"Nothing in hell must stop or delay the 1st Division."

General Terry Allen

As planned, the Allies deployed three potent military task forces for Operation Torch. The first was the Western Task Force and its mission after departing from the US coast was to land at Casablanca under the command of General George Patton. The second was the Eastern Task force, made up primarily of British forces, and its orders were to come ashore in Algiers.

The Center Task Force, principally the US 1st Infantry Division under the command of General Terry Allen, would take Oran. The target date and time for the landings was November 8, 1942 at 1:00 AM. President Roosevelt was anxiously waiting to make the highly anticipated announcement to the nation of the first offensive action by US troops since the country entered the war in the "Old World." Based on the six-hour time difference, the President planned to go on the radio in the US from "Shangri-la," the Maryland retreat later renamed Camp David, on the evening of the 7th to tell the American people US troops had landed in North Africa. Roosevelt was relying on the 1st Infantry to make a strong showing upon hitting the beaches in Oran. He knew their success would be vital to morale on the homefront, where the spirit of most people remained depleted by the humiliation at Pearl Harbor.

Anticipation grew steadily as the men of the 18th Infantry prepared to make their way down the English Channel for what would be their first journey into battle. Crammed into compartments on the troop transport Tegelberg, Pfc. Baummer and the men of Company H once again settled in for a passage to an unknown destination, but the thrill and elation of their imminent rendezvous with war abounded. Imaginations grew as each soldier tried to mentally prepare himself for his first real contact with the enemy.

Packed into over 200 ships as part of an 850 ship convoy coming from England and the US mainland, the invasion forces were indeed eager to begin their journey to war. Speculation was rampant, for precise orders had still not been handed down. Where they were going was unknown. The time and exact places of attack were a mystery. Bets abounded, most favoring the southern coast of Europe. Others placed their guesses on Norway, the closest point to stage troops for a direct assault on Germany, then to Berlin and a quick end to the war. Still others put wagers on the western shores of France.

The convoy finally headed out of the English Channel on the morning of the 27th of October. Pfc. Baummer was just one of almost two thousand soldiers who made passage to North Africa on the Tegelberg. The transport was an old ocean liner that once carried the wealthy to warmer climates on cruises. But, on this day the soldiers shivered on deck under threatening, leaden-gray skies and rough white-capped seas as the ship cleared the Bay of Biscay and headed westward onto the Atlantic.

It took three long, miserable days for the weather to break. The rolling transit left many seasick and everyone confused, for the armada of ships zigzagged in many directions to mislead any German air or water reconnaissance patrols about the final direction of the invading fleet. Pfc. Baummer fortunately remembered a lesson his father taught him about being below decks in rough water. Henry had told him to always look out onto the horizon if he was queasy, even to look out a porthole if he had to. So, as he felt the hull of the Tegelberg heaving beneath him, he stared at other ships, the horizon or anything stationary to avoid seasickness.

Others were not as fortunate. As the transport vessel rocked, many soldiers turned green and started heaving into drums and buckets. The more desperate even used their helmets. In the middle of it all, officers forced Atabrine tablets on the soldiers, urging the men to keep them down. Many thought the pills would relieve their seasickness, but the tablets were actually supposed to help them avoid getting malaria. Most wished they had malaria. Anything was certainly better than the way they felt now.

The weather eventually turned warmer and the seas flattened. Then the ships began to steady themselves on a more southerly course. The daytime sun started to shine brightly and nights brought the glow of a filling moon, making war seem more like a bad dream than a reality. The hard rigors of training were temporarily forgotten for preparation was now a personal, mental challenge. Except for the senior officers, no man aboard ship had been in battle before and each soldier privately contemplated how he would respond under fire.

Alone, sometimes in groups, the soldiers sharpened their knives, repeatedly took apart and oiled their rifles and polished their bayonets. Others played poker, threw dice or talked about anything but war. Many sat against their Val-paks or the ship bulkheads writing letters to relatives at home. But, the Army never totally let up on training. There were frequent inspections while enroute to assure the men were in clean uniforms with shined boots and freshly-shaven faces.

On November 1st, the shroud of secrecy was finally lifted. Briefings began at officer levels about the impending attack. They were shuttled down into the hold of the Tegelberg to observe large maps; maps that minutes before were Top Secret. The officers stared in amazement at the array of exhibits intended to familiarize them with the battle zone. There were large pictures of the African coast and topographical maps detailing the attack sites in precise scale, from the harbor areas to the individual buildings in and around Oran. Intelligence had identified the enemy's strength, the likely resistance forces and their locations. Even the weather was charted based on forecasts and historical data.

As officers filtered back on deck to brief their infantrymen and platoon leaders, troops gathered around to finally get word on the "big picture." Some of the first questions that came from the soldiers were revealing of war. Asking why they could not be informed of the plans sooner, their commanding officers told them if a ship had been attacked and anyone was captured, it would be very dangerous for them to know the exact strike location, for it would tip off the enemy and possibly force the entire operation to be abandoned. When this sank in, the men realized that if they had been captured, the war would be over for them before it began. Some thought it was better they didn't know. What if they were interrogated? Name, rank or serial number aside, not a single soldier wanted to be forced, coerced or tortured into revealing the battle plan. So much for the better that the officers who led the Division were experienced from the World War and knew what was best for the green men of the Big Red One.

