insearchofbud

Chapter two

            I felt like I had gone backward in time as I searched for Carl R. Bonde Jr.’s name on the Internet.  I had done this every month or so with no success once the Internet became available.  I had hope and, finally, a plan for systematically searching for Bud.

            My scheme was to find the name of any US ship that sank on Christmas 1944 and then follow any leads.  I found a website that listed ships lost in WW II along with date lost and disposition.  I got perhaps 30 pages with 40 ships per page.  I looked and looked for several hours.  Most of the ships were small, more like boats.

Then on a hunch I typed Uncle Bud’s name in the search engine box and lo!  A History Channel website came up that featured the SS Leopoldville.  My first reaction was disappointment!  Then I felt skepticism.  This was simply too easy.  I was convinced when I found Bud’s name among those lost.

I ordered the History Channel videotape that featured the Leopoldville for $49.95 and then returned to the HC website and followed a link to a sort of blog that had been dormant for many months in which callous strangers questioned why anyone would care about a ship that was sunk 60 years ago.  They wrote really ugly words and cynical, but at least they agreed that a ship sunk in 1944 had no relevance to them.  Of course I felt hurt.  For a while I thought my search had come to an end.  Unkind people wrote that the SS Leopoldville no longer mattered.  I felt discouraged.

            I was too late.  The research had been done, the ceremonies to remember the soldiers had already been held.  I saw photographs of soldiers attending reunions.

I couldn’t leave it alone, though.  I didn’t know Bud’s fate.  Had he drowned?  Were any of his Army buddies still living?

            I found other various websites where I searched for Bud, his Army outfit, or his ship and I printed reams.  I ordered a book called The Leopoldville Trilogy, a collection of first hand accounts compiled by Ray Roberts, a WW II veteran who had not been anywhere near the ship when it sank.  I ordered a set for each of my cousins too, and my sister.  Also History Channel tapes to go around.

            My hopes were up.  I wanted to read the stories of survivors.  I was hoping to read some from guys who knew Buddy, or perhaps had been close by.  I made charts.  I kept lists of who was where.  Parts of two regiments of the 66^th Army Panther Division had been on the ship:  the 262^nd and 264^th.  Each had numerous companies.  These had squads and sections.  The sections had soldiers.

            The books and video, I soon found, were collections of survivor stories, in no particular sequence.  Often the stories conflicted or seemed incredible.  The ship had been sunk about 60 years previously.  None of the books I bought contained Carl R. Bonde, Jr.’s name, although the trilogy book had an image of a monument with his name.  Now that I knew where to look I can almost make it out.

            I don’t remember which website, or when I saw it, but I recall that someone posted Carl’s name with a note that nobody in his family had been located and would someone try?  I felt like my grandma.  I could envision my grandma stepping forward to claim her son, to represent his interests before an audience.

            A few times when I found promising email addresses, I wrote.  I got replies from other relatives of the lost who inquired about their soldier and then wished me well in my search. 

In 2005 most of the active work on the story of the SS Leopoldville seemed to have already been done years before.  The books had been written, the films made, the blogs had gone up, comments posted, years had gone by.  Seems the most recent blog entries were always 2-3 years old.

            I emailed Allan Andrade who had a web page devoted to the SS Leopoldville.  I had about lost hope of finding anyone who still cared, or who could answer my questions.  Andrade’s website had an invitation to write to him.  I told him about my Uncle and me.  He answered quite soon.  He said he would make some calls to see if he could get permission to help me reach some survivors.  A day or so later I got another email.

            Andrade wrote, “Call Bill Moomey in Kearney, Nebraska.  He remembers your uncle.”  I remember feeling glad I was alone in the house, because I yelled!  I would like to say I screamed, but I only hollered.  I half dreaded calling for some reason, but I was unable to wait.

I phoned Bill as quick as that.  His wife Doris answered and she called him to the phone.  His voice sounded like that of an old farmer, mild and kindly.  He told me he had hoped most of his life for the chance to speak with someone from Carl Bonde’s family. 

