Chapter 11 - GOING HOME!
After two or three days at the aluminum factory, U.S. Army trucks took us to an abandoned Luftwaffe airfield. I am not sure but I believe it was northeast of Branau a few miles. This airfield had a treasure of dozens of almost every type of aircraft the Luftwaffe had. A few of the aircraft had been deliberately burned and destroyed. Most of them were intact and appeared flyable. There were FW-190s, Me-109s, Heinkle 111 K twin engine bombers and Ju-88s, a twin engine fighter/bomber. There was even one four engine Focke-Wolf 200k transport used to scout the Atlantic for allied convoys. It flew regularly from St. Nazaire, France all the way around the British Isles to Norway.
I was in awe of all the aircraft there. I tried to take an instrument out of a Ju-88 but all I had was my dog tag for a screw driver and I couldn’t budge the screws. I sat in an Me-109 and looked at those ugly, sinister black crosses on the wings with revulsion. I wondered how many German pilots had looked through the gun sight at American B-17s. Removing the cowling we found the machine guns were well oiled. The only problem seemed to be there was no fuel in these aircraft. I was only a buck Sergeant but I wished I had the authority to secure all of these aircraft and ship them back to the States to save for all of the war movies to come. Had I been a General, I would have done it. We spent one night in an unfurnished barracks sleeping on the hard wooden floor. The next day we were told that C-47s were coming to take us out. That afternoon, here they came! They came by the dozens. What a beautiful sight!
We flew at a fairly low altitude and passed over Stuttgart. What a scene of desolation. There was nothing but ruins for miles. The only thing standing were the walls of roofless, ruined buildings. It was a skeleton of a large city. What a beating it took. After about two hours we landed at an airfield somewhere in northwestern France. We boarded large open semi-trailers for the ride to Camp Luck Strike near Fecamp, France. Now we were in GI tents again, new clothes, regular meals. We skipped the boiled potatoes. As luck would have it, Lt. Wally Cooke was there! It was the first time I had seen him since the night in Molln when we were shot down. It was then I was shocked to learn that Lt. Braum did not survive the war. He only had a broken leg. How does one die from that? We also learned that our co-pilot, Andy Franko did not survive. What a shock! “Red” Hall was the only other member of our regular crew that I remember being at Lucky Strike.
[ See information in Chapter 7 ref Lt. Braum.]
In a few days we boarded the trucks again. The rumor was that we were going to LeHavre to board a ship for home. What a great day! Finally, we disembarked from the trucks in a wooded area high above the town. One of the guys joked to his buddy, “Leroy, there hasn’t been a boat up here for years”. We stayed one night in this area. The next day we were transported down to the harbor. There was a big, beautiful gray two-stacked troop ship. It was the General Gordon. (I believe named after the southern civil war general John B. Gordon.) Up the gang plank as our names were checked and down into the troop hold. Bunks were stacked about six deep. There was not room enough to lie on one’s side. Later that day we were on our way home. We joined a convoy of Liberty ships to New York. The Atlantic was rough enough that the swells pitched the empty Libertys so that their propellers came out of the water. The convoy was maintained because there was no certainty all of the German submarines had gotten the word the war was over. Lying in my bunk I was startled by a loud boom. Found out it was the stern mounted five inch gun crew practicing. The PA system played music I had not heard before: the Andrews Sisters singing “Rum and Coca Cola” and someone singing “I’m Beginning to See the Light”.
[ I discovered that there is a Wikipedia listing for the General Gordon - General Gordon - Wikipedia After delivering my Dad to NY, the General Gordon went on to a long and varied career.]
On the third day a rumor swept the ship that we were leaving the convoy for Trinidad. I didn’t want to go to Trinidad. I had already been to Trinidad on our way overseas. Sure enough, the next day we turned away from the convoy and headed for Trinidad. Now instead of six days to New York, when would we get home? The redeeming event was leaning on the rail on the moonlit nights on the warm tropical waters only to have my reverie spoiled by turning around and looking at all the other dog faces with the same thoughts.
We arrived in Trinidad harbor in late afternoon. A band played on the dock. We were not allowed off the ship. A refueling barge came along side, very low in the water, its deck almost awash. The hold of the ship was too hot for sleeping. I spent the night trying to sleep on the steel deck in the tropic air. Cargo was unloaded all night. The next morning, the refueling barge was sitting much higher in the water. We departed the harbor and finally we headed for New York. Two days later we arrived after a total of seventeen days on the General Gordon.
What a fabulous sight. The Statue of Liberty! A yacht came along side. On board was a dance band and girls dancing on the deck waving and welcoming us. All of us ran to the rail for a better look. The yacht moved to the other side of the General Gordon as we proceeded up the Hudson River. All of us ran to the other rail. I never saw such a big ship lean so much as all of us moved from side to side. Standing by two officers as we cruised by lower Manhattan I heard one say to other as they looked at the tall buildings: “Boy, couldn’t we make a mess out of that with some 500 pounders?” I don’t know just where we docked on Manhattan’s mid-town west side. As our ship moved into the dock there were several newsreel movie cameras. We stood and looked at New York in silence. The movie camera crews waved wildly. We waved wildly for a few seconds and lapsed into silence. Again, the camera crews waved wildly, again we waved wildly a few seconds and again lapsed into silence.
After we disembarked we boarded a ferry to cross the Hudson to Weehauwken, New Jersey. By train to Camp Shanks just across the new Jersey state line in New York state. Here we were met in a base theater by an officer who announced that no longer were thirty day furloughs given. BOO! From now on they are sixty day furloughs! HOORAY! We went to the messhall for good American steaks only to be served by well-fed German prisoners. We were disgusted at how they were treated and fed compared to what the Germans did to us. The Germans were anxious and asked many questions about their homeland. We took great joy in telling them the whole dam thing was Kaput! There wasn’t one brick or stone left on top of another. The whole country was flattened.
Some of us had a pass to New York City and a ration coupon for a pair of civilian shoes. We went into a restaurant. The waitress apologized and said that she was sorry that it was a meatless day and all they had was chicken. Hah! Hah! Hah! We really laughed at that. What thing to say to ex-prisoners of war who hadn’t eaten chicken in years and as hungry as we had been. We told her to bring it on.
Shortly, I was on a train from Camp Shanks to Ft. Sheridan, north of Chicago. At that place we would be given our eagerly awaited sixty day leave to go home. At Ft. Sheridan there were a number of trainees who were going to the Pacific since that war was still on. We chided those guys by yelling at them they were going over to get the Emperor’s white horse. I was glad I was not going overseas again. Leave orders in hand, I went into Chicago to the station serving the Grand Trunk Railway. A train left for Lansing about midnight. I was so happy to be on board. By early daylight, the train stopped at the Grand Trunk station on South Washington Avenue in Lansing. My Mother, sister and brother were there to meet me. We drove home to 1806 Herbert Street. I sat in the familiar living room on that sunny June summer morning. Unbelievable! I was home!