But one other question left most of the troops even more confused. Why was the invading force attacking at a location defended by the French? Why weren't they going after the hated Germans?

The fall of France in June of 1940 left the North African French Colonies in the hands of the Vichy French who pledged to defend their territories against all invaders. British forces had attempted to occupy Tunisia and Algeria in 1941, but they were met with resistance and a total lack of willingness to negotiate any peace. This time it was hoped the French resistors would side with the Allies rather than the Germans who, by virtue of their conquest of France, had effective control over the Vichy French Colonies, including Oran in Algeria.

The men knew the French were not the real enemy. But Intelligence warned Colonel Greer not to underestimate the Vichy's motivation to defend their territories. The French African Empire had always been considered a formidable stronghold because its soldier population came from motivated natives and they were considered to be excellent fighters. The officers of this colonial army were known to be keen and zealous leaders who took great interest in their men. Positive relationships were prevalent and morale, particularly in the Foreign Legion, made up of mainly French-born soldiers, was outstanding. They were well supported with infantry, weapon companies, motorized units and even cavalry with attached mechanized units. Estimated to be nearly 6,000 men strong, Intelligence's composite of the resistance forces had to be taken seriously.

On the 6th of November, the blacked out and radio silenced Allied convoy silently steamed towards the entrance of the Mediterranean, the pass at the Rock of Gibraltar. General Eisenhower landed there the day before with a group of B-17 Flying Fortresses. He then joined the other Torch planners in his well-protected headquarters a half-mile inside the Rock.

The Allied Commander could do nothing but wait anxiously, for it was now up to the approaching assault forces to prove they were either lions or lambs in battle. Plans had been made, rehearsed, critiqued by military experts, modified and finally approved by both President Roosevelt and Prime Minister Churchill. Secretly coded reports started coming into Gibraltar about the fleet's progress throughout the day. All was going well. There were no known losses or attacks on any of the convoys.

On the morning of November 7th, the day before the Invasion was to begin at midnight, the most powerful military commander of the war took time to drive his Ford staff car away from his concealed headquarters to visit the fields near the Rock of Gibraltar. General Eisenhower heard that anyone who visited the Rock and saw monkeys would be a bearer of good luck. Traversing narrow roads with sheer drops of hundreds of feet at their edges, the General made his important discovery by mid-afternoon. After patting several monkeys on the head, he drove back to headquarters and the endless conference responsibilities and briefings awaiting him.

Aboard the Reina del Pacifico, which was carrying 1st Infantry Headquarters Company personnel, General Terry Allen quickly penned a short note to his wife back in El Paso. Even Allen had to be careful about troop movements, so where he actually was and what day it was could not even be revealed to the most important person in his life.

Aboard Ship

Nov -------

Dearest Mary Fran,

Long before this letter reaches you, the score will be known, so my news will be very stale.

Everything is set and we are almost ready to jump off into the big show. Hope it all turns out OK.

All my love dear

Your,

Terry

Later in the morning of November 7th, the sharper eyes of the soldiers aboard the first ships nearing the Straits spotted the 1,400-foot Rock of Gibraltar. Eventually the Spanish coast could be seen by almost everybody. On the starboard side of the Tegelberg, glimpses of the African Coast were starting to come into view for Pfc. Baummer and the men of the 18th Infantry. Eventually the entire convoy was inside the Mediterranean, its ships all sailing eastward, but still in confusing patterns to keep the Germans fooled in case the armada was spotted by an enemy plane or a patrolling U-boat.

Every soldier's eye was scanning the water or the sky for any sign of trouble. A rumor even spread about an officer in Company E who was caught throwing torn up pages of his tactics manual overboard when the Tegelberg went through the Straits. He was confronted by General Roosevelt and asked what the hell he was doing. The officer quickly and confidently responded with, "If we don't know it by now, it's too late to learn!"

Miraculously, the fleet was never spotted. A meticulous plan had been conceived to keep the Germans fooled. The enemy was led to believe any Allied attack would come in the passage farther east between Sicily and Tunisia. Consequently, German submarines and convoys waited there with destroyers, ready to ward off the invaders before they could depart from their ships. But their guns never fired and their false hope for a quick end to the approaching Allied forces was swallowed up by this carefully planned deception crafted by American and British Intelligence.

As darkness approached on the night of November 7, 1942, the fleet was still sailing eastward in orderly columns. Transports like the Second Battalion's Tegelberg were in the center, with warships on its flanks and more maneuverable destroyers on the outside in case they had to break off and attack an enemy convoy. At 6:00 PM a Protestant chaplain held interdenominational services on the Tegelberg’s crowded promenade deck.

The men were then introduced to yet another ritual of war. Pfc. Baummer's platoon leader ordered every man to get rid of anything that might identify him as a soldier of the 18th Infantry. Dumbfounded, they all emptied out their pockets. Military driving licenses were surrendered and old mess hall passes from Scotland were torn up. Even souvenir railroad stubs from London were thrown out. It all seemed so strange. The soldiers trained for months as the 18th. Now they were going to attack without an identity. What about their dog tags, they asked. They were OK. If the enemy captured you, only your Army serial number would be known.

