Liaison Officer. Under his direction the first three "graders" took up training of Occupation of Position. Then the men went out on problems to apply what they had learned. The English Major inspected the positions and made constructive criticism.

     The continued waiting period was filled with other schools. One was an Engineering Bridge School where the men observed the construction of a Bailey Bridge. Another school was on Mines and Booby traps. It was here that one of our officers had an experience worth mentioning. Because the instructor had only a few specimens of various types of booby traps and their firing devices, he requested the members of the class to please refrain from misappropriating them. At the first opportunity one of the book type firing devices found its way into this officer's pocket. The safety pin was not firmly in place. It dropped out and permitted the primer to go off. The noise and cloud of smoke rising out of his pocket caused one-red-face and an amused class.

     About the middle of February, 1945, the men on detached service returned to Sutton Veny in time to take part in a firing mission in the mud at Kimeridge. Each Battery had a separate schedule and worked these missions in conjunction with a 40 mm outfit whose guns we towed out to the range. The original plan was for each Battery to put in one day of firing. Because of the fog or the presence of too many ships, the firing continued over a period of nearly two weeks. While B Battery was awaiting the opportunity to fire, two Spitfires returning from Germany became lost in the fog and crashed against the headlands in the vicinity of the range. One pilot was killed outright. The other was badly mangled. Our medics were on the spot in short order and Capt. Craig did all that was possible in the way of first aid before sending the victim to the hospital.

     During one of the periods of firing the order came through for 37 mm guns only to fire on the next course because of boats in the bay within range of the 50's. There was some misunderstanding on the part of the other unit with us and when the target came into view, the gunners on the M-51 (multiple 50 Cal.) mounts cut loose while the range officer frantically called out "Cease Fire".  The water all around the boats was splattered with lead. There was a destroyer among the boats and the men took up the cry that we were trying to sink it!!

     Shortly after we returned to Sutton Veny, movement orders came through. Guns and equipment were placed in first class condition. On March 3rd we traveled in convoy to the marshalling area where we had our fill of  C rations and spent one night. The next morning we proceeded to Portland Harbor. The date was Sunday, March 4th, 1945. It was the beginning of a beautiful day as we boarded the LST's for France. Sunlight lifted the fog and the channel was nothing but long miles of glittering blue. As we floated out of the harbor and into the open channel, I looked back at the Island. It seemed very quiet and serene. As the landscape grew more and more distant, I couldn't help but wonder to myself just how long it might be before I would be seeing England again.

ON TO GERMANY

     The ride across the English Channel was just an overnight trip. Some of us got to talking with the sailors and listened to their stories of previous crossings. By this time the submarine situation was quite well in hand and air attacks had become few and far between. The only remaining menace was the German "E" boat which had used hit and run tactics effectively against previous convoys. For us the crossing was just a routine affair. The next morning some of the sailors said it was the smoothest crossing they had made. The treat for us on this trip was two Navy meals with real home baked white bread, the first we had seen since we left home. After breakfast we landed at Le Havre, France, and in a matter of minutes, it seemed, the vehicles had pulled out of the LST's. and we were on the way to a convoy rendezvous point a short distance from the shore. Le Havre gave us our first view of a completely devastated city. The sight of the piles of rubble had a sobering effect as we slowly moved along the narrow ways which had been opened through the debris. The ghastly demolished city was deserted except for a few old people and small children. Seeing them in filthy rags, digging in the ruins, was a most pathetic picture. No words or photographs are adequate to portray the impact of the actual view of the results of war. Our route took us along the northerly bank of the Seine River and through several small towns to Camp Twenty Grand, a staging area. We moved into squad tents and slept on cots. Small wood burning stoves furnished heat. During the sojourn from March 5th to 8th we obtained last minute supplies including a sleeping bag to replace one blanket. Then we learned that we were destined to join the Ninth Army. Early on the 8th we left Camp Twenty Grand and traveled across northern France, bivouacking for the night outside Cambrai. The next day we moved into Belgium and stopped at Vise. We remained in this city for two nights awaiting orders. During that time the townspeople gave us the greatest reception that we had received anywhere on our travels. They invited the men to visit their homes, shared their wine, and even moved tables and chairs out to the sidewalks opposite the square where the mess trucks were located. They knew where we were going and went out of their way to make these final hours as pleasant as possible. Sunday, March 11, 1945, the Battalion set out from Vise to take up battle stations over a wide area. C Btry was divided, the first platoon leaving for Roermond, Holland and the second platoon for Orsbeck and Wassenburg, Germany. B Btry departed for Rheydt to give AA protection to Ninth Army supply installations. Some time after daybreak the convoy entered Germany and passed through Aachen. As they moved along, the men gazed at the devastation which had resulted from the bitter fighting here. This was the first demolished German city which most of us had seen. After having observed the results of German bombs in England  and France, it was exhilarating to see a German city which had felt a just retaliation for these Nazi wrongs. We were in enemy territory and every man stood by his guns, ready for action. We passed through one devastated area after another. Before noon the Battalion reached it's immediate destination. Hdqs Btry was located at Beeck. A Btry pulled into position at Wegberg. D Btry arrived at Julich. On March 17th B Btry moved to Beeck to join A Btry in giving air and ground protection to the vast gasoline dump in this area. The AAAIS Section set up their warning net and the Communications Sections of the various Batteries tuned their 593 receivers to frequency and listened to reports of the movement of friendly, enemy and unknown planes in the vicinity. C Btry moved to Linnich on March 17th to protect the highly important bridge on the Main Supply Route over the Roer River. They probed their way into positions. All went well until Floyd Spaugh, driving the Captain's Jeep, undertook to go to one of the positions over a well defined road made by the vehicles when they moved in. The right front wheel set off a mine which completely wrecked the vehicle. Fortunately there were no passengers. Spaugh sustained injuries and was evacuated by air to England. He did not return to the unit. The blast blew the wheel and hood about fifty yards and left the jeep as it would be expected to appear after hitting a tree with the right front end at sixty miles per hour. The hole dug by the blast was large enough to bury a horse.

