Voices from the Korean War - Douglas Rice [151]
After finishing my third year, World War II was in full swing, and ROTC Programs across the country were closed. Those of us entering our senior year were sent home to wait for our induction into the Army. Receiving our notice, we then went to basic training, then back to college under the ASTP program. While attending the program, we waited for openings in the Coast Artillery Officer Candidate School. At graduation we were handed our commissions in one hand, and orders for us to report to the infantry in the other.
I was assigned to the 66th Infantry Division and on December 1, 1944 I boarded the troopship USS George Washington, bound for England. On the twelfth, we docked at Southhampton, England.
On Christmas Eve 1944, most of our 262nd and 264th Regiments boarded the Leopoldville, which as an old converted Belgian passenger ship. The compartment for Item Company, 264th Infantry Regiment, which I belonged to, was several decks below the loading deck. To reach our deck, we climbed down a vertical ladder that passed through holes about three feet in diameter at each deck.
Our cabins were nothing fancy, but they were comfortable. There were six of us to a room on two triple-decker bunks; I had one of the top bunks. One of my bunkmates was Lt. Corbie Truman, who we were told was a nephew of Harry S Truman. Some time during the day we had a lifeboat drill. When the alarm sounded, we put on our life-jackets and went on deck to our assigned locations.
I was in my bunk that evening, around 6:00 PM, when the torpedo hit. I was thrown against the ceiling but not hurt. The alarm sounded. This time it was not a drill—it was real!
Making our way to our assigned locations, I stood on deck surrounded by men from the third platoon. From a deck above, someone using a megaphone was informing us that the ship was not sinking and that we would be towed to port. (We later found out that Cherbourg was only a few miles away.) Shortly after the announcement, some of the crew started lowering the lifeboats. Some of the troops, who thought the crew was getting the boats ready for us, began to cheer. The cheering soon stopped when it was realized that the crew themselves were abandoning ship. They had probably gone through other sinkings, so looking back; it is hard to criticize them. However, at that moment our feelings were not too kind.
The ship was beginning to list and rumor was we might have to abandon ship. Whoever was on the megaphone was doing a good job of keeping us calm, and warning us not to leave the ship.
Suddenly, a special thing happened; a soldier started singing “The Star Spangled Banner!” Soon, everyone was singing, whether they knew the words or not. I didn’t, but I could hardly sing anyway because I kept choking up with emotion.
The HMS Brilliant, a British destroyer, pulled up along side of us. The guy with the megaphone said that some troops would be allowed to jump, but only when and where he directed. The sea was still rough as we could see the destroyer bobbing up and down. It wasn’t long before the man on the megaphone pointed down at me and told me to line up my platoon and bring them up to his deck. Not wasting any time, we were in line and heading to the spot where the other men were jumping to the destroyer.
Lt. Ben Thrailkill and Lt. George Washko, friends of mine, were directing the jumping. They judged the movements, both vertical and horizontal, of both ships, gave the signal, and sometimes a shove, to each man when the two decks were close enough for a safe jump.
Even though I twisted an ankle when I landed among some sort of depth-charge device, my jump was fairly easy. The jump was made easier since I had given my life-jacket to another trooper who couldn’t swim; he had left his on his bunker. I was reprimanded for not having mine, but it was too late to do anything about it; nobody was going to go back down to our compartment to look for one.
After jumping, British seamen took us to a cabin