The platoon leader reminded his men the Army simply did not want the enemy to determine the size or identity of the landing force. The Germans probably knew the 1st Infantry was in England and their spies were most likely able to determine the Division's strength in numbers. But, why let them know the 1st had arrived in North Africa.

It began to make sense to Pfc. Baummer. Even his Red One shoulder patch had to be removed. The Army ordered US flag emblems sown in their place to identify the troops as American. The brass was convinced the French would eventually accept the invaders as friends and wanted the troops to stop being targets as quickly as this might happen.

As darkness filled the sky, soldiers on the starboard side of the Tegelberg began to see the approaching glow of what they were told was Oran. Pulses rushed madly, for even from twenty miles out they could see the city was glowing with light, indicating it was not expectant of an impending attack. The soldiers could pick up hushed conversations as they heard officers quietly whispering about how relieved they were that the cover plan had worked. Finally, after ten days at sea, the fleet was moving into position.

Then suddenly, loud shots of machine gun fire were heard on the deck of the Tegelberg. Nearby soldiers instinctively ducked for cover. Fortunately, silence quickly followed this rapid volley of rattle and everyone looked around for an explanation.

Like everybody within earshot, Pfc. Baummer heard a lieutenant demand to know what the hell was going on, and then watched two guards with a soldier in tow head down below. The "captured" soldier told the officer he had gotten fidgety and, to break up the boredom, he had blown up some condoms, tied them off and then dropped them overboard. He went on to explain he realized the floating balloons might alert the enemy about the approaching fleet, so he had shot them so they would not leave a trail for enemy submarines.

Thinking the rogue soldier might be a spy, the officer put him in the brig and returned to his post on deck. Once there, he found a guard sleeping at his station. The officer's patience had been tried once too often. Tension was mounting. The guard was also ordered to the brig.

At exactly 11:00 PM ships of the attacking convoy began sharp, full rudder turns to starboard and headed slowly towards shore in a calm sea. Whispers suddenly quieted to a complete, deafening silence. Chaplains were busy offering last minute prayers to small groups of men. Thoughts of family ran through the minds of the soldiers. What would the news on the home front be? Would anxious relatives know who went in? Would the Army publish casualty figures?

By midnight, most ships had dropped anchor within five miles of the landing zone. Higgins boats were lowered into the water and the troops carefully climbed down rope ladders to board their assigned vessels and anxiously wait for General Allen's orders to go in.

Africa is the second largest continent in the world and thought to be mostly desert. But the area near the Mediterranean coast has a climate more like that of Europe. Its terrain is not endless sand dunes. Rather, it is hilly with mountains bordering fertile strips of farmland. Oran, which is the oldest town in Algeria, lay in a break of coastal mountains. A 2,000-foot peak towered over its artificial harbor on the west side of the port entrance. Looking straight in from sea, the ground was flat and open. The 18th Infantry was designated to land on the beaches a few miles east of Oran in the area's second principal port town of Arzew.

This town was reported to have a population of approximately 6,000. Pfc. Baummer's Second Battalion was designated to land on "Green Beach" in a zone that stretched for approximately 2,000 yards. The beach itself was about 35 yards deep and backed by a small wall of heavily vegetated sand dunes. Well-marked exits led to the principal point of departure from the town, a road along a railway line. Flat, cultivated ground lay adjacent to the exits. Beyond that, several mountain ranges rose further inland to average heights of about 2,000 feet.

After hitting the beaches, the Second Battalion was to position itself on the road adjacent to the railway and head directly for St. Cloud, a town about eight miles westward, where the men were to support the First Battalion and secure this objective. At the time of the landings, military intelligence knew very little about St. Cloud. They estimated its population at 4,000 and the only piece of information they had about the town itself was that it had a telegraph office and was a focal point for all principle railways and highways in the Oran area. Given this, its strategic value to the operation was important. Yet, there was no way of knowing what its military strength was until the men of the 18th Infantry got there.

At 12:55 AM on Sunday, November 8, 1942 General Terry Allen started the initial offensives of the Second World War for the United States of America in the European Theater of Operations by ordering the assault forces of the country's "first team" to head for the beaches. 1,120 men of the Third Battalion of the 18th Infantry from Companies I, K and L and its Headquarters Company joined with Companies A and C of the First Battalion, immediately separated from the Tegelberg and moved to the beach in their Higgins boats. Pfc. Baummer and others in the Second Battalion waited in reserve below decks by the dim glow of blue emergency lamps while the initial assault wave approached shore.

The charged invaders landed on the beaches at Arzew within twenty minutes. Their landing craft had become intermixed so the battalions reorganized themselves when they hit the sand. The Third Battalion companies were ordered to seize Arzew and the main installations in town. These included a military barrack and a post of unknown strength, a modest naval base, a telephone and telegraph office and two hospitals. There were also two oil storage tanks near a refinery the brass wanted cordoned off to prevent any fires. Colonel Greer ordered the First Battalion to move inland as quickly as possible and proceed with alacrity directly to St. Cloud. Given the town's military defenses were unknown, Greer wanted to figure out what he was dealing with sooner, than later.