     During these early days in Germany the fellows took their guard duty seriously. There were stories of Germans infiltrating the lines and using silent methods of doing away with sentries and even entire gun sections. To combat snipers and possible lone wolf knife attacks, two men were together at all  times, on post and off. Communications by radio were maintained on a twenty-four hour basis and everyone was on his toes to avert a surprise attack by air or ground forces. Small arms and some machine gun fire in the vicinity added to the tenseness, but all of this fire could not be attributed to the enemy.

     The days and nights passed. The men lived in varying circumstances depending on their location. Those sections located near houses took them over for billeting and mess halls. Those in fields lived in dugouts and prepared their own meals with "Twenty man" Cooking units. It was a rough existence, but we knew we were not alone. A steady stream of trucks passed along the Main Supply Route at all hours carrying men and supplies to the front. At the same time the heavy drone of bombers could be heard overhead bringing the war home to the industrial areas of Germany and Berlin. It was a grand feeling to watch the formations passing overhead, shimmering in the sunlight. We counted them as they went toward the front and again on their return. We watched stragglers with one or two motors knocked out limping slowly back toward England.
 

     Soon orders came through of a new mission. The Battalion was to join the 5th Armored Division on the West bank of the Rhine to relieve the 387th AAA AW Bn which had been designated for a special mission with an airborne unit. In the early hours of March 25th we departed to take up the new assignment. Hdqs Btry went to Hoterheide, A Btry to Meerbusch with the 71 FA Bn, B Btry went eight miles North of Strump with the 47th FA Bn, C Btry to lank Latum with the 95th FA Bn, and D Btry to Uckrath and then to Neuss with the 2nd FA Bn.

     When A Btry arrived just before noon, they found the 71st FA busily engaged in swapping shells with the Germans. One of the 387th men said that an 88 had gone through a cellar window of the mess hall and exploded in a coal pile the night before. Generally the German shells were high and were exploding harmlessly in the woods in back of the gun positions. As the 387th pulled out we rolled into their same positions. A Btry Hdqs had formerly been the home of a doctor and was elaborately furnished, including a library, grand piano and beautiful clocks. Shells landing nearby caused the house to shake. After dark it was possible to see the flash of the German guns across the Rhine at Düsseldorf. Within a few seconds the shells whistled overhead and landed with a rumbling explosion. This shell fire in both directions was similar to a never ending electrical storm of great violence. It was only a question of where the 88 style lightning would strike next. The first night in this environment was not exactly restful. It became the practice at night to move the M-15's and M-16's out of positions to a safe place near the house in which the section was billeted. Some of the gun crews had narrow escapes when shells landed nearby, peppering their vehicles with shrapnel and tearing holes in the buildings in which they had their sleeping quarters. It was a give and take proposition., with us on the taking end.

