Graduating from high school at 16 was quite an accomplishment back in the 1940's, but enlisting in the Service was the goal for my dad, Ernie Doucette. Having to wait a year because he wasn't eligible to join the military, he worked as a mechanic in Reading, MA. where he and his best friend, later to be my uncle, Phillip Burbine, aka: 'Chippy Burbine' as he was called, together they registered as members of the U.S. Air Force. My father really didn't find the Air Force to be what he wanted so he transferred to the U.S. Army so he could be "where the action was" to quote him. Dad was a second generation Army man to go to France as well, my grandfather was a World War I veteran. The Army sent my father to Clemson University for a semester of Engineering classes as they saw something unique in him that would later prove be a valuable investment on Omaha Beach and again the the Pacific Theater.
Fort Devons MA. would be dad's new home for a while now. He said his good-byes to his high school sweetheart, Alice Gorman, his parents and friends, for now it was time to concentrate on the tasks ahead of him along with all the other soldiers leaving to go to a foreign country to fight for their freedom. (to be continued...)
Training In England
Dad and other engineers from all military divisions were on their way to an unspecified location in England for extensive training on "dummy" landing crafts on shore. All were taught how to embark and disembark from different LCI's. (landing craft infantry..which I will reference as LCI's from now on) The exercises, day after day.. hour after hour, proved useful in working out details as how to fit as many men and equipment into the small crafts as possible. They also had "assault training lanes" where troops could land and work their way inland overcoming a series of obstacles, using live ammunition as well as real explosives. Dad's first training experience began on Woolacombe Beach at the southern end of the beach called Saunton Sands. His Assault Training Camp (ATC) started with a soldier's individual skills revolving around their LCI's. As his training progressed, he was moved on to a small unit operations through company and battalion exercises. After he graduated from this phase of grueling four week training, he moved on to a larger scale of landing exercises at Slapton Sands. Since live ammunition was being used in these exercises, the local people were evacuated for safety reasons. His training now at Slapton Sands would help him and other soldiers to improve plans for the D-Day Invasion. Training was tough and it didn't come without casualties either. On 27 April, 1944, German E-boats attacked two LSTs (landing ship tank) and badly damaged a third. One hundred ninety Sailors and 441 Soldiers were killed, mostly from the 1st Engineer Special Brigade. This was referred to as the "Operation Tiger" disaster. And so, training resumed with the Allies now sending their bombers to strike the German E-boat squadrons, severely damaging the E-boat threat to the D-Day convoys.
Training was exhausting and rest or sleep was virtually non-existent, but dad and every soldier chosen for this task knew that the success of the long hours meant success of failure for the landing in Normandy. Between the British troops and the French farmers learning how to use pigeons as a means of carrying messages and questions for the allies to obtain answers, dad's unit continued practicing going up and down the side of a mock LCI on cargo net while they carried a full load of equipment. Once he mastered the cargo netting up and down, it was on to demolition charges and then the rifle squad. He was chosen as one of the riflemen for the 293rd JASCO Unit. Mastering all of these different tasks was no easy chore because just one mistake, one moment of memory lapse could have cost him his life as well as the lives of his fellow soldiers. There was no room for any mistakes. All equipment carried on to Omaha Beach had to be completely waterproofed as well.
Dad's training in England was drawing to an end. He and 10 of his fellow JASCO buddies were detached from their 293rd JASCO Unit and re-attached to the 149Th Engineer Combat Battalion supporting the 116Th Infantry Regiment. Their destination: Dog Green~ Training for "OPERATION OVERLORD" had been completed. Now, the waiting had become the biggest problem because of storms. And so day after day became a "wait and see" situation. Finally, 6 June, 1944, dad and others climbed the real cargo netting onto the LCI 92 and headed out to something he never dreamed could possibly happen ... disaster just waiting for them in the English Channel. What 19 year old could have ever prepared himself for his ship to become entangled in teller mines, blow up, see your buddies beside you die in front of your eyes, watch as your fellow soldiers drowned because they were trying to do what they were trained to do ... bring your equipment onto Omaha Beach. They had no training for this so it had to come down to common sense. Dad once told me that you had to think really fast to drop all of your equipment in order to get back up to the top of the water because if your didn't, you'd drown. And, that's what happened to many soldiers that morning. They forgot to save themselves. The LCI 92 never made it into "DOG GREEN". Neither did the soldiers~ they found themselves in the grips of hell instead.
