By Kelly Durham ’80

It was September 11, 2001, and the meeting Eddy Morehead was heading to was cancelled after two airliners crashed into the twin towers of the World Trade Center. Morehead turned and walked back along the second floor of the Pentagon’s corridor and then climbed the steps back to his third-floor office. He couldn’t have known it at the time, but he had twice traversed a section of the building that in 15 minutes would cease to exist.

Colonel Eddy Morehead hurried along the wide corridor of the Pentagon’s E-Ring. He was headed toward his second staff meeting of the still young morning. The first, which had started at 0800, had been chaired by his immediate supervisor, an Army one-star general. Morehead had ducked out of this first conference before it concluded because the next meeting had been called by a two-star general — and in the Army, two stars trump one.

No one who knew Eddy Morehead would have been surprised to find him at the Pentagon at 0600 — 6 a.m. by the civilian clock — that late summer morning, cranking up the coffee maker. His father had retired from the Army after 21 years on active duty including service during World War II, then moved his family of six boys and two girls back to his hometown of Westminster. Five of the Morehead brothers had served in the Army simultaneously, two of them retiring as lieutenant colonels. At Clemson, Eddy had served as commander of the Corps of Cadets his senior year. “We had a very strong ROTC cadre that supported the cadets,” he recalled. “We also got great support from the South Carolina National Guard which provided helicopters for our field training exercises.”

Following his 1977 graduation from Clemson, Eddy attended Army flight school where he earned his wings as a helicopter pilot. His duty assignments included the 101^st Airborne Division at Fort Campbell, Kentucky; overseas postings in Korea and Germany; a tour with the United Nations peacekeeping force in Somalia; stints as both a company and battalion commander; the Industrial College of the Armed Forces; and the Army Command and General Staff School at Fort Leavenworth. Now, he was punching his ticket in the Pentagon, where “colonels were a dime a dozen,” and accustomed to starting the morning coffee.

 

Moving toward the inferno

When Morehead reached the two-star general’s meeting, he found that it had been cancelled. Everyone’s attention had been diverted from routine duties by the drama being played out live on television some 225 miles to the north in New York, where two airliners had crashed into the twin towers of the World Trade Center. Morehead turned around and walked back along the E-Ring corridor’s second floor and then climbed the steps back to his third-floor office. He couldn’t have known it at the time, but he had twice traversed a section of the building that in 15 minutes would cease to exist.

“Once I got back to my office, I remember standing with another colonel and

leaning over the cubicle of one of our co-workers. She was skilled enough on the computer to have pulled up the news on her monitor, and we were watching the coverage from New York,” Morehead recalled. “After a few minutes, I returned to my desk. My phone rang, and it was my wife Prissy, calling to see if I had seen what was going on. We talked for a few minutes and then I hung up.” Almost immediately, at 9:37 a.m., American Airlines Flight 77 slammed into the Pentagon only 60 feet from where Morehead sat. “I actually felt the building shudder and then within a second felt the pressure change as the jet fuel from the airplane exploded. Tiles fell down from the ceiling and windows were blown out.”

Morehead exited his office and stepped into Corridor 4, one of ten hallways laterally connecting the five rings of the Pentagon. “I couldn’t see anything except thick black smoke from the ceiling all the way down to waist level.” But to his left, Morehead could make out the bright glow of flames. Most people headed toward the interior rings of the building and its large courtyard, away from the flames and smoke. Morehead, crouching low, moved toward the inferno. “I wanted to see what was going on, plus I could hear people screaming.”

Dropping into a duck walk to keep his head below the smoke, Morehead watched as dozens of people, service members and civilians alike, streamed past, many bloodied or burned and nearly all covered in black soot. “They looked like coal miners,” he recalled.

Reaching E-Ring, the Pentagon’s outermost section, Morehead and a few others braved the smoke and the increasingly intense flames and began to clear the third-floor offices directly above where the airliner had struck the building. “Debris and rubble covered the floor. We were moving from office to office just trying to make sure no one was trapped.” Morehead worked his way along E-Ring until a wall of flame forced him to turn back, then he searched the offices on the opposite side of the corridor.

“By this time, there was fire all over the place because we were directly above where the plane had impacted.” The trash and debris scattered across the floors by the impact now hid from Morehead and his fellow rescuers that the floor beneath them was cracking and about to collapse. “Chief Warrant Officer Paul Heygood and some Navy guys and I next went up to the fourth floor and then to the fifth floor to clear offices. Then we tried to go down to the second floor, but it was just a ball of fire — there was no second floor left.”

Returning to the third floor, Morehead led the others out into the corridor where the smoke was growing thicker by the minute. “This section of the Pentagon had just been renovated and the renovation had included the installation of these big, heavy metal fire doors that stretched across the corridor. We came out of the stairwell and into the corridor and there was Major Mike Kerzie who had used his body to wedge those doors open. He said ‘I saw you go in there, sir, and I wasn’t going to leave until you came out!’” Kerzie’s action kept Morehead and the others from being trapped in the spreading conflagration.

 

Dents from a Clemson ring

Fires from the burning jet fuel had now spread, and the Pentagon itself was burning. The heat and choking smoke forced Morehead and the small group of rescuers toward the Pentagon’s central courtyard. As they reached the fresh air and sunshine of the courtyard, they encountered a scene unimaginable just an hour before. Medics in bright blue vests were moving among dozens of injured civilians and service members while administering first aid. It was then that Kerzie stopped Morehead with the chilling words, “Sir, we’ve got to go back; I can hear them screaming.”

“The Navy guys knew what to do,” Morehead remembered with admiration for the members of his sister service. “They treated it like a ship-board fire.” Following the sailors’ lead, Morehead, Kerzie and Heygood grabbed fire extinguishers and, wrapping their heads in wet shirts, inched their way into the hole drilled through the first three rings of the building by the nose of the aircraft. “Two of us at a time crawled into the hole and discharged our fire extinguishers until they were all used up. We couldn’t stay in there for more than a few seconds,” so intense was the heat and smoke.

By now, Arlington County firefighters had reached the scene and began to assert control over the fire fighting and rescue operations. Morehead and the others were told to evacuate the area — but they continued to search for ways to assist. At the request of medical personnel, Morehead and his comrades moved medical supplies from the Pentagon’s dispensary to a larger triage site established near the lagoon outside the building’s river entrance. At one point, Morehead used a pair of oversize bolt cutters to break open a locked cabinet containing badly needed medical supplies.

“Somebody grabbed me and said ‘we have a life-or-death’ situation. We had to get an injured lady to the hospital right away.” Morehead accosted the driver of every moving vehicle in the vicinity, including an Air Force general and a local police officer whose K9 partner snarled and barked when Morehead opened the van’s door. Morehead quickly settled on a personal vehicle driven by a lieutenant colonel who was eager to assist. By now, the whole country knew what was happening at the Pentagon. Traffic around the building, always heavy, had come to a complete standstill as roads were blocked and emergency vehicles converged on the scene.

“I sat up in the passenger’s side window and yelled for people to move their cars and let us through,” but the going was too slow and Morehead feared for the life of the injured passenger. Spying a Virginia highway patrolman traveling in the opposite direction, Morehead jumped from his vehicle and flagged the officer down. Quickly explaining the emergency, Morehead convinced the patrolman to escort them to the hospital.

“He got on his loud speaker and began shouting at cars to move out of the way and they did, but as soon as the patrol car got through, the other drivers would pull back in. They didn’t realize we were trying to follow him.” Again Morehead left the vehicle. “I was running between the rows of cars just pounding on them with my fist. There were a lot of Mercedes and BMWs that got dents from a Clemson ring that day.”

Coming upon a large pickup truck, Morehead again took the initiative. “I explained to the driver that we had a ‘life or death,’ and we were trying to get her to the hospital. He just nodded and said ‘follow me.’ And he literally started pushing cars out of the way.” Due to the efforts of Eddy Morehead and the others involved in the makeshift emergency transport, the woman’s life was saved. But Morehead’s day wasn’t done.

 

Beyond the call of duty

Leaving the hospital, Morehead attempted to return to the Pentagon and render whatever assistance he could. By now the building was cordoned off by police, fire and other emergency responders. Traffic in the area remained gridlocked. Ambulances and other emergency vehicles were having a hard time reaching the emergency area. “We couldn’t get back to the Pentagon; they wouldn’t let us back in.

“I walked back down to an intersection right at Army-Navy Drive. That thing was one big spider web. It was all tied up. And there was a policeman there, and he wasn’t doing anything, just leaning against his car, and so I got out there and started directing traffic. And the next thing I hear is ‘Hey, Colonel Morehead,’ and here comes Chief Heygood.” Until 3:30 that afternoon, the tired, smoky, adrenalin-fueled officers directed traffic, clearing the way for emergency vehicles to reach the Pentagon and render assistance.

