Don Docken, C/275, describes his
training experiences at Camp Adair.
Camp Adair Experiences
Spring, 1944, by Don Docken, C/275
My first impression of Camp Adair in
the spring of 1944 could be summarized with two words - wet and
soggy. The poncho was our daily dress marching to and from the rifle
range. In between showers we managed to sharpen our marksmanship
with the M-1 and the BAR (Browning Automatic Rifle). Having been in
the Army Specialized Training (ASTP) for several months in a college
pre-engineering course, I needed this practice. For those who were a
little rusty with their shooting, "Maggie's Drawers", would often
wave over the target indicating a complete miss.
As the weeks went by, beautiful, clear
summer days made up for the soggy beginning. Maneuvering through the
lush valleys and hills of the Willamette River area, we found
raspberries and blackberries growing all around us. Fruit trees were
laden with apples, pears and plums. One can still remember how
pleasant it was to have a mid-morning and mid-afternoon snack off
the fruit of the land. Later, tramping through the red clay of Camp
Leonard Wood in the heat of a Missouri summer, we became rather
nostalgic about the green Oregon landscape. However, most of us
remember one drawback of the fertile countryside around Adair - the
infamous poison oak. Many of us were infected, and we became very
cautious of where we sat down to rest. Sometimes this wasn't
possible. on one night exercise, our squad set up their position in
the complete dark. In the morning we discovered that our site was in
the middle of a poison oak patch. It caused me many days of
uncomfortable itching and treatment before I came back to normal.
Our Division commander, General John
Dahlquist, had definite ideas about training a division. Coming from
battle experience overseas, he realized that infantry training must
be more realistic in order to prepare the soldier for the shock of
actual combat. As a result, our infantry companies had their first
taste of advancing behind a close artillery barrage and attacking an
objective with live ammunition. For example, the objective was the
high ground several hundred yards to the front. The company was in
position in a patch of woods waiting with trepidation for the
artillery to lay down a barrage in front of us before we advanced.
As the shells whistled overhead and exploded about 75 yards ahead,
the distance suddenly seemed much too short. It is a helpless
feeling to be dependent on the accuracy of the artillerymen on their
105mm howitzers. Soldiers always hear about short rounds. None fell
on us in our exercises, but we had some happen in actual combat in
Philippsbourg, France. However, we found out in Philippsbourg and on
Sprichern Heights that the artillery is one of the infantryman's
best friends. Well-placed and intensive fire from artillery can help
cripple tanks and disperse enemy forces.
Coming back to the Adair exercise, we
waited for the barrage to stop, and then we were up and running out
into the open ground, zigzagging up the slope. Silhouettes were
automatically raised up in front of us, and we blazed away at them
with live ammunition. Afterwards, observers examined the targets and
scored the exercise. A tired bunch of dough boys were then trucked
back to the barracks with everyone looking forward to the
possibility of a weekend pass.
The regimental combat problem seemed to
be the order of the day at Camp Adair. To give another example, we
started out late one afternoon being trucked to the beginning of our
line of march. Included in this line was a small mountain, and after
four hours of walking up and down the hills, we felt like drunken
sailors. Finally, reaching our bivouac area, we dug slit trenches,
ate K-rations, and were ready for sleep at 10:00 pm. Two hours
later, we were abruptly awakened for breakfast. Breakfast at
midnight did not go over to well with the troops. Going through the
chow line in pitch dark, accompanied by a gentle rain, was always a
mysterious adventure. You were never quite sure what they slapped
into your mess kit - it could be eggs and potatoes, pancakes, or the
legendary S.O.S.; and always with a cup of traditional "green"
coffee. After breakfast we hiked another four hours to the forward
assembly area. The last leg was a cautious walk through a trail in
the woods where the dark and the rain made it difficult to keep on
your feet. We got a little rest before daylight and then formed for
the attack. Breaking through the long, wet grass at a half-trot
produced some pretty tired and wet soldiers. After we achieved our
objective, we were trucked back to the barracks for a well-deserved
rest.
Being one of the ASTP boys called out
of the pre-engineering course at Montana State U., Bozeman, Montana,
I would often recall the flowery words that accompanied our orders
transferring us to the infantry. It went something like this: "The
Army Ground Forces needs intelligent young men to fill the depleted
ranks of the infantry so that we can finish off the enemy". After
engaging in repeated exercises in the hills of Oregon and the in
muddy red soil of Missouri, after walking your legs off on forced
marches over Coffin Butte or Prune Ridge, after enduring over and
over again the tedious inspections including the humiliating
short-arm inspections, after a few policing of the grounds for
cigarette butts, and after lugging my BAR across the fields; one
began to wonder where intelligence fitted into the picture. However,
the camaraderie was great, and in actual combat we found that
intelligence was important, but not as important as loyalty, courage
in spite of fear, and the willingness to expose yourself to enemy
fire to get the job done.
