Well, really the reason I was there, and many of us; they had decided they were going to make a new division. So they singled a bunch of us out, and nearly all of us were from Oakland. And then we went to Hattiesburg, Mississippi, Camp Shelby and started the 65th division in July of 1943. We trained there and at Fort Sale, Oklahoma until Dec 1944. Then we were shipped overseas. We went from Hattiesburg, Mississippi to Camp Upton New York, which is just across the Hudson from the main city. We loaded on a ship there, the USS John Ericsson, which was a Norwegian ship that the United States had taken over since the beginning. It had been the Norwegian ship Kunsholm. (The US basically commandeered the ship, although the Norwegians were very acceptable to it). It took us thirteen days to get to France. We unloaded at Caen (France) but there were no piers – nothing, everything was blown up. So we unloaded in the Bay, climbed down the outside of the ship and loaded into trucks, what they called ducks; they were trucks that had been built to run in water. The wheels acted as propellers, and the bed was waterproofed. So we landed from them, and camp Lucky Strike they called it. This was in the middle of December, and it was cold. Snow was (deep) and we had tents to sleep in, tents pitched in the snow. It was very cold, and we couldn’t sleep because all we had was a blanket, an overcoat, and a shelter half. What they call two shelter halves make a tent to sleep two people. So the first sergeant and myself decided that we didn’t like that. So we got us a jeep and got out into the country a bit and we found a bale of straw. We brought that straw back and made us a bed, right on the snow. You’d be surprised how warm we slept then. Other people started doing it right away.
While we were there, General Patton called all the officers and non-commissioned officers down to Paris. And they told us that he had asked for us and he said “I can have any s.o.b. I want but I chose you.” So we got attached to Patton there, and everybody loaded up, and we got in the trucks to Mets, France. That’s nearly on the border between France and Germany down on the southern end of Germany. And we were there just all of that one day and then that night we loaded up and at a blackout we went up and relieved another outfit that had been in placement at Saarlottern, Germany, and took up positions there, while there wasn’t any really fighting, or battles going on. My job – I was supply sergeant. I had to take care of any people that needed medical attention, what food we had to have for the proceeding week or next day, and what ammunition we needed. And then our HQ was back on a mesa, and I had, instead of a jeep to go in, I had purloined a little, kind of a motorbike. Not really a motorcycle, but bigger than a bicycle. And I would motor back to HQ every morning at about nine or ten o’clock, and turn in my report, and pick up what reports they had to give me. And then I’d go back and was mostly free the rest of the day. But this particular morning I had motored back, got my work done at HQ; on my way down I had to go down a hill about a mile and a half long and just as I got to the edge, you might say hell broke loose. They were shelling the road all the way down. They shelled our positions and ruined the road that I was using, but I got through there all right. I got down and they had torn up our outfit pretty bad. The ambulance was just leaving with two people; my first sergeant and another boy that we had just got in as a replacement. And so they took them off and we kind of straightened up and fired a few shots back at them, of course. Course we had artillery and it was a 105 millimeter, which is a four inch shell that packed quite a wallop. We were about (I suppose) three miles from the front lines. That was just medium range for our guns. But as soon as things settled down the Captain called me in and said, “Sergeant, you’re my First Sergeant now.” And I was kind of taken aback by that, and I said, “Okay, sir, I’ll do the best I can.” He said, “I know you will.” And so I was first sergeant then. And it wasn’t very long till we hooked up our guns and took off. And we went right down to Saarlottern and crossed the bridge, which we had been doing our best to keep open, keeping the Germans from blowing up. We crossed the Saar River into Saarlottern and then took off to the northeast.
It didn’t take very long for us to get to the Rhine, and we had to break there. The army engineers were building pontoon bridges and the Rhine is a big river, like the Columbia. So it took a lot of pontoons to go across that thing with enough safety in them for our trucks and guns and, really, everyone that had to cross. And so we crossed then into, really, Frankfurt. It was Kaiserslautern, but it was just a suburb of Frankfurt, Germany. And then from there we didn’t have any resistance then. From there we went northeast. (Insert map of Germany and France with details, Frankfurt to the north, Rhine to the west of it.) And then from Frankfurt we went northeast toward Berlin. There were many, many little towns as we went up north, with not too much resistance. We would travel through the day and every evening we would go into civilization and sometimes we would have a little trouble, sometimes not.