While at the hospital, Morehead had tried to telephone Prissy, but he could not get through. “She knew right where my office, was and they were showing on television where the plane hit. I’m sure she thought I had been killed.” Eventually, he was able to reach his son, Chad, then a junior at Clemson. Chad, an ROTC cadet like his father before him, was able to reach his mother and let her know that Eddy was safe.

“I saw so many brave guys do some unbelievable things. No hesitation. They went in to save somebody. There’s no doubt in my mind that some of the people who died that day weren’t killed in the impact but because they went in trying to save others.”

This is a sentiment echoed by Arlington County Fire Department assistant chief James Schwartz, the on-scene commander of the emergency response team. “Truly heroic acts were exhibited on the parts of both military and civilian personnel who were residents of the Pentagon, who saved far more lives in those first few minutes, than we saved at any time in that incident. … What those people in uniform and out of uniform did on that morning were truly heroic acts that should not go unrecognized.”

In fact, Eddy Morehead’s deeds were recognized by the Army, which awarded him the Soldier’s Medal. The commendation read: “FOR HEROISM: above and beyond the call of duty on 11 September 2001. … Colonel Morehead entered the damaged area at corridor 4 E-Ring and began rescue efforts. Initially he assisted survivors as they escaped from the wreckage and debris. However, even though encountering intense heat, thick toxic smoke, and at one point, an immense wall of flames that reached from the first floor through the roof, and with complete disregard for his own personal safety, he proceeded deeper into the area of impact along the E-Ring, pulling injured and wounded from the wreckage.”

 

Vivid memories

Eddy Morehead left the Pentagon in 2002 and was assigned as the senior Army advisor

to the South Carolina National Guard, a post from which he retired in 2009.

As he recalls that most traumatic day, it is obvious that Morehead’s memories are vivid. His story is rich with details, ordinary moments that belie the death and destruction to which he was a witness. Yet, he says, what’s important is not how the events of September 11, 2001, changed him, “but how it changed our country and our world. My son’s been to war twice,” he says of Chad who graduated from Clemson in 2003. An Apache attack helicopter pilot, Chad flew over 100 combat missions in Afghanistan and Iraq.

The events of September 11 “changed our children and our world,” says Morehead. “People need to understand that there are still young kids, 18, 19 years old fighting this war 15 years later.

“People tend to forget that.”

Kelly Durham, a 1980 graduate of Clemson, is the author of four historical fiction novels set during the 1930s and 1940s.

 

 

 

Two Bronze Stars 

Written by: Kelly Durham

It didn’t take long.  Less than two months after John Thomson Ford, IV collected his diploma on the stage of the Outdoor Theater on May 24, 1943, he enlisted in the Army. Ford, who earned a degree in agricultural economics, was from Abingdon, Maryland.  At Clemson, he was a cadet first lieutenant serving as the executive officer of Company I, 3^rd Battalion, 2^nd Regiment.  Ford was excellent at drill as evidenced by his selection to the Junior and then Senior Platoons.  He was a member of the Animal Husbandry Club and the Agricultural Economics Club.  Ford was also a member of the Keystone Club and the Canterbury Club.

After enlisting in Baltimore, Maryland, on July 22, Ford was assigned to the 407^th Infantry Regiment of the 102^nd Infantry Division.  The division had been organized the previous September at Camp Maxey, Texas and was filling out its ranks and training for eventual deployment overseas.

That deployment came in September 1944 when the division landed at Cherbourg, France.  After a brief period of training at Valognes, the division moved up to the border between the Netherlands and Germany.

Cold, wet weather made campaigning difficult in late fall.  Frequent cloud cover limited the effectiveness of Allied air power.  Nonetheless, the 102^nd entered combat on October 26 and on November 3 the division took responsibility for the sector between Wurn and Waurichen, a front about six miles wide and about the same distance inside Germany.  In late November, the division attacked to close with the Roer River, reaching the villages of Welz, Flossdorf, and Linnich on the west bank.  Then the Germans intervened.

On December 16, sixty miles to the south, the Germans launched their great winter offensive, which would become known as the Battle of the Bulge.  Allied commanders pulled units from north and south of the expanding bulge to form counterattack forces.  While these units were redeployed, the 102^nd’s orientation changed to the defensive, covering the sector of the front from Wurm to Barmen.  While the battle raged to the south, the 102^nd prepared for river-crossing operations once it could resume the offensive.

That resumption didn’t come until February 23, 1945, when the 102^nd attacked and established a bridgehead across the Roer.  Over the ten days that followed, the division battled to the west bank of the Rhine River at Krefeld.  During this operation, Ford was wounded for the second time.  He died from these wounds on February 26.  Ford was awarded the Purple Heart with oak leaf cluster.  In addition, his gallantry in combat earned two awards of the Bronze Star.  First Lieutenant Ford was buried in the American Military Cemetery, Margraten, Netherlands.

For more information on John Thomson Ford, IV see:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/scroll/john-thomson-ford-iv/

For additional information about Clemson University’s Scroll of Honor visit:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bombing Test    

Written by: Kelly Durham

Charles Carroll Biggerstaff of Rowesville arrived on the Clemson Agricultural College campus in the late summer of 1916, enrolling as a member of the Class of 1920.  He was assigned to Company H of the Cadet Corps and attended the Sunday School Class taught by Professor Bryan.

Halfway through his sophomore year, in January 1918, Biggerstaff left school to enlist in the Army Air Service.  His first training assignment was to the military school of aeronautics at Austin, Texas.  Following ground school training there, Biggerstaff headed to Fort Sill, Oklahoma, to attend the Army School of Fire.

In September 1919, Biggerstaff was ordered to Siberia as part of a replacement troop cohort.  President Wilson had sent an American Expeditionary Force to Siberia in the wake of the Russian Revolution.  The role of this force was to facilitate the withdrawal of friendly Czechoslovaks from the region and to protect military supplies and railroad equipment that the United States had supplied to the Russian Empire during the Great War.  When the AEF was withdrawn, Biggerstaff was sent from the frozen tundra to the tropical jungles of the Philippines.

In September 1920, Biggerstaff went to Buffalo, New York and enrolled in the Bancroft school.  In December, he reenlisted in the Air Service and was transferred to Mitchell Field, Long Island.  In May 1921, Biggerstaff was assigned to the First Observation Squadron and ordered to Langley Field, Virginia, to assist with naval bombing tests.

Airplanes had been used extensively during the Great War. Army and Navy commanders agreed that airplanes would play a more vital role in future conflicts.  What they didn’t agree on was the organization that air forces should take and which service should be in charge.  Army General Billy Mitchell advocated for a separate air force, merging the Army and Navy’s aerial assets.  Mitchell proclaimed that airplanes could sink battleships and that air forces would make ground armies and surface navies obsolete.  To test the theory, experiments were conducted off the Virginia Capes in the summer of 1921.  Navy, Marine, and Army aircraft participated in the tests, which targeted ships confiscated from Germany in the aftermath of the war.

According to a 1959 Navy report, the bombing experiments “marked another milestone in the age-old competition between the attacking weapon and passive defense – like the spear against the shield – the gun against armor, and then the aerial bomb against an armored ship.”  The tests demonstrated the vulnerability of warships to aerial attack but did little to alleviate the debate about which branch of the armed forces should control air power.  The tests came at a cost.  Aircraft were lost and damaged and at least one pilot drowned when his airplane crashed into the ocean.

And then there was Biggerstaff.  As he helped prepare an Army bomber for a mission and was moving from its tail area around to its cockpit, he was struck and killed by a spinning—and therefore nearly invisible—propeller.

A newspaper report noted that Biggerstaff “was highly esteemed by the officers for his studious habits and conscientious observance of all regulations.  He won the affection of his comrades by his unselfish consideration of others.”  Sergeant Biggerstaff was buried at the National Cemetery in Hampton, Virginia.  He was awarded the World War I Victory Medal and was survived by his mother and sister.

For more information on Charles Carroll Biggerstaff see:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/scroll/charles-carroll-biggerstaff/

For additional information about Clemson University’s Scroll of Honor visit:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First Mission     

Written by: Kelly Durham

The 379^th Bomb Group had only recently arrived at its new base of operations at Kimbolton, England.  It had flown its first combat mission to bomb the German U-boat pens at St. Nazaire, France at the end of May.  Now, the 379^th was poised for it first airstrike inside Germany.  Leading the Group’s 527^th Bomb Squadron on his first combat mission was Captain George Albert Hamrick, Jr., Clemson College Class of 1937.

Hamrick was an electrical engineering major from Lyman.  He served as a platoon leader in Company A, 1^st Battalion, 2^nd Regiment of the Cadet Brigade.  During his days on campus, two new buildings, each costing $400,000, were completed: the new Second Barracks and Long Agricultural Hall.

