WWII Documentary of H. M. Brown
Activation
On Tuesday, June 15, 1943, the 63rd Division was activated (to place a military unit on an active status in an assigned capacity) all we had to do now was to get the men necessary to fill the unmanned positions and procure the equipment to go with it.
For what seemed like a long while (the time period was only a little over two months from activation –Va. Brown) everything kept going at the same old speed with no additional men or equipment arriving. But I guess it takes the government a long time to get things moving.
One day, I asked Col. Mesick how he liked West Point. He said, “Brown, it was jut like going to prison, once you got in that place you couldn’t get out. If I had it to do over again and knowing what I know now, I don’t think id go.” Of course, that’s just one opinion and I never got around to asking anyone else that same question.
I also asked Mesick about some kind of bush he had planted at the entrance to his quarters. His answer, “it is some kind of rare bush which blooms only once in a lifetime.” I often wonder if it could have been one of those century plants which bloom every hundred years. At any rate, before it got around to blooming that summer, the whole outfit of us moved to Camp Van Dorn, Mississippi, near McComb.
(End of sojourn in Florida. Harrison resumes his narrative.)
Camp Van Dorn, Mississippi
Travel to Van Dorn for our outfit was by regular government issues (G.I.) – olive drab vehicles (jeeps, command cars, trucks, etc.). We arrived at Van Dorn on or about August 15, 1942.
Camp Van Dorn wasn’t just hot. It was horrid and hot. In other words, just plain hotter than hell. The only good thing about this place was that is helped to hold the earth together.
As I remember the situation, during my stench (again, one of Harrison’s malapropisms. We think it’s more descriptive than the word ‘stint’) at Camp Van Dorn, in Mississippi, there were these physical attachments to the land:
Officers’ Quarters
A place where one slept and hung his hat. It was nothing more than a partitioned barracks building with a private entrance to each room. The high-ranking officers did not live here. They lived in houses or other places. I was assigned an orderly (an enlisted man selected to perform various menial chores for an officer). I made it a point to immediately find my orderly to tell him, “You do not perform any chores for me at all unless I send for you.” That terminated his services.
Officers’ Day Room
This room was like an oversized dining room with built in bench seats around the walls. Also, there were tables, chairs, music boxes and drinks—all at your request. Here, I learned a game called cribbage. We played a two- or three-man partners type of the game. There was some financial consideration involved. On various occasions we would have sociable gatherings with some spirits to drink. This helped to relieve that cooped up feeling one gets from living on an army post.
Officers’ Mess Hall
A kitchen and eating area for officers and guests in barracks building. The kitchen was offset from the dining areas but attached. The dining room was filled with about fifteen tables seating about 10 men per table. Bench seats were at the tables. Here, at scheduled hours, were served breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Cooks and waters were enlisted personal. The expense for running the dining room were assessed on the officers. Officers were assigned seats according to rank. This meant I was seated at the last table (farthest from the kitchen). I had no complaints about this arrangement since there was always enough and of excellent quality.
This is how it worked: you arrived at the mess hall and took your seat at the table. A waiter would approach and announce the menu. You would select a portion or all the announced menu which would soon be served. If you ate all the food on our pate and wanted more, you help the plate high over your head with one arm fully extended. Upon seeing this, a waiter would return to you to take your order for more.
Here, I am reminded of a story about Virginia in the mess hall of the officers. One day, Virginia visited camp at “Open House”. It was late afternoon when we went to the mess hall for dinner. All went well up to the time when I emptied my plate and proceeded to hold it high about my head, as described above. I heard then a muffled groan and the whispered works, “What in the world are your doing?” I told her that this is the way to request more food. She said, “Well, I certainly am mortified’. As I look back on this incident, I still harbor a sense of guilt, but even at this time I wasn’t quite perfect yet.
Army Chapel
This facility was a place wherein soldiers and guests went on Sunday to get their does of nondenominational religious services. (Nondenominational because of Army regulations). The chapel was painted white and looked just like a church.
