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WW II Memories
By Kris Fresonke
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Paul S. Green
A reporter for Stars and Stripes sees the dark side of liberating France.
"As a soldier-reporter for the GI newspaper Stars and Stripes, covering the war in Europe, I accompanied U.S. troops into Grenoble, France, at the foot of the Alps, in late August 1944. We found the town in ferment, as French Resistance groups rushed through the streets rounding up French collaborators before they could escape with the retreating Wehrmacht. One group were young men who had betrayed their neighbors to the enemy. We soldiers had been told not to interfere—a French Resistance court had just sentenced them to immediate execution.
"A firing squad quickly lined up in an empty lot as a heavy rain soaked hundreds of enraged French onlookers, shaking their fists at the half-a-dozen traitors securely tied to stakes. As the commander curtly shouted his final order, his arm dropped and the rifles exploded. Six bodies slumped to the ground against the ropes.
"Many of the furious bystanders rushed forward to tear at the bloody remains, but the executioners quickly untied the bodies, tossed them into a truck and sped away. The spectators slowly scattered, roaring their approval."
Larry Gara
A draft resister remembers his call to conscience during America's "good" war.
"My most vivid memory of WWII is a judge sentencing me to three years in federal prison for openly refusing to register for the draft. Studying the history of WWI, reading about war resisters, growing up in an anti-war, democratic socialist family, and joining the Society of Friends strengthened my gut feeling that all killing is wrong, and that I had to take as strong a stand as possible against the madness of war.
"I was one of 6,000 war resisters who acted to keep alive the concept of Active Nonviolence. We believed we were fighting for freedom from war. In prison we used to work strikes to end racial segregation in the dining halls. We felt very close to our friends and relatives who had chosen to accept the draft. Our whole generation was messed up by the war, which no one called 'good' during those terrible years."
Gideon L. Lang
An Army eye doctor met German POWs-in Mississippi.
"I served as an optometrist at the Station Hospital, Camp McCain, Mississippi... We received some 500 German POWs from North African battles. They hated Miss. because it was hot and they had to pick cotton for the farmers. One POW spoke excellent English. He told me that he had refused to join the Nazi Party and was jailed—where he was drafted into the army. He said that when he saw his first American GI, he said to him, 'I surrender.'"
B.J. Oram
A navy seaman recalls the invasion of Normandy.
"I spent 31 days in the most dangerous place in the world, Omaha Beach during the Normandy invasion—trying to survive, stealing food and drink from incoming ships after our vessel was destroyed. The most vivid memory is walking along this beach, of miles of destroyed vessels and equipment, and seeing and smelling thousands of dead and dismembered bodies of young Americans. There were 13 of us left in our crew, and we were blessed. But the blood-red water and bodies was a lot for a young American, 20 years old, to carry around in his head forever. That is the price of war and conquest."
The Rev. E. Carver McGriff
A lesson about tolerance in Normandy.
"For the prior month, I had served in a machine gun squad, alongside a man I didn't like. He was Mexican. I was a sheltered Midwesterner, aged 19, and I didn't like his manner, his music, or his language.
"Outnumbered, and having fought the Germans for two days until our ammunition was expended and an attempted rescue had failed, we surrendered… Upon our surrender, the Germans marched us to the town square of Beau Cadray to be searched.
"Then an artillery barrage landed on us, blasting more than a hundred men, German and American. Dead and wounded lay everywhere. I was wounded in both legs, momentarily unconscious. When I awakened, I felt myself carried in strong arms, explosions all around us. As my rescuer placed me in a safe place alongside a building, I looked up into the face of the Mexican I had not liked. He turned and went back out, under fire, for another wounded man.
"I learned a great lesson that day."
Alfred Corti
A survivor of the sinking of the Leopoldville in 1944 writes home.
"I was asleep when there was a loud explosion, right underneath me. I must've been blown off the floor, because of all the life preservers I had under me, I could only see one, and that was about seven feet away. Water, splinters flew up the stairway in front of me, fellows were screaming, orders were being shouted, fellows were being blown in all directions in our room.… The sergeant yelled; we were set to go up on deck. It just seemed that a movie finish was in store for me.
"We had an order to move to the front of the ship. Fellows were told to jump onto the destroyer. I just prayed that I got on that British boat. I finally reached that part of the ship where I could jump, and I'll never know how, but I did it. Many guys died that way right there. About two minutes later, the destroyer pulled away, and 15 minutes later down went the Leopoldville with 764 lives."
Neal Wallace
The ordeal of a German POW camp.
"Early in January 1945, I was taken to Stalag Luft IV. Two weeks later, the Russians began their final drive on Berlin and threatened to liberate the camp. The Germans … moved us out of the camp. Thus began 'The Black Hunger Death March,' which lasted 86 days and covered some 600 miles. The March was a time of extreme hardship. That winter was the worst in 40 years. We were on starvation rations, clothing and medical supplies were utterly inadequate, and clean water and sanitary facilities were nonexistent. Hundreds suffered from malnutrition, exposure, trenchfoot, exhaustion, dysentery, tuberculosis, pneumonia, bowel obstructions, hair and body lice, and other diseases. Red Cross parcels were, of course, intercepted by the Germans. The stronger helped the weak, mainly by pulling farm wagons loaded with those too sick to walk."
Arlyne Berzak
The granddaughter of Jewish immigrants describes how the horrors of war touched her family.
"Once a week, my grandfather would go to a meeting of Jewish people in America who had family left in Eastern Europe. They gathered together to share any crumb of news that somehow reached them from behind the lines. Each week, he would come home and report to my grandmother with a sad shake of his head. This one was gone, that one was gone, and no one had heard from the others. One by one, the Germans had either shipped them off to concentration camps, or shot them. Finally, there was no longer any reason to go to the meetings. There was no one left. As young as I was, I was keenly aware and remembered the terrible sadness and despair my grandparents shared as they realized what had happened. This memory still haunts me."
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