Problems with posting comments!!

Some of you  have emailed me saying that you are unable to post comments. I have heard from those who can, and tried it myself. I think you must have a google account (gmail) or one of the others on the list at the "Select profile" down arrow, Those are:  Live Journal, word press, type pad, or AIM. I tried to insert my yahoo email account id into the last category "open id" but it would not post.  Corporate monopoly on  blogspot comment?

So if you want to comment, use your gmail account or email me at mcdorf@gmail.com. We love to hear from you!

Chapter 2 Over the Bounding Waves: October 5 to November 1, 1944

Above is a photo of the appreciation page from the 409^th Infantry journal with a hand written dedication to Charles Meagher.

In relating the story of the 409^th Infantry in World War II, I have chosen to use the chapter headings from the journal that was published after the war and given to all the soldiers who had served in that regiment. (See Posting #1) Therefore, Chapter 1 was called “The Cactus is Born” as written in my copy of Charles Meagher’s journal. [The family name “Meagher” by the way is pronounced “Mar” as in “MARvelous”.]  I will continue to use the chapter names from the journal as they give a flavor of the times that I feel is very authentic. In some cases the expressions are not common today. I hope that you readers will also find that they bring you a taste of the ’40’s. 

The journal itself is 167 pages long. I have read it very thoroughly and taken 20 pages of notes. (See, former students of mine? Note-taking is a useful life skill!)  While the blog account is summarized by me in my own words, I will also quote from the journal because I find the original words of those who were actually there convey the drama of the story better than I ever could. 

After each chapter, I will add a “b” version: for example after telling about the 409 going “Over the Bounding Waves”, you will find Chapter 2b “WAY over the Bounding waves” which will be the Jeanne and Madonna story of following the route of the 409.

In the beginning of October, 1944, after a year and half of training and maneuvers, the 409^th Infantry reached its full strength and its orders to move out. The Allies had invaded the Normandy coast of France on D-Day, June 6 - called “Jour-J” in French. The Allies had also landed on the southern coast of France on Aug.15, and fought their way north through the Rhone Valley. Paris had also been liberated in mid-August that year, and fierce fighting was pushing the German army back into Belgium and Northeastern France. French resistance groups and French citizens were liberating towns and cities all over France. Those pockets of German resistance that remained either surrendered or tried to make their way back to their lines in the north.

On Oct. 5, 1944. The 409 was ordered to move “quickly and quietly” from Camp Shanks, New York to a railroad yard where trains were waiting. “This was not a dry run....No time was lost. No practice alerts were necessary.”  After an hour-long train ride, they were ferried across the Hudson River to the wharf. As the “Cactusmen” embarked onto the USS Monticello, a Service Command band played and Red Cross women handed out coffee and doughnuts. The following morning, the ship left port.

Although the ship had been a luxury liner, the “men also shortly learned that whatever luxuries the liner had boasted were obviously things of the past. Conditions ...were far from enjoyable.” Among the discomforts were lack of space, the “erratic operation of the ventilation system”, and “the expected siege of seasickness”.   (p. 18)

“Life above decks was as good as life below decks was bad”. Men were able to get out of the hold twice a day to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine. Entertainments included games of poker and craps, music, reading and, of course, speculation about where the Monticello and the 409 were heading. Some details of these activities taken from the journal include the following:

“The ‘jive’  addicts gathered around the stand when the Navy orchestra started playing ‘lowdown’ music. Daily music sessions were aided and abetted by appearances of the Regiment’s own master of ceremonies...and other entertainers ...(who) defied the poor acoustics in that great open air theater known as the Atlantic Ocean to sing such popular ballads as “Old Black Joe” and “Old Man River”.  (p. 20)

“The well-read aboard ship were reading The Bayous of Louisiana, The Robe, Good Night,Sweet Prince and anything by Thorne Smith.  (p. 20)

As for the speculation about their eventual destination, “after a week at sea the consensus of opinion was that the convoy was bound for the recently liberated port of Marseille.....When the convoy steamed past the Rock of Gibraltar into the Strait there was little doubt that Marseille was the port.”  (p. 21)

“About mid-day of October 20 the Monticello nosed into the dock at Marseille...Although the war had long since moved on to the northeast, Marseille was still a port of desolation and destruction. Despite 6 weeks of work by Army engineers, there were still sunken, burned-out ships in many of the docks......During disembarkation an air raid alarm was sounded and a heavy protective smoke screen covered the area. If enemy planes were over them, the Cactusmen didn’t see any bombs come down.”  (p. 21)

Now for one of those army stories that are only amusing in retrospect. The Cactusmen headed off on what was supposed to be a 2 1/2 mile march to a bivouac area, heavily burdened of course with packs, gas masks, horseshoe rolls and overcoats. “That two-and-one-half-mile report will undoubtedly live in the minds of the men of the 409^th as one of the great understatements of World War II.”  After merging with other troops, slow downs, and an accident where a truck swerved into the column injuring 3 men, the column was still marching 8 hours later. Whenever anyone asked how much farther to the bivouac area, the answer came that it was “just two-and-one-half miles”.  “Eventually the men of the 409^th began to think that there was a bivouac area just two-and-a-half miles from whatever point you happened to be around metropolitan Marseille.”