In Camp Blanding, FL our chaplain had been a priest. He was a friend, but always appeared to me as looking like he wished he were somewhere else. Didn’t we all? At any rate, one day I said to him, “Can you be of any help to me?” he said, “Yes, come by and see me sometime when you need a good drink. Ive got plenty of booze.” Well, I never did get around to see him.
The Van Dorn chaplain was a Lutheran, a little fellow smaller than i. in trying to be nice to him, I invited him to attend one of our socials at the Day Room. He came, drank too much, got mad, and never spoke to me again.
Took Virginia to the Army Chapel around Thanksgiving, 1943. All went well until the services ended. Then, she jumped up and prepared to leave. It was with a strong arm that I restrained her in place where we all stood until General McGaw exited. Then, I relaxed my grip. But that didn’t keep Virginia from fussing and fuming over the protocol. She’s got too many democratic notions for the army.
Here at Camp Van Dorn we were to receive our full complement of troops and to train them in their specialty. The General called me in and told me that he intended to hand pick the men I would get to train.
He did. I got nothing but the best of men. One of the men was a college mathematics instructor, Pvt. Hill. Many of the others had had surveying experiences. Except for one or two, I was well pleased. It sure made training easy for me. For months, all we did was survey and survey and survey. Those men could survey in their sleep and probably did.
Here I back up to explain that ever since I became a member of the outfit, I was known as Assistant S-2. This meant I was the survey and reconnaissance officer AND the assistant intelligent officer. Now, I didn’t know what all this meant, but as time passed, I was to find out.
I was proud of the survey crew and so was the General. In fact, he picked on of the survey crew to be his personal chauffeur, Pvt. Polston.
The training of these men was an eight hour a day experience, for a 6-day week for a few months. If I didn’t know how to go about doing something, I’d ask Colonel Mesick. He would clear things up for me.
In addition to my Headquarters survey crew, each battalion had its own survey crews. My crew would establish the basic control (coordinates) from which the battalion crews tied into to extend control each to its own battalion’s gun batteries. All this enable us to coordinate the fires of the entire division and to direct fire to targets which couldn’t be observed by those directing the fire.
At the headquarters building the General held staff meetings about one a week. The staff was composed of the commander of each battalion (4), and four of the Generals staff which he had selected.
The General would assume a certain situation under which the artillery would find itself and ask for staff advice. During one of these dry runs, eh called on me for advice. I don’t remember what I said, but I do remember what a battalion commander said after I sat down. He said, “General it is obvious that Lt. Brown doesn’t know what in the hell hes talking about.” The General, to my surprise, defended me and went on as though nothing had happened. What can you expect? I was a lowly lieutenant – the others were generals, coloanal, lieutenant colonels.
We had a large post. I guess it contained a hundred thousand acres, plus or minus – big enough to shoot artillery and carry-on maneuvers at the same time. We would often go on maneuver at dusk, pitch tents, go to sleep, be awakened in an hour or two and move again. Sometimes we would go through this process three or four times a night.
A little of this went a long way with me. I purposely contrived an idea all my own. The next time we go on one of those crazy maneuvers where we keep moving and getting no or very little sleep, I would put my idea into play. Well, it wasn’t long before we had another maneuver. It was dark and we stopped in a wooded area. Everyone pitched tents. I went off about 50 or 60 yards and pitched my tent. The outfit moved a few times during the night, but not me. I got a full night’s sleep. Just at daybreak, I could hear voices calling my name. I go tup and identified myself. They had been looking all over for me and the General wanted to see me. I reported to the General. He let know in very certain terms that he didn’t care where I spelt, but I was supposed to keep someone informed at all times of my whereabouts so that I would not be left behind again.
Being the least ranked officer at headquarters, I drew my share of “officer of the day” (OD) for every third weekend. I didn’t mind the job near as much as I did the heat. I drank many, many, cokes a day trying to stay cool; but, generally ended up with a coke hangover. However, I did get to visit Virginia in Natchez about twice a week and on weekends when I didn’t draw OD.
Then, along about October 1943, the Army shipped to the Division Artillery an odograph mounted on a jeep. The odograph is an instrument for drawing to scale a line on a paper picturing the path passed over by the jeep. I guess I had some practical purposes, but looking ahead, I noticed that this particular instrument did not go overseas with us. Sgt. Hill and I attended the odograph school at Ft. Sill, OK, for eleven days.
