Homeward Bound
by Fillmore Cannon, I/275
In late April 1945 I read in the "Stars
& Stripes" about a new point system for rotating men back for R&R. I
didn't realize how it affected me though, having been overseas twice
before joining the 70th Infantry Division in late fall 1944.
I was blown away when I was notified that I was to be shipped
back to the USA! I felt like I had
hit the Irish Sweepstakes (as there were no lotteries that I knew of
at that time). I could not have been happier, although I hated to
leave the good men in my platoon that I had grown to love. We had
truly become a "Band of Brothers".
It happened so suddenly that there was little time to get my act
together. I know that I was the only officer with the few enlisted
men that were trucked to the Third Army
Replacement Center in Nuremberg on May 6, 1945. We were billeted in
a former German barracks. I recall that we were very close to and
almost surrounded by trees, where we were told that approximately
5,000 replacements were in their pup tents waiting to be shipped to
the front lines. I was happy for them knowing that the war was over.
They no doubt had been issued live ammunition in preparation for
impending action.
I had chosen a top- bunk in our barracks that night when the news
leaked down to the recruits that the next day was VE-Day. They began
firing their rifles! Can you imagine what
5,000 rifles sound like? I sure couldn't. I had one overpowering
urge to get out of my sack and dig a foxhole somewhere. I had
survived 90 some days of offensive combat, without a scratch; and
now, if I were to be shot in my bunk it
would be the worst of luck. I survived the concentration of rifle
fire though, so my good fortune must have been intact.
T he next morning I took a walk and to my surprise found the
Nuremberg Stadium where the newsreels had shown Hitler haranguing
multitudes ad nauseam. There was a small crowd of soldiers milling
around an ambulance. One of the soldiers told me that they were
Engineers and that they had just set off a charge to destroy the
giant, bronze, swastika-holding eagle that was over the podium, and
that a big piece of it had hit their Captain and broken his leg. It
was as if Hitler, may his soul burn in Hell forever, had the last
laugh.
Soon we were trucked to the railroad station in Nuremberg where a
cute little engine and boxcars was already loaded with GIs in
multiple forms of disarray. I thought, "If George Patton could see
this we would never get home."
There were about 15 officers in the first box car, one of which
was a Captain Greenwall from the 70th. I don't know how he got
there. If memory serves me right he was on an emergency leave.
There were about a half a dozen bales of hay in our boxcar
and I know I had one blanket and everything else was in my
musette bag. Luckily, there were plenty of "Ten-in-Ones" for the
long trip.
Finally the little engine gave a blast with its whistle and we
were off. By this time we were feeling no pain. Most of us had an
adequate supply of hard spirits that we had liberated one way
another... and we were going home!
We hadn't gone far until we slowed down and came to a halt, and
then began to back up. We thought maybe the trip was can
celed and we were not going after all.
We backed to the station and about a hundred yards beyond. Then
it started again ... full steam through the station and soon
starting up the steep hill. We got almost to the top and stalled
again. We realized then what the problem was.
"The little train that couldn't" had to back up again through the
station and beyond. Then back through the
station highballing it and getting almost to the top again.
This time we didn't wait for it to stall. Just as if on command
we all piled off at once and pushed it over the top. "Whoopee!" We
were on our way again.
can't describe the feeling I had. I It was one of the happiest
times of my life. We made frequent stops and everywhere the
Frauleins were wishing us well and "auf Wiedersehen." They screamed
in delight when we tossed some of the Ten-in-Ones to them.
The weather couldn't have been better. We broke open the hay
bales and the one blanket was enough. The little engine that could
chugged through the night; and we slept like babies.
At one station where we stopped, there was a crowed of GIs who
were liberated POWs. One of them I recognized as Captain Smead who
had been captured with his whole company at Philippsbourg.
I asked him if Lieutenant Spaulding was there also. He said that
Spaulding was OK but wasn't in his group. I was of course glad to
hear that. Spaulding and his platoon were captured at Lixing-les-Rouhling
on the 7th of February when I was "I" Company Commander. (That was
the worst day of my life, but that's another story.)
When we got into Thionville, we were transferred into a train
with third class compartments. I was assigned to one compartment
with four Captains.
The ranking Captain said, "I'm gonna' sleep on this bench."
The next Captain said, "I'll take the other bench."
The other two said, "We'll have to sleep on the floor side by
side. Where are you gonna' sleep, Lieutenant Cannon?"
