december 2004 we fought as the rangers’ artilleryor rocket propelled grenades (rpgs) followed...

Edward L. Trey —

News accounts of our Sicily invasionin TIME Magazine and much later inVFW Magazine named as the initialassault units Rangers and 509thParachute Infantry – but failed tomention our 83rd Chemical MortarBattalion. The closest we came to duerecognition was VFW Magazinecrediting the “83rd Motor Bn.” asRanger support. Close, but no cigar!Thinking back, each of us asindividuals recall details of our Gelalanding. At H-Hour minus 15 minutesa small number of us deployed intoan LCVP down rope ladders, from theTask Force flagship Monrovia. Aswith all of us, the trip to shore wasrough, attracting artillery andmachinegun fire. The troops, almost all seasick andcomplaining about lack of room,found plenty of space in the boatbottom when shells and bullets werefinding their range. Once ashore, during reconnaissancefor an OP, we and a Ranger captainfound an abandoned Italian 75-mmgun pointing toward the sea.Alongside of it was a stack of shells.We managed to turn it around andexpend these rounds inland.Eventually our OP was established onthe top floor of an apartmentbuilding, with observation throughthe raised sash of a bathroomwindow. While directing fire from our4.2’s, we were fortunate to alsoprovide temporary fire direction for the cruiser Savannah offshore, with devastating effect throughoutthe first morning.

This operation was the beginning ofrecognition for the effectiveness ofour 4.2 mortars, not from the media,but much more important – from thetroops we were supportingthroughout the Sicilian and Italiancampaigns.

In a magazine article, CommandHistorian Dr. Burton Wright III, wroteabout three battalions of Rangerslanding on D-Day at Mairoi, Italy. Hecited the critical support given theRangers by Companies C and D of our 83rd – “the Rangers’ Artillery”– as 1,500 Rangers moved inland toseize Chiunzi Pass and Monte St. Angelo.Wright told about how two peakscommanded the German supplyroute to the south of Naples, and thuswere critical terrain to the Germans.For three weeks the Germansattacked the thinning band of Rangersas they clung to their peaks againstinfantry attacks and the intenseartillery bombardment. He describedhow in that time, our Companiesexpended 14,000 mortar rounds, and“directly supported the Rangers withthe firepower, and when the Rangers

became thin on the ground,mortarmen from the two companiespicked up their weapons and movedup into the line to fight as infantry.”Grateful credit was given our 83rd byRanger Commander Colonel Darbywho said his unit’s ability to holdChiunzi Pass was “largely due to thechemical mortar battalion attached tothe unit.”So although the folks at home wereunaware, we of the 83rd take quietpride in having supported and foughtalongside those legendary Rangers,virtually all of whom chose to dierather than surrender whensurrounded at Cisterna on the AnzioBeachhead. Colonel Darby, who criedat the loss of his troops, was himselfkilled in combat during the last daysof fighting in Northern Italy.We must never forget!

We Fought as the Rangers’ ArtilleryTHE NEWSLETTER OF THE 83RD CHEMICAL MORTAR BATTALION VETERANS ASSOCIATION

Issue Highlights

Active 83rd . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2

President’s Report . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3

Mountain Fighting . . . . . . . . . . . . .4

LST-422 Survivors . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5

Dog Tags . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .6

Anzio & Rome . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .7

Round Away . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8

Airborne Landing . . . . . . . . . . . . . .9

Tank Destroyer Protection . . . . . . .10

Long Recovery . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11

Where We Are . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .12

December 2004

2 Muzzleblasts • The Newsletter of the 83rd Chemical Mortar Battalion Veterans Association

83rd Chemical Readies for Future Action

© 2004MUZZLEBLASTS

is a publication of the 83rd Chemical Mortar Battalion

Veterans Association 53 Camp Avenue

Darien, Connecticut 06820203-595-9325

[email protected]•

83rd Chemical Mortar BattalionVeterans Association Officers:

Bill Hoover, PresidentGini Lemoine, Vice President

Jean Decky, Secretary •

Muzzleblasts Staff:Publisher: Bill Hoover

Issue Editor: Lee SteedleArt Director: Bill SteedleIllustrator: Sam Kweskin

•This Issue’s Contributors:

George BarrettTrisha Bridges

Robert P. Brimm*Robert J. Bush

Bob FentonWilliam C. Ford

William J. Gallagher, Jr.Glenn HelselBill Hoover

Sam Kweskin Andrew C. Leech*

John P. McEvoy Dan Miller

Lawrence PowellClark RiddleLee Steedle

Kelso “Red” ThompsonEd Trey

Rudolph Whitt* Deceased

Lt. Colonel Michael BolluytCommanding Officer of the

83D Chemical Battalion

Attacks on coalition forces continueon a daily basis in Iraq, both day andnight, consisting of ImprovisedExplosive Devices (IEDs), handgrenades, small arms and mortar fire.Soft skin vehicle convoys are theprimary targets and are beingambushed with the initiation of IEDsor rocket propelled grenades (RPGs)followed immediately by small armsfire. The insurgents vary their timeand method of attack; surprising thecoalition forces. It is no longer onlythe combat arms units’ responsibilityto train in conventional tactics andwar fighting skills; it’s theresponsibility of every militaryspecialty to train and fight as aninfantryman.

