Friday Music

French stilt dancing—called échasses dancing—originates from the Landes region of southwestern France, particularly around towns like Mont-de-Marsan and Saint-Sever.

Stilts (échasses) were originally practical tools for shepherds navigating the swampy, marshy terrain of the Landes. The stilts (up to 5 feet high) allowed them to move more easily through water, watch over their flocks, and travel longer distances.  With the passage of time, the shepherds and rural people began using stilts in festivities and demonstrations, turning them into a performing art.

The dancing involves traditional folk movements—hops, kicks, twirls, and coordinated group steps—all performed while balanced on stilts.  Dancers typically wear traditional regional attire, including berets, vests, and wooden shoes attached to the stilts.  The music is performed on traditional instruments like the boha (Gascon bagpipe), flutes, or accordions.  

Nowadays,  performance troupes like Lous Esquiroûs or Les Échassiers de l’Armagnac keep the tradition alive, performing across France and internationally at festivals and cultural events.  Stilt dancing is a proud tradition and part of thee region's cultural identity and history.

Eighty-One Years

Yesterday marked the 81st anniversary of the D-Day landings on the Cotentin Peninsula of Northern France.  The next step in wresting tyranny from the Axis powers and returning freedom to the people of Europe after years of occupation.

My father landed on Utah Beach as an infantry replacement following the initial invasion.  He was a machine gunner in a weapons platoon.  He spent more time training for his assignment  than fulfilling it.  He was wounded in September in the liberation of Belgium.  Repatriated to England to recover from his wounds he returned after the surrender of Germany to serve briefly in the Army of Occupation before returning stateside.

Quite the adventure for a 20 year-old man who came of age in the depression years.

Anyway, on our first trip to France we traced his unit's movements In the Bocage of the Norman countryside.  Some photos from the beachhead and the first objective; the town of Sainte-Marie-du-Mont....

 

Memorial Day

It is, in a way an odd thing to honor those who died in defense of our country....in wars far away.  The imagination plays a trick.  We see these soldiers in our mind as old and wise.  We see them as something like the Founding Fathers, grave and gray haired.

But most of them were boys when they died, and they gave up two lives - the one they were living and one they would have lived...

- Ronald Reagan

Originally called Decoration Day - Memorial Day is a day of remembrance for those who have died in service to our country.

There is an American Cemetery and Memorial located in Colleville-sur-Mer on the bluff overlooking Omaha Beach in Normandy, France.  Dedicated in 1956 the Cemetery and Memorial is situated closely to the site of the temporary American St. Laurent Cemetery, established by the U.S. First Army on June 8, 1944 - the first American cemetery on European soil in World War II.  

This is the final resting place of 9,388 of our military dead - most of whom lost their lives in the D-Day landings and ensuing operations.  If you were to visit this place you will note that upon the walls of the Garden of the Missing are inscribed an additional 1,557 names.  And because old battlefields continue to yield their dead - rosettes mark the names of those since recovered and identified.

In Plot E Row 26 Grave 37 rests James D. Johnston - Lieutenant Colonel, U.S. Army, 47th Infantry Regiment, 9th Infantry Division.  Jill and I walked this sacred place on a typical rainy Norman morning and while I have no direct connection to James Johnston, his life before the war, or his survivors following the war what you can discern from the marker is that Johnston was from North Carolina and was a commander in the same division and infantry regiment my dad served.  

Some of you know that my father landed at Utah Beach as an infantry replacement.  He was a machine gunner in a heavy weapons platoon.  Dad fought in the battle of the hedgerows, the breakout at Saint-Lô and Patton's mad dash across northern France.  His participation in the liberation of Belgium was interrupted by wounds incurred in combat.  Following his recovery in England he served for a brief period in the US Army of Occupation in Germany.

Dad returned home from the war and lived a full and rewarding life. He worked quietly in a public school system and never spoke about his war experiences in any great detail until I was in college. I am alive today to muse about this subject because he survived.  James Johnston never had the opportunity to sit on the stoop and share closely-guarded feelings about the war with a son.  

