"May the knowledge that he made the supreme sacrifice for his

home and country be a source of sustaining comfort."

The Adjutant General

United States Army

to

Viola K. Baummer

July 27, 1944

It was an unusually mild night in New England on February 5th in 1997 when I called a Mr. Paul Stegall at his home in Greenville, South Carolina. I had mailed him a letter several days earlier where I introduced myself and explained that I was writing a book about the First Division in World War II. The letter was brief, only a page, and I had sent it accepting the fact that it was very unlikely the man receiving it could possibly be the same Paul E. Stegall who was listed as a casualty in Company H on June 9, 1944. But, the letter had invited him to call me if, by chance, he was.

Earlier that day, I called my office to ask my secretary for messages, a routine thing I always did at the end of the day. After going through them, she casually added that some gentleman had called from South Carolina and left word that he was the man I was looking for and that he wanted me to know he remembered everything from June of 1944. I was shocked.

When I nervously called Paul Stegall’s number that night, there were at least seven what seemed to be eternal rings before somebody picked up the phone. After being greeted by a woman's voice I quickly identified myself, then asked if Mr. Stegall was at home. In a very pleasant southern accent, this woman, who turned out to be Mr. Stegall’s wife said, "He most certainly is and he has been expecting your call."

Moments later, a quiet voice greeted me with, "Hello, I’m glad you called. I'm Paul Stegall. I was quite surprised to get your letter. Your uncle was one of my closest friends during the war and I’d like to help you if I can. You'll have to forgive me because it's been a long time since then, but I would like to tell you what I can about June 9th of 1944."

It had been a long time indeed - almost fifty-three years - and I felt I owed Mr. Stegall an explanation as to how I found his name. When I offered this he said that he was obviously curious, to which I quickly added, "It's a long story and you'll have to forgive me for I am somewhere between elation and tears at the moment."

Five years earlier, in early August of 1992, I had written a letter to the Veteran's Affairs Office, a branch of the military, in New Britain, Connecticut hoping they would be able to help me find medical and service records for Pfc. Robert A. Baummer that might help me discover how he died during the war. The person I later talked to when I called to follow up was quite helpful and he even offered to forward my letter to the National Personnel Records Center in St. Louis, Missouri where a file, if it still existed, might be able to give me the answer I was looking for. He also warned me that whatever information they may be able to offer from the Center was usually slow to come, that perhaps it might take years. But he said that he would be willing to put the request on his Department of Veteran Affairs letterhead in hopes that this might speed things up for me.

Amazingly, it did. Less than a month later I received a letter from St. Louis, but it offered little encouragement. I had hoped that the medical records I requested would tell me how Pfc. Baummer had died. Instead, the letter told me, "The record needed to answer your inquiry is not in our files. If the record were here on July 12, 1973, it would have been in the area that suffered the most damage in the fire on that date and may have been destroyed. The fire destroyed the major portion of records of American military personnel for the period 1912 through 1959. Complete records cannot be reconstructed." However, I was informed, "Alternate records sources often contain information that can be used to reconstruct service record data lost in the fire." A Certification of Military Service was attached to the letter telling me that Robert A. Baummer was a member of the Regular Army from December 16, 1940 to June 9, 1944; that service was terminated by Death and his last rank was Private First Class. But, I already knew this so I set the letter aside wondering what to do next.

Six months later in January of 1993 something moved me to try another way to obtain more information. Acting on the advice of a friend, I called the Connecticut office of United States Senator Christopher J. Dodd and spoke with an extraordinarily kind woman named Lois Santiago who listened quite earnestly to my problem. After empathizing with my dilemma, she told me that the Senator's office would be glad to assist me and that if I would take the time to write a letter to their office explaining my request, she would see to it that something was done about it.

So I sent the letter she requested and a month later I received one in return from Ms. Santiago. It was written on Senator Dodd's stationery and the bold, blue letters of "UNITED STATES SENATE" appeared at the top of the page. She informed me, "The Senator has written to the Personnel Records Center on your behalf. I will certainly notify you when our office receives any information." I was obviously encouraged by the seeming weight of the letter, but I wasn’t about to hold my breath.

However, several weeks later a letter indeed came. This time the Senator himself signed it. "Enclosed is a copy of the letter sent by the National Personnel Records Center," it began. But as I read further I discovered that the information the Senator was given was quite similar to the material the Veterans Affairs Office sent to me, including an explanation about the fire. I must confess that I was resigned to the fact I would never know how Pfc. Baummer died. If a United States Senator could not pry the information out of St. Louis, it probably did not exist. I anguished over this, did my best to set it aside and drudged forward with my research.