This morning, 9 July, 2008, I found "The Longest Day" on TV and watched as all the ships, Higgins Boats and soldiers tried in vain to land on Omaha Beach. I kept thinking about my dad as he tried to save his own life and those around him as their LCI 92 burnt in the English Channel. At 19 years of age, it was hard for me to comprehend how he survived that morning, kept going and somehow reached the beach. He did his job, set up communications with the Air Force and Navy but only after he found himself in a horrific fight with the Germans. Little did he know that it would be combat first and then only after Omaha Beach had been secured, he would then go into 'engineer mode' with communications. I watched this movie through the eyes of one of his adult children, realizing just how blessed I was to have had him as my dad. I only saw graphic details on a television screen or "Saving Private Ryan" at the movie theater but, he was an actual participant .. a young soldier with his life on the line .. not only did it break my heart, but made me even more appreciative for the father that raised me. He had seen more in his young life than I would ever see in my entire life time. He was such a gentle person .. no one would ever have known what he endured in Normandy, France and again in the Pacific Theater. He went through hell to get back home~ He left the horror in Europe, married our mom and raised the five of us kids. We were 5 lucky kids~and ... we knew it!
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
"Quest For The Medal"
Before I begin this segment of my blog, I would like to take a moment to acknowledge four of my dad's buddies that I have found and stayed in touch with in my search for answers regarding dad's Army days. The first veteran I was introduced to was Sam Kornfeld, originally from NY and now resides in Florida. I refer to Sam as my 'adopted dad'. He is an absolutely remarkable person, caring, genuine, a true veteran, and such an incredibly important part of my life now. I treasure our friendship each and ever day. The next veteran I found along the way was Fritz Weinshenk. His story is quite unique and sad at the same time. Being of the Jewish Faith, he lost part of his family to the Germans who took it upon themselves to extinguish members of his immediate family as if they never existed. As a young boy, he moved to the United States, went to school, joined the Army, (293 JASCO), made it through D-Day and so on, went back to New York and attended City College, now known as Columbia University, where he earned his Law Degree, then went back to France as a Lawyer and took part in the Nuremberg Trials. An incredible individual, he led me to Walter Newman, also originally from New York, now in Kansas and Arnold Epstein, whom I believe still resides in New York. Without the help of these four Veterans, who are an important part of the 'Greatest Generation', I never would have been able to trace my dad's footsteps on Omaha Beach or The Pacific Theater. I thank the four of them with every fiber of my being, not only for the information and leads they have provided me but for their dedication and service to our country. Thank you to all of you~
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Now~ 'Quest For The Medal' ~ After the fiasco aboard the JFK Air Craft Carrier in July of 2000, I asked my dad why they never received their medals from the French government. He really wasn't sure, but he thought it was because the 293rd JASCO was divided up into 10 to 12 men, detached from their JASCO Unit and re-attached to a larger unit, his being the 149th Engineer Combat Battalion .. in other words they "fell through the cracks" and were forgotten about. As I was preparing to leave my small town of No. Reading, MA. to return to No. Virginia, I told my dad that I was going to do what I could to first find an answer as to why they never received a medal and second do whatever it took to get him one. After all, he did 'earn it'!