After receiving his degree, Hamrick took a job with the Georgia Power Company.  Three years later, as the United States embarked on a belated military mobilization, Hamrick was called to duty and commissioned a lieutenant in the Army.  He was assigned to the 2^nd Armored Division as a tank commander.  After the outbreak of war, Hamrick transferred to the Army Air Force.  His flight instruction took place in Tulsa, Oklahoma and San Antonio, Texas, where he earned his pilot’s wings in September 1942.  Hamrick’s operational combat training took place at Hendricks Field, Florida.

Hamrick then joined the unit he would eventually lead into aerial combat when he was assigned to the 379^th Bomb Group.  The group organized in November 1942 at Gowen Field, Idaho and then moved to Kearney, Nebraska.  In April 1943, the group deployed to England, flying the North Atlantic ferry route and arriving at Kimbolton.

The American 8^th Air Force was attempting to demonstrate that attacking specific strategic targets could cripple the German war industry and bring the war to a conclusion without resort to a costly amphibious invasion of Europe.  Toward this objective, Army Air Force commanders had been launching missions of increasing size on ever-deeper penetrations into German-held territory.

On June 11, 1943, as the pilots and crews of the 379th gathered for their early morning briefings, they were informed that the day’s mission would take their B-17 Flying Fortresses over Germany for the first time.  Their target would be the U-boat pens at Wilhelmshaven.

Two hundred fifty-two B-17s from multiple groups took off on the mission.  As the bombers approached the target, the formation was attacked by German fighter aircraft.  Out of the thirty-one bombers dispatched by the 379^th Group, six were lost, two of which were piloted by Clemson men.  Hamrick’s aircraft crashed near Grossheide.  The only survivor from the crew was copilot Second Lieutenant Sam Gosen who was captured by the Germans.  The other members of the crew were recovered and eventually buried at the Ardennes American Cemetery in Belgium.

According to the VIII Bomber Command’s mission report, “The raid on Wilhelmshaven demonstrates the difficulty of operating beyond range of fighter escorts as enemy fighter attacks prevent accurate bombing of the target.”  The American bomber force would continue to suffer staggering losses until the introduction late in the year of the P-51 Mustang fighter.  The Mustang had the performance and range to accompany the bombers on their long missions into Germany and would begin to slowly sweep the German Luftwaffe from the skies.

Captain George Albert Hamrick, Jr. was survived by his wife Dorothy, his parents, a sister, and two brothers.  After the war, his remains were returned to South Carolina and reinterred in Elmwood Memorial Cemetery in Columbia.

For more information on George Albert Hamrick, Jr. see:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/scroll/george-albert-hamrick-jr/

For additional information about Clemson University’s Scroll of Honor visit:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/

Photo courtesy The American Air Museum in Britain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Omaha Beach

Written by: Kelly Durham

His father, a Rock Hill businessman, enlisted in the Marines at age 40 and fought the Japanese at Guadalcanal, so it should come as no surprise that Ernest Hill Carroll, Jr. also enlisted in the service.  The younger Carroll entered the Army in December 1942.  Fittingly, he was assigned to a combat engineer outfit.

Sonny Carroll grew up in Rock Hill where his parents owned a bottling company and radio station.  In 1940, he graduated from Winthrop Training School where he was elected class president.  In the fall of 1941, with war clouds gathering, Carroll became the first of his family to go to college, enrolling at Clemson as a mechanical engineering major in the Class of 1945.  He remained at Clemson through the first semester of his sophomore year before following his father’s example and enlisting.

Sonny was ordered to Fort McClellan, Alabama for basic training and then to Fort Meade, Maryland for engineer training.  In January 1944, he shipped overseas as part of the continuing build-up of American and Allied forces in the United Kingdom.  Sonny joined

Company B, 121^st Engineer Combat Battalion.  Sonny’s battalion was attached to the 29^th Infantry Division, destined to land on Omaha Beach in D-Day’s first wave.

Sonny’s battalion prepared for the coming invasion with vigorous training.  The Army had created several amphibious training centers along the shores of coastal England and the engineer units practiced their missions alongside the infantry outfits they were designated to support.  Sonny’s battalion would support the 29^th Infantry Division’s 116^th Infantry Regiment.

Historian Stephen Ambrose wrote that “The combat engineers had the most complex job.”  Nearly one-quarter of the American troops going ashore on the morning of D-Day would be engineers. “Their tasks, more or less in order, were to: demolish beach obstacles, blow up mines on the beach, erect signs to guide incoming landing craft through cleared channels, set up panels to bring in the troops and equipment (the color of the panel told the ships offshore which supplies to send in), clear access roads from the beach, blow gaps in the antitank wall, establish supply dumps, and act as beachmasters (traffic cops).”  And by the way, the Germans would be a factor as well.

H-Hour, the time of the initial landing on Omaha Beach, was scheduled for 0630 hours, an hour after first light.  Sonny Carroll’s battalion was scheduled to arrive on the Dog White sector of the beach forty minutes later, by which time the Germans were on full alert.

Carroll’s landing was greeted with murderous mortar, artillery, and intersecting machine gun fire crisscrossing the beach.  No infantry units had preceded the engineers on their sector of the landing area.  Rough seas and shifting sands meant that some landing craft could not make it all the way onto the beach.  Heavily laden men were forced to jump over the sides of the boats, often into water that was over their heads, and struggle against the surf, the sand, and the withering enemy fire to get ashore.

Private Carroll was a mine detector.  As he stepped off the landing craft, he was plunged into cold, neck-deep water, his backpack soaking up water like a thirsty drunk.  With bullets zipping past his head, mortar shells erupting nearby, and weighed down by heavy gear, Carroll was pulled under and drowned.  Approximately fifty percent of the initial landing forces were casualties and seventy-five percent of their equipment was lost.

There were 2,200 casualties on Omaha Beach that day, but 40,000 men landed and by nightfall they clung to a tenuous beachhead they would never relinquish.  The landings were the first step in the liberation of France and sounded the death knell for Hitler’s Third Reich.

Private Ernest H. “Sonny” Carroll, Jr. was awarded the Purple Heart.  After the war, his remains were returned to Rock Hill and buried in the Laurelwood Cemetery.  In 2010, through a $1 million bequest, his parents established the Ernest Hill Carroll Jr. Endowed Scholarship Fund to provide assistance to worthy Clemson students.  It was a fitting gift to honor a selfless sacrifice.

 

Learn more about Sonny Carroll here.

For more information about Clemson University’s Scroll of Honor, click here.

The best of many excellent books on the Normandy landings is D-Day, June 6, 1944: The Climactic Battle of World War II by Stephen Ambrose, 1994.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mare Island

Written by: Kelly Durham

Wister Austin Martin, Jr. of Greenville was an engineering major who attended Clemson College for a single semester during the 1936-37 academic year. In 1938, he joined the Navy.

We know very little about Martin’s Clemson experience and his military service.  In 1944, with Allied forces on the offensive in the Pacific, Martin was assigned for duty at the Mare Island Naval Shipyard.

Mare Island was the first US Navy base established on the Pacific Ocean back in 1853.  Located 25 miles northeast of San Francisco at Vallejo, California, the shipyard rests on a peninsula separated from the mainland by the passage of the Napa River through the Mare Island Strait.  During World War II, Mare Island was the premier west coast submarine port and served as the controlling authority for shipbuilding and repair efforts in the San Francisco Bay area.

Naval vessels required frequent overhauls, particularly during sustained combat operations.  Enemy action, battle damage, hurricanes and storms, collisions, accidents and the normal wear and tear of time at sea would trigger a ship’s need for repair.  Ships in the Pacific Theater often returned to Mare Island for needed work.  In addition, rapid technological advances during the war, particularly with respect to radar and sonar systems, meant that ships often arrived at Mare Island for the installation of new antennae and related electronic equipment.

Mare Island’s workers, civilian and military, built and repaired hundreds of ships during the war.  The yard also hosted a High Frequency Direction Finding station, which tracked Japanese naval and merchant shipping.

Wister Austin Martin, Jr. drowned on May 1, 1944.  He was survived by his parents and buried at Mt. Pisgah Baptist Church in Anderson.

See Wister Austin Martin, Jr.’s information at:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/scroll/wister-austin-martin-jr/

Learn more about Clemson University’s Scroll of Honor at:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First Mission

Written by: Kelly Durham

James Francis Crawford was a member of Clemson’s Class of 1944.  By the time the fourteen remaining members of the class graduated across the stage of the Outdoor Theater that May, Crawford had already made the ultimate sacrifice.

Crawford, from Columbia, was a mechanical engineering major who attended Clemson for two years.  Following America’s entry into the war, Crawford enlisted in the Army Air Force on March 31, 1942.

After basic and advanced training, Crawford was assigned to the 785^th Bomb Squadron of the 466^th Bomb Group as an aerial gunner.  The group was formed at Alamogordo Army Air Field, New Mexico on August 1, 1943.  It moved to Kearns Army Air Field, Utah and began training on the B-24 Liberator heavy bomber.  In late November, the group returned to Alamogordo, remaining there until February 1944 when it headed east to Topeka, Kansas.  Ground elements of the group departed New York aboard the Queen Mary at the end of the month.  The air echelon flew the southern ferry route to South America, across the Atlantic to Africa, and then north to England, arriving at Attlebridge in March.  The 466^th became part of the 8^th Air Force Bomber Command.

