PART VIII: Race Up the Rhone Valley

Texas Invades Southern France

While Donnell was recovering from Malaria, the 36th Infantry Division regrouped, rested, and trained for a new amphibious assault.   This division was unique.  While most U.S. divisions were created from scratch with recruits from all across the country, the 36th ID was a Texas National Guard unit that was federalized and became known as the “Texas Division” or the “T-Patchers.”  The term “T-Patchers" reflects the unit patch. 

36th ID Unit Patch

The “T” is for Texas and the arrowhead shape recalls a time when the National Guard consisted of Texas and Oklahoma men.  The division had served well in World War One.  But by the Second World War, the unit was exclusively Texan.  As a result, Donnell lived, trained and fought alongside men from Corsicana, Waxahachie, Corpus Christie, Huntsville, and all over the Lone Star State.  To this day, the Texas Division continues its long history of service.  In fact, I saw a T-Patch bumper sticker on a truck yesterday while traveling near Glen Rose, Texas.  The modern day 36th is a Texas-based armoured division, having served in Operation Iraqi Freedom and several theaters in the War on Terror, including Iraq and Afghanistan.  

But back to Donnell's War.  The Allied forces had landed several divisions on the Normandy coast on June 4, 1944, the famous D-Day invasion of Western France.  Allied forces had begun to drive inland but faced tough opposition and unfavorable terrain.  It was slow going.  To ease pressure on that front, seize critical ports to bring in badly needed supplies, and neutralize the untouched tens of thousands of German soldiers in Southern France, the allies launched Operation Dragoon on August 15, 1944.  Dragoon landed several divisions along the French Riviera.  Most of these troops, including the 36th ID, came from the Italian theater.  They were soon joined by Free French troops who had been trained and equipped by the United States.  Together these forces constituted the Allies' Seventh Army.

Blocking The German Retreat

The landings were very successful and U.S. and Free French troops were soon seizing important French ports and landing sites.  This was a crucial task because the biggest limiting factor holding back the allied forces in Normandy was the lack of good ports.  Modern armies require fantastic amounts of fuel, ammunition, food, spare parts, replacements, clothes, medicine, and literally tons of other supplies.  But as important as securing those ports was, the 36th ID’s was given a different mission.  It was tasked with driving inland as fast as possible.  It began a rapid assault deep into France, traveling over 250 miles inland to seize Grenoble.  It was in Grenoble where Donnell rejoined his unit, just in time for the 36th ID's next big operation.  Unfortunately, I do not have any direct references to Donnell or letters or other remembrances from him describing this period.  I have reviewed, however, after action reports and unit histories of U.S. forces engaged in these battles, including other regiments and field artillery battalions in the 36th ID.  From them, I learned the following.

The German 19th Army was retreating north with six divisions and the remnants of several other units, attempting to escape from the oncoming allied forces.  One of these German divisions was an elite armor division, the 11th Panzer.  The rest were infantry divisions with assorted supporting units.  

Map of Southern France, showing 36 ID units racing to cut off the German escape near Montelimar and Valence

The 36th ID split off, with some units joining Task Force Butler, while most of the division’s artillery and infantry (including the 143rd) swung around further north, moving to block the German retreat near Montelimar, France.  That means that the 36th ID, largely alone, was trying to block the escape of six desperate German divisions.  Every vehicle was pressed into service to carry troops, fuel, supplies, and artillery rounds for the guns.  The artillery battalions' trucks were overloaded to “two hundred to three hundred percent.”  133rd AA Report.  The M16 gun trucks, one of which Donnell commanded, were pressed into service as troop carriers, each carrying a squad of about 7 soldiers in the already cramped half tracks.  On August 24, 2014, they travelled 70 miles.  The next day, the division moved another 54 miles in a night march, and the artillery did not get into position until 5:00 am the morning of August 26.   It was to be a very long day.  The division’s artillery, including Donnell’s unit, were positioned in the hills above the roads traveling up the Rhone valley, an ideal position for artillery seeking to interdict and destroy the enemy forces below.  The infantry regiments set up blocking positions along the roads north.  

The fighting was fierce and the enemy desperate.  Remember that the U.S. blocking forces were outnumbered and facing heavy armor as well as overwhelming enemy infantry.  Although the artillery was firing from the hills down into the valley, German forces assaulted them, set out ambushes, infiltrated snipers into their areas, and engaged the U.S. artillery units with their own heavy guns (called "counter-battery fire").  The French Resistance was quite active in the area, helping catch German soldiers and break up potential ambushes.  Nevertheless, the 36th ID’s artillery batteries faced tough fighting.  The 132nd Field Artillery, sister unit to Donnell’s own 133rd, reported German counterattacks on their positions that had their guns engaging the German’s at 2,000 yards.  That is very close action for artillery. A battery of the 141st Field Artillery was almost overrun by German tanks, with the “last tank stopped when only a few rounds of ammunition remained.” Try Us, The Story of the Washington Artillery in WWII, pg. 109.  On August 27, German artillery fire also hit the U.S. artillery positions, including a battalion command post, killing the operations officers among others, while wounding the battalion executive officer, intelligence officer, and several others.  All told, the Battalion HQ lost seven officers to counter-battery fire that day.  Nevertheless, the U.S. guns kept firing.  Indeed, the guns were firing so furiously that ammunition supplies grew critically low for all of the U.S. artillery units, with the supply depots hundreds of miles to the south.  This unit alone was awarded four medals for valor posthumously, seven purple hearts, and a dozen other medals during this period.  

105mm howitzers of the type employed by Donnell's battalion

The Germans, some of them at least, were able to force their way through the outnumbered blocking units of the 36th ID.  It was a hollow victory, however, as the 36th ID's artillery battalions inflicted severe damage on the German forces.  105mm and 155mm shells rained down from the surrounding hills into the Rhone valley, destroying men, tanks, trucks, artillery, and the horses that the German army needed so much to haul supplies and artillery.  According to a history of the 36th ID, “It was the artillery at Montelimar that counted most and swayed the tide of battle.  During the eight days, Division field artillery battalions—131st, 132nd, 133rd, 155th—fired well over 37,000 rounds at the confined, retreating army….   At Montelimar the German Nineteenth Army was virtually destroyed.”  All told, the German army suffered catastrophic losses, including 2,100 vehicles and two divisions worth of artillery pieces.  The 36th ID had, with limited support, held out against larger German units for days until finally joined by U.S. forces moving up from the coast.  They did not stop the entire Ninth Army from escaping, but they shattered it as a fighting force.  

In my experience, Donnell was reticent to talk about "the action" his unit participated in during the wars.  His letters home were no different.  It seems the last thing these soldiers wanted to discuss with loved ones was combat, destruction, and killing; preferring instead to assure their loved ones about their own safety and talk about happier times and home life.  But there is no doubt that Donnell was heavily involved in these actions.  He hauled soldiers to and from battle, carried supplies and ammunition to the three batteries of artillery in his battalion.  It is almost certain he was directly involved in the fighting, experiencing counter-battery fire from German artillery and providing security to his own unit with the gun truck and bazooka teams he commanded.  Judging by the unit histories I have been able to review, German ambushes and armored attacks were experienced by all of the artillery units involved in this operation.  

After several days hard fighting, the 36th ID reorganized and resupplied and quickly set off in pursuit of the retreating Germans.  Even heavier fighting lay ahead, as well as up close encounters with some of the most evil deeds done by man as the T-Patchers liberated eastern France and German death camps.  There are letters from Donnell to his wife, Donnell's own pictures, and more unit histories to review and write about in the next section.  

Part VII: Joining the Great Crusade in France

Since the last post in September 2008, Mom (Janell) and Grandad (Donnell) have passed away.  I am one of Grandad's five grandchildren.  As I was going through Mom's papers, I found materials from Grandad's service in World War II and the Korean War.  Among them were Grandad's hand written notes for the next installment of Donnell's life story as well as many photos and service records.  To honor his service, and my Mom's passion for writing and family, I am posting Part Seven, with minor edits.  I may continue the story based on photos, letters, and army documents from the wars.

Back to Grandad....