This is why Memorial Day is personal to me.

A bit of reading reveals that Johnston died from wounds suffered from the detonation of a German 88mm shell at the blood-stained Crossroads 114 near Acqueville just outside of Cherbourg.  Death in combat was fickle in the skirmishes and battle for mere meters in the uneven and mixed woodlands and pastures of the Bocage.  PFC Gaertner survived - Lt Col Johnston did not.

When it came time for a permanent burial, the families of the dead were asked if they wanted their loved ones repatriated for permanent burial in the U.S. or interred overseas.  Lieutenant Colonel Johnston's remains lie here with approximately 461 graves belonging to 9th Infantry Division G.I.s.

Today it is useful to remember and honor the lives that brave men and women sacrificed.  

Both of those lives.
 

click on images for a closer look

 

 

_{*Eight Stars to Victory - Mittelman, The Battery Press}

 

On This Day In History

July 25, 1944 - Almost two months after the successful landings at Normandy, allied troops remained bottled-up in the mud and misery of the Bocage.  Norman hedgerow country where advances and retreats were measured in yards.   

Then and now.

 

Operation Cobra was conceived as a bold attempt at breaking-out and making it to open country and room for maneuver.  Key to the break-out called for a massive aerial bombardment of a narrow sector west of the battered town of Saint-Lô.  With more than 3000 planes this would be largest, concentrated bombing attempt in history.  Ninth Division troops - including dad's unit - had retreated from their forward positions to a bomb-safety line.  Shortly before 10 AM the bombardment commenced.  Middle-weight fighter bombers were followed by heavy bombers - carpet bombing an area 6000 yards wide along the Saint-Lô–Periers road.

Photo - US Army

Immediately things went awry.  Smoke from the bombing began to drift back towards the bomb-safety line obscuring the marker panels.  Flying crews released their clusters right into the smoke, missing their mark and falling short among friendly troops.  

The 47th Infantry of the 9th and the 120th Infantry of the 30th Division suffered more than six hundred casualties from friendly fire.  All but two individuals of Howard's 3rd battalion command group were killed.  The largest aerial bombardment in history also become one of the largest incidents of fratricide in US Army history.

Here's the bomb line...

^{On the Saint-Lô–Periers road - east is the town of Saint-Lô}

 

^{On the Saint-Lô–Periers road facing west - follow the D29 to the German cemetery}

From the memoirs of Howard Gaertner.

July 25th our bombers and fighters, over 3000 aircraft, hit the area about Saint-Lo.  This is still clearly imprinted in my mind.  Even though we were pulled back a good distance from the front - shock waves caused by the exploding bombs denuded many trees and bushes of their foliage.  Our trousers and jackets flapped as if we were caught in a hurricane.  We lost several of our comrades because ground panels we displayed to indicate our positions became obscured by the dust.  It was here that Art Draeving was killed.  Art and I trained together at Butner.  We were in the same platoon.  Art was a farm boy from central Wisconsin.  After the bombardment we moved out only to be greeted by the now-familiar sound of burp guns.

After advancing perhaps a quarter of a mile we came upon a deserted German aid station.  Much to our surprise we found six or seven dead German soldiers.  They obviously had been treated for their wounds.  One in particular was encased in a partial cast.  Apparently they died from their wounds and were left behind because of a hasty withdrawal and or lack of transport.

Lozon - liberated by the 47th's 3rd Battalion by nightfall on the 25th of July, 1944

Later we went into reserve.  This comes to mind for several reasons.  First, we were bivouacked just ahead of our artillery.  Second, a bloated, foul-smelling, dead cow graced our area.  I believe the entire company got together and buried the carcass in record time.  Also, it seems that during this brief respite the Mess Sergeant slaughtered a cow.  This was to be our first warm meal in some time.