The 466^th commenced combat operations on March 22, participating in a daylight raid on Berlin, but Crawford’s crew, under the command of pilot First Lieutenant Prosper Pinto did not fly the mission.  The first mission for the Pinto crew was a March 27 raid on airfields in German-occupied France.  The 8^th Air Force was helping prepare the way for the coming invasion of France by attacking German Luftwaffe targets to secure air superiority for the Allies.  Seven hundred bombers were dispatched to hit eleven different airfields.  Crawford’s aircraft was one of forty-nine designated to attack the aerodrome at Biarritz, on the Bay of Biscay just north of France’s border with Spain.

No part of an 8^th Air Force combat mission was without risk.  The bombers were heavily loaded with sufficient fuel to reach their often distant targets, heavy machine guns with their ammunition, a crew of ten men, and up to eight thousand pounds of bombs.  The high mission payloads meant that the big bombers needed the entire runway to make it into the air.  Any malfunction of engines or other systems during the critical takeoff roll could result in disaster.  The danger didn’t end once the bomber clawed its way into the sky.  Hundreds, and often more than a thousand, bombers from airfields all over southeastern England would assemble into mission formations in crowded airspace, frequently in less than ideal weather.  Mid-air collisions were an everyday threat, especially during a climb to altitude in thick clouds—like those over England on the morning of March 27.

After taking off and ascending into the clouds, Crawford’s aircraft wandered off course.  It is possible that it collided with another B-24 and suffered material damage.  Army Air Force investigators believed that Lieutenant Pinto was searching for a place to land when his aircraft crashed near North Green Hoe at 1020 hours.  Another B-24 crashed a mile and a half away, though a mid-air collision could not be proved by the remaining evidence.

Sergeant Crawford and the other members of the Pinto crew were killed on their first mission before they reached enemy territory.  Their B-24 was one of seven lost or damaged beyond repair that day.  Twenty airmen were killed, one wounded, and thirty-one declared missing.

James Francis Crawford was awarded the Air Medal and the Purple Heart.  He was survived by his parents and brother.  After the war, Crawford’s remains were returned to Columbia where he was buried at Elmwood Memorial Gardens.

For more information on James Francis Crawford see;

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/scroll/james-frances-crawford/

For additional information about Clemson University’s Scroll of Honor visit:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/

Crew photo courtesy The American Air Museum in Britain

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Deadliest Year

Written by: Kelly Durham

Stephen Andrew Shelley began his only year at Clemson in the late summer of 1966.  Shelley, from St. Augustine, Florida, finished that year but did not return the following summer.  Instead, in July of 1967, Shelley enlisted in the Marine Corps.

Shelley joined the Marines during the escalation of American  combat operations in Vietnam.  He arrived in Vietnam just after New Year’s in 1968 and was assigned to the 1^st Battalion of the 3^rd Marine Regiment.  The regiment, part of the 3^rd Marine Division, had been one of the first Marine units sent to Vietnam three years earlier.  By the time Shelley arrived, the 3^rd Marines were involved in Operation Osceola, an effort to destroy North Vietnamese forces in an area east and south of Quang Tri Combat Base.  Quang Tri province abutted  Vietnam’s Demilitarized Zone, the ineffective border with Communist North Vietnam.

Shelley joined his company on January 4.  During this period, the Marines in the vicinity of Quang Tri engaged in numerous skirmishes with North Vietnamese forces.  On January 10, Shelley who had been trained as a machine gunner, was part of a mission patrolling in an area five kilometers west of Quang Tri airfield.  Shelley’s unit came under enemy small arms fire and he was seriously wounded.

Shelley was evacuated from the battlefield and was eventually airlifted to Clark Air Force Base hospital in the Philippines.  He died from his wounds on February 25, 1968.  By the time of Shelley’s death, the North Vietnamese had launched the Tet Offensive which would lead to widespread carnage in Vietnam and in the United States a growing concern about the prospects of victory.

1968 was the deadliest year of the war for Americans with combat deaths reaching 16,899, including Private First Class Stephen Andrew Shelley.  Shelley was awarded the Purple Heart.  He was survived by his parents, two sisters, and two brothers.  His body was returned to St. Augustine where he was buried in the San Lorenzo Cemetery.

For more information on Stephen Andrew Shelley see:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/scroll/stephen-andrew-shelley/

For additional information about Clemson University’s Scroll of Honor visit:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Textbook Soldier

Written by: Kelly Durham

Jim Hickerson seemed predestined for a military career.  The Greensboro native attended prep school at Edwards Military Institute in Salemburg, North Carolina. He then enrolled at the all-military Clemson College as a member of the Class of 1949.

An arts and sciences major, Hickerson impressed his fellow cadets with the military bearing of a “textbook soldier.”  He was awarded the Simpson Medal as the best drilled cadet in his class.  His proficiency in drill earned him a spot on the Senior Platoon drill team and the Pershing Rifles, which he served as captain.  As a senior, he served as a cadet major and a battalion executive officer until a mid-year vacancy opened and he was promoted to regimental executive officer.  His achievements within the Cadet Regiment led to Hickerson’s selection as a Distinguished Military Student.  But Jim Hickerson’s talents were not confined to the military aspect of life on campus.  He also sang in the Glee Club and served on the YMCA Council. Hickerson was selected for inclusion in Who’s Who Among American Colleges and Universities. The esteem in which he was held by his classmates is reflected in his election to the Senior Council, which served as “the connecting link between student body and the administration.”

Hickerson graduated in June 1949 and was commissioned a second lieutenant in the Regular Army.  He attended the Basic Infantry Officer Course at Fort Benning, Georgia where he also qualified as an Army paratrooper, earning his jump wings.  After completing school, Hickerson was assigned to the 7^th Cavalry Regiment of the 1^st Cavalry Division then stationed in Japan as part of the occupation forces.

When North Korean forces invaded South Korea in June 1950, the 1^st Cavalry Division was one of the first American units sent to the peninsula.  Hickerson’s 7^th Cavalry Regiment landed at Pohang-dong, eighty miles north of Pusan, on July 22.  The 7^th was committed to combat on July 25, exactly thirty days after the North Korean invasion.

Over the next few days, the 7^th protected the main highway leading southeast from Seoul.  The regiment gradually fell back to defensive positions forming what would become the Pusan Perimeter, the United Nations toehold on the southeast corner of the Korean peninsula.

For fifty days, the 7^th held its section of the perimeter against heavy attacks from North Korean forces.  On August 9, Hickerson’s 1^st Battalion was ordered to attack enemy forces on Hill 268.  Supported by tanks and artillery, the battalion seized the hill, killing four hundred enemy soldiers. The battalion continued to push forward, seizing additional high ground until it was relieved and pulled off the line to serve as the 1^st Cavalry Division’s reserve.

In response to renewed heavy attacks by the enemy, the division withdrew to shorten its lines and occupy stronger defensive positions.  In desperate fighting near Taegu (Daegu), on September 10, Hickerson was wounded, earning the Purple Heart medal.

While he was out of action, General MacArthur, the commander of all United Nations forces in Korea, executed an amphibious landing at Incheon, on South Korea’s northwest coast.  A corresponding breakout from the Pusan Perimeter into which UN reinforcements had been flowing, lead to the encirclement of North Korean forces in the south.

By the time Hickerson returned to 1^st Battalion on October 23, the 7^th Cavalry was moving north.  UN Forces rolled through North Korea and reached its border with China in late October.  On October 25, Communist China intervened and began pushing UN troops back from its border.  The 7^th counterattacked, but on November 26, Chinese forces penetrated the regiment’s front line companies.  The sheer size of the Chinese attacks combined with bitter cold, forced UN troops to fall back. By the end of 1950, the Chinese had pushed UN forces back into South Korea.

On January 22, 1951, the 7^th Cavalry launched an attack on Chinese lines near Kyong-ni.  On Sunday, January 28, First Lieutenant Hickerson’s platoon was on the point of a battalion movement when a large enemy force suddenly opened fire from in front and on both flanks.  Hickerson, according to the citation for his Silver Star medal, “quickly deployed his machine gun and 57 mm recoilless rifle section into advantageous positions and returned fire.”  In the face of heavy enemy fire, Hickerson moved from “man to man to give encouragement and fire directions.”  After silencing the enemy to his front, Hickerson began to reposition the recoilless rifle.  “…he courageously moved among his weapons, fully exposed to the enemy, to give fire directions and advice.  While in the midst of this dauntless act, Lieutenant Hickerson was struck by hostile fire…”  Hickerson died from his wounds the following day.