Almost three years later in the fall of 1995, I was at the Military History Institute in Carlisle, Pennsylvania digging through boxes of old records and manuscripts in search of what writers of history know as the never-ending quest for something new. It was nearing the end of the day and I didn’t expect much. I was also very tired, but I decided to ask one of the researchers who worked on the staff there if she had any idea how I might find an answer to the question that continued to elude me. Her answer surprised me in that she offered that I might try to write the National Personnel Records Center in St. Louis again, but address my request this time to the "Morning Report Branch." She also warned, "They may be able to help, but requests of this nature are backed up for years."

However, by now I had a friend in Lois Santiago and she worked for an influential Senator. When I got back to Connecticut I called her and asked what she thought. Seemingly caught up in my guarded optimism, she offered, "We have to give it a try."

Summer months go by fast in New England, but before the leaves changed colors, I heard directly from Senator Dodd again. This time I received the answers I was looking for. "I am writing to you in further response to your inquiry to my office concerning the request for a copy of the Morning Reports which you believe will explain how your uncle died in service," his letter began. "Enclosed is a copy of the material sent to my office by the National Personnel Records Center in St. Louis. As you will note, some records were destroyed in a fire in 1973. The NPRC was able to partially reconstruct your uncle's record. I hope this information is helpful - Sincerely, Christopher J. Dodd, United States Senator."

The attached letter from the NPRC evidenced somebody had put forth a painstaking effort to help. It was signed by Cheryl A. Betts for the Director of the Center and I presume this is the woman to whom I am forever indebted, for her reply stated, "Enclosed are copies of all available Morning Report entries from June through August 1944, for Company H, 18th Infantry, pertaining to Mr. Baummer being Missing in Action (MIA) and Killed in Action (KIA). We regret the photocopies are of poor quality; however, they are the best obtainable."

Ms. Betts had found and made copies of the actual Company Morning Reports made out in the field, signed by Lieutenant James A. Lucas, Assistant Personnel Officer of Company H, indicating the record of events for that period, casualties, the place of these casualties and some other interesting information. On June 9, 1944, there were eight entries of casualties. Several weeks later, some names, including that of Pfc. Robert A. Baummer, were changed from Missing in Action to Killed in Action as of that day.

Earlier in the winter of 1997, I decided to use the Internet to try to locate individuals on this casualty list who had the same first, middle initial and last name as they appeared on the Morning Reports to see if any of them might have survived the war after their wounds on June 9th, if they were possibly still alive and could remember that period, and to see if they could somehow be contacted. Miraculously, there was one match, but only one - Paul E. Stegall - and I was about to learn after nearly five years of painstaking effort just how Pfc. Baummer fell on the battlefield.

"I joined up with Company H at the end of the North African campaign," he began. "That's when Bob and I became friends. We fought through Sicily together. When the fighting there was over, we left to go back to England when the fall rains came. The mud in the bivouacs we were in was real bad. So bad the ground would stick to your feet. Even after you cleaned it up, it would cake up again after a couple of steps. We knew we were going to invade France. It was the only time we ever knew where we would be going. All the other invasions were secret and we were always guessing, but this time we had no doubt. When the day came, we went across on a big transport with nets hanging off the side. I don't remember too much about landing. It was just terrible and we were all scared to death."

"On June 9^th, I believe it was some time in the morning around 10:00 or so, we were moving from one hedgerow into another. Your uncle was a mortar man. He set them up. They were 81-mm. shells, you know. We were going up a wagon trail - that's the way the farmers would get into these hedgerows. We didn't think the Germans would pick us up, but they must have seen us coming, because they let go with shells and rifle fire which was unbelievable."

"Bob took a direct hit from a shell. He never knew what hit him. It happened so fast. But when it was over, there were bodies everywhere. So many were lying there, heads were gone, as were legs and arms. It was just awful. I had your uncle’s blood and flesh all over my uniform. I was lucky. I only got hit by splinters from the shell that killed Bob, as well as some shrapnel. You see, there were no evacuation tents that far inward, so they took me down to the beach, then back to England. I got out in time to get back in the line before we took St. Lo. God, that was awful, too!"

"Your uncle was a very lively fellow and we use to joke a lot. He kidded everybody. We all liked him because, even in the worst of circumstances, he always had something funny to say. He kept us up. I used to send $40 of my paycheck home, but I kept some money on me and Bob was always saying ‘I'm ‘gonna loot you when you get it.’ Please let your family know he didn't suffer before he died."

Although Paul Stegall knew Pfc. Robert A. Baummer's death was instant, nobody on the home front knew this back in 1944. Nearly a month had passed since the Invasion of Normandy in France, but the Army send a telegram to his mother just before Independence Day telling her that he was still missing in action. The local paper picked up the story and printed it on July 7th.