     Beginning the night of March 26th, the Battalion was given special missions with Diablo Red, a Cavalry Reconnaissance outfit. Each night efforts were made to send patrols in small boats across the Rhine. Two halftracks were designated to give AA protection against ME 109's which made nightly strafing raids down the river. The other two vehicles were to furnish diversionary fire against ground forces on the opposite bank or a protective cover for the patrol itself. A daylight reconnaissance had to be made to select the location of positions in an area which by daylight was under full observation of the enemy. The least evidence of activity on our side of the Rhine was greeted by mortar fire. .One reconnaissance party under direction of Major Walker just got their jeep down in back of a hill in time to escape being hit. D Btry drew these special missions the nights of March 26th and 27th. The second night two ME-109's were flying low and strafing near Nierst. The vehicles giving AA protection opened fire. The motor of one of the planes stopped and it glided down on the enemy side of the Rhine. Under the circumstances it was impossible to tell whether the plane actually had been forced down by hits. The second plane was driven off and did not return. After firing, the vehicles immediately pulled out and moved to an alternate position. This was a wise precaution because the Germans immediately blanketed the firing position with mortars. That night the vehicles firing on ground targets got excellent results. They silenced a machine gun, destroyed a house by fire and silenced small arms fire. On this mission James Dennison received a shoulder shrapnel wound from an exploding mortar shell. Eric E. Smith, the section leader, administered first aid and at the same time continued to direct the fire which obtained such excellent results. As a result of his leadership and coolness under fire during this successful mission, Sgt. Smith received a "Battlefield Commission" of 2nd Lieutenant. His is the distinction of receiving the only such commission awarded in the Battalion. Dennison received a Purple Heart as also did Spaugh, the driver of the C Btry jeep which hit the mine. B Btry, taking eight M-16's, had this same mission on the night of March 28th. The men who participated know full well what it means to have shrapnel from mortar shells flying around them. Fortunately there were no further casualties.
 

     The next day word came through that the 387th had returned to resume the mission. They had been unable to contact the airborne unit. So rapid had become the flow of men and equipment across the Rhine, the airborne unit could not wait at the rendezvous point. Arrangements for the 387th to take over their old job were completed by noon. At mid-afternoon we received "March Order" and formed our convoy lines. We moved out of this area and toward the rear, away from the thunder of the 105's and the whistle of the 88's to peace and quiet while awaiting a new assignment. In this interim Hdqs, A and B Batteries set up at Wegberg and the sections moved into their old positions around the gasoline dump. C and D Batteries went to Waldniel where they had a similar mission. Gasoline was extremely vital to the fast rolling 9th Army. The deeper the penetration into Germany the more urgent became the necessity of preventing the destruction of our supplies by air attacks or sabotage by ground forces.
 

     It was a thankful congregation which assembled in the old machine shop at Wegberg to listen to Chaplain Bryan's Easter Service. The brief nerve shattering experiences in the Rhineland had stimulated serious thinking and brought out an unusually large number of men on that rainy Sunday morning. After midnight on April 2nd, C and D Batteries moved from Waldniel to Wesel where they crossed the Rhine and continued on to Holsterhausen. There they set up ground and air security around a new gasoline depot. Early, the morning of April 4th, Hdqs, A and B Batteries departed from Wegberg to join the 9th Army Headquarters at Haltern. The convoy also crossed the Rhine at Wesel via pontoon bridge and continued on through muck and mud for some distance before again reaching solid road. Hdqs Btry went to Deuten while A and B Batteries continued to Haltern to furnish AA protection to 9th Army Headquarters. The war roared on toward its climax with the Allied Armies progressing rapidly. Day after day truck loads of prisoners passed by our positions in a constant stream
toward the PW cages in the rear .
 

     On April 12th Conquer Forward moved to Gutersloh taking the same three Batteries along with it to continue the mission. Hdqs Btry took over a textile factory for its CP. The office was beautifully construct with glassed-in soundproof compartments. It resembled a bank more than it did an industrial office. A warehouse attached to the main building was well stocked with bathrobes, beach and bath towels, all of Turkish style. Units for miles around sent "Moonlight Requisitioning Parties" for supplies. Suffice it to say that the wealth of this German factory was generously shared. Also it was at Gutersloh that the "Texas Sharpshooter" in A Btry brought down two deer with one shot. A Major from another unit was hunting in this same area. When he observed this feat he said, "That's all, brother. I quit," and he walked away. Regular meat rations at the Btry were slim at this time. Those delicious venison steaks and cutlets were a treat.

