'Round the Girdled Earth
Letters from Dartmouth Men in the Armed Forces
STAFF SERGEANT BERT W. ANGER '42, AUS, with the 2nd MobileRadie Broadcasting Company, attached tothe Psychological Warfare Combat Teamof General Bradley's 12th Army Group,wrote the following account of the historical meeting of our troops with ourRussian Allies at Torgan, Germany.
At 10 a.m. this morning troops of the U. S. 69th Division led by Colonel Adam of the 273 rd Regiment crossed the Elbe river at the upper bridge at Torgau and thus became the first Americans to shake hands with their Allies from the East, when they established contact with soldiers of General Roussakov's 58th Red Guard Division, fighting under General Koniev's First Ukranian Army.
News of the link-up, rumored for days, spread like wildfire through V Corps area this morning and brought caravans of correspondents, radiomen and photographers hurtling down the highway towards Torgau. Military outposts on the way waved us along with happy faces shouting: "Give my regards to the Russkis."
The road, which only a few hours previously had been the scene of the last German resistance, with occasional heavy artillery fire and stubborn small arm duels, had suddenly turned into a two-way traffic highway. Streaming westward were hundreds of members of the Wehrmacht, men and officers, in loose forma- tions, some lucky enough to be driving their own Wehrmacht vehicles, with a white flag waving on top, others on bicycles or pushing handcarts, and the majority trotting wearily towards the now welcome haven of American prisonership. Our men didn't seem to care about this "enemy" army, except to keep the road clear for the American vehicles speeding towards the Russians. Occasional collecting points for PWs were set up in fields along the road, but in general nobody gave a damn what happened to these last remnants of Hitler's "supermen."
But the soldiers were only a small part of the westward streaming masses. The "super race" was on the run, fleeing from the approaching Russians, with a few belongings on their back, some with heavy horsecarts with part of their cattle straggling along behind. Old men and women, children, with a frightened look on their faces, looked toward the Americans for protection, asking Us anxiously "whether the Americans would stay." It was the Prance of the summer of 1940, all over again, with a vengeance.
Crossing hastily built Baily bridges, driving through shellcraters and past burned-out Wehrmacht vehicles, we reached Torgau shortly after noon. The former German fortress town was deserted. Yellow signs, pasted on walls and houses, indicated that by order of the military commander the town had to be evacuated on April 14.
There were a few Gls strolling through the streets, looking for the soldiers' loot: the cameras, pistols and cognac. Then, a strange looking uniform on a soldier, who apparently had imbibed quite a few and was merrily staggering down the street, tommy gun under one arm, a bottle under the other. He came up to our stopped vehicle, raised his hand in a snappy salute: a soldier of the Red Army. He was dressed in a light green-gray uniform, about the color of washed-out fatigues, wore high black boots and an overseas cap at a cocky angle. On his chest were dangling numerous military decorations, some in the form of coins, others with the large red hammer and sickle of the Soviet Union. His tommy gun was of the British type and from the belt dangled the German Walther pistol as a souvenir just as our Gls carry them. He was happy to see us, at least that's what we thought we gathered from his voluminous flow of speech and his movements of the hands. He was a young fellow of 22 or thereabouts and with the typical round Russian face and the closely cropped hair. We couldn't understand what we said to each other, but there could be felt this feeling of mutual friendship of the soldiers of the two Allied nations, which until today we had always read about and which today for the first time had found a way to express itself.
Through the deserted town and down to the Elbe river, at a point between the blown bridge spans, where other U. S. vehicles were parked, correspondents were milling about and the story leaked out that at 4 p.m. the Commanding General of the 69th Division was officially to meet the Commanding General of the 58th Russian Division, on the east bank of the Elbe.
There were numerous soldiers and junior officers of the Red Army here now, mingling with their American brothers in arms. Around a few Gls who through their background had a knowledge of Russian formed large circles of interested onlookers of both nations. Weapons were exchanged and closely examined and appraised, medals and ribbons were explained, rank insignia were shown, the "girl friend" or girl, friends' photos were admired. The raids through the town had unearthed numerous bottles of wine and "schnapps" and the Russians had miraculously brought some of their own vodka with them. There was a large group of Russian peasant girls with all their belongings sitting nearby, who only recently had escaped from a former German labor camp and had now by chance come to find their countrymen and meet them at the banks of the Elbe. A jolly atmosphere developed soon, toasts were drunk out of the bottle or odd cups, and even a couple of concertinas made their appearance and lusty Russian songs soon filled the air. We asked a Russian soldier, who was dreamily stringing a guitar, to play a Russian folksong. The tune he played seemed strangely familiar to us, and we soon discovered that he was singing the Russian words to a recent American song hit. One fellow who had a particularly good voice was a young Russian fighter whose two stars on his yellow epaulettes indicated that he was a lieutenant. The latter fact he pointed out with great pride to every passerby. He invited us to drink to our Commanders-in-Chief and for that purpose filled two large cups with straight vodka. To have refused would have been a mortal insult, so with great misgivings as to the probable after effects we gulped the whole fiery content down at once, in true Russian fashion. The lieutenant congratulated us and then pointing at himself saying "Stalin," then pointing at us and saying "Roosevelt" with an accompanying sweep of the hand, indicating his death, asked who our new President was.
Two British sergeants joined.the crowd. They had been liberated by the Russians, four days before at Luckenwalde, near Berlin, and had hitch-hiked with the Russians up to here. They were full of praise for the Russian hospitality and the vitality of the Russian soldiers. Interestingly enough, they said that the Russians were greatly in favor of the Yanks and the Tommies, but didn't care much for the other Western Allies. The Russian treatment of the German population, they said, was hard, particularly on women; but in general was just.
During all this time, two four-men clinker boats of the Torgauer Rowing Club, manned by Russian and American soldiers, were the only means of communication across the calmly flowing river. Around three o'clock most of the correspondents went over to the east banks to assist preparations for the impending meeting of the Generals. We observed a Russian truck pull up at the east bank, and soldiers got off and started to erect a wooden platform.
At twenty minutes of four, a convoy of jeeps and armored cars pulled up at the west bank of the Elbe. Major General Rhinhardt, Commander of the 69 th Infantry Division had arrived. He and his staff crossed in the same two clinker boats to the east bank of the river. There they walked up the slope, disregarding the platform and halfway up were met by General Roussakov of the 58th Red Guard Division who had started from the top of the hill at the same time. As the two groups merged, surrounded by correspondents and photographers, the flags of the three great Allies, the Union Jack, the Hammer and Sickle, and the Star Spangled Banner, were unfurled in their midst. After many hearty handshakes, the two Generals and their staffs moved on to a German garrison building, hidden behind a row of tall poplar trees, where they remained in military seclusion, much to the disgust of the news hungry correspondents.
East and West had met. The moment that the entire Allied world had been praying and hoping for had occurred. With this unbreakable link established, it will be easier to fight together towards a speedy final victory and to work together for a lasting peace.
LIEUTENANT MILBURN MCCARTY JR. '35, USMC, writes a newsyletter from. Okinawa, Shima, which willinterest all Dartmouth men. It was written on June 27, 194;.
It wasn't more than go minutes after arriving at Okinawa that I ran into a Dartmouth man. He was Dr. Fran Lagorio '96, whom I encountered L Plus One Day on the crowded, confused beachhead. Doctor Lagorio, a Navy medico attached to the First Marine Division, was moving inland with his unit, and we hardly had time to do more than say "hello" before he had to go off in one direction and I in another.
During the three months since then I've met many Dartmouth graduates here at Okinawa. One of the visitors at our Press Tent at Yontan was Ed Jones '37, here doing some pieces for the Atlantic Monthly. Another was Bob Harvey '41, former Daily Dartmouth editor who is now a Marine Corps combat correspondent. Harvey spent many months down in the Central Pacific before coming here, and is currently at Ie Shima covering the activities of a Marine air group which operates from the closest American airstrip to Japan.
One day, while headed towards southern Okinawa to visit my old infantry outfit, I poked my head into a strange tent to ask directions and found myself talking to Ted Harbaugh '35. Harbaugh, a Marine Lieutenant whose work is considered so secret that I cannot even tell you his title, gave me news of several other Dartmouths whom he had • seen here. Lt. Chuck Goodwin '40 was, he said, with a Marine artillery outfit; Captain Bill Niemann '35 with the Army; Lt. Chuck Longfield '43 a Marine air observer; and both Bill Hardwicke '38 and John Heneage '40 somewhere about with Marine units. Harbaugh told me he had also heard that Howie Croninger '35 was serving as gunnery officer on a destroyer stationed off the Okinawa beachhead.
Another old friend I met was Ted Steele '35. Ted is a Navy Lieutenant and intelligence officer of a squadron which works on China, Japan, and places almost as far north as Vladivostok. When one of our photographers wanted to get some pictures over China, Ted helped arrange the trip. The photographer got back all right, but only after picking up pieces of shrapnel over the Shanghai Harbor.
Recently I've bumped into two former Dartmouth sports headliners—Bob McLeod and Gus Broberg. McLeod, a Marine captain and fighter pilot, is operations officer of the "Fighting Wildcats." Broberg, a Marine lieutenant, is .flying with the record-breaking "Death Rattlers," the hottest squadron now operating against the Japs. One day we had a new ace over to be photographed with the General and I learned that he too was a Dartmouth graduate—Captain Wallace Sigler '48. Sigler had marked up four Jap planes to his credit down in the Solomons, and got his fifth one flying with the Marine night fighters over Okinawa. At least two other men I know of also are with Marine aviation here: Captain Ford G. Coffman '42, who flies with the "Death Rattlers," and Pfc. Newk Stainsby '35, attached to a night fighter squadron.
At present my own unit—the Press section of the Second Marine Air Wing—is still dug in in a former Jap Turkish Bath establishment which we converted, early in the campaign, into a combination office, living quarters, and bomb-proof dugout. The underground room where the monkeys used to throw water on hot rocks and steam themselves provides an excellent spot to duck into when the flak begins to fall or the Kamikaze boys start pancaking about us. A few evenings ago there' we sat through the 200th Okinawan alert. The island was secured a week ago, or so they say, but seven of our men were killed by an ambush three days ago, and the next night the Japs laid another stick of bombs right on top of our camp.
THE MOORE TWINS, Capt. Clark and Lt. (jg) Preston, both '43, are respectively in the Army Air Force and the United States Navy. Capt. Clark has been in Europe with a bombardment group and Lt. Preston is on a destroyer in the Pacific.
PROMOTED ON V-E DAY, William R. Jones '33 is now a major with the 51st Troop Carrier Wing. The major, who began his Army career as a corporal, is shown at his Headquarters in Italy.