After 8 hours, the men bedded down where they were on a rocky field. During the night they had to use their blankets as cover during a rain storm. “Daylight revealed that the column had halted in the darkness not more than five hundred yards from its goal. A survey of the so-called ‘bivouac area’ convinced the men that it really made no difference however. It was simply a choice of rock piles.” (p.21-22)

“Life was rugged in Marseille, or so the doughboys thought. It was rather rough sleeping in a tent with only four blankets, a jacket and a raincoat to keep our the chilly October winds. How did those guys at the front manage with only one blanket? Little did the Cactusmen know that many times during the winter they would spend the night in a foxhole with no blanket whatsoever.”  (p.23)

During their stay in Marseille the soldiers of the 409^th worked alongside of U.S. Navy personnel at the wharves, unloading supplies to be delivered to the front.  But their trips into the city were not all for work. “They will remember the wine, the cognac, the girls, the Red Cross club, the theaters, the sidewalk cafés, the wide streets in the heart of the city, the narrow streets of the outskirts, the churches, the blue street cars, the colorful uniforms of the soldiers of many nations.”   (p. 24)

More Paris

Beautiful architecture.....

An aqueduct in the suburb of Arcueil. Quelle surprise!

Built so that Marie de Medicis could power her fountains.

And the glass and ironwork beauty of the Auteuil Greenhouse in western Paris.

The bounty of neighborhood markets in every neighborhood, 2 - 7 days a week, all year round. Unbelievably fresh, beautiful food.

Seafood so fresh it smelled like the ocean.

North African pastries with nuts and honey.

Cheeses from all regions of France.

A collection of coffee bowls.  Vendor not so pleased with my effrontery in photographing her wares.

And finally, for those sudden hunger pangs in the subway, the vending machine with Bueno Bars. This photo is for all those student travelers who only survived my death marches through Paris because of these.

À bientôt!

Chapter 1 The Cactus is born

Above is the dedication page to the 253 men of the 409th Infantry Regiment who died in action in the European Theater of Operations.

The first chapter of the journal tells about the formation of the regiment and the basic training that came after for the 13,000 men assigned to it when the regiment achieved full strength. They began their  basic training at Camp Claiborne, Louisiana. Subsequent training involved construction of a mock village to train for infiltration and close combat. Throughout the summer they trained on maneuvers in combination with other units.  Post maneuver training began in November of 1943 and continued until the regiment moved out of camp in October, 1944 to head to the port of New York for their voyage overseas.

If anyone is interested in the very detailed account of those maneuvers and training events, let me know and I will happily send you a copy from the journal. It is very specific and complicated and I can't tell you that I really would be competent to summarize it all.


Chapter 1b  A Road trip is born


While I'm certainly not saying that 4 days in Paris is in any way equivalent to 21 months of basic training, there are similarities. Madonna and I have pounded ourselves into shape for what's to come by logging 5 - 8 miles a day on the trusty pedometer and by climbing stairs in Métro stations, hotels, railways stations with pounds of luggage in tow. To improve our mental acuteness, we have racked our brains trying to get online in hotels (the "Wee-Fee" is not always easy to access) not to mention printing out tickets at RR stations where subtle word differences throw us off track. We've even had some munitions experiences at a local store while shopping for Opinel knives, and finding instead that they really made their money selling guns, ammo, and something that looked like grenades. Did they know we were out of place?  To cap it all off, we got to watch the bomb squad (ok - heard them) explode a suspicious package at the Barbès Métro station. (Yes, it's true Blondeel family - on the way home from dinner chez vous).  Luckily the package was not a bomb, just some forgetful person's package. Interesting to see that Parisians are as blasé as New Yorkers, looking at their watches as if to say"Hurry up and sweep up the mess. I gotta get home."

In case you think Paris was all suffering (hardly that!), we managed to enjoy ourselves thoroughly. We allowed ourselves a full day to recuperate from the rather grueling Alitalia flight - just walking around our hotel neighborhood with the beautiful Canal St. Martin, and naps. We ate North African food - the best cous-cous I've EVER had. Beautifully seasoned. Then walking back to the hotel we ran into this:

Porte St. Denis  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Porte_Saint-Denis

Same in daylight

We visited the Arts et Métiers Museum (of technology & craftsmanship through the ages) http://www.arts-et-metiers.net/ where were dazzled by beautiful old instruments and tools. Note the slide rule below which is about 21/2 ft long. Must have needed quite the pocket protector! Not to mention the pocket. Ok - no one under 50 gets that.

They also had a special exhibit on the Métro system. We quickly tired of the lo-o-ong discussion of electrical systems and wen to play with the kid-friendly exhibits. We designed the following subway car-of-the-future.

And here is a model of a familiar and beloved lady:

In French she is called "Liberté éclairant le Monde" (Liberty lighting the world). She was designed by the French sculptor Frédéric Bartholdi http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frédéric_Auguste_Bartholdi and her inner structure in New York City was engineered by Gustave Eiffel. A complete statue of her is on the place outside the museum.