The Waterbury Republican American

Naugatuck, July 7 - Pfc. Robert A. Baummer, 23, son of Mrs. Viola Baummer of 90 Oak Street is missing in action in France, his mother has been notified. He is a member of an infantry division of the Army.

No details of the action after which Pfc. Baummer was reported missing were given in the notifying telegram, which stated only it took place June 9. It is believed the local man had been in France since D-Day. He is a veteran of fighting in North Africa and Sicily and escaped injury in both of these campaigns.

The last letter received from him was written on May 20 at which time he was feeling well. He was the first Naugatuck man not a member of an air force unit to be reported missing in well over a year. At the time of the North African Invasion, some Naugatuck infantrymen were reported missing and later listed as prisoners or safe. Pfc. Baummer has been in the Army since December, 1940 and has been overseas about two years."

Several days later, his mother received a hopeful letter from Washington telling her that the term "missing in action" was used only to indicate that the whereabouts or status of an individual was not immediately known, and that it was not intended to convey the impression that the case is closed. By this time my father's letter wishing his brother good luck in the Invasion had also come back to him with the same news. An ominous line was drawn under his brother’s name, underscored by an officer's notation written in red, indicating "Missing."

Although Pfc. Baummer’s family undoubtedly held out hope after receiving notification that he was missing, the Graves Registration people had already buried his remains in the 1st American Cemetery in St. Laurent, just inland off Omaha Beach. One of his dog tags was buried with his body. The other was nailed to his marker. The time and date of burial was 1700 Hours, 13 June 1944. A man named Root was buried on the right side of his grave; a Sternbank was on the left. The only personal effects found before he was wrapped in an OD blanket and put into the earth were his billfold and a knife.

Then on July 25th, forty-five days after the war took her son away, the telegram my grandmother lived in fear of for over three years arrived at her home.

27 July, 1944

Mrs. Viola Baummer

90 Oak Street

Naugatuck, Connecticut

Dear Mrs. Baummer:

It is with profound regret that I confirm the recent telegram informing you of the death of your son, Private First Class Robert A. Baummer, 11-012-180, Infantry, who was previously reported missing in action on 9 June 1944 in France.

An official message has now been received which states he was killed in action. If additional information is received it will be transmitted to you promptly.

I realize the burden of anxiety that has been yours since he was first reported missing in action and deeply regret the sorrow that this latter report brings to you. May the knowledge that he made the supreme sacrifice for his home and his country be a source of sustaining comfort.

My sympathy is with you at this great time of sorrow.

Sincerely yours,

J.A. Ulio

Long before I received the information I needed to find Paul Stegall, Pfc. Baummer's World War II medals had arrived from St. Louis. The gracious efforts of Senator Dodd's office again made this possible. While letters were being written to help me find information about Pfc. Baummer's cause of death, separate correspondence that I did not know about had been sent by the Senator’s office to the Army Reserve Personnel Center in St. Louis. On May 12, 1994, this special branch sent me a list of medals and emblems that would be forwarded "in short time." One page had a remarks section and it simply noted: "EXPEDITE/CONGRESSIONAL INTEREST."

A Mary M. Hixson, Chief of the Special Inquiries Branch, certainly did this. Just before the Memorial Day weekend that year, a package arrived at my home. Pfc. Baummer was awarded the Bronze Star for "meritorious achievement in ground combat against the armed enemy." He received two Presidential Unit Emblems; one for his battalion’s actions on Hill 350 during the final push for victory in North Africa, and the other for the 18th Infantry's incredible charge up the bluffs off Omaha Beach on the morning of D-Day. He received the Victory Medal for North Africa, Europe and the Middle East and the World War II Victory Medal. He was also awarded the Combat Infantry Badge and the Honorable Service Lapel Pin. For his supreme sacrifice in a war that was the largest single event in human history and was fought devastatingly across six of the world's seven continents killing fifty million human beings and destroying the heartland of most civilizations, Pfc. Baummer received the Purple Heart. My grandmother carried the one she received after his death in an embroidered purse until her own death in 1973. I have it today. The medals and emblems Senator Dodd sent, including the second Purple Heart, were placed in a proper display case. Today, they hang on a wall on the porch of my parent’s home where my father sits when he is at peace with the world.