     April 21st, Conquer Forward moved to Braunschweig and made its Headquarters in the building formerly occupied by Hermann Goering and his staff in the days of the Luftwaffe. The move to Braunschweig brought C and D Batteries back into joint action with the rest of the Battalion. This time B Battery became split up. The first Platoon Hqs, and the first and second sections remained at Gutersloh as security guards at the "Kaserne" where 9th Army had made their Headquarters. The third and fourth sections of the first platoon went to Munster to act as security guards at Conquer Rear. It was at Munster that one explosion took place which could not be attributed to an act of sabotage or a German 88. At the billets "Art" was using gasoline to wash a pair of OD's in the latrine.  "Paul" came in, took a seat and absent mindedly lighted a cigarette. After' the explosion "Art and Paul" found themselves in the adjoining room being treated for minor burns. Curiosity seekers examined the two thick walls which had been blown out by the blast, and marveled. "Art" salvaged one
pair of OD's.

     When the battalion arrived at Braunschweig, reports were coming in to the effect that several German Tiger tanks had broken through the front lines and were approaching Braunschweig along the Autobahn super highway. The Germans had only recently evacuated this city which, like all the others through which we had passed, had suffered extensive bomb damage. We were alerted for these tanks but they never reached our positions.
 

     The civilians whom we saw as we passed from city to city appeared to be dazed. Unbelief and dismay showed on their faces. According to their information, Germany was winning and would win the war. If so, what were we doing here? The bombing and then our presence appeared to be too much of a shock. The Nazis had sold the people on the idea that if the Americans should enter Germany, they would kill all the men and would ravish all the women. That this did not happen must have left the people wondering what they could believe.
 

     1st Sgt. Radomsky of B Btry decided to make one of the daily mail runs between Gutersloh and Braunschweig. On the detour between Hannover and Minden the driver, Smillie, had to bring the jeep to a halt when his horn failed to move two Frauleins who were riding their bicycles down the middle of the narrow road. Finally Radomsky stood up in the jeep and bellowed as only a 1st Sgt. can, "Come on, get your big (censored) off the road." Smillie and Radomsky almost collapsed when one of the Frauleins turned and remarked in perfect English, "Why Sergeant, such language to use on ladies." She was an English teacher .

     At this time the highways were jammed with Displaced Persons, some in conveyances drawn either by tractor, horses or oxen. Others rode bicycles towing small trailers loaded with the few possessions they could salvage. Still others traveled on foot pushing overloaded carts, wheelbarrows and even baby carriages. These persons were of all nationalities and of all ages. They had been shipped into Germany to serve as slave labor for the "Super Race" (?). These people, clothed in soiled rags, their faces drawn and expressionless, plodded wearily along. At night they slept out of doors. For food they had to live off the land like scavengers, until organizations could be set up to administer aid and relief. Theirs was not an enviable lot. Some of the fellows who could speak different languages learned first hand the indescribable atrocities to which these people had been subjected.

     One night on which the moon alternately shone and hid behind the clouds, soon after our arrival at Braunschweig, Chester Dumala of A Btry heard the sound of someone walking through the field toward the position where he was on guard. When the intruder was about 25 yards away, the moon came out and Dumala was able to see him. Upon being challenged the intruder stated that he was a sentry. When requested to give the password, he turned and started walking away, but after a few steps broke into a run. Shots rang out in the night. At a distance of 100 yards the German soldier fell for the last time. As a result of this incident Dumala received letters of commendation from his superior officers.

     On the evening of May 4th at Munster a radio news flash of the surrender of the Germans in the North was interpreted to mean that the war in Europe had ended. The story spread like wild fire and in a very few minutes a hilarious crowd of celebrators were firing every available arm out the windows. The sound of pistols, rifles, grease guns, carbines, 30 Caliber and even 50 Caliber machine guns going off all together furnished all the sound effects of the original assault on the city. The sky was filled with tracers. Officers returning from rotation furlough to the States said they had survived the landings in North Africa as well as in Sicily and would hate to be killed by a celebrator's bullet. It took the Officer of the Day twenty minutes to quell the enthusiasm of the revelers.

     From then on rumors persisted that the end was at hand. The Autobahn became jammed with German prisoners without guards, going to the rear in any vehicle they could find. Finally on May 8th, 1945, at reveille we were advised that this was VE day.

VE to VJ
 

     The end of hostilities brought many changes in the Battalion. The Batteries located in Braunschweig area consolidated into locations which took on more of a garrison aspect. Formal Guard Mount was instituted at the 9th Army enclosure and guard duty became routine. Local diversions were movies at the 9th Army Headquarters and baseball games with other units. Passes to Paris, Brussels and Maastricht furnished outside entertainment. About the middle of May, Conquer Rear moved from Munster to Gutersloh bringing the two sections of B Btry back to join the remainder of the first platoon. On June 20th B Btry Hdqs and second platoon moved to Gutersloh reuniting the entire Battery, which became attached to the newly formed branch of the 7th Army Judge Advocate General's Office. It was the task of this Office to try GI offenders who were confined in the 9th Army stockade at Gutersloh. B Btry took over one of the nicest sections of the city for billets and then entered its threefold mission of operating the stockade, furnishing jeeps and drivers to bring in witnesses from allover Germany, France, Belgium and Holland to the trials, and of pulling guard duty around the entire area. Jeep and truck drivers, during the three months stay in Gutersloh, traveled a total distance of almost 80,000 miles.