There are two copies of Lady Liberty in Paris as well as a life-sized copy of the flame at Pont d'Alma, near where Princess Di was killed. It was used as a memorial place when Diana was killed.

I just love all these reminders of our shared franco-american history, and mixing of our cultures and languages - in both directions.

Forward, part 2 - The Alsace connection

In addition to being inspired to make this journey by Madonna's father's WW2 experience, I (Jeanne) also have a connection to Alsace. In 1964, I studied in Strasbourg, in northeastern France with the Washington University junior-year-abroad program. At that time, living in Europe for a year meant no phone calls home at all.  (OK - maybe once. An important  call about  money I'm thinking). The French phone system was very creaky, and international calling was difficult and expensive. Communication consisted of letters - lots of them. All written on thin air mail paper (postage was expensive) with my new fountain pen. I wrote everything with that pen. Volumes of classnotes, travel notes, and letters home once or twice a week.


Our group of students sailed from New York to Rotterdam and then traveled by train to Paris, before winding up in Strasbourg, Alsace. Here is a photo of me relaxing glamorously on the deck of the S.S.Maasdam before departing from a west side pier (#42 I believe).

 During that year, I and a roommate rented a room in the home of an Alsatian couple, Monsieur and Madame Pauli. Their home was actually in a suburb of the city - so I bought a motorbike called a Vélosolex to travel to classes, around town, and to make the occasional excursion out into the countryside. Always wearing a skirt and city shoes, of course! Sometimes with heels. This was 1964.

Here I am on my "Solex" at in the driveway where I lived at 14, rue des Fruits.

Embarassing moment: I was sitting (on my bike) at a big intersection in the middle lane, waiting for the traffic light. The light changed and I took off - leaving one of my shoes behind! I had to negotiate the traffic, turn around and return for my shoe. That caused some hilarity in the vicinity as I recall.


There were eight of us in the Washington U. group studying in Strasbourg. 7 of us are pictured below, along with a guest, having a halloween party. Someone went to a bakery with a drawing of a jack-o'-lantern and custom-ordered a cake. The face on the cake was a bit odd-looking because the person making the cake really had no idea what it was supposed to be. Nowadays people in France do sometimes celebrate Halloween.

That's me in the center front and my roommate Carol is holding the cake. Carol and I roomed in a second floor bedroom chez Monsieur & Madame Pauli. They were an older couple, who lived a simple, traditional lifestyle. Monsieur was a retired shipbuilder (Strasbourg is an important Rhine River port). They had a garden and chickens. What they did not produce themselves, they bought from neighborhood shops owned by people they seemed to have known since childhood. They also produced their own eau-de-vie, made from plums.  When I was lucky enough to be invited to lunch, we always finished the meal with a small glass of that home-made hooch. Powerful stuff indeed!  Drying the dishes after required my full concentration.


 Madame rode a bicycle to do errands. The car was almost never used, except for longer excursions. Once I was included on a wine-buying errand to a vinyard out in the countryside, and another time to a picnic with a neighboring family. 

Our room had two beds, two tables to work on , and armoire for clothes, and a coal stove for heat (maintained by Madame). We also had our own bathroom - with tub, sink, toilet and wood-fired hot water heater! The fire was lit once a week on Saturday - I learned to wash myself and my hair in cold water. In our room above,  notice the eiderdowns on the beds, all with hand-worked linens made by Madame for her dowry, no doubt. Below, is the view toward the garden and the river Ill off in the distance.

During that year, I remember vaguely knowing that they had had a son, that he'd been a med student at the university,and that he had died during the war. Late in my stay there, Madame was showing me photos of herself, traveling as a young woman in Italy. She was very nostalgic about the good times she'd had, and I asked her if she didn't want travel again. "Oh, yes," she answered, "but my husband won't leave home. He always says 'What if Fritz comes home?'"


Fritz, of course, had been drafted into the German army in 1940 as soon as France fell. Alsace and the neighboring province of Moselle were considered by them to be part of Germany, provinces that Germany had lost after WW1. So those regions were "germanized". The schools had to stop teaching in French, and the men were drafted into the German army. Most were sent to the brutal battles of the eastern front with Russia. Their families at home were the guarantee that they would fight those battles and not desert.


All over France, there are memorials to those lost in the many European wars. All of them have the words "Morts pour la France" (Died for France) at the top - except in Alsace. There, the memorial monuments say "À nos morts" (To our Dead) because Alsatians died on both sides of the conflict.


There is a very moving monument in Strasbourg - a Pietà of a mother holding her two dying sons, one looking east, and one looking west.

Forward, part 1 - Inspiration for the Journey

My friend Madonna’s father, Charles Meagher, participated in the liberation of France, Germany, and Austria from Nov. 1 through the end of the war in 1944-45. Charles died in 1957, when M was just 2 years old. She has some cherished items from the time of his military service including the official log of his infantry published by the Washington Infantry Journal Press in 1947. 

He served in the 409th Infantry Regiment, 103rd Infantry Division - also called the Cactus Division.

Their motto: "Steadfast"