This tale had to do with both my ignorance and innocence, and how both traits can readily emerge when any of the armed services take a civilian and try to train him to be a soldier and, sometimes, an officer.
As some of you may remember there were periods of time prior to the invasion when I would be away from the company for a few days, or perhaps a week. During that time I, with several other officers from the regiment, would be engaged in planning the landing exercises that took place on the southern shores of England. My job was entitled "Battalion Transport Quartermaster". It was my duty, simply put, to see that you all were put aboard in the proper order, that you all had a place to sleep, that you were all fed properly, and that you were all unloaded according to the plan.
All of this information had to be put down in the form of orders, and these orders would end up being bound together in booklets of a half-inch, or as much as an inch in thickness. And, of course, this all had to be very thoroughly coordinated with the navy. You will remember, I'm sure, our big ship, the Thomas Jefferson, and how good the food was, especially the ice cream we could get from her canteen.
Suffice it to say that there were literally days and days of planning and coordinating prior to the exercises. And, of when we got down to the planning for the invasion itself the multitude of details, orders, and changes was absolutely beyond belief.
At any rate, just about a week before the invasion, and while we were all down on the south coast of England in one of those temporary camps, the various transport quartermasters were sent up to Scotland, where the big ships were kept out of harms way, with the final version of the orders, including all the last minute changes. There were about four of us from our regiment and upon arrival in Scotland we were put on board a small launch and ferried way up the river to be distributed to our respective big ships; in my case the Thomas Jefferson, known as the APA 4, to represent the 2nd. Battalion. Off in the distance was the U.S.S. Ancon, the Navy command ship for the entire Omaha Beach operation. Aboard the Ancon was the naval Admiral in charge.
Well, immediately upon arrival I went into conference with the various ships officers-about six of them-that were most directly concernced with our troops. They were most anxious to see the final orders, with timetables, etc., so they could adjust their own plans.
After about two hours work a seaman came into the office where we were working and handed a message to the senior naval officer, who, upon reading it, turned to me and said that the message was from the Ancon, informing us that the army officer who had gone to that shop had-poor man-brought not the new orders but the old ones, and would the navy deliver me and my copy of the orders to the Ancon.
Now here's where the ignorance, innocence, and civilian-become-officer all enters the story. Inasmuch as we, on the Thomas Jefferson, were just about finished with the last detail of our work I suggested that we complete our work and then I would take the orders to the Ancon, where they could use them as long as necessary. That sounds logical, doesn't it?
I do remember there were a few strange looks exchanged around the table but not a word was said to me. In fact, nothing was said except to tell the messenger to send the message. With that we proceeded with our work, only to be interrupted almost at once with a second message, which I remember in vivid detail and with great embarassment. It said, " Send the army officer and orders at once!" Signed: Admiral.
The look on the navy officers face told me that the Admiral meant just what he said, that I had better get my ass into gear, and "Good-bye, pal, it was nice knowing you".
So, into the launch once again and over to the Ancon, orders clutched in white knuckled fingers. I was immediately taken to the officers where the work was going on, turned over the orders, did my best to be helpful, all the while wondering how the hell I could have been so stupid as to suggest that the NAVY, and an ADMIRAL, at that, wait. After all, I didn't remember ever seeing an Admiral before, much less talk with one and answer his questions.
The conference soon broke up, our work completed. I fully expected that someone suggest I could swim back to my ship. But, no, instead I was told to stay for dinner aboard the Ancon. A young naval officer took me in tow for a wash-up and it was then time to go into the big wardroom for dinner. I was seated at a table " up front" and felt quite conspicuous in my OD uniform. However, I was made to feel at home and enjoyed a nice dinner.
But following dinner was when I got a big surprise, for without any particular ado the Admiral arose to make a small speech, during which he mentioned the unfortunate thing with the orders. All of this was in good spirit, and he concluded by introducing me to the assembled officers, ending his remarks with a sly, but kindly reference, to the fact that, " During all my years in the service there have been few, if any times, when I've been told by a junior officer to 'wait'. As we advance through the ranks we become more and more accustomed to instant compliance with our wishes. Well today it was suggested by a junior officer that I wait, and it was an Army officer at that. I shall remember it for many years, and I'm certain he will, too".
That ended the incident. We left the wardroom, with much good-will and friendship. Also, much poking of fun at a very embarrassed "junior" army officer. I was ferried back to the Thomas Jefferson and was soon on my way back down to you people in the south of England. I didn't see the Ancon again until the morning of "D" day. I often wonder about the Admiral, and remember him with much respect.
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