     The first of July found the 9th Army rapidly folding up. Ninth Army Headquarters had orders for redeployment through the USA. That meant all units under this command had to be transferred. In those last days the Battalion participated in two parades at the grounds within the enclosure. One of them was in honor of an Air Corps Colonel and the second in honor of General Simpson, the commander of the Ninth Army. The 573rd made a creditable showing and Colonel Welch subsequently received a letter of commendation.

     We were relieved of our duties when the 9th Army Headquarters left for the port in the middle of July. Packing and loading went into full swing while we awaited orders to move. We already knew that we were destined to join the 7th Army but the nature of our work had not been disclosed. Braunschweig was in the British Zone of Occupation so it was apparent that our move would have to be to the American Zone in the South. On July 21st the four Batteries in the Braunschweig area formed their lines and set out in convoy. The immediate destination was Giessen, where arrangements had been made for the Battalion to bivouac in a field for the night. The next day, C Btry and the second platoon of D Btry dropped out of the convoy at Darmstadt to take over operation of PWX Camp No.5.  Hdqs, A and the remainder of  D Btry continued to PWX Camp No. 1, about two miles north of Mannheim. It became the function of the Battalion to serve as hosts for the Ex-Prisoners of War assigned to these camps. Major Shugart took command at Darmstadt where the PWX's included Polish Soldiers and WAC's. At Mannheim the majority were Poles and Jugo-Slavs. As hosts we furnished housing, meals and clothing. When they indicated a desire to return to their native countries, we made the necessary arrangements for transportation as well as to furnish guards and administrative officers for the trip.

     Early in August the redeployment of men with high ASR scores began. The war in the Pacific now was rushing to a climax and the U.S. Fleet was able to shell the mainland of Japan at will. The announcement of the Atomic Bomb followed by the entry of Russia into the Pacific conflict spelled "Doom" to the Japanese Empire. As in the early days of May, rumors ran rife that the war was over. After several false announcements had led to premature celebrations, the official news finally came through. September 2, 1945, was VJ day.

     The final days of this History found the over age men on their way to processing centers for return to the USA and civilian life. It also found the rest of the men wondering when their turn would come. As the curtain fell, B Btry was continuing its mission at Gutersloh, C and half of D Btry were at PWX Camp No.5 at Darmstadt and the remainder of the Battalion was at PWX Camp No.1 near Mannheim. Life in this waiting period had settled to a routine of "I and E" classes, guard and other administrative duties, and athletics. Movies at the Camp Theater helped pass the evenings. Students had left for "I and E" Universities in France and England. Passes continued to Paris and Brussels. Furloughs became available to Switzerland, the Riviera and England. The Army system of "Hurry up and Wait" had run its course. We were just waiting the last "wait".

POSTWORD

     The members of the staff which compiled this edition take this opportunity to extend thanks and appreciation to all who through their advice, counsel and assistance have made this book possible. We are especially indebted to the many who loaned snapshots and negatives and furnished anecdotes to supplement the facts. To Captain Frederick C. Schmelz, formerly of the 572nd AAA A W BN, belongs the credit for the successful accomplishment of a great deal of the behind-the-scenes detail work which, without his efforts, could not have been achieved.

     We regret the inability to include within this book the picture of every man in the Battalion. To those who were omitted, we offer our apologies.

     If this book serves through the years as a reminder of the more pleasant aspects of military life and as a connecting link to the continuation of friendships made in the environment of war, we shall feel amply rewarded for our efforts.

     In closing we echo the words of Colonel Welch, wishing you all the best of luck in the days ahead.

CREDITS

Editor-in-Chief: Arthur W. Stetson

Business Manager: Robert W. Mayer

Art Editor: Robert A. Andris

Assistant Editors: Kenneth M. Boehner, John R. Teed, Edward J. Smillie, Jr., Sanford G. Rowenhorst, Michael V. Fiore,

                           Edward J. Szymanoski, Ernest E. Russo            

Advisors: Lt. Col. John M. Welch, Capt. Frederick C. Schmelz

Printed in Mannheim, Germany (undated)
 

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