The Viking Battalion, page 14
One rumor seemed more far-fetched than the rest: the battalion was to be shunted via truck convoy to Camp Carson, Colorado, there to parade in the presence of the President of the United States, Franklin Delano Roosevelt and his Chief of Staff, General George Marshall!
The latter was definitely a rumor!
Toward the end of April, 99ers proudly watched as Major Hansen, in his ramrod-straight posture, and with his distinctive military bearing, approached the white car that whisked the President of the United States and his aide across the parade grounds to Camp Carson. To a man, the 99ers stood tall, tough, and proud throughout the entire Presidential Review. It was a special honor accorded the 99th. On no other occasion had the President of the United States and his Chief of Staff ever inspected a unit as small as the 99th Inf. Bn (Sep.)!
After the Presidential Review, the 99th returned to Camp Hale, there to renew its endless attacks on our defenses of mountain slopes or valleys. Days-long maneuvers saw men resolving every kind of a pre-arranged “predicament.”
Using entrenching tools to hack holes in a snowdrift was one thing; trying to carve shallow trenches in the rock-studded mountain slopes was something else! Barrages of multilingual profanity usually shattered the mountain solitude long before acceptably deep holes were dug.
As the summer wore on and daily training hours lengthened, the unit was visited by Col. Munthe-Kaas and Col. A. D. Dahl, Norwegian military men. The purpose of their visit was to interview 99ers and ask for volunteers to be trained as paratrooper commandos. The end result was that about 80 enlisted men and 12 officers were transferred to the OSS unit.7
In June 1943 the battalion was surprised and temporarily incensed when Lt. Col. Robert G. Turner was assigned commander of the battalion. Major Hansen became Col. Turner’s executive officer.
Visibly rankled over Col. Turner’s arrival, 99ers soon began to realize that the West Point graduate was to “fine-tune” the 99ers in military tactics of mountain warfare heretofore not available to Major Hansen. Col. Turner readily admitted he felt ill at ease as commander of the ethnic unit.
It was not long, however, before respect for his military rank turned to respect for the knowledge and fairness of the individual, Col. Turner. Nor was it long before the men realized that Col. Turner and Maj. Hansen would add to the hardiness and prestige of the battalion.
Although Col. Turner was not able to boast of Norwegian ancestry, no one judged him on such a flimsy technicality. Every 99er soon “adopted” the colonel as a bona-fide Norwegian American and accorded him the respect and the cooperation he deserved!
***
As summer breezed into the Colorado Rockies, so did storms. On maneuvers that saw 99ers at altitudes at or above the timberline, summer storms often rattled below them. It was undoubtedly a first experience for many to climb through the clouds, then stand in brilliant sunshine and watch the lightning ripping across the clouds below them.
Although [while out on maneuvers no soldier wanted to be bothered with a toothache, especially if] it needed instant care. That possibility was considered by the battalion dentist, Captain Gustav Svendsen, [who] “set up shop” on many summer maneuvers. A foot-operated treadle furnished the power for his grinding tool. Whatever shortcomings “Doc” Svendsen experienced in the mountains were corrected long before similar dental services were offered in actual combat zones in France, Belgium, Holland, and Germany, many months later.
Toward the end of July, the entire battalion was marched down to the camp’s dental clinic. Three days later the unit had inherited the identity of “The Toothless Battalion.” Camp dentists who conducted the examinations said they had never found so many “store teeth” in one specific group. It was assumed that consumption of foods rich in sugar had decimated the God-given “choppers” of the Scandinavians!
Something was definitely in the air! The men could feel it during training periods as well as during off-hours.
A move seemed imminent.
On the Move Again
A scant two weeks after dental exams, the battalion was alerted for another move. Having become acclimated to Camp Hale and its surroundings, many Vikings felt a reluctance to leave. Yet they knew each progressive move would take them one step closer to the goal they had trained to achieve: invasion of Norway!