The Korean War would drag on for two and a half more years, halted by an armistice in July 1953.  After all the fighting and destruction and three million deaths, the pre-war boundary between the two Koreas was restored.  More than thirty-three thousand Americans were killed in battle, including promising young leaders like James Gay Hickerson.  Jim Hickerson was awarded a second Purple Heart and the Silver Star.  He is buried in Forest Lawn Cemetery in Greensboro.

For more information on First Lieutenant James Gay Hickerson see:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/scroll/james-gay-hickerson/

For additional information about Clemson University’s Scroll of Honor visit:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Holding the Bulge

Written by: Kelly Durham

The weather was on the Germans’ side.  Time was not.  The Germans launched their great winter offensive through the rugged Ardennes region of southeast Belgium on December 16, 1944.  The attack caught the American defenders in the First Army sector off guard.  By December 21^st, the Germans had pushed a bulge into the Allied front reaching some fifty miles to the west.  The weather was overcast with low cloud cover and frequent snowstorms, perfect for grounding the overwhelming airpower of the Allies.  But the Germans were running out of time.  Every day they failed to reach their objectives along the Meuse River was another day for the Allied high command to assemble forces for a counterattack.  Among the American forces dispatched to blunt the German salient was the 84^th Infantry Division.  One of its company commanders was Olin Goode Dorn, Jr., Clemson College Class of 1942.

“Goot” Dorn was an agricultural engineering major from Sumter.  He was a member of Blue Key, the American Society of Agricultural Engineers, and chaired the floor committee of the Central Dance Association.  Dorn served as secretary-treasurer and then as vice president of Sigma Phi social fraternity and was also a member of the Sumter County Club.  As a senior, he was a first lieutenant in the Cadet Brigade.

Following graduation, Dorn reported to officers’ candidate school at Fort Benning, Georgia where he was commissioned a second lieutenant in the Infantry Reserve on September 23, 1942.  He was posted to Fort McClellan, Alabama as an instructor and was advanced to first lieutenant in May of 1943.

Dorn was assigned to the 84^th Infantry Division, known as the “Railsplitters.”  Tradition held that the division, originally composed of men from Illinois, Wisconsin and Kentucky, traced its lineage to the Illinois militia company in which young Captain Abraham Lincoln served during the Black Hawk War of 1832.  The 84^th shipped overseas in September 1944.  After a period of organization, equipping, and training in England, the division landed at Omaha Beach at the beginning of November.

The 84^th entered combat on November 18 with an attack on the German city of Geilenkirchen as part of a larger offensive to reach the Roer River.  First Lieutenant Dorn led Company L of the 3^rd Battalion of the 335^th Infantry Regiment as it pushed forward to take the village of Beeck.  Dorn was promoted to captain on December 3 as the Allies prepared an operation to cross the Roer River.  Before they could act, the Germans launched their surprise offensive.

As Allied commanders realized the scope of the German attack, they also perceived the opportunity it presented to deal the enemy a crippling defeat.  General J. Lawton Collins’s VII Corps, including the 84^th,  was pulled off the front lines to the north of the German bulge and redirected to the southeast to assemble as a counterattacking force.  VII Corps would attack the German salient’s north flank while elements of General George Patton’s Third Army would attack it from the south, to encircle and trap the German attackers.

As VII Corps neared its designated assembly area, Collins feared that his forward elements might be pulled into the American defensive battle before they could organize for their counteroffensive.  To prevent this eventuality, he moved the 84^th forward to the Belgian town of Marche.  Here two regiments, the 334^th and 335^th, took up positions to guard the assembly area from the Germans who were still fighting toward the west.  In addition, the 335^th sent forward its 3^rd Battalion, including Dorn’s Company L, to establish a screening force in the vicinity of Rochefort, a smaller town eight miles to the southwest.

On December 23, the German Panzer Lehr Division, already running low on fuel for its tanks, attempted to break through American lines and capture Marche.  Dorn’s company held the enemy at Rochefort in what devolved into house-to-house fighting.  Dorn was killed in the action, but the German tanks were unable to break through to Marche.  The German offensive ran out of gas—literally.  December 23 marked its farthest advance.  On December 24, Christmas Eve, the weather began to clear and Allied air forces began to help the men on the ground turn the battle back in the Allies’ favor.

The Battle of the Bulge, as it became known, was the biggest—and bloodiest—battle of US forces in World War II.  More than 19,000 Americans were killed, including Captain Dorn, but the Germans were denied their objectives and spent their last reserves.  Henceforth, the Allies held the initiative as they steadily pushed the Germans back to the Siegfried Line defending Germany’s western border.

Captain Olin Goode Dorn, Jr. was awarded the Bronze Star and the Purple Heart.  He was survived by his wife, Mary, and his parents.  Dorn was originally buried in the Henri Chappelle American Military Cemetery in Belgium and after the war was reinterred in the Sumter Cemetery.

For more information on Olin Goode Dorn, Jr. see:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/scroll/olin-goode-dorn-jr/

For more information about Clemson University’s Scroll of Honor visit:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/

See also A Time For Trumpets: The Untold Story of the Battle of the Bulge by Charles B. MacDonald, 1985.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Ball Turret

Of the crew positions on the B-17 Flying Fortress heavy bomber, the loneliest was the ball turret.  Set into the belly of the aircraft, the gunner in the ball was physically isolated from the rest of the crew.  While his view to the earth below was unobstructed and he could rotate a full 360 degrees, he was susceptible to the same hazards—sub-zero temperatures, enemy fighters, flak—as his crewmates plus he ran the risk of mechanical malfunctions that could trap him inside his turret.  For long hours, the gunner had to remain at his post, folded into such a cramped space that the ball turret was usually the domain of the smallest man on the crew. Once over enemy territory, the ball turret gunner had to remain on his guns to protect his aircraft—and his crewmates—against fighter attacks from below.  Albert Outz Kemp was the ball turret gunner aboard an 8^th Air Force B-17 and a member of Clemson’s Class of 1945.

Kemp was from Trenton in Edgefield County and came to Clemson in 1941 to study engineering.  He stayed on campus only his freshman year and entered the Army at Fort Jackson in March 1943.  After basic training at Jefferson Barracks, Missouri, Kemp was assigned to aerial gunnery school.  Upon completion, he was promoted to sergeant and assigned to an operational unit for further training and familiarization.  Kemp joined the B-17G crew of pilot Second Lieutenant William Wilson.  The crew flew to England on October 17, 1944 and joined the 563^rd Bomb Squadron of the 388^th Bomb Group operating out of Knettishall in Suffolk, England.

On November 6, 1944, Kemp and the rest of the crew were alerted for their first combat mission.  After takeoff, the aircraft experienced engine trouble and Wilson aborted the mission, returning to Knettishall.  Three weeks later, on November 25, the Wilson crew got its second chance at its first mission.  Three hundred eighty-eight heavy bombers were dispatched to attack the Leuna synthetic oil plant at Merseburg, Germany.  By 0730, all of the group’s bombers were in the air where they assembled into a large attack formation with bombers from other groups and turned on the briefed course toward Germany.  As they approached enemy territory, Kemp climbed through the hatch into the four-foot diameter ball where he would spend the next few—and last—hours of his life.

The target area was covered by clouds, so Pathfinder aircraft equipped with air-to-ground radar led the bomb run.  From approximately 1130 to almost noon, the bomber formation streamed over the target and let loose its bombs on the synthetic oil plant.  Anti-aircraft fire was intense and accurate with 33 bombers receiving major damage and 104 suffering minor damage.  Second Lieutenant Wilson’s plane was among those hit the hardest.  Nursing a crippled aircraft and with all of the crew members wounded, Wilson tried to keep his bomber in the air long enough to cross Allied lines.  He didn’t quite make it.  The aircraft crash landed in a forest near Arenrath, about twenty miles east of the Luxembourg border.  Three of the nine crewmen aboard survived the landing and were taken prisoner by the Germans.  The other six, including Kemp, were buried in a local cemetery.  After the war, Kemp was removed to the Luxembourg American Cemetery.

For more information on Sergeant Albert Outz Kemp see:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/scroll/albert-outz-kemp/

For additional information about Clemson University’s Scroll of Honor visit:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/

B-17G photo courtesy The American Air Museum in Britain

Planning for More Pilots

Written by: Kelly Durham

Billy James Estes of Winnsboro was a member of Clemson’s Class of 1945.   He majored in engineering and was assigned to Company L, 3^rd Battalion, 2^nd Regiment of the Cadet Brigade.  He left Clemson after his freshman year to prepare himself—and others—for the frightful challenges of World War II.

Estes must have recognized the developing importance of air power.  The Germans had employed revolutionary close air support tactics in their Blitzkrieg across France, then turned the Luftwaffe loose to bomb London and other English cities.  The Japanese had plunged America into war with their devastating aerial attack at Pearl Harbor.  These attacks accelerated the already dizzying expansion of the US Army Air Force—and somebody would need to train all of those new pilots.  Estes reckoned he might fill that role.

