Editor's Note: Senior Times columnist Ronald K. Culbertson has been assisting Myrtle Creek resident Richard R. (Dick) Chaney to write his memories of serving with a Tank Destroyer Battalion during World War II. Today's cover story is an excerpt from that memoir, including Chaney's memories of two Christmases spent in a European war zone during World War II. The excerpt is written by Culbertson as told by Chaney.



I was drafted into the Army in 1943, while in my senior year at Myrtle Creek High School. At that time Myrtle Creek had a small population. I was first sent to Fort Lewis, Wash., and then reassigned to basic training at Camp Hood, Texas, on Sept. 8, 1943.

The instructors there seemed more interested in our pup tents being aligned than teaching us to survive in combat. We didn't have any equipment. Our rifles were wooden dummies.

That changed when an officer who had been in combat in North Africa took over the training. I was assigned to a unit for replacements in the tank destroyer units. After training, we were sent to Fort Meade, Maryland, and then immediately sent to the Hidden St. George, near Southampton, EnglandChelsea Duncan 12/1/09 . The Normandy invasion was being planned and we were told to pack our gear and be ready to move.

Seventeen of us were assigned as casualty replacements for the 635th Tank Destroyer Battalion and sent to a marshaling area near Southampton, where we were loaded on a troop ship that carried LCIs (Landing Craft Infantry) boats on board.

The invasion started on June 9, but we landed on the Easy Red section of Omaha Beach several days later. I remember a lone German aircraft attacked the beaches, but was shot down. Flak fell everywhere. The air sounded like it was full of bees.

We fought our way inland hedgerow by hedgerow. Most of the terrain was a dense checkerboard of small fields, surrounded by thick hedges that extended some 50 miles inland. Every field was a potential death trap to the advancing Allies. The German weapon we most feared was the 88, a high-powered artillery gun that had a distinct incoming whistling sound.

There were 114 Oregonians in my outfit, six of us were from Douglas County. We were in constant combat with the Germans until we got three days rest at Saint-Jean-de-Daye, France. While we were there, an officer showed up asking for Pvt. Chaney and found me sitting under an apple tree writing a letter home. I was told to report to the evacuation hospital at Carentan, France where I was to take a physical. When I inquired why, I was told, “We have orders from Eleanor Roosevelt to check your ears and report back to her.”

I discovered my mother had read a newspaper article asking readers to report any serviceman with a cracked eardrum because anyone with a punctured eardrum was exposed to danger during a gas attack since the gas mask did not cover the ears.

Anyone with the problem would be given limited duty outside the combat zone.

My mother remembered that I had ear trouble as a child and had written Mrs. Roosevelt, who promised my mother to look into it and report back.

I was declared fit and sent back to my outfit. When other soldiers heard about my mother's letter to the First Lady, they all wished their mothers would write her to get them out of this mess. Mom kept those letters from Mrs. Roosevelt in her Bible.

But I was back in the thick of things as we forged on toward Germany and VE Day.

One of my indelible memories begins on Dec. 22 when we were 20 miles north of the main German lines. We got orders to pull back into Belgium. It was raining and snowing. The weather turned miserable. We reached Ciney, Belgium and the only shelter from the weather we found was a chicken coop.

Our next move was to Haversen, Belgium on Dec. 23 when we were ordered to break down and clean our equipment. We had everything strung out on tarps on the ground while cleaning the equipment That included even our personal weapons. Suddenly the Germans laid down mortar fire. The enemy was only yards away. We scooped up the equipment in tarps and retreated to reassemble the equipment and continue fighting.

We were still in battle mode on Christmas Day, but we did get a hot meal, a feast of turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy. I sat my mess kit with my dinner on the fender of a jeep and went to get my coffee. When I returned, the jeep had driven away with my dinner. Luckily there was plenty of chow, so I got another heaping serving. Such is the fortunes of war.

On Christmas day, the weather cleared, but the ground was frozen hard. The Battle of the Bulge was over. The Germans were in full retreat back to Germany and we were not far behind as the Allied armies closed ranks for the final victory.

I finally had enough points to come home. In mid-December 1945, I boarded a troop ship to come back to the states. That ship with 5,000 soldiers aboard hit an Atlantic storm that crippled the ship. There was no food and little fresh water. When the weather cleared after a day or so, we made port at Horta, the Azores on December 26, 1945. Finally, the Navy sent the USS Enterprise to rescue us and take us home.

We arrived in New York on January 14, 1946, the day after my 21st birthday. From there I went to Fort Meade, Maryland. We were there three days until there were 21 men from the Northwest assembled. We were then flown to Seattle and sent on to Fort Lewis for discharge.

I was told I would have to turn in my “Ike” jacket, but I told the supply sergeant that I earned that uniform and I wasn't about to turn it in. I still have it and it still fits.