The soldiers of the 83D ChemicalBattalion improved their ability tofight in the common operatingenvironment by conducting manytraining exercises that emphasizedprotecting the force. These exercisesensured the soldiers are ready tofight, defend and react to any enemyaction both overseas and at home.These exercises have included abuddy and room clearing Live FireExercise (LFX) in April 2004, aConvoy Certification Lane (OperationDragon Pride) in July 2004, a BrigadeConvoy Live Fire Exercise (CLFX) inAugust 2004, and a Battalion DefenseNBC Readiness Exercise (OperationDragon Storm) in October 2004. All ofthese exercises provided the soldiersthe opportunity to conduct MilitaryOperations in Urban Terrain andenhanced the soldiers’ ability to scan,aim and fire decisively at targets. Thesoldiers were also able to react toambushes, IEDs, vehicle recoveryunder fire, MEDEVAC procedures,and deal with civilians on thebattlefield. The 83D ChemicalBattalion continues to shape andadapt to the current threats againstthe coalition forces abroad andprepares for the next time the nationwill call.

Soldiers of the 83D Chemical Battalion during a recent Live Fire Exercise.

Muzzleblasts • The Newsletter of the 83rd Chemical Mortar Battalion Veterans Association 3

From YourAssociation OfficersNo big update for you this time, butwe are working together on variousprojects. Gini continues her search forout-of-touch buddies for our mailinglist, and Jean Decky is compiling allthe information we requested in thelast Muzzleblasts — but we stillhaven’t heard from all of you.This Summer will be the 60thanniversary of the 83rd’sdisbandment, 60 years since all of youwere just a little younger, and some ofus younger ones were just a glint inyour eye. Come to the next 83rd CMBreunion in Gettysburg. There we willall feel younger. Here are the details:One day shorter than usual —Thursday, June 16, to Sunday(Father’s Day) June 19. TheEisenhower Inn & Conference Center,three miles outside of Gettysburg. Rate: $10682 per night for two people,taxes included. For reservations: 800-776-8349; or 717-334-8121. Whenyou call, tell them that you’re with the83rd CMB and want our special grouprate. We are in their computer now, andthey are awaiting your reservations today!

More buddies found: Over the pastfew months we have heard from tenold 83rd buddies who hadn’t knownwe were having reunions, or that theMuzzleblasts is still being published.Please send us the names of any otherbuddies who you know are not on ourlist, so we can keep them in touchwith what is going on.If you ever want another copy ofMuzzleblasts for a friend or familymember, just let your officers know.We’ll be happy to send you one, aslong as they last. We also have about20 Mark Freedom PAID books too —just $1500 postpaid. This is the second and last of twoMuzzleblasts edited by Lee Steedle. As we knew from the start, he’sunable to continue because of othercommitments. The goal has been torefocus our newsletter on the storiesand recollections of our veterans. We (Lee and Bill Steedle, along withSam Kweskin) have succeeded.Twenty of our 83rd veterans havecontributed over two dozen storiesand illustrations to these two issues;and the flow of material continues. We have several veterans’ storiesawaiting publication in the next issue.

Invitation:If you enjoyw o r k i n gwith words,and youwould like toadvance thespirit ofMuzzleblasts,I invite oneor two ofyou toconsider editing our next issue. To smooth the transition, Lee hasagreed to assist by editing and settinginto column form a half-dozen storiesof your choosing. Please call or writeLee or me to discuss this!Lastly, I would like to thank Lee andhis son Bill for giving their time, talentand energy to creating these last twoMuzzleblasts. We now need to keepthis going. I do hope that YOU will —and you will have help!That’s all for now. We’ll be thinking of you!

— Gini Lemoine, Jean Decky, and yours truly, Bill Hoover.

Remembering OranGeorge Barrett —

When we arrived in Oran, Africa,Tony Imperato and I decided to gointo town. Suddenly, the whole sky litup and I said “Great, Tony, they arehaving a celebration — look at all thefireworks!” I urged Tony “Let’s hurryup so we don't miss anything”.All of a sudden all this stuff wasfalling from the sky. As we trottedalong, we asked each other whatcould this stuff be that was falling allaround us? Never having been in anair raid, we didn’t recognize that flakwas raining down upon us. That wasour first air raid, and one that I willnever forget.

Editor's Note: George suffered a badfall at our Washington reunion, due toan unfinished floor in the hotel’scorridor. This resulted in a trip to thehospital and missing our businessmeeting. As of this writing, George’shead and neck are still giving him trouble. He’d like to hear from his old buddies — particularly thosewho attended our June reunion. George’s phone is: 215-334-4247.

Lee Steedle —

Bill Gallagher’s Oran story aboutArabs selling wine, printed in the lastMuzzleblasts, brings to mind otherOran experiences with Arabs andwine bottles.Before joining the 83rd in Pozzuoli Ispent eleven months as cadre in theCanastel Replacement Depot justoutside Oran, a city where unwary,

unarmed GIs were frequentlyassaulted. One night making my wayback to a Canastel truck and walkingdown the center of a dark street, I heard footsteps, then a crash a half-block ahead. Running up, I saw a GIbleeding badly from face and headcuts, with a broken wine bottle besidehim. Some Arab, seeing him stag-gering along with the bottle in hishand, had broken it over his head andstolen his wallet. I got him some help,and wondered later what might havehappened if I had reached that spotwithout the other GI being ahead of me.I was a green, eighteen year old kid atthe time, but found a drinking buddyin street-smart S/Sgt. Jack Ross. One late afternoon we’d rolledthrough several bars drinkingmuscatel, and emerged from one with

