The first element of the 10th Mountain Division to make the trip overseas to Europe was the 86th Mountain Infantry Regiment. The voyage was a seminal moment in the wartime service of the men in the unit, and several sources from Company L described the trip in great detail. Sgt. Bill Morrison described the morning of their departure.
At about 10:30 on December 10, 1944 L Company boarded a train at Camp Patrick Henry for the port of embarkation at Newport News in Virginia. A band was playing in true departure style as we struggled single file into our assigned coaches wearing overcoats, pistol belts with bayonets and canteens affixed, steel helmets, gas masks, parka, and rifles and lugging fully stuffed duffle bags marked with our code – 8550-J. On our steel helmets were two numbers – one the number of the car and the other the individual number in that car. This was a protection against anyone straying into the wrong car – the way we were herded around made this highly important. There was very little room for ourselves and our baggage. Fortunately the trip was very short.
Our spirits were high; singing, laughing and talking. For me it was a great adventure to be enjoyed. The train took us right out to the pier where they checked to see if everyone was present. We were given coffee by the Red Cross ladies and a band was playing quite cheerfully. Colonel Tomlinson came down the line shaking hands and joking with the men. He seemed happy and eager to get back into combat. He had been in the South Pacific theater previously.
A cold and heavy sea wind pushed waves across the grey surface of the James River estuary as the men of the 86th Mountain Infantry trudged up the gangplanks under the weight of their duffel bags. A soldier with a clipboard stood at the top to check their names off a list as they boarded the SS Argentina. Officers moved to their quarters unencumbered; their gear was put on the ship for them by enlisted men. As each man came aboard, he received a twenty percent pay raise for overseas duty.
The Argentina was built as the passenger liner Pennsylvania in 1929. She was 613 feet long, 80 feet wide, displaced 20,614 tons, and had a service speed of 17 knots. She was renamed Argentina in 1938 and made regular runs to South America until the United States entered the war. The Argentina was converted into a troop ship in 1942, and the austerity of the living conditions on board existed within the empty trim of what had been a very nice ship during peacetime.
SS Argentina fitted out for wartime service.
Once aboard, the men were ordered to get in their bunks and stay there until further notice. Pfc. Stuart Abbott remembered that, “We fit our quarters much as if we were melted and poured in. When we loaded with the bunks not yet down, there was just enough room to stand upright with our duffle bags.” The bunk beds were packed in columns several deep, and the high ceilings in some areas of the ship allowed the beds to be stacked ten to twelve bunks high. A man falling from the top bunk might fall twenty feet before hitting the floor.
As the engines churned to life, the vibration of the ship alerted the men that the journey had begun. As yet, they had no idea of their destination. Pfc. Horton Durfee, who had paused at the PX long enough to purchase a book to read and a case of chocolate bars, recalled his first hours aboard ship.
Back down in the hold, I hoisted myself into my bunk, took out my new book and the box of Hershey bars, and started to read and munch. Quite a while later, I finished the 24th and final bar and began to wonder if I hadn’t been a little imprudent, especially as the ship began to roll in response to some gentle swells. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more uneasy my stomach became. I decided to go back up on deck for some fresh air. I also decided I would skip lunch. I survived, but to this day I have never cared much for milk chocolate candy.
The men were informed that they would receive two meals a day throughout the voyage. As evening approached, the ship’s loudspeakers crackled with the request that they “muster in the galley for the evening meal.” This became the pattern for the rest of the voyage. Meals were served cafeteria-style into the men’s mess-kits, and there were tall, narrow tables where they ate standing up. The officers had a separate galley, where they ate seated at tables.
The ventilation was poor below decks, and the holds rapidly filled with cigarette smoke so thick that some men vomited. The temperature rose until the heat became thoroughly uncomfortable. Although it was too hot to sleep in the holds, no one was allowed on deck at night. It was feared that men lighting cigarettes on deck might make the ship more visible to German U-boats, although by this stage of the war, the “U-boat menace” was largely a thing of the past. Only cold seawater was available for showering and shaving, and the men discovered that soap didn’t lather in salt-water no matter how vigorously one scrubbed. Showers became nothing more than quick rinses.
Despite the unpleasantness of their circumstances, there were plenty of distractions to keep the men occupied. Movies were shown on deck. There were boxing bouts on the aft promenade. The ship had a store where the troops could purchase a variety of items at extremely high prices, including cigarettes for five dollars a pack. The ships radio station, WARG, broadcast music, news and variety shows between 1200 and 2000 hours each day. In the evening, the regimental band played concerts on deck, and at night there were USO shows for packed houses in the troop mess. Some decks of the liner were spacious enough for close-order drill and lectures.