By 4:00 AM the population of Arzew awakened to the fact it was under attack. Enemy soldiers at the barracks grouped and began to put up a fight, but as predicted soon put down their weapons. Within minutes, the barracks were subsequently taken without difficulty and the soldiers bagged 62 prisoners. The naval base put up a more vigorous defense and used well-aimed machine gun emplacements to fire on the American troops. But a mortar platoon came forward and quickly silenced the enemy positions, allowing the base to be captured along with a dozen seaplanes. The men of the Third Battalion continued their conquest, mopping up additional resistance and running down several snipers who were trying to escape into the hills on the outskirts of town. Eventually, 200 additional prisoners were captured and Arzew surrendered.

While Pfc. Baummer and the other companies of the Second Battalion waited for their orders to reinforce the First Battalion, word came down from the communications room on the Tegelberg saying President Roosevelt had made a radio announcement in French to the people of Oran stating, "We come among you to repulse the cruel invaders who would remove forever your rights of self-government. We come among you solely to defeat and rout your enemies. Have faith in our words. We do not want to cause you any harm." For soldiers awaiting their first moments in combat, the announcement of their arrival by the voice of their President, who was trying to make friends with the enemy before they had fired their first shots, seemed very strange.

But, the absence of enemy fire didn't last long. At dawn, shells hit the Tegelberg above the water line. Other shots rang out as high as the mast. The landings up to this point had been a big lark to the Second Battalion, still in reserve on board, but now that machine guns were playing taps on the side of his transport, Pfc. Baummer was suddenly taking this business of war rather seriously.

Meanwhile, back on African soil, the First Battalion was hastily proceeding directly to St. Cloud. Then, just after 7:30 AM, Pfc. Baummer received his first combat directive to go to war. The Second Battalion was ordered ashore to follow the First Battalion to the mysterious bastion. Word spread quickly amongst the soldiers saying General Allen had told everyone in the second wave that the first wave was met with little opposition. Smiling and chiding the troops as they boarded their landing craft, he jokingly told them he had just sent a signal to the French to put in their first team.

Pfc. Baummer strapped on his cartridge belt, grabbed his M-1 rife and ammunition, threw two canteens of water across his shoulders and stood up. He checked one more time to be sure he had his compass and first aid pack. He reached for his trench knife, and then felt in his pocket for his brass knuckles. He grabbed his Val-pak and quickly checked to be sure he had a change of socks on top. His feet were probably going to get wet, so the first thing he figured he would need was a dry pair of socks to march in. He glanced beneath his socks to be sure he had a change of underwear. He might need that, too. He pushed aside his gas mask, praying he would not need it, then re-zipped the bag. He tightening his cartridge belt, then reached for his steel helmet. He stuffed half a roll of toilet paper into it and strapped it around his chin. Then he heard the call to move out. Company H serials were announced on the loud speaker. "Debark on port S-3." This was war.

His landing craft sprang to life within minutes. Pfc. Baummer looked ahead and watched the low shoreline in front of him fade into the hills. He saw several bare trees, but little greenery. The fertile African soil had been baked by the earlier summer heat to a dusty brown. He made out Arzew at the foot of one hill and saw the jetty jutting out to form the harbor entrance. With some relief, he reasoned the Third Battalion must have quieted the town for there was no visible smoke, sounds of gunfire or any other evidence of war.

Suddenly his landing craft came to a stop about 100 feet from shore. Pfc. Baummer jumped out and waded in surf above his boots to reach the beach. With wet feet and over fifty pounds of unwieldy equipment on his back, he hurried onto shore and lined up in formation to begin the march to St. Cloud. His column quickly moved out. He never had time to change his socks.

Shortly after 9:00 PM on Saturday evening, November 7, 1942, the voice of the President of the United States was heard across the nation announcing the Invasion of North Africa. As Newsweek magazine wrote, "This is it. Those were the words that raced through the mind of the nation at 9 o'clock on the night of November 7th. The US had at last taken the offensive on a major scale. In a nation where the sting of defeat had gone deeper than most citizens would admit, this was the best of all possible news. From one end of the country to the other there spread a feeling that now the United States was going to show the world - as it had done before."

In Naugatuck, Connecticut the phone rang at 90 Oak Street throughout the evening. The questions put forth to Viola Baummer by friends and relatives all echoed concerns for Bobby. Had she heard from him lately? Was he in the invading force? Should we come over to the house and sit down with maps and try to get a better sense of the North African coast? Viola called Mary Phelan in Waterbury. Did she hear from Bob? Was he still in England? What was the date of his last letter?

Meanwhile, the Second Battalion continued its hurried march to St. Cloud. The road off the beach immediately rose sharply, leaving some of the soldiers winded. But the eight and one-half mile march was mostly uneventful, although it did reveal immediate and clear evidence of war. Pfc. Baummer saw four burned out enemy cars along the roadside during his climb up the hill. The First Battalion had stopped these vehicles with heavy firepower during their earlier advance. The smell of war’s waste wasn't what got to him. It was the sight of dead bodies that made the fact he was in combat hit home.