(continued on page 6)


William C. Ford —

We spent Christmas Day, 1944,fighting in the mountains aboveVenafro, which is nine miles southeastof Cassino as the crow flies. Theweather and the terrain greatlyfavored the German defenders.It was cold and blustery, with highwinds constantly blowing into ourfaces. The lack of good visibilitycreated problems for our forwardobservers, as we were firing at shortrange in support of attacking Rangers.It was difficult to get supplies of foodand ammunition to our mortarpositions high on those rocky slopes.They could be carried by Jeeps only ashort distance up the narrow, muddyroad, after which they would betransported the rest of the way up tous on the backs of mules. We had to rely on Italian mule-skinners, because their animals wouldonly respond to commands in thatlanguage. The mule train wouldusually come up to us after dark, andalthough we were hungry for thechow and mail, this made us uneasybecause in spite of the fact that themules were sure-footed, their hoovesclicked loudly on the rocky trail, andmight easily be heard by infiltratingGerman patrols.

Almost every night, the worst tripwas back down the mountain, withthe mule train carrying the stiff,frozen bodies of soldiers who hadbeen killed during that day.It saddened me to see those bodiesbeing loaded on mules’ backs, but thatwas the only way we could get themoff the mountain. The thought oftencame to me that it was good theirmothers were spared the sight ofseeing their sons that way. I wondered, as others in our platoonmust have also, whether my turnwould come to be strapped onto amule’s back for that sad ride down the mountain.It was with a great sense of relief forall of us, when our Company waspulled back down from those coldmountains at the end of December.Robert P. Brimm —

On November 29th the Rangersjumped off, infiltrating and fightingtheir way through the well-organizedenemy positions and mined areas.83rd’s Company B supported theoperation from positions to the rear ofMt. Rotondo. At dawn, an overwhelming enemyattack of regimental strengthsurrounded the Rangers. Targets were

engaged with heavy concentrations ofmortar fire. A daylong smoke screenwas maintained as the Rangers foughttheir way out. The force receivedconsiderable casualties, but the nextday assembled in the vicinity ofCeppagna.The plan called for the 3rd RangerBattalion to gain the commandingground above San Pietro. 83rd’s B Company set up their mortarshalfway up the mountain and gaveheavy support as the Rangersattacked crest 950, which controlledthe ground above San Pietro. Theobjective was reached, but an intensecounter attack forced the Rangers towithdraw. Enemy fire was intense,and one platoon of B Companyreceived over 50% casualties.Concentrated mortar fire was placedon the objective for two days, and theRangers re-attacked and gained thecrest. Counter-attacks were beaten offalong the entire sector, and also in thesector of the 1st Ranger force aboveVenafro. This opened the way forlarge-scale attacks into San Pietro andon to Cassino. In late December, the 83rd wasrelieved and assembled with theRangers in the vicinity of Pozzuoli.

Memories of Tough Mountain Fighting

We felt like mules hauling our heavy mortar carts up these rocky slopes.


Reports of TwoLST-422 Survivors

Dan Miller —

Clark Riddle’s description of how hesurvived the LST-422 ordeal in the lastMuzzleblasts, brought back a lot ofmemories. We boarded the ship inNaples harbor on January 25, 1944. During the night, enroute to Anzio, allof us members of Company D werebelow deck, some just shooting thebreeze, others reclining or sleeping.We had been issued waist-type lifepreservers, the kind you squeeze toinflate. Sometime during the darkness ofearly morning January 26, I wasawakened and startled by a loudexplosion. The lights flickered andwent off, and there was a strong smellof gasoline fumes and cordite.Everyone below deck startedscrambling up the stairs to the deckabove to see what was going on. Therewas chaos everywhere but little panicas I recall.I grabbed my life preserver, put itaround my waist and went up ondeck. I could see flames everywhere.White phosphorus and high explosiveshells were exploding all over thedeck.I squeezed my life preserver to inflateit, and it came off my waist and fell tomy feet. I picked it up and saw thatthe metal snap on the buckle hadbroken in two. Without a buckle, Icouldn’t keep the preserver aroundmy waist, even though it was inflated.Everyone was trying to get off theship, jumping into the water to getaway from the fire and explodingshells. I gave my life preserver tosomeone who was ready to go into thewater, and asked him to hold it for meuntil I could climb down the ship’sanchor chain and get it from him. Ithought if I could hold onto thepreserver in the water I could stayafloat. I had taken off my shoes ready

to go into the water. After theindividual I gave my life preserver towent into the water, I lost track of himbecause of the rough water and highwaves. Since I had no way of getting alife preserver, I had no alternativeexcept to stay on the ship. There were others who also had notyet gone into the water including twoor three British sailors who were crewmembers. We all got down behind ametal shield surrounding an anti-aircraft gun to protect ourselves fromwhite phosphorus and shrapnel fromexploding shells. The British sailorshad flashlights and were signalingother ships for help. By this time I had resigned myself tothe fact that I might die, and was justwaiting for the ship to blow up in afinal explosion and go under. I don’tremember specifically, but I think Iwas also praying for something tosomehow save us.After what seemed an eternity,another ship made its way over toours and pulled alongside, allowingus to jump from the burning LST. I could see people everywhere in thewater being tossed around by thewaves. Many were dead, floating facedown in the water. Others werestruggling. Some of the sailors on the rescue shipjumped into the water to save severalwho were too weak and too exhaustedto help themselves. Those sailorsrisked their own lives to save menthey had never seen before. It wassimply amazing. I don’t know if theiractions were ever recognized, but fewwould do what they unhesitatinglydid themselves. For me, the miracle in all this is that ifmy life preserver buckle had notbroken at the time it did, I most surelywould have been among those whodied in the water that early morning.Our rescue ship offloaded us at theAnzio dock which immediately cameunder attack by German divebombers. We, the rescued, spent the

rest of the day and night taking coverfrom German planes and shelling. When we left Anzio to go back toPozzuoli, we passed the hull of LST-422 bobbing in the water. Onlythe prow was above the water line. Rudolph Whitt —

