The taking of Hill 192
By Robert R. Maynard
Bristol, Conn.
November 11, 2008
I am Robert R. "Duke" Maynard, a Connecticut native during World War II. I served in Company E, 9th Infantry Regiment, 2nd Infantry Division. My company commander was Capt. Edward P. Barrows, a native of Maine. He was a graduate of the University of Maine at Orono, Class of 1942. He was the son of the former governor of Maine, Lewis O. Barrows.
I recall Capt. Barrows as a very "big" man. To me, he was the personification of Paul Bunyan, the legendary woodsman. Whenever I saw him, I expected to see a huge blue ox walking beside him. He carried a carbine rifle as a combat weapon. His hands were so large and he was so big, that the weapon looked more like a pistol than a rifle in his hands. He had the demeanor of a trained woodsman which was probably attributed to having spent a great deal of time hunting in the Maine woods.
One day, Capt. Barrows called E Company together and told us that the company had been "selected" for a special mission along with the other 2nd Division troops.
Our company was to make a frontal assault up Hill 192 on the map of the area. Meanwhile, other 2nd Division troops would be attacking the flanks and the rear of the enemy positions on Hill 192. The captain told us we might have good news in the form of the participation of some tanks to support us and we would be able to follow the tanks up the hill and be protected from enemy small-arms and machine-gun fire. For some reason that I did not understand, he selected me and my partner, Joseph E. Driscoll, to be the lead scouts for the mission. He announced that the battle was set for the following day and that our squad would lead the attack.
We returned to our posts after the briefing but we had a lot to think about as we all pondered our fate that night.
On the appointed day, we appeared at the starting place at dawn when we realized that Hill 192 was at the center of a large forest called Cerisy la Forest. At the bottom of the hill near our starting point there was a small clearing. As you went up the hill, the forest became thicker and more dense.
When we got to the starting point, Capt. Barrows was there and sure enough, here come several tanks as promised. We were just getting ready to get behind the tanks to start up the hill when we were hit by an artillery barrage of screaming eighty-eights. It is impossible to describe an artillery barrage of screaming eighty-eights except that they SCREAM from the time they are fired until the time they explode. Closest description of an artillery barrage is the high point of a fireworks display when they let everything go for several moments until the final big bang at the end. An artillery barrage goes on forever, and the difference is instead of just making noise, it is raining death. The word came down "keep the hell away from the tanks because they are zeroing in on them." I don't know what happened to the tanks. I don't know if they were knocked out or withdrawn. The world came down "scouts out" so Joseph and I started up the hill. With the eighty-eights screaming at us, we started up the hill. We were half running and half crouched, firing our rifles the entire time.
In a short time, we faced a new problem. We were getting deeper into the woods and now the shells were hitting the heavier tree branches sending them into a frenzy of flying timber. Some of the shells were ricocheting off the branches and flying all over the place. So we were faced with airbursts of shells and shells that hit branches and didn't explode. The sounds were shattering and terrifying.
Later in the day, the enemy troops starting firing the eighty-eights down the hill point blank at us. This created a more chaotic condition, with shells hitting full-grown trees, and some exploding in the air, and some skittering off in every direction. At that point, six or seven of all of the shells fired failed to explode, making it a guessing game as to what was going to hit you. At one point, I reached out and touched a place where a shell had hit the ground and went skittering down the hill without exploding. Survival was based on pure luck.
By this time, we were crawling on our bellies searching for any crevice we could find to get our bodies some protection. At the same time, American artillery was sending their own shells against the enemy forces. Also at the same time, we were cursing out the stupid people who thought up this "brilliant" plan that was causing so many casualties.
We literally inched our way up the hill on our bellies all day through the artillery fire when suddenly everything stopped. We assumed that the other troops had succeeded in driving out the enemy forces. This was approximately mid- to late-afternoon. Capt. Barrows was there with us at the end. He complimented Joseph and me for how far we had come up the hill and led our company and said we would be "written up" for our actions. If we were indeed "written up," nothing ever came of it.