SOUTHERN FRANCE:  A NEW THEATER OF WAR

Just a few days before I was released from the hospital in Naples, the 36th Division spearheaded a landing on the beautiful beaches of the French Riviera on August 15, 1944.  A photo taken at the time showed Higgins boats with men from the troopships forming to make a wave and head to shore.

36th ID landing at Saint-Raphaël.  Not from Donnell's files.

Unlike Solerno, the area was only sparsely defended and by nightfall all objectives had been taken; one week later the 36th was nearing Grenoble, France.

My guess is that I landed about five days later after stepping from a merchant ship lower door onto the landing boat.  This time no crawling down a net!  There were only about 50 guys, all heading back to our units.  The beach was deserted with only signs left by the initial landing.  Our instructions were to follow the path left by our units until we reached a highway and continue walking until we reached a town that would process our papers.

Out of all our training this turned out to be the worst I could remember.  We were all loaded down for warfare with full pockets, ammo, etc., even a big gas mask and all of us just being released from the hospital!  After a few miles of walking [nothing] but a rifle and helmet remained.  Even when we reached a small road there was never a truck of any size.  By the next day we reached the army depot.  We were given food and pup tents and were promised that trucks would take us on up to the front.  That night it started raining and our little tents helped some.  By the third day it was still raining and no orders or truck and all our blankets were wet.

ON THE TRAIL OF THE 36TH INFANTRY DIVISION

On our way I had met one of our own men, a cook who was Chinese that was called Ching.  We had shared our pup tent together and both were in bad shape.  Yet still there were no orders or truck and I had had enough.  It seemed that the front was moving so fast that all trucks were being used chasing the Germans.  I had noticed some big trucks loaded and passing near the depot heading north.  During the night I told Ching that I was leaving the next morning on my own and I would have no trouble flagging down a truck going north.  He agreed to go with me so by daylight the next day we were out on the highway where there were lots of army trucks.

Ching and Donnell returning to the 36th.

After a few days and many different rides we located our unit and reported to our First Sergeant.  He said that he was expecting us as he had received notice that we had missed roll call back at the depot.  He said that we did the right thing as no telling when we would have been returned. 

DONNELL'S DUTIES:  PROTECTING HIS UNIT

I believe it appropriate to bring the reader up to date as to my status and duties and what I expected of myself as of August 1944:  I was now 23 years old, very young considering the much older men from the Texas National Guard.  I had joined the Guard in October 1939, just days after my 18th birthday.  My present duties as a corporal over four men were to protect the battery from the enemy while doing their duties.  I used four .50 caliber machine guns and two [three] inch rocket launchers.  I was well satisfied with my position and believe I'd performed all that had been expected of me and would continue to do so.


[Editor's Note:  Below is a photo from Grandad's files of the "quad fifty."  It was used as an anti-aircraft battery and as an anti-personnel weapon.  It consisted of four fifty caliber air-cooled M2 Browning machine guns mounted together.  Affectionately referred to as the "Ma Deuce" by soldiers, the Browning .50 is still in service in today's U.S. military.]

M16 Motor Gun Carriage, 133rd Field Artillery.

DONNELL'S LIFE STORY

PART 6: A YEAR IN ITALY

Part 5 ended with my rejoining my unit a few days after September 9, 1943. Part 6 will cover my nearly 12 months in Italy and will end with my departure to southern France in August 1944.

LANDING AT SALERNO

With regard to the landing at Salerno, I wish to quote part of an article by John Witenberg that appeared on Page 2 of the T Patch, dated 11/25/44:

Nov. 25, 1944 will mark the fourth anniversary of the Texas National Guard since it was activated into Federal Service as the 36th Texas Division and stationed at Camp Bowie, Texas. Known as a "hot" outfit during its strenuous amphibious and mountain training at Camp Bowie, Camp Blanding, Camp Edwards, and in Africa, the 36th was chosen to spearhead the first American invasion of Continental Europe. The first assault waves of the 36th hit the beaches at Salerno on Sept. 9, 1943 at 3:30 a.m. They ran into a concrete wall. For five days the valiant men fought bitterly to secure the beachhead, then the breach came. The fighting men of Texas swept forward over shattered defenses, Altaville, Naples and Cassino. The battle went on through slushy mud, rain and sleet. Near Cassino the 36th fought their way across the Rapido River into barbed wire, the mortar fire and the mines of strongly entrenched Germans. Two attempts failed, the third was called off.

This quote briefly summarizes the first four years of active service ending in the Spring of 1944 and including the wet, cold and insecure winter of 1943-44.

Getting back to the Salerno beaches of September 1943, I was glad to be back with my unit with many friends I had been with since joining the Texas National Guard just a few days after reaching my 18th birthday. Before leaving from Africa, several of us were assigned to land early from a troop ship while most were loaded on smaller crafts that were able to carry our trucks, 105 mm guns, etc. to land on the beaches. All four of my men were fine as were the two bazookas; but all four of the 50 caliber machine gun barrels were inoperable due to over heating caused by improper use. These were air-cooled guns and could be used effectively with short bursts only, rather than continuous firing. The best I could find out, the guns worked fine for awhile but were damaged by men other than the four assigned and trained in my group. All four barrels were replaced later due to "excess firing beyond maximum limits during uncontrolled conditions."

I read somewhere that the size of a war was no larger than the eye can see. After 64 years I still remember some of what I saw there in September, 1943, part of which was included in the last few pages of Part V. It is noted here that much has been written of the 36th Division during World War II. My purpose here is to mention a few events that may be of interest to my family as pertains to me. When not the case, proper credits will be given as applicable.

My guess is that I spent the first night not over 150 yards from the beach. Troops were still trying to land further down the beach to my right. I had no idea whether I was on the red, blue or green beach. From my foxhole I could see that I was not where I was supposed to be according to the map I remembered reviewing the day before on ship. From the condition around me, I could tell that things were not progressing as planned. The navy ships far out at sea continued to fire their big guns, and I could hear blasts on the mountains in front of me. At the same time, the German artillery was zeroing in on the beaches and on our crafts trying to land. As my orders were to help secure the beach and join my unit when it came ashore, I and many around me just dug our foxholes a little deeper and waited.

While on the beach the first few days, we were able to see a lot of what was going on out at sea, the hills and the mountains inland, and the sky above. The large Navy ships appeared to keep moving from left to right and reverse, but continuing to fire their big guns both day and night. The same applied to the German 88's from their positions up in the hills and mountains above us. The skies at night were lit up as though it was July 4th or midnight on New Year's Eve. We could see the continuous flashes of the Navy ships at sea and the yellow hot projectiles passing over on their way to targets in the hills and mountains. Some nights we could see in the darkness above large search lights seeking German aircraft attempting to destroy the ships at sea and targets on shore. As each plane was picked up by the lights, we could see many tracers from our anti-aircraft guns as they arched across the sky toward the plane. We could see the planes caught in the lights trying to avoid the lights with difficult maneuvers but most were unsuccessful, and fell from the sky after a blast of fire. As the days passed we could tell that we were winning the war both on land and in the air. Lucky for us, the enemy did not have the reserves and firepower available in time to hold their positions. They had to retreat further inland beyond the hills, up in the mountains north of Cassino along the Rapido River.

HEAVY LOSSES & A COLD WET WINTER

An article from the T Patch of 11/25/44 described the conditions of the cold and wet long winter of 1943-44. As I remember we advanced but little during the last two or three months and had many killed and wounded. Here is the quote: "The first 10 days at Salerno had cost about 5,000 men. Another 2,000 fell at San Pietro; three days fighting along the Rapido River took 1,500 more."

LANDING AT ANZIO

It was decided that the Germans were too well entrenched in key positions overlooking the river so it was decided to surprise them by making another landing 140 miles further north near the little town of Anzio. Day after day of mortar, artillery, and air strikes failed to be effective in the Rapido River area.

THE LEANING TOWER OF PISA

The 36th Division was pulled out of action and moved back near Naples for rest and was reinforced with replacements. Our Division would not spearhead the Anzio landing. This time I was with my unit on an LST (Landing Ship Tank), and I didn't even get my feet wet. Within a month we were through Rome and up near the town of Pisa, the town with the famous "Leaning Tower of Pisa."

