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W. Earl Hall World War II stories, 1944
Letter #16
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Slug-goes across-#4 By W. EARL HALL Globe-Gazette Managing Editor Letter No. 16 Cherbourg, France (Special Air Mail)--When the full story is written about why victory was with allied arms in this war, a lustrous chapter is going to be devoted to that type f ship known as LST--(landing ship for tanks.) My passage from England to a peninsular beachhead here in Normandy was made on one of these amazing craft. I've seen at close range the inestimable contribution they're making. It was in the early morning that I came aboard at a South England port city. There was a disagreeable rain. The waves were mounting and the ship was already under way as I transferred, by chain ladder, from the launch which transported me from shore to LST. Although my credentials were a bit scanty and although I was in civilian garb, I was made welcome by the crew of LST No. 521. I shall not be forgetting the kindnesses bestowed upon me by Skipper L. K. Wing and his associates, including Ensign D. H. Sillers of Calvin, N. Dak., Ensign Robert W. Gordeon of St. Louis, Ensign John Hartman of Detroit and Ensign William E. Ridgway of Randolph, wis. Not the least of the pleasures of my stay on 521 was the mess. After a week and a half of London fare, I was in a mood to appreciate the naval rations. The passage was rough across the channel, as it had been 17 years ago when I suffered my only case of seasickness on this same run. I helped matters by assuming a horizontal position in my bunk. No meals lost. The LST on which I rode had been made at Seneca, Ill. It was about a block in length and built to carry a surprisingly large amount of cargo. Their principal mark of distinction, of course, is their absolutely flat bottoms, permitting them to ride into a beachhead at high tide and settle to the sandy beach as the tide recedes. Our arrival off the beachhead was in the late evening--just too late to move into position for beaching. This meant an extra night on board ship. And I may say this was no disappointment to me. Next morning I arose early and from the ship's bow, I watched the tide recede. Finally the order was given to open gates and lower the ramps. Perched high on the seat of an army vehicle, I moved down the precipitous incline from LST to beach and moved across what on D-day has been a bloody battleground. I didn't know just where I was headed--but I was on my way. After skirting the beach and moving inland a few miles, our caravan came to a transit area base presided over by Capt. H. E. Seitzler of Baton Rouge, La., who, with Lt. J. B. Hetzel of Harrisburg, Pa., became may host for the day. What a few short weeks ago had been a Normandy meadow and orchard was now serving as a traffic concentration point. Pup tents provided shelter against a misty rain but dozens of fox holes under hedgerows recalled the days not long since when Americans had to protect themselves against enemy shrapnel and our own flak. It was from here, late in the afternoon, I set out for Cherbourg for my first glimpse at the destruction of total war described in my last letter. My day with Capt. Seitzler gave me at least a hint of the rigors being experienced by American boys as they extend the various spearheads in the direction of the reich. -- 30 --
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Slug-goes across-#4 By W. EARL HALL Globe-Gazette Managing Editor Letter No. 16 Cherbourg, France (Special Air Mail)--When the full story is written about why victory was with allied arms in this war, a lustrous chapter is going to be devoted to that type f ship known as LST--(landing ship for tanks.) My passage from England to a peninsular beachhead here in Normandy was made on one of these amazing craft. I've seen at close range the inestimable contribution they're making. It was in the early morning that I came aboard at a South England port city. There was a disagreeable rain. The waves were mounting and the ship was already under way as I transferred, by chain ladder, from the launch which transported me from shore to LST. Although my credentials were a bit scanty and although I was in civilian garb, I was made welcome by the crew of LST No. 521. I shall not be forgetting the kindnesses bestowed upon me by Skipper L. K. Wing and his associates, including Ensign D. H. Sillers of Calvin, N. Dak., Ensign Robert W. Gordeon of St. Louis, Ensign John Hartman of Detroit and Ensign William E. Ridgway of Randolph, wis. Not the least of the pleasures of my stay on 521 was the mess. After a week and a half of London fare, I was in a mood to appreciate the naval rations. The passage was rough across the channel, as it had been 17 years ago when I suffered my only case of seasickness on this same run. I helped matters by assuming a horizontal position in my bunk. No meals lost. The LST on which I rode had been made at Seneca, Ill. It was about a block in length and built to carry a surprisingly large amount of cargo. Their principal mark of distinction, of course, is their absolutely flat bottoms, permitting them to ride into a beachhead at high tide and settle to the sandy beach as the tide recedes. Our arrival off the beachhead was in the late evening--just too late to move into position for beaching. This meant an extra night on board ship. And I may say this was no disappointment to me. Next morning I arose early and from the ship's bow, I watched the tide recede. Finally the order was given to open gates and lower the ramps. Perched high on the seat of an army vehicle, I moved down the precipitous incline from LST to beach and moved across what on D-day has been a bloody battleground. I didn't know just where I was headed--but I was on my way. After skirting the beach and moving inland a few miles, our caravan came to a transit area base presided over by Capt. H. E. Seitzler of Baton Rouge, La., who, with Lt. J. B. Hetzel of Harrisburg, Pa., became may host for the day. What a few short weeks ago had been a Normandy meadow and orchard was now serving as a traffic concentration point. Pup tents provided shelter against a misty rain but dozens of fox holes under hedgerows recalled the days not long since when Americans had to protect themselves against enemy shrapnel and our own flak. It was from here, late in the afternoon, I set out for Cherbourg for my first glimpse at the destruction of total war described in my last letter. My day with Capt. Seitzler gave me at least a hint of the rigors being experienced by American boys as they extend the various spearheads in the direction of the reich. -- 30 --
World War II Diaries and Letters
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