As the Viking Battalion marched north on the camp’s so-called “main drag” toward the troop trains at a Pando, they felt the glow of pride. They had survived months of the most rugged training the Army had to offer! Greater things lay ahead, and whatever the challenges, they were anxiously awaiting them.8
Personnel from the 10th Light Mountain Division appeared along the 99th’s line of March, saluting, waving, or shouting their best to the Norwegians who had shared so much in giving camp Hale a glowing reputation:
“So long, fellas…”
“Good luck…”
“See ya in Berlin…”
“Wherever you go, give ’em hell…!”
Not all 99ers who had trained with the battalion were able to accompany the unit. No one can forget the unfortunates who watched the loading of the troop trains. They stood transfixed, many with tears coursing down their cheeks.
As departing 99ers mounted the steps to the railroad coaches they also felt a sense of loss at having to leave some of their comrades behind. More than ever before, that moment revealed the deep feeling of kinship and brotherhood that had developed among them since the unit had been activated a year earlier.
Their destination was rumored to be Camp Shanks.
“Where’s Camp Shanks? Parked on a mountainside, half-way up to the summit of Mt. Everest?”
The picture was clear, yet it was disturbingly unclear. After Camp Shanks…then what?
Giant locomotives, belching steam and smoke, thundered up the incline toward Tennessee pass as the 99ers watched camp slipping away below them. And as Cooper Hill faded from view many a 99er felt a deep longing for the camp as well as friends they left behind.
“When we came here,” said one, “we were kinda soft and maybe a little scared. But now we’re as tough as they come, and we’re proud of the fact that there wasn’t one single mountain around here that stopped us! We don’t have to take a back seat to anyone!”
Another chirped: “If Camp Shanks is near New York, I’ll bet we’ll be going through Chicago!”
“You ought to know by now that troop trains don’t go as the crow flies! Years from now you’ll look at a map and retrace our route and wonder why the Army made such a long drag out of a relatively direct route!”
A long drag it was! From Pando the troop trains went South to Colorado Springs, then east across Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, clipped the northwestern tip of Ohio, and entered Port Huron. From there the route swung into Canada before dropping south again, to their destination, Camp Shanks.
At various places along the route, the trains stopped. Hundreds of travel-weary 99ers jumped off. They were given a few minutes to limber up before strenuous calisthenics. At a stop in Kansas, an oval track around a football field beckoned. Vaulting the fence, 99ers barreled around the track at full speed. Witnesses were amazed.
“How come all you guys can run lickety split around the track and end up breathing as normally as when you started?”
“Simple, friend! When you charge up mountains to 12,000 feet altitude carrying a load equal to ¾ of your own weight, you develop more endurance than you can imagine! Lungs expand to make even the puniest runt barrel chested!” GIs the world over had a reputation for smearing it on a bit thick now and then, and 99ers were no exception.
The days at Camp Shanks were hectic. New equipment was issued, orientations were scheduled, and inoculations were plentiful. At the end there wasn’t a 99er who hadn’t had a shot of everything available, except whiskey and aquavit!9
It was only a matter of a few days before the battalion, re-outfitted and inoculated, mounted trucks and a few hours later unloaded in the New York harbor area, there to board the SS Mexico. As the coastal banana boat glided out past the Statue of Liberty, tear-rimmed eyes beheld America’s symbol of freedom…many of them for the last time!10
The SS Mexico
“We gonna cross the Atlantic in this tub?”
“Whaddaya expect…first-class accommodations on the Queen Mary?”
Silence.
“Ya think we’ll be going over alone or in a convoy?”
“Either way, we’re safe…”
“How d’ya figure that?”
“The Krauts ain’t gonna waste a torpedo on this overgrown tugboat!”
“Even if they don’t, ya think this boat is safe?”
“This ain’t a boat…it’s a SHIP! Don’t let a crewman hear you call it a boat, or he’ll probably throw you overboard!”
Idle chatter designed to take the edge off the gnawing feeling in the pit of the stomach that comes from the apprehension and uncertainty of what lies ahead.
