Memories of Salerno
Preparation For D-Day
S-Sgt Stegall (top row 2nd from right) in England,1942 prior to leaving for Oran, North Africa.
L-4 flying over North Africa 1943. It was here that James Stegall earned his wings.
Oran, Morocco, North Africa - December 1942
I guess you might say my combat experiences started on the docks of Oran. Our company assembled trucks - mostly 2 1/2 ton trucks. They would come in crates and then the work began. I hated my job supervising local Frenchmen putting wheels on the axels of the trucks. One day a tank company was unloading their tanks and equipment. We tried to strike up a conversation with them but since we were a non combat outfit they looked at us in disdain and wouldn't talk to us. There I decided I must get into combat some way.
One day, one of our semi-trailer truck drivers delivered a crate containing a small aircraft to a unit in Sidi Bel Abbes - about sixty miles from Oran. Sidi Bel Abbes is also the home of the French Foreign Legion. The drivers name was "Lucky" Hamilton from Tulsa, Oklahoma but he was one of our bunch from Texas. They told him they were starting a school to train Liaison Pilots and needed students. They gave him some applications which "Lucky" brought back to the Texas bunch. "Lucky" wasn't interested but the rest of us were. I filled mine out - somehow got a physical and somehow got it to the school. Several of us did that. Orders came in for me and another guy from our group named Matocha. Elated by this turn of events we bid adieu to our unit, hitched a ride and reported in to 5th Army Air OP School. Our bunks were mattress on the floor along the wall of the hangar where some of the aircraft were kept. These were the most exhilarating days of my military career. They were teaching us to fly and we lived in the hanger. Heaven!
I did well but had trouble with landings. I sat under a tree and watched others land. Suddenly, I got it. They were breaking their glide about ten feet off the ground. No problem after that. I soloed there at Sidi Bel Abbes with about seven and a half flying hours. On my first solo flight as soon as I was in the air I gave out a big war whoop. Then I realized I was up there by myself and maybe I should think about getting down. No problem. All went well.
Then the whole school moved to Mascara. We continued our training and orders were pasted on the bulletin board that Dick Schenck and Brown Speer from our old outfit would be in the next class. They were ecstatic and Matocha and I were too. Then the bad news! The school was shutting down. Half of the trainees would return to their units - half would stay for the remainder of training. My instructor Lt. Robertson had four students. Three lieutenants and one staff sergeant - me. I was flying pretty well, but anyway, somehow he kept me and a lieutenant named Fleming (later killed in Italy). Matocha had to return to our old unit much to his chagrin.
In our training, Colonel Salmon, our CO, ordered everyone (including cooks) to report at 04:00 for physical training. Every day we would line up four abreast, run five minutes then walk five minutes, thirty minutes out, thirty minutes back - every day. Consequently, we were in good physical condition. Some British Paratroopers were attached to us for rations so one day a half dozen or so of them joined our daily run. Coming back in as we were in the walk part of the run, the paratroopers jogged around us and took the lead. One of our lieutenants at the front said "Lets go." About four or five of us followed him and we overtook the British and continued running all the way back leaving them in our dust.
The 36th Infantry Division (my old unit) landed in North Africa and some of the fliers made the visit to our school. Capt. McMurray was the division aviation officer. I sidled up to him and asked if they had any vacancies. He said yes and agreed to ask for me by name.
As we neared the end of our tactical training we realized that no Liaison Pilot wings were available - of course we wanted to wear our wings when we graduated. Good old American ingenuity. We borrowed a pair of wings for a pattern, gathered up all the dimes we could find and took all this to a local jeweller in Mascara. He made a mold, melted down the coins and made some nice looking wings - pure silver. Unfortunately the wings were lost. At least we had wings for our graduation March 1943.
I received orders assigning me to the 155th F.A. Bn, 36th Infantry Division. The 36th was also short one plane so the school, soon to be closed, assigned an L-4 to me, gave me a map and told me the 36th was about sixty miles south in the edge of the desert. Somehow I managed to find them and delivered the L-4 and myself to the 36th Division. At last - combat was very possibly in my future.
You talk about proud! I had my own plane - used and abused at the school but sheer beauty to me. I slept under the wing to be near my plane. I know it made both of us very happy.
Time to move. The division was moving to an area near Rabat which is about 35 miles or so miles north of Casablanca and is the capital of Morocco. The aviation section was assigned the duty to patrol the Spanish - Moroccan border. Spain remained neutral but things can change. So, we flew to the border each morning, patrolled during the day and returned in the afternoon. On the way up and back we practiced what we call contour flying - the closer to the ground the better and whoever had the most weeds on his landing gear was considered the best for that day. This maneuver is a part of our "evasive maneuvers" to escape enemy aircraft. We were all a little over zealous. Hot shots all - we're lucky we survived.