Living just outside of Washington, DC does have some advantages .. the French Embassy for one! After making an appointment to talk to a member of their Veteran Affairs department, I was told that these D-Day Veterans were indeed offered a commemorative medal for the 60th anniversary in FRANCE! Stunned, I mentioned the fact that not very many of these veterans were able to travel back to France for this ceremony either for financial reasons, health reasons or, as in my dad's case, 'he had already been there...he couldn't go back again'. There were a lot of psychological reason for many as to why they could not return to Normandy, France. The cost they had paid 60 years ago had just been too much to endure and seeing the American side of the cemetery in Normandy was a traumatic reminder of how much was lost that day. After my first attempt of 3 hours or so, I was told to contact the French Consulate in Boston, MA. since that's where my father was from .. "Maybe they can be of assistance to you" I was told. Not being discouraged very easily, that's exactly where I was headed next. I called, wrote and called again only to be told that there just were no more medals to be had. Nine months had passed by this time and one evening in early April of 2001, I received a call that our dad had had a 'slight' stroke. Concerned about my dad's health, my objective had just become a top priority for me. Returning to the French Embassy in DC, I decided that "no" was just not an acceptable answer for me any more. I didn't care where they found a medal as long as one was found and properly presented to my father. As his health continued to decline, more pressure was being applied to both the French Consulate in Boston as well as the Embassy in DC. Flying back and forth to spend as much time with dad as I possibly could now, we were all told in September of 2001 that he and our mom had accepted the fact that our father was approaching the end as we all had feared. I returned to VA. again with one objective in mind .. a medal for my favorite hero but September 11th had interrupted my plans as it interrupted the entire world. I was not allowed to visit the Embassy now because of the Pentagon attack, so I called, begged, pleaded with anyone that would listen to me. Finally, I was able to plead my case again in Boston with Michael DePaulo, Special Liaison to Mr. Stephane Chemelewsky, Consul General of France. He granted dad a dispensation and sent me a commemorative medal because the Jubilee Medals were no longer available. Now waiting for Logan Airport to re-open, I had a letter, a medal from France and a medal from the Philippines which he never received either in my possession and nothing could stop me from boarding another plane back to Boston. In part of the letter written to my dad, I was referred to as "relentless" and that "no is just not an option" for for my dad, but it was noted that I always spoke for the five of us kids, not just myself. Dad was complimented by the French now not only for his actions on Omaha Beach so many years ago, but for the family he and mom had raised. "It is not within my power to place the original one in your hand because I simply do not have one. It moves me deeply and with great pride to know that your children think so very much about their father and would go to the lengths that Louise did in order to make sure that you were properly honoured. And, so you shall be Monsieur Ernest Doucette!" Mr. DePaulo wrote. With my mom, sister Ann, brothers Paul, John and Michael there, we presented dad with his long overdue medals. As the letter was being read to him, tears, not only of joy streamed down his face, but also of appreciation of what had finally been accomplished for him. His face said it all .. he was ready for his journey 'home' even if we weren't.
My favorite hero has been gone for over six years now, but his spirit, his courage and his strength remains within me in my actions, how I treat others, in the things I say and do, how I choose to 'give back' to my community as my dad did and how I can help other Military families in their time of need. He is my inspiration now as I volunteer as a member of "Soldiers Angels" for our troops in Iraq and Afghanistan but I think my biggest accomplishment is what I will have taught my three children and pass on to my grand children. If I can be assessed as a good wife, a good mom, Nana, aunt and a good friend to others and have the ability to be able to 'agree to disagree' as dad always did, then I think I will do well, but that's not up to me to decide. One day I will stand before someone else with much higher authority than I'll ever have to decide how well I've done here on earth. Of course, if I get to that point one day and do pass, I know I'll have to once again stand before dad and pass his test also! Hummmm~ that just might be the toughest test to pass. Miss and love you always dad~ Whez
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now~ 'Quest For The Medal' ~ After the fiasco aboard the JFK Air Craft Carrier in July of 2000, I asked my dad why they never received their medals from the French government. He really wasn't sure, but he thought it was because the 293rd JASCO was divided up into 10 to 12 men, detached from their JASCO Unit and re-attached to a larger unit, his being the 149th Engineer Combat Battalion .. in other words they "fell through the cracks" and were forgotten about. As I was preparing to leave my small town of No. Reading, MA. to return to No. Virginia, I told my dad that I was going to do what I could to first find an answer as to why they never received a medal and second do whatever it took to get him one. After all, he did 'earn it'!
