Reflections on the 83^rd’s Return Trip to Europe

June 16-28, 1999

by Bill T. Arnold

In June, 1999, I had the privilege of traveling with my father, and twelve other members of the 83^rd Infantry Division to Europe to commemorate their service there fifty-five years earlier.  We retraced their steps through France, Luxembourg, Belgium, the Netherlands, and Germany, and celebrated their role in the liberation of these countries from Nazi oppression.  There were many experiences during these days of travel that aroused emotions ranging from humorous, to morbid, to sobering, but all of them gave rise to the deepest feelings of appreciation, respect and gratitude.

The first day in Normandy began with a visit to the Landings Museum at Arromanches, which preserves what is left of the prefabricated Mulberry harbor on Gold Beach.  After the museum, our group stopped briefly at the American Military Cemetery at Colleville-sur-Mer.  Dad and I had been there in 1997, so we knew what to expect.  We knew just how beautiful the spot is, and how emotional it can be to see it.  I think what surprised me was that it was just as emotional the second time there as the first.  We were fortunate enough to be there right at noon, so we got to hear the chimes playing “America the Beautiful,” and “Battle Hymn of the Republic.”  We posed for photos on the cliff overlooking Omaha Beach.  It was really meaningful to be there with Dad, Cecil, AT, Jerry, Arnie, Jesse Beasley, who landed at Omaha on D-Day, and Don Farmer, who served in the Korean War.  I watched as one member of our group gathered his family around him, including grandchildren and told stories of how it was back then (Mr. Kirby).  While we were exiting the chapel at the center of the cemetery, a stranger walked up to Mr. Beasley and asked if he were in the war.  When he said he was, she asked him for a favor.  She said her father was a veteran of WWII, but he is dead now.  After being here at the cemetery, she really felt a need to talk to him about his experiences and to try to understand better what it was like.  She asked Jesse to describe some of his experiences, and she and her daughter stood there crying and listening.  After a few minutes, they all hugged, and it was over.

Later that afternoon, we came to the little town of Sainteny, just inland from the beaches.  As we arrived I heard the town’s church bells tolling in that beautiful and distinctive way that only European churches sound.  I remember wondering why the bells were tolling, and that we were lucky to have arrived just in time to hear them.  Then I saw what must have been the town’s entire population gathered at the church to greet us as we stepped down from the bus.  It was then that I realized the town’s bells were tolling for us.  They greeted us with the most incredible appreciation and respect.  We were all genuinely moved and stunned by the reception.  After a time of introductions and greetings, we all gathered - citizens of Sainteny, members of the 83^rd and their families - at the church’s cemetery.  There the mayor and his town council, some of whom were veterans of the war, placed a wreath at a monument to the French war dead and we all observed a moment of silence.  Then the town council collected the colors (American and French flags), and organized a parade (I’m not making this up!), with all American and French veterans marching behind the colors.  They marched through the churchyard onto the main little road leading into the center of town (see figure 21). The citizens of Sainteny and the families of the veterans followed behind.  Those of us who were able ran ahead to photograph this reverential and moving scene; these elderly veterans, many of the French proudly wearing their medals and emblems of their war service, side-by-side marching through the little town that had suffered so much during the occupation of German troops.

 Parade at Sainteny.  Dad and the mayor lead the parade.

Finally the processional arrived at a square in the town center.  To my surprise, I realized that the primary marker in the square was a stone monument dedicated to the US 83^rd Infantry Division, with appropriate expressions of gratitude for liberating Sainteny in July, 1944.  There was another wreath, and another moment of silence to remember the American war dead.  Then there were speeches by the mayor, who spoke movingly about his experiences as a child during the war.  After the war, his mother used to reminisce about the sound of the Nazi goose-stepping troops, with their heels striking against the stone sidewalk outside their house.  Then Dad, representing the entire 83^rd, made a speech and presented the town with a beautiful plaque with expressions of gratitude for our friendship with the citizens of Sainteny.  As this part of the ceremonies were drawing to a close, Col Joseph H. MacAluso (whom I would get to know better at the 83^rd reunion at Lexington in August of that year), stepped forward with a lady and whispered something to the French tour guide.  She explained that Elizabeth Brusa’s father had been a member of the 83^rd, and that he had been killed in Sainteny.  The mayor was nearly overcome by emotion.  He gave another speech in which he attempted to honor the sacrifice of all those who lost their lives in the liberation of this little town.  Mrs. Brusa later gave me a copy of the official recommendation for Lieutenant Colonel James F. Faber to receive the Congressional Medal of Honor (posthumously).  He was a member of the 331^st  regiment, and was killed on July 10, 1944 while supervising the evacuation of  wounded from the city after it had been counterattacked by the Germans.