One thing about the military is, they order you to do things but they never tell you why you have to carry out their orders. My wife and I returned to the region 50 years later, during the 50th anniversary of D-Day. We went to the little town where the battle was fought. There were several monuments honoring the 2nd Infantry Division for its courage and bravery in liberating the people. I asked the mayor if he were familiar with Hill 192. He replied, "but of course." His clerk brought us on a tour of Hill 192. At the top, the Germans had built towers. From the towers, they could see the entire beachhead from Omaha Beach through Utah Beach. So much for the military saying, "always take the high ground." What did I know, I was just a 19-year-old soldier.
During the battles of the St. Lo Breakthrough, Capt. Barrows was wounded on July 30, 1944, and died on Aug. 5 from those wounds. That was three days after my partner, Joseph Driscoll, was killed and I was severely wounded on July 27, 1944. Capt. Barrows left a wife and 7-monnth-old son, Edward P. Barrows II, whom he never saw. Capt. Barrows is buried in his family plot in Newport, Maine. I have visited his grave and placed a wreath on it to pay him homage and my respect. This visit, sad as it was, gave some closure to my earlier days of fighting for our country.
Robert R Maynard past away shortly after on Dec 23 2008 his find a grave memorial is 32391729
Joseph E Driscoll find a grave memorial is 93033644
By Robert R. Maynard
Bristol, Conn.
November 11, 2008
I am Robert R. "Duke" Maynard, a Connecticut native during World War II. I served in Company E, 9th Infantry Regiment, 2nd Infantry Division. My company commander was Capt. Edward P. Barrows, a native of Maine. He was a graduate of the University of Maine at Orono, Class of 1942. He was the son of the former governor of Maine, Lewis O. Barrows.
I recall Capt. Barrows as a very "big" man. To me, he was the personification of Paul Bunyan, the legendary woodsman. Whenever I saw him, I expected to see a huge blue ox walking beside him. He carried a carbine rifle as a combat weapon. His hands were so large and he was so big, that the weapon looked more like a pistol than a rifle in his hands. He had the demeanor of a trained woodsman which was probably attributed to having spent a great deal of time hunting in the Maine woods.
One day, Capt. Barrows called E Company together and told us that the company had been "selected" for a special mission along with the other 2nd Division troops.
Our company was to make a frontal assault up Hill 192 on the map of the area. Meanwhile, other 2nd Division troops would be attacking the flanks and the rear of the enemy positions on Hill 192. The captain told us we might have good news in the form of the participation of some tanks to support us and we would be able to follow the tanks up the hill and be protected from enemy small-arms and machine-gun fire. For some reason that I did not understand, he selected me and my partner, Joseph E. Driscoll, to be the lead scouts for the mission. He announced that the battle was set for the following day and that our squad would lead the attack.
We returned to our posts after the briefing but we had a lot to think about as we all pondered our fate that night.
On the appointed day, we appeared at the starting place at dawn when we realized that Hill 192 was at the center of a large forest called Cerisy la Forest. At the bottom of the hill near our starting point there was a small clearing. As you went up the hill, the forest became thicker and more dense.
When we got to the starting point, Capt. Barrows was there and sure enough, here come several tanks as promised. We were just getting ready to get behind the tanks to start up the hill when we were hit by an artillery barrage of screaming eighty-eights. It is impossible to describe an artillery barrage of screaming eighty-eights except that they SCREAM from the time they are fired until the time they explode. Closest description of an artillery barrage is the high point of a fireworks display when they let everything go for several moments until the final big bang at the end. An artillery barrage goes on forever, and the difference is instead of just making noise, it is raining death. The word came down "keep the hell away from the tanks because they are zeroing in on them." I don't know what happened to the tanks. I don't know if they were knocked out or withdrawn. The world came down "scouts out" so Joseph and I started up the hill. With the eighty-eights screaming at us, we started up the hill. We were half running and half crouched, firing our rifles the entire time.
In a short time, we faced a new problem. We were getting deeper into the woods and now the shells were hitting the heavier tree branches sending them into a frenzy of flying timber. Some of the shells were ricocheting off the branches and flying all over the place. So we were faced with airbursts of shells and shells that hit branches and didn't explode. The sounds were shattering and terrifying.
Later in the day, the enemy troops starting firing the eighty-eights down the hill point blank at us. This created a more chaotic condition, with shells hitting full-grown trees, and some exploding in the air, and some skittering off in every direction. At that point, six or seven of all of the shells fired failed to explode, making it a guessing game as to what was going to hit you. At one point, I reached out and touched a place where a shell had hit the ground and went skittering down the hill without exploding. Survival was based on pure luck.