The troops eventually heard shots ringing out as they neared St. Cloud. When Colonel Greer learned the town was being vigorously defended by French commanders and Algerian mercenaries who were anxious to prove their mettle as fighters, he had quickly ordered the First Battalion to lay a fifteen-minute artillery concentration on the village. General Allen's lighthearted humor about the French first team being called up all too suddenly became a reality.

When Pfc. Baummer first came upon St. Cloud, he saw a town made up of stone and brick houses all at square angles to each other. The village was isolated in the middle of a shallow valley and there was virtually no cover for troops to approach its main streets. The surrounding land, grapefields during the growing season, was now barren, leaving only a few trees and some brush to hide behind. But at least the sun was warm enough to dry out his boots and socks. Sweat began to pour off his face. It was the heat, not nerves, he reasoned.

When elements of the First Battalion attempted to enter the town earlier that morning, they were immediately confronted by perfectly placed enemy machine guns. They were aimed out from the gates of the village, affording the St. Cloud defenders good offensive positioning for firing on the incoming Americans. The First Battalion lost three company captains almost immediately and was thrown into complete disarray by mid-morning. To overcome this, the Second Battalion was quickly given orders to move in from the south side of town and attack at noon.

Pfc. Baummer had enough training to know taking St. Cloud was going to be difficult. Scanning the battlefield, he figured a direct assault would result in many casualties. He studied the south side of the town and saw a low stone wall surrounding the local cemetery. He thought defensive positions could be taken up behind the tombstones. But he wondered how the troops would make it without any cover. The shallow track bed of the Oran-Arzew railroad ran behind the cemetery. He could barely see it, but he guessed firing positions could also be taken up in the gully next to the rails. Yet, he again feared lives would certainly be lost getting there.

The fifteen-minute artillery concentration put on the town in the morning had done little to budge the stubborn defenders. Despite the known absence of clear cover, two companies were soon ordered to move out into the open and attack. The defenders, with their excellent gun positions, fought back viciously and lead officers quickly reported nobody could get within 500 yards of the town's edge without being cut down.

Nevertheless, squads of Pfc. Baummer’s Company H continued to sneak across the thick vineyard field towards the cemetery. The bushes in their path were less than a couple of feet high, but they provided some cover. Crawling on their stomachs, the riflemen began to make small advances. Several moved forward as others behind them jumped up and fired at the defenders. With this alternating cover, they made their way to the white stone wall near the edge of the graveyard. They ducked behind it as bullets rang out and mortar shells screamed over their heads. They were definitely spotted. But occasionally Pfc. Baummer’s squad was able to pop up over the wall and fire at the fortress of St. Cloud. As blasts came from both directions, their platoon sergeant moved along the line, telling the men to stay low. There were too many enemy gun positions, he told them. Cursing, he said there must be a hell of a lot more strength within the city's walls than anybody could have anticipated.

After another frustrating hour of fire exchange, the brass determined the entire regiment was hopelessly bogged down outside of the city gates. Having converged into ineffective and congested positions, the troops lost their maneuverability and were ordered to retreat. But, not long after this, Colonel Greer received a report saying more of the heavy equipment and artillery that had been delayed in coming to shore the previous evening was now in position. Greer then decided the best way to dislodge St. Cloud was to lay massive artillery and shellfire onto the village with every 155-mm. Howitzer available to the regiment. Using a recently placed communication line to the Division command post, he asked Terry Allen for permission to start firing for thirty minutes beginning at 2 PM.

But General Allen was reluctant to allow the attack. First and foremost, other elements of the 1st, having not seen the conditions encountered by the 18th anywhere else around Oran, had successfully knocked out the strongpoints in their path to the city's edge. Therefore, the General felt the importance of taking St. Cloud had diminished and he instead wanted to position the strength of the18th nearer Oran for the attack there.

Using the judgement of a savvy and experienced field commander, Allen also considered the fact that the early morning shelling had brought casualties inside the town's gates. He realized it was not just soldiers of the resistance forces who inhabited St. Cloud, but also many women and children. He knew an all out attack with its destruction of property and needless killing of civilians would contradict President Roosevelt's message that the Americans had come as friends to liberate the people from the siege of Nazism.

Having considered all of this, Allen drove up to Colonel Greer's command post and found the 18th Infantry leader surveying the enemy's defenses with his field glasses. Allen gestured Colonel Greer into his makeshift headquarters’ tent and explained his decision. Besides the political and civilian concerns Allen had pondered before he arrived, both he and Greer agreed that if they bombed the hell out of the town and the attack failed, it would be a waste of lives and, militarily, a disaster. On the practical side, Allen expressed concern that the attack would take up too much of the 1st's scarce ammunition that was needed for the main attack on Oran.

Colonel Greer was understandably disappointed for he knew his troops were itching to fight and eager to prove themselves in battle. But Allen's decision would prove to be the right one and an essential part of what made the overall objective of taking the entire Oran area a success.

General Allen wanted to take the city quickly, so he soon drafted an order for a coordinated attack by all elements of the 1st Division beginning at 7:15 AM the next morning. Colonel Greer was told to leave the First Battalion behind as a containing force at St. Cloud. Pfc. Baummer, with the rest of the Second Battalion and the entire Third Battalion, were ordered to withdraw from St. Cloud and regain mobility for the advance to Oran.