The people of Sainteny were not finished.  After these speeches and the exchanging of gifts, they invited us to the town hall for a reception.  The reception hall had been elaborately decorated with 83^rd memorabilia and mementos.  We were all shocked by the loving care and attention to detailed preparation that must have gone into this special day.

Dad and the mayor of Sainteny, after the ceremony in which Dad represented the 83rd and presented the city with this beautiful plaque.  June 18, 1999.

At the reception there were toasts, hors d'oeuvres, and yet more speeches by the town mayor.  After the reception, we were taken to a local restaurant on the outskirts of town, where the townspeople treated us to an elaborate seven-course meal.  The wall-hangings in the restaurant were all 83^rd-related themes, including a framed map of the division's advance into the city, and a detailed description of the costly fight for the city on July 4-26 (see Appendix III below).  Of course, the meal was interrupted more than once for the mayor to make other speeches. All in all, it was a wonderful day.  We were all profoundly moved by the people of Sainteny.  Young and old alike remember and appreciate what members of the 83^rd did to liberate their city from the Nazi occupation.  It seemed remarkable that they were more grateful and seemed more determined to honor the sacrifices of US troops during July, 1944, than most people in America today. 

The next day, we were going through the famous city of Saint Lô, which was so strategic in the breakout of Normandy and came at such a great cost to the Allies.  We were disappointed that we would not have time to spend there, because the 83^rd had not gone through it during the war.  But it so happened that the tour bus stopped there anyway and let us out for a thirty-minute break.  Several of us (Dad, Cecil, AT, Jerry, Arnie, Don Farmer, and Jesse Beasley) were walking through town, and quite by accident came upon the city's famous church.[1]  The church had suffered massive destruction and is still covered with bullet holes.  Upon arriving home I found the photograph in figure 23, which matches several I took from almost the same spot.

Later that day, we made our way to the important port city of Saint Malo in Brittany.  We did not know what to expect other than the fact that Dad had several memories of the battle for the famous Citadel there, and that there would be another mayoral reception for our group.  Were we ever in for a surprise! 

We were taken into the ancient city walls of the medieval fortress in the center of modern Saint Malo.  We were hosted at a reception by Monsieur Christian Delmotte, Directeur de Cabinet de René Couanau, Député-Maire de Saint-Malo.  Standing in front of an elaborate tapestry in the round tower of the medieval fortress, Mr. Delmotte gave an impressive speech, in which he expressed the undying gratitude of the citizens of Saint Malo to the veterans of the 83^rd Infantry Division for liberating the city in August, 1944.  Even through translation, the members of our tour were moved by how sincere and genuine his appreciation was, even though he himself was too young to remember the war.  He presented each of us with a book about Saint Malo during the war years, and immediately after.[2]  The book is a beautiful pictorial history, and contains many references to the 83^rd.  Then Dad gave a speech expressing the friendship and mutual admiration shared between members of the 83^rd Infantry Division and Saint Malo, and he presented Mr. Delmotte with the plaque from the division.  Our host seemed deeply moved.  He spoke again and told us dramatically that wherever else we may go, we must remember that we will "always have a home in Saint Malo."  He also gave most of us lapel pins displaying the Saint Malo coat of arms, which I often wear with pride.

