Tag Archives: history

Christmas in the Hurtgen, 1944

20 Saturday Dec 2014

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December 1944. The 308th Engineer Combat Battalion of the 83rd US Infantry had moved from Steinsel, Luxembourg to Gey, Germany, where they were dug in from December 18 to 25. It was the coldest, snowiest winter Europe had seen in more than thirty years.

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Hitler’s army was pushing a last ditch counteroffensive against the Allies and the 308th was in the thick of it. It would become the bloodiest battle of the war: the Battle of the Bulge.

The Engineer companies supported the Infantry regiments in their attack and support missions. They worked on extensive road repairs and maintenance, mine sweeping and mine laying, bridge demolition and construction, splinter proof shelter construction and assistance to Artillery battalions in getting to forward positions.

Roads in the area were in very bad condition from heavy shelling. Shell fragments covered road surfaces, causing the engineers about fifty tire punctures daily as they hauled gravel in dump trucks to fill shell holes. Working long hours and having support from a Corps Engineer Battalion who worked exclusively on the roads, they kept the most important roads open.

For my dad, SSGT Harry J. Kirby, Jr, Co. C, and for most American GIs, no matter what else was going on, it was still Christmas. Herr Hitler was really making himself a nuisance with his Panzers and their big guns. The 83rd pushed back with all they had. But hey, it was Christmas.

Just before Christmas, Harry and the fellas found a treasure trove of beautiful glass Christmas ornaments in the cellar of a ruined farmhouse. Just what they needed!

In the forest, they picked out the perfect fir tree, not difficult in the Hurtgen Forest. In between their regular duties, they decorated that little tree and had their own little Christmas there amid the deep snow, bitter cold, and booming shells.

One of the guys had his camera. The gang gathered round the tree for a ‘family portrait’ and the soldier promised he would make sure everyone got a copy of the photo. It was a warm moment in the midst of a bleak winter far away from home for these American boys.

This is not the 308th, but these guys celebrated, too.

This is not the 308th, but these guys celebrated, too.

A few days later, in the hell that was the battle in the Hurtgen, that soldier was killed. Dad never told us his name or I would remember him here. But no one ever saw the precious photo of that Christmas tree, that little piece of home.

 

 

In 1994, the veterans of the 83rd returned to Europe, visiting Gey and the Hurtgen. Driving through the dark, dense forest, the old soldiers murmured to each other about ‘snow’ and ‘so cold’ and ‘minefields’ and ‘tree bursts’. It was a solemn moment for them, rife with memories.

Engineers Jim Prentice, Al Siverio, and Harry Kirby. June 1994

Engineers Jim Prentice, Al Siverio, and Harry Kirby. June 1994

The 308th departed Gey on Christmas Day 1944 and pushed on through Ossogne, Janee, and Biron, Belgium, where they remained into January 1945. In the beginning weeks of the new year, the 83rd was employed in the 7th Corps zone to defeat the German breakthrough in the vicinity north of Houffalize, Luxembourg. On 21 January, they assembled near Hamoir, Belgium, for rest and rehabilitation.

More peaceful times in Gey, June 1944. Harry's grandson, Mike, is at the far right.

More peaceful times in Gey, June 1944. Harry’s grandson, Mike, is at the far right.

 

 

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Giving Thanks

17 Monday Nov 2014

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November 1944. The Allied armies continued to take Europe back from Hitler’s iron fisted grip. Success followed success and the Americans had pushed from the beaches of Normandy all the way to Holland, Belgium, and Luxembourg. Hopes were high that the end of the war was near.

In Luxembourg, the 83rd Infantry Division continued to patrol east of the Moselle and Sauer Rivers between Bollindorf and Sierch Les Sains. The 308th Engineer Combat Battalion supported the infantry regiments with mine removal, obstacle removal, road reconnaissance, bridge construction, ferry operation, road repair, and instruction in booby traps and mines.

Co. C, 308th, was stationed in the little town of Steinsel. To the GIs, it was a little slice of heaven. Neat, clean, friendly……with a bakery that turned out the freshest, most delicious bread they could imagine. Sure beat the heck out of K-rations.

The fellas patronized the bakery so frequently, in fact, that the lieutenant had to order them to cut it out. There wasn’t enough bread for the townspeople when the GIs bought it all up.

