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December 1, 1945:
Landed in New York Harbor. What a thrill. The sight of the Statue
of Liberty and what it stands for. The lump in my throat and
tears trickling down my cheeks as I see hundreds of people standing
and waving at us. Signs that read "Welcome Home Victors",
"You have done a superb job", the famous V for Victory
sign we saw in England, France, and Belgium, "Welcome Home
Yanks".
Wasn't too long after we arrived, we began
to disembark. We took a ferry across the Hudson River and boarded
a train for Camp Kilmer, New Jersey.
We stayed overnight and then boarded another
train for Indiantown Gap, Pennsylvania. We arrived at the Gap
on December 3, 1945.
What a great feeling. It's hard to believe.
I don't know how to act. This is all so strange to me. We begin
the process of discharge, physicals, tests of all kinds, papers
to sign. Earlier I had called home to inform them when I would
be free to come home. About 2:00 p.m. on December 7, 1945, Mom,
Dad, Lale, and Aunt Mathilda arrived at Indiantown Gap. They
were driving my car I left behind. I was so excited as were they.
Dad pulled up to where I was waiting and stopped the car. All
doors flung open and Mom, Dad, Lale, and Aunt Mathilda took their
turns hugging, embracing, and kissing me. I was now ready for
the last and important leg of my journey. The three and one half
hour drive from Indiantown Gap to home was a strange one for
me. It has been eighteen months since I drove on a public highway.
In England we drove on the left side of the road; in France,
Belgium, and Germany, we drove with the fear of enemy gun fire.
I had not been used to speed limit signs. I wasn't used to seeing
so many automobiles. Where are the Army olive drab trucks, half-tracks,
and tanks? This was all strange to me. But I adjusted quickly.
The drive home went fast as we talked continually the whole way.
Finally about 8:00 p.m. as I drove up the
driveway of my home, I realized the nightmare was over. I could
not forget the horror I went through. Our 2,214 Third Armored
buddies who fell along the hard, long road from Omaha Beach in
Normandy to Dessau, Germany, on the Elbe River would not have
this thrill. We must never forget them. Along this long, hard
road we cursed, shed a few tears, we prayed, shrugged out shoulders,
and went on our way. There was nothing else we could do. The
scar remains with us. I am one and a half year older. To me it
seemed like an eternity.
Oh, my home sure looks good. Thank God we are
free.
Now, to get on with the rest of my life.
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