Remembering the service of the 296th, and all WWII veterans

Nearly 74 years ago in Mississippi, several hundred young men, mostly from New England and many only 18, 19 or 20 years old, who until a week before had been civilians, clamored out of old dirty railroad cars in which they had been riding on a circuitous two-day route from Fort Devens, Mass.

They were lined up, greeted by army sergeants and officers, packed into trucks and taken to Camp Shelby. There they were told that they were now members of a new army unit, the 296th Engineer Combat Battalion.

Their commanding officer was Jack Jeffrey, then a captain, but soon promoted to lieutenant colonel. Jeffrey, the only commander the 296th ever had, was a tall, lean Texas A&M graduate, who with his other officers and a cadre of non-commissioned officers, had the responsibility of turning these teenagers and young males into a cohesive military unit able to perform army engineering duties under combat conditions.

For the next several months, this transformation, from a crowd of civilians (all with varying backgrounds) into a disciplined army unit, took place.

The men were marched and drilled. They learned close-order drill. They went on forced marches in hot, humid Mississippi weather where the temperature frequently went over the 100-degree mark. As the 296th was an engineer combat unit, the men learned to handle explosives, land mines and booby traps. They bivouacked in the snake- and insect-infested forests around Camp Shelby and put pontoon bridges together. Basic infantry training became part of their routine, and they fired rifles and machine guns and went through bayonet drill.

Six months after their arrival, the young men of this new battalion were once again loaded onto trains that carried them to a port of embarkation. With other units, they were packed onto an old passenger steamer that had been converted over to troop transport duty and sailed out of Boston.

Ten days later, on Oct. 18, 1943, they landed in Liverpool, England, where the unit became part of “Operation Bolero,” the U.S. Army’s master plan to build facilities for the massive buildup of troops and supplies arriving in the United Kingdom in preparation for the coming Normandy invasion. Early in 1944, the battalion was released from its construction duties, then sent to Gloucester, England, where they lived in tents and trained for the upcoming invasion.

The 296th left Gloucester in June, went to Southampton, loaded aboard LSTs and, shortly after D-Day, landed at Omaha Beach in Normandy. The men cleared minefields, kept supply roads open and worked on the front lines with the 4th Infantry Division in Operation Cobra that ended the slow, grinding bloody war fought in the hedgerows of Normandy. From there, the 296th joined the Army’s race across France to the German border.

On Dec. 16, 1944, Hitler’s armies launched their last major offensive, through the Ardennes, in what is known as the Battle of the Bulge. Panzer forces led by S.S. Col. Joachim Peiper pierced American lines and were headed to the Muese River, until as Peiper swore, they ran into “those damned engineers.” In his book “On To Berlin,” Gen. James A. Gavin, commander of the 82nd Airborne Division, said:

“Peiper’s arrival immediately south of Stavelot brought him for the first time up against a force that was to prove as effective as a good combat division. They were the Engineer troops of the U.S. First Army, specifically the 296th, the 291st and 51st Engineers.” 

When the war against Germany ended on May 6, 1945, the 296th went to Berlin as part of the American occupation force. In the time from its landing in Normandy, the battalion had taken part in five major campaigns: Normandy, Northern France, Rhineland, Ardennes and Central Europe. Twenty-one men in the battalion did not survive these campaigns. The battalion was disbanded in October, 1945, and most of the men, who had been overseas for more than two years, arrived back home in time for Christmas.

The work the battalion did on its march from Normandy to Berlin was not the type that commands headlines. They kept vital supply lines open. They built and maintained bridges so that tanks, trucks and supplies could move. They cleared mines and, when called on, performed infantry duty. They knew their casualty rate, compared to that of an infantry battalion, was low. Above all, they knew there were hundreds of other units like theirs who served their nation well in a time of a national crisis.

As most of the members came from New England, the battalion held reunions on an every-other-year basis, rotating the reunion locations between Connecticut, Rhode Island and Massachusetts. Some of the members formed close, lifelong friendships. Others came occasionally. The last reunion was held six years ago and only a handful were able to attend. Many used canes and walkers. And there was a wheelchair or two. 

Today, of the teenagers who formed most of the battalion in 1943, there are only a few still alive, and they are in their 90s.

The veterans of World War II are now old. In a few years, there will only be a handful of the millions who served still alive. Their Veterans Day hope is that the memory of what they did in the cause they served does not die with them.

Forrest C. Palmer, longtime friend of The Lakeville Journal, is a retired newspaper publisher who lives in Southbury and was one of the teenagers in the 296th.