The people liked the young, friendly American boys and when they discovered that November marked the celebration of that most American of holidays, Thanksgiving, they wanted to do something to show their appreciation to the soldiers far away from home. So the Steinsel folks invited individual GIs to share a Thanksgiving meal at their homes.

My dad, SGT Harry J. Kirby, was off duty, hanging out with some of the other engineers in the town center. Some young boys approached and with a few words in English and German, plus lots of gestures, the fellows understood that they were invited to dinner. One of the boys tugged at Harry’s arm. ‘Come with me,’ he urged. ‘My home. Please, eat.’

That was how dad spent Thanksgiving 1944, at the home of the Pleimling family, feasting on rabbit with all the trimmings Luxembourg could manage. He never forgot that kind gesture, and talked of it often to us when we were kids. Luxembourg was his favorite memory.

In 1994, we took dad to Europe to mark the 50th anniversary of the D-Day Invasion. On the itinerary was a visit to Luxembourg and well, it’s not very big…..why not go back to Steinsel?

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With two other engineer vets who had been in Steinsel in ’44, he found the town, not much changed in fifty years, still neat, friendly, beautiful.

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He also found the Pleimling family. And again, they invited the GIs into their home. Josef Pleimling, descendant of those other generous Pleimlings, had not been born yet in 1944, but he, his wife, and son served coffee and cakes from that long-remembered bakery to three old soldiers who still were surprised at the warm welcome they received.

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At the Pleimlings’ home in Steinsel, June 1994: my dad, Harry Kirby, Mrs. Pleimling, Josef Pleimling, their son; Al Silverio and Quinto DiAntoni, also engineers from the 308th.

Thank you, Pleimling family….and all the liberated citizens of Luxembourg who made it a Happy Thanksgiving 1944 for the 83rd Infantry.

You gave these engineers from the 83rd some warm and pleasant memories they were able to take with them when, only a few weeks later, they took part in the Battle of the Bulge.

In Fourteen Hundred Ninety Two….

12 Sunday Oct 2014

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Columbus Sailed The Ocean Blue!

And discovered America! And he was Italian! Everybody knows that, right?

Wrong, o history revisionists. Here, in my own words, is what actually happened:

Cristoforo Colombo (AKA Columbus) lived in Genoa. Which at the time was not Italy as we know it. He noticed that if he walked around the city in a circle from the west side, he would wind up on the east side at some point. Mamma Mia! This could work on the Ocean Blue. If you sailed a ship west, you would show up in the east. That’s where the spices are, the kind that you put in food so it’s hard to tell how old it is. The food, not the spices.

So he pitches the idea to the Genoese government, Genoa being a seafaring nation. We could make some money here.

Genoa says No, Che Pazzo. You’ll fall off the Earth.

Colombo heads to Spain, another seafaring nation, taking the West Is East idea with him. Long story short, Their Catholic Majesties Ferdinand of Castile and Isabella of Aragon like it. They buy in. He gets three ships (extra credit if you remember the names) and sails approximately west from Spain. Bring back spice.

Instead of falling into the abyss, Colombo and his men bump into…..well, it must be India. What else could it be?

Now we know it was one of those lush Caribbean islands. But then, nobody knew. So India.

No spice. But the weather is great. He claims it for Spain. All of it.

To summarize: an ex-pat from Genoa, a state in Italy, sailed under the auspices of Spain to an island somewhere well south of the large North American landmass. He had no idea where he was. His native land had brushed him off. Spain adopted him, bankrolled the operation, and then owned the New World.

With apologies to my Italian ancestors, it was a Spanish thing.

So anyway, half a millennium later, North America marks October 12 (or 13, if you want a three-day weekend) with Italian themed parades and mattress sales. To tell the truth, neither of these means Discovered America. Come on.

In Philadelphia, hundreds of miles from Colombo’s landing place, we have a monument to Columbus, as he is now known, touting his discovery. It’s on the riverfront. Why Philadelphia? He didn’t sail up the Delaware.

Even worse, to take the myth a step further, the city was convinced to change the name of the wide thoroughfare that borders the river from Delaware Avenue to Columbus Boulevard.

The Native American Indian tribes in the area were the Delawares. Not the Columbuses. How insensitive…. They were here, he was not. Ever. So what’s the honor? Why?

I’ll never understand and I’ll never say Columbus Boulevard, either! My personal defiance.