The men spent most of the voyage reading and playing poker in the holds, or standing at the rails, watching the deep blue waves of the Atlantic. They could see other ships in the convoy, widely dispersed. On several occasions, large gas-filled balloons were released from one or another of the vessels, and the ship’s gunnery crews shot them down for practice. As they passed through the gulf stream, the air became temperate and many men laid in the sunshine on the decks. There was a lifeboat drill one night, and everyone had to put on life-jackets and run around the ship to evacuation stations.
Well out to sea, the troops were informed that their destination was Italy, where they would join the US 5th Army in the northern Apennine Mountains. Some of the men cheered at the news, but the excitement quickly subsided into the routine and general discomfort of life on a troop ship.
Although no letters could be mailed until the Argentina docked, many pencils were brought to paper, carefully avoiding subjects prohibited by censorship. Capt. Everett Bailey’s pencil was among them.
Dearest Lovely,
We are at sea now, very comfortable, and headed – well we’ll talk about it in PW [postwar] discussions a few months or more from now.
Of course I don’t know when or where this will reach you. I tried to reach you on the phone a while back, but the only place I could reach was Burlington. Mother told me you were in Florida. It was disappointing not to be able to reach you, but I guess we slipped up on prior planning. Wherever you are, I hope you are happy and having a good time.
This trip should be interesting if only for one thing. We have been conjecturing ever since a year ago and more in Denver where we (I like to think that you are with me too) would go next. A few days or weeks should settle that question now. I hope the situation will be so I can write and tell you where I am, but even if you read in the papers about the outfit, don’t be surprised if I can’t tell you anything in my letters.
I am now trying to figure a way to waterproof your pictures. I think a little doctoring job with scotch tape will do the trick. I like to see you just coming out of the water, with water in your eyelashes and your hair all slick like a seal’s, but I don’t think the effect would be the same if your picture was doused.
The ship has a phonograph, and one of the records is La Golondrina. When we take our weeks’ vacation after it is over you will have to sing it to me again and again. Just the two of us together, and you singing. How you used to make my heart ache on those drives to and from the Underhill CCC camp singing La Golondrina, Danny Boy and La Paloma. When I hear that music or hum it to myself it is almost as if you were sitting beside of me. I love you so my dearest. If only I could talk to you occasionally. Too bad we didn’t study mental telepathy.
The church fever hasn’t hit the outfit yet, but it won’t be too long. I go to church when I can. It is nice and relaxing to talk with God about things; about you and David. Goodnight my dearest Lovely.
Ev
Pfc. Stuart Abbott wrote home,
Beautiful sunny day. Nothing to do but sleep, read, play cards or daydream. That would be the life of Riley if we had more space to enjoy it. Only work we do besides cleaning our quarters and abandon ship drill are 15 min calisthenics each morning and guard 2 hrs on 6 hrs off every other day.
Several days out, the convoy ran into a storm. For two days, the Argentina plowed through twenty-foot waves capped with white foam, and the wind whipped the sea up into a fine salt spray. The men sheltered below decks and suffered all of the agonies seasickness offered. They vomited by the hundreds. Men on low bunks had to beware lest vomit from those on the bunks above rain down on them. The poor ventilation in the holds held the stench in the living quarters. Most of the men ate very little. Pfc. Bob Krear remembered it as, “probably the sickest days of my life.”
As a former gymnast with a finely-tuned sense of balance I seemed to be particularly susceptible to seasickness…I had a reputation of being one of the strongest men in the company, and it soon afforded great amusement for those with stronger stomachs to see me hanging weakly over a rail, violently expelling what I was certain were the last of my life’s fluids!
As the seas calmed, the troops went up on deck and the holds were cleaned out. The routine of convoy travel resumed. Captain Bailey wrote;
Water, water everywhere. Yesterday we ran into a little rough weather which is continuing today. Nearly everyone is well today but yesterday and last night as officer of the day it was rough getting men to stand guard between upheavals. There are a number of young ladies aboard from USO shows, WAACs, nurses, and Red Cross. The single officers are a pretty attentive lot. Some of the married officers look as if they might like to be attentive, but generally speaking the trip is still on a pretty respectable basis. Please don’t let any of those stories you have heard or probably will have heard, worry you, concerning married officers’ love lives overseas.