We departed Naples on January 25th.As a member of Company C, I hadboarded alphabetically with all the“W’s”. Coming so near to the end ofthe line meant that there were no lifebelts for those of us in this group. Theship was crowded and we settled in,looking for places to sleep. In myexploring, I happened upon a safetybelt hanging in a cranny on a hook.Instinctively, I took it and fastened itaround my waist.We were off the coast of Anzio, withthe weather deteriorating as I slept. I was abruptly awakened by a loudexplosion, and realized the ship wasafire. Flames were fueled by all thegasoline and ammunition aboard. The heat was intense and continuedexplosions were deafening. My handswere burned. People were shouting,and those around me were jumpingoverboard. By mouth, I blew up mylife belt that I had found earlier(thinking that I might need to save theair cartridge for later), and jumpedinto the Mediterranean’s frigidwaters.I became unconscious at some pointfrom shock and exposure to the cold. I later learned that I had been in thewater several hours before beingpicked up by a minesweeper. My firstmemory of January 26th was wakingup with sailors covering me withwarm blankets, and one offering me adrink of whiskey. I was later taken toa hospital in Naples where I spent 21days recovering.Upon leaving the hospital, the RedCross gave me a package of clothing,several sizes too large, which Ihappily wore until I returned to myCompany and was issued a uniform.


Dog Tags Toldof Friend’s Loss

Lawrence Powell —

Our Companies “A” and “B” landedon the beach at Anzio at 0200 hours,January 22, 1944. We were happy tohave caught the Germans completelyby surprise. Encountering almost noresistance, we were quickly able tomove several miles inland with the1st, 3rd, and 4th Ranger Battalions,and the 509th Parachute Battalion,and for a brief while it looked asthough we might roll all the way toRome.But like an angry swarm of bees, theGermans soon responded stronglyand in great force. In the next weeksthey nearly succeeded in pushing usoff the Beachhead. None of us couldhave dreamed that we would bepinned down in that tight space fornearly four bloody months.At dawn on January 27th we learnedthat Companies “C” and “D” of our83rd had been aboard LST-422 thatsank two miles off Anzio. Somesurvivors were brought ashore, and Ihappened to be among those sentback to the beach to help in any waywe could.Walking along the shore, I spottedsomething glistening in the surf.Wading in a bit, I found two dog tagsattached to a chain. Tears filled myeyes when I read the name: TheodoreBeley. “Teddy” Beley of Company “C”was a boyhood friend from ourhometown of Ambridge, Penn-sylvania where we had been in schooltogether. The reality of war came veryclose to me at that moment.I remain in touch with the Beleyfamily. His brother John gave me aphoto of Teddy; and a few years agohis two sisters visited Anzio, both intribute and closure. Theodore Beley isofficially listed as Missing in Actionon January 26, 1944. His body wasnever found.

Anzio MemoriesBob Fenton —

The night of January 26, 1944, whenLST-422 sank, about forty or fiftysurvivors were gathered in a field.Major David Meyerson and I, and theweapons carrier driver took off forNettuno to get blankets from theQuartermasters supply. We loadedthem up and were going throughNettuno when a German air raid cameover. Jumping out of the truck, we raninto a garage. The house across thestreet was hit by a bomb, went into theair, and became a pile of rubble. Getting back into the weapons carrier,we drove about a hundred feet andslid into a fresh bomb crater in themiddle of the street. A British DUKWwith a winch pulled us out, and wewere finally able to deliver theblankets to the chilled survivors.We had our Battalion CP just east ofthe overpass. Every once in a whilethe Germans would lob a shell intothat area. I was coming along in myJeep with a Brit on a motorcycle justahead of me. A shell came in and hitthe bike, throwing the Brit into thefield. His body laid there for severaldays. Life and death at Anzio was amatter of inches, and survival pureluck.This is a picture of me washing clothesin the “Anzio Maytag” made by theAmmo Company.

a full open bottle. Outside their stonebarracks we encountered twoGhoums, the fierce native Algeriantroops who fought under the Frenchflag. These were the famous fighterswho later terrified Germans at MonteCassino when, patrolling alone atnight, they cut sentries’ throats,taking their ears as souvenirs.When one gestured toward our bottlewe cheerfully gave it to them — we’dhad more than enough. They offeredto show us their sparse quarters —just a bare cement floor, and strawcovered cement shelves on whichthey slept. Outside again, dusk wassettling, and the street empty. Wewere encircled by four or five otherGhoums, smiling because the bottlewas being passed around.Ross sensed trouble before I did. Thebottle now empty, the circle tightenedaround us, and they were no longersmiling. “Stand right beside me.”Ross ordered, “Unbutton your shirt,put your right hand inside. Okay, let’sgo!” We moved to the ring whichgave way before us, with severalGhoums muttering something whichRoss later insisted meant “knives!”. Were we actually about to be jumped that evening? I’ll never knowfor sure. But as the Germans learnedat Cassino, Ghoums play by theirown rules.

