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Sergeant Charles "Ray" Reeder - Recon Company/33d Armored Regiment
So, on Monday December 8, 1941, the day after Pearl Harbor a group of us from my town of Anderson, Indiana reported to the induction center at Fort Ben Harrison, Indiana. Needless to say only one man failed the physical. He got tears in his eyes after being told he failed. He was a slender young fellow who really did not look like one who would fit in any slot in the service. He later was given a medal for outstanding heroism in the Navy. After the embarrassment of running around with just a towel around our waists, bending over for the hemorrhoid check, and our first short arm inspection of milking our private part to show absence of venereal disease we were sent home after being told we would receive orders later. I received orders to report on February 2d, 1942 and was sent to Fort Knox, Kentucky for basic training for the armored forces. Basic was not as bad as the weather was. A cold, wet time is not pleasant regardless of where you are. My memories of basic are cold wet weather out on the countryside of Kentucky, my first G.I. haircut and my first experience with military discipline chickenshit. We were on the exercise yard in the February cold and with feet like ice cubes, I asked the sergeant if we could run in place to warm our feet. He pointed to a distant telephone pole and one nearby and ordered me to run double time between the poles until he ordered otherwise. He then dismissed the remainder of the platoon and from a warm vantage point watched me run for about a half hour before he came out and relieve me from punishment. That taught me to keep my mouth shut in the future. At the end of basic I was offered a chance to go to the Gunnery Instructors School or Tank Mechanic School. The officer addressing the candidates stated that those completing the course would be gunnery instructors, not gunners. I tried for a good grade for the course and got it. When the schooling ended, I was assigned to the 3d Armored Division in Camp Polk, Louisiana where I learned that what you are told will happen in the army, will many times turns out otherwise.
Camp Polk, Louisiana On reporting to headquarters at Camp Polk, I was asked which I preferred , a cannon or a machinegun, I replied a machinegun and was immediately assigned to Recon. Company as a .50 caliber machine gunner. That ended a career as gunnery instructor before it ever got started. After reporting to the Company, I was issued a canteen, a mess kit, a blanket , a shelter-half and told that a training exercise was to start that afternoon in the semi-swamp lands of Louisiana. I was assigned to the rear seat of a "peep" as a .50 caliber gunner with a 2x4 timber in the shape of a "T" designated a the "gun". There was a hell of a lot designating going on in those days. Vehicles with fence posts or poles were designated as light tanks, medium tanks, and tank destroyers. The larger the pole the higher caliber gun it represented. The weapons we did have were used mainly for training the assembly, disassembly and simulated firing of. After a few weeks in the boggy lands of Louisiana, during which time our main training seemed to be how to dig and drag vehicles out of knee deep mud while fighting insects and snakes, we returned to Camp Polk barracks.
Training in the Mojave Desert of California
The 3d Armored was made up of men from all parts if the country. There were New Englanders from Maine and Indian and Mexican descendants from southern California, from New York City, Brooklyn, Chicago and other cities across the country. We had them from ballet dancers to coal miners. This added interest to being a part of the Division and I cannot remember any friction among the men resulting from where they came.