After this emotional reception, Mr. Delmotte proudly led us on a tour of the ancient fortress, including a walking tour around the turrets, with a spectacular view of the harbor and the city in general.  It was most impressive!  Throughout the tour, Dad kept saying nothing seemed familiar and that this was definitely not the fortress that he had helped capture.  We thought our time in Saint Malo was nearly over, and we were a little disappointed that none of the places so vivid in Dad's memory were part of our time here.  But then our bus took us out to the edge of the city to a park.  As we rounded a corner and came to a small hill, I heard Dad say, "This is it!"   On a ridge in the park stood several German pillboxes, which had labyrinthine underground quarters for troops (see Dad's description above of his role in the capture of the citadel).  To Dad's surprise, the area had been turned into a beautiful park (we saw a young family there enjoying an outing that afternoon), and the citizens of Saint Malo had turned the fortress itself into a museum dedicated to the 83^rd Infantry Division.  What a shock!  As we unloaded the bus, we were met by two English speaking guides.  Their job was to lead visitors through the museum, explaining how the German soldiers lived in the bunkers and the details of the battle in August, 1944.  They divided our group into two, and assigned a guide for each of us.  As we were following our guide into the bunkers, preparing to enter into the underground section of the fortress, our guide turned and asked if any of the veterans of our group had actually been part of the battle for the citadel.  When Dad said, "Yes, I was here," the young guide looked shocked.  I doubt if he had ever actually met any of the soldiers he talked about in his memorized presentations. 

From that point, he treated Dad like a hero and an authority on the details of the battle.  Periodically he would stop his routine lecture, look at Dad and ask, "Is that right, Sir?" or "Would you like to add anything, Sir?"  One of the rooms of the museum contained a case with pictures of an AT-Co squad firing a 57-mm gun just like Dad's.  The case also housed an empty shell from a 57-mm gun.  Dad explained to the group that this was his job, and we even stared at the picture for a while to determine if this was in fact Dad's squad.  Probably not, though.  I took a photograph of the guide with Dad in front of the case (figure 25).  The whole group seemed to appreciate Dad's contribution to the capture of the fortress.  When the day was over, I was amazed to consider the fact that these bunkers of Saint Malo were still standing, no longer as a fortification against the forces of freedom, but a museum honoring the courage and fortitude of the boys of the 329^th who captured it.  I don't believe I could be any more proud of my father than that day!  I will always remember the look of that young Frenchman's face when he realized he was speaking to one of the heroes who actually fought the good fight he had studied

Venerated hero with the museum guide at St. Malo. 

The case contains the kind of shell Dad's 57-mm gun used.  June 19, 1999.

We loaded the bus outside the fortress to leave our new friends in Saint Malo.  Mr. Delmotte waved good-bye to us through the bus windows, and then gave a final greeting by making the V-for Victory sign, and all the veterans immediately returned the gesture.  When I returned home, I discovered that the 329^th made some noise when they captured this German stronghold.  After they took it, members of the regiment mounted a US flag in the barrel of a German anti-aircraft gun on the top of the bunkers, while someone in the press took a photograph (figure 26 below).  I was told by Sergeant Louis Sandini of the 322^nd Field Artillery during the 83^rd reunion of 1999 that the photograph originally appeared in Stars and Stripes, and eventually was used in Collier's History of World War II in 1946.  Mr. Sandini pointed out with a great deal of pride that this picture antedated by six months the more famous picture taken at Mt. Suribachi on Iwo Jima, when the marines raised Ole' Glory after that bloody battle.  Mr. Sandini was gracious enough to send a copy of the picture to include here.

At left, members of the 83rd celebrate their capture of the bunker of St. Malo shortly after the battle.  This is the photograph that appeared in Stars and Stripes during the war.  The anti-aircraft gun used to hold Ole' Glory was still in place on top of the citadel, as seen in the photo at right, taken by Arnie Edwards on June 19, 1999.  It now stands as a monument to the courage and sacrifices of the US 83rd Infantry Division.

Before my trip with the 83^rd in June, 1999, I was aware of only two American cemeteries in Europe, the one in Cambridge and the one at Colleville-sur-Mer in Normandy (see above).  But I subsequently learned that we actually have 24 permanent American cemeteries on foreign soil, 20 of these in Europe, due mostly to the two world wars.[3]  Our trip included a wreath laying ceremony at General Patton's grave in Luxembourg, which proved to be quite emotional for all the veterans. To a man, they all felt an uncommon loyalty and appreciation for Patton, even after all these years.  As he would have it, he is buried with his men in Luxembourg, though the cemetery had to make his grave a separate section because of the many thousands of visitors each year.  The cemetery outside of Luxembourg City was a special highlight for our family because Uncle Cecil had been an MP who stood honor guard at Patton's bier in December, 1945.  It was particularly moving for him to return and pay homage once again to the General. 