SICK WITH MALARIA

It was during our breakthrough near Rome that I began to feel bad each night although I was okay during the mornings. Each day or so I seemed to get worse, and I knew I had fever at times. We had one medico assigned to us in Africa that had given me a few pills, and I assured him I had been taking an atabrine pill each day. I had also been taking all precautions, including wearing mosquito nets over my head and wearing gloves at nights in the Anzio area where the mosquitoes were terrible.

Finally I was taken to the nearest first aid station with a high fever, and I could hardly walk. I was told I had a bad case of malaria and was sent all the way back to a hospital in Naples. I was put in an ambulance and taken to Rome, then transferred to another and then another and by the time I reached Naples I could hardly move my arms or talk. My head felt like it was going to explode. After being carried in on a stretcher, I passed out. I was suddenly awakened by a shout and looked up at a nurse that was reading papers pinned to my chest. In a matter of seconds, I had at least four or maybe more people working on me. Thirty minutes later I felt like I was floating on air, and I still remember saying, "I sure feel good." The nurse, still working on me, said, "you should, your fever is now down to 102 degrees!"

I was given a bath using alcohol. I have no idea how long it had been since I first reported sick up near Pisa.

I was soon declared fit to report for duty. I was surprised to find out that the 36th had been moved back to Naples and had already landed on the beaches of South France. My orders were that I would be on the next troop ship leaving Naples and that I would report to my unit in South France. My time in Italy was just less than one year, and I was looking forward to rejoining my unit in France. I felt pretty good as I had excellent care in the hospital but had lost about 15 pounds and still felt a tad weak. Hopefully I would be as good as new by the time I got back to my unit. While in Italy I spent five days at a rest camp at Cassino and five days in Rome.

While in Cassino I sent Jean a photo of me in new clothes. From Rome I sent a bunch of things, including a bedspread and a dress for Janell. In August of 1944 I departed from Italy for southern France.

RECOMMENDATIONS

Anyone who would like to see live coverage of the war in Italy as taken from our U.S. people and those of the Germans should refer to the following:

1) "Victory at Sea" on DVD, Volume 3, Roman Renaissance, Count 1-900 - Germans taking over Italy; Sicily, Landing at Salerno, Anzio and the Rome Conquest.

2) This exact documentary is listed on VCR also, starting with Salerno at 10.00 described as Victory at Sea, Volume XIV: Roman Renaissance.

Note: The Germans can be identified by their steel helmets which drop down to protect their ears all the way around their necks; the U.S. helmets are the same depth all the way around, like a bowl. This ends Part 6. Richard Donnell Hoggatt, Sr. The date is 8/19/08.

DONNELL'S LIFE STORY

Part 5: STATEN ISLAND TO SALERNO, 1943

This is Part 5 of my life story and covers April 4, 1943, the day my ship departed from Staten Island, N.Y., my five months in Africa, and the landing on the beaches of Salerno, Italy, right after September 9, 1943.

APRIL 4, 1943: DEPARTURE BY SHIP

As we moved slowly out of the harbor into the open sea, I could hardly believe what was happening to me. I can still remember vividly the feeling of excitement due to the adventurous nature of what was ahead. We had worked hard for several years in make-believe warfare and felt ready and unafraid. There was a pleasant and happy atmosphere all around me as though we were heading for our first vacation in Paris. Looking out to sea for miles in every direction from my vantage point near the bow, were ships of every description. There were troop ships like our own, cargoes, tankers, Navy escort destroyers, corvettes, and even a battle ship in the far distance. How proud I felt to be a part of such an amazing show of strength on its way to unknown lands and battles.

As I looked back west I could hardly see the tall buildings of New York; then a short time later they had completely disappeared. At that time, I noticed our large convoy had gotten closer together. I could plainly see the merchant ship next to us that was about one-fourth mile away; out further was a battleship and several destroyers. Still, all I could see in every direction, in front, on the left and right and behind were the hundreds of vessels making up the convoy.

It was my understanding that many of the navy ships would return to their U.S. stations after we were far out to sea, beyond the vast number of German submarines patrolling the east coast. It was then that the convoy would have to depend on speed, changing directions every few minutes, the vast size of the Atlantic, and a little luck to avoid the U-boats.

Sometime later I felt cold and alone, as the north wind in early April can get cold up on deck. Looking around I found the deck was nearly deserted, and I quickly made my way down several flights of stairs and climbed up into my bunk. I could feel the motion of the ship as it gently moved with the sway of the sea. This was our first night out and we had "smooth sailing ahead." As I relaxed expecting to go to sleep, I began to think of the events of the day. Both meals had been better than I expected and all had gone well but I couldn't go to sleep. My bunk wasn't bad even though it was covered with canvas, and it was plenty long. I had been assigned to the top bunk and could see only a few pipes and beyond was total darkness. I had slept on this same bunk the night before tied up to the dock and had no trouble sleeping. Now that we were at sea with the ships movement, And the many new sounds around me, I suddenly felt lonely. It was then I began to think about my future.

THOUGHTS OF JEAN

I never had any doubt about winning the war or the part I would play, but it was after the war was over that bothered me. I then began to have serious doubts that I would make a good father or even a good husband for Jean. Certainly I had no experience or qualifications for either one. My high-spirited adventurous feelings suddenly turned glum, doubtful and lonely. In just a few hours I had changed from a 21-year-old GI on the way to seek fortune and fame to a confused and insecure kid! I had nothing to offer a wife and child that I had never seen, only seven days old. It was then I began to think back to when Jean and I met and how attracted we were to each other from the first moment. My thoughts brought me back to how Jean rode a bus all the way to Jacksonville, Florida to see me to three days later on July 4, 1943, and the vows we made, and the four-day honeymoon we spent in St. Augustine. After returning to Texas, Jean even rode a train while three months pregnant, all the way to Buzzards Bay, Massachusetts to be with me! These memories made me realize what a lucky man I was and that our marriage was the best thing that ever happened to me. These lovely thoughts never faded and have never been forgotten.

Day two found us far out to sea with our escort Navy ships still all around the convoy. There were even a few large manned balloons floating low above that could spot any U Boat that should dare to get close to the surface of the sea. Also a sea plane would fly over each hour or so, U-Boat hunting. All of this added to the pleasure of laying on the deck in complete safety.

DAY THREE: DESTINATION ANNOUNCED

On the third morning when I arrived on deck, I noticed that many of the escort ships were missing, as well as the balloons. It would be many days before we would see a seaplane meeting us on the other side. It should be noted that most, if not all, of the merchant ships, including our own, had been outfitted with anti-aircraft guns and tin-can type rockets with fixed launchers. Although the ship's crew, including the Captain, were merchant marines, the guns and launchers were manned by trained Navy sailors. My brother Burl was a Navy gunner and was serving on merchant ships crossing over to England. The anti-aircraft guns and rocket launchers were all over the deck and were off limits to us GIs who had no assigned duties whatever. Although it was not official, it was well known that any vessel that had trouble and could not catch up on its own was left behind to face the German U- boats. Such ships were seldom heard from again, we were told. It must be remembered that in early 1943, the German U-boats were still causing serious damage to our ships leaving from the East Coast. Although I did not keep a daily record on the way over, I thought it took 18 days to cross over. A daily record was kept by an officer who gave a daily account of only 12 days. I'm sure he was right but it seemed like three weeks to most of us. None of the information noted by the officer is listed here but is shown in the T-Patch 36th Division Two Year Overseas Edition, dated 4/15/45. I have a copy that is in bad shape after 63 years but is still readable. I believe it was on the third day out that it was announced that our destination was Oran, Africa. We knew that it would be a friendly port but most of us thought we would land in England. I don't remember any disappointment, most of us thought Oran, Africa would be most interesting, wherever it was!

There were a few scary times when depth charges catapulted from some of our ship's deck exploded far below us. The first time was really scary and it sounded like all the pots and pans from the kitchen above fell to the floor. After several experiences with what we now knew was happening it became nearly routine. As far as I know, we lost not a single ship from that large convoy but did have a few encounters with U-boats.