On returning to Van Dorn, at the request of Gen. McGaw we held a two-day school on the odograph for teaching the three Generals: major General Hibbs and Brigadier Generals Harris and McGaw. I got to drive Gen. Harris to demonstrate the odograph. While we were driving around, I told him that sometimes I wasn’t too sure about what I was talking about. “Don’t let it bother you,” said he, “We’re all in the same boat.” He also told me an interesting true story about an experience he had involving protocol. “Last weekend”, said he, “I visited the seaport. As I was walking along a sidewalk, a sailor passed me but didn’t salute. I stopped him and said, ‘Sailor, you’re supposed to salute general in the U.S. Army.’ He looked me over from head to toe, then he said, ‘Sir, I’m sorry you’re the first damned general ive ever seen. I didn’t know until now what one of you guys looked like.’” I was afraid to laugh very hard but think the story very funny.
Next, General McGaw came to me saying he wanted me to conduct a class, with the generals as pupils, on how to work a slide rule. I didn’t know the first thing about the slide rule, but Virginia did. When she attempted to teach me, she went into a bunch of theory about why the slide rule worked. I insisted she forget the theory and just show me how to make it work. After instructions from her, I conducted the class which instruction probably went over like a lead balloon. No one complained, though, and with that class was the end of the general’s classes.
Early in 1944 while still at Van Dorn, MS, the 63rd Division was alerted that it would be tested for combat readiness.
It wasn’t long after this notification that I was told to be ready with survey crews for a field problem. On the day picked for the examination it rained all day long, a cold, slow, steady rain. Its impossible to do accurate surveying in the rain, but we went at it and did the best we could. At the end of the day, with darkness approaching and the rain still coming down, I was called to the car of the major conducting the examination. He said to me, “lt. Brown, I realize the weather was against you so I’m going to give you all the time you need to complete the problem.” To him it seemed a generous gesture. I viewed events differently.
I replied, “Major, my men have done the best they can under the conditions. We don’t need any more time, were going in.” that ended the problem and conversation.
About forty days passes. One day, General McGaw asked me to step into his office, he had something to talk over with me. On entering his office, I saluted and stood at attention. He put me at ease and got out an 8 ½ by 14 portfolio. “Brown”, he said, “These papers are a court martial indictment against you. They refer to ‘combat ready’ field problem that the major from Army was giving you.” The general then said, “I am the only person on earth that can stop this court martial.” Whereupon, he too, all those papers, tore them in half and dropped them in his wastebasket. He then walked from behind his desk to put his right hand on my shoulder and said, “Son, please treat all ranking officers very, very carefully from now on.” I said that I would, saluted, turned, and walked out. That was a touching experience, and I know I must have spent the rest of the day half dazed.
A few days later, the general again summoned me to his office to explain to him the workings of an altimeter I was to become familiar with. This altimeter was a box about 6” x 6” x 6” with a needle that was supposed to measure atmospheric pressure and indicate variations in elevation to within one foot of accuracy. I never could get that thing to work out.
In I went to the general’s office carrying the altimeter with me. I placed the altimeter on his desk and tried to explain how it worked. It soon came to him that I didn’t know much about it. So, in a voice louder than normal, the general made some derogatory statements. The colonel told the general that I knew more about that damned instrument than anyone. It was getting rough in there so the general asked me to leave, and I did.
The colonel was my friend going back to my 7th Field Artillery Observation days. What happened in that office that day, I don’t know. I do know that the colonel had stuck his neck out for me and had saved my hide. Another reprieve for old H. M. B…
The drilling of the troops in training reminds me of a story which may not be a part of this narrative, but which is so interesting I must tell it:
My Grandfather Margerum served in the Civil War. He told me that recruits of that era didn’t have much education. When it came to marching canting the familiar “Left foot, Right foot, left…” would not be understood. Then was developed that “hay foot” (left), “straw foot” (right) cant to keep the troops marching in cadence. According to Grandfather, this worked …