By this time, we were crawling on our bellies searching for any crevice we could find to get our bodies some protection. At the same time, American artillery was sending their own shells against the enemy forces. Also at the same time, we were cursing out the stupid people who thought up this "brilliant" plan that was causing so many casualties.
We literally inched our way up the hill on our bellies all day through the artillery fire when suddenly everything stopped. We assumed that the other troops had succeeded in driving out the enemy forces. This was approximately mid- to late-afternoon. Capt. Barrows was there with us at the end. He complimented Joseph and me for how far we had come up the hill and led our company and said we would be "written up" for our actions. If we were indeed "written up," nothing ever came of it.
One thing about the military is, they order you to do things but they never tell you why you have to carry out their orders. My wife and I returned to the region 50 years later, during the 50th anniversary of D-Day. We went to the little town where the battle was fought. There were several monuments honoring the 2nd Infantry Division for its courage and bravery in liberating the people. I asked the mayor if he were familiar with Hill 192. He replied, "but of course." His clerk brought us on a tour of Hill 192. At the top, the Germans had built towers. From the towers, they could see the entire beachhead from Omaha Beach through Utah Beach. So much for the military saying, "always take the high ground." What did I know, I was just a 19-year-old soldier.
During the battles of the St. Lo Breakthrough, Capt. Barrows was wounded on July 30, 1944, and died on Aug. 5 from those wounds. That was three days after my partner, Joseph Driscoll, was killed and I was severely wounded on July 27, 1944. Capt. Barrows left a wife and 7-monnth-old son, Edward P. Barrows II, whom he never saw. Capt. Barrows is buried in his family plot in Newport, Maine. I have visited his grave and placed a wreath on it to pay him homage and my respect. This visit, sad as it was, gave some closure to my earlier days of fighting for our country.
Robert R Maynard past away shortly after on Dec 23 2008 his find a grave memorial is 32391729
Joseph E Driscoll find a grave memorial is 93033644
The taking of Hill 192
By Robert R. Maynard
Bristol, Conn.
November 11, 2008
I am Robert R. "Duke" Maynard, a Connecticut native during World War II. I served in Company E, 9th Infantry Regiment, 2nd Infantry Division. My company commander was Capt. Edward P. Barrows, a native of Maine. He was a graduate of the University of Maine at Orono, Class of 1942. He was the son of the former governor of Maine, Lewis O. Barrows.
I recall Capt. Barrows as a very "big" man. To me, he was the personification of Paul Bunyan, the legendary woodsman. Whenever I saw him, I expected to see a huge blue ox walking beside him. He carried a carbine rifle as a combat weapon. His hands were so large and he was so big, that the weapon looked more like a pistol than a rifle in his hands. He had the demeanor of a trained woodsman which was probably attributed to having spent a great deal of time hunting in the Maine woods.
One day, Capt. Barrows called E Company together and told us that the company had been "selected" for a special mission along with the other 2nd Division troops.
Our company was to make a frontal assault up Hill 192 on the map of the area. Meanwhile, other 2nd Division troops would be attacking the flanks and the rear of the enemy positions on Hill 192. The captain told us we might have good news in the form of the participation of some tanks to support us and we would be able to follow the tanks up the hill and be protected from enemy small-arms and machine-gun fire. For some reason that I did not understand, he selected me and my partner, Joseph E. Driscoll, to be the lead scouts for the mission. He announced that the battle was set for the following day and that our squad would lead the attack.
We returned to our posts after the briefing but we had a lot to think about as we all pondered our fate that night.
On the appointed day, we appeared at the starting place at dawn when we realized that Hill 192 was at the center of a large forest called Cerisy la Forest. At the bottom of the hill near our starting point there was a small clearing. As you went up the hill, the forest became thicker and more dense.