Yes, he remembered Carl quite well because they trained together in a machine gun section for the better part of a year in Alabama before being shipped to England, then to France aboard the Leopoldville.  We talked on and on.  Bill Chuckled.  He particularly remembered that Carl would answer the question, “Where are you from?” with a long flowery recitation that sounded like it had been written by the chamber of commerce.

Since then I have looked up the Kalispell, Montana, chamber of commerce to find one of their descriptions of the Flathead Valley where Carl was born and raised.  It is actually very beautiful, verdant, fertile, and like the Garden of Eden.  Carl spent his summers in a lookout tower watching for fires over Glacier Park on Huckleberry Mountain, situated near the North Fork of the Flathead River.  This interest may have influenced him to choose forestry for his major subject when he attended the University of Montana in Missoula in 1942. 

We know that Carl did not stay long in Missoula.  In less than two years he was back in Kalispell, volunteering for the draft.  Importantly, during WW II one could not enlist in the Navy if one wanted to avoid becoming a soldier.  Instead, one would volunteer for the draft.  Then a kid would get a letter that started, “Greetings….”  and would finish with directions to report to Butte to the Armed Forces Entrance Examination Stations (AFEES).  I learned this from a WWII veteran in Billings when I attended an event at my Nieceling’s (Kathleen Elizabeth Angel’s) school a couple of years ago for Veteran’s Day.

Daniel R. Struckman

215 Burlington Avenue

Billings, MT 59101

August 14, 2011

The Honorable Max Baucus

United States Senate

Washington DC 20510

Dear Senator Baucus,

            Please help me obtain the complete US Army Personnel File for my maternal Uncle, PFC Carl Ralph Bonde, Jr, service number 39616683, killed in action December 24, 1944.  My request to obtain the entire document from the National Personnel Records Center in Saint Louis, MO, was denied because they say I am not his next-of-kin.

            However, I am his sole surviving next of kin and I am entitled to this document.  Carl Ralph Bonde Jr. never married and had no children.  All in his immediate family have died after him.  His father died in 1958 and his mother died in 1967.  He had only 4 sisters and no brothers.  All 4 of his sisters have died, including my mother, who died in 1976. 

            My uncle Carl was killed aboard the troopship SS Leopoldville Christmas eve, 1944, when a U-boat torpedoed his ship.  The Army classified the incident secret for many years.  My grandparents and aunts were never told any details of the fate of their 21-year-old soldier, whose body was never recovered.  I find it ironic that the Army bureaucracy continues to block access to information about the SS Leopoldville even 70 years later by frustrating my attempts to recover my beloved uncle’s personnel file.

            I am writing a book about my uncle, and I have been working 5 years.  I went to his Army reunion in Florida, met with his section leader in Nebraska twice, and even traveled to France where I hired a boat to take my wife and me out on the English Channel near Cherbourg to place a wreath on the water over the wreckage of the SS Leopoldville.  Unfortunately, I have very little information about Uncle Carl, other than his high school yearbook and several photographs.  I did meet two elderly veterans, survivors of the sinking, who remembered him.

            Here is what I did to try to recover the file:  In the Spring of 2010 I mailed a form asking for the file.  I checked the priority box “routine.”  in October I got a reply:  this was a letter with my request number 1-7521726574 and a form advising me to send $20 to cover the cost of photocopying and mailing the records.  I did as instructed.  Then, one 3 weeks later,  I received the one page form that told his date of enlistment and the date of his death and his next of kin, along with a letter inviting questions.  I am enclosing copies of the letters and the one page.  Of course I did have questions!  I wondered why I had not gotten the military record I paid for!

            I phoned the number on the more recent letter and spoke to a young lady in St Louis who told me flatly that I might not view my Uncle’s record.  I asked if I might appeal her decision and she told me no.  She told me I could reapply for the record, but the result would be the same.

            Please, Senator Baucus, help me obtain my Uncle’s file.  I am enclosing 2 copies of the Privacy Act Release and the supporting documentation for my efforts so far.

Sincerely yours,

Daniel Robert Struckman

I searched the internet frequently in 2005 until I found Allan Andrade, author of several books about the SS Leopoldville.  We exchanged email and a few telephone calls.