The division was bivouacked in a wooded area called the Cork Forest near Rabat. The Germans aired radio propaganda to our troops. They would play American music and talk (perfect English, of course) to us hoping to make us homesick and possibly rebellious. One night a smooth talking woman - I think we called her "Axis Sally" - came on the air and said "what are you guys in the 36th Division doing in the Cork Forest? We know where you are and what you're doing." We all got a good laugh out of this - proud to be mentioned.
Next the division was ordered to Arzew which was a staging area near Oran. The whole division was there to prepare our equipment for an assault by sea and then to load on ships.I was assigned a 2 1/2 ton truck which would carry my L-4 onto the beach - wherever that might be. So, as the driver, I was to prepare the truck for underwater operation. Loud speakers blared out instructions by the numbers. We had a heavy grease mixed with asbestos which we put on spark plugs, wires, carburetors, ect. You can bet that I followed instructions. Wings were removed and lashed on the sides, the fuselage was rolled backward into the bed of the truck with the tail over the cab and was lashed down.
Ready to go!
James L. Stegall - August 2000
L-4 packed up on 2 1/2 ton truck for amphibious invasion of Italy at Salerno. Long hours of preparation were need to prepare the aircraft for its sea journey.
D-Day at Salerno
August 1943
After preparing for an amphibious landing, the 36th Infantry Division loaded on ships in the Arzew and Oran area of North Africa. My 2.5 ton truck carrying my L-4 observation plane was loaded on an AKA ship. This was a freighter and troop ship combined. I'm not sure what the AKA meant but the US Navy which manned this ship called it an assault kargo (cargo). The Navy seems to like those K's. My truck and plane were lowered by crane down to the third or fourth level well below the waterline. I was assigned a bunk near the galley which was quite comfortable. A convoy of ships was formed of twenty or more ships with a destroyer or two or more and smaller mine sweepers and anti submarine ships protecting the convoy.
The convoy sailed around in the Mediterranean for about two weeks. It was uneventful until about a week and a half had passed. The loud speaker on the ship announced that Italy had capitulated. This was met with mixed emotions by the troops on board. We were glad for the seeming victory but we grumbled about being deprived of the expected combat experience. Little did we know!
A day or so later the combat operation was revealed to us. We were to make an assault at Salerno, Italy. It was to be made primarily by the 36th Division with supporting units on September 9, l943. The night before the landing everyone was making preparations for the landing. One of the Navy enlisted men told me "I'm glad it's you going ashore and not me. We'll be comfortable on the ship and in our bunks while you guys will be digging in the dirt!". This is not an exact quote but is basically what he said. My only retort was something like "Well, I never did want to drown on a tub like this". Again, not an exact quote but close.
Dawn came on D-Day. The infantry had landed before dawn and had met stiff resistance. The Germans were waiting for us and the battle was on. So much for our worries of not seeing any combat. Ships were lined up away from the harbor. LST's' were being loaded and sent ashore. It was a busy scene. Troops, trucks, tanks and all manner of equipment were along the shore with smaller boats coming and going. A destroyer was out in the bay firing salvos into the mainland. On our ship LST's were coming alongside and the cranes would let down tanks, trucks, half tracks etc. Into the small landing craft. Troops went over the side on a rope net and into the LST's. All the while there was tremendous activity out in the harbor, on land, and fighter aircraft in the air.
My turn came about mid afternoon. The LST alongside was first loaded with tanks, half tracks and trucks. My truck was loaded near the front with a half track in front of me right in the mouth facing the ramp. He would be first off. I would be second. All loaded we headed for the shore. By this time it was a bee hive of activity. The infantry had moved on inland and beaches was secure for reinforcements and supplies. However, one of the beaches, maybe Red Beach, was never secured. As we neared the beach the LST ran up on the sand in about five feet of water. The ramp went down and off went the half track in front of me. I saw that he dropped off quite sharply but being a track vehicle it was no problem. As I came to the end of the ramp my front wheels dropped off into about five feet of water. I continued down the ramp but as the back wheels dropped off the ramp, the rear bumpers hung up on the end of the ramp. Being in front wheel drive the front wheels were spinning and digging into the sand. By then water was about waist high as I sat in the cab. I shut off the engine as the truck was only digging deeper in the sand. I jumped out into the water, waded ashore and hailed a caterpillar tractor manned by a G.I., probably from an Engineer Unit. He gave me a cable and I waded back to my truck and hooked the cable on my front bumper. All the while the tanks, half tracks and other vehicles seemingly waited patiently until I was dragged ashore. They then streamed out of the craft going around me on the beach.
