In February, 1944, I was First Lieutenant, Executive Officer, Company D, 305th Infantry, 77th Division at Camp Pickett, Virginia. I had been in this unit since February 1942 when it was activated and had been closely associated with many others as we worked, ate, slept and spent our spare time together in military barracks, the woods of South Carolina, the swamps of Louisiana, the deserts of Arizona and the mountains and snow of West Virginia to prepare ourselves and our units for effective combat at any place in the world to which we might be assigned.

Mary and I were married Dec. 31, 1942 and, after having lived together for numerous short intervals during this period, were now living in a small apartment in Kinsbridge, about 15 minute drive away when, with only a few days notice, I and about 25 other officers and about 300 privates were notified that we were to be separated from our units and to be sent elsewhere. Later, we found that so many casualties had occurred in combat that all units destined to be in combat with the enemy would be strengthened by 10% shortly before they were committed so that they would be an effective fighting unit after these losses shall have been realized. Therefore, we were sent to Camp George G. Mead to prepare to leave with very short notice for an unannounced destination. (This was not an unusual procedure as secrecy of troop movements was not advertised as this kind of information would be detrimental if enemy forces became aware of it.) I was able to find a motel about a 20 minute train ride away and I was able to be there most every night for about three weeks while our unit was being processed through all kinds of shots, physicals and other tests, etc.

Mary was about 8 months pregnant at this time and I was very reluctant to leave her but it was not mine to decide. I remember, as though it were yesterday, the last morning that I left her in the motel to return to the camp. To go the railroad station and I had to walk up a hill and cross over to the other side. As I approached the top of the hill, I looked over my shoulder and waved. I could not see her, but I felt that she was watching me through the window. A few steps later, I looked again, but the window was not visible. I fully realized that the chances of my returning were very poor , but I had tried to keep this from her as best I could. This was based on my actual experience in mock combat wherein we fought an imaginary enemy in practice drills. This was particularly true and much more impressive to me when I recalled serving as umpire in Louisiana and had the responsibility of specifying individual casualties as being wounded or killed based on the listed results of fire power from the 88th Division against my own unit, the 77th Division.

I was leaving my country, my home, and, most importantly, the girl I loved so dearly who was carrying my unborn child. This was on my mind as I walked over the hill and looked back and found the window was out of sight. It was almost more than I could bear. I was on the way to board a ship to go to an unannounced destination.