(Note that I use my spouse’s email account):

—– Original Message —–

From: PENNY STRUCKMAN

To: agandrade37@msn.com

Sent: Thursday, November 10, 2005 3:10 PM

Subject: SS LEOPOLDVILLE

Sir,

My uncle, PFC Carl Ralph Bonde Jr., Co E, 262nd Inf Regiment, was probably

killed instantly by the torpedo, I am told.  Bonde was the only boy in my

mother’s family, so I heard much about him while growing up, and I played

with his belongings at my grand parents.  He died 5 years before I was born,

but I feel close to him anyhow.

I want to visit the site of the SS Leopoldville sinking near Cherborg and

deliver to my uncle’s body some soil from his Kalispell, Montana, home.  I

got permission to collect the dirt from a 10-year-old boy who must have

thought I was crazy, especially when I started to cry while trying to

explain.

If I can find anyone willing, I would really like to meet and speak with or

write to a survivor from the Leopoldville sinking.

Thanks for lifting up these people.  It was war, after all, and we know what

happens!  However, I don’t want any one from the Leopoldville to be

forgotten!

Sincerely,

Dan Struckman

215 Burlington Ave

Billings, MT 59101   406-256-3588

From:

Allan Andrade (agandrade37@msn.com)

Sent:

Thu 11/10/05 5:22 PM

To:

PENNY STRUCKMAN (pstruckman@hotmail.com)

Hi,

Your uncle, Pfc. Carl R. Bonde Jr., serial #39616683, was assigned to Co. E, Weapons platoon, 262nd Regiment, 66th Infantry Division. There were 10 survivors from his platoon of which 3 were hospitalized. No bodies from Weapons platoon were recovered. Your uncle’s body was among the 23 from his platoon never found. They were quartered near where the torpedo struck the ship. Stats are from my copy of National archive official army Leopoldville casualty list prepared on 12/29/1944.

I have been in touch with most of the survivors from his platoon. Unfortunately, a number of them have passed away including the 2 Lieutenants from his platoon who I were in contact with. I will need some time to phone the numbers I have for the others to see if my numbers are still correct & they are alive.  

I will also need time to check the boat charter I knew in England that takes charters to the wreck site.

There is a Leopoldville Memorial Association (LMA). They will have a reunion of survivors & relatives of soldiers killed at the Holiday Inn in Harrisburg, PA from 10/12-10/15/2006. You & your family would be welcomed to attend. I am the LMA’s historian.

Have you visited my web site? http://www.msnusers.com/ssleopoldville I would welcome a photo of your uncle, if available, which I will post on the site In Memoriam page. Also any info about him you can provide for my research files.

If interested, I have just published a picture book about the disaster.  You can view the cover & selected pages from the galley proofs on my “pictures page”.

In Meantime, suggest you contact the following survivors who I know will be happy to speak with you.

Jack C. Randles, Fallston, MD #410-879-8403

Vincent Codianni Waterbury, CT #203-754-5360

Walter T. Brown Lynn, MA #781-593-0627  (Sgt. Brown was assigned to Co. F, 262 Regiment which was quartered where the torpedo struck the ship. Of 175 men assigned to Co. F, Walter was one of only 19 survivors.)

Please e-mail me again.

Allan Andrade

Leopoldville Disaster Author/Historian

—– Original Message —–

From: PENNY STRUCKMAN

To: agandrade37@msn.com

Sent: Friday, November 11, 2005 12:55 PM

Subject: Re: SS LEOPOLDVILLE

Mr. Andrade,

I will always be grateful to you.  I phoned Mr. Bill Moomey immediately and

had a good talk with him.  Happy Veteran’s day.  Of coincidence, I am on my

way to the funeral of a soldier who served on the honor guard which

dedicated the cemetery in France with the Wall of the Missing.  I hope to

participate in some get togethers with the survivors and family of the 66th

Division.

I will contact the 4 other boys and 1 neice of Carl R. Bonde and I know they

will be greatly pleased.

Sincerely,

Daniel Struckman, nephew of Carl Ralph Bonde Jr.

Hi,

Glad I could help.

