After what has been a long and sentimental journey through 4ID’s fight across Europe 70 years ago, this wraps up our year long journey back into 4ID’s history. I hope you have enjoyed reading these blogs as much as I’ve enjoyed writing them.
I will summarize the final exploits of the 4ID before their return to the States, include some pictures and stories from my War Stories book that you will enjoy, and then ride off into the sunset.
And since we have come full circle, I encourage you to go back to www.warstories.deedspublishing.com and read our first blog as we once again come up on the anniversary of The Longest Day – D-Day, June 6, 1944 – 71 years later. It is my plan to leave all of these blog posts online forever so anyone who wants to read about the 4ID in WWII, it is simply a click away. I encourage you to share this link with anyone you think might be interested.
For those of you who like to read War Stories about the 4ID in WWII – I encourage you to click on the books shown to the right of this blog and order one or both of them. They are available in paperback and in e-book. And with Father’s Day just around the corner – maybe the favorite man in your life would enjoy books for Father’s Day instead of something else.
Now, let’s wrap the year up…
In May and June 1945, 4ID and all other Allied units went from offensive operations to becoming an occupying force. This was a new mission, one that they quickly adapted to. Much needed rest was had by all, some troops were sent home early, and others prepared for the long haul of occupation duty.
But that was not to be the mission of the 4ID for long. MG Blakely received orders that he and his division were needed elsewhere. They had been selected to participate in the invasion of Japan. I’m sure that he and all in the division dreaded what was ahead of them… preliminary estimates were that there would be at least one million casualties in an assault on Japan. But, the old military adage took control, “It’s not for me to reason why, it’s but for me to do or die,” and the 4ID headed for Le Harve, France and a troop ship back to the United States where they would take a leave before beginning preparation for the invasion of Japan.
Landing in the US at the Port of New York on 10 July 1945, the 4ID soon spread to the four winds as they took much deserved 30 day leaves before reporting back to Camp Butner, NC. Thankfully, while they were in leave, the atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, forcing the Japanese to surrender, thus ending WWII.
Read on for some stories of this time period from my War Stories book, and some pictures you will enjoy.
Cal Grose (Deceased), Chapel Hill, NC, Medical Detachment, 3rd Battalion, 22nd Infantry Regiment
The war had ended and we were put up in a tent city around Nuremberg for a little R&R before going back to Paris to turn in our vehicles. The enlisted men had their section in tent city, and the officers had theirs. One day a captain came into my tent and ordered me to give up my cot. Being just a buck sergeant, I did so, but I did ask him why. He said they were looking for someone to be “Officer of the Day,” and he wanted to hide so they could not choose him.
You notice I did not mention the officer’s name, but I hope after this we will still be good buddies, because he is the brother I never had, and we have remained friends to this day—sorry, Sam Barrett (Regimental Dentist). (Editor’s Note: Doctor Sam Barrett, who I became friends with, died earlier this year.)
Albert Schantz, Reading, PA, Company A, 1st Battalion, 22nd Infantry Regiment
We continued to force the Krauts back toward the east: First, to Rothenburg, then south and southeast through Crailsheim, Heidenheim, across the Danube River on April 25, 1945, then on to Wolfratshausen and Bad Tolz near the Bavarian Alps. We were six miles from the Austrian border when we received word that the Germans surrendered on May 8, 1945.
Morale increased when we learned about the surrender. There was a party mood, but we were glad the war was finished. We were looking forward to going home. Plus, there were no party “fixins” available anyway.
May 8, 1945, was declared “VE Day” (Victory in Europe Day). I remember that day very well. It snowed about eight inches, and we were occupying farmhouses. When we took over a house we forced the German occupants to sleep in the barn, and we slept in their beds. I slept in a bed with a straw mattress covered with a feather-filled quilt. The houses were attached to the barn so that the heat from the animals and the manure heated the house in winter.
A few days after VE Day, we boarded army trucks and rode north through Munich, across the Danube River, to Amberg, then west to Ansbach, Germany, where we took control of a German fort. Here we processed German prisoners of war and discharged them so they could return to their homes. I was able to act as an interpreter for Germans who spoke no English, since I knew “Pennsylvania” German.
The worst war damage that I saw was in Munich, Germany. Munich must have been a beautiful city with statues in the middle of each intersection in the center of town. Many buildings and statues were bombed to rubble. It was sad….War is hell. There were very few people on the streets and sidewalks for a city of that size. One of my desires is to visit Munich now that it is rebuilt.