Enjoy your holiday, Americans all! Go to a nice Italian parade, buy a mattress, honor the lost Genoese mercenary who gave us the day off! Accuracy need not count! Most of all, have a little chuckle on me!

One last thing…
My fellow North Americans in Canada and Mexico….do you also get the day off, have Italian parades, and buy mattresses? Just wondered.

One more last thing….
My Irish ancestors were here first.

Comanche Code Talkers in WW 2

30 Wednesday Jul 2014

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I was reading an American Legion magazine and saw a story on the death of Chester Nez, last of the Navajo Code Talkers of the Second World War. These native Americans served with the US Marines in the Pacific Theatre, confounding the Japanese by sending coded messages in their native language. The code has never been broken.

When I visited the beaches of Normandy, France, in remembrance of the 70th anniversary of the invasion of Europe by Allied forces, I learned that another tribe of native Americans, the Comanche, also served as code talkers in their language. They were the only code talkers in the European theatre of war; apparently Hitler knew of code talkers in World War 1 and had been trying to learn the Indian languages in case the codes were used against his forces. He didn’t succeed; the languages are usually not written and use symbols instead of words. But the US knew of his efforts and code talkers were not used as extensively in Europe as they were in the Pacific.

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Not aware of this, I was surprised to see these men and their families at the memorial ceremony at Omaha Beach. The descendants of that small band of Comanche code talkers came to pay homage to their ancestors.

The Comanche families held a beautiful ceremony of their own at Utah Beach, where thirteen of their ancestors landed with the 4th Infantry. In full ceremonial dress, using the ancient language, they thanked the spirits and blessed the beach. Tourists from many countries watched, engrossed in the deeply respectful scene.

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The service the code talkers provided was invaluable. Particularly since the US government had tried to eliminate the Native American languages. Charles Chibbity, the recently deceased last of the Comanche talkers, said, “They tried to make us quit talking Indian in school, now they want us to talk Indian.” (www.defense.gov/specials/nativeam02)

But he went on to say, “I felt I was doing something that the military wanted us to do and we did it to the best of our ability, not only to save lives, but to confuse the enemy by talking in the Comanche language. We felt we were doing something that could help win the war.”

Present day officials at Comanche headquarters in Lawton, Oklahoma are trying to preserve the language by teaching it to children.

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This photo shows the original group of Comanche Code Talkers from WW II. The photo is from the Comanche Museum website. The first message from Utah Beach was sent by PFC Larry Saupitty: “Tsaak nunnuwee. Atahtu nunnuwee.” Translated, it says “We made a good landing. We landed in the wrong place.”

But they were in the right place, at the right time, and they demonstrated their loyalty and allegiance to the United States by their service, in spite of past harsh treatment.

On my bucket list was ‘want to meet a code talker.’ They’re all gone now, Navajo, Comanche, Choctaw…. But witnessing the Comanche descendants’ tribute is a privilege I will never forget. Thank you.

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London: It’s Not For Sissies

13 Friday Jun 2014

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I can describe getting around London in two words: Im. Possible.

Got in on the Eurostar on Sunday night. It was after 11pm….traffic wasn’t bad. We got into our flat near Harrods and hit the beds. Phew!
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The view from the front window of our flat. That’s Harrods in the middle.

We woke to city sights and sounds, much different from the quiet Normandy countryside we had left. Not until we went out to explore did we find out how many sights and sounds were out there.
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Each morning, the Queen’s horses came clip clopping down the street, getting their pre-event exercise. The Royal Mews was nearby.

First of all, crossing streets. Impossible. It’s bad enough that traffic is coming from the opposite direction, no matter which way you look. But crosswalks, a supposedly safe place to cross, are not at corners, but staggered in various places along the street.

And the traffic!? Impossible. I have never seen such traffic! Cars, taxis, buses, cycles, just swarms of them, they never stop coming. I must say though that the air was cleaner since last time I was there. They have cleaned up those diesels. But the volume, the sheer numbers of motor vehicles……..
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Yes, that is a gold Ferrari. No, it is not my rental.

That makes surface travel ….. impossible. We did one of those hop on-hop off bus trips, thinking to save time finding the places we wanted to see: Westminster Abbey, The Tower, St. Paul’s, etc. It took HOURS and we got a nice sunburn sitting on top of the bus. Sunburnt in London…..not impossible this trip.
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Actually, it was kind of hot. London hot, not Philadelphia hot, but still. And adding to the heat were the masses of people crowding the city. Gangs of them.