Suggest you contact Jane Ferentzi-Sheppard in England who lives near former base where 66th Division stayed while stationed there. Recently 800 trees were planted on the site as a living memorial to the soldiers of the 66th who were killed. When you make your trip to Europe to scatter the dirt from your uncle’s home ground on the waters over the wreck site, I know she would be a great resource in planning your trip & meeting with you during your stay in England.

Also suggest you contact Bertrand Sciboz who is a French research diver who has dived the Leopoldville wreck.  I know he would want to meet you & could help you in getting a charter boat to take you to the wreck site.

Allan Andrade

Type VIIC German U-boat, such U-486, which sank the SS Leopoldville.

The Type VIIC was the workhorse of the German U-boat force, with 568 commissioned from 1940 to 1945.[73] The first VIIC boat commissioned was the U-69 in 1940. The Type VIIC was an effective fighting machine and was seen almost everywhere U-boats operated, although its range of only 6,500 nautical miles was not as great as that of the larger Type IX(11,000 nautical miles), severely limiting the time it could spend in the far reaches of the western and southern Atlantic without refueling from a tender or U-boat tanker.[73] The VIIC came into service toward the end of the first “Happy Time”[Note 6] near the beginning of the war and was still the most numerous type in service when Allied anti-submarine efforts finally defeated the U-boat campaign in late 1943 and 1944.[73]

Type VIIC differed from the VIIB only in the addition of an active sonar and a few minor mechanical improvements, making it 2 feet longer and 8 tons heavier. Speed and range were essentially the same. Many of these boats were fitted with snorkels in 1944 and 1945.[73]

They had the same torpedo tube arrangement as their predecessors, except for U-72, U-78, U-80, U-554, and U-555, which had only two bow tubes, and for U-203, U-331, U-351, U-401, U-431, and U-651, which had no stern tube.[73]

On the surface the boats (except for U-88, U-90 and U-132 to U-136 which used MAN M6V40/46s) were propelled by two supercharged Germaniawerft, 6 cylinder, 4-stroke M6V 40/46 diesels totaling 2,800 to 3,200 hp (2,100 to 2,400 kW) at 470 to 490 rpm.[73]

For submerged propulsion, several different electric motors were used. Early models used the VIIB configuration of two AEG GU 460/8-276 electric motors, totaling 750 hp (560 kW) with a max rpm of 296, while newer boats used two BBC (Brown Boveri & Co) GG UB 720/8, two GL (Garbe Lahmeyer) RP 137/c electric motors or two SSW (Siemens-Schuckert-Werke) GU 343/38-8 electric motors with the same power output as the AEG motors.[73]

Perhaps the most famous VIIC boat was U-96, featured in the movie Das Boot.[73]

[edit]

Torpedoes

The U-boats’ main weapon was the torpedo, though mines and deck guns (while surfaced) were also used. By the end of the war, almost 3,000 Allied ships (175 warships; 2,825 merchant ships) were sunk by U-boat torpedoes.[13] Early German World War II torpedoes were straight runners, as opposed to the homing and pattern-running torpedoes which were fielded later in the war. They were fitted with one of two types of pistol trigger: impact, which detonated the warhead upon contact with a solid object, and magnetic, which detonated upon sensing a change in the magnetic field within a few meters. One of the most effective uses of magnetic pistols would be to set the torpedo’s depth to just beneath the keel of the target. The explosion under the target’s keel would create a shock wave, and the ship could break in two. In this way, even large or heavily-armored ships could be sunk or disabled with a single well-placed hit. In practice, however, the depth-keeping equipment and magnetic and contact exploders were notoriously unreliable in the first eight months of the war. Torpedoes would often run at an improper depth, detonate prematurely, or fail to explode altogether—sometimes bouncing harmlessly off the hull of the target ship. This was most evident in Operation Weserübung, the invasion of Norway, where various skilled U-boat commanders failed to inflict damage on British transports and warships because of faulty torpedoes. The faults were largely due to a lack of testing. The magnetic detonator was sensitive to mechanical oscillations during the torpedo run and at high latitudes fluctuations in the Earth’s magnetic field. These were eventually phased out, and the depth-keeping problem was solved by early 1942.[14]