Contented Norman cows today

A day or two later we were returned to action.  We made a forced march at night.  We became so dog tired that some of our group fell asleep while marching.  A tumble in the roadside ditch did wonders in providing a second wind.  Later that night, as we were crossing an open field, we got caught by the light of a parachute flare.  We froze and waited for the worse.  After a few seconds (that seemed like an eternity) we dashed for cover.

Against fierce resistance Howard's 3rd Battalion led the 47th's attack supported by artillery and fire from the 1st and 2nd Battalions.

Photo - US Army

 

 

D-Day Advance

80h anniversary - then and now....

D-Day

80th Anniversary. 

 

Sgt. Joseph Gorenc, assistant S3 of HQ/3, 506th PIR, 101st Airborne Division, climbing aboard C-47 Dakota 8Y-S “Stoy Hora” of the 440th Troop Carrier Group at RAF Exeter, Southwest England, for the D-Day airborne assault on Normandy - June 5, 1944.

 

Joseph F. Gorenc Jr. was born on April 24, 1923 in Sheboygan, Wisconsin. 

 

Two days after D-Day, Sgt. Gorenc was taken prisoner near St. Côme-du-Mont and reported as MIA. He later escaped from a prison train, joined the French Resistance blowing up bridges and other sabotage, then made it back to the UK in time to rejoin the 101st Airborne for 'Operation Market Garden'.

 

Gorenc returned home after the war, married, had two daughters, and was involved in a new startup manufacturing firm. 

 

In October 1957, Gorenc was severely injured in an industrial accident when an oil tank exploded. He passed away from his injuries two weeks later at the age of 34 on October 30, 1957. 

 

Gorenc is buried at Greendale Cemetery, Kohler, Wisconsin.

 

D-Day

Utah Beach - click on images to enlarge

 

Soldiers, Sailors, and Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Force: 

You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. 

The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you.

In company with our brave Allies and brothers-in-arms on other Fronts you will bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world. 

Your task will not be an easy one. Your enemy is well trained, well equipped, and battle-hardened. He will fight savagely. 

But this is the year 1944. Much has happened since the Nazi triumphs of 1940-41. The United Nations have inflicted upon the Germans great defeats, in open battle, man-to-man. Our air offensive has seriously reduced their strength in the air and their capacity to wage war on the ground. Our Home Fronts have given us an overwhelming superiority in weapons and munitions of war, and placed at our disposal great reserves of trained fighting men. The tide has turned. The free men of the world are marching together to victory. 

I have full confidence in your courage, devotion to duty, and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less than full victory. 

Good Luck! And let us all beseech the blessing of Almighty God upon this great and noble undertaking.   

- Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower, Supreme Commander, Allied Expeditionary Forces 

Pfc. Howard H. Gaertner waded-ashore at Utah Beach following the initial invasion as an infantry replacement.  Trained in heavy weapons – mortar and machine gun - he was assigned to M Company, 47^th Infantry, Ninth Division as a machine gunner in a weapons platoon. 

After being bottled-up in the Bocage of the Norman countryside where progress was often measured in a few hundred yards – at the close of July he participated in Operation Cobra - the breakout at Saint-Lô.  In the ensuing weeks his unit linked-up with British troops to out-flank and encircle fleeing German forces.  Straining their supply lines to the extreme his unit later provided infantry support to General George Patton’s armored dash across Northern France. 

Howard was convinced that his squad was the first to liberate Belgium when they surprised and captured a group of unsuspecting German soldiers sipping wine at a Belgian café.  You would have to take his word for it.  Later in September he was wounded in the Meuse River crossing and for Howard the war was over. 

Recovered from his wounds Howard served in the occupation army in Germany, returned home, went to school, got married and raised a family.  If he was alive today he would be 100 years old. 

Funny thing is that other than vague and general terms he rarely spoke of his time in combat as I was growing-up.  It wasn’t until I was in college that the details emerged. 