To begin with, Britain was celebrating the DDay landings. People from all over the Isles jammed the city, joined by people from Commonwealth countries and former possessions. Many Middle Easterners and Africans. Asians. Europeans. You could hear a different language every few feet you walked. And you walked ssssslllloooowly.

The Queen was back home, the Royal Standard was flying over Buckingham Palace, and the guard needed changing. Let’s all get over there!

It was Prince Philip’s 93rd birthday. We need a 42 gun salute and let’s close a few streets to traffic near the salute venue, just in case it’s not confusing enough to get around.
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Somewhere in there, Prince Philip is taking his birthday salute in Hyde Park.

But mostly, Saturday, June 14 marks the Queen’s official birthday celebration, a huge event. Another reason for crowds! And more events! And street closings!

At Westminster Abbey, there was noticeable police presence and admission to the Abbey would be ‘delayed’. Well, that was worth the wait because this event included Prince Charles as the senior royal in attendance. I waved; I don’t think he noticed, though.
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Prince Charles is flanked by Abbey potentates. See him there in the middle?

So even though I did manage to see and do most of what I planned, I gave up on a lot of other things simply because getting around was: IMPOSSIBLE!

Now back in France, in Paris. They aren’t celebrating WW II until August, on the anniversary of the Liberation of Paris. Their Bastille Day is not for another month. And it’s nobody’s birthday. Hoo-rah. Much less traffic. Easier to cross the street. Ok, too crowded at the Eiffel Tower, but I’ve been up there several times so……

Now relaxing. A lot to be said for this relaxing thing. Talk to ya later!

D-Day +70 Years

09 Monday Jun 2014

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I’m skipping over yesterday and heading right into today: June 6, 2014.

It’s about 3:25 pm here and we just left the American Cemetery at Colleville. Thing is, we arrived there before 8 this morning.

And we got up at 4:30 so we could leave the hotel at 5:30 so we could get our security clearance credentials so we could get to the ceremony on time.

 

We did, particularly since the show didn’t start til10:45.

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On the way, massive security in place everywhere. Roads closed all across Normandy. Police, soldiers, roadblocks, bomb sniffing dogs, paratroops of our 82nd Airborne Division.

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We were pulled into a checkpoint; passports scanned, bus thoroughly vetted. Funny incident: the dogs were checking the underneath luggage holds…..they run right on in and start sniffing all around. The one checking
our bus started barking. Soldiers came racing over, gendarmes yelling real loud in French. Bus driver and guide have no idea what’s going on. Concerned looks are exchanged. Lots of Frenchness exploding.

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Finally, we stand down from red alert. Turns out the dog got a whiff of our lunches, secured in a cooler in the hold.

Meanwhile, we sat. Sat some more. Then trickled our way to Colleville.

Where we went through more security and sat some more.

It was great to see how proud those old warriors were, waiting for the Presidents of France and the United States. Frail, some of them, sitting in wheelchairs, accompanied by children, grandchildren…even great grandchildren. Wearing their uniforms from back in the day….or maybe part of a uniform. And their medals, all shined up and in rows across their chests.
So hard to imagine them as cocky young guys barely in their twenties…..many younger…..who took on such an enormous task.

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The local people of France were there, too, to greet them and to offer sincere gratitude for the privilege to be born in a free country.

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In the crowd were some Comanche Code Talkers. What an honor to see them. Their contribution to the war was incredible. Only the USA has people who can use their unwritten native language to confound the enemy. (See my later post on the Comanche Code Talkers.)

I don’t recall much about the speeches from the presidents. President Hollande spoke with much passion; President Obama spoke longer but it wasn’t a bad speech. Just not memorable.

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The Presidents placed this wreath, with assistance from the veterans.

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French Marines helping with crowd control.

Eventually, the event was over and we were cleared to leave the cemetery. Unfortunately, this is where chaos erupted.

Total. Chaos.

Considering how smooth the logistics went on getting TO the ceremony, getting FROM the ceremony was just horrendous. No one knew what to do. Who should go where. To get on which bus. That would, or might, be going where you wanted to go. The gendarmes had made all the buses clear out to a holding area five kilometers away. But letting them return over those secured roads…well, that’s gonna take some time.