On the way once, we heard that we were surrounded and so we went into position right next to maybe a five acre forested area. And the captain put our HQ radio and everything right in the edge of the timber there and we were coming around the nose of it. Then I put out outposts - guys went out and dug their fox-holes, with two people here, two people there, around, you know. And around midnight I decided well, I better go check on them. So I went around here and found these people, went back there, and finally found these people. They had radios, so of course they knew I was coming, so it was all right. Then I said, well why do I walk way around that (the forest)? Why don’t I go right through the forest? So I did. I came right through (and even as a kid I never had any trouble telling where I was going. I never got lost in the forest or anything). So I come right through and hit the radio jeep right on the nose. The radio operator was kind of a fellow who, well, shouldn’t have been there. He was just so nervous; he was too nervous. And I just called him, and I said “I’m comin’ in.” And I took a step and his gun hit me right in the belly. And it put near put me down by itself. But he didn’t pull the trigger. So he and I had a good little talk, then.
And that was the end of that, but the next morning we got up and took off again. We got up to a town by the name of Fulda, and between Fulda and Gotha – and that’s where Hitler had his gold stored in some mines there – caves. And right next to that there was a concentration camp named Mauthausen. And that was the first concentration camp I’d seen. And I tell you, that would floor you. But anyhow, right there, we got orders to go south. The Russians had convinced Roosevelt that they needed Berlin, and we didn’t. So we went south and went down through Bamberg, to Regensburg, which means Rainy City. That was – what an experience there. We were most of the night getting through that town but they had a Regensburg Cathedral; beautiful, beautiful place. And luckily, it hadn’t been touched.
But that was where we had the first real airplane protection we had. P-47’s and P51’s. And they made a way through for us. And the next morning, another German decided well, they’re on the road, we’ll strafe them. So he sent a lone plane; he come strafing, and I was in the back vehicle except for the anti-aircraft gun, which was a quad fifty caliber machine gun with twenty millimeter shells. And course they stopped right on the street, houses on both sides, stopped right on the street, and I was in the back of this mechanics truck. They stopped and I bailed out, and here come the plane. I ran around, and just as I got behind that twenty millimeter anti-aircraft gun, they let off a round and knocked me flat, just flat. And I lay there on the pavement and watched this airplane that I could see coming right up the street, little sparkles (strafing, a double line). And it went on both sides of me; never got a scratch, and then I rolled over to the curb and lay there and shook for a while. I was scared, very scared. And I looked and that plane come back, let off another round, and then smoke came from the plane, and he went straight in the air, you could see him bail out, and the airplane just fell. I don’t know who picked the pilot up, but it wasn’t us. We loaded up right then and got out. But that was the end of that.
Then we went from Regensburg, crossed into Austria, and went down to Lentz, Austria. Lentz -beautiful town, but going into to Lentz, we came in from the, well, to me, it appeared like it was from the south side. We came down a hill and there were trees and woods you know, and stuff like that. I was riding with the captain then. There was the driver, the Capt., the artillery officer and myself, and we came down this road – we were going ahead to find a place to set up our guns, and as we went by this barn looking structure, I see green uniforms running, and so I told the driver to stop, and I leaped out, grabbed his carbine out of his scabbard on the windshield, grabbed it out and hollered at these guys. And here they come, thirteen of them. And I told ‘em to disarm themselves, and they threw their pistols down on the ground, and jabbered and jabbered. They had their hands up like this (fingers linked on the crown of the head). And so I told them, I said “You wait here, and someone will pick you up.”
And the captain said, “Come on, sergeant, we have guns to place.” So I told the guys, “All right, get on up the road, and they’ll pick you up, somebody will pick you up.” We picked up their guns, loaded back in. I handed the driver his carbine, he reaches in his jacket pocket, pulls out the clip, and shoves it in. So we had another doo doo. Yeah, he never carried that gun again without it being loaded. But the captain, he was pretty perturbed, but the driver and I, we got things settled pretty quick. And we took Lentz without much trouble, then we went on from there, down the Danube, and Willmar was the name of the town next, and that was kind of where we were when the war ended, just before you get to Vienna. Wien, they called it. But we got word then that the Germans had surrendered. So, of course, everyone, me included, decided to have a party. And we had a company of Yugoslavian soldiers we picked up, course they were German fighters, but their heart wasn’t in it, so we let them camp there, and course we had them all disarmed, and the guys decided well, maybe we can get some chicken and have a good chicken party. So we sent a bunch of these Yugos out and they raided the country and came back with chickens. Chickens and whatever wine - everything.