Unlike most of the other belligerents in the war, the United States had no separate air force.  The Navy, Marine Corps, and Army supported their own internal air arms.  In the late 1930s, the Roosevelt Administration recognized the need to increase the number of trained pilots available for military service.  In 1937, only 184 men graduated from advanced pilot training.  Faced with German and Japanese aggression in Europe and the Far East, plans were made to increase the number of graduates to 4,500 per year.  Yet the Air Corps, the Army Air Force’s predecessor, lacked the facilities to produce such high numbers of pilots.  As a result, the Air Corps contracted with civilian flying schools to train military pilots.  After France fell to Germany in the summer of 1940, the Air Corps again increased its target, this time to 7,000 pilots annually.  By the time of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, the Air Corps had engaged 45 flying schools all across the country.

In October 1943, Estes was training at the Southern Aviation school in Camden.  He was taking a “refresher course” and building up his flight hours in order to qualify as an instructor pilot.  On Wednesday, November 3, Estes, along with Bob Anderson a student at the school, were on a routine training flight when their aircraft crashed near Winnsboro’s Mount Zion Institute.  Both men suffered from multiple fractures and head injuries and were rushed to the post hospital at Fort Jackson. Anderson was reported to be improving, but Estes died from his injuries two days after the crash.

Accidents would plague the Army Air Force pilot training program throughout the war.  Nevertheless, the system Estes was working to be a part of would produce not 4,500 pilots per year or even 7,000.  During World War II, 193,000 new pilots would enter the Army Air Force, an average of more than 48,000 per year.

Estes was survived by his wife, his parents, a sister, and three brothers, one of whom was serving overseas with the Army.

For more information on Billy James Estes see:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/scroll/billy-james-estes-2/

For additional information about Clemson University’s Scroll of Honor visit:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Silver Star

Written by: Kelly Durham

For Fifth Army commander Mark Clark, the glory would be in the capture of Rome.  To get to Rome, one had to control the Liri Valley.  To control the Liri Valley, one had to seize the dominating high ground at Monte Cassino.  Through the winter of 1943-44, the Allies had been fighting their way north along the rugged Italian peninsula against both the Germans and the weather, struggling to seize this key terrain.  The 34th Infantry Division was in the thick of the battle for Monte Cassino and so was Frank Keith Fendley. 

 Fendley was a hometown boy from Clemson and a member of the interrupted Class of 1946.  He was an engineering major and was assigned to Company M-2, 3rd Battalion, 2nd Regiment of the Cadet Brigade.  At the end of their freshman year, the boys in the Class of ’46 were scattered to military posts far and wide, sucked into the massive personnel machine feeding soldiers, sailors, airmen, and Marines into the exploding ranks of the US military. 

After completing his basic and advanced training, Fendley shipped out to the Mediterranean theater, where he was assigned to Company B, 135th Infantry Regiment of the 34th Infantry Division.  The 34th was a National Guard division originally composed of troops from Minnesota, Iowa, and the Dakotas.  Federalized in February 1941, it was fighting in Italy by the time Fendley joined its ranks.   

 January 1944 found the 34th’s 135th Infantry Regiment slogging through nasty winter weather in the rugged mountains of Italy, about halfway between Salerno and Rome.  The terrain was so rocky and treacherous, particularly in snow and ice, that US troops resorted to beasts of burden to carry weapons and supplies to forward positions.  On January 20, Private Fendley was promoted to corporal.  On the final day of the month, in action near the key terrain of Monte Cassino, Fendley displayed conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action against the Germans.  His conduct in battle led to his promotion to sergeant and would later result in the award of the Silver Star. 

 The battle for Monte Cassino was vicious, with both sides suffering staggering casualties.  In one two-acre field, survivors counted ninety bodies.  During the first two weeks of February, Fendley’s 34th Infantry Division made three attempts to capture the hilltop and break through to the Liri Valley.  Each attempt failed, and each was costly.  The division’s rifle companies, the front line soldiers enduring the worst of the fighting, suffered 65% casualties.  Existing on snow melt and canned rations, the 34th’s soldiers were exhausted and weather-beaten and were pulled from the front line between February 11 through 13.  Fendley was hospitalized with a “severe wound” during the campaign. It eventually took five Allied divisions to capture Monte Cassino.  

After a period of hospitalization, Fendley returned to his unit.  The 34th landed at the Anzio beachhead on March 25 and maintained defensive positions there until the offensive of May 23.  Leading the breakout, the 34th captured Cisterna and swung northwest to capture Rome.  After a short rest, the division proceeded to liberate Livorno.  Fendley confided in a letter to his mother that he expected soon to be relieved for special training for troops preparing for the occupation of Germany.  He was not.  Staff Sergeant Fendley was killed in action on September 18, 1944.  He was twenty years old. 

 Frank Keith Fendley was survived by his parents.  In addition to the Silver Star, he was awarded the Purple Heart.  After the war, his body was returned to Clemson, where he lies buried in the Old Stone Church Cemetery. 

 For more information about Frank Keith Fendley see: 

 https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/scroll/frank-keith-fendley/ 

 For additional information about Clemson University’s Scroll of Honor, visit: 

 https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/  

 The Tiger photo courtesy of Special Collections, Cooper Library. 

See also The Day of Battle: The War in Sicily and Italy, 1943-1944, by Rick Atkinson, 2007.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mickey Mouse Radar

Written by: Kelly Durham

In November 1943, the US 8^th Air Force sent aloft Pathfinder aircraft equipped with new technology, an air-to-ground radar system to enable bombers to drop their deadly payloads through an overcast.  No longer would cloudy skies over the target area determine whether a mission would be launched.  The new apparatus was designated H2X, but it was code-named “Mickey Mouse.”  Clemson alumnus George Joseph Safy, Class of 1941, would become an expert in navigation utilizing Mickey Mouse.

Safy was a civil engineering major from Kingsport, Tennessee.  He played in the band and was a member of the campus chapter of the American Society of Civil Engineers.  Safy left Clemson after his junior year.

By 1944, Safy was a member of the 847^th Bomb Squadron of the 489^th Bomb Group.  The group trained in the United States with B-24 Liberator heavy bombers before deploying overseas in the spring of 1944. Based at Halesworth, Suffolk, just eight miles from the English Channel coast, the group began combat operations on May 30, only a week before the planned D-Day invasion.  The 489^th initially concentrated on transportation targets in France in preparation for the Normandy landings.  Once Allied ground forces were well-established in France, the 8^th Air Force’s heavy bombers resumed their focus on strategic targets such as factories, oil facilities, airfields, and railroad marshalling yards.

Safy was a lead navigator trained in the use of the Mickey Mouse system.  Flying aboard Pathfinder aircraft, Safy would help a command pilot guide an entire formation of several bomb groups, composing a full wing, to its target in Germany.  While less than precise, Mickey Mouse enabled the bombers to strike targets even when cloud cover made it impossible to see them with the naked eye—or the sophisticated Norden bombsight.

On September 9, 1944, two B-24s from the 489^th’s Pathfinders were ordered to lead a wing formation of 265 aircraft to bomb the railroad yards at Mainz, Germany.  Safy was the navigator on a Mickey Mouse equipped B-24 piloted by Captain Thomas Plese.  Also on board was the mission’s command pilot, Major William Blum.

As the formation neared the target at approximately 1055 hours at an altitude of 22,100 feet, the other aircrews kept their eyes on the Pathfinder plane.  When it released its marker flares and bombs, all the other bombers would drop theirs.

Staff Sergeant John Davis, the left waist gunner on Safy’s crew, recalled that “As we came in on the bomb run, the flak started bursting around us, and the plane rocked from the force of the explosions…Suddenly there was an explosion right on us, and our aircraft started down immediately.  It must have been a direct hit.  We were going straight down, because I could see the formation of planes that we had been leading passing overhead and I was on my back.”

The flak had cut  the airplane in two.  Davis and two others from the aft section of the plane bailed out.  Miraculously, Blum, the command pilot, and one other crew member from the front portion of the bomber also managed to escape.  All five were taken prisoner by the Germans.  Safy, Plese and three other crew members were killed when the plane crashed at Bauscheim just east of the Rhine River from Mainz.

First Lieutenant George Joseph Safy was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, the Air Medal with two oak leaf clusters, and the Purple Heart.  He was survived by his parents and was buried in the Lorraine American Military Cemetery in France.

For more information on George Joseph Safy see:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/scroll/george-joseph-safy/

For additional information about Clemson University’s Scroll of Honor visit:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Patrol Briefing

Written by: Kelly Durham

Good leaders explain the mission and their expectations to their team members.  David Nathaniel Green, Jr. was in the midst of such a briefing when his life came to a sudden end. 

 Green was a member of Clemson’s Class of 1965.  He was an engineering major from Sumter and a member of the Society for the Advancement of Management.  Like his father, who achieved the rank of major, Green went into the military service and was commissioned as an Army second lieutenant.  

