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W. Earl Hall World War II stories, 1944
Letter #15
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Slug-Destruction Left-4 By W. EARL HALL Globe-Gazette Managing Editor (Letter No. 15) Cherbourg, France (Special Air Mail)--The term "total war" took on a new reality and meaning for me late yesterday when, riding in an air force jeep, I came through the peninsular city of Montebourg. Destruction at St. Mere Eglise, near where I spent the day following an early morning disembarking on an historic beachhead, had given me an impressive introduction to war's havoc. But it was at Montebourg that I saw destruction at what seemed to me to be its most terrifying scale. If in this little city, about the size of Charles City, Ia., there is a single building intact, it escaped my notice. Some of the business blocks and homes have gaping holes in their tile roofs. But most of them are completely razed. Not even churches have escaped destruction. Bell towers, you see, were favorite observation sites for the Nazis as allied troops moved inland from their beachheads. The countryside was littered with the ruined remnants of tanks, airplanes and gliders. Here and there were giant craters in the yellowish soil, left by shells from naval craft off shore. The pavement over nearly every culvert showed the effects of having blown up by mines planted by the Germans as they moved back under the force of allied mechanized might. Prominent in the heavy traffic which choked the roads were horse-drawn vehicles bearing the household effects of Normandy's natives who had moved out weeks ago to escape war's fury. Some of them were going back to intact homes. Others, many others, were going back to repair damages ranging from holes in roof to complete destruction. Small children lined the roads. From most of them there was a friendly wave of the hand and a smile. Some were wearing clothing given to them by Americans, including over-sized hob-nail shoes. Meadows were green and cattle which would be the envy of an Iowa dairyman or beef-raiser were grazing peacefully in desolated surroundings. Many livestock had been killed but many remained in this area which has been known as "France's breadbasket." Orchards hung heavy with apples of an under-sized variety, used as the basis of one of Normandy's principal industries, cider and calvados. The latter France's equivalent of America's applejack, has the effect of making Frenchmen forget all about the war--temporarily. As we neared Cherbourg, we began seeing evidences of the Hitler coastal fortifications which were assumed to be impregnable. On high ground were forts of massive concrete construction with guns covering wide stretches of valley ground. All of these had been ground into powder by American heavy guns and bombs. Hedgerows which line almost every foot of Normandy's roads had provided perfect cover for Nazi snipers. Every few miles this sign along the road reminded us of the heavy fighting which had occurred in that very area only a few weeks ago: "This ground cleared of mines only to hedgerow." That meant there was death still lurking in the fields only a few paces from where we were bouncing along at 40 miles an hour -- 30 --
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Slug-Destruction Left-4 By W. EARL HALL Globe-Gazette Managing Editor (Letter No. 15) Cherbourg, France (Special Air Mail)--The term "total war" took on a new reality and meaning for me late yesterday when, riding in an air force jeep, I came through the peninsular city of Montebourg. Destruction at St. Mere Eglise, near where I spent the day following an early morning disembarking on an historic beachhead, had given me an impressive introduction to war's havoc. But it was at Montebourg that I saw destruction at what seemed to me to be its most terrifying scale. If in this little city, about the size of Charles City, Ia., there is a single building intact, it escaped my notice. Some of the business blocks and homes have gaping holes in their tile roofs. But most of them are completely razed. Not even churches have escaped destruction. Bell towers, you see, were favorite observation sites for the Nazis as allied troops moved inland from their beachheads. The countryside was littered with the ruined remnants of tanks, airplanes and gliders. Here and there were giant craters in the yellowish soil, left by shells from naval craft off shore. The pavement over nearly every culvert showed the effects of having blown up by mines planted by the Germans as they moved back under the force of allied mechanized might. Prominent in the heavy traffic which choked the roads were horse-drawn vehicles bearing the household effects of Normandy's natives who had moved out weeks ago to escape war's fury. Some of them were going back to intact homes. Others, many others, were going back to repair damages ranging from holes in roof to complete destruction. Small children lined the roads. From most of them there was a friendly wave of the hand and a smile. Some were wearing clothing given to them by Americans, including over-sized hob-nail shoes. Meadows were green and cattle which would be the envy of an Iowa dairyman or beef-raiser were grazing peacefully in desolated surroundings. Many livestock had been killed but many remained in this area which has been known as "France's breadbasket." Orchards hung heavy with apples of an under-sized variety, used as the basis of one of Normandy's principal industries, cider and calvados. The latter France's equivalent of America's applejack, has the effect of making Frenchmen forget all about the war--temporarily. As we neared Cherbourg, we began seeing evidences of the Hitler coastal fortifications which were assumed to be impregnable. On high ground were forts of massive concrete construction with guns covering wide stretches of valley ground. All of these had been ground into powder by American heavy guns and bombs. Hedgerows which line almost every foot of Normandy's roads had provided perfect cover for Nazi snipers. Every few miles this sign along the road reminded us of the heavy fighting which had occurred in that very area only a few weeks ago: "This ground cleared of mines only to hedgerow." That meant there was death still lurking in the fields only a few paces from where we were bouncing along at 40 miles an hour -- 30 --
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