DAY FOUR: ROUGH SEAS

Around the fourth day we ran into a lot of rough seas. According to the news, it got as rough as anyone could remember. Even some of the sailors got sea sick. Some of our men were too sick to go up on deck for several days and some even refused to go up to eat. We brought food down to them for several days. I was just sick enough to know how badly one feels.

After breakfast one morning I went up on deck to get some fresh air. The water was splashing over the deck in places and the boat was going up and down so I could hardly stand up. Then all of a sudden I felt dizzy and grabbed hold of something to keep from falling. Everything around me seemed to be moving in all directions, and my stomach started doing flip flops, and a big knot formed in my throat. My, what an awful feeling! I first lost my breakfast and then everything else down there and still I was -- well, you know, if you've ever been there! Luckily someone came by and helped me down to my bunk where I stayed until late the next day. After that I was fine for the rest of the trip.

APRIL 13, 1943: MEDITERRANEAN

On the eleventh day we were told that we were near the west shore of North Africa. At that time a large part of our convoy began to move away to land at Casablanca. The rest of us continued on toward Gibraltar. On the morning of the twelfth day as we were finishing our breakfast, our ship came to a halt. We hurried up on deck to see what was going on. A small boat had tied up to us and we could see on our right the shores of Africa; on the left we could see in the distance far away the rock of Gibraltar. I took a few pictures that did not turn out very well, but I still have them. After the business below with the port authorities ended, we continued on our way.

The British Corvettes that had been our escorts for the last two days had turned to sea. We were now in the Mediterranean, which no German U-boat would dare enter! Later in the day, April 13, 1943, our ships arrived at the docks of Oran, Africa. After roll call and a head count, we boarded trucks and headed out of town for several miles. There in the countryside in some rolling hills, we put up pup tents and spent our first night. About the only thing I remember were rocks that lay beneath my blanket, the unusual smell in the air that I later found out was a mixture of grapes, olive trees, and the burning wood of outside cooking fires. I also remember being wakened during the night by airplanes above. We were told these were German recon planes trying to find out what was going on and nothing for us to worry about.

It was nice to be back on land and rid of the continuous movement of the ship. Although the land was hard and rocky, it didn't prevent me from getting a good night's sleep, and it never moved! My thought was how lucky I was to be in the army and not a sailor at sea!

DAY THIRTEEN: RABAT BY BOXCAR

The next morning trucks came to pick us up. Here things appear to get somewhat hazy. I do recall riding by rail in boxcars (8x48) direct to Rabat. The T-Patch issued November 25, 1944 states, “19 April, 1943: The T-Patchers set foot on foreign soil for the first time—Oran, Algeria. Mountain training followed at Magenta, and then a long overland trip to Morocco for more training near Rabat. Oran, Magestogenem, Rabat and Casablanca—all had been cities good to the men of Texas, and passes had come often. Then from the ports from which they had first glimpsed, the dough-boys of the 36^th turned their backs on Africa and once again steamed out into the blue Mediterranean.”

Speaking for myself, as well as those I knew, the entire 36^th Division traveled by land direct from Oran to near Rabat in Morocco. There in a large sandy cork forest we put up six-man tents and remained for most of five months. As I recall we were told that we were there to assure the Germans would not attempt to cross over the straits from Spain. We spent a lot of time in sports, mainly volleyball and softball. Each of the batteries had their own teams and we competed with each other. A lot of time, though not officially, was spent throwing knives into the cork trees. (We called them stopper trees.)

My little group did do some special training with our four 50-caliber machine guns. Mounting them on rings attached to the top roofs of trucks, we made kites made by me for targets. It was good anti-aircraft practice, using every fourth shell as tracers. Even so it was most difficult to damage a kite darting every direction up on the end of a string.

TRUCKING FROM CASABLANCA TO TANGIER

Sometime during the stay there I was given a special task assignment. It seemed there were a lot of things in Casablanca that needed to be in far-off Tangier. As part of my training back in Fort Bowie, Texas I had to take driving lessons on our 2-1/2 ton trucks with trailers. After completing the lessons, I was awarded a certificate, which went on my record.

The trip to Casablanca and North Africa would involve driving day and night with short stops to eat, thus requiring an assistant driver. The convoy would require many trucks with two wheel trailers and would consist of a lead jeep, a kitchen, and a wrecker with parts would follow.

In Casablanca we were directed to the docks where we loaded up our truck and trailer with K Rations and hard rock candy from a British freighter. My driver, a PFC, had only recently been assigned to a truck and had little experience, which led to our falling behind, trying to catch up, and, of course, an accident. It happened as we rounded a curve going too fast and the trailer swung over too far and the truck’s back wheels ended up on gravel and we slowly turned over on our side. I still remember sliding on our left side down the side of the road with dust flying everywhere. We finally stopped just short of a bridge being guarded by two cool black soldiers. Our trailer was still hanging on but was partly down the side of a mountain. With the help of the two soldiers, we both got out through the right side door, which was above us. I didn’t have a scratch and Cunningham had only a small cut above his left ear. We had lost most of our load, the trailer sideboards were mostly gone; our truck had lost all the windshield, the left door was crushed and barely hanging on, and oil was leaking out. I still remember after all these years: what an awful, ugly sight! There is no doubt that the heavy iron mounting above the cab for the 50-caliber machine gun saved us!

Within an hour extra help needed by our wreckers arrived, and in another hour we were back on wheels with the left door removed, new oil added, and about one half of our food recovered. I don't recall how long it was before we caught up or when we arrived at the docks.

HUMAN CARGO BACK TO CASABLANCA

After unloading we were advised we had cargo to take back to Casablanca. It turned out to be prisoners of war (PWs). When our truck arrived at the PW camp a few hours later, we were met by a group of bewildered and awed people that were surprised to see such junk still able to drive. A few of our own people, plus the MPs and the PWs looked in amazement to see Cunningham and I were perfectly alive even with the truck and trailer looking so bad. One of our well experienced ammo drivers, Lee Lambert, liked what he saw and asked Cunningham if he would change trucks with him until we got back home. Lee was a happy-go-lucky type and a friend of my brother Burl. Cunningham readily agreed as he had had enough of the kidding and attention.

After all the excitement, the MPs asked us to move out of the line to the right. The plan was that prisoners would be loaded into the truck with two MPs as guards in the trailer. It was decided that our trailer was no longer safe for the guards and our truck would carry one half load of Italian PWs. These PWs had been told they were going to the US and there was no way they wanted to escape. With Lee driving and a group of happy, friendly PWs in the back, it was a happy venture back to Casablanca. A few of the PWs could speak pretty good English and they teased us by repeating, "You are going to Germany to fight the Bush and we are going to the States on vacation until the end of the war." Lee and I changed places in the front, and each of us took a turn visiting the PWs in the back. I could write much more about my five months in Africa, but will stop after adding that I had my first drink of Scotch whiskey on a British freighter in Casablanca with some British sailors and my first cup of sweet creamy tea served by Italian PWs around a fire somewhere in Algeria. I can say that the Scotch whiskey was awful, and I can't stand that taste, but the company of the sailors is still remembered. I still love hot sweet creamy tea and drink it often the same way I did back in 1943. Not bad for a poor country boy on his first visit on foreign soil!

TIME TO LEAVE FRIENDLY SOIL

Not long after returning to the stopper trees near Rabat, we got orders to pack our gear and get ready for another adventure. This time we were returning to Oran to board another ship and we knew our landing would not be on friendly soil! Sicily, Italy had just been taken by our troops without serious resistance. Maybe we would be so lucky and would be ready to stop playing war games! This time it would be real.

LANDING AT SALERNO

As soon as our ship left the Oran dock, we were told that the landing place we had been training for so long was Salerno, Italy, several miles south of Naples. D-day was 9/9/43, "H" hour was 3:30 a.m. We would be leaving ship no closer than 10 miles from shore. The 50-caliber machine guns were mounted on trucks on another ship and would land later with the two rocket launchers assigned to my group. My instructions were to help hold the beach and to join the rest of the battery when it came ashore.