I attended the 50th Anniversary of D-Day Ceremonies in 1994, with my dad, my son and my sister. Things then were even worse, actually, so while I wasn’t particularly surprised, I did think that things might have been ironed out a little better after twenty years.

But no.

We had all been separated at the ceremony, so there were people from our tour wandering around the parking lots searching for familiar faces. Any faces. We were really, really hungry…it was past noon and we’d been on the road since O Dark Hundred that morning. We wanted those lunches that had been ok’ed by the sniffing dog. Tempers frayed, faces broiled in the sun, we were worried about our older companions. The guide contacted the driver but the gendarmes wouldn’t let the bus through back to the cemetery.

We sat. We shared water and some kind of Army rations ( don’t do this) with guys from the 82nd. Who also were stuck. I am very patient particularly when there’s nothing else to be done. But we were all just so tired….

We are still not sure how we managed it, but at long LONG last, the driver called and said, “J’arrive!” I am here!

So as I said, we started the trudge back to our hotel almost three and a half hours after the presidents’ departure let us free. Well, it sure was a memorable experience.

Back at the hotel, everyone who was able showed up at the bar for a replay. More chaos, but much more congenial!

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A contingent of Brits were staying, including the Command Sergeant Major of the Irish Rangers. He was telling us how he’d been chatting with Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall while having a break in the British events at Arromanches. I’m pretty sure that’s what he was saying. He had a really, really thick accent….I did a lot of smiling and nodding while he talked.

I think we may have become engaged at one point. Not sure.

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The Boys From Philly (oh, I haven’t mentioned them yet? Much more about them coming soon!) held court, and wound up inviting the SGM to the Irish Week celebrations in North Wildwood, New Jersey. But he can’t come in that British uniform. This will be SOME clambake. Those of you who are in the vicinity should go!

I don’t know when the festivities broke up. I just know I wasn’t there because I went to bed and slept the sleep of the innocent. The exhausted innocent.

More soon!

D Day – 4 and other musings

02 Monday Jun 2014

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Met a young man yesterday who was at a baby’s christening celebration. It came out during our conversation that I was going to France for the D Day remembrance and he told me that he really wanted to be there with his 90 year old dad but his status as a new father (to a two-week old boy) prevented the trip. They had gone to Normandy in 2008 for a tour of the beaches. His dad was in the 29th Infantry back in the day; that outfit was hit hard in the invasion. He mentioned the St. Lo breakout…my dad’s bunch took part in that, too. Funny, these connections life tosses at you. Thank you, Mike, for sharing some of your stories with me. Also enjoyed meeting your pretty wife, Jordan.

Still tying up loose ends here on the home front: checking the weather forecasts for Bayeux for the rest of the week, and it looks like a little bit of everything. Friday, June 6, apparently will be dry and kind of warm. Good news for sure.

Also picking up a few euros at the bank. Better exchange rates than at the airport. Good to have a little cash in hand.

My wonderful son Mike and my ‘baby’ brother Jim are house sitting for me. Check. Making copies a passports and credit card info in case of disaster. Check. Gathering all the charging devices for the electronic gadgets. Check, I think.

I’m taking my Ipad, cell phone, digital camera….and the implements needed to charge them overnight…..plus gizmos to give them a fast jolt. If I forget one of these, I’m doomed. Gotta stay connected, right? I figure that at some point I will just put all this stuff away and be in the moment!

Tomorrow’s liftoff is @6 pm. Let’s see how the travel experience goes…..from scanning vouchers for boarding passes to having the approved size and shape luggage to getting through security without setting off alarms by carrying more than one ounce liquids. It ain’t your grandma’s way to travel, that’s for sure!

D-Day – 8

30 Friday May 2014

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Details… Went to the bank to get euros and pounds sterling. The dollar is not worth as much! And pounds cost more than euros.

My Facebook page is filling up with lots of posts about the upcoming ceremonies…..it sounds like France is getting ready to PARTY! I read that Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip headed there today….they were with us on Omaha Beach at the 50th anniversary. Maybe I’ll run into them again! HA!

A check of the weather in Bayeux tells me to bring the rain gear and some warm clothes. I knew that from last two times…it’s not balmy in the north of France. Of course, who cares, right??

Looking forward to to a lovely weekend and some frantic last minute stuff on Monday. Time goes so fast!