(continued from page 3)Remembering Oran


Beyond Anzio andInto Rome

Andrew C. Leech —

On the morning of June 5, 1944, ourtroops poured into the Eternal City.The next morning, we loaded in amotor convoy and started movingthrough Rome. We got permission tocamp inside the Vatican that night.The next day we pulled out in searchof the retreating enemy. We were inconvoy and as we drove along thehighway, we saw many wreckedvehicles and tanks that had beenknocked out. Most of the tanks hadbeen immobilized by our bomberswhich had cleared the way orsoftened it up for us. We saw manydead along the way and large groupsof prisoners coming in. At night wewould go into position while underfire, but in the morning the enemywould be out of range again. This keptup day after day as we took town aftertown.When we had advanced about ninetyor a hundred miles above Rome wewere finally relieved along with the34th Division, the 36th, the 3rd, and45th. Fresh outfits such as the 88thand 85th took over. We moved backinto a rest area not far from Rome andwhile there, were given passes intothe city.I spent a couple of weekends in Rome.Kimbrough and I got a room in a hotelwhere the people treated us like wewere their boys. We always dividedour rations with Mom and Pop as theyhad very little to eat and in Romethere just wasn’t anything you couldbuy to eat. We found Mom hadsearched around and found some fishand some spaghetti and a small pieceof bread which was rationed eachweek. The chief drink at meals is a bottle ofvino, so it was placed on the table. Weopened our rations and helped Momfix them, so when we put it alltogether we had some good meals.

Visiting Rome By Rail

Kelso “Red” Thompson —

Having joined the 83rd at Pozzuoli,my first combat was on the Minturnofront. I was in the CommunicationsSection of Company D, with Sgt.Shirley, Harmon Roberts, John Baer,Martin Maloney, George Schmidt, andBen Samulski.I was hit at Anzio with phosphorus.The sergeants from EdgewoodArsenal knew what to do. They usedBurma-Shave on my wound.After we pushed out of the AnzioBeachhead, I was sent over hill anddale to deliver phone lines to theinfantry. One of the infantrymen stolemy rifle, which was upsetting,because snipers were everywhere. I finally found a gun and felt a littlebetter about it. When I returned towhere my Company was, they hadforgotten me, but I climbed aboard thelast Jeep heading toward Rome. Thatevening we bivouacked near the TiberRiver bridge. And that night anamusing thing happened.Captain Forrester told us to be sureand not go into Rome, as there weresnipers in the city. But some of usfound a handcar on the railroadtracks, so you can imagine whathappened. We got to playing with thehandcar and started towards Rome.When we got to a bomb crater wewould lift the handcar around it andkeep going.When we came to the switchingstation, the man there switched usstraight into the city of Rome. None ofus had a rifle. There were five of us,and I don’t remember who they were.The Italian people came fromeverywhere with fried eggs, frenchfries, and bottles of red wine. We allgot drunk. When we decided to headback to our area, I asked “Which trackdid we come on?” No one knew theanswer. By this time Italian fighters

armed with rifles joined us andpushed us off on the handcar. When we got to the switching stationthe same man was there, and switchedus back on the right track. You shouldhave seen us five drunks moving thehandcar around the bomb craters andmaking enough noise to wake thedead, when we were supposed to bevery quiet so Captain Forresterwouldn’t know that we had been toRome.The next morning at 6:00 a.m., hemade us all fall out and line up. Hesaid “I know some of you went toRome last night, and I want them tostep forward!” No one did, but all hewould have had to do was smell ourbreath. His face turned red and hesaid “Fall out!”.If any of you remember who the otherfour men were, I would like to knowtheir names.

Want to Request Missing Medals? Requests for issuance or replacementof military service records andmedals, which are provided at nocharge, can be directed to: NationalPersonnel Records Center, MedalsSection, (NRPMA-M), 9700 Page Ave.,St. Louis, MO 63132; using standardform (SF-180). Family members canalso apply. For more information go tothis web site: www.archives.gov. The “shortcut links” to go directly tothe pages you need are as follows:Military Awards and Decorationswww.tinyurl.com/mwdf

Military Recordswww.tinyurl.com/5orrr

(Note: Be prepared for long delays infilling your request!)

Join us at the 2005 Reunion!June 16 – 19, 2005

(Thursday through Sunday)Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

The Eisenhower Inn & Conference Center

800-776-8349; or 717-334-8121


Clark Riddle —

On a sunny day in Italy, 1944, we wereback in bivouac, far from the front,when Lt. Woomer decided to take thefirst platoon on a practice shoot. Weloaded our equipment and went outinto the country. After locating a gunposition we proceeded to set up whileLieutenants Woomer and Lauro wentto find an OP.Some time later, their jeep driver cameto the gun position and said“Sergeant, you’re wanted at the OP”.So I got in the jeep and went asordered.When I got there I asked what it wasall about. Lt. Lauro said they wantedme to take a shot. “Send down the firecommands and take a shot at thatmountain over there.” I said I couldn’tdo that because from the OP I didn’tknow where the gun position was,and I would have to map andcalculate the distance, even if I didknow.

