We Who Were There: A Collection of Macon County World War II Stories

By Patrick C. Sullivan

From 2012-2014, local historian Patrick Sullivan collected the stories of World War II veterans currently living in Macon County, Illinois. Those stories, told in the veterans’ own words, are presented here.

All proceeds from the sale of this book will go to preserving the Macon County World War II Memorial.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Aug 2, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483449302

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SULLIVAN

Copyright © 2016 PATRICK C. SULLIVAN.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-4931-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-4930-2 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 7/8/2016

CONTENTS

Army

Air Corp

Marines

Coast Guard

Navy

Women in the Service

This book is dedicated to my grandmother, Helma Koslofski, as well as to my grandfather, Leonard Koslofski, and to all those like him who served our country and whose stories were never recorded.

SPECIAL THANKS GO TO:

All of the veterans I interviewed for opening their lives to make this project possible.

My parents for the encouragement that a project such as this requires.

Professor Brian Mullgardt for helping me get my project started.

Mr. Andrew Martin for helping mold my love of history and writing.

Nicholas Showalter for taking the cover photos.

And to all those who donated to help make this project possible, including: Terry and Julie Causey, Tom and Suzie Fogerson, Pawel Geneja, Helma Koslofski, Kevin and Michelle Koslofski, Richard

Rotz, Owen Sharp, Lynn Stedman, Carolyn Sullivan, Donna Sullivan, Gary Sullivan, and Robert West

NOTE ON READING THIS BOOK

The stories in this book were collected by interviewing veterans. I would then write a coherent narrative from that interview. At times, these veterans are directly quoted in their stories. Sometimes these quotations are modern statements referencing the veterans’ experience. Such a recollection is noted with a full set of quotation marks ( ). Other times, the veteran is quoted as referencing a conversation or remark that occurred in the past. Those quotations are noted with single quotation marks (‘ ’).

Any grammatical errors are solely my fault and I sincerely hope that you will not let them detract from the stories.

INTRODUCTION

For as long as I can remember, a Navy uniform has hung in the den of my grandmother, Helma Koslofski. My grandmother assures me that my grandfather, Leonard Koslofski, wore this uniform while he served in World War II. As a child, I would glance at the uniform from time to time, never giving it much thought. It was not until I began to learn about World War II that my interest in the uniform began in earnest. After learning about the great acts of the men who invaded Iwo Jima and pushed back the Wehrmacht in the Ardennes, I began to wonder about the history of that uniform and about the man who had worn it.

In 2000 when my grandfather died, I was only seven years old and still too young to appreciate and understand what he had done for our country during the war. Through my grandmother I have been able to collect a few stories about my grandpa; for example, I know that he drove an LCVP boat at Omaha Beach on D-Day. But what about the questions only he could answer, such as, what did he do during basic training? How did he feel as he left the safety of the United States and entered a world at war? What was going through his mind as he drove his ship toward oncoming German fire? These are just a few of the questions I wish I could ask my grandfather.

As I collected the stories of Macon County’s World War II veterans, I found that I was not alone in wanting to hear the firsthand story of the veteran closest to me. During my work, I received numerous calls from people who also expressed the same longing to ask those close to them about their experience in the war. Like me, they too have speechless and story-less mementos left by their veterans. The purpose of this book is, and always has been, to preserve the stories of Macon County’s World War II veterans in order to give an undying voice to the histories of the men and women behind the mementos while also preserving, between the lines, the silent stories of the countless other veterans in countless other counties across America.

It is my privilege to present those stories to you now.

ARMY

The soldier is the Army. No army is better than its soldiers. The soldier is also a citizen. In fact, the highest obligation and privilege of citizenship is that of bearing arms for one’s country.

-George S. Patton

Bill Hoffmann, Technical Sergeant

Mr. Bill Hoffmann was born in Chicago in November of 1923. His father was a metal worker who, once the war began, became a superintendent of the shipyards in Evansville, Indiana. His mother was a concert violinist. When Hoffmann was very young, his mother was invited by Cyrus McCormick to play in Los Angeles. Once his mother became pregnant with Hoffmann’s brother, the family returned to Chicago.

Hoffmann went through the Chicago school system. These schools operated differently than regular schools in that the school year ended in February. When Pearl Harbor was attacked, Hoffmann had a few more months of high school before he could join the service. Right after he graduated in 1942, he attempted to enlist. However, he was deaf in his right ear. This kept him out of the service until he was drafted into the Army a few weeks later.