My first of three trips to France was in 2012 and Jill and I spent time touring the Normandy battlefield in a rental car.  Meticulous records maintained by the US Army allowed us to literally retrace Howard’s footsteps through the Norman countryside.  Spooky stuff for sure. 

I’ve included a couple of photos from the invasion beachhead that are before and after pics of real places he may have walked. 

Raising a toast to the Greatest Generation for liberating continent Europe from fascist rule....

Utah Beach Sea Wall

 

 

Beachhead Bunker

 

Memorial Day

It is, in a way an odd thing to honor those who died in defense of our country, in defense of us, in wars far away.  The imagination plays a trick.  We see these soldiers in our mind as old and wise.  We see them as something like the Founding Fathers, grave and gray haired.         

But most of them were boys when they died, and they gave up two lives - the one they were living and one they would have lived.       

When they died, they gave up their chance to be husbands and fathers and grandfathers.  They gave up their chance to be revered old men.  They gave up everything for our country, for us.  And all we can do is remember.    

 - Ronald Reagan

 

Originally called Decoration Day - Memorial Day is a day of remembrance for those who have died in service to our country.                          

There is an American Cemetery and Memorial located in Colleville-sur-Mer on the bluff overlooking Omaha Beach in Normandy, France.  Dedicated in 1956 the Cemetery and Memorial is situated closely to the site of the temporary American St. Laurent Cemetery, established by the U.S. First Army on June 8, 1944 - the first American cemetery on European soil in World War II.              

This is the final resting place of 9,388 of our military dead - most of whom lost their lives in the D-Day landings and ensuing operations.  If you were to visit this place you will note that upon the walls of the Garden of the Missing are inscribed an additional 1,557 names.  And because old battlefields continue to yield their dead - rosettes mark the names of those since recovered and identified.              

In Plot E Row 26 Grave 37 rests James D. Johnston - Lieutenant Colonel, U.S. Army, 47th Infantry Regiment, 9th Infantry Division.   

Jill and I walked this sacred place on a typical rainy Norman morning and while I have no connection to James Johnston, his life before the war, or his survivors following the war, what you can discern from the marker is that Johnston was from North Carolina and was a commander in the same division and infantry regiment my dad served.  

       

Howard Gaertner landed at Utah Beach as an infantry replacement.  He was a machine gunner in a heavy weapons platoon.  Dad fought in the battle of the hedgerows, the breakout at Saint-Lô and Patton's mad dash across northern France.  

Among the first allied troops to participate in the liberation of Belgium his European excursion ended less than three months later by wounds incurred in combat.  By the grace of God (and fortunately for me) he was not killed.  Following his recovery in England he was redeployed and served for a brief period in the US Army of Occupation in Germany.        

 

Johnston died from wounds suffered from the detonation of a German 88mm shell at the blood-stained Crossroads 114 near Acqueville just outside of Cherbourg.*  Death in combat was fickle in the skirmishes and battle for mere meters in the uneven and mixed woodlands and pastures of the Bocage.  Lt Col Johnston was killed - PFC Gaertner was not. 

Dad returned home from the war and lived a full and rewarding life.  He worked quietly in a public school system and never spoke about his war experiences in any great detail until I was well into adulthood.  I am alive today to muse about this subject because he survived.  James Johnston never had the opportunity to sit on the stoop with a a beer and share closely-guarded feelings about the war with a son.        

This is why Memorial Day is bit more personal for me.        

When it came time for a permanent burial, the families of the dead were asked if they wanted their loved ones repatriated for permanent burial in the U.S. or interred overseas.  Lieutenant Colonel Johnston's remains lie here with approximately 461 graves belonging to 9th Infantry Division G.I.s.           

On this holiday it is useful to remember and honor the lives that brave men and women sacrificed.

Both of those lives.   