It was obvious that there was no other place but the baggage
rack, which was a plank approximately 14 inches wide with a
curved metal support in the middle. This was a little uncomfortable
(it cut into my side when I was on my back.) I could hook my left
arm around the upright post that the metal support was fastened to.
This I hoped would keep me from falling if I should happen to roll
over.
The four Captains griped and protested mightily for fear that I
would fall on them. What could I do? I slept the sleep that all of
us had earned. That is, we could sleep on a cannon ball if we had
to.
I don't know how many nights I spent in the baggage rack, but the
next time we unloaded we had quite a hike up a very high hill to a
beautiful chateau where we would spend at least a week. These were
the best quarters we had seen since leaving the US. I inquired whose
it was and what it was called, but no one knew any more than I did.
T he mess area was a huge space with about a 20-foot ceiling. It
had a pair of glass pocket doors facing south, so it was the first
time I had ever seen an example of solar heating.
The statuary in the surrounding grounds had been vandalized. I
made a watercolor sketch as soon as I could. It wasn't until some
years after the war when I was reading a
"Holiday" magazine, that I found a photo of the same chateau, made
from the same spot that I had sketched it!
It was the home of Guy DeNausant whose short stories I had enjoyed
when I first began enjoying literature.
A short walk from the chateau, I could see LeHavre Harbor with
the ships that had been scuttled to mark the channel for the
invasion on D-Day. We had been told the Benedictine distillery was
there and that the monks would give us a bottle if we visited them.
We didn't have much trouble finding it. We could smell it blocks
away. The free bottle turned out to be a mini bottle of B&B, just
about two ounces, enough to make you want to go out and buy a full
bottle somewhere else.
I was doing another watercolor on the beach at Entreau where all
of the impressionist artists had painted the peculiar formation of
land making a natural bridge out into the sea. I had barely finished
when someone came and told me we were shipping out.
We had expected to get on a transport ship or possibly even be
flown back, but we soon learned that the liberated POWs were being
given priority. Rather than having us wait any longer we were put
back on the third class coaches and proceeded all the way across
France to Marseille.
By this time, the fifteen officers who first started out in the
40&8s had bonded into a strange mix. We had gotten to know each
other so well; it was like one big happy family. We told jokes and
sang a lot. One favorite song was "I Ain't Gonna' Study War No
More."
The trip across France became more scenic every day. When we got
to Marseille I don't remember whether we stayed at Camp Lucky Strike
or not. There was no mud there if we did. We had one night of leave
there and were trucked to the harbor the
next day, where we boarded a Liberty Ship.
We were soon greeted by the Captain. He told us how happy he was
to be carrying American soldiers. He had ferried German POWs several
times and had even made the run to Murmansk in the North Sea once or
twice. The officers' quarters were as comfortable as could be
expected on a transport ship and less crowded than those on the SS
West Point.
A few days later, another Lieutenant and I had the honor of being
invited to the Captain's quarters. He told us that he had been a
sailor all his life having first shipped out as a cabin boy on a
coal ship to Japan when he was 12 years old. He also told us that he
had come out of retirement to command the ship.
He asked if we had any souvenirs. I happened to have some SS
dress armbands that I had acquired somewhere. I was surprised
how delighted he was with one. He then presented me his black hat
with the scrambled eggs on it. On the reverse he had attached a note
that read, "SS James Hoband Homeward Bound May 1945 Captain P.
Gnomon." I still have that hat.
I don't remember how long it took in crossing, but it was
certainly a luxury compared to other trips I had made (one to Hawaii
and back and one to Panama and back). The Captain even had canvas
cots set on the deck if we wanted to sun bathe.
I'll never forget how irritated he I
was with the gun crew when we were nearing New York. I had no idea
why they were stringing the rigging with colorful flags. When we
passed the narrows and came into the harbor I found out.
Every fireboat in New York was sounding
off and pumping fountains of water into the air. Somewhere we got a
21-gun salute. Our little Liberty was carrying the first men from
the US Army to return home after cessation of hostilities in Europe.
Even after we disembarked and got on a train there were crowds
cheering and waiving flags.
We were processed at Camp Kilmer, New Jersey and that night we
were greeted by a band and a host of beautiful girls to dance with.
Some of the men's wives were there too.
The Army didn't waste any time. They issued our travel orders the
next day.
The parting was sweet sorrow for the 15 of us. We shook hands,
hugged and swore to keep in touch and went our separate ways.
WE WERE HOME AGAIN!!