Hoffmann was inducted at Camp McCoy in Wisconsin. Here he was given several placement tests. He passed the signal test with ease because he had similar training in Boy Scouts. The hearing test was much more difficult for Hoffmann because of his ear. He failed his test and was ordered to wait in the barracks for a week. While he was waiting, he and the other men did a lot of marching. When Hoffmann’s name came up again, he was given another attempt at the hearing test. He failed again. This pattern continued for three weeks. Finally, Hoffmann came up with a plan. The test was performed by having the men cover one of their ears and then listen for a tone, then close their other ear and listen for the tone. When Hoffmann was administered his test the last time, he covered one ear and then, when he was told to cover the other ear, simply covered the same ear without the test administrators noticing!

For basic training, Hoffmann was sent to Camp Wallace in Texas. After his basic training, he was sent to Los Angeles for radio and radar school. Here he learned how to repair radio sets and how to work on radio units. This work applied to the anti-aircraft unit of the Army. The anti-air guns were connected to a radar system. The radar had a large round disc that would send out a signal. When the signal bounced back into the parabola it went into a machine, which then calculated the distance to a plane. That information was then sent to a gun battalion, which would use it to locate enemy planes. Hoffmann’s job was to make sure that the radio and the communication between the radar and the guns was functional. In total, Hoffmann’s training lasted three months.

After his training, Hoffmann was sent to Ft. Bliss in Texas for his disembarkation. One weekend, Hoffmann’s commanding officer had a three-day leave. While the officer was gone, other officers were picking men at random to go to the South Pacific. One of the men the officers picked was Hoffmann’s good friend whose pregnant wife was coming the next week to deliver her baby. The friend went to Hoffmann very upset. Hoffmann asked his friend if he had given the officer his name. He said that he had not. Hoffmann decided to go in his friend’s place.

From Texas, Hoffmann was sent to California and, from there, boarded a ship bound for New Guinea. By this time, it was 1943 and New Guinea had already been reclaimed by the Allies. En route to the island, an officer asked if anyone could bake. Hoffmann raised his hand and was sent to the kitchens. When his service was over and he had told his mother about this experience, she said, ‘Alright Mr. Baker, go into the kitchen and make me a pie.’ Hoffmann responded, ‘Sorry but I only make 60 at a time!’

Hoffmann served in the 237th A A A Battalion on New Guinea for a total of six months. He and about thirty other men were stationed on top of a plateau near a fighter pilot airstrip. This service was going well until a mishap with an officer caused Hoffmann to request a transfer.

In November 1943, Hoffmann was transferred to Finschhafenin, New Guinea, where he boarded a ship headed for the Philippines. During the voyage, Hoffmann’s ship was attacked by the Japanese. He recalls reading his Army-issued Bible on deck of the ship when all-of-a-sudden, the alarm system started going off. A single plane was on its way towards the ship. The Navy anti-aircraft gunners started firing at the plane, but they were unable to shoot it down. Finally, some of the men from Hoffmann’s anti-aircraft unit took over the guns and managed to shoot the plane down but not before the scout had managed to transmit the ship’s position to other nearby Japanese planes. Soon, three torpedo planes were spotted heading towards the ship. The first plane released its torpedo towards the rear of the ship. The captain tried to take evasive maneuvers. He almost managed to avoid the torpedo, but it struck the ship’s propeller, causing it to fall off. The second plane aimed at the middle of the ship but, because the propeller had been lost, the torpedo hit the ship’s front. The final plane’s torpedo struck the back of the ship. It quickly became clear that the men had to jump overboard.

Luckily, the men had received training on what to do if they had to abandon the ship. Before boarding, the men had been given safety tips. They were told to untie their shoelaces so that they could kick off their shoes once they hit the water. They were also told to hold their lifejackets to their chests so that the lifejackets would not jerk them so much when they hit the water. This advice was perhaps not as useful after an event that had occurred a day before. Two soldiers were teasing a third soldier when a lifejacket got thrown overboard. The lifejacket sunk as soon as it hit the water! Luckily, that was the only defective lifejacket!