For Christmas Eve, Jack [Major John Hay, commander of 3rd Battalion, 86th] has planned a party for his staff and company COs. The tentative plan is to have the last of our present liquor supply present, and various nurses and USO girls have been contacted to provide a feminine touch. I am afraid you have too heavy a hold on my heart strings, darling. I even experienced a touch of relief that none of the gals were placed at my table in the dining room. Forgive me for being a perfectionist lovely, but even though I know you like to receive Christmas presents it hardly seems that a tube of shaving cream or a toothbrush would be an appropriate gift.
On December 21, the eleventh day at sea, the convoy approached the Mediterranean. The sky was clear and the sea was calm as the Argentina sailed through the strait, and most of the soldiers went on deck to get a look at the Rock of Gibraltar. It was the first land they had seen since Newport News, and many recalled it as a welcome sight. In contrast with the Atlantic, the Mediterranean offered smooth sailing for the remainder of the voyage.
During the afternoon of December 23, they sailed past the Island of Capri and into the Bay of Naples. The Argentina anchored in the bay, and the men were told that they would disembark in the morning. The ship had brought all the ingredients necessary to prepare a Christmas dinner for the troops if they should be at sea when the holidays came. The cooks made the Christmas dinner early, and so the men ate turkey and trimmings off the Italian coast. The regimental band played their last evening deck concert in the shadow of Mount Vesuvius.
Capt. Bailey sat down that evening to write one last homesick letter from the Argentina;
Dearest Lovely,
The spirit of Christmas is evident even here on board ship. Many Christmas Carols, memories of where people were last year at this time, and limited quantities of Christmas cheer are contributing factors.
It is a beautiful moonlit night, and I have just returned from the great outdoors refreshed by the sea breeze and filled with beautiful memories and love for you. Everyone has high morale, and if it wasn’t for that ever deep longing for your physical presence and wondering where you are, what you are doing, are you in good health, are you in trouble; life would be nothing but a carefree superficial existence for me. The wonderful thing about being married to such a wonderful person as you is the hope I always have for our future together.Gosh but it is lonely at night without you. Perhaps when we leave the ship and sheets it will wear off.How I wish we could be together tonight my darling, just the two of us hand in hand underneath the stars walking along a quiet road breathing the clean cold air of Vermont.
Before I forget – If anything serious happens, you can contact me simply by going through any Red Cross Chapter, I can reply through the same channels.
Goodnight my dearest lovely,
Ev
The following morning, December 24, the Argentina picked her way through sunken hulks to Naples harbor, and the 86th Mountain Infantry was landed. Here is the story of their landing, and of their first hours in a war-torn country.
This blog is part of a larger body of research culminating in the publication of the book ‘Heroes in Good Company: L Company, 86th Regiment, 10th Mountain Division 1943-1945’ which is available in select bookstores and on amazon.
Sources:
Abbott, Stuart E. Letters to Family, 1944-1945. Stuart E. Abbott Papers, TMD50, 10th Mountain Division Collection, The Denver Public Library.
Bailey, Everett C. Letters to Doris Bailey, 1942-1945. Bailey Papers. Author’s collection.
Brower, David. “Insights Sought in Slumber”. Midnight Insights – The Lessons of War, Insight of the Archdruid. Berkley, California: January 5, 2000.
_____. Remount Blue: The Combat Story of the Third Battalion, 86th Mountain Infantry, 10th Mountain Division. Unpublished Manuscript, c. 1948. Digitized version edited and made available through the Denver Public Library by Barbara Imbrie, 2005.
Carlson, Bob. A History of L Company, 86th Mountain Infantry. Self-published Manuscript, 2000.
Durfee, Horton K. World War II Memoirs of Horton K Durfee 1943-1946. Self-published, 1998.
Krear, H. Robert. The Journal of a US Army Mountain Trooper in World War II. Estes Park, CO: Desktop Publishing by Jan Bishop, 1993.
Moore-McCormack.com. SS Argentina. Accessed September 29, 2013. http://moore-mccormack.com/SS-Argentina-1938/SS-Argentina-1938-War-1.htm.
Morrison, William. 2003. Interview by Abbie Kealy. Interview C MSS OH 295, 10th Mountain Division Collection, Oral Histories, Denver Public Library, Denver, CO.
_____. Letters to author. 2015.
Wellborn, Charles. History of the 86th Mountain Infantry Regiment in Italy. Edited by Barbara Imbrie in 2004. Denver, CO: Bradford-Robinson Printing Co.,1945.