On June 23, 1945, we left Germany for Le Havre, France, in railroad boxcars. This mode of transportation was known as “40 and 8” in WWI. (Forty men or eight horses in a boxcar).
On our way west to Le Havre, our train stopped in a siding in a large railroad yard. I happened to look across several train tracks at another boxcar into a train that was also stopped. There in the open boxcar door was Bobby Walbert from Macungie, Pennsylvania. I knew Bobby from high school. I walked over to him, and we talked for a short time. He was in the 5th Infantry Division and was also headed for Le Havre as well.
Seeing someone familiar from back home was a happy occasion. It eased some of the homesickness.
We arrived in Le Havre on June 30, 1945, and boarded the General James Parker, a liberty ship, for our ride back to the good old USA. The entire 4th Infantry Division sailed on July 3, 1945. We experienced one rough day on the Atlantic Ocean. I didn’t miss any meals, but I couldn’t keep my breakfast down that rough morning. I wasn’t alone at the rail. I was able to eat lunch and dinner without any problems. The ship was crowded, and many of us had to sleep on the open deck under blankets. The night air made us very wet, and we were glad it was summertime.
We arrived in New York Harbor on July 11, 1945. I can still see the Statue of Liberty as she came into view. How wonderful she looked. After we disembarked, the 4th Infantry Division was transported to Camp Kilmer, New Jersey, where a thick delicious steak dinner awaited us. We were then fitted with new uniforms and attended lectures telling us what to expect back in the States.
The army’s plans were to retrain us and ship the 4th Infantry Division to the South Pacific to finish the war with Japan. Thanks to President Truman, who authorized dropping the Atomic Bombs on Japan, ending the War in the South Pacific.
Clarence Brown, Buchanan, NY, 4th Signal Company
At the end of the war I was sent back to somewhere near Nuremberg where we had Italian prisoners digging up cable and German cable men repairing the cable that had been blown apart.
It was from there (with Selective Service points—married, a daughter, Bronze Star, etc.) that they told me that I was on my way home. They flew us from Nuremberg to Metz, France, to Tent City. (It wasn’t really organized.) I then found out what they meant by “40 & 8.” That was a freight car that would hold forty men or eight horses. We rode them for three days until we got to Le Havre…tent city again.
Then on a ship back to the States. Took four days. On board ship I was with a lot of American former POWs. The biggest thrill of my life came as we entered New York harbor. With the fireboat hoses spraying, tugboats blowing their whistles—we all shed a few tears of joy. We had made it back. It was then to Shanks, Dix, and deactivation. I was honorably discharged on my birthday (June 23, 1945) and went home to my wife and family in Buchanan, New York, where we still reside today.
Jim Roan, Fenton, MI, Company H, 12th Infantry Regiment
The motor trip to the coast of France was enjoyable. There were designated stops where camps were set up to handle the troops who were on their way home. Most of the time we were served a hot meal and provided a place to sleep. The meals were served and occasionally cooked by German prisoners of war. In a few locations there were tablecloths, napkins, china dishes, and freshly baked white bread. The Germans were very polite and offered us a variety of food that we had not seen for a long time. Breakfast was usually a treat with bacon and eggs and fresh orange juice. We came to the conclusion that the army, in its way, actually wanted us to re-enlist. They were showing us what we had to look forward to.
Picture this: A long convoy of various army vehicles traveling through a city. Regardless of its size, the lead vehicle would spot a pretty girl walking down the sidewalk. The driver would drive right up onto the sidewalk, and the occupants would all stick their arms out trying to pat the young lady on the derriere and each vehicle following would do the same. I think the young ladies liked it, for no one ran; they would just wave and smile. The GIs would throw them chocolate bars or cigarettes, which we had plenty of.
The ride home on the Sea Bass was uneventful. The ship was an army transport, staffed by U.S. sailors and served American food. It was a long trip, or it just seemed long, for we were all excited about returning home. Some of the troops and officers did not have enough points to immediately be discharged, which made me a very popular guy. We were destined to be one of the outfits that were scheduled to invade Japan. They would pigeonhole you on deck or wherever they could find you and insist that they had a wound, that they saw a medic but it was not recorded, and that the wound was worth five points. We were nice to them and convinced each soldier that we would do all we could to straighten things out, which we did.