I suppose I thanked the caterpillar driver or at least waved at him. I am not sure which. At any rate I owe him a lot. Safely on the beach, I turned on the key and the engine started! Evidently I had done a good job of waterproofing my vehicle. I joined my unit just off the beach where we spent the night. It was like the "fourth of July" but it lasted all night. Destroyers firing from the harbor, tracers in the air, sound of automatic gunfire, artillery outgoing and incoming, planes overhead. But for us we were just waiting until daylight to off load our planes and re assemble them. This was completed by about eleven O'clock on D+1. I took to the air not really knowing what to expect. I found out pretty quick! Flying at about 500 feet I was passing over a wooded area. I was hearing a faint noise like cheap firecrackers and little winks of light were coming through the trees. I radioed my fire direction center and told them "I believe they're firing at me!" I was such a rookie. Fire direction radioed back "lets put some fire on this area. Give us coordinates". I adjusted fire on the wooded area and 'fired for effect' meaning several batteries firing at once. We pounded the area pretty well and then I went on to seek enemy targets. Later that day the fire direction center called me and told me the infantry had moved through that area and found many German dead along with some trucks and equipment destroyed. My first combat action was more luck than skill. As they say, I'll take that any day!
James R. Stegall - August 2000
36th Division hits the beach at Salerno September 9, 1943.
Salerno and Beyond
For the Next Five Days After Landing at Salerno
For the next five days or so our unit pushed forward with heavy resistance in most areas. I adjusted fire on various targets like troop formations, like tanks vehicles or anything that we could find. On about the fifth or sixth day in the late afternoon, we were using an open field as our landing strip that was right next to my unit, the155th Field Artillery Battalion. Other aviation units were also using the field that day. The Germans had counter attacked through our infantry and tanks were attacking our artillery positions. Howitzers were lowered for direct fire on the tanks which were rattling around our position and were successful in holding off the German attack. By this time darkness had fallen. Orders came from our battalion to withdraw back toward the beach. There was no way we could fly out at night so my battalion commander told me to "burn my plane", load up and go with them. This was not at all to my liking and visions came to me what it would be like without my precious plane, my ally, my friend. So, I told the battalion commander that with his permission I would like to remain with my plane and "take my chances during the night" and hopefully "fly out as soon as it was daylight". He gave permission and wished me luck and left me to watch the convoy noisly leave the area.
Things seemed bad but they could have been worse. I was not left alone. Another pilot with his plane was in the same predicament on the same field. He also had chosen to stay with his plane. He was Staff Sgt. Jack Martin from the 131st Field Artillery Battalion, also from the 36th Division. Together we formed a plan. We pushed the planes close together, then tied incendiary grenades to the stick of each plane. We ran 2 telephone wires to a foxhole on the perimeter of the field. We then went back to the planes and attached the telephone wire to the loop of the grenades. If the Germans came we would pull the wire which would set off the grenades and would burn the planes. Our foxhole was near "a draw" or creek bed which drained back toward the beach. It had trees and brush on each side but was pretty clear in the middle. This would be our escape route. This done we settled in for the "long wait til dawn". We could hear the rattle of the tanks on the other side of a little hill as German 88's screamed overhead on their way toward the beach. The German 88 is a high velocity cannon or rifle (?) with a low trajectory so we felt fairly safe from them as we were on the other side of the hill. As we waited we talked of things like home, girlfriends and good things to eat, my thoughts were on a blue eyed beauty from Austin, Texas. Those blue eyes haunted me as I didn't know if I would ever see them again. Her name was Dorris Parker and her nickname was "Hitto". I vowed that night that I would marry her if she would have me if I made it out alive. Another topic we discussed was John L. Lewis, AFL & CIO Union leader. He had his union striking on assembly lines and factory lines and ship yards deterring our defense efforts. No kind words for them as we huddled in our foxhole. We waited and finally dozed off. About three o'clock that morning Jack Marin awoke shook and said "our infantry is coming up" and our hearts lifted. We could hear voiced and commands. We stayed in our foxhole and shouted out to the infantry men near us. A Sgt. made his way over to us and said to us "What the hell are you guys doing up here?" We explained as best we could and he just shook his head. The unit then moved on through our position to counter attack the German position over the hill.
At first light, we left our foxhole and started walking toward our planes barely visible in the semi darkness. As we approached the planes, our hearts sank. Jack's plane had a flat tire and the infantry had dug fox holes in our field. Since we were so close to the enemy we didn't relish the idea of flying out and then flying back in but that was what we would have to do. The two of us got into my plane and flew back to a rear area landing strip. The crew there took a wheel off of one of the other planes. We took it and flew back to our little strip, avoiding the foxholes. As we worked to put the wheel on we felt like the whole German Army was trained on us out in the middle of that field. Work completed we flew back to the beach to rejoin our units for another day. A day we weren't sure we would see.
James R. Stegall - August 2000
A Long Days Work
Wreckage of German armored column 4 miles inland from the 5th Army beachhead and five miles south of Salerno. It was enroute to the beach when it was spotted by an L-4 and subsequently destroyed by Allied artillery fire.
Destroyed German Panzer Mark IV near Salerno beachhead.
Copyright © 2000-2003 Ravnhaus Press. All rights reserved.
More of James R. Stegall's Memoirs
Grasshopper Pilot Home
S-Sgt. Stegall's L-4 vs Messershmitt 109
Other Links
Texas Military Forces Museum - The History of the 36th Division in World War 2
Hyper War - 36th Division History
BurtonD's 36th Division History Page