When we got to the starting point, Capt. Barrows was there and sure enough, here come several tanks as promised. We were just getting ready to get behind the tanks to start up the hill when we were hit by an artillery barrage of screaming eighty-eights. It is impossible to describe an artillery barrage of screaming eighty-eights except that they SCREAM from the time they are fired until the time they explode. Closest description of an artillery barrage is the high point of a fireworks display when they let everything go for several moments until the final big bang at the end. An artillery barrage goes on forever, and the difference is instead of just making noise, it is raining death. The word came down "keep the hell away from the tanks because they are zeroing in on them." I don't know what happened to the tanks. I don't know if they were knocked out or withdrawn. The world came down "scouts out" so Joseph and I started up the hill. With the eighty-eights screaming at us, we started up the hill. We were half running and half crouched, firing our rifles the entire time.
In a short time, we faced a new problem. We were getting deeper into the woods and now the shells were hitting the heavier tree branches sending them into a frenzy of flying timber. Some of the shells were ricocheting off the branches and flying all over the place. So we were faced with airbursts of shells and shells that hit branches and didn't explode. The sounds were shattering and terrifying.
Later in the day, the enemy troops starting firing the eighty-eights down the hill point blank at us. This created a more chaotic condition, with shells hitting full-grown trees, and some exploding in the air, and some skittering off in every direction. At that point, six or seven of all of the shells fired failed to explode, making it a guessing game as to what was going to hit you. At one point, I reached out and touched a place where a shell had hit the ground and went skittering down the hill without exploding. Survival was based on pure luck.
By this time, we were crawling on our bellies searching for any crevice we could find to get our bodies some protection. At the same time, American artillery was sending their own shells against the enemy forces. Also at the same time, we were cursing out the stupid people who thought up this "brilliant" plan that was causing so many casualties.
We literally inched our way up the hill on our bellies all day through the artillery fire when suddenly everything stopped. We assumed that the other troops had succeeded in driving out the enemy forces. This was approximately mid- to late-afternoon. Capt. Barrows was there with us at the end. He complimented Joseph and me for how far we had come up the hill and led our company and said we would be "written up" for our actions. If we were indeed "written up," nothing ever came of it.
One thing about the military is, they order you to do things but they never tell you why you have to carry out their orders. My wife and I returned to the region 50 years later, during the 50th anniversary of D-Day. We went to the little town where the battle was fought. There were several monuments honoring the 2nd Infantry Division for its courage and bravery in liberating the people. I asked the mayor if he were familiar with Hill 192. He replied, "but of course." His clerk brought us on a tour of Hill 192. At the top, the Germans had built towers. From the towers, they could see the entire beachhead from Omaha Beach through Utah Beach. So much for the military saying, "always take the high ground." What did I know, I was just a 19-year-old soldier.
During the battles of the St. Lo Breakthrough, Capt. Barrows was wounded on July 30, 1944, and died on Aug. 5 from those wounds. That was three days after my partner, Joseph Driscoll, was killed and I was severely wounded on July 27, 1944. Capt. Barrows left a wife and 7-monnth-old son, Edward P. Barrows II, whom he never saw. Capt. Barrows is buried in his family plot in Newport, Maine. I have visited his grave and placed a wreath on it to pay him homage and my respect. This visit, sad as it was, gave some closure to my earlier days of fighting for our country.
Robert R Maynard past away shortly after on Dec 23 2008 his find a grave memorial is 32391729
Joseph E Driscoll find a grave memorial is 93033644
By Robert R. Maynard
Bristol, Conn.
November 11, 2008
I am Robert R. "Duke" Maynard, a Connecticut native during World War II. I served in Company E, 9th Infantry Regiment, 2nd Infantry Division. My company commander was Capt. Edward P. Barrows, a native of Maine. He was a graduate of the University of Maine at Orono, Class of 1942. He was the son of the former governor of Maine, Lewis O. Barrows.
I recall Capt. Barrows as a very "big" man. To me, he was the personification of Paul Bunyan, the legendary woodsman. Whenever I saw him, I expected to see a huge blue ox walking beside him. He carried a carbine rifle as a combat weapon. His hands were so large and he was so big, that the weapon looked more like a pistol than a rifle in his hands. He had the demeanor of a trained woodsman which was probably attributed to having spent a great deal of time hunting in the Maine woods.
One day, Capt. Barrows called E Company together and told us that the company had been "selected" for a special mission along with the other 2nd Division troops.
