Surviving D-Day and the Battle of the Bulge

(Editor’s note: On May 29, the new World War II Memorial on the Mall in Washington, D.C., will be dedicated. American Legion Post 283 will host a corresponding event on that Saturday to honor Westside veterans and to observe the memorial dedication. The festivities will begin at 11 a.m. with a satellite broadcast of the dedication ceremony, followed at noon by a patriotic program and luncheon. Veterans who wish to attend or would like a Certificate of Appreciation should write to the American Legion at 15247 La Cruz Dr., Pacific Palisades, CA 90272 and provide their name, address, phone number, branch and years of service, and whether or not they can attend. The following story is the second of three articles revisiting WWII through the experiences of three Palisades veterans. Next week: Navy war photographer Loran Smith.) By JOSEPH M. KLEIN Special to the Palisadian-Post My memories of June 6, 1944’D-Day’include the problems we had disembarking from the troopship that carried us close to the Normandy beach area called ‘Omaha Red.’ I was the platoon leader. We used cargo nets to climb into the landing craft, and this was almost as scary as being under fire. The sea was rough and it took great timing and skill to reach the craft. Fortunately, many in my platoon were well prepared for this after our training and experience of landings in North Africa and Sicily. I also recall my feelings of responsibility and how I felt that all eyes of my men were on me, obviously hoping for good leadership and an example of how to act. I was 22 years old and a fairly new officer. We landed on the beach as the third wave, but enemy fire was still reaching the beach and we could see many casualties. Although my platoon suffered a few casualties, we reached the beach and continued moving to reach our initial objective, which was a small town up some hills and a few miles inland. Shortly after reaching the beach, an enemy artillery or mortar shell exploded close to me, injuring my radio operator, and I felt an impact in my lower right side. I felt liquid running down my right leg and thought that I was hit in my rear end. My first reaction was this might be a ‘million-dollar wound,’ as we described it in the infantry. Not life-threatening, but serious enough to be evacuated and get out danger. When I reached down to feel where the injury was, the liquid was not blood, as I thought, but water. A shell fragment had struck my canteen, which was on my hip. I had to continue to lead my men forward. The rest of the Normandy battle was tough, fighting in hedgerows that gave cover to the resisting Germans, who fought bravely. As we know, the campaign was successful. o o o Our unit was fighting along the Siegfried Line in Germany in late December 1944, when the Germans counterattacked the Allies in Belgium and Luxembourg. On December 24, our division was ordered to proceed north and west to attack the Germans on their left flank. We were transported on trucks and tanks to a heavily wooded area near a town called Schuttrange in eastern Luxembourg. We had no detailed maps of the area, but were given the objective of contacting the Germans and killing or capturing as many as possible. Our company commander had become quite ill and was evacuated, and I, although a first lieutenant at that time, was appointed acting company commander. I remember it was a clear and sunny morning when we reached our embarking position. The weather had been quite stormy and snowing, hindering our air support and reconnaissance. My lead platoon leader was disoriented owing to lack of detailed maps. I proceeded to contact him at the very front to help out. The area was heavily wooded and the ground was covered with snow. I happened to looked ahead and saw some fresh dirt at the base of a tree up the hill and about 50 yards away. I was just about to warn those with me of the position when I saw a flash and felt an impact, which knocked me down. My abdomen hurt and my leg went numb, but I did not think I was seriously hurt. I hit the ground and started firing into the enemy position. A hand came up and I ceased firing and a German soldier emerged with his hands up. I waved to him to come toward me. When he was about 10 yards away, he lowered a hand toward his pistol and I shot and killed him. My radio operator then called for medics to help me. I also called for my second-in-command and briefed him about our position and objectives and effectively turned over command of our company. When the medics arrived, I was informed that my injuries were serious and they would get me to the aid station as soon as possible. In order to carry me down to the nearest road, about a quarter of a mile away, they used the German’s overcoat as a litter and then placed me on the jeep ambulance litter to carry me to the aid station. They placed the litter on the ground along with several litters carrying wounded. Although I was covered with a GI blanket, the German coat remained outside, covering me from head to below the knees. By that time I was barely conscious, having lost much blood (although I was later told the cold weather helped reduce the bleeding). I heard one medic, pointing to me, say to another, ‘That guy looks pretty bad; we better get him in to the doctors.’ The other replied, ‘To hell with that Kraut bastard, let’s take care of our own guys first.’ I was able to call out and say ‘Look at my dog tags, I’m one of you.’ They then rushed me in. After I was operated on and treated, I woke up the next day, Christmas Day, and had tubes in my arms and abdomen, and I thought ‘Christmas dinner!’ When the surgeon came in to see me, after the exam, he said, ‘Lieutenant, you were badly wounded, but I am sure you will live to be 45.’ I was quite happy with that comment, since I had just turned 23 at that time. I proceeded to spend 18 months in hospitals, receiving various treatments, until I was honorably discharged from the Army as a captain in 1946. I am still rated 60 percent disabled by the Army but have been, thankfully, able to live a productive life. (A note from Managing Editor Bill Bruns: After I met with Joe Klein, 82, and encouraged him to write about his personal memories of D-Day and the Battle of the Bulge, he sent his article with the following message: ‘This is the first time I have done anything like this; I hope it’s what you wanted. As I told you, although I have received combat decorations, I don’t consider myself to be superior to any of the thousands of other combat veterans, and never boast about it. I am also grateful for my military experiences, good and bad, as it certainly helped in life in every respect.’ Joe started his business career as a sales representative for Clary Corporation, a business machines manufacturer, and later was recruited to become president of NBC International in New York City. From 1966 until his retirement in 1990, he served as an executive with Cyprus Mines Corporation and Pluess-Staufer Industries, a multinational mining company. Joe married Betty Northington in 1948 and they have lived in Pacific Palisades since 1966. They have four children.)