The color of the net for debarking down the side and the wave number that would group us before starting ashore would be given later. This would be our first time ever to climb down a net from a ship at sea loaded down with full pack, equipment and food to last 10 days. Our life jackets were to be left on the beach.

I don't believe anyone got much sleep during the night before landing. I felt a tad alone as most of my friends who had been with me so long were on other vessels capable of going ashore to land their men and cargo. At some time past daylight we were called through the loudspeakers to lay up to the blue net. One could see the shore in the distance and could tell why our wave number was so late. Our infantry was having trouble, as well as our landing boats. The Germans were not caught completely by surprise.

It finally came our time to lay up to the blue net. Looking down several floors below, the 20 foot wide net below was full, with each GI trying to stay close to the one below. A rough sea was the problem, with deep swells causing the Higgens' boat to rise up and down. Each person had to time himself to turn loose of the net at the right moment or find himself falling on the men below or the boat coming up under him fast, smashing him against the ship. Certainly, our training manual never covered this maneuver but with the help below, we finally pulled away to join our wave, which was circling round and round waiting for a full wave. It was then all boats formed a line (wave) and headed toward shore full speed. As our wave got closer to shore, our wave began to break apart with each one to pick a spot of its own choosing. Our boat finally headed straight for shore and at some point threw out its anchor, and we came to a stop on a sandbar near shore. The front opened up and we lurched through shallow water and up the beach, looking for a safe place to take cover.

A hundred yards or so from the sandy beach we found several foxholes that had been vacated by the men landing before us. All around us were discarded kinds of equipment and many yellow life jackets. Only one dead soldier was noted a few yards away. He was an officer from an anti-aircraft unit and I wondered what could have happened and why had he arrived before me! His helmet was next to him and I saw no sign of him being wounded. What made this so astonishing was that he looked exactly like a red-headed cousin that lived on an onion farm near McKinney, Texas! I can't explain why this event has stayed with me all these many years. Later on I began to feel like he must have been attached to the first landing troops as a forward observer to direct fire for the many big guns of the Navy ships that continued to shell German targets above us.

There were a few adventures there near the beach before my unit was able to come ashore. I soon found out we had not landed on Blue Beach but at a place more favorable to the Navy crew bringing us in. My first action after landing in the foxhole was to assure my gun was in working order. In an attempt to put a shell in the chamber, the gun started firing! This little problem was caused because some time during the last hours I was assigned a 45 caliber submachine gun that I had never fired before.

Such guns were usually assigned for fast close-in fighting by tank, half-track, and special assignment crews. I found out quickly that it was unlike any rifle or revolver I had been trained with. I also found out that it was not designed for foxholes or similar environment as it jammed when affected by sand or dirt. I exchanged it for a 45 caliber pistol with holster that was more suitable for my duties as a corporal over four 50 caliber machine guns and two bazookas (rocket launchers). A little later small arm fire all around me attracted my attention. Looking out I saw a small German tank headed in our direction, not 100 yards away. Then it turned around and headed back the way it had come at full speed and without firing a shot! As it turned out, it was the closest I ever got to a live German tank and I didn't have a bazooka!

Something else that happened while waiting for my unit to come ashore that I will never forget is of interest here. It happened the next day or even the day after that. I can't remember how I got involved or who was working with me but I do remember it took most of one day only. My task as instructed by a unit of the Army Grave Register Department was to assist in moving the dead from 3/4 ton trucks to the grave site. A small bulldozer was busy completing a trench about ten feet wide and eight feet deep. Down about six feet, individual graves of two feet had been dug with a two foot space between each grave, which were seven feet long. This left a three foot space only six feet down to be used as a walkway. We worked in two-man teams to carry each body down a sloping entrance to the walkway and then to the next empty site. The bodies arrived in simple white mattress covers with the open end tied, and as I recall, one dog tag attached. There were at least two Army chaplains, and a Catholic priest that gave each individual service. I've often wondered if these bodies were removed later and shipped back to the US. I never returned to visit this place after that one day.







The next day I located my battery in a staging area just down the beach. I have in my possession a picture of the 36th Division landing at Salerno published by the Fort Worth Star Telegram. This appears to be one of our batteries and the 50 caliber machine gun attached to the roof of the truck in the foreground could be one of the four assigned to me.

This ends Part 5 of the Donnell Hoggatt, Sr., life story and today is July 7, 2008.
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WORLD WAR II MUSIC VIDEO

Below is a video of scenes from World War II featuring popular music of the time. Click on the arrow to start the video.

DONNELL'S LIFE STORY

Part 4

MARRIAGE TO JEAN

My ride back to camp after leaving Jean at the hotel was almost as gratifying as the bus ride with her to Jacksonville. I was completely overjoyed with the thought of being married to Jean before leaving for the war in Europe.

CHURCH WEDDING & HONEYMOON

We met as planned at the St. Augustine bus station. Everything had gone fine with Jean. We arrived at the church she had picked before sundown. Only the preacher, his wife, and one other couple were there. I know it was only a simple ceremony, but to me our wedding was the most emotionally thrilling feeling I had ever experienced. I was so choked up; I could hardly say a word. Thanks to Jean, I finally was able to say my part, and we were man and wife. I was 20, Jean was 21, and the date was July 4, 1942.

We had a great honeymoon of three days at St. Augustine, Florida and took several pictures. On Monday we took a bus back to Camp Blanding. She stayed that night at the camp guest house, and when we said our goodbyes, we had no idea when we would be together again.

SURPRISE ON CONVOY NORTH

A day or so later, the entire 36^th division moved out in one long convoy heading north. We ended up in North and South Carolina for simulated war games that lasted several weeks. It was there that I found out that I was to be a father! Gosh, was I surprised! Jean and I had never talked even one word about us having children. In fact, we were not supposed to get married until after the war. Although we were committed as to the future, we had never discussed rings. I suppose neither of us thought that was important.

TOGETHERNESS THOUGH APART

Another mysterious situation occurred after we suddenly decided to get married, and that was we would tell no one about our new plans; it would be our own secret. Also, unlike several other friends of ours that did get married hastily, we wanted to wait for a real old fashioned wedding. I can only state that things were much different sixty-four years ago and not just because of the war. Whatever the reasons for what we did or did not do, we were harmoniously united and that condition of togetherness never changed.

I still can recall quite well the news from Richland, Texas that Jean was pregnant. While on the phone, Jean told me that her mother wanted to talk to me. Mama York wasted no time getting to the point: she told me that she had been responsible for Jean’s good reputation but now that she was having my child, it was now my responsibility, and Jean didn’t even have a ring!

She was right, of course. This brings back another time when I got involved with that redheaded mother of Jean’s. It happened just a few months after Jean and I met, when I was in their living room waiting for Jean to get dressed. She came in stating that she needed to talk to me and quickly said that her baby girl had informed her that she was in love with me and what were my intentions? Whatever I was able to say must have satisfied her completely as we had a great relationship. I could never have had a better mother-in-law or a more interesting one!

During this conversation by phone in August 1942, I told Jean that rings would be sent as soon as I had a chance to buy them. She didn't seem very concerned about the rings as much as her mother but was most happy that she was carrying our child.

A BOX MAILED TO RICHLAND

A little later we had a break from our war games and were given passes to town. After walking around for a while, I told my two friends, Clinton Shelburne and Dean Jones, that I wanted to find a jewelry store to buy something for Jean. When I told the clerk that I wanted to look at ladies rings, she asked what I had in mind and I answered wedding rings. My two friends thought I was joking and went along for a while. Then when I found what I wanted, they tried to get me out of the store and told the clerk that I wasn't even married yet but was just looking. Actually, we had visited a bar where a lot of the others had gathered and had a drink or two, but I quickly advised them that I had never been more sober in my life, that I was really married and, in fact, Jean was pregnant. I think that convinced them, and before we left for camp, a box had been mailed to Jean to Richland, Texas.

There was one person in our unit that knew I was married, and that was our battery clerk. I had previously signed papers authorizing my pay and our marriage benefits be sent to Jean Hoggatt at Richland, Texas.