As the ship sunk, Hoffmann jumped off. As soon as he did so, men on a lower part of the ship threw out a lifeboat right underneath him. Hoffmann had to twist in order to avoid the lifeboat. Doing so caused him to hurt his leg when he landed in the water.

Hoffmann and the other men were in the ocean for several hours. They were strafed by a Japanese plane, but, other than that, faced no immediate danger. Eventually, Hoffmann and the others were picked up by a Coast Guard corvette. I always tell people that I couldn’t swim, but I still swam in the deepest waters in the world!

After boarding the Coast Guard ship, the captain of the now-sunken vessel asked Hoffmann to go back to retrieve some items. He assured Hoffmann that if he went, he would be given the Bronze Star. Hoffmann said, ‘My mother would love to have that medal, but the Lord saved me from the first swim and I don’t want to test him again!’

The Coast Guard took the men to Leyte. There, they were put onto trucks and given clothes to replace those they had lost. Suddenly, the island’s air raid sirens went off. Torpedoes and bombs started being dropped all around them. The island defenses began firing on the enemy planes and eventually managed to shoot them all down. After this, the men finally got their new clothes and were assigned to new units. Hoffmann was assigned to stay on Leyte to repair and maintain the radar.

Hoffmann was discharged from Ft. McCoy, Wisconsin, in February of 1946. He would have gotten out sooner, but he was so thin that the Army wanted to fatten him up before sending him home!

Hoffmann attended Wilson Junior College in Chicago and then attended optometrist school. He came to Decatur and worked in offices on North Main, West Prairie, North Edward, and Monroe Streets. He specialized in working with children with disabilities and working with baseball players’ hand-eye coordination. He retired in 1999.

Of his time in the service, Hoffmann says, A lot of guys griped about wanting to be home. I decided I wouldn’t be like that because, if I was, it would be a lot longer. I wouldn’t want to do it again, but it really wasn’t too bad.

Ev’s War Diary

Written by Everett Inman

Myself and my good friend, Elmer Harshbarger, received our draft notices on January 13, 1943—we were transported to Peoria, Illinois, for our physicals—which we passed. On January 20, 1943, we went by train to Scott Field, near St. Louis, Missouri. We were interviewed and asked what branch of service we wanted and Elmer and I decided we wanted to be paratroopers. From Scott Field we were sent to Camp Toccoa, Georgia. We were informed there that we were too heavy—I weighed 210 and Elmer weighed 230. I was called into the captain’s office and was told I was accepted, as they knew I could lose the weight. After seeing the camp, Elmer and I decided we didn’t want to stay there as it rained every day and the streets weren’t paved and every place was mud. We were issued rubber boots to get around in. The barracks were built on cement slabs even with the ground and mud was tracked in every place. When I informed the captain that I had changed my mind—he about had a fit and said—‘we’ll see about that.’ A few days later they shipped Elmer and the others that didn’t pass off to another camp and kept me there. They assigned me every shitty job they could find. Digging slit trenches, hauling coal to the barracks, K.P., Charge of Quarters every night—anything you could think of to keep me busy 16 hours a day. Every few days the captain would call me in and ask if I had changed my mind. I was so mad that I made up my mind that he would never break me. About three weeks later he had me shipped to Ft. McClellan, Alabama, for infantry training.

There I had my basic training in telephone and switchboard, pole climbing and everything that had to do with laying wire. After thirteen weeks the officer in charge called me in and said that they wanted to keep me and train the next incoming group. I accepted and was made corporal. I stayed and trained three groups and then was transferred to Camp Blanding, Florida, and was advanced to sergeant and trained three more incoming groups.

In June, 1944, I was given ten days leave to go home and I was at the train station in Atlanta, Georgia, when I heard about D-Day. After my leave I reported to Ft. Meade, Maryland. A week later I was sent to Ft. Dix and then to New York to board the Queen Elizabeth. We landed in Southampton, England. We were trucked to a camp north of London and a week later back to Southampton to board a troop ship and got on an LST to Omaha Beach—marched inland about three miles to a replacement camp.

I was at this camp on July 25th, which was the bombing run ahead of the big breakout and they flew right over us and I had never seen so many bombers in my life. I might add that many of the bombers dropped their bombs short killing many of our soldiers, including one general.