Nosing its way through the Narrows, the SS Mexico steamed around the Brooklyn “horn.” Brooklynites crowded the deck to peer fondly at the landmarks they knew so well. The haze of the late September afternoon soon obliterated the New York skyline as the seagoing vessel wallowed into the waves.
***
As the sun broke above a watery horizon, the following morning guards manning post on the top deck were amazed to see the SS Mexico in the middle of a huge convoy. The entire flotilla seemed to sit motionless on the Atlantic. There were ships of all sizes in front and back, to the left and right. Sleek Navy destroyers and a cruiser patrolled the outer fringes of the convoy.
A penetrating chill borne on the winds of the North Atlantic broke the monotony of a complacent sea. The ship transporting the 99ers rode the waves as gamely as any, though many a Midwesterner succumbed to the annoyance of seasickness. Adding to their physical discomfort was the mental anguish of sweating out frequent alerts which, often as not, were punctuated by the hollow boom of distant depth charges.
On the 11th day after leaving New York, the convoy dissipated as it approached the coastline of Scotland, [and the men were thrilled at] the sight of approaching fighter planes. Excitement rose as the sleek British Spitfires roared overhead. In a matter of a few hours, the ship eased its way toward the harbor.11
Upon leaving the ship, men of the Viking Battalion were treated to Scottish hospitality as they gratefully partook of “TAY and KROMP-its” (tea and cookies) offered by ladies manning food carts outside of the nearby railroad station. After a hasty repast the men boarded quaint troop trains which, 16 hours later, arrived near Perham Downs Camp, Tidworth, Wiltshire, England.
***
Officers in charge of orientation classes jovially laid it on the line: “The first thing we have to do, men, is to learn to talk English!” To illustrate that the language was a bit different in England, an example was given:
Two Englishmen were admitted to the hospital. To alleviate the starchiness and boredom, they spoke to each other.
“Did you come in here to-DIE?” ask the one.
“No,” the other answered. “I came here yester-DIE.”
In addition to the little booklet explaining the differences between terms used stateside and in England, there were a host of “Don’ts”:
“Don’t refer to an Englishman as a ‘Limey’…
“Don’t be a know-it-all…
“Don’t guzzle your beer…sip it like the natives do…
“Don’t reveal the identity or purpose of our unit to anyone—especially the British military…
“Above all, DON’T TALK NORWEGIAN! It sounds too much like German!”
In spite of the latter, it occasionally happened that 99ers on a pass “forgot” and were arrested by British MPs who suspected them of being German spies! On such occasions, getting back to the 99th usually proved to be a hassle and a half!
England
Except for the mattress covers that enlisted men had to fill with straw, the barracks of Perham Downs exceeded expectations. The buildings were of brick and had baths and recreational facilities. The camp had previously been occupied by British soldiers and the surrounding terrain was ideally suited to infantry training. Equidistant from the cities of Andover and Salisbury (pronounced AHN-dau-VAH and SELLS-bri by the English) the camp gave 99ers an opportunity to visit either city frequently.
It seemed a foregone conclusion that training in England would be different than “the same old thing” of charging up and down the steepest, highest hills in the vicinity as the battalion had done near Fort Snelling and at Camp Hale. The men assumed England was the last step before engaging in actual combat either in Norway or France.
Training began shortly after arriving at Perham Downs. Long hikes that wound through the quaint English countryside were interspersed with classes, lectures, orientations, tactical problems, weapons familiarization, firing rocket launchers, and mortar exercises using live ammunition. Days-long marches honed physical stamina, and simulated combat often left the individual to his own resources.
Over 100 men were sent to St. Agnes in Cornwall to fire .30- and .50-caliber machine guns. Others were taught to make flotation devices by shaping tree branches into a circular frame to which shelter halves were attached. Two dozen 99ers also completed combat swimming courses in London.
In a test of endurance instigated by the War Department, 300 99ers conducted a rations test in the dreary Dartmoor Forest. Each day for 15 days the contingent marched an average of 20 miles a day under full field pack, all the while slashing across swampy land and through the marshes of the moors with rain pelting them day after day.