Camp Pickett, Camp Indiantown Gap, Camp Kilmer, and Embarkation to England The 100 plus degree heat of the desert was not as hard to take as one would think . The purpose of desert maneuvers was to prepare us for the African campaign and at the end of the maneuvers the Division loaded up on freight trains and headed for Camp Pickett, Virginia. The rumors had it that we were to ship out of the Norfolk Harbor to take part in the African campaign. We spent a few miserable months there near Norfolk, Virginia awaiting the trip to Africa. The Division wasn't needed there so we were sent to Indiantown Gap Camp for training on the firing ranges. At the Gap we went through live ammo barbed wire obstacle course, 25 mile road marches, etc. From there, 3 day passes gave me enough time to get home several times for a couple of welcome days. The firing ranges, long road marches, live-rounds obstacle courses and near by cities make the Gap a fond memory of an interesting time. After the Gap came a trip to Camp Kilmer, New Jersey, the embarkation point. This was interesting only because we were ordered to remove all patches, vehicle markings and anything that would identify our unit. This we did and a few days later marched from the trains to the docks in broad daylight with a band playing to make us feel patriotic. Immediately on reaching England we were told to sew on the patches and repaint the unit ID on the vehicles. So much for keeping the enemy in the dark. Our troop ship was the former SS America , newly named the John Erickson, a passenger liner before the war. There were five decks of troops counting the one in the hold and the one on deck. There was a shuttle arrangement where as the troops on deck were rotated every so many hours to below deck quarters. My company was very lucky to be chosen to serve as order keeping guards on stairways, doorways, the galley area and other points of the ship. This duty earned us a permanent bunk area 2 decks above the water line. The ship was crowded with so many troops that a great many troops had to spend several hours on the deck before being relieved and fresh troops from below decks were assigned to the decks. It was a trying time for many because of that shuttle system. One trooper got so fed up with lugging his barracks bag around that he threw it overboard and was courts martial for destroying government property. A prominent and memorable feature of the ship was the numerous open topped 50 gallon barrels for the use of seasick soldiers and as trash containers. Seasickness hit a large percentage of us. I was fortunate in that the constant motion of the ship did not bother me enough to make me sick. The crossing took eleven days because the convoy could only move as fast as the slowest ship. That was at a time when the U-boats were a big danger and crossing in convoys was a defense against them. That was a memorable trip. being on the sea is unforgettable especially when you can see many ships traveling around you in any direction you look. As a troop ship our position was in the middle of the convoy.
England and days before Normandy
One humorous area of army activity occurred soon after we arrived at the site. The buildings we were in were on low ground with small hills surrounding them. Well, we had a visitor who was welcomed by many of us. On the peak of a hill behind our barracks sat an English cow shed made by stacking bales of straw to form a hut so she got the name "Hay Stack Annie" when she came to visit. When word got around of her profession it was amusing to see the guys silhouetted against the sky line about sun down. We thought Annie must have done quite well before the brass closed her place of business down. As time neared for the invasion we went through the process of preparing our vehicles to run even if submerged in about 6 ft. of water. It was a busy time for us. General Eisenhower made a short inspection during that time and I was within a few feet of him. He was not a big man, but his bearing and way he expressed sincere interest in ordinary soldiers made him impressive. The Division soon moved to the embarkation staging area and looking down on it as one approached, the bustling activity made it seem as if you were looking down on an ant hill.
Normandy, the Hedgerows, and Beyond The following, I am not sure it happened or my memory has failed me, but I seem to remember our loading up on LSTs [Landing Ship Tank] and going out on the English Channel only to be sent back to the embarkation point because things were not going well enough for us to go in yet. I believe it was the first and that it happened because the type of warfare needed in the hedgerow countryside of Normandy was mainly infantry supported by artillery and the other type units that support infantry. Being on an LST was not a good experience for me and I feel that many guys felt the same as I. It's wide open hold crowded with multi ton vehicles is an eerie place to send time in dangerous waters. The ship would have to sink in quick order if the hull had been opened up. Whatever, we landed on Omaha Beach over two weeks after D-day and it was still a sobering sight to see. The wreckage of the hell of taking the beach still lay on the sands in addition to the supplies being brought in by the tons. We saw the real sobering sight of war on the beach and as we moved away from it. Our dead were stacked like cords of firewood as GI blanket-wrapped dead were piled awaiting removal by the graves registration people. As we moved inland we passed many piles of dead. It was a sobering sight. The war was no longer remote , we were in it.. We moved inland, stopped, removed the waterproofing from the vehicles and prepared to take part in the war. In my company our first casualty was a good friend to all of us. He was a family man who spent his free time writing letters home, doing laundry, ironing, polishing and other small jobs for others and sent money earned home to his family. I think all units had such people and I am sure they earned the respect of many of us they served with . This man served the Army well, but to serve himself, he put his gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. We never learned any reason for his action , but he was our first war dead just as if he had died of enemy fire. This my own impression of the use of armored force in the hedgerow countryside of Normandy. There was not much use for it. I do not know how the medium tank companies were used, but Recon Company was given little shitty jobs like being moved here and there to strengthen weak spots in the infantry line. Infantry companies caught the