As we approached the coast of New York, we passed a number of garbage scows dumping in the ocean, which is normal. Those on deck would exchange words; each vessel would blow their horns as a salute. We reached the harbor to whistle blows, large banners stretched along buildings on the waterfront, and line after line of American gals waving and blowing kisses—a sight to behold.
The New York Fire Department had all their boats out spraying streams of water. Fire engines on the dock all had their sirens blowing and lights flashing. As we exited the boat, Red Cross and Salvation Army gals distributed doughnuts and coffee. They made sure that we felt welcomed.
We were transported via army busses to Camp Shanks and were billeted in barracks…those awful army cots felt mighty good. We were fed things that we only dreamed about, even fresh milk. We spent a lot of time at the Post Exchange, most of the time filling up with hotdogs, hamburgers, gallons of milk, and ice cream. The telephone company had installed zillions of phones, and we waited in line to call home. The lines were long, so we only told the folks we were back home and they could expect to see us soon.
We were granted leave with orders to report to camp on August 30. The entire clan met me at the train station, and it was a fabulous reunion. When I arrived home it was hard to get used to hearing a woman’s voice—they all sounded so high pitched. Dad took me aside and suggested that I button my pants before I ventured outside. I was leaving the house putting in my shirttail, and then I planned on buttoning my fly. During the first thunderstorm I encountered, my reaction was to hit the floor when that clap of thunder sounded.
Double Deucer Newsletter—Aboard USAT James Parker
The Late Major General John Ruggles sent an original copy of the newsletter produced aboard the transport ship James Parker, the day before the 22nd Infantry Regiment got back to New York City, after the end of the War in Europe. Following are some excerpts.—Bob Babcock
ATTENTION ALL TROOPS! Upon arrival in harbor, all troops MUST remain in assigned areas prior to debarkation. This ship is carrying no ballast and uncontrolled movement would develop a list, which would delay docking. Strict compliance is required if troops are to remain above decks.
22nd TO MAKE COLORFUL ENTRY TO US. When the USAT James Parker sails into the harbor tomorrow with the Famous 22nd Infantry aboard, it will be bedecked in its gayest, which will include mammoth banners and campaign ribbons worn by the men on board. These decorations have all been painted during the voyage by a staff of artists headed by Technical Sergeant Jim Bradley of Company K. Others who assisted in this tedious job were: T/5 Joe Krynski, Corporal Vernon McCarty, Private Chester Janusz; all of K Company, and Private First Class Phillip Koff and Private First Class John F. Hammill of the I&R platoon of HQ Company. These decorations will be put in place this afternoon, but will not be unfurled until the entry into the harbor. Included in the decorations will be two large Ivy Leaves, two Boll Weevil banners, two mammoth ETO campaign ribbons, two Fourth Division banners, one famous Double Deucer banner and one bearing only the name “22nd Infantry.” Yes, due to the untiring efforts of Sergeant Bradley and others, the entry will be colorful as well as exciting.
A GUIDE TO THE UNITED STATES. The United States is made up of 47 states, the District of Columbia, Texas, and Brooklyn. To avoid the embarrassment of breaches of etiquette while visiting in this country, the following points should be studied and remembered:
(1) Places known as “hotels” provide accommodations for a night’s lodging when one is not staying with friends. The present practice of entering a house, evicting the occupants bodily, and taking over the premises is frowned upon as being too presumptuous.
(2) Natural urges are apt to occur, even at inopportune moments. Do not grab the nearest shovel in one hand and a roll of paper in the other and head for the garden. At least 90 percent of all American homes have one room called a “bathroom,” which contains a device designed to meet your needs. All you have to do is look worried—these Americans catch on fast and will tell you where to go.
(3) The current medium of exchange in the U.S. is “money,” which consists of “dollars” and “cents.” Silver coins and green paper notes are used and you will find that you can’t get a week’s laundry done for two Tropical Bars and a piece of soap. Cigarettes, however, are reported to be useful in bartering.
(4) In the event the “helmet, steel M1,” is retained by the individual, it should not be used as a chair, washbowl, footbath, bathtub, or kettle for cooking. Every home is equipped with these items. Nor is it in good taste to squat in the corner if all chairs are occupied—the host will provide suitable seats.