They said to take a guess, just makesure you shoot far enough so youdon’t hit the houses at the base of themountain. I did exactly as I was told;I made sure I shot far enough!After sending the fire commandsdown to the gun position we waitedand waited. There was no explosionon the mountainside. Finally we

heard a loud “BOOM” in the distance.Woomer looked at Lauro and said“Let’s get out of here – we don’t knowwhere that thing landed!”Apparently I had missed themountain and shot completely over it.I was never invited back to the OPagain.The incident was forgotten until atone of our first 83rd Reunions a groupof us were in the hotel room tellingstories when Col. McEvoy remarkedthat he sure would like to know wherethe shell came from that landed in themotor pool. Nobody answered. He brought it up again at anotherReunion. As far as I know, he neverfound out. Since McEvoy had a shell he didn’tknow where it came from, and we hada shell that we didn’t know where itwent, I assume we maybe are talkingabout the same shell. What I wouldlike to know is what happened in themotor pool when the shell landed.

“Round Away!” — But How Far Away?

The Nebelwerfer “Screaming Meemies”

were terrifying.

All six barrels fired in rapidsuccession. We’d hear the howling ofthese screaming rockets comingstraight at us from the time they lefttheir launcher until they arrived – andthis seemingly took forever. PlatoonSergeant Woof-Woof Jackson said itvery well: “At Rambervillers they’dscare you to death all night long!”

Unfond Memories of Screams in the Night


First Airborne Task Force —

The book Paratroopers’ Odyssey, A History of the 517th Parachute CombatTeam, offers a gripping account ofOperation Dragoon – the SouthernFrance landing. It covers both theparachute and the glider landings inwhich our Company D of the 83rdparticipated. This story of the 517th begins in theStates with parachute training; anddescribes the 517th’s first combatexperiences north of Rome. It offers athorough account of the parachuteand glider landings, along with thefirst two days of this airborne assault.It describes the horrendous mistakesin dropping paratroopers as much as25 miles from their intended dropzone, and gliders being released ataltitudes of 2500 feet and more, ratherthan the intended 300 feet.Relative to Normandy, the SouthernFrance landing was comparativelyeasy, but the story cites glider crashes,with eleven glider pilots killed. Of the327 CG-4 gliders participating, mostwere so badly damaged by theirvirtually crash landings that only 27were later salvageable. In the first twodays before connecting with seabornetroops, the airborne suffered 9%losses, including 560 killed andmissing; plus 283 jump and gliderlanding casualties.The account describes the firepowerof 4.2 mortars during the crucial fightat Le Muy: “One thousand rounds,including a high proportion of whitephosphorous – would be fired intwenty minutes. Those who witnessedit will never forget it. For twentyminutes, fifty 4.2 rounds per minuterained down with awesome effect.Great clouds of smoke arose,punctuated by red-yellow explosiveflashes. The vineyard was almostliterally blasted from the face of theearth. It was a brutal steamroller,exactly as it had been intended. It is

hard to believe that any livingcreature could survive.”The account concludes: “Without theairborne assault, it is entirely possiblethat the Germans could have held offthe seaborne assault long enough forreserves to arrive. Dragoon mighteasily have become another strandedwhale like Anzio.”

Going to the TopJohn P. McEvoy —

While advancing rapidly up theRhone Valley with the 36th Divisionshortly after the Southern Francelanding, George Shirley, D Company’sCommunications Sergeant, had anidea. He learned that the Division hadjust been issued the new 536 hand-held FM radios, which were bothlighter and more reliable than the old609 models we'd been using. S/Sgt. Shirley wanted the 536’s, soarmed with an appropriaterequisition, he applied at theDivision’s Signal Office. He wasquickly rebuffed, and told that thesenew radios were a high priority itemreserved for only the most importantpurposes. When he persisted, Shirleywas laughingly dismissed and toldthat only the Commanding Generalcould approve such a request.That should have ended the matter,but not for Sgt. Shirley. By-passingvirtually the entire Division chain ofcommand, Shirley marched himself tothe Major General’s Command Trailer,and knocked on the door. When theGeneral asked what he wanted,Shirley explained his need, sayingthat with the 536’s, D Company'sforward observers could bettersupport the General’s infantry with4.2 mortar fire. The General listened,was impressed, and signed therequisition, telling him to come byagain if he needed anything.Shirley returned triumphantly to theDivision Signal Office, whose ribbonclerks could not believe that a lowlyStaff Sergeant would have thegumption to go over so many heads,approach the Commanding General,and come away with everything heneeded.

Southern France Airborne Landing

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His Tank DestroyerGave Me ProtectionSam Kweskin —

On a cold November day in theVosges wine country, our 83rdHeadquarters liaison officer, stocky,prematurely grey 1st Lt. WalterHauser, was on his way to visit somemortar platoons. His Jeep driverGerardo di Lucchio had me, a 20-yearold, 6' 4" Chicagoan, riding “shotgun”in the back seat, even though as theMuzzleblasts illustrator, my mostfamiliar weapon was an inky pen. Wecame upon a bullet-riddled road sign,with arrows pointing to Riquewihr,Company B’s location, on the right, orCompany D’s Zellenberg to the left.Hauser suddenly turned to me to ask,“Where do you think we should go,Kweskin?” For a moment I thoughtthe wind had done something to myhearing. But I had heard him correctly.Yet, why would a First Lieutenant askme to make a suggestion? Finally, Ibent forward to say “There are abunch of Company D guys I know inZellenberg – let’s go there first, okay,Lieutenant?” Hauser gestured hisgloved right hand to Jerry, whogunned our jeep to the left. Within afew minutes, we were driving into theancient village of Zellenberg, with itswhite-washed walls, gabled roofs andoaken cross-beamed houses.Company D’s Second Platoon had setup its mortars in the small,cobblestoned square, and were firingfuriously over the rooftops. A lonetank destroyer fired between twobuildings, then retreated after eachcouple of shots.Hauser jumped from the Jeep, and Ifollowed the Lieutenant up an antiqueflight of steps to the third floor. There,in what must have been a bedroom atone time, a number of observers stoodgazing through cracks in a venetianblind. They gave firing directions toradiomen and telephone men at theirsides, while Hauser spoke to the