 

 

 *Eight Stars to Victory - Mittelman, The Battery Press

 

 

Armistice Day

On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month of 1918, there was a temporary cessation of hostilities on the Western Front of World War I as a consequence of the armistice signed by the Allies and Germany.

American troops in France celebrate the armistice

On its first anniversary President Woodrow Wilson proclaimed November 11, 1919 as the first celebration of Armistice Day.  In 1938 this day officially became a federal holiday.  Later, in the aftermath of World War II and the Korean War, Armistice Day became known as Veterans Day in the United States.  And while the allied nations honor members of their armed forces on Armistice Day – we commemorate it as Veterans Day.  

Inasmuch as today is Veterans Day I figure I'd take a moment to talk about my favorite veteran - Howard Gaertner.  Who also happens to be my dad.  Dad has been gone now for more than thirteen years already but I'm sure he'd appreciate the mention. 

This picture of him was taken in Kidderminster England, November 2, 1944. 

He'd already spent more than three months in combat - including the invasion at Normandy, the battle of the hedgerows, the breakout of the bocage at Saint-Lô, the dash across northern France with Patton's forces and the liberation of Belgium.  He was evacuated to England after being wounded in the Meuse River crossing in September of 1944.  Following his convalescence he returned to Germany for much of 1945 with the Army of Occupation.  

This was turning out to be much more than an average adventure for a previously skinny depression-era kid who was drafted after graduating high school.  

Thinking of dad today and giving a shout out to all of my acquaintances and friends who have served in the armed forces of our nation and call themselves veterans.

Memorial Day

It is, in a way an odd thing to honor those who died in defense of our country, in defense of us, in wars far away.  The imagination plays a trick.  We see these soldiers in our mind as old and wise.  We see them as something like the Founding Fathers, grave and gray haired.         

  

But most of them were boys when they died, and they gave up two lives - the one they were living and one they would have lived.       

When they died, they gave up their chance to be husbands and fathers and grandfathers.  They gave up their chance to be revered old men.  They gave up everything for our country, for us.  And all we can do is remember.    

 - Ronald Reagan

 

Originally called Decoration Day - Memorial Day is a day of remembrance for those who have died in service to our country.                          

There is an American Cemetery and Memorial located in Colleville-sur-Mer on the bluff overlooking Omaha Beach in Normandy, France.  Dedicated in 1956 the Cemetery and Memorial is situated closely to the site of the temporary American St. Laurent Cemetery, established by the U.S. First Army on June 8, 1944 - the first American cemetery on European soil in World War II.              

This is the final resting place of 9,388 of our military dead - most of whom lost their lives in the D-Day landings and ensuing operations.  If you were to visit this place you will note that upon the walls of the Garden of the Missing are inscribed an additional 1,557 names.  And because old battlefields continue to yield their dead - rosettes mark the names of those since recovered and identified.              

In Plot E Row 26 Grave 37 rests James D. Johnston - Lieutenant Colonel, U.S. Army, 47th Infantry Regiment, 9th Infantry Division.   

Jill and I walked this sacred place on a typical rainy Norman morning and while I have no connection to James Johnston, his life before the war, or his survivors following the war, what you can discern from the marker is that Johnston was from North Carolina and was a commander in the same division and infantry regiment my dad served.  

       

Howard Gaertner landed at Utah Beach as an infantry replacement.  He was a machine gunner in a heavy weapons platoon.  Dad fought in the battle of the hedgerows, the breakout at Saint-Lô and Patton's mad dash across northern France.  

Among the first allied troops to participate in the liberation of Belgium his European excursion ended less than three months later by wounds incurred in combat.  By the grace of God (and fortunately for me) he was not killed.  Following his recovery in England he was redeployed and served for a brief period in the US Army of Occupation in Germany.        

 

Johnston died from wounds suffered from the detonation of a German 88mm shell at the blood-stained Crossroads 114 near Acqueville just outside of Cherbourg.*  Death in combat was fickle in the skirmishes and battle for mere meters in the uneven and mixed woodlands and pastures of the Bocage.  Lt Col Johnston was killed - PFC Gaertner was not. 