hell of fighting in the hedgerows. We would be sent to a point in the rear of infantry that had been weakened by losses, from there we would move in on foot to reinforce that company. Armored vehicles moving around drew enemy artillery fire which not welcomed by anyone so for the infantry sake and our own we left our vehicles a bit to the rear. Early in the game of war we were moved in to strengthen an infantry company which had been infiltrated the night before and had lost several men who died in their foxholes with their throats cut. We reinforced the company until morning, but didn't sleep much. During the night we were brought to full alert by a burst of automatic fire by a soldier who seen a dark shape moving toward him from the wrong direction. He had killed a French jackass and had created only relief and smiles when it was learned what an enemy he had killed. Such use for us ended as more infantry replacement arrived in France and more use was found for us as armor. The infantry rightfully deserve the real credit for the hedgerow fighting in Normandy. All through training as Recon Co. we were told we would find the enemy and the big-boys coming up behind us would blow the hell out of them. It didn't work that way in my short career as a combat soldier. In reality from my short experience, after reporting enemy contact we were ordered to push on through then the big-boys would take care of them. That made us good targets for being trapped and getting the hell shot out of us. Shortly before D-day my company had received what most of us considered a low blow. Our captain who most of us thought of as a fine officer and one in whom we had respect for and confidence in was replaced by a West Point graduated First Lt.. He knew the "book" but was short on common sense. If the book had said stand in formation for mail call, that would have been our lot. I stood in formation for some dammed silly reasons. We lacked respect for him or confidence in him as a leader and he proved it out. in combat. Instead of being close enough to give orders to his subordinate officers, he remained further back and gave his favorite order, which was "push on through we are right behind you" . In our minds we questioned, "yes but how far?. When things died down and we were digging in for the night, he would come roaring up on a motorcycle and spend a few minutes reviewing the troops. He did that once too often and was hit by an artillery shell on the way back. I do not believe any tears were shed, but I believe there would have been, had it been our captain of the 3 previous years.
Then we began to move and I believe I was on the point of one of the Division's first spearheads. The infantry troops had pushed through the bombed area and was meeting resistance from the dug in Germans who had survived the bombing. We pushed through behind the infantry and turned toward the southwest. My platoon of Recon Company was on the point of what was being referred to as a spearhead. We were moving down country type roads with low hedgerows lining the road. As we moved P40 and P51 fighter bombers strafed and bombed ahead of us. The metal links of their expended ammunition sometimes fell on our vehicles and the roadbed. Their support saved many lives because as we moved we would pass the dead men and the big guns which would have played hell with our light armor. Our platoon armored vehicles consisted of light tanks, M8 armored cars and halftracks, all light armor. As we moved, we passed one of the most gruesome sight imaginable. In the middle of the road sat the smallest of the German vehicles, in the drivers seat sat a German soldier with his hands clutching the steering wheel, but his head consisted only of his lower jaw and his ears. He had just recently been killed, apparently by one of the planes supporting us. That kind of a sight is a low blow to the gut regardless of what ever you have already seen. As we moved on we reached a "T" road coming from the right, and my car was ordered to go through a break in the hedgerow to the left . As we entered the break, I could see a barn surrounded by a stone fence at the other end of the long narrow field. I alerted the gunner and started firing at the figures I could see at the stone fence and near the barn. A few second later I remember a very loud clang and a flash of red fire. My car had been hit by an anti-tank round. I came to my senses on the ground with some guys around me. They told me that my driver, a man named Jim Jeffery from Illinois and the radioman an Italian from New Jersey (too many years have passed I cannot remember his name) were killed, but my gunner and I were OK. We were both shaken up and were sent to the rear and ended up with the medics. The Division moved away from us so fast on the break-through that I was given a chance to rejoin them through a replacement depot or take my chances with whatever unit I might be assigned to. This is where you might say, "he chickened out". That is true, one part of me wanted to rejoin my buddies, but enough of them had been killed or wounded that another part of me said, take your chances even if you end up in the infantry. I think I lucked out. The armies were moving so fast that combat MPs were needed. The 380th MP Battalion was formed and I became a part of it. Thus ended my association with the 3d Armored Division. I have often wished that I had taken my chances with the Division, but I do not feel that I shirked my duties, I just took my chances on the luck of the draw and won. An ironic footnote on all this is: my armored car was hit by friendly fire. I learned later that a medium tank in the column behind us fired without knowing what he was really shooting at. So much for support from the rear. From what I have heard and read, it happened a lot and is called "friendly fire," an accepted fact of war. Being a part of the 3d Armored is one of the few important happenings of my life and I am proud of my service. Charles Ray Reeder, 35254954
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After the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, I did not rush downtown and volunteer to go to war to defend my
country. Two factors caused this lack of patriotism on my part. One was that my teenage memories contained thoughts of an uncle hit in the gut by a large fragment of shrapnel and another uncle gassed by mustard gas during World War I. They came home from that war physical wrecks and remained so the remainder of their lives. The second factor was
that on Monday December 8th, the day after Pearl Harbor, I was to take my final physical ordered by my draft
board.
