An Un-Anticipated Adventure
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FORT CUSTER TO NORMANDY – AND BEYOND
It all started on August 4, 1943. It was my birthday and the President was kind enough to send his ‘greetings’, "A group of your neighbors and friends have selected you---". Until that message from the President arrived, I did not know that I had any friends on the local draft board. Two weeks later, on the 19th, I reported to the Induction Center for my physical exam. Those doctors saw more of me in one afternoon than I saw of myself all during the 25 years of my civilian life. They looked me over once, twice and on the third try I was out of civies and into Army life. Needless to say, induction into the military was an unanticipated event since I was married and the father of a daughter born the previous June, had left my position as book keeper for a Cadillac auto agency to enter government service as a cost accountant for the Sixth Service Command and had been classified as 4F by my draft board. None of these things seemed to matter as my classification was changed to 1A, Limited Service, after I made a couple of cost saving suggestions on reports to the commander of the Service Command. So, on the 8th of September, I reported to the reception center at Fort Custer and what a reception they had for me – I got needles, clothes, mess gear, tent, etc. Everything was stuffed into two canvas bags except the needles they put in ME!
While we were reeling around in a mental fog, they read us the Articles of War, showed us a sex movie and then gave us the I.Q. test. This group of draftees like most such groups, represented a cross section of male population of draft age. Thus, there were high school graduates and drop-outs, professional people and day laborers, gifted and dull and all of the graduations between. Some seriously marked the test. Some just copied from others.
After the exams, we were sent to Classification where the inductees were to be placed in the proper military occupations based on education, training, experience, aptitude and personal preference. I was told that based on the intelligence test, I was eligible for O.C.S. (Officer Candidate School where the graduates become 2nd lieutenants as well as gentlemen). Obviously I was on my way to becoming a commissioned officer with the promise of a distinguished career in the military. My hat size increased from a normal 1-1/4 to at least 11 instantly. Of course there was one minor technicality that had to be dealt with before becoming an officer and gentleman. That technicality was known as "BASIC TRAINING" and covered a multitude of subjects required for conversion from pampered civilian to uniformed fighting man but I was on my way.
On the 13th of September, I was "bingoed" to Camp McCoy, Wisconsin for a 5 week Limited Service Basic Training. Oh, I forgot to say that because of my eyesight without optical correction I automatically qualified for what was then known as "Limited Service". On the 27th of September, the doctor looked at my feet and said, "You’d make a good M.P.". On the 29th I was back at Ft. Custer ready for the worst and I was not disappointed – it was the worst. We were formed into an M.P.E.G. Co. which is the same as being 4F in a 4F outfit.
For eight weeks we sat on wet round listening to lectures read from an Army field manual, creeping and crawling through snow and firing on the rifle range.
I’ll never forget that range! You could miss the target completely and the scorer would chalk up a bulls eye! One lad didn’t even come to the range and he was qualified with a score of 156. I later found that the reason for that was to make our Company look good so our C.O. could get overseas. I’ll also never forget the day the C.O. told us we were alerted for "overseas". We were in the mess hall just before chow. He took the center of the floor and, with a fanatical gleam in his eye said, "MEN, THIS IS IT". Then he went on to tell us that because of our good showing, we were selected in preference to other outfits. Boy! those other guys must have been pretty lousy! We were to keep everything secret and not even tell our families about it. Our Second Lieutenants wife must have been psychic for he told us that she knew about it before he did. That was a laugh.
We left Ft. Custer on a rainy January 6th morning and arrived at our destination on the afternoon of the 8th. The move was made via troop train over the New York Central’s "Water Level Route" which crossed into Canada at Windsor, Ontario and returned to the U.S. near Buffalo, New York. The train was made up of the old Pullman cars with a baggage car in the middle of the string to serve as a kitchen car for the two-day trip and was pulled by a coal fired steam locomotive. When traveling through the tunnel between Detroit and Windsor and the 4.75 mile Hoosac tunnel under the Berkshire Mountains, electric locomotives moved the train while the steam engine’s fires were banked to reduce the threat of pollution while in the tunnels. It was generally accepted that we would trudge directly from the train to a waiting ship. When we finally arrived at our destination, it was with surprise that we found ourselves to be in a sandy, scrub pine forest land. Warehouses and one story barracks buildings comprised the camp. It was a desolate looking place that provided housing for troops moving through the port of embarkation at Boston. This was Camp Myles Standish near Taunton, Massachusetts.
Once again we were inspected and re-inspected and given enough "shots" to make us wish we were dead. As soon as we recovered, the Captain found work for us to do. We pulled stockade guard. We stood in front of a warm deep well pump house for eight hours at a crack in that frigid climate and if one were caught inside, it meant six months in the stockade. An electrically charged fence would have been cheaper and more effective. One of the "tough" guys in our gang almost kissed me when I relieved him one morning. Standing out in the dark and cold had scared him silly!
On February 1, we moved to Ft. Devens, a beautiful place where, in addition to the usual drilling and hiking, we were assigned to town patrol in Ayr, Lowell and other surrounding communities. The café owners in those towns always fed the M.P.’s when they were on duty. All in all, it was a good deal and the boys took advantage of the medical and dental facilities on the post. It was at Devens that I got to see and hear Paul Whiteman, John Garfield, etc. in the "Soldiers Show" conference that lasted four days.
Early in the morning of February 13, 1944 we left Devens and traveled by rail to Halifax, Nova Scotia. We arrived at the port the next day, Valentines Day, and immediately went aboard our ship the famed Ile de France. We were told to put our bags in the bottom of the ship – deck E. Then we joined the bags! I was seasick a day before the ship left the dock! Our crossing of the Atlantic took seven days and I spent four of them in the ship’s hospital. Once we had to seam a full day off course because some ass opened a porthole after dark when the ship was sailing under blackout conditions. It was feared that an enemy sub was lurking in the vicinity and the extra day on the North Atlantic in February was not just an extension of a pleasure cruise.
On the twenty first day of February we sent ashore in the beautiful little village of Greenock, Scotland on the Firth-of-Clyde near Glasgow. From there we were moved by train southward
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About the Book
Among all of the accounts of World War II that I have read, I have not found one that told of the experiences of a young husband and father who, in spite of a classification of 4F (unsuited for military service), found himself in Army uniform and under enemy fire as he landed on the invasion beaches of Normandy. Although this is my personal story, it is told with humor and honesty, without heroes or majestic sweeps of the "big story." The intent has been to tell of the seldom-reported wartime duty of guarding, protecting, and moving prisoners of war from the battlefront. My outfit, the 595th Military Police Escort Guard Company, consisting of 125 men, built a most impressive record during twelve months of combat zone activity. The unit handled 426,641 prisoners of war, earned five battle stars, and was awarded the French "Croix de Guerro with Palm" by a grateful French government. Quite a testimonial to the abilities of American G.I.’s even though they were supposedly (as they put it) "4F’s in a 4F outfit." More than the combat experience, the story attempts to create a feeling for the times, the draft and classification of personnel, induction and basic training. It gives indication of the individual circumstances that shape the civilian’s situation in the military. I have also tired to tell of personal contacts with the British, French and Belgian people and both the German soldier and the German civilian. It is a "G" rated story told in an easy conversational style.
About the Author
Gene Engel is a retired accountant, sales manager, manufacturing plant manager, and gentleman farmer. He has spent the past half-century in contemplation of his enforced conversion from civilian to soldier and the powerful physical and emotional forces acting upon him as he served in this country, Great Britain, and the continent of Europe. In this account, he uses a degree of humor to tell of a difficult time. The concern of Gene Engel for others is a subtle undertone of his story.