03 Jul July 3, 1945

letter
from: PFC George W. Shonkwiler
to: Mrs. Alice Shonkwiler
Compiegne, France
3 July 1945, Tuesday 6.30 p.m.
Noteworthy: key letter -- Dad reviews his trip from USA to England, across

England and to France, across France to the front -- intense.
Dearest Alice and Ronnie,

It seems to me about one year ago now I was enjoying a furlough back where
there is only one place to enjoy one.  And it was marred a little of course,
because of that little voyage I knew I was soon to make.  But right now I
wouldn’t be worrying a bit about making the voyage back again.  A full year
away from you and Ronnie and home, that is a long time and one filled with
plenty of new experiences.  It’s hard to say which experiences will stay with
me longest and which ones were the most important.  Suppose one would think,
and it is possibly so, that the few hours preceding, during, and immediately
after being injured in Germany will remain with me longer than any one event
in the last year.  However, the trip back to England as a patient was filled
with pain and something

page 2
new all the time.  The most remarkable, I think, of all that was the excellent
care and manner in which the evacuation itself was carried out.

Then, of course, there was the few hours before getting on board the USS Brooks
for the trip over here crossing New York Harbor, past the Statue of Liberty,
which we could hardly see for the blinding, setting sun, and walking up the
gangplank in late evening with a brass band blaring away all the more
conspicuous, because that was absolutely the only person or persons allowed
there to see us off.  Oh, yes, there was, of course, the <? in efitable> Red
Cross caravan passing out doughnuts and some lemon drink that most everyone
poured on the ground.  Then, early the next morning, the slow, painful sailing
through the harbor mine fields, and out in the Atlantic, where we caught up
with our convoy.  Ships in front, rear, and on both sides, as far as we could
see, and of all descriptions.

Page 3.
The next eleven days, I suffered first from a heat wave, then seasickness, then
around Iceland, nearly nearly froze to death then we rode out a storm, plus
more <? funny> feeling in our stomachs, and always nothing but soldiers all
around, under you, over you, and up against you, all trying to find some way to
pass the time.  On clear days away out in front, the destroyers racing around,
and around like a sheep dog watching his flock.  Land was a welcome sight I
can tell you.  It was beautiful, green Scotland.  We finally pulled up at
<? Gorick>, Scotland where I thought all the boats in the world were
concentrated, including aircraft carriers, warships of all kinds, and
transports, even the Queen Mary.  It was a funny feeling to step on solid
ground again.  It seemed like the loading platform was still going up and
down even after

page 4.
some four hours of waiting for a third class funny little English trains
that was to take us the full length of England to our first destination
overseas.  It was on this ride that we heard our first "any gum chum", from
the thousands of kids that lined the railroad waiting for the ever generous
Joe to hand out anything he might have available.  That "any gum chum" got
pretty notorious before I got out of England for good though.

The next few weeks were spent wondering just about what this war was all about
never doubting that I would never be sent to the actual battle front.  Even
when we were loaded on trains one night at two o’clock in the morning ending

up in Southampton, England, the jumping off place for France, did we think any
different.  Omaha Beach was an interesting mess after the relative an
impressive channel crossing.  One wonders how our boys ever got ashore and up
that hill at all.

Page 5.
I know I had a hell of a time and we didn’t have to worry about [Huns] mines
or any thing of that sort when we went in.  The next three to four miles of
mud were the hardest I have ever walked.  I thought my heavy pack, some 80 to
100 pounds plus rifle and steel helmet would drive me right into the ground.
The next four days was my first view of what was to come, pup tents, cold
muddy ground for a bed and no food not even rations -- that is until we went
on a raiding party back to the beach where we lugged back boxes of C rations
that were scattered around.  We were a happy bunch when that French convoy of
trucks took us out of that hole.  If we had only known what was ahead, we
wouldn’t have been so happy.  The next three days were spent in the good ole
French 40 and 8’s, Forty men, bag and baggage

page 6
piled in a cattle car about two-thirds the size of our cattle cars back in the
States.  Did you ever try sleeping, half sitting up, half standing up, and half
lying down for three nights in a row plus freezing cold and a dozen GIs all
over you?  That’s real discomfort.  Plus that we had one canteen of fresh water
for the three days.  Believe it or not, but after the first day we were
catching live steam from the engine, putting <? some bulleai> powder in it and
that along with C rations was our menu and liquids for the three days.
Needless to say, we were a sorry bunch when we finally arrived at a camp
outside of Le Mans, France at midnite one nite.  But that wasn’t the end.  We
still had a four-mile hike with full field pack and then pitching pup tents
in the wee hours of the morning, without lights, with mud, and so on.  Yes, we
still knew we would never be sent to the front, why we were all a bunch of
specialists and

page 7
cripples.  They couldn’t have any use for us in the infantry.  We had, by this
time, gotten over the idea that the war would be over before we could get there
anyway though.  You see it was now Nov. and we all had a feeling that there
would be at least six months more of war.  We were damn sure of it a week later
when they loaded us in trucks and we took a long, fast, 14-hour freezing ride
across France ending up in the 95th Division and most of us riflemen in the
infantry.  You know pretty well the rest.  Yes, it will be hard to pick up
just one thing that will seem more important in this last year of events.  Even
Paris, VE Day, the French, the war prisoners coming home and many many others.
This last year really hasn’t been so

page 8
long after all.  I wonder what the next one will bring.  There must be an end
to all this war, separation, and grief someday.  Perhaps the coming year will
see that end.  I hope so.

11.30 p.m.
I was rudely interrupted some five hours ago and have been winning back at
poker all I lost last night plus some nine or ten hundred francs.  I am now
about one hundred francs winner since coming in the hospital.  You see, I
really play for pleasure, it seems.

They are having a dance in the mess hall just below our ward tonight so there
isn’t much use trying to go to sleep.  Patients are not allowed.  Not that I
would have gone, but there are a lot of fellows here that would have gone if
they had been allowed.

Well, I may be out of here yet this week.  Not that I am cured

page 9
but I guess they are just giving up on me.  Anyhow, the doctor said to stop
the spraying again today, and that’s usually a good sign that I’ll be out in
about two days.  Personally, I’m just as glad.  After seeing some of the skin
cases in here now I know I haven’t a chance for a discharge, so I might as well
go back to work and hope we beat hell out of Japan in a couple three months.

No mail for three straight days now, and tomorrow is July 4th so suppose that
will make four, as they have really declared a holiday in the Army.  No one
works.  Well that brings me up to date.  I didn’t write last night because
there was even less to write about than there is tonight.

page 10
I guess by now you and Ronnie are on your vacation and having a wonderful time,
I hope.  Certainly hope you were able to get a little rest and found everything
alright on your return home.

The dance is still going full blast, and it’s beginning to sound like the beer
thing they are drinking must be plenty strong stuff.  At least it’s having its
effect.  Beer is not for patients either.  We do get Coca-Cola, though, which
really suits me just as well.

Dance or no dance, it’s time I was in bed, and that’s where I’m going right now.
All my love to both of you, and I’m hoping I see you soon.

Love, Daddy.