A few weeks later equipment began to come in until we were ready for the next phase of our training which was desert warfare. We were shipped to the middle of the Mohave Desert, set up a base camp of tents and began desert maneuvers. The maneuvers were interesting. The drastic change, from the hot, moisture laden air of the semi-swamps of the mosquito heaven of Louisiana to the hotter-than-hell , dry arid and open lands of the desert was quite an experience but I had a ball. The fellow driving the peep I was assigned to ride in, broke his arm and I graduated from machine gunner to peep driver. To go from bouncing around in the back seat holding on to my 2x4 gun to the driver's seat was a very welcome change. No roads, open lands and driving hell-bent across such terrain was fun for a corn-fed hick from Indiana. Some happenings caused it to be more interesting. A dust cloud was sighted far across the desert from our position and our Company Commander decided to check it out. He chose my peep to ride point in. We were going as fast as the terrain would permit when he shouted at me, "God
Damn it! I said turn left". Startled, I turned the steering wheel hard left and he went tumbling out and over the low side of the peep. Scared the hell out of me. I backed up. He dusted himself off, got in and said, "Well, I told you to turn left, I should have been ready. Let's go." The sandy desert soil saved my ass and his too.
On another occasion, a four peep patrol was sent out on a scouting assignment and we were coming back in after dark. I was driving the lead peep and when a "Halt! who goes there challenge" rang out I do not know where this came from, but I yelled back, " A bowlegged sailor with a hard-on". An officer really chewed my ass out on that one. Between breaks in maneuvers passes were issued which let us visit in
Los Angeles, Palm Springs, Hollywood and other interesting spots. To those of us who visited the famed Hollywood canteen, it was a bust. None of us saw anyone well known in the movies like the newsreels pictured it for propaganda and PR purposes.
We arrived in England in September 15 of 1943 at the port of
Liverpool. We traveled to Warminster and were billeted in a former English army training school near
there. We spent a few months training as best we could on that rather crowded island. We had the interesting experience of taking long hikes and having some night patrol training in the Sherwood Forest that Robin Hood is supposed to have operated in. There were some good firing ranges on the seacoast with stray rounds ending up in the sea. We walked guard duty at night with empty guns supposedly guarding against enemy paratroopers. Our Army sure could be stupid and chickenshit at times. Our leaders didn't win the war. The sheer number of our ordinary soldiers doing their jobs and just swamped the enemy. Our leadership was good , but it was along way from being very good in some areas of army activity.. In the very early spring of 1944, we were moved out into the fields around the buildings which we had been occupying. It was a shelter half, pup tent camp that we used until moved to the embarking area for the invasion. An example of chickenshit is that the buildings we moved out of remained empty through a damp and cold English spring while we shivered in pup tents.
When we landed on Omaha beach on June 24, I had a technical corporal rank and the job of company armorer. A very few days later due to casualties and the need for replacements, I was
the commander of an M8 Armored car with buck sergeant’s rank. That changed things considerably.
From the rear echelon to the forward echelon was a swift and drastic change. My spot now was in the turret of the armored car on a ring mounted 50 caliber machine gun. The heat had been turned up. Late in July my Division was used in the engagement that resulted in the name, "Spearhead" It was
later called the "St.. Lo Breakthrough" It was about July 22nd or 23rd that when we were shifted into an area and rumors floated around about a big offensive action. On the morning of July 25 it started with the waves of fighter bombers followed by a deep rumbling sound that gradually increased in volume until it felt like the air and ground were vibrating. It was the sound of big, big bombers flying so thick they looked like a swarm of house flies heading across the sky. The sounds of their bombs were not the sound of house flies. It sounded like the most hellish thunder storm ever. This continued for what seemed like hours, but I believe it was only a little over 2 hours.