Later in the war, Germany developed an acoustic homing torpedo, the G7/T5. It was primarily designed to combat convoy escorts. The acoustic torpedo was designed to run straight to an arming distance of 400 meters and then turn toward the loudest noise detected. This sometimes ended up being the U-boat itself; their own homing torpedoes may have sunk at least two submarines. (Problems with steering mechanisms on normal torpedoes made them occasionally lethal to the firing boat as well). Additionally, it was found these torpedoes were only effective against ships moving at greater than 15 knots (28 km/h). At any rate, the Allies countered acoustic torpedoes with noisemaker decoys such as Foxer, FXR, CAT and Fanfare. The Germans, in-turn, countered this by introducing newer and upgraded versions of the acoustic torpedoes, like the late war G7es.

U-boats also adopted several types of “pattern-running” torpedoes which ran to a preset distance, then travelled in either a circular or ladder-like pattern. When fired at a convoy, this increased the probability of a hit if the weapon missed its primary target.

[edit]

Letter from Bill Loughborough to his wife.  [I received this in the mail from Carl Bonde’s buddy Bill Moomey in 2006.  I transcribed it verbatim.]

Finished June 25, 1945

My Darling Jean,

            I know you are curious about my eventful trip from England to France.  My folks have also asked me to describe it.  Walrath wrote about it as soon as censorship was lifted, and his mother called mine to relate the little bit Don had known about it.  When censorship was discontinued, we were asked not to write about troop movements until 6 months afterwards.  That is the reason I have not talked of it.  To save my writing two letters on the subject, will you please send this on to my folks, Honey?

            I went to London on the morning of the 21^st of December [1944].  Jack Yarbrough, Chuck Gere, Bob Rogers, Bill Moomey, Tony Lemos, Carl Bondy [sic], Dick Vester, and Jim Grunewald were in the same pass group with me.  We left the London railroad station about midnight of the 22^nd and arrived at our camp in Dorchester about 5 A.M. on the 23^rd.  After an hour’s sleep, we were awakened along with the rest of the camp and told to pack.  All day Saturday the 23^rd we worked frantically to get the supply room, kitchen, and orderly room packed and ready to move.  There was the usual arguing on rather this proposed move was to be a “dry run” or the “real McCoy”.  We were to be ready to leave by 5 P.M. Because of this short notice, we were almost sure this was just a practice move.  We were “good to go” at about 4 P.M. so I went over to see Bill Klostermann, whose barracks was just a few yards away from mine.

            Bill was not his usual self that day and seemed to be in very low spirits.  I don’t know what was bothering him and whether or not he was worried about going to France.  There was a crap game in progress in one corner of the barracks and a bull-session in another.  I thought it strange that Bill was not in either of these.  I believe he was just plain homesick that day.  He read me his latest letter from home in which his mother told of the nice gift you had sent her and of how much they liked you.  I left him to go eat.

            We finally left for the railroad station at about 9 P.M.  One group had left approximately two hours earlier; and, when they didn’t return, we figured this must really be it.  We carried everything we owned for the mile and a half to the station.  I had a pack-board, with blankets, shelter-half, pack, etc. attached, on my back.  My carbine was slung on my shoulder, my gas-mask drooped from the other shoulder, my steel helmit pushed my head down into my collar, and my over-crowded dufflel-bag was carried first in my arms, then over one shoulder, then over the other, then on top of my pack and resting on my neck, and finally dragged along the pavement.  My rather weak right leg gave out on me about a quarter of the way and I took a tumble.  From then on I went along at my own speed and fell further and further back.  The entire regiment started out in regular formation, but was really strung out before we reached the station.  Bill Bailey of the 3^rd platoon joined me in the rear and we helped each other with our bags.  We sat down on them about every 100 yeards [sic].  Of course this was all done in the dark and thru the blacked-out town of Dorchester.  By the time we reached the train we were all very bitter because trucks could have just as well carried us.

            Eight men with all their equipment were squeezed into each compartment on the train.  In spite of this sardine-like living, almost all of us slept during the two hour ride.