Living just outside of Washington, DC does have some advantages .. the French Embassy for one! After making an appointment to talk to a member of their Veteran Affairs department, I was told that these D-Day Veterans were indeed offered a commemorative medal for the 60th anniversary in FRANCE! Stunned, I mentioned the fact that not very many of these veterans were able to travel back to France for this ceremony either for financial reasons, health reasons or, as in my dad's case, 'he had already been there...he couldn't go back again'. There were a lot of psychological reason for many as to why they could not return to Normandy, France. The cost they had paid 60 years ago had just been too much to endure and seeing the American side of the cemetery in Normandy was a traumatic reminder of how much was lost that day. After my first attempt of 3 hours or so, I was told to contact the French Consulate in Boston, MA. since that's where my father was from .. "Maybe they can be of assistance to you" I was told. Not being discouraged very easily, that's exactly where I was headed next. I called, wrote and called again only to be told that there just were no more medals to be had. Nine months had passed by this time and one evening in early April of 2001, I received a call that our dad had had a 'slight' stroke. Concerned about my dad's health, my objective had just become a top priority for me. Returning to the French Embassy in DC, I decided that "no" was just not an acceptable answer for me any more. I didn't care where they found a medal as long as one was found and properly presented to my father. As his health continued to decline, more pressure was being applied to both the French Consulate in Boston as well as the Embassy in DC. Flying back and forth to spend as much time with dad as I possibly could now, we were all told in September of 2001 that he and our mom had accepted the fact that our father was approaching the end as we all had feared. I returned to VA. again with one objective in mind .. a medal for my favorite hero but September 11th had interrupted my plans as it interrupted the entire world. I was not allowed to visit the Embassy now because of the Pentagon attack, so I called, begged, pleaded with anyone that would listen to me. Finally, I was able to plead my case again in Boston with Michael DePaulo, Special Liaison to Mr. Stephane Chemelewsky, Consul General of France. He granted dad a dispensation and sent me a commemorative medal because the Jubilee Medals were no longer available. Now waiting for Logan Airport to re-open, I had a letter, a medal from France and a medal from the Philippines which he never received either in my possession and nothing could stop me from boarding another plane back to Boston. In part of the letter written to my dad, I was referred to as "relentless" and that "no is just not an option" for for my dad, but it was noted that I always spoke for the five of us kids, not just myself. Dad was complimented by the French now not only for his actions on Omaha Beach so many years ago, but for the family he and mom had raised. "It is not within my power to place the original one in your hand because I simply do not have one. It moves me deeply and with great pride to know that your children think so very much about their father and would go to the lengths that Louise did in order to make sure that you were properly honoured. And, so you shall be Monsieur Ernest Doucette!" Mr. DePaulo wrote. With my mom, sister Ann, brothers Paul, John and Michael there, we presented dad with his long overdue medals. As the letter was being read to him, tears, not only of joy streamed down his face, but also of appreciation of what had finally been accomplished for him. His face said it all .. he was ready for his journey 'home' even if we weren't.
My favorite hero has been gone for over six years now, but his spirit, his courage and his strength remains within me in my actions, how I treat others, in the things I say and do, how I choose to 'give back' to my community as my dad did and how I can help other Military families in their time of need. He is my inspiration now as I volunteer as a member of "Soldiers Angels" for our troops in Iraq and Afghanistan but I think my biggest accomplishment is what I will have taught my three children and pass on to my grand children. If I can be assessed as a good wife, a good mom, Nana, aunt and a good friend to others and have the ability to be able to 'agree to disagree' as dad always did, then I think I will do well, but that's not up to me to decide. One day I will stand before someone else with much higher authority than I'll ever have to decide how well I've done here on earth. Of course, if I get to that point one day and do pass, I know I'll have to once again stand before dad and pass his test also! Hummmm~ that just might be the toughest test to pass. Miss and love you always dad~ Whez
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