TRAIN TRAVEL & WARTIME TRAINING

After tearing up a lot of North and South Carolina with our trucks, cannons, half-trucks, etc. we were off again, still heading north. This time we were all loaded on trains, mostly flat cars, on our way to Cape Cod, Mass. It was there that we were to complete our training on how to transfer from a big ship at sea to the beaches of some distant land.

Nothing like this had ever come close to such a difficult task as the one we were to prepare for. Gains had been made in landing crafts for unloading men and equipment and it was to be our task to try out the new equipment on a large scale. It was an unexpected treat riding the train through Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New York and Massachusetts. Somehow people knew we were coming and were along the tracks for many miles to greet us. We were able to move to the flat cars with our trucks and engage the openness and closeness of all the people. They had all kinds of finger foods and fruit and tried to pass it up to us but were not always successful. Although the train slowed down, it never stopped completely, probably for good reasons. Some of the pretty girls handed up notes and cards, giving their names and addresses and wanting pen pals.

CAMP EDWARDS, MASS. BECOMES HOME

I don't recall how long we were on the train, but we finally came to Buzzard's Bay, Mass., and the little town of Onset. We passed over a long, long bridge that separated the mainland from the island. Only a few more miles down the track was Camp Edwards. There we unloaded all our equipment and drove through the camp hoping that we would now enjoy living in one of the many barracks, but it was not to be. We ended up a few miles out of camp in the woods where our tents were waiting for us. This was to be our new home for the next several months, including most of the winter.

Assigned to Defense of the Battery

After leaving Camp Blanding my assignment as battalion dispatcher ended and there would be no more required trip tickets as the assigned driver and his immediate supervisor would be responsible for each vehicle. My new assignment, including the four men under me, was the security or defense of the battery. I was assigned four 50 caliber machine guns and two 3" bazookas. The machine guns were fashioned for anti-aircraft as well as ground support; all our 2-1/2 ton trucks were mounted with a heavy steel ring on the roof just above the rider's side of the truck. This permitted the gun to rotate 360 degrees as well as fire at any level above the level of the truck. There also was a tripod for ground action. Each gun could be removed from one to the other in just a few minutes. A cover was provided for the opening when the gun was not mounted on the truck.

Amphibious Training First

Our special training started the day after our arrival and there would be no rest for the tired and weary. Our amphibious training came first with classes on waterproofing all vehicles. There were two areas of concern that needed waterproofing up to around four feet from the ground: the engine and the tailpipe. A special type of gummy/sticky substance was provided to cover the engine. Pipe fittings were used to extend the tailpipe back over to the side and up. Hopefully, the water would be shallow near the beach. Steel mats were to be used to get through the sandy beaches.

Much of our past training had to be retuned, both as to new/revised equipment and conditioning our bodies and minds to all kinds of weather and under a more war-like environment. We knew by now that it was the Germans and Italians that were to be our enemies.

105 mm Cannon, 30 & 50 Caliber Guns & Bazookas

As for myself, I no longer needed the training and experience of firing the 105 mm cannon but concentrated on the 50 caliber gun and the bazookas. To defend from enemy aircraft I had to learn much more about our own planes and those of the British and the enemy.

During the winter with snow and ice all over, I was assigned to do part of the training of all the troops at Camp Edwards. This was to shoot live ammo over the troops crawling over and through a combat obstacle course of 100 yards. There were four of us stationed to one side. We used 30 caliber machine guns with the barrels about four feet stationary above the ground and mounted on heavy tripods so that neither gun could shoot below four feet and always pointed at a distant target.

This assignment lasted for a couple of weeks. During that time no one was hit by gunfire; there was only one bad injury and it was by one of the training crew. Gene Nutt, a PFC from our battery was blinded when he went to replace an explosive in one of the holes during a break. Apparently, he was not aware that one of the explosives did not go off when it was supposed to! I saw Gene again long after the war. He was with his wife, wearing dark glasses, but otherwise was okay. This was about 47 years later.

An Apartment With Jean

While at Camp Edwards during the winter of 1942, Jean rode up on a train to visit me. I rented a room on the second floor, which was the top floor, of a house with four small apartments. Each one had its own small bathroom but all shared one kitchen. Three of us couples were good friends from Corsicana, Texas. The fourth couple included a mess sargent from outside of the 36th Division. We had some great times together and were lucky to have the mess sargent as a friend because he kept us well supplied with lots of goodies from his company kitchen. We never questioned how he managed these side benefits, but accepted the fact that the army paid for our meals whether we ate at the camp or in an apartment. Married men with wives living near the camp were permitted special passes and we were able to spend most nights and weekends in Onset.

DEATH OF DAD; REUNION WITH BROTHERS

Our good times shared there were interrupted by the sudden death of Dad. I hadn't been told that he was ill and in the P&S Hospital in Corsicana. I was quickly given a pass and train ticket home. Brothers Burl and Billie were also given passes from their Navy basic training from Norfolk, Va. After the funeral we three rode the train together to St. Louis, Mo. It would be nearly three years before we got together again.

Some time in early 1943 Jean returned to Richland, Texas as she was about seven months pregnant. It was a gloomy parting but we both agreed it was best for all. Rumors were spreading that we would soon be contained to camp and there would be no more passes issued.

When I was informed about Dad's death, I was taking another course that was more in line with my new duties. This time it was ranger training, which was the most difficult of any of my army years, both physical and mental. I did not have to complete this course after returning from Corsicana. I often wonder if I could have measured up to the requirements and successfully served in a unit of the Ranger Special Forces. Each member was tested to the full limit of his ability.

I BECOME A FATHER

Some time in late March, 1943 we were alerted that no passes would be given and no contact allowed with those outside camp. We still didn't know the date we would leave or where we would be going. A few days later I got the news that I was now the father of a baby girl named Janell, born on March 27, 1943. The officer that gave me the news allowed one short phone call, with him on the line. (I don't know if all the secrecy was necessary as Jean knew about as much as I did.) I did get to talk to Jean in the P&S Hospital. She and the baby were doing fine, and this high point in our lives together had come and gone successfully. It would be nearly 2-1/2 years before I met my daughter.

ON OUR WAY TO WAR

A few days later we were loaded on a train that ended up at Staten Island, N.Y., where we boarded ship. I still clearly remember waiting in line by number in full dress with pack and our "A bags" on our shoulders. Our "B bags," containing items that would not be needed for some time, were being sent on another ship. Our full names were called out exactly as our last step on U.S. soil was taken. Then as we stepped on the gangplank, we shouted our name, rank, and serial number (mine was ER-20815366).

In the early morning I awoke when I noticed our ship moving and other ships around us moving. It was barely daylight when we reached the deck five floors above. A great feeling came over me as I watched New York and the Statue of Liberty go by. The date was April 2, 1943.

This ends Part IV.

Richard Donnell Hoggatt

DONNELL'S LIFE STORY

Part 3

This is Part 3 of my story as I lived it over the first 85 years. (Part 1 starts at the bottom of the page.) Many of these historical events were reconstructed from photos, letters, and such that I have in my possession. Some facts came from family members, others solely from my memory.

HIGHPOINTS OF MY LIFE

There were lots of good things that happened in Corsicana that I have already addressed. There were two very important major events that I chose to delay until now. Both were the highest points of my life that gave me purpose and direction as to how to live my life. These were: 1) attending Calvary Baptist Church, and 2) meeting my future wife.

CALVARY BAPTIST CHURCH

The Ted Hoggatts and the Dillards were always solid Southern Baptists. They went to church regularly and took their children with them. They accepted the standards without question and passed these beliefs on to their children. This commitment came to an end when we moved to Colorado. During the 18 months we were there, we had no opportunity to attend church because the nearest church at that time was in Rifle, a distance of 30 miles. Since we had no car and our horses were only workhorses, we were unable to make the trip.

Daddy always had at least one horse for his work and sometimes two, depending on the time of the year. He was a farmer though, not a cowboy. His main duties in Colorado were irrigation, tending to the cow feed stock during the spring and summer, and feeding and taking care of the cattle during the cold winters. This was the way of life for most of those living on Piceance Creek in 1931. Since going to church was out of the question, there was very little social life.