The 30th Infantry Division was one of the divisions in that breakout and a sergeant was killed and I was his replacement. So now I was a member of the 30th Division, which drove all the way across France— we came close enough to Paris to see the Eiffel Tower. We crossed the Seine River at Mantes Gassicourt and we were the first division to enter Belgium and Holland. We crossed the Meuse River a few miles north of Liege, Belgium, and entered Holland. Our group stayed two months at Heerlen, Holland, to be re-supplied and to receive replacements.

We crossed the Siegfried Line and moved on to Herzogenrath, Germany, staying for two months. I should explain that the 30th Division was made up of three regiments—117th, 119th, and 120th. My wire laying team was made up of eleven of us and it was our duty to keep telephone communications between division headquarters and the 117th Regiment when we were in position. They always wanted telephone communication back then because the radios weren’t too reliable. Our team of eleven had a jeep, a three- quarter ton truck, and a two-and-a-half ton truck to carry our wire and other supplies, our rations, as we didn’t go back to camp for meals.

The 117th was at Alsdorf, Germany, for a rest and our squad moved into an empty house and had to stay on the first floor because another group was staying in the basement. During the night we were caught in an artillery barrage and one shell hit the second floor right above us—but only our hearing was hurt. Another shell hit an apple orchard where our trucks were parked and we had several flat tires and shrapnel hits on the cabs.

The night of December 16th, we joined a convoy of trucks heading for The Bulge. The whole division was loaded into trucks and I have no idea how many miles long that convoy covered and as we got close to the breakout we came under artillery fire and bombing runs by German planes. Of course, we were under blackout conditions and all the headlights on the trucks were just small slits and the going was very slow.

We pulled into the town of Malmedy and were met by some soldiers and they asked what unit we were with and we told them the 117th and they let us know that this was the 120th regiment position and how we got mixed up I’ll never know. Anyway, we ended up in Francorchamps, Belgium, which was on the north side of The Bulge. While we were at Francorchamps, which was on higher ground than Malmedy, we watched our planes bomb Malmedy, not one day, but two days in a row, killing many of our soldiers that belonged to the 120th Regiment.

After the Battle of the Bulge we went back to Malmedy and were staying in an empty hospital and it was where they would bring the frozen bodies of some of our soldiers that had been captured and then shot by SS troops.

While at the Battle of the Bulge, my daughter, Karen, was born on December 14th and I didn’t get the telegram until December 23rd.

On January 24th we moved back to Lierneux, Belgium, for a rest. February 2nd back up north to Aachen, February 8th moved to Inden, February 16th to Fromhoven, and February 24th we crossed the Roer River. March 2nd moved to Juchen, March 8th moved to Echt, Holland. While at Echt, Holland, we spent a week preparing for the Rhine River crossing. We practiced crossing the Meuse River for a week and then on March 18th we moved to Alpon, Germany, and at night we spent our time digging a trench and laying our wire up to the Rhine River. We had our cable all prepared with weights so the current wouldn’t take it downstream. The morning of the crossing our artillery laid down a barrage that lasted from 0200 to 0500 and as the infantry was crossing, we were laying the cable. For this, myself and four others received the Bronze Star. On April 9th, we were in Hameln, Germany, and April 13th we heard about Roosevelt’s death. On April 23rd, we were at Magdelburg, Germany, on the outskirts of the Elbe River and were there for five days. We were stopped there and met Russian troops and that is as far as we were allowed to go. Then we went into occupation close to the Czechoslovakian border.

After a few weeks of occupation, we moved with the whole division back to France and took a ship over the English Channel and were sent back home on the Queen Mary to get ready to go to Japan—but the war ended.

I was sent by train to Chicago’s Fort Sheridan and received my discharge and rode a train home to Decatur, where my wife was waiting for me—she had met every train coming from Chicago so that she wouldn’t miss meeting me.

I might add that the reason I knew so many of the towns we passed through was because I had a small notebook with me and I wrote down the names. By the way, my friend Elmer ended up in the Rangers and was sent to Italy and was injured in battle and received the Purple Heart. He passed away in 2006 at the age of 82.

Festus Paul, Corporal

Mr. Festus Paul was born in Missouri in 1923, the last of twelve children. His father was a farmer. Paul’s mother died when he was just five years old so he was sent to live with his sister in Staunton, Illinois. He began first grade the next year at Staunton’s elementary school. Paul’s sister’s husband was a minister. As such, the family moved around frequently. When Paul was ten years old, the family relocated to Freelandville, Indiana. He graduated from here in the spring of 1941.