officer observing for our platoon. I stood away from them, occasionallygetting my own view of three villagesto the south and east being fired upon — Beblenheim, Mittelwihr, andBennwihr. I even took a moment tosketch the activity, noticing at onepoint a firefight going on about a milefrom us. The three villages wereburning and engulfed by whitephosphorous smoke, and Germansoldiers could be seen leaving cover infront of the towns and racing awayfrom the incessant mortar and tankdestroyer fire. The noise was overwhelming, and thecacophony of the firing from the areabehind us was loosening the plasterfrom the walls of the room. Or so Ithought for that brief moment.Suddenly, a soldier appeared at thedoorway – “You guys CRAZY? TheJerries missed you by inches! Look!”He pointed to what must have beenan adjoining bedroom at one time, butno longer existed. Indeed, theGermans had wisely guessedsomeone was using this, the tallest ofbuildings in the village, as anobservation post, and their shell hadmissed us, well, by about ten feet.Close enough!We scattered downstairs and Isomehow made it to the tankdestroyer that had been pounding theGermans. Now it was in one of itsfrequent withdrawal positions, and Ihuddled behind this metal monster,hoping it might provide some safety.Hauser shouted at me to jump into theback seat, and we raced away fromthe incoming mortar rounds, and outof Zellenberg. Hauser decided toshorten our trip and return to ourStambach Headquarters for goodreason. He had just learned by radiothat Company B had been overrun onan SS graduation exercise, and hadlost a handful of men killed, andabout a half-dozen taken prisoner.That evening in Stambach, I satlistening to B Company’s Sgt. EarlRapp, as he described hiding in a

culvert in a freezing stream, asGerman soldiers ran back and forthon the road above him. Lt. HarlanReynolds had been killed by machinegun fire before he could get to thatculvert, but Bill Heelan had quicklyducked into it with Rapp. Many years have passed since that

frightening afternoon. In 1998, livingin Boca Raton, Florida, I volunteeredat an art museum, and shared workdays with another WWII veteran, Mac Altshul. Mac has been gone nowfor three years, but I remember givinghim the wartime memoir of Lee Steedle, of D Company, to read.That night, after reading it, Macphoned me saying, “Your friend Leewrites about two incorrigible T.D.soldiers – brothers – named Callahan.Can you find out from Lee where thatwas? I e-mailed the question to Lee,who said the village was Zellenberg.In turn, I called Mac, who said “Ofcourse! The Callahan brothers wereunder my command!” I went to myportfolio of drawings, and foundwritten on the sketch I made that day:“Zellenberg”. I couldn’t believe such acoincidence could exist, with the threeof us there that same day.I told Mac over breakfast the nextmorning how we had avoided visitingB Company which had been overrunthat day; how we escaped from theshelled house; and how I had hiddenbehind the tank destroyer; andthanked God that I got out of therewhole. Mac smiled and said: “You canthank me, too, Sam. That was MY tankdestroyer!”


William J. Gallagher, Jr. —

Two months before the war ended inMay, ’45, I was wounded and almostlost my right leg. I was talking withCarlos Trautman when the first 88shell came in and rained shrapnel allaround. The fragments missed us. Buta second shell came in quickly and gotme in the right leg.After the medic Neil McCarthy gaveme a morphine shot I was taken to the45th Division Aid Station. I was thenevacuated to a Paris hospital where Ideveloped dry gangrene. Good thingwe had penicillin.That Paris hospital had been takenover intact from the Germans. Amedic gave us pajama tops with JerrySwastikas on their pockets.We were then loaded onto a C47 and itwas a hell of a ride across the Channelto England, but we made it in onepiece. When the crew in Englandunloaded us they saw the PJs we werewearing and thought we wereGerman POWs. But when we began to talk they realized we wereAmerican GIs.When mail finally caught up with mein England, Dick Connolly’s letteradvised me that the 88 shell camefrom a Tiger Tank that was finallyknocked out by an Anti-Tank group ofthe 45th Division. His letter also statedthat the tank crew had all been youngboys. After being in England for over threemonths, in and out of amputee wards,they decided I would be better off inthe USA. I returned in a hospital shipand landed on Staten Island and wastransported to Camp Kilmer. Therethey sorted out the different cases anddecided where we would go. I wassent to the Greenbrier Hotel in WestVirginia, that the Army had takenover and renamed Ashford GeneralHospital. A real swanky place!

They started working on me in June ofl945 and it was hell. They took half ofmy left leg to save my right one. Theyjoined my two legs together and grewhalf of the muscle from the left leg intothe right one. I stayed in a body castfor forty-seven days. Thank God forplastic surgeons! I was released inMay, l946, almost a full year after theWar in Europe had ended. Carlos and I were discussing this atthe last 83rd reunion. He told me thatpieces of my leg had been scattered allover the ground. I didn’t know it then— the explosion and shock had putme in la-la land.