While in Waxahachie, we had gone to the church near the cotton mill until it closed. Then we went to the big First Baptist Church near downtown. Things were never the same until we moved to Corsicana.

GETTING BAPTIZED

I don’t know if it was just luck or Dad found a church to his liking and then found a vacant house nearby. As it happened, Calvary Baptist Church fit our needs perfectly and was only three blocks down the street. Us kids were baptized there, which was a very special time in our lives. I am proud to still have in my possession an old black Bible that has on its front page, “Holy Bible, Presented to Donnell Hoggatt from Senior S.S. Class of Calvary Church.” On the front of the next page in my handwriting of long ago is this: “Grandmother Allie Aurelia—Pope Hoggatt, born Feb. 6, 1872 in Fayette Co., Texas, daughter of Salem Pope and Molly Ann Whitley.”

FINDING MISS DAISY

Another happy time for us all, with due credit to the church, involved Dad. There was this very charming lady that sang in the church choir. She was so well respected by all that she was known only as “Miss Daisy.” Dad had never paid special attention to any woman since Mother died. It just happened that Miss Daisy lived between our house and the church. Things got more interesting at church after Dad met Miss Daisy. The two made a great couple and were married soon after I left Corsicana for Camp Bowie.

MEETING JEAN

The other special event, besides those involving Calvary Church, was, I believe an act of fate: I met the girl destined to be my wife.

The P & S Hospital and the nurses’ quarters were just down the street from the church. Just by chance, I happened to be near there one night when an ambulance rushed in after an accident. I ran over to see what happened and before I knew it, I was helping out, getting the injured into the operating room, etc. After that, when I heard the ambulance coming, I would dash for the hospital in case I was needed. That is the way I met the head nurse (soon to be the administrator) of the new nursing program. This caused me to be invited to the first party given for the students of the new training program. I really didn’t want to go but finally followed through on my promise to the nice lady in charge.

I was introduced to several ladies, and then it happened! This very attractive girl kept hold of my hand and stared me straight in the eye. I had never had anyone look at me like that, and my heart was completely out of control. She acted as though she already knew me, and she quickly tried to put me at ease. I thought she had made a mistake, but she quickly corrected that.

Jean York was one that wasted no time expressing herself; one always knew how one stood with her. By the time I left that night, we had agreed to meet the next day, a Sunday. I left a little stunned but thrilled that this pretty lady was so interested in me. To this day, I’m still amazed but elated that she saw something in me that I didn’t know I had. I like to believe that she was right! We saw each other almost every day and I went out to meet her family, which consisted of: her mother and father, Sam and Julia York; her brother Robert; and her older sister Ruth. Her oldest sister Nan had already married and left home. Ruth was also in the nurses training program with Jean.

FUTURE LOOKS GOOD

By the time I left Corsicana with D Battery, 132 Field Artillery Battalion in January of 1941, we knew that we would share our lives together. We were two happy people and not a bit concerned about the future. In fact, it looked pretty good to both of us. Camp Bowie was only 170 miles west of Corsicana, so I could come home almost every weekend. Our tour of duty was supposed to be for one year, and we were not concerned about the U.S. getting into the war in Europe. (Pearl Harbor didn’t happen for another year.)

On the bright side, I would never have to pick cotton again or work at the cotton mill, as the army was better than that. Jean was also excited about her training to be an R.N. We were both looking forward to our future together. Our first Christmas together in 1940 was a very happy one.

The year 1941 passed fast, with me coming home often. Even better, Dad brought Jean to Camp Bowie one weekend. My first year in active service came up in November 1941, and we were given a one-year extension, with a few exceptions. Those that were married and those over a certain age were allowed to go home. Many did.

BUT THEN . . .

Then an event changed our way of life and our future together. I was at home on a weekend pass, from retreat on Friday to roll call on Monday morning. That Sunday morning, Jean and I were sitting in her parents big Buick parked in their front yard just talking and listening to the radio. The music stopped with a special announcement: the Japanese was attacking Pearl Harbor! The order came that all armed forces were to report immediately to their stations: all leaves were cancelled. The war had now started for us and we were in for the duration.

PROMOTED TO CORPORAL

Although our training was rigorous and the 36th Division had participated in the great maneuvers in Louisiana, we were permitted passes and could wear civilian clothes when not on duty. Also during the year, I had been promoted to corporal, the first rank of a noncommissioned officer. Now I no longer had to walk guard duty, serve K.P. or do many other duties that required physical work. I was transferred to Supplies and Ammunition Battery and put in charge of a function of the 133 Field Artillery Battalion Motor Pool with the title of Battalion. Dispatcher. I now had some authority for the first time ever! My main duty was to assure that no vehicle left the motor pool area without proper approval and that it was returned when upon completion of duty. The form used was called a “Trip Ticket.” I had an office much like a service station from which I issued oil and gas and completed a few weekly/monthly reports. This was a real “gravy train,” and the men assigned to me got out of a lot of long marches, drills, and etc. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long. The war machine had things much more important in store for me.

WELCOME TO FLORIDA

In February 1942 the 36th Division left Camp Bowie in one long convoy, no Trip Ticket needed, headed to Camp Blanding, Florida for what we thought would be amphibious training. Our fist night out was near Buffalo, Texas. We just pulled off beside the road in mid-afternoon. It wasn’t long before we had company: lots of people from Corsicana-way. Jean, of course, came with several other ladies. It would be over five months before I would see her again.

During our first year of training, several things had changed within the 36th Division. We went from a four-combat square division to a three combat triangle division. This was to give us better mobility and provide us with better defense. Also, our 75mm cannons, pre-WWI, were replaced with new 105mm cannons, giving us more firepower.

CAMP BLANDNG - TROPICAL TENT CITY

While living in Camp Bowie, we stayed in square tents placed over wood frames. The same arrangement was waiting for us at Camp Blanding. Our new “tent city,” unlike the West Texas setting was tropical and very well located. We were 45 miles west of Jacksonville and about the same distance from the beautiful beaches of the old city of St. Augustine: not a bad place to spend our next five months.

Our training wasn’t as bad as that at Camp Bowie. We had weekly field trips and the weather was perfect compared to that hard, cold winter in Texas. Our amphibious training turned out to be mostly swimming and exercises at the nearby lake, not a bad way to spend the mornings. Of course, there was some type of training involving many hours all week but we could usually expect weekend passes, mostly spent in St. Augustine.

Jean and I wrote letters weekly and had phone calls often. She wanted to come to Florida, as we knew my time in the U.S. was running out. It was no secret that we would be leaving in July and would not return to Florida. I wasn’t sure her coming was the thing to do but I didn’t say no either.

JEAN TO FLORIDA = MARRIAGE

Then it happened! I was sound asleep when the C.Q. (Charge of Quarters) woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me that a lady was at the main entrance to the camp being held by the guards and was asking for me. I knew it was Jean and told the C.Q. to tell the guards that I would be over soon. I was surprised she was there but happy she came all that way to see me.

We caught the next bus to Jacksonville and were the only ones on the bus. Yes, of course, we sat on the very back seat! I guess one would say that this was romance, and I don’t know how it happened but before we got halfway to town, we agreed to get married. Jean seemed to have all the answers and our plans were complete in less than an hour. The weekend coming up was July 4, and I was getting a three-day pass. She would take the bus the next day to St. Augustine and make all the arrangements. We would meet at the bus station on Friday at 6:30 p.m. and take a taxi to wherever we were to get married. It was very simple. I checked her into a hotel near the bus station and caught the next bus back to camp in time for roll call! All this on a four-hour pass! Two people were in love and very happy.

This completes Part 3. Donnell, 11/17/06.

DONNELL'S LIFE STORY

Part 2

This is Part 2 of my story as I lived it over the first 85 years. (Part 1 starts at the bottom of the page.) Many of these historical events were reconstructed from photos, letters, and such that I have in my possession. Some facts came from family members, others solely from my memory.