At yet another mayoral reception (Grevenmacher, Luxembourg), I met Jean-Pierre Schiltz.[4]  I first noticed him because his English was so good, but we did not have occasion to talk until we met again at the Luxembourg cemetery later that day.  I said, “weren’t you just in Grevenmacher?” and we started to talk.  He had been following our tour bus in order to participate in our various memorial activities in Luxembourg.  As his story unfolded, it struck me as rather remarkable.  He was born shortly after the war and grew up within walking distance of the American cemetery in Luxembourg.  He said he often played in the cemetery as a small boy, so much so that his mother learned to look for him there first whenever she could not find him.  He has a deep-seated appreciation for American veterans.  He was moved by the cemetery ceremony, and we had a warm conversation immediately after the ceremony.  He introduced me to a Lt. Col. of the US army who now lives in Luxembourg, and a St. Sg. who was at Remagen Bridge (names escaped me).  Schiltz followed our bus back to the hotel in Luxembourg City, and greeted us again in the lobby.  I introduced him to Dad, and his entire demeanor changed.  He shook Dad’s hand warmly, looked him straight in the eye, and said, “Sir, I want you to know that all I have and all that I am, I owe to you boys.  I will never forget you.”  We were moved, and will certainly never forget Mr. Schiltz.  He also told us about a Mr. John Vaccarro, who was a member of the 83^rd and is currently making a film about the division entitled, “From Normandy to the Elbe.” 

Returning to the bunker at Saint Malo after 55 years.  Instead of a stronghold against the forces of freedom, the bastion now stands as a museum honoring the young men who liberated it.  This is the entrance to the museum, which proudly displays the emblem of the US 83rd Infantry Division in its name.

On June 25, we arrived at the Henri-Chapelle American Cemetery in Belgium.  By now I had learned how emotional these cemeteries could be, but I was not prepared for what happened next.  The veterans were gathering in the office, and picking up copies of a list of members of the 83^rd buried at Henri-Chapelle.  I was studying an enormous map on the office wall explaining details of the Battle of the Bulge.  Just then, I felt someone tap me on the shoulder and turned to see Dad holding a copy of the list and looking rather surprised.  He was pointing to a name he recognized.  When I read it I could hardly believe it, but there was Midday Delfonte’s name.[5]  He is buried at Henri-Chapelle, Plot F Row 16 Grave 3.  Dad said he could not understand why any family would let their boy be buried so far from home, but obviously many were buried here.  He could not remember much about Delfonte’s family, except that he was older than most of the other boys, and that he was from West Virginia.

As Dad and I walked alone among the beautiful crosses, I thought of the fifty-five years that had passed.  His friend had not been able to return to the US and raise a family, or enjoy a career, or see his grandchildren grow into young adulthood.  Now after all these years Dad was returning to pay solemn tribute to his fallen friend.  What an honor it was to stand beside my father at that moment!  We posed for pictures, and Jerry and Arnie came and took more pictures.  It was kind of quiet and I think we all realized how sad yet important this was.  I suddenly realized my own great debt, a debt that I can never possibly repay.  I owe Midday Delfonte and thousands like him who gave all their tomorrows so that I may live today.  All of us who enjoy the benefits of this country owe my father, my uncles, and thousands like them who returned after the war to show us the way silently and faithfully.  And we owe God for his gift of life and freedom.  Standing there with my father and Delfonte in the Henri-Chapelle cemetery, I resolved to remember our veterans and to live a life worthy of their sacrifices.

[1] Louis Pottier and Philippe Petout, Saint-Malo 1940-1948: L’occupation, la libération, la reconstruction (Rennes: Editions Ouest-France, 1994). 

[1] The gaunt remains of the cathedral of Notre-Dame rise from the ruins of Saint-Lô, a strategic Normandy crossroads, almost 95% destroyed.  Captured by the US 29^th Division, July 18, 1944.  One of the GI’s noted, “We sure liberated the hell out of this place.” WWII: Time-Life Books History of the Second World War (New York: Prentice-Hall, 1989), 303.

[1] Ambrose, Citizen Soldiers, 73-76, and Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, 138-43.  This is the site where members of the 29^th placed Major Tom Howie's body on a bier of rubble in front of the ruins of the sixteenth-century Church of Notre-Dame, and the flag-draped body of the "Major of St. Lô," became the symbol of the battle and of its over 5,000 American casualties.

Sergeant Arnold with his fallen friend, Midday Delfonte at the Henri-Chapelle American Cemetery in Belgium, June 25, 1999.