            It was about 1 A.M. when we dismounted at the Southampton Station.  Here we loaded our duffle-bags on trucks and then marched across town to the docks.  We didn’t see muck of this great port because it was in total blackness, and we were on the low road by the docks:  Most of the city is on high ground.  The docks were really buzzing with activity even at such an un-Godly hour.

            At about the last dock we finally did a column right and passed by the gate of a brilliantly lighted pier.  Two grey hulks loomed up at their waiting positions.  We were marched into the large frame building on the pier for doughnuts and coffee from the Red Cross.  They had two clubmobiles set up and American Girls to hand out the stuff to the long lines of G.I.s.  The bunch who had left Dorchester before us had already had their refreshments and were beginning to load on one of the ships.  After standing around kidding for about an hour, we marched on to the other ship.  As we left the dock we picked up anyone’s duffle-bag, that is, in our own company group.  We carried these up the gang plank, along the deck a ways, and then down a narrow, steep stairway to our compartment in the hold of the ship.  We were on E dick, which is well below the water level.  We dumped the bags in the middle of the floor, and the first men down grabbed the hammocks and began tying them up to hooks on the ceiling.  The next ones down laid claim to table tops and benches as their “beds”.  This compartment evidently was the ship’s mess hall.  Being in the 3^rd mortar squad in the 4^th platoon, I was always #186 in a company of 187 men on these troop movements.  Consequently, when I got below, the only place to establish a “bed” was on the floor beneath a table.  Bob Rogers was next to me under the table, and Len Benda was on top of the same table.  Dick, “Nick”, Matthews, Jack Yarbrough, and Everett, “Mac”, MacDaniel were hanging in hammocks above the table. 

            The remainder of our 4^th platoon, the entire 3^rd plat., part of “F” company, part of “H” company and a small portion of battalion hdqt. company were in this same compartment.  We were crowded beyond description.

The rest of our compnay [sic], company hdqt., 1^st plat., and 2^nd plat., were on the other ship.  The remainders of the other companies mentioned above were in other parts of our ship.  Some of Klostermann’s “F” company were directly below us in the bottom deck.  Bill, himself, was in the same compartment I was.

When we got “settled”, it was after 4A.M., so we all fell asleep in spite of our surroundings.  Breakfast was at about 8:30, but I slept right thru until our next meal which came at 3:30 Sunday afternoon.

These meals are the worst I have ever tasted.  One big pot of “slop” was passed out to each group of about ten.  The individual then ate off of a very dirty plate that was washed by just dipping it in water.

You see, this was not an American manned ship.  It was a British controlled Belgian ship, the “Leopoldville”.  A large part of her crew were Belgian Congo negroes.

The Channel was extremely rough this Sunday afternoon; and that combined with the lousy food made most of the boys sick.  Right after “dinner” Hank Anderson, Jack Yarbrough, George Miller, and Dick Matthews headed for the fresh air of the upper decks.  They asked me if I wanted to go up with them.  I was all slept out by this time and was collecting my stuff which had been pretty well kicked about in the shuffle, so I told them I would meet them on deck in a few minutes.  In the meantime I found my duffle bag in the pile and discovered it had a big hole in the bottom of it from the dragging it suffered the previous night.  It also had a “fetching” aroma.  A medicine bottle of American whiskey which I had carried from the States to have on Christmas Day had broken on Christmas Eve!

When I left to join the boys on deck, the rest of the gang were either asleep or lying in hammocks looking very green.  I stood on Starboard and talked with the boys for about an hour, after which I went up to the bow to stand in the wind.  Ole Jensen came along in a little while, and we sat on a hatch on C deck at the head of the stairs leading down to D deck, the last open deck.  Bill Klostermann and two of his “F” Co. buddies came up the steps about 5:30, stopped and talked a minute, and then moved aft on C deck.  Bill said he was too cold and was going below to get out of the wind.  That was the last time I saw Bill.

Shortly, Ole and I went in out of the wind, but we went up on B deck which was partially shielded.  We sat on a bench in a little alcove on the Starboard side and watched dusk come on.  Bill Moomey soon came by and sat down with us.  He had left his hammock when Tom Bowle and Tony Lemos had parted company with their dinners.  The resultant oder [sic] was too much for him and he came up for fresh air.