Each participant was weighed in the morning and evening. Accurate records were kept of rations eaten, palatability of rations, and each man’s physical condition.
All possessions were carried in field packs. Tents and bedding were continuously damp due to the waterlogged ground on which they slept. Unrelenting rain during the day didn’t help matters any.
On the rare days when the sun would appear for a few hours, it was common to see a country squire starchily dressed in a shirt and vest, knickers, argyle socks, and brown oxfords waiting at the roadside until the men had marched by. The contemptuous stare of the nattily attired Englishman translated into the two words most commonly heard by GIs and 99ers alike: “Bloody Yanks!”
After the rations test was completed, the results were evaluated by representatives from the War Department and the SOS.12 The test won laurels from the War Department. It was definitely another star in the 99th crown!
Back at camp participants noticed their feet had turned brown from the dye in their perpetually wet boots.
“Look at that!” blurted one of them. “My muscles must have turned into bands of steel … How else could my feet get so rusty?”
***
It is safe to say the 99ers greeted the new year, 1944, with elation. Months and months of rugged training had had a definite purpose, and the men felt 1944 would be the year in which they could settle a few scores with the Nazis. There seemed to be a growing consensus, though, that their cherished goal of invading Norway would not come to pass.
This is not to say there were not feelings of foreboding. They had seen firsthand the widespread devastation in England brought by the Nazis’ saturation bombing raids. Targets did not appear to have been selected. Civilian populations had suffered as badly as so-called military targets. Occasional meetings with English soldiers who had survived the hell of Dunkirk revealed the bestiality of the Nazi war machine.
Assuming the same conditions existed in Norway, especially, as well as other occupied European countries, the 99ers’ hatred for the Nazis rose to a fever pitch!
Glanusk Park
Around the middle of January an announcement was made:
“We are moving to Glanusk Park Camp near Abergavenny in Brecknockshire, South Wales. The nearest town is known as Crickhowell...!”
A beautiful countryside greeted the 99ers as they entered South Wales. Glanusk Park Camp was a picturesque, inviting area. A stately looking building, Glanusk Castle, would house the battalion headquarters staff, while the rest of the men were in Nissen huts. Adding to the pleasantness of the camp were the Welsh people, all of whom were very friendly and outgoing.
Surrounding the camp were high, steep, rugged hills. In Wales they were referred to as mountains, though 99ers who compared them to the Colorado Himalayas, downgraded the terrain features to that of “just plain hills.”
Whether small mountains or just plain hills, they were to prove formidable barriers to the men who were at once thrown against them in a new, vigorous training program. Bone-chilling winds tore at the men on long day-night marches, and woe to the nicotine fiend who tried to light a match at night for a quick drag or two. The physical aspects of training grew more strenuous in an atmosphere of “simulated combat conditions.”
Maneuvers with tanks, using live ammo on field exercises, as well as boning up for physical dexterity that was needed to compete against British home guards on combat courses, honed the 99th to a razor-sharp edge. In the latter, Viking competitors performed so fantastically that Welsh observers praised the 99th’s proficiency.
***
On a cold, rainy night at Glanusk the lilting notes of an accordion beckoned. Upon hearing the music one of the men waded through the rain and mud toward the source of the music.
After the outside Nissen door slammed shut, the blackout curtain parted to reveal a dismal-looking fan. Water dripped off his helmet onto his rivulet-infested raincoat. A crescent-shaped puddle of water gathered round his muddy boots and soaked pants cuffs. Wiping the water from his face and eyes he cast a glance at the musician, then threw up his hands in dismay.
“Nei, Fah’n skjaere mig, da! Her kommer e sørpande vaat a me møkk te knee-arna mine for aa høre knosert fra’n Tollefson, men saa er de bare han Arneson som sitter der aa klonker paa trek-spill!”
(Translation: “Well I’ll be damned! Here I am, soaking wet and with mud up to my knees just to hear a concert by Tollefson, and all I find is Arneson sitting there horsing around on the accordion!”)