(5) American meals consist of several dishes, each in its own container or bowl. The common practice of putting gravy on peaches or mixing chocolate pudding with corned beef to improve the flavor is not considered in good taste. In time, the “separate dish” plan of eating will lose its newness and become enjoyable.
(6) Americans have a strange taste in stimulants, one of the favorites being a mild concoction known as a “Zombie.” Drinks common on the continent, such as green wine, alcohol and grapefruit juice, and gasoline bitters with steel filings (better known as “Calvados”), are not suitable for civilian circles.
(7) Whiskey, a fairly common American drink, may be offered on special occasions. It is considered uncouth and ill-mannered to drain the bottle, cork and all. Exercise control and try to make the bottle last three rounds. If you see it won’t make it back to you, then snatch the bottle and empty it.
(8) In motion picture theaters, seats are provided and helmets are not worn. If vision is impaired by the person in front, there are usually plenty of other seats. Do not hit him across the back of the neck and say, “Move your head, jerk, I can’t see a damn thing.”
(9) Upon retiring, if confronted by a pair of pajamas (a two-piece garment worn in bed) assume an air of familiarity and say, “Goodness, what a lovely shade of blue.” Don’t ever say, “How in the hell do you expect me to sleep in a getup like that?”
(10) There are no air raids or enemy patrols in America, so it is unnecessary to wear a steel helmet. Nor is it necessary to carry a rifle loaded and cocked when talking to civilians.
(11) On leaving a friend’s home after a visit, you may not be able to find your cap. Frequently it has been placed in a small room known as a “closet.” Don’t say, “Don’t anybody move; some #@*?$& eight ball has swiped my cap, could you help me find it?”
(12) Tip your hat before striking a lady.
(13) A guest in a private home is usually awakened in the morning by a light tap on the door. It is proper to say, “I’ll be there shortly.” Don’t say, “Blow it out your B-bag!”
Questions about what to do on furlough had been asked many times aboard the USAT James Parker since the 22nd Infantry Regiment left Le Havre, France. It has been answered many ways, but generally speaking, the average man is looking forward to a period of relaxation with his loved ones and of doing things that could not be done in the ETO.
Following are a few of the varied answers, which have been overheard by The Double Deucer:
Corporal Habichit of Company E is looking forward to the meeting of his four-month-old daughter he has never seen. Other than spending a lot of time with his family, he added that his only plans were to do some horseback riding. Before coming into the army, Habichit was a polo enthusiast.
“I wonder how much Canadian Club it will take to last thirty days?” That was a question being asked by Private First Class Clarence Kothman of Company A, whose home is in Dayton, Ohio. Kothman, a D-Day man, added that he was spending time with his wife and might possibly visit friends in Detroit.
“I’m just going to take it easy,” was the answer given by Private First Class George R. Scott of Headquarters Company, who hails from Atlanta, Georgia. He added very tactfully that his wife might have already made some plans for his time at home.
“I’m planning to spend my furlough with my folks and friends at St. Vincent, Minnesota,” remarked Private First Class Robert Barker of Company G, when asked about his plans. He said he had no set plans for his entertainment.
“I still have time to make plans as I have a long way to travel after reaching the States,” was the answer given by PFC George Whaler of Company A, who will have a trip to Balvoa, Canal Zone, to make before reaching home. Like most others, he added that his furlough time would be spent with his wife. Whaler came to the States and volunteered for army service.
“Boy, it’s wedding bells for me when I get home to Buffalo, New York,” said Sergeant Bob Kawolski, a squad leader in Company A. Then he added that his furlough would be spent honeymooning.
“First I’m going to Louisiana where my wife is living, and then we are going to Kansas City,” remarked Sergeant Good of Company I, who was doing some guard duty on the Sun Deck Sunday.
“With the help of my wife, I’m going home and set up housekeeping, preparatory to an expected discharge,” was Sergeant John Gahl’s opinion. Sergeant Gahl is a member of Headquarters Company, 2nd Battalion and comes from Cincinnati. He has 91 points.
Sergeant Havercroft of Company C will travel to Eugene, Oregon, for his furlough and he says it will be spent with his folks and “just having fun.”
One could notice that Private First Class Joe Smith of Company A, who is planning a furlough with his family in San Antonio, Texas, was already getting nervous. The reason is that the Smiths are “infanticipating” and the event is scheduled during the furlough. His only comment is, “I hope it is a girl.”