 By 1967, the United States was engaged in a steadily expanding air and ground war in Vietnam. More than 380,000 soldiers were in the country and General William Westmoreland, the US commander, believed his troops were ready for major offensives that would seize the initiative for American forces. 

Second Lieutenant Green arrived in Vietnam at the beginning of May 1967.  He was assigned to A Company, 3rd Battalion, 39th Infantry Regiment of the 9th Infantry Division.  Green’s battalion was engaged in Operation Enterprise, a pacification and security mission in Long An Province.  The province was the gateway to the Mekong River Delta, the major rice-producing region of South Vietnam.  Controlling the waterways in the delta was important to sustaining the free transport of rice and other commercial goods.  Based at Rach Kien, the battalion’s mission was to destroy the enemy and deny him the “use of lines of communications.” 

 To destroy the enemy, one had to know where to find him.  In order to pinpoint Viet Cong and North Vietnamese Army troops, American forces patrolled their areas of operations.  On July 24, Second Lieutenant Green was briefing a combat patrol before it was to be sent out on its evening mission.  At 1915 hours, A Company’s area was alerted by a shot from a .45 caliber pistol.  One of the company’s soldiers had accidentally shot himself in the hand.  A medical evacuation, or “dust off,” helicopter was requested and the incident was under investigation.   

 At 1945 hours, as Green went over the patrol plan, an explosion from an unknown source ripped through the group.  Eight soldiers were wounded.  Green was killed.  Evacuation of the soldier with the wounded hand was put on hold while two dust off flights airlifted a total of six soldiers to Army medical facilities.  Two others were not wounded seriously enough for evacuation.  Green’s official cause of death was listed as a non-hostile, accidental self-destruction. 

 Second Lieutenant Green was awarded the Bronze Star Medal, National Defense Service Medal, Vietnam Service Medal, Republic of Vietnam Gallantry Cross Unit Citation with Palm, Republic of Vietnam Campaign Medal, and the Combat Infantry Badge.  He was survived by his father and two brothers.  He is buried in Sumter Cemetery and is memorialized on the Vietnam Veterans’ Memorial in Washington, DC. 

 For more information on David Nathaniel Green, Jr. see: 

 https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/scroll/david-nathaniel-green-jr/  

 For additional information about Clemson University’s Scroll of Honor visit: 

 https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

La Hay du Puits

Written by: Kelly Durham

One of the many fascinating chapters of the story of D-Day concerns the artificial harbors known as “Mulberrys.”  These ingenious devices were constructed in Britain of steel and concrete, then towed across the English Channel and anchored off the invasion beaches.  The Mulberrys were designed to handle 7,000 tons of vehicles and supplies per day, yet they were conceived as only temporary answers to supplying the ever-growing Allied forces streaming across the beaches and into France.  To sustain long-term combat operations, Allied commanders planned to capture the major ports of Caen in the British sector and Cherbourg in the American zone.  Bennett McKellar Reynolds, Clemson Class of 1944, served with the 79th Infantry Division, which entered Cherbourg on June 25, 1944. 

 Bennett Reynolds was an agricultural education major from Bennettsville, SC.  He was a member of the Presbyterian Students Association and sang with the Glee Club.  He completed his junior year at Clemson and then entered active duty in June 1943.   

 Reynolds’s basic training took place at Camp Croft in Spartanburg.  Then, he briefly returned to Clemson as a participant in the Army Specialized Training Program.  From Clemson, he was ordered to Fort Bragg, North Carolina and then to Fort Meade, Maryland.  He arrived in England on May 11, 1944, just in time for the invasion. 

 The 79th Infantry Division began landing on Utah Beach on June 12.  It entered combat a week later, attacking to the north along the Cotentin Peninsula, at the tip of which was the highly valued harbor of Cherbourg.  The division battled its way into the port city on June 25.  Once they realized they could not hold Cherbourg, the Germans did a thorough job of wrecking the harbor.  It would take the Allies weeks to make the port’s facilities usable. 

 In the meantime, the 79th turned south to push the Germans out of the peninsula. The Americans needed to enlarge the beachhead, or lodgment area, to make room for the newly arriving units, which would help launch an offensive into the tank-friendly French countryside south of Normandy.  La Hay du Puits was a commune featuring the junction of key roads.  The Germans had moved into the town in June 1940.  Now, the 79th planned to evict them. 

 On July 5, the 79th began its assault on the town.  Against stiff German resistance, the attack made slow progress.  Over the following day, the 79th’s infantry regiments slowly encircled the town, forcing the German occupiers to withdraw to avoid being cut off.  But, as was their habit, the Germans counterattacked the next day, forcing the 79th to give ground before gradually regaining the initiative.  By the end of the day, the division had suffered one thousand casualties. 

 On July 8th, the attack was resumed with the 79th pushing ahead with tanks supported by engineers and infantry.  High casualties had forced many sergeants to take over their units as junior officers were killed or evacuated due to wounds.  On July 9, the division attacked into the town, rooting German defenders out of the rubble.  Private Reynolds was wounded during the fighting and died that same day. 

 Private Bennett McKellar Reynolds was survived by his mother and his half-brother, who was also serving in the Army.  He was awarded the Purple Heart.  He is buried in McCall Cemetery in Bennettsville.

 For more information about Bennett McKellar Reynolds see; 

 https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/scroll/bennett-mckellar-reynolds/  

 For additional information on Clemson University’s Scroll of Honor visit: 

 https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

B-24 Gunner

Written by: Kelly Durham

The B-17 Flying Fortress was the more famous of the American heavy bombers attacking German-occupied Europe, but its sister ship, the B-24 Liberator, carried heavier bomb loads, flew faster, and had a greater range.  It was produced in greater numbers than any other American military aircraft.  Robert LaVerne Anderson of Lake City was a crew member on a Liberator flying from a 15^th Air Force base in Italy.

Anderson, an engineering major, attended Clemson for the 1941-42 academic year and then entered the service, volunteering for the Army Air Force.  He trained as an aerial gunner and was assigned to the 758^th Bomb Squadron of the 459^th Bomb Group which deployed to Italy in early 1944.

Anderson and his comrades went to work in an “office” bristling with guns.  The B-24 was armed with ten .50 caliber machine guns for self-defense: two in the nose, two in the top turret just aft of the flight deck, one on each side of the waist, two in the belly turret, and two more in the tail.  The gunners, all given the rank of sergeant after

the Americans learned that captured non-commissioned officers got better treatment from the Germans than lower-ranking enlisted men, worked in an atmosphere that could be described as inhospitable.  Temperatures at mission altitudes of 20,000 feet and higher plunged as low as forty degrees below zero, forcing the crew, traveling in an unheated and unpressurized aircraft, to wear electrically heated overalls beneath their heavy flying gear.  Any exposed skin was susceptible to frostbite.  Thinner air at these altitudes also required the crew to wear oxygen masks.

And then there were the Germans.  Even in tight formations in which B-24s sought to protect themselves and each other from German fighter aircraft, losses were frequent.  And though the gunners, like Anderson, could shoot back at the fighters, German anti-aircraft fire was a threat against which Anderson and the rest of the crew could offer little defense.

The job of the gunner was to protect his aircraft so that it could deliver a bomb load of up to 8,000 pounds on enemy targets like transportation hubs, airfields, aircraft factories, fuel facilities and other enemy installations deemed of value.  On June 9, 1944, Anderson and the crew of Hogan’s Hellcats, a B-24 piloted by 2^nd Lieutenant Walter Michaels, were assigned to bomb a target at Munich, Germany, about 500 miles north-northwest of their base at Giulia airfield outside of Cerignola, Italy.

For protection against enemy fighters, the B-24s routinely flew in well-ordered formations, with each aircraft in a position from which it could help defend not only itself, but the other planes in its flight as well.  On this Friday morning, Hogan’s Hellcats was flying in the number 5 position of its formation, the third airplane on the right side of a vee-formation.  Ahead about fifty yards and level with Anderson’s aircraft was another B-24.  Staff Sergeant Michael Meindl was the tail gunner in this ship.  Facing to the rear and scanning the skies for enemy fighters, Meindl had an excellent view of what happened as the formation released its bombs over Munich.

“After making a successful bomb run,” Meindl reported, “five bursts of flak exploded directly under Lieutenant Michaels’ ship.  The tip of the left wing curled up and the ship went into about a 60% bank to the left.”  Michaels brought the airplane out of its dive, but the flak had damaged the bomber and the stress on the wing caused the number 3 engine to fall off.  “The last I saw of the ship,” Meindl continued, “it was spinning earthward, into the flak barrage below us.”

Only the airplane’s navigator, 2^nd Lieutenant Leonard Brosky, escaped Hogan’s Hellcats, blown clear when the ship exploded.  The other nine crew members were killed.  They were buried near Munich.  After the war, their remains were returned to the United States where they were interred at the Zachary Taylor National Cemetery in Louisville, Kentucky.

