After a cold, cloudy, blustery morning and noon, the sun shone brightly on the concrete road that stretched the mile and one half from the barracks to the entraining point. It was the middle of the afternoon of March 29, 1945 and Service Company of 331st Infantry, 83rd Division began to sweat under the staggering load of its full field equipment. With each step the men looked around them at the familiar scenes; each man thinking about how this was his last look and wondering just what lay ahead. And each felt great relief that at last it was all over.
It had been a big job; for as Service Company most of the clearance for the Regiment had been through them. Everything had been checked in: all the dishes, brooms, sheets, trucks, hoses, beds, lightbulbs, even the buildings themselves, every last item had been counted and re-counted , checked and re-checked. The last Report of Survey had been sent in. The P.O.M. chart was securely stored away in the Field Desk. The Barracks had been swept out for the last time and the troops had crowded around the few remaining stoves against the chill of the day and waited for the order to move to the train. They had put on and taken off their equipment a dozen times. But now it was all over and they were on their way.
At the Railroad siding they waited for the train and shivered from the chill wind. At last it slowly backed into position and there was a general rush for cars. Each man trying to get on the Pullmans. They were later to find out that the troop sleepers were roomier and you did not have to try to sleep two to a lower berth. And as night settled down the train slowly puffed its way across northern Kentucky, across lower Ohio and east to Cincinnati. Then north to Cleveland and the route of the New York Central to Albany. Then down the west shore of the Hudson past West Point and at six a.m. on March 31st came to a stop at Camp Shanks, N.Y.
The trip had been a memorable one. Each town along the route had brought memories to some member of the Company. And when it was a home town, there were shouts and cheers and quiet thoughtful looking and loud pointing out of familiar landmarks. At Erie the men had looked out of the windows and wondered if maybe Crotty, who was over the hill might be somewhere out there.
When can we get to New York City? Do you think there would be time to get to Philadelphia on a six hour pass? Everyone will draw a new type gas mask. Everyone will attend the security and censorship lecture. When can we get a pass? Everyone will stand by for a complete clothing inspection. All weapons will be turned in for inspection. When will we get a pass? All weapons will be zeroed. All T/E items will be checked. Everyone will report for physical inspection. When will we get a pass? "This unit is alerted for movement to the port; there will be no passes." Gee, look at it snow. It never snows at home this time of year.
In column of twos they slowly made their way down the hill to the train. Each man with a number chalked on his helmet and struggling again with the full field. At the train they found their duffle bags and were counted aboard. With all their equipment, it was crowded, but no one noticed it very much. There was too much to think about. "I'm combat serviceable and I'm on my way. There will be no turning back now. I wonder what combat is like? Will I be scared? If only I had had a chance to see the folks before we left."
Crowded on the Weehauken ferry we watched the New York skyline and then crowded in to see the Statue of Liberty. We slid to the pier at Staten Island and marched down the pier to the tempo of a band. The Red Cross was there and the coffee and doughnuts really cheered us up. For the one hundredth time. "The men will call your last name, you answer with your first name and middle initial." "Scott". "Melvin, A." "Barnes". "Arthur, T.", one by one they shuffled forward, gave their first name and middle initial and dragged their equipment up to the gangplank. Into the vastness of the ship and then down, down, down, around, along, down...