The army sent several letters to my grandmother back in 1946, one of which included a picture of her son’s grave in France. By this time World War II had been over for a year and a half. The 1st Division raised hell with the Germans after pushing past the shell-splintered trees of the Cerisy Forest, close to where Pfc. Baummer died on the battlefield. The Fighting First went on to St. Lo and the surging break through towards Paris that Paul Stegall remembered. There was Aachen, the West Wall and the iron shoulder of the Bulge during the brutal winter that followed Pfc. Baummer’s death. Then came places called Vith and Malmedy, and what a Division historian remembered as "the shattered pines and snow mantled bodies of the slain in the Hurtgen Forest - bloodiest of battles." Then the doughboys went on to the Rhine, the mother of German rivers, to and across it, deep into Germany. No mission was too difficult, no sacrifice too great, duty was first. Four thousand three hundred and twenty-five men died in the Division during World War II honoring this tradition.

While many of them were buried in graves in France and remain there permanently, my grandmother never had a moment's thought to doing the same with her son. On September 19, 1947, in accordance with her wishes, his remains were disinterred from the cemetery in St. Laurent and placed in an Army-issue casket to begin a final journey home. A deuce and a half moved him to the port of Cherbourg where his casket was placed aboard the transport Robert F. Burns. After three weeks at sea, unhurried like the rush of the Queen Mary to bring him overseas to war, the Robert F. Burns passed by the Statue of Liberty and tied up to a dock in Brooklyn where his body was put under military guard to await transport home to Naugatuck. On December 16th, Sergeant Billy Ramsey, an extremely quiet and polite man, who never spoke unless he was spoken to, boarded a special train at Grand Central Station where he stood guard over Pfc. Baummer's casket while they journeyed to the New Haven station in Connecticut where his Aunt Mary Jane had dropped him off to go to war.

At New Haven, they transferred to northbound Train Number 20 and rolled into Naugatuck at 6:30 that evening. Pfc. Baummer, nearly seven years after he left his family to volunteer to serve his country, was finally home. His brother and his new wife – my mother - were there to greet him. My grandmother could not bear to be there. A delegation from the Veterans of Foreign Wars and the American Legion, all in uniform, helped remove his body from the train to the Alderson Funeral Home several blocks away. During the visiting hours from 7 to 9 o'clock, a two-man guard of honor flanked Pfc. Baummer’s casket, while many people came to see their hometown hero lie in state.

On Wednesday, December 17th at precisely 2 o'clock, the military funeral of Pfc. Robert Arthur Baummer was conducted at the church he was baptized in as a baby. A hearse followed by two limousines bearing his surviving family and immediate relatives drove the short distance from the funeral home to the town green and pulled up to the front door of St. Michael's Episcopal Church for the formal service.

Pfc. Baummer’s flag-draped casket was removed from the hearse, lifted up the steps by survivors of the war and family friends who were serving as pallbearers, then rolled down the aisle in front of Reverend Winfred B. Langhorst's pulpit. His family came in behind the casket and took their seats in the pews on the right side of the chapel. The ceremony was brief because darkness was just a couple of hours away, and there is no record of the tribute paid to the volunteer from Naugatuck, although the local paper reported it was an "impressive service." But, perhaps this poem, written by General George S. Patton, is appropriate, for the written page is the only pulpit gratitude can be made from today. I'm sure old "Blood and Guts," who would not go onto Sicily without "those 1st Division sons a bitches," would have wanted it, too.

When hearts are open and all the secrets known,

When guile and lies are brandished, and subterfuge is gone

When God rolls up the curtain and hidden truths appear,

When the ghastly light of Judgement brings past and present near

Then we shall know before wealth dimmed our sight,

Of all the sins, the blackest is the pride that will not fight

The meek and pious have their place and necessary are

But Valor pales their puny rays as does the sun a star

What race of man since time began has ever yet remained

Who trusted not his own right hand or from bravery refrained

Yet spite the fact for ages known and by lands displayed

Who still have those who pray of peace and say that war is dead

Yes, vandals rise who seek to snatch the laurels from the brave

And dare defame heroic dead, now filling heroes graves

Speak of those whose love like Christ's exceeds the lust of life

And murderers slain to no avail, a useless sacrifice

With Infamy without a name, they mock our fighting youth

And dare decry great hearts who die battling for right and truth

Woe to the land which heeding them lets avarice gain the day

And trusting gold its right to hold, lets manly might decay

Let us, willing yet for peace, still keep our Valor high

So when our time to battle comes, we shall not fear to die

Make love of life and ease be less, make love of country more

So shall our patriotism be more than an empty roar

For death is nothing, comfort less, Valor is all in all

Nations that depart from it shall sure and justly fall.