After landing at Arzew, many of the soldiers had marched all night and then fought around the stronghold of St. Cloud throughout the next day. Too anxious to rest before being ordered ashore, most of the soldiers had not even slept the night before the attack. Yet, the troops set out on the main road to Oran in a wet, stinging rain and again marched through the night to be in position for General Allen's planned morning attack. The advance of both the Second and Third Battalions was subjected to artillery fire and scattered resistance by small pockets of enemy machine gunners and riflemen. Fortunately, a field artillery battalion flanked Company H and, although there were casualties, Pfc. Baummer escaped harm. By 3:00 AM the rain became heavier and the winds picked up, making already extremely trying conditions even worse. Greer's troops were still five miles from Oran at 4:00 AM when a message was delivered by one of General Allen's couriers confirming very simply, but directly that the attack was still on for 7:15 AM and "Nothing in hell must delay or stop the First Division."

Allen's courier, a colonel, then asked Greer how he was going to make Oran on time. Colonel Greer, in fashionable military sarcasm blended with the ever-present one-upmanship often played out between officers, told his peer, "I'll be there on time all right." Greer had allowed the troops to halt for an hour of rest before marching on and when still challenged about getting there on time, he barked, "If I am going to make it on time, what do you think it means? Doesn't it mean I am going to move very soon!" At about the same time, a young major made his first and last mistake in addressing his superior about an order. The major said, "The men haven't had any sleep at all and only one can of rations to eat all day long. How can they attack in that condition?" Glaring at the youthful officer, Greer said quietly but firmly, "You will not talk that way; you will attack!"

By now, adrenaline and determination had overtaken weariness and made the troops of the 18th Infantry more than combat-ready. When they reached the outskirts of the small town of Arcole, which was just outside of Oran, rifles, machine guns and scattered artillery fired upon the head of a column of Second Battalion soldiers. Colonel Greer ordered the men to break off and knock out the resistance, then continue the march to Oran. With the support of artillery fire, Pfc. Baummer and the rest of the Battalion quickly took Arcole and captured 200 prisoners. Then they moved out and eventually came within sight of the spires that marked Oran. Marching onward, they reached the outskirts of the city where they joined in surrounding the stronghold with elements of General Roosevelt 26th Infantry. The steady and coordinated push ordered by General Allen had been brilliantly executed and the French resistance in Oran knew it had no chance against this overwhelming American strike force.

Although all units made it into place by 7:00 AM as ordered, the first assault didn't begin until 8:30 when elements of the 16th Infantry entered the west side of the city and met minimal, but deadly accurate sniper fire. However, quickly assessing the formidable forces against them, the French soon put down their arms and word to surrender passed through the zone.

Meanwhile, the 18th Infantry was poised to begin its assault on the other side of town. At 12:00 noon Pfc. Baummer and other elements of the Second Battalion burst into Oran behind leading tanks and opened fire on the French defenders. By 3:00 PM, the converging battalions of the 18th Infantry had three-quarters of the town under cover and the French Commanding General had been captured. The armor of the 18th Infantry was so effective in frightening everybody, the Mayor of Oran came out of his offices under a white flag and offered to surrender the city to the 1st Division officers at the scene. General Allen ordered a cease-fire late in the afternoon and the Battle for Oran was over.

Across the Mediterranean at his command headquarters in Gibraltar, General Eisenhower had been receiving steady information about the combined British and American force's progress from General Lloyd Fredendall, Corp Commander of the US troops in North Africa. His first reports indicated the resistance initially ceased in the British zone near Algeria, but the Germans had flown forty bombers to a nearby field, holding up any eastern advancement by ground troops in the area.

The news of Oran's capture reached General Eisenhower by early evening on November 10th. With the work of the Central Task Force achieved by the 1st Infantry Division, two of the initial goals of Operation Torch had been completed. Eisenhower penciled a directive to George Patton to hurry up in the Western Task Force zone saying, "The only tough nut left is in your hands. Algiers in bag for two days; Oran now in." By 7:00 AM the next morning, Patton had Casablanca.

It was now dawn on November 11, 1942. Ironically, it was also Armistice Day, the day marking the surrender of the Germans during the World War nearly a quarter of a century earlier.

One of the first orders of business for Terry Allen was to congratulate his troops.

Later that evening, a jubilant General Allen took time from his duty as head of the occupation forces in and around Oran to sit down and pen a letter to his wife, letting her know he had not forgotten her.

Dearest Mary Fran,

Today is your birthday and it has been quite impossible for us to cable you.....

By this time you have no doubt learned that American forces landed in North Africa and completely accomplished all of its objectives....We landed on the 8th and reached our designated objective on the 10th after three days of unexpectedly hard fighting and rather severe hardships in the lack of water, rations and no sleep, practically for three days...

The Division really did a job and lived up to all its traditions. I am hoping that all my efforts and thoughts preparing them for this test resulted in giving them the help they needed...Our young officers and young soldiers took it on the chin and in their first actual combat really did a fine job...

The country here is very much like the country around El Paso. But, the flies, bugs are lousy....

I do not anticipate any trouble or moves in the near future, but I am sure that my luck will hold as it always has...