The other troop ship carrying the remainder of the infantrymen of the Division was a little to our rear and slightly to one side of us.  Destroyers and corvettes roamed the waters in front of us and way out on our flanks.  At about 5:40 we spotted 3 destroyers or corvettes in a little huddle way off to our starboard.  We guessed they had a submarine trapped.  Beyond them and about 10 miles from us were the lights of the outer breakwater of the Port of Cherbourg.  By this time my squad leader, Al Salata, had come along and joined our little group.

Ole suddenly felt his insides rising and hurried to the rail at a point about 15 yards aft of where we were sitting.  He returned, and we contemplated procuring a blanket to keep our legs warm.  We didn’t consider it very seriously, though, because we were all too lazy to go down after it.  Ole hadn’t been back from the rail two minutes, when the ship jarred, a terrific explosion was heard, and a piece of metal hurtled overboard at just about the point where Ole’s dinner had gone over.

Ole, Bill, Al, and I rose simultaneously and began tightening our own and each other’s life preservers.  I believe I said, “Looks like we’re hit”, without much feeling.  It was really quite an amazing observation, don’t you think?  We automatically headed for the bow of the ship, but not in any great haste.  We went to the same hatch on C deck where Ole and I were sitting about a half hour before.  The open decks were quickly filling up with soldiers.  Presently we were joined by Hank, Jack, and George; making 7 of us from the weapons platoon standing there together.  Dick Matthews, who had been with these 3 boys, had gone below just about 3 minutes before the explosion.

Soon C and D decks in the bow where [sic] jammed.  There had been no announcements over the public address system.  No one seemed to know whether we had been torpedoed or had struck a mine.  All the lights onboard were turned on or awhile and our ship must have stood out like a sore thumb.  This led many to believe it could not have been a submarine because we now would make a wonderful target.

The destroyers came back and hung around us like flies.  I didn’t see what the other troop ship did, but learned later she took off like a “great-ass bird” around our port side.  She zig-zagged back out into the Channel and returned to the Port of Cherbourg in the wee hours of the morning.  The boys on her, including Eich, Walrath, Saxton, and most of the boys we knew at Missouri, disembarked Christmas Morning.

As we “E” Co. men stood together in the bow, we were naturally worried about what was happening aft – especially in compartment F-4.       We knew the explosion had come from very near our compartment.  Bill Moomey was the only machine-gunner in our little group, and since all his close buddies were down in the hold, he spoke the most often of them [including Carl Bonde].  The rest of us tried to act and talk optimistically to cheer Bill, but there were doubts in all our hearts.

There was never any real thought that the ship would sink.  Everyone in the bow was very calm.  Some believed we would be put off onto destroyers, tugs, and lifeboats.  Others said we would be towed in by the tugs which we were told were on the way.  We watched the crew attempt to lower a lifeboat.  They got it swung out over the water but couldn’t lower it because it was tied up incorrectly.  They left it swinging there and moved onto another one.  After much effort they finally got this one half way to the water when one man cut one of the ropes.  Of course all this bungled work by the crew brought intermittent cheers, handclaps, and Bronx cheers from the G.I.’s.  What would we do without that ever-present American humor?

About 7 a tug passed very close by our port side.  She was manned by blue-clad English sailors, and there was the usual exchange of cheers and humorous cracks.  There was a girl dressed in red standing before the cabin of the tug.  She, of course, received a hearty greeting.

[Omitted is a drawing of the Leopoldville by Bill Loughborough that shows where the torpedo hit.]

Yes, about 7:30 we saw the nose of a destroyer draw up close on our starboard side.  It jockeyed back and forth several times and then stayed even with us; only her nose showing to us.  She had been lashed to our ship’s side.  Someone yelled to those on the starboard half of this part of C deck to file along the railing and to board the destroyer.  That order included our little “E” Company group.  We were in no hurry to get off our big ship which still stood perfectly erect.  No one hurried, in fact.  We knew there had been only one explosion, and figured the water-tight doors would keep water out of the other compartments.