But I was really smart, you know. I had in my trailer, on the mechanics car, a whole crate of Benedictine. And everyone else was doing their thing. so I got mine, and I’m telling you, for two weeks, I couldn’t eat anything but canned peaches. Oh, I was sick.
But anyway, while this was going on, the Cpt. sent word down. He said, “Sergeant, we’re going to go meet the Russians,” and we crossed the Ems River, to meet the Russians, but I wasn’t along because I told the Cpt. that I couldn’t do it. And so the rest of them, the Captain and his officers, went to cross the bridge to meet the Russians, and there they come driving Chevrolets and GMC’s and, just like a mad people, you know. And the way they treated their equipment. Anyway, that was it. And then immediately after that, we were put on detail to haul Displaced Persons from Vienna back and delouse them and get them sent to various refugee camps, where they could get sent back home. But we always unloaded them at the airport, and we had tons of DDT; everyone that went through there got sprayed. Because coming out of concentration camps they were lousy, really lousy. But they didn’t mind it. They knew what it was for. And there were a lot of Displaced Persons and really, slave labor is what they had been.
I had also been to Dachau, after we left Regensburg and went toward Lentz. (Dachau on map) All I saw there was bodies. We called them hutments; they were buildings, long and narrow, room enough for cots on each side and an aisle in the middle, and the one I went through had bodies right to the ceiling. It was just so many they couldn’t take care of them in their furnaces.
After that, along about the middle of July, I was transferred to Salzburg, and to the 79th division. And I was first Sgt. of Battery B. 693rd Field Artillery Battalion. And they had guards all around Salzburg, just to make sure everybody behaved themselves, and everybody got food and things like that. And our barracks was on the Salzburg airport. And I was there until November, when our whole battery was transferred out and we went to a staging area to get ready to come home. This was six months after the war (ended).
The obituary of Lieutenant General David Ewing Ott and eulogy of Private Lloyd G. McCarter, Medal of Honor Awardee are included per the request of Mr. Moss.
Lt. Gen. David Ott; Authority on Field Artillery
By Patricia Sullivan
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, July 1, 2004; Page B06
David E. Ott, 81, a retired Army lieutenant general who served in combat in the field artillery during three wars, and who in retirement worked to help military families, died June 21 at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington.
He had contracted Legionnaire's disease at his class reunion at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, N.Y., in late spring.
Lt. Gen. Ott, who wrote "Field Artillery, 1954-1973" (1975), was an expert on field artillery tactics in Vietnam. He was the chief of field artillery and commanding general at Fort Sill, Okla., and commanding general of VII Corps in Germany during the 1970s.
In retirement, as board president of the Army Distaff Foundation, he initiated an expansion of life-care retirement facilities, including homes for military couples, such as the Fairfax at Fort Belvoir and the Army Retirement Residence in San Antonio.
At the time of his death, he lived at the Fairfax.
David Ewing Ott was born at the Army's Schofield Barracks in Honolulu. His father was a brigadier general in the field artillery, and the family lived on Army bases across the country.
He attended Western High School in the District and graduated from West Point in 1944. He received a master's degree in international relations from George Washington University in 1962. He also had a certificate in advanced management training from Harvard University.
During World War II, Gen. Ott was a forward observer and provisional battery commander with an infantry division in Europe.
He served in the Korean War as a battalion executive officer and later commanded an artillery division in Vietnam during the war there.
"All three times he was in combat, he was in command -- at whatever rank he was, he had the toughest jobs with the most responsibility," said Pat Hollis, editor of Field Artillery Journal.
Artillerymen, known as "redlegs" for the red stripe on their uniform pants, are required to be good with detail and yet have a wide perspective. Their job requires them to work with most of the specialties in the Army, Hollis said.
Gen. Ott was considered to be among the best. Along with retired Gen. Tommy Franks, former commander in chief of U.S. Central Command, he raised the profile of field artillery within the Army.
Walter "Dutch" Kerwin, the retired four-star general who was vice chief of staff of the Army in the mid-1970s, said Gen. Ott was "very highly respected as one of the good leaders, one of the real leaders of the redlegs. He really made a tremendous contribution to the profession . . . not only because of his knowledge of artillery. Both he and his wife will be missed because they were viewed as a very fine team."
In Washington, Gen. Ott became chief of the artillery branch at the Army personnel office and was the architect of the separation of the field artillery and air-defense artillery.