After discharge, I had to wear a bracefor one year, but it did not affect myability to work. Three weeks afterbeing discharged I went back to workfor The E. I. DuPont Company – a great organization to work for. In 1949 I married my loving wifeMarge, and had a daughter and son.In turn they both married and had ason and daughter. I retired in 1986with more than forty-one years ofservice to DuPont.

How to MakeA Strong Man Cry

Robert J. Bush —

Officers in the 83rd, while overseas,received a liquor ration from thegovernment. When I received the firstbottle at Anzio, I concluded that,under no circumstances, would thisliquor be available to any man whilewe were in combat. Then the brightidea occurred to me “I’ll save it – thisliquor will keep indefinitely andsometime in the future we’ll have aplatoon party.”I had a heavy, khaki barracks bag thatwas about two-thirds full of statesideuniforms – dress shirts, pink andgreen pants, etc. The top of this bagwas tightly sealed with a lock, forwhich only I had the key. My bag,along with all the other officers’ bags,was stored in an assigned trailer in themotor pool.About a year later when I hadreceived another liquor ration, Iheaded for the motor pool. When Icouldn’t find the officers’ trailer, Iasked about its whereabouts, and theSergeant pointed out a bigger trailerto me. I had no problem finding my bag, andno, I had not lost the key, if that’s whatyou are thinking. However when Iunlocked the bag, the most awful,mind-numbing stench hit me.In checking, I learned that the bagtransfer was done by throwing thebags to the ground, and then tossingthem into the larger trailer. The result:every one of the fourteen or fifteenbottles was broken. My clothing,soaked with whiskey, had to bedestroyed. Of course, the men in myplatoon were never told about thegreat party they missed in 1945, but allthese years later we can finally laughabout it.

Fourteen Months to Heal a Wound


Here’s Where to Find Us…Of the 158 members of the 83rdVeterans Association in our currentroster, 118 are men. Virtually all areveterans, although a few may be sonswith their veteran father’s names; andseveral are officers of the active 83rdChemical Battalion. In addition, we

have 40 family members – the widowsand children of 83rd veterans.Our list shows the Companies inwhich 75 of our veterans served. Thegreatest number – 24, are shown inCompany B; followed by CompanyA’s 19; Company C’s 17; while 4 haveidentified themselves as havingserved in Company D. A special member is Jean PierreCombe, of France, who as a youngboy, helped rescue Company Csurvivors after their position wasoverrun in Southern France.

The Golden Years By Glenn Helsel

My fingers are numbCan’t button my shirtWhen I bend overMy back starts to hurt.

Can’t read a wordWithout a large glass. A chair gives me dropsy,got lead in my ass.

Got a good memory— it’s kinder short,like forgetting my glassesand things of this sort.

I find it embarrassingI catch every eye,when entering a store —forget to zip up my fly.

Lord I know the alternative,one I don’t choose to make.If You have it in mind — I’d rather live with my ache.

Key: V=Veterans F= Families

Alabama: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-3Arizona: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-2California: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-3, F-3Connecticut: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-3, F-1Delaware: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .F-2Florida: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-9, F-3Georgia: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-5, F-2Illinois: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-4, F-1Indiana: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-2Maryland: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-4Massachusetts: . . . . . . . . . . . .V-1, F-1Minnesota: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-2Mississippi: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-8, F-4Missouri: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-1New Jersey: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-8, F-3New Mexico: . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-1, F-4New York: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-6, F-3North Carolina: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-3Ohio: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-2Oklahoma: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-1, F-1Oregon: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-1, F-1Pennsylvania: . . . . . . . . . . . .V-21, F-6Rhode Island: . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-1, F-1South Carolina: . . . . . . . . . . . .V-1, F-1Texas: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-3Utah: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-1Virginia: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-12West Virginia: . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-1, F-1Wisconsin: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .V-2, F-1

Oregon

Arizona

Utah

New Mexico

Texas

Oklahoma

California

Minnesota

Missouri

Mississippi

Alabama

Florida

Georgia

Tennessee

Wisconsin

Illinois IndianaOhio

Kentucky

New Jersey

New YorkCT RI

Mass.

Pennsylvania

Virginia

DelawareMD

North Carolina

SouthCarolina

Michigan

WestVirginia

Help Preserve Our HistoryPublished author Terry Lowry isprogressing with work on his bookabout our 83rd Chemical MortarBattalion. He will be using materialleft by his father Charles Lowry, inaddition to stories, photos andsketches some of us have beensending him. If you would like to helpTerry with this history, please contacthim: 237 Kenna Drive, SouthCharleston, WV 25309; phone 304-768-4216; or [email protected].

Illustration & Photo Credits by Page:

1, 6, 7, 8, 10 . . . . . . . . . . . Sam Kweskin2. . . . . . . . . . . . 83D Chemical Battalion3, 11, 12 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bill Steedle4 . . . . . . . . . Italian Campaign, Time-Life

Books, Robert Wallace, 19786 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bob Fenton8. . . . . . D-Day Museum, New Orleans9. . . . . . . . 517th Parachute Regimental

Combat Team Association

december 2004 we fought as the rangers’ artilleryor rocket propelled grenades (rpgs) followed...

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