“I’m just looking forward to a good time with my wife,” was the plans set forth by a 94-pointer, Sergeant Bagley of Headquarters, 1st Battalion, who comes from Alabama.
“It will be just a nice, quiet furlough,” said Sergeant Seabright of Company E, who is headed for a furlough at his home in Windchester, Maryland.
“With four children, including an eight-month old daughter I have never seen, I imagine I won’t have a hard time finding something to do,” remarked Private First Class Woodrow Stark of Company A, who lives in South Bend, Indiana. He added he still couldn’t understand why that fourth child wasn’t worth twelve points.
Last, this letter to the troops from the Regimental Commander:
TO OFFICERS AND MEN OF THE 22nd INFANTRY: The “Double Deucers” return this mid-July after approximately eighteen months overseas— more than half that time spent in combat. The Regiment has established an enviable record. Listed in its fighting history are such names and accomplishments as: D-Day assault, Utah Beach, Montebourg, Cherbourg, the Hedgerows, St. Lô Breakthrough, Paris, Landrecies, Brandscheid, Hürtgen, Luxembourg, Prüm, the Kyll River, Lauda, Bad Mergentheim, Crailsheim and Tegern See.
The face of the Regiment has changed. It sailed forth in January 1944 fresh and untried. It returns, battle-tested and proud; with a great mission accomplished—a task well done.
You, as individuals, are returning to a grateful country too bent on the furthering of the war with Japan to take time out to welcome you in the true American fashion.
Return to your families and your homes. Spend your furloughs well. Remember that your families “sweated it out,” too, and that it is their furlough as well as yours.
For those of you who are to return to civil life, I wish you Good Luck and God Speed. For those of you who are to return to carry on the traditions and the name of the 22nd Infantry, I need only say, “Carry On.”—And may the seas be smooth.
– John F. Ruggles Colonel, 22nd Infantry
Frank Douglas, Janesville, WI, Company F, 2nd Battalion, 8th Infantry Regiment
Ivan Schwartz and I caught a train out of the Northwestern Station heading for Wisconsin. He to Reedsburg, and I to Janesville. It was a “milk” train that got me to Janesville at 0400 hours. I never saw Ivan again. Like everybody else in the service, you simply knew people for a while and then moved on in your own direction.
There I was at 0400 hours, on the platform of the Northwestern Railroad Depot with my duffel bag. It was only four blocks from home and I, being an old infantryman, simply planned to walk up Academy Street to Ravine for two blocks, then to Terrace Street and finally, three houses down to 326. Mr. Yahn, a local meat market owner insisted on giving me a ride home. “You’re Fenner Douglas’ boy, aren’t you?” he said. “Yes, sir,” I told him, and I got a ride to the front door.
Nobody can ever forget those moments of our homecoming. I had been gone over two years. When I landed on the front porch and rang the doorbell, I heard someone yell, “He’s here!”
The hall light came on and everybody came down the steps. My…the hugs and kisses. Tears… all the excitement. All over America for the next year, millions of people experienced the sheer joy of homecoming. After all the hell and horror, we were once again home. These scenes occasionally had a unique side. Barbara, my little sister, was six years old. I’ll never forget her standing by Yvonne and Bob and asking, “Who’s that?”
Frank was somebody you got a letter from once in a while, not somebody in a strange outfit or uniform standing in your dining room. Thousands of children had never even seen their fathers. Of course, all too many never would. What a mixed bag of emotions surged through all of us. My father, normally a very reserved man, hugged me and stood there with tears in his eyes.
Never again would I or any GI, ever experience a real homecoming that great. As often as I’ve gone on trips, there was never such a high level of joy at coming home as there was that time. How could there ever be, after all that we had been through?
Stan Tarkenton (Deceased), Virginia Beach, VA, Company M, 3rd Battalion, 22nd Infantry Regiment
At a church social, some old biddy approached me and pointed to my Combat Infantryman’s Badge (CIB) and shouted out loud, “Look, girls—here is one who has got an expert rifle shooting award!”
That teed me off. At the time, I thought that since the War was just over, she should have known better. I answered her, “Yes’m…Ah allus hits dat Bull’s eye smack dab in dat Bull’s ass in target practis’n… Yes’m, I sure does dat.”
She said, “I see,” and quickly disappeared.