After graduating from high school, Paul attended the Indiana State Teacher’s College. That December, Pearl Harbor was attacked. I thought it was terrible, but that I wasn’t going to have to worry about it. I found out differently pretty soon! In the spring of 1943, he was drafted into the Army.

Paul was sent to Camp Swift in Texas for his basic training. This only lasted three months, but it seemed like an eternity! After basic training, Paul was sent to Ft. Knox in Tennessee for weapons training. Here Paul ran into a problem. Every time that I would shoot a gun, I would jump. The men were taken onto the shooting range and they would all fire at the same time. Unbeknownst to Paul, the commander of the base was watching the men practice. When he saw Paul shoot and jump, boy he got mad! Despite his training, Paul never did manage to get over his anxiety around his gun. However, this would not hinder him in his service.

In the winter of 1943, Paul was assigned to the 9th Infantry and was sent from Ft. Knox to the East Coast for disembarkation. Interestingly, the 9th’s destination was not in Africa or Italy. Rather, they were sent to Northern Ireland. Here they waited around for six months. This stay was not totally wasted, however. While here, Paul was assigned to be a chaplain’s assistant. It was his duty to drive the chaplain wherever he needed to go and to assist with his services. Usually this consisted of playing the field organ. This organ was about the size of a suitcase and could be folded into the jeep whenever the chaplain needed to move. Paul does not have to think hard for a reason as to why he was given this duty. I think that, by this time, they knew that I was not a gunman. In fact, I took to taking my gun apart and hiding it so that I wouldn’t have to use it!

Although Paul’s was an infantry unit, it did not take part in D-Day. Rather, the men arrived on D-Day plus 5. From that point on, it was a matter of advancing through France and into Luxembourg. This they did until the Battle of the Bulge began. At this point, Paul’s unit was near the Luxembourg- German border. Despite the strong German counterattack, Paul’s unit held. In fact, the 9th was the first unit to do so.

While Paul’s unit saw a large amount of fighting during the war, Paul himself was usually not involved. He was stationed in the headquarters company with the chaplain. However, this is not to say that Paul was never in danger. The chaplain would often travel to places just behind the front lines in order to provide services for wounded men, or to encourage those still fighting. At every stop the chaplain made, Paul would be right next to him to provide any needed assistance.

Apart from being a chaplain’s assistant, Paul had another interesting experience while in the Army. Shortly after the Battle of the Bulge ended, replacements were being sent into his unit to replace those lost in the fighting. One of the men who jumped out of the truck came running up to Paul and hugged him. It was Paul’s brother, Follis Paul!¹ The two would serve together for the remainder of their service.

After the Battle of the Bulge, Paul’s unit continued advancing into Germany. Days before the end of the war, the men discovered the Wöbbelin Concentration Camp. This concentration camp was one of the smaller ones that had been built, but the events that took place there were just as brutal as in larger camps. When the Americans arrived, they found hundreds of emaciated prisoners. Those who had recently died were not buried. Rather, they were stacked up in doorways to keep out the cold. Hundreds of bodies of men who had been starved and beaten to death were unearthed from mass graves. The dead were buried individually after funeral services in the town squares of nearby communities. The German townspeople were required to view the bodies, and many townspeople were shown through the concentration camp. The chaplain and I would go around the camp providing encouragement.

When the war ended, the 9th was near Cologne. A few days after the fighting ended, the Americans held a memorial service in the High Cathedral of St. Peter. The cathedral contained a large organ in the balcony that Paul was asked to play during the service. It was a huge, beautiful organ. I hadn’t played a real organ in almost two years. Luckily it was in the back of the balcony so that no one could see who was making all of the mistakes!

Although there was talk that the men would be sent to fight in Japan, they ultimately remained in Europe for the duration of World War II. In September, Paul shipped out from France and returned home. He was discharged from Ft. Leonardwood, Missouri, the same month. He had been in the service for thirty-two months and had spent nineteen months overseas.

After his discharge, Paul attended the University of Missouri where he studied music and teaching. He would have returned to Indiana to continue his education, but, I had started up a hot correspondence with a childhood sweetheart while in the Army. This sweetheart attended the University of Missouri, so, naturally, Paul decided to as well! The two were