After the church service, the pallbearers carried the casket back out of the chapel while Pfc. Baummer's family followed. The ride to the cemetery along South Main Street past Kennedy's corner was marked by one memory that his only brother recollected. As the procession of vehicles was making a turn, an interstate truck driver recognized from the flags on the hearse that he was witnessing a military funeral, whereupon he braked, stepped out of the cab, removed his cap and placed it over his heart, stood erect and saluted.

Moments later, the long line of cars entered Grove Cemetery and drove past a small chapel, then through a gully lined with stones that looked like grave markers. At the first cluster of trees, the procession bore to the right and started down a hill, then veered left up a ridge and finally into another gully where the hearse halted next to a giant, old pine tree.

The casket was removed for the last time and put above its final resting place. Eight men carried their hometown hero to his last foxhole. Altogether, there were thirty-five uniformed soldiers acting as a guard of honor in the funeral party, many of them members of the Naugatuck "All-American Veterans" whose employers had given them the time off with pay to be there. A broken family stood to the left of Pfc. Baummer's casket, including his brother - my father - who felt his brother's death was his fault because he encouraged him to enlist in the Army a year before Pearl Harbor was bombed. And there was the doughboy's mother – my grandmother who had accepted her son's death with dignity but who also remained unsure for the rest of her life whether the body being lowered into the earth was really her son’s.

The graveside service was brief, but pageant. In the cold, crisp air of mid-December, one of World War II's many casualties, remembered by so many that day, remembered by one special soldier who he died next to years later, was about to be lowered into the earth. His tearful mother thought of his final letter home where he said he was feeling well before D-Day, now replaced by the lasting legacy of the sweeping ebb and flow of his brave actions during the largest single event of the twentieth century.

His glorious moment in history - D-Day on Omaha Beach would never be forgotten. According to 1st Division lore, "This is not a place on a map marked by the cross of swords or half-forgotten memories of dim battles long ago, but a place where emotions still quicken the heart and lighten the eye of the men who fought there."

A year earlier there was Sicily, where Pfc. Baummer avenged the death of his best friend from childhood after writing a letter home saying; "I guess I'll have to settle the score for him when I get the chance." And before this there was North Africa, where he fought in the first American force engagement against the Germans at Longstop Hill on Christmas Day in 1942 and in other letters home said; "Seeing the world is alright, but as the old saying goes, there's no place like home...I'm having two war bonds sent to you each month, Mom....If you see my girl, give her my love....I guess this will be another Christmas I won't be home, but there will be other Christmases I won't miss....Don't worry about me, cause I can take care of myself when the occasion arises." Dear Gram..."I'm in a hot spot right now, but you get use to it...I shall be looking forward to seeing you when and if I return."

1940 now seemed so far away. It was the year he volunteered to serve his country after the President assured his mother, "Your boys are not going to be sent to any foreign wars." His teenage years at the Junior Republic, where he learned nothing came to him in life without hard work, were now a faded memory. Later in life my grandmother told me that she always remembered the lasting image of her little boy when he was just five holding his older brother's hand in a picture of them each in a sailor's outfit - a kind-hearted boy who later gave less fortunate families food from the family larder during the Great Depression.

The body bearers folded Pfc. Baummer’s flag after removing it from his casket. Then a uniformed veteran stepped forward, sharply saluted his mother and gave the flag to her on behalf of the President of the United States. She pressed it to her breast as shots rang out - friendly fire this time - across the hallow of the valley into the cold air twenty-one times. There were sad echoes off the hills after each volley as the flags in the color guard snapped in the biting December wind. "Mother dear, remember me and never cease thy care, till in heaven eternally, thy love and bliss I share." When the salute quieted Reverend Langhorst led everyone in prayer.

"Before we go to rest, we commit ourselves to thy care, O God our Father, beseeching Thee through Christ our Lord to keep alive thy grace in our hearts. Watch Thou, O Heavenly Father, with those who wake, or watch or weep tonight, and give thine angels over those who sleep. Tend those who are sick, rest those who are weary, soothe those who suffer, pity those in affliction; be near and bless those who are dying, and keep under thy holy care those who are dear to us. Through Christ our Lord, Amen."

Then the right front door of the hearse opened and the bugler, who wanted to keep the valves of his instrument warm by leaving it on the front seat, emerged. He marched across the dirt road through the lengthening shadow of the giant pine trees and up a nearby hill. Every uniformed soldier remained at attention. My mother squeezed my father's hand tightly while he tenderly hugged his tearful mother.

Then all became quiet as the air filled with a final tribute to the fallen champion. The drone rang beautiful as taps were sounded. Finally the soldier's soul was at peace with the world and the heavens beyond, where he graces humankind with his spirit and a higher strength which will hopefully deliver eternal, glorious and blessed Liberty to us on this earth without the carnage of any more wars.

* * * * *