All my love,

Terry

To Pfc. Baummer, Oran was one of the strangest places he had seen in his young life. The four and five story buildings in the city were modern in appearance, but its population contradicted the urban image of the captured stronghold. The city had an oriental feeling about it, yet the people were comprised of dark-colored French and shabby Arabs. The latter wore tattered, patched and repatched flowing blankets and their women were completely covered in a single white sheet with just an eyehole cut out to see by.

The streets of Oran were narrow and stores were without goods to sell, although anybody that might be able to afford to do so could buy a Renault at the local dealership. Naked children ran through the streets begging for "shoongum," "seegarets" or francs. The soldiers found none of the excitement of home or the kind of entertainment they had been able to discover in England. Sure, there were cheap wines to drink, but there were no places to go dancing like the clubs in London offered.

However, Oran's 200,000 inhabitants were jubilant over the arrival of the American saviors and their voices often pierced the air with cries of "Vive America!" whenever they encountered US troops. French women approached the soldiers with baskets of oranges and vegetables. Knowing the American penchant for coffee, others brought pots of the roasted seed and some cakes. True to their orders, each soldier tried to form friendships with the population. But, none of the so-called good families would initially accept the advances of solidarity the Americans tried to put forth.

Uncertainty was now the prevalent mood of the more educated French, for they were not sure how long the American occupation would last. Many feared the Germans would organize a counter-strike and their new friends would be hurled back into the shores of the Mediterranean. But as time passed and no Germans appeared, more trust was eventually developed. When Thanksgiving Day approached, soldiers remaining in Oran handed out invitations for the French to join them for dinners throughout town.

Beyond this, there was not much for the occupation forces to do. With time on their hands, as soldiers often have after a major battle, there was plenty of opportunity to tell each other stories about their first combat experiences. Although figures were never sent home, the French resistance killed 94 1st Division soldiers and another 73 had been seriously wounded. Almost 200 others were hospitalized with lesser wounds and 73 more were still reported missing. It seemed each soldier knew someone who became a casualty figure in the Battle for Oran.

Pfc. Baummer received no wounds during the battles nor was anybody in Company H killed in action. But, Joe Michaelman was missing in action; and Stan Krosner, Dave Donahue and Pfc. Ciarelli had all been wounded near St. Cloud. Pfc. Fredericks was found to have a heart condition and was pulled out of the line. For him the war was over. The Second Battalion had the least number of casualties. Company C of the First Battalion lost two privates; 45 others had been wounded. The Third Battalion had casualties, particularly in Company I where five soldiers were hit. During the three-day operation to seize Oran, Arzew and St. Cloud, the 18th Infantry saw three of its officers and 37 of its enlisted men killed in action. Four other officers had been wounded along with 113 enlisted men.

The battlefield was not the only place war's carnage was evident. Word spread around about the damage down in the harbor areas. Pfc. Baummer and some of his buddies in Company H eventually toured the perimeter of the turquoise bay and stared in amazement at the funnels of sunken ships and the protruding masts of submerged destroyers. The destruction of war was evident everywhere in the port. A total of seven warships and a floating dry dock were sunk near the mouth of the harbor. More ships were due in with badly needed supplies. As the men tried to figure out what would happen, salvage vessels were being brought into the harbor. They eventually learned these ships blasted passageways through the destruction to clear a channel for the incoming boats bearing needed supplies for the Division.

Scuttlebutt was everywhere to be heard, but the most talked about story was what had happened to Colonel Greer and his party when they came to shore. Each landing craft carried loudspeakers to announce like the President did to the French that Allied forces had come as friends, not enemies, to their land. But, Greer's party was directed to give notification a different way.

Colonel Greer protested loudly, but his entourage was ordered to carry a heavy mortar to shore and to shoot a specially packaged egg-shaped bomb about two hundred feet into the air where it was suppose to explode into a firework-like display of the American flag in all its red, white and blue glory. Detesting the thought, Greer passed the order down to a sergeant and tried to forget about it. Shortly after hitting the beaches, the sergeant lit up the sky with his blast aloft and, as one first-hand observer told it, "Colorful sparks drifted slowly and majestically from the mortars, spurting columns of flame. The flag burst forth, then all hell broke loose." Apparently the French defenders, who were previously without a target, now had something to shoot at. Word spread that they had let go with mortar fire, machine guns and rifle shots. Although it was never a big threat to Greer's landing party, the soldiers had a good laugh when they heard their commander and his men had to hit the ground hard, cursing up a blue streak until the damned spectacle burnt itself out. Later, one of the men in Company H, Pfc. Eddie Alf, told his buddies that Greer did a pretty good job of getting back into the thick of things, as he saw the Regiment Commander later riding a bicycle under fire near Arzew.

Within a week, the 18th Infantry received orders to prepare to move out of their quarters near Oran and depart for outpost and guard duty in southern Algeria. The soldiers of the Second Battalion waited for final word from the Regiment's command post and when it arrived, the men discovered they were going to a distant town called Les Trembles.

