We knew from the first that our stay at Penning would be brief. It was generally understood by all that the place was only a stepping stone between the States and the Continent of Europe. And we didn't remain any longer than we had expected to - - for in just about six weeks we were saying farewell to that delightfully muddy 'ole'. No, we'll never forget the m u d - never the M u d. They told us to expect it to be muddy - they said that in England it was usually muddy in this season, but no matter what they told us about mud we found it to be a vast understatement as far as Camp Penning was concerned. There was hardly a man in the Company who would not swear on a stack of bibles that all the mud from every nook and cranny on the British Isles eventually slithered it way down into our tent city. It grew cold but the stubborn mud would not freeze solid - - it remained to ooze with merry gurgles over our new combat boots, and reach up greedily to bespatter the O. D.s we tried so hard to keep neat and clean.

But mud or no mud, we accomplished quite a bit of work during our sojourn at Camp Penning. Our vehicles and other equipment came in and we readied them with beaverish diligence for the job ahead. Not all our time was devoted in preparing our equipment - - we also prepared ourselves with a complete training schedule of calisthenics, road marches, bayonet drill, firing of weapons (for zeroing in purposes) and a series of lectures. We renamed our vehicles (typical names were: No Love, No Beans, Nightcap) and racks were welded on them to hold material and equipment thus allowing more room inside for personnel.

However, it was not 'all work and no play,' at Tidworth. There were dances for the battalion in town and a Red Cross Service Club where one could find some entertainment. Also, there were passes to larger, nearby towns such as Salisbury and Hanover, and then there were a couple of excursions to London. That was THE pass! London with its Piccadilly Circus. Remember? (Keep that gleam out of your eyes - - the little woman may be watching you.)

On Sunday, Dec. 24th, we were due for some excitement. At 8:30 A. M. when we were all turning over in our sacks (we intended to make this Sunday a real, honest-to-goodness lazy one) pandemonium (in the form of the C. Q.) broke out, with whistle blowing shrilly he informed us that we were 'on the alert' - - to fall out in full combat regalia - - the Allies had a 'hot poop' that the Jerries would try to land paratroopers in England. (This was the time of the Bulge, if you'll recall), so for several hours that day we set up in the hills behind our guns - - watching for signs of parachutists - - none did appear.

On Dec. 25th - - Christmas Day, our Company cooks outdid themselves with the Christmas Dinner. Perhaps they prepared such an elegant repast to impress the little group of English orphans that were guests of the company that day. It certainly was a heartwarming sight, our men strolling about camp with adoring tots holding tightly to their hands.

Then, three days later, an advance detail left for the continent, and we knew that in a day or two we'd be following. Dec. 30th our English currency was converted to francs, and the next day we stowed our vehicles. Tying everything down so that things would stay fixed on the channel crossing. It was the 2nd of January, 1945, when our vehicles left Camp Penning, at 0927. The next day the vehicles and personnel moved from the staging area and loaded up on a U. S. Victory ship. Meanwhile, back at Penning, that day - - Jan. 3rd, the main body with full field packs on their backs and with duffle bags in their hands, sloshed thru the tent city's mud for one final time - - and clambered up into huge army vans. In a matter of hours we found ourselves again on the docks of Southampton. And once again the familiar scene of Red Cross Club-mobiles and G. I.s with coffee and doughnuts was reenacted. Then, followed by the other companies in the Battalion, we marched up the gang blank of a fair sized Polish ship.

We were not on board ship twenty four hours when we sighted the port of Le Havre, France, January 4th, at 1500. Destruction such as we had never before seen nor even imagined, greeted our eyes as the transport steamed in closer to shore. No words or pictures could ever describe the destruction man creates with his war machine - and the harbor of Le Havre must be seen to bring home to one the works of war.

The method with which we landed upon the war-wrecked beach was something we cannot easily forget. As there were no piers or docks at which our ship could be moored - - or to which a gangplank could be lowered - - the ship was anchored approximately a mile out in the bay and L. C. T s maneuvered up to the sides of the ship where they were grappled and tied. A stair-ladder was lowered down to the L. C. T. and down it we came in single file. The ladder, we found, was several feet short, so we had to jump down into the L. C. T., which pitched and rolled to make things a little more difficult. A cheer went up for every man who finished the jump on his feet. Finally, all hands were aboard and the Navy men cast off - - and with the transport's searchlights upon us, (it was night now.) The L. C. T. pulled away for shore. In less than a half hour the landing ship hit the shore with a bump and the scraping of its flat bottom on the rocky sand. Several seconds later we were running out on the beach through the opened front.

Up the rocky beach we went till we came to a shell-pocked road on which more army vans awaited us. Now it began to snow and the night became bitterly cold, thereby making our two and a half hour trip in the open 'Cattle wagons', the most miserable one we had yet experienced. We all secretly sent up a prayer of thanks when we finally reached our destination - - a large chateau in the 'Red Horse' area, Normandy, near the town of Totes, France.

Two days later on January 6th our vehicles caught up with us, and for the next six days during which we stayed at the chateau, we worked on vehicles and equipment. And on January 9th we mounted up into our peeps, half-tracks and tanks (3 assault guns) and began a 174 mile trip to Rheims, France. After fourteen hours of travelling we arrived that evening in Rheims. There was not a chateau waiting for us near that town - - not even a pyramidal tent - - we just had a little clump of woods and a couple inches of snow in which to settle. And in the snow we pitched our pup tents. Here, hear Rheims, we learned how easy it was to contract trench foot, for though we wore overshoes on our combat boots - - our feet were always numb with cold. It was bitterly cold and the fact that we could not have fires during hours of darkness (for security reasons) did not help us in the least. Thus we spent a miserable two days, and we were glad to learn that we were moving again - - for on Jan. 12th we mounted up and rolled to Louvigny, France which was not many miles from Metz.