Our company was to make a frontal assault up Hill 192 on the map of the area. Meanwhile, other 2nd Division troops would be attacking the flanks and the rear of the enemy positions on Hill 192. The captain told us we might have good news in the form of the participation of some tanks to support us and we would be able to follow the tanks up the hill and be protected from enemy small-arms and machine-gun fire. For some reason that I did not understand, he selected me and my partner, Joseph E. Driscoll, to be the lead scouts for the mission. He announced that the battle was set for the following day and that our squad would lead the attack.
We returned to our posts after the briefing but we had a lot to think about as we all pondered our fate that night.
On the appointed day, we appeared at the starting place at dawn when we realized that Hill 192 was at the center of a large forest called Cerisy la Forest. At the bottom of the hill near our starting point there was a small clearing. As you went up the hill, the forest became thicker and more dense.
When we got to the starting point, Capt. Barrows was there and sure enough, here come several tanks as promised. We were just getting ready to get behind the tanks to start up the hill when we were hit by an artillery barrage of screaming eighty-eights. It is impossible to describe an artillery barrage of screaming eighty-eights except that they SCREAM from the time they are fired until the time they explode. Closest description of an artillery barrage is the high point of a fireworks display when they let everything go for several moments until the final big bang at the end. An artillery barrage goes on forever, and the difference is instead of just making noise, it is raining death. The word came down "keep the hell away from the tanks because they are zeroing in on them." I don't know what happened to the tanks. I don't know if they were knocked out or withdrawn. The world came down "scouts out" so Joseph and I started up the hill. With the eighty-eights screaming at us, we started up the hill. We were half running and half crouched, firing our rifles the entire time.
In a short time, we faced a new problem. We were getting deeper into the woods and now the shells were hitting the heavier tree branches sending them into a frenzy of flying timber. Some of the shells were ricocheting off the branches and flying all over the place. So we were faced with airbursts of shells and shells that hit branches and didn't explode. The sounds were shattering and terrifying.
Later in the day, the enemy troops starting firing the eighty-eights down the hill point blank at us. This created a more chaotic condition, with shells hitting full-grown trees, and some exploding in the air, and some skittering off in every direction. At that point, six or seven of all of the shells fired failed to explode, making it a guessing game as to what was going to hit you. At one point, I reached out and touched a place where a shell had hit the ground and went skittering down the hill without exploding. Survival was based on pure luck.
By this time, we were crawling on our bellies searching for any crevice we could find to get our bodies some protection. At the same time, American artillery was sending their own shells against the enemy forces. Also at the same time, we were cursing out the stupid people who thought up this "brilliant" plan that was causing so many casualties.
We literally inched our way up the hill on our bellies all day through the artillery fire when suddenly everything stopped. We assumed that the other troops had succeeded in driving out the enemy forces. This was approximately mid- to late-afternoon. Capt. Barrows was there with us at the end. He complimented Joseph and me for how far we had come up the hill and led our company and said we would be "written up" for our actions. If we were indeed "written up," nothing ever came of it.
One thing about the military is, they order you to do things but they never tell you why you have to carry out their orders. My wife and I returned to the region 50 years later, during the 50th anniversary of D-Day. We went to the little town where the battle was fought. There were several monuments honoring the 2nd Infantry Division for its courage and bravery in liberating the people. I asked the mayor if he were familiar with Hill 192. He replied, "but of course." His clerk brought us on a tour of Hill 192. At the top, the Germans had built towers. From the towers, they could see the entire beachhead from Omaha Beach through Utah Beach. So much for the military saying, "always take the high ground." What did I know, I was just a 19-year-old soldier.
During the battles of the St. Lo Breakthrough, Capt. Barrows was wounded on July 30, 1944, and died on Aug. 5 from those wounds. That was three days after my partner, Joseph Driscoll, was killed and I was severely wounded on July 27, 1944. Capt. Barrows left a wife and 7-monnth-old son, Edward P. Barrows II, whom he never saw. Capt. Barrows is buried in his family plot in Newport, Maine. I have visited his grave and placed a wreath on it to pay him homage and my respect. This visit, sad as it was, gave some closure to my earlier days of fighting for our country.
Robert R Maynard past away shortly after on Dec 23 2008 his find a grave memorial is 32391729
Joseph E Driscoll find a grave memorial is 93033644
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