Lined up in columns of two, Company H started marching out of Oran the next morning. They passed several burnt out tanks of the French resistance and also came upon destroyed American artillery. They eventually went by so many disabled enemy armored vehicles that the men stopped keeping count. They soon got to Les Trembles and set up camp on a farm at the edge of town. Army trucks brought up blanket rolls and other gear that the men left on the beaches when they landed in Arzew. Pfc. Baummer was reunited with his Val-pak, but when he examined its contents, he found it had been looted. It was one thing for him to discover his extra cigarettes had been stolen, but when he found his Zippo lighter was missing in action, he became angry. It had been a gift from Mary Phelan before he left the US. After conferring with others about their missing property, Pfc. Baummer's platoon sergeant concluded the thefts were probably committed by some lower-echelon supply co-ordinators. "Real heroes," he thought sarcastically.

It was less than a week since the Invasion started and the men of the 18th Infantry were already grumbling. Their duties were largely made up of night patrols, usually uneventful, but still lasting all night. With nothing much happening, the soldiers wondered whether they were going to be included in future operations. Rumors started. Some said the 18th was probably going to be shipped back to the US to train new recruits in amphibious landings. One sergeant offered he would place money on a bet that selected personnel would be sent to New York to set up a recruiting station. Baummer would be a good candidate for that, he said. He knew New York and enlisted when he didn't have to. He could sure sell others on the excitement of war and the sensibility of today's Army!

Another rumor spread suggesting the 1st Division was going to be broken up and parceled out to less experienced divisions. After all, why was the 18th at this remote outpost, while the 16th and 26th were elsewhere?

The rumors got so bad that Colonel Greer asked General Allen to issue a statement about the 18th's future. Accordingly, he cut a memo like the one issued after Oran fell announcing, "The operation just past was the first of a long series of combat operations for the Division." The memo closed with his trademark statement "Nothing in hell must stop or delay the First Division!" So much for parades and the glory of returning home as war heroes.

However, morale improved when an omen of General Allen's assurances the 18th would participate in future operations arrived in the form of British composite ration packs. The British sure knew how to serve up the best the battlefield could offer. The men soon found themselves feasting on beef stews, even steak and puddings. Naturally there was tea, but the best part of the ration was the allocation of seven Player cigarettes per day. But the excitement was short-lived. The troops never really adjusted to the way the British cigarettes tasted.

Duty remained boring. To give the men something to do, they were ordered to dig a slit trench around the camp's perimeter so there would be cover in case of attack. As if this was not enough, the officers filled other hours having the soldiers practice digging foxholes. The war for the 18th Infantry had what the Army called a "garrison life" feeling about it. It consisted of dull, boring routines with no immediate direction and almost without responsibility. Guests were even hosted. French Legionnaires, men the 18th had initially fought against, soon became friends and interesting teachers of North African geography and customs. Eventually, American rations even started to show up. The food wasn't as good, but the cigarettes tasted better. Passes were issued and Colonel Greer ordered any man on leave in town to wear a clean uniform. Dances at the town hall were eventually organized, featuring the 18th’s hurriedly organized dance band. Red Cross nurses began to show up. Local girls came heavily chaperoned. Plans were eventually made for Thanksgiving dinner.

Like every soldier, Pfc. Baummer wondered what the reaction was back home when they heard of the landings in North Africa. He thought how most people would think Africa was just a hot desert with sand dunes and no water. But November brought cold winds and heavy rainfall. Les Trembles' dry streets were turned into slow flowing rivers of mud. Pfc. Baummer, like many others, made his home in a tent with a shallow trench dug around it to keep out as much water as possible. Raw days were filled with more training. The limited nightlife was boring and thoughts of home became more prevalent.

Permission was given for the soldiers to write home from "someplace in French North Africa," but no details of the battle could be mentioned, nor any speculation about movements or orders which might compromise future plans. Soon the first letters began to drift back to the states. On the Thursday evening before Thanksgiving, Pfc. Baummer's thoughts turned to his family and he wrote his first letter to his mother after being exposed to warfare. The Battle of Oran had been a frightening experience for the twenty-one year old soldier. But Oran would only begin to foretell what would eventually be a long, bloody yet glorious chapter in history for the 18th Infantry during the march across North Africa.

November 19, 1942

Dearest Mom;

I guess it's time I wrote to you, but it's the first time that I have had a chance to. I am down in French North Africa now, but I can't tell you anything we are doing. I am still in pretty good health and getting along slow, but sure and I am still hoping for this war to end so that I can get back home to see you and the rest of the folks. Seeing the world is all right, but as the old saying goes, there is no place like home.

I am having two war bonds sent to you each month and I hope that you are getting them all right. I haven't written to Eddie for some time now, but you can tell him that you have heard from me and I am all right, and if you see Mary Phelan around Waterbury, give her my love and tell her that I shall write soon.

I guess this will be another Christmas that I won't be home, but I sure will be thinking of the good times I could be having if I was there, but there will be other Christmases that I won't miss. Don't worry about me, cause I can take care of myself when the occasion arises.

I hope that you are getting along all right with everything, and take good care of yourself while I am away. Don't forget to write to me and let me know what's happening around town and, if possible, send a paper or two.

The food we are getting is pretty good, but it couldn't compare to a nice juicy steak or a roasted chicken.

Well, Mom, I guess that I shall have to close now. I shall be thinking of you all the time that I am away. Don't forget to take real good care of yourself.

* * * * *