Bill Boice, Phoenix, AZ, Chaplain, 22nd Infantry Regiment
Passing in Review
From his book, History of the 22nd Infantry Regiment in World War II
At the last formal review on the parade ground at Camp Butner, North Carolina, all sensed this was an historic occasion and certainly the last of its kind for the Famous Fourth in World War II. General Courtney H. Hodges, Commanding General of the First Army, the Belgium Ambassador to the United States, a representative of the French Embassy, Major General Raymond O. Barton, Major General Harold W. Blakeley, and Major General Melborn were guests of honor and present in the stands for the review. The Regiments formed and moved on to the parade ground, in order, the 22nd, the 12th, and the 8th, followed by the Field Artillery, Engineers, and the special troop units. The day was gloomy and there was a slight drizzle as if Nature herself were weeping to watch such an organization die. There was grumbling in the ranks among the new men who had no loyalty to the Division, but there was a stillness that mirrored an ache in the hearts of the old Fourth Infantry Division men.
Colonel John Ruggles, senior Regimental Commander in the Division, was commander of troops.
Combat streamers were awarded to the Colors of the Regiments, and there was a thrill of pride within the heart of each man as the Regimental Colors dipped to receive the ribbons. And then the Belgium Ambassador was introduced. He was a tall, stately man who carried the dignity and the honor of brave Belgium upon his own shoulders. Scarcely had he started to speak when death-like stillness fell over the entire assembled Division. It seemed as if each soldier sensed that here was something he wanted to hear. The Ambassador spoke:
“Belgium learned to love and honor the Fourth Infantry Division in the First World War, when on the banks of the Marne the blood of your men mingled with the blood of our own, and the fierce Huns were stopped. Again, in this war, it was fitting that the Fourth Infantry Division should play so large a part in the liberation of Belgium, who had suffered so much at the hands of the cruel and ruthless enemy. We knew that you would come, and, in that knowledge, liberty still lived within our hearts.
“Belgium salutes the brave men of the Fourth Infantry Division. She salutes Lieutenant Colonel Mabry, Lieutenant Ray, General Roosevelt, and Sergeant Marcario Garcia (Our Medal of Honor recipients). My country has conferred upon the men of this Division the highest honor it is in her power to bestow, and in honoring you, she honors herself. The red of the Fourragere is the blood of your men shed for the liberty and for the freedom of Belgium. The green is for the constant memory of these men and what they did, and so the Fourth United States Infantry Division will always live in the heart of Belgium. Vive la America!”
No one stirred. Somehow, it was fitting. Somehow, it was appropriate that such an honor should come to the battle-weary, exhausted, broken-hearted, proud Division and to her proud Regiments. Then came the order, “Pass in Review.” The men marched stiffly and well even in the mud and drizzle, and as the colors passed by, every person snapped to attention. As each one realized that this was the last time he would march as a member of the famous 4th Infantry Division, there was a stillness and heartache, which can be occasioned only by the death of a beloved friend. “Eyes right.” Heads snapped. The generals looked at the soldiers. The soldiers looked at the generals. Neither saw the other but rather the foxholes and hedgerows of Normandy, the crosses at St. Mére Eglise and Henri Chappelle, the matchsticks and mud of Hürtgen. They saw marching in ranks, in file after file with perfect cadence and deathless spirit, all of the men who were not there. Not there? Certainly they were in the hearts and minds of those who remember, never to forget, in the love of those who would never cease missing them, in the freedom of every American. And so the men marched off of the parade ground and into the cities and villages and farms, office or other army posts. And with them went the 4th Infantry Division. A dead Division? Certainly not. Not so long as a single man still lives and remembers. Sleeping, perhaps, but not dead….
In 1947, the 4th Infantry Division was again called into active service, and has served our nation continuously since then, including Cold War service in Germany in the 1950’s, service in Vietnam in 1966-1970, and service in Iraq and Afghanistan starting in 2003 and ongoing as of this date. Today a brigade of the 4th Infantry Division is the ready reaction force for the Mid-East, serving in Kuwait.
This concludes this year-long trip down memory lane. As I finish this last segment, I sit with tears in my eyes, proud of our great division, and feeling for those who paid the ultimate sacrifice while wearing the Ivy Division patch. I also think of the great WWII 4ID veterans I have been privileged to get to know over the past twenty plus years. Far too many have gone to their eternal reward, but they will always be remembered as Steadfast and Loyal.
I remain, Steadfast and Loyal,
Bob Babcock, President/Historian, National 4ID Association