LIVING WITH GRANDMOTHER DILLARD

Part 1 began with the birth of my granddad William Lee Hoggatt on December 27, 1855. Lee died May 2, 1895. He was the son of Jacob and Mary Cooper. Part 1 ended in May 1932, soon after my family returned to Texas from Colorado. Bonnie was 15, Burl was 13, I was 11, Billie Ted was 9 and Baby Joyce was three months.

We were happily received by those still living with Grandmother Dillard in a rather large but old house in Waxahachie. Like most rented houses, it was in need of paint and a few repairs. To us, though, it was like Paradise compared to what we had been living in. We now had electricity, running water, gas for cooking and heating, and even a bathroom with hot water. Still, it was semi-rural, possessing a pigpen and a couple of cows. Also, we did the laundry in a big black pot in the back yard.

Living with Grandmother were Uncle Tince, Aunt Ruby and Durl Wilson, her son of around six years old. Several things happened while we lived there. Dad went back to work at the cotton mill; Durl left to live with Uncle Buford and Aunt Ethel on the farm and Tince got married; then Aunt Ruby got married. Then a very sad thing happened: our little baby sister Joyce died with pneumonia on December 11, 1933. Not long after that, Grandmother Dillard, Dad, Bonnie, Burl, Billie Ted and I moved to Holland Ave., just a few blocks away.

DEPRESSION WORSENS

We lived on Holland Ave. for probably two years. The Depression got worse during that time. Burl lied about his age and joined the CCC. The cotton mill closed, leaving Dad with no work. He was too proud to accept help from the relief program (WPA). We managed for a while with a lot of “cotton picking” and what few small jobs Dad could get. Us kids gathered pecans for one cent a pound. Two-hundred pounds was our best for an eight-hour day at the pecan orchard next to the Waxahachie Cemetery.

One of the things I remember was the way we paid for the natural gas used for heating and cooking. The gas meter used for billing purposes was adapted to the low financial conditions of that time. It had an attachment that required quarters be inserted before gas could pass through. Then, to protect the safety of the quarters inside, a strong box as built around the meter with a big lock on the door. If the gas suddenly went off, someone had to dash out with quarters and a key to turn the gas back on.

MOVE TO CORSICANA

Finally, Dad got a job weaving at the Corsicana Cotton Mill, which had not closed. Suddenly, we moved to Corsicana, which was about 35 miles south of Waxahachie. Although the mills rented out company-owned houses around the plant to their workers, Dad rented a house a half mile away in a more favorable environment. As for back as I can remember, the Ted Hoggatts never lived on what was referred to as the “Cotton Mill Block.”

NEW TOWN HAS SKYSCRAPER

We were now living in the big city of Corsicana, which was somewhat larger and more modern than Waxahachie. Our former town had been dependent on farming, but Corsicana had farming plus other industry such as shallow oil wells all over the area and a large Magnolia gas/oil/etc. pump station. Our new town was also known to have a skyscraper. We couldn’t wait to go up Main Street to the State National Bank Building and ride the elevator all the way to the top—nine or ten stories as I recall. None of us had ever ridden in an elevator or seen a building so high. That building still stands, a showplace for that era. It still means a lot to me and I never miss an opportunity to see it when going through Corsicana.

BONNIE AND I PERFORM ON KAND

The first radio station (KAND) for that area was in the basement of the State National Bank Building. A year or so later, Bonnie and I performed there a couple of times. She and I had taken guitar lessons back in Waxahachie: she on the steel and me on the standard. Our playing together ended when she met Vernon Hagler, a farmer who lived a few miles out of town in the Mildred-Eureka area.

One may wonder how Bonnie and I took music lessons, things being so bad economically. This is how it happened: I had always wanted to play the guitar so I caddied at the Corsicana Country Club on weekends to pay for my lessons. Since things were also bad for music teachers, I got a free second-hand guitar and 30 lessons for $30. Bonnie paid for one lesson at a time with milk and butter. She was also given a free used guitar. I went on to play on KAND for a short time in a band called the Buccaneers.

FOUR MAN BAND

Our little four-man band played at a few dances, although none of us knew how to dance or ever tried to. Other than that we played at several beer joints along Main Street on Saturday nights. We would go in and do four or five songs, pass a hat around, and then go to the next bar. Most of the time we just liked to get together and practice, nearly always at Jimmy Morris’ house. Jimmy was an only child and his parents loved for us to meet there. We were all around 15 or 16 years old and not interested in the girls, just graduating from Junior High school. The picture here is one of JC Parnell, Jimmy Morris, and lil’ old me at the graduation.

Things were not too bad, but we still picked cotton during the fall and helped Dad pay the bills. Dad got me a part time job at the mill on the swing shift. I made 25 cents an hour filling batters, sweeping, and cleaning bobbins in the weave shop. I didn’t like working there at all. I didn’t complain to Dad but made a promise to myself that I would never work there full time. My happiest time was when the boss told me that I wasn’t needed that night!

TEXAS NATIONAL GUARD

Around this time I joined the Texas National Guard stationed in Corsicana. As a private I made $l.00 each night we drilled, which was once each week and two weeks at camp each summer.

BONNIE AND VERNON MARRY

Bonnie and Vernon married and Bonnie moved out to the farm. She was one happy sister to finally be a full time housewife and have her very own family. She and Grandmother Dillard got along fine but I know she was ready to marry and be on her own. I visited her regularly and worked out on the farm several times when they needed help. Bonnie was happy. Bonnie and Vernon had three sons: Larry, Jerry and Vernon, Jr. (called Pete). All are still living today and have families. Vernon served in the Navy for a while during World War II but never left the U.S. Bonnie was able to stay with him near his base. When discharged, he went to work for Gulf Oil Corp. at Crane, Texas, and the family lived there until Vernon’s retirement. They then built a nice brick retirement home in Kerens, Texas, just a few miles east of Corsicana.

Bonnie lived a devoted Christian life, never varying from the teachings of the Southern Baptist Church. She was very proud of the success of her three sons, but never got her wish to have a little girl. After several years of poor health, she died on January 1, 1991. Vernon died suddenly on February 27, 2002. They are buried side by side, using the same headstone, in the Providence Cemetery, just a few miles from the old Hagler farm where they started out.

BURL AND BILLIE JOIN UP

Burl also got married while we were just getting settled in Corsicana. He married Willie Lee Jones, his first sweetheart in Waxahachie, and they had one child, Ada Lou. Both were too young and too wild for the union to last, and sadly, it ended in divorce. Ada now lives in Englewood, Florida with her husband. Burl and Billie joined the Navy together in 1942. After training in Norfolk, VA, Burl became an anti-aircraft gunner assigned to a merchant ship that delivered war materials to England. After additional medical training, Billie was assigned to an LCI (Landing Craft, Infantry) as a medico and served in the Pacific.

BURL MEETS AND MARRIES GRACE

After the war, Burl met Grace while in the hospital in Dallas for a service-connected illness he got while in the navy. Grace is what Burl needed to straighten out, as he still was restless, disorganized and troubled. On the positive side, he had an uncanny gift to learn all the trade skills rapidly. After his early medical discharge from the navy, he worked in the shipyards in Galveston, had various jobs at welding, house painting, carpentry, and auto mechanics. In all of these, he was most competent but impatient. (I have two of his toolboxes with tools I bought from him in 1947. He needed the money. I didn’t need the tools and still don’t but I wouldn’t sell them – never!)

Grace saw something good in Burl that she liked and thought that all he needed was a good woman to guide, take care of, trust and love him. She soon found out, after the wedding, that she was right: Burl was going to be a keeper!

Burl put all his skills together and became an elevator installer, a very technical trade that required stability and resourcefulness, qualities he never used before. He adopted Grace’s three small children: Wanda Fern, Dale Wayne, and Kedith. Then they had a son together: Ronald. Burl personally built a comfortable house with a large garden and fruit trees, a place anyone would be proud of. They had many happy years together and are buried together in the National Cemetery at Fort Worth, Texas. Burl died on January 12, 2004 and Grace died on September 16, 2005.

This completes Part 2. Donnell, 11/01/06.