As a brigadier general, he commanded U.S. Army forces in Thailand, followed by an assignment as the Deputy Assistant Chief of Staff for Intelligence at the Pentagon. Later, he became the director of the Vietnam Task Force, an agency that was created to coordinate the withdrawal of U.S. forces from Vietnam.
From 1973 to 1976, Gen. Ott served at Fort Sill as the chief of field artillery, commandant of the field artillery school and commanding general of the field artillery center.
He was promoted to lieutenant general for his final assignment as commander of VII Corps in Germany in 1976.
At the time, he spoke about the improved combat readiness of the 200,000-man U.S. 7th Army in Europe. "It hardly seems like the same Army" from the post-Vietnam War disarray, he told The Washington Post.
"Racial tensions today are as low as I've ever seen them in the Army since it was integrated in 1951," he added. "The potential, however, is there. We do have an occasional flareup . . . like a barroom brawl . . . but these are very limited, and we've developed programs to prevent this and keep each other aware."
After retirement in 1978, Gen. Ott worked for Teledyne Systems and, later, served as a consultant for a wide range of military equipment and development programs.
He was active in volunteer work, supporting his late wife with her work organizing the first Army Family Symposium. He also helped form the Field Artillery Association chapter in the Washington area, the Capital Cannoneers. He was the chapter's first president and served on the board and as an adviser.
Gen. Ott was a former president and board chairman of the U.S. Field Artillery Association. In 1986, the association honored him with a musical tattoo.
His military decorations included three awards of the Distinguished Service Medal for his service in Thailand, at the Pentagon and in VII Corps; four awards of the Legion of Merit; the Distinguished Flying Cross; two awards of the Bronze Star; six awards of the Air Medal; and the Army Commendation Medal.
His wife of 54 years, Joyce Helmick Ott, died April 2.
Survivors include four children, David E. Ott Jr. of Vicenza, Italy, Judy Griebling of Golden, Colo., Nancy Leah Dunn of Panama City, Fla., and Leiza Johnson of Anchorage; and 13 grandchildren.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A19366-2004Jun30.html
Name: LLOYD G. McCARTER
Rank and organization: Private, U.S. Army, 503d Parachute Infantry Regiment
Place: Corregidor, Philippine Islands
Date: 16-19 February 1945
Entered service at: Tacoma, Washington.
Born: 11 May 1917, St. Maries, Idaho.
G.O. No.: 77, 10 September 1945.
He was a scout with the regiment which seized the fortress of Corregidor, Philippine Islands. Shortly after the initial parachute assault on 16 February 1945, he crossed 30 yards of open ground under intense enemy fire, and at point blank range silenced a machinegun with hand grenades. On the afternoon of 18 February he killed 6 snipers. That evening, when a large force attempted to bypass his company, he voluntarily moved to an exposed area and opened fire. The enemy attacked his position repeatedly throughout the night and was each time repulsed. By 2 o'clock in the morning, all the men about him had been wounded; but shouting encouragement to his comrades and defiance at the enemy, he continued to bear the brunt of the attack, fearlessly exposing himself to locate enemy soldiers and then pouring heavy fire on them. He repeatedly crawled back to the American line to secure more ammunition. When his submachine gun would no longer operate, he seized an automatic rifle and continued to inflict heavy casualties. This weapon, in turn, became too hot to use and, discarding it, he continued with an M-l rifle. At dawn the enemy attacked with renewed intensity. Completely exposing himself to hostile fire, he stood erect to locate the most dangerous enemy positions. He was seriously wounded; but, though he had already killed more than 30 of the enemy, he refused to evacuate until he had pointed out immediate objectives for attack. Through his sustained and outstanding heroism in the face of grave and obvious danger, Pvt. McCarter made outstanding contributions to the success of his company and to the recapture of Corregidor.
http://corregidor.org/heritage_battalion/moh/mccarter
Robert Moss was enlisted in the Idaho National Guard when World War II began and was called into federal service on September 17, 1940. After preliminary training, he was put on reserves until December of 1942. In 1944, Moss was sent overseas with the 65th division, fighting in France, Germany, and Austria. He was honorably discharged at the rank of 1st sergeant. Moss received a Good Conduct Medal and a Bronze Star Medal. This is his story.
Robert Moss
While he was in the service, Moss knew Lt. Reim Ott and Medal of Honor awardee MacArthur. The obituary of Lt. Reim Ott, and the eulogy of Pvt. McCarter follows per the request of Mr. Moss. After the war, Moss worked at Edward Hines Lumber Mill before moving to Idaho for two years and then returning to Burns, where he continues to live today.
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