Dad returned home from the war and lived a full and rewarding life.  He worked quietly in a public school system and never spoke about his war experiences in any great detail until I was well into adulthood.  I am alive today to muse about this subject because he survived.  James Johnston never had the opportunity to sit on the stoop with a a beer and share closely-guarded feelings about the war with a son.        

This is why Memorial Day is bit more personal for me.        

When it came time for a permanent burial, the families of the dead were asked if they wanted their loved ones repatriated for permanent burial in the U.S. or interred overseas.  Lieutenant Colonel Johnston's remains lie here with approximately 461 graves belonging to 9th Infantry Division G.I.s.           

On this holiday it is useful to remember and honor the lives that brave men and women sacrificed.

Both of those lives.   

 

 

 *Eight Stars to Victory - Mittelman, The Battery Press

 

A Walk Down Memory Lane

One of my cloud photo storage reservoirs is hosted by America's premier search engine.  And from time-to-time Google sends an unsolicited zinger my way.  This photo was suggested to me Monday evening.

 

That was also the anniversary of V-E Day; Victory in Europe Day. On this day Germany unconditionally surrendered to allied forces in Europe.  Coincidence?  Between you and me I think it is their version of AI (artificial intelligence) at work.

 

Anyway, this photo was taken in Reims France in 1945 after the cessation of hostilities.

 

That is my pop (Howard) on the right with his Cathedral High School pal Donald Darnieder. 

 

Dad landed at Utah Beach as an combat infantryman. Wounded in the liberation of Belgium in September he was evacuated to England. Following recovery from his wounds he returned to the continent and served in the Army of Occupation in Germany after the war.

 

Don was ordained a priest the year I was born.

 

Thanks, Google, for the walk down memory lane.

 

National WWII Museum

On our road trip to the Gulf Coast we made a point during our time spent in New Orleans to visit The National WWII Museum.  From a purely sensory point of view it was close to overwhelming.  I don't mean that in a negative sense; but unlike other museums this venue makes significant use of personal testimonials and multimedia lighting and sound technology to add realism to many of its experiences.

I recommend a visit - particularly if you like military history or have a personal connection.

Most of you readers likely know that my father was an infantryman during WWII. 

Howard landed at Utah Beach as an infantry replacement shortly on the heels of the initial invasion. He was assigned to M Company, 47^th Infantry Regiment, Ninth Division. He served in a weapons platoon and including mortar his MOS was - 605 - heavy machine gunner.   

He was a gunner on this...

The M1917A1 Browning Machine Gun

Introduced in the waning days of the First World War this heavy machine gun saw service in multiple global conflicts from 1917 into the 1970s.  

This was a crew-served, belt-fed, .30 caliber, water-cooled machine gun.  The weapon had a cyclic rate of 450 to 600 rounds per minute and unlike the lighter, air-cooled, Browning Model 1919, was capable of a longer sustained rate of fire.  Because of its weight (gun, tripod, water chest and ammo) this was frequently a regimental-level support weapon and on rare occasion crews were assigned a Jeep for ease of movement.

During my dad's war his crew made use of M2 ball, armor-piercing and tracer rounds to provide both offensive and defensive fire in support of infantry.  If he were alive, dad would tell you that when on the move his crew ditched the water chest, preferring to carry additional ammo.  Urine was always available to pee in the barrel.

National WWII Museum

This machine gun was gradually phased-out of service in the late 1960s - replaced by the lighter M60 machine gun chambered for the 7.62 mm NATO cartridge.

If you are interested you can read an account of my fathers story about Operation Cobra and the Breakout from the Bocage at Saint-Lô.  On the home page of the blog you can search under "Normandy" or "D-Day', etc. for similar accounts and references.

The museum in New Orleans has an extensive exhibit hall on the European Theater of Operations if that interests you.