For more information on Sergeant Robert LaVerne Anderson see:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/scroll/robert-laverne-anderson/

For additional information about Clemson University’s Scroll of Honor visit:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Corpsman

Written by: Kelly Durham

Wilbur Harmon Creighton, Jr.’s World War II experience stands out for his having participated in the two largest amphibious operations in history.  Creighton was a Navy hospital apprentice first class and he served in both Europe and the Pacific.

Creighton was an agriculture major from North Augusts.  He was at Clemson only during the 1942-43 academic year.  Then, the War and Navy Departments ordered most college-age men to active duty.

While still only 18, Creighton opted for the Navy and became a corpsman, that service’s title for a medic.  Navy corpsmen served not only aboard ships and submarines, they also were assigned to Marine Corps units fighting ashore.

According to a newspaper account, Creighton, participated in the June 6, 1944, D-Day invasion of Normandy, likely serving aboard one of the hundreds of Navy vessels in the massive fleet supporting the ground forces.  Fast forward to the spring of 1945 and Creighton was in the Pacific Theater accompanying the 1^st Marine Division as it battled on Okinawa.

Okinawa is considered by many historians to be the most brutal fighting of the war.  The Japanese defenders most often fought to the death in an attempt to make conquest of the island so costly that the United States would seek a negotiated peace rather than continue to insist on unconditional surrender.  The battle saw the heavy use of kamikaze attacks, particularly against the naval ships of the invasion fleet.  Estimates put Japanese and Okinawan deaths during the battle at more than 140,000.

From the Navy’s perspective, Okinawa was the costliest battle of World War II with more than 3,800 sailors killed, over 10% of the Navy’s total deaths during the war.  Those included sailors serving aboard ships as well as those ashore with the Marines.

Eugene Sledge, who served with the 1^st Marines on Okinawa, wrote that the Navy corpsmen “were probably more highly respected by Marines—as a group, and as individuals—than any other group of people we were involved with.” They served alongside the Marines, enduring the same miserable conditions and braving the same dangers.  The Japanese would specifically target corpsmen in order to keep wounded men from receiving the care that might eventually return them to battle.

On May 12, 1945, Creighton was killed in action as the 1^st Marine Division fought to capture “Sugar Loaf Hill” on the western side of the Japanese defensive live near Shuri.

Hospital Apprentice First Class Wilbur Harmon Creighton, Jr. was survived by his parents.  He is buried in North Augusta’s Sunset Hill Cemetery.

For more information on Wilbur Harmon Creighton, Jr. see:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/scroll/wilbur-harmon-creighton-jr/

For additional information about Clemson University’s Scroll of Honor visit:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Engine Failure

Written by: Kelly Durham

The Rhody family of Starr was one of Anderson County’s  “patriotic families doing their utmost in the war effort.” According to the local newspaper, all three of the Rhody sons were in the service and the family’s two daughters were building B-26 Marauder bombers at the Glenn Martin Aircraft factory in Baltimore. The youngest son was Clarence Rhody, a member of Clemson’s Class of 1945.

Rhody arrived on campus with the last class to enroll before the United States was pulled into World War II.  An agriculture major, he was assigned to Company F, 2^nd Battalion, 2^nd Regiment of the Cadet Corps.

In March 1943, Rhody volunteered for the Army Air Force.  He was one of four, out of a group of twenty, passing an entrance exam to qualify for the air corps. Rhody was channeled into training to become an aerial bombardier.  He attended basic training at the University of Alabama and completed subsequent advanced training assignments at Laredo, Texas; Biloxi, Mississippi; San Antonio, Texas; Nebraska; and Kansas.

After completing his training, Rhody was assigned to the 6^th Bomb Squadron of the 29^th Bomb Group.  The squadron was destined to receive the new B-29 Superfortress very heavy bomber, but these were not yet available, so initially the aircrews trained on smaller, slower, older B-17s. Once it received its new B-29s, the 6^th continued to train, because the new bomber was not simply an improved version of older designs.  According to B-29 pilot Chuck Sweeney, the Superfortress was “a technological marvel, an example of the supremacy of American science and engineering.  The B-29 was not just a collection of incremental improvements to existing aircraft design, a simple step in the evolutionary progress of any technology.  Incorporating scores of revolutionary advances, it was a quantum leap into the future.”  The new bomber featured a pressurized cabin, ten-ton payload, 300 mile per hour cruising speed at 30,000 feet, a centrally-controlled gunnery system, and “four giant, thirty-six cylinder Wright R-3550 engines.”  Those engines were among the reasons why, according to Sweeney, the B-29 “developed a reputation among some pilots as being unreliable and dangerous.”

The 6^th spent two months learning to fly the complex new bombers before deploying to North Field on the Pacific island of Guam in January 1945.  North Field was a sprawling air base with four main runways and revetments for more than two hundred B-29s.  From Guam, the Japanese islands were within the combat radius of the B-29s.

The 6^th conducted its first combat mission, an attack on Tokyo, on February 25, 1945.  Its high altitude, daytime bombing missions against strategic industries were not effective and the following month, the squadron switched to nighttime, low altitude incendiary attacks on area targets—Japanese cities.

On the night of May 13, 1945, Mothers’ Day, Second Lieutenant Rhody was the bombardier on First Lieutenant Frederick Bedford’s B-29, City of Baltimore. Their mission was an incendiary bombing raid on the city of Nagoya, a manufacturing and shipping hub in central Honshu.  About fifteen minutes after takeoff, one of the aircraft’s giant Wright engines failed.  By itself, the failure of a single engine did not constitute a major emergency, still it was sufficient to abort the mission and return to North Field. By the time City of Baltimore made it back into North Field’s traffic pattern, the weather had become “very bad and visibility very limited,” according to the aircraft’s radar officer, Second Lieutenant Dale Spencer. The bad weather and the dead engine made maneuvering the aircraft difficult.  The ship lost airspeed, drifted to the left of the runway, and crashed.  Eight of the eleven on board, including Rhody, were killed.  Spencer and two of the gunners from the aft section of the plane survived.

Second Lieutenant Clarence Henry Rhody was survived by his parents; his two brothers, both of whom were Army captains, one serving in Washington and one in England; and his two sisters working at the aircraft plant in, ironically, Baltimore.  Rhody was awarded the Purple Heart and after the war was reburied in the Silverbrook Cemetery in Anderson.

For more information on Clarence Henry Rhody see:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/scroll/clarence-henry-rhody/

For additional information about Clemson University’s Scroll of Honor visit:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/

See also War’s End: An Eyewitness Account of America’s Last Atomic Mission by Charles W. Sweeney, Avon Books, 1997.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the Navy

Written by: Kelly Durham

It is no surprise given Clemson’s long history of Army ROTC that the vast majority, nearly 80%, of the men on the University’s Scroll of Honor served in the Army and the Army Air Force.  Despite the fact that Clemson has administered an Air Force ROTC program since the late 1940s, it is the Navy rather than the Air Force which lays claim to the next largest group of Scroll of Honor heroes.  Joshua Ward Motte Simmons of Newberry is one member of the Navy contingent, which comprises six percent of the Scroll of Honor.

 

Simmons attended Clemson from 1904 to 1906 as an engineering major.  The young campus included few academic buildings. During Simmons’s time at Clemson, Agriculture Hall (now Sikes) was built, joining the Main Building (later Tillman Hall), Chemistry Building (Hardin Hall), Textile Building (Godfrey Hall) and Mechanical Hall. Enrollment was less than 600 cadets, all male, all white, and the majority from South Carolina.

Simmons left Clemson after two years and eventually made his way to Charleston.  When the United States entered World War I, Simmons joined the Navy.  Ensign Simmons served on two vessels, the USS Osceola and the USS Teal.

Osceola was a seagoing tug that steamed to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba and remained there as a station ship.  Teal was a minesweeper.  Launched in May 1918, Teal patrolled off the shores of New Jersey, Delaware, and Pennsylvania.  It is likely that Simmons’s service on Teal, operating in and out of northern ports, put him in contact with soldiers returning from the war.  In addition to their gear, many of these soldiers carried the influenza virus that in 1918 swept across much of the United States and the world and was known as the Spanish Flu.

The flu was particularly deadly among young adults whose lungs it would damage and who would then often develop pneumonia.  That may well be what happened to Simmons.  He was admitted to the Portsmouth Naval Hospital in Virginia where he succumbed to pneumonia on March 14, 1919, at the age of 32.

Ensign Joshua Ward Motte Simmons was buried at Rosemont Cemetery in Newberry.  He was survived by his mother.  He was posthumously awarded the World War I Victory Medal.

 

For more information on Joshua Ward Motte Simmons see:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/scroll/joshua-ward-motte-simmons/

For additional information about Clemson University’s Scroll of Honor visit:

https://soh.alumni.clemson.edu/