Nevertheless, one by one we climbed up on the rail and made the big leap to the destroyer.  Big Hank was one of the first to jump from our particular point, and of course fell over his big feet as he hit the destroyer deck.  I called down, “Nice one, Hank!”  He looked up and grinned at me as I hung overboard on one strand of the rope net which was slung over the side of our ship.  There were too many on the net, so I let go and really leaped.  The waves were tossing the two ships like kites in a heavy wind.  When the waves forced them apart, there was quite a gap between them.  Seeing this, I gave such a leap that even had they been away apart I would have been O.K.  They were just coming together, though, so I sprawled out on my belly in midship against a ventilater [sic] stack.   Old laughed at me from above.

I spoke to a weather-beaten English sailor who was straining to hold one of the huge ropes which lashed the ships together.  We were moved quickly around the starboard side of the destroyer and finally down into the hold.  I saw Hank a few men ahead of me but was kept from catching him by a sailor who directed me down a ladder leading to the bottom deck.  Lo and behold, this was the galley!  It soon filled to capacity.  Al Salata was across the compartment, about 150 G.I.’s away.  The cook passed some cups of hot soup around.  We were all plenty cold, and the soup really hit the spot.  A great many boys were too seasick to enjoy it, though….

Shortly…we learned the ship had sunk!  The word spread thru the shivering crowd like a fire thru a dry forest.  The ship had sunk!  It was unbelievable!…

From our great bunch of the Weapons Platoon we lost our big, tall, likeable platoon Sgt, Billie Ragle, the two section Sgts Bob Hoyt (who ran the party we attended in Ozark) and “Skippy” Ransome;  all our squad leaders except Salata, Bradley, and Junior Weaver of the machine-guns, and “Mac” MacDaniel and Jim Mortimer of the mortars; mortarmen Bob Rogers, Herb Koehler, Sam Noto, “Mac” MacKensie, Frank, “Whit”, Wyatt, Leonard Benda (who came to our house in Dothan once for some drinks.  He was accompanied on that visit by George Eastburn another mortarman who is still with us because of being on the other ship), and Dick, “Nick”, Matthews; machine gunners Dick Vester (you met him at the Red Cross in Little Rock, Carl Bondy, Tony Lemos, Eddie DeSilva, Carl Nelson (the big, fair-haired boy you met at the Ozark party and liked so well), Pete Acri (like Ragle and Ransom a recent father!) and Tom Bowle.  What a terrific gang they were!  Almost all ex – ASTP and Air Corps men, too…

Bill [Moomey], please let me know any parts of this story that you would change or add to. 

Love,

Bill [Loughborough]

 Carl Bonde’s name appears twice in Bill Loughborough’s letter, misspelled Bondy.

Mrs Carl Bonde

Kalispell, Mont.

Dec. 12^th ‘44

PFC Carl R Bonde 34616683

Co. E 262 Inf. A.P.O. 17803

c/o Postmaster New York, N.Y.

Tuesday Dec. 12^th

Dear Bud – Am going to try Vmail.  Let me know which reaches you the quickest.  It is just a month since we got your last letter.  We have written many to you and hope you get them eventually.  Hope you get the Xmas box.  Dad and I listen to war news and wonder how it affects you.  Jordet gave us a tree today and I know you have a vivid picture of how it looks.  I am packing Carol’s box to nite so Dad can mail it tomorrow the earliest I have ever mailed Xmas packages.  We have already received Helen’s and Corinnes.  They write not to pack but you know me or what would you do?  Dad wrote you an air mail letter yesterday and told you all the news he could think of.  I have been playing Xmas songs on the piano and do fairly well.  We are hoping we will hear from you by Xmas.  We are going to have the Inter Lake sent to you.  Hope you will be able to read this.  Am wondering if I write too small.  Hope you enjoy new scenery and new friends.  Be kind to your buddies.  They are all lonesome for home.  And may you enjoy Xmas as it is provided for you.  With all our love, Mom & Dad –

[This letter bears a stamp “Return to Sender Verified Base Post