John
F. Mickey was American, he was 35 in 1944 and lived in Michigan.
He did enlisted in september 1943, he thought he could do
some "job" in this war. When he enlisted he was
not expected for that kind of life : the long separation from
loved one, the horror of war, and even hunger and thirst.
All along the fightings he took notes, and many years later
he decided to write about sixty pages. John F. Mickey passed
away in 1989. With his son's permission, his memories are
told there. It is the experience of a "common" man
who believed in some human valours, and who fight for them
from the beaches of Normandy to the Hurtgen forest, in Germany,
where he had been wounded.
(John
F. Mickey's memories - 1944/1945) |
The
D Day
Late this dark night of 4 to 5 June we are in our bunks fully
dressed, packed and ready. I don’t know the hour but
we are awaken by a heavy rumbling sound over head. We jump
out to get outside. It is dark, we can’t see anything
but we know they are planes going out, the vibration is so
heavy we feel it in the flapping of our dungarees. The call
to fall in is shou-ted. We know this is not another dry run.
Our trucks are heading for the port. There are two Red Cross
trucks and several women greet us, having large trays of doughnuts,
and hot coffee on the tables. I heard the guy before me ask
how many, she said to take as many as he wanted, and in a
low voice she advised not to take any. I remembered crossing
Lake Michi-gan several times, and I did not take any of the
doughnuts. I did ask for coffee and a bit of sugar. Boarding
the ship we take a bunk, it is unusually quiet, no one is
joking, no loud conversations. We are not sure if we will
be moving out soon or when, no one tells us anything. I doubt
anyone knew. I stretched out and closed my eyes, my thoughts
were with Harriet back home in a real bed. At day break I
heard fellows say that they had not slept at all. We stay
aboard all following day. Our ship was still anchored in the
evening of 5 June. Every man was given a plastic lined paper
bag, we knew what it was for, no one had to tell us. Then
ship is moving and we know the destination. At dawn we see
hundreds of ships and crafts of all kind. There is a large
ship marked with a white cross. The water is choppy, men are
vomiting, some don’t have time to use the bag. It is
a slippery walk to the landing to the waiting crafts. It was
a sickening sight but I did not vomit. We quickly get on the
craft. There are from forty to sixty men standing on the landing
craft that moves us toward shore.
It’s
hell, every kind of gun firing from ship to shore
and from land to us. The sky is filled with air craft firing.
We see hit ships sunk in five minutes, one half submerged
has a polish flag and markings. Our craft was not hit, but
as soon as we were close to the shore we run up against steel
X crossed barricades. We have to get through I hope they are
not mined. We get off and wade to shore, holding our rifles
dry overhead. Some are chest deep and have to be helped. Before
I realise, I see a half of a body floating by, it is a G.
I., but for the grace of God it is not me. To the right I
see a pile of equipment and rifles. We are pinned down under
enemy fire. Fire comes from several structures of these five
feet thick concrete house with openings for the guns. Our
bombers were able to shake them out to abandon, coming out
they only fell to our rifle shots. It was many days before
we made it to the first town. I believe it was Cheerburg where
in the square we saw bodies of our men in the street. It is
house to house fighting and searching for the enemy. It was
that way from then on through Normandy. With the warm day
of June 7th and our fast moving, our dripping wet clothes
dried quickly, or we were not aware of them being wet. The
enemy is everywhere scattered throughout, sometimes just small
groups of just one of die hards firing at us.
Burnt churches
Passing a wood school house riding atop our tanks, screaming
women ran to our tanks telling us that a german tank fired
on the school killing children. Another woman holding two
bottles of wine gave them to me. We all drank the wine and
we moved into the village. We were crossing a bridge when
we spotted the german tank back of a house. The tank germans
opened their hatch and were coming out. I believe every man
fired at them. One more abandoned tank. Early one morning
in France riding our tanks we saw an old man on the hill waving
for us to stop. He said a german officer was found dead and
no one would confess, so the Germans killed everyone in the
village. A dead woman in the street was clutching a dead baby,
and a three years old child was dead by her side. The old
man pointed to the wood church and said there is a german
machinegun in the steeple. Our tanks fired knocking down the
steeple. When we were passing by the church we saw a priest
and several women carrying out things from the burning church.
They cheered and waved to us. We did not intentionally bomb
churches but I saw a large church with its roof off. Two of
us walked in, and we could not believe what we saw : a priest
was having mess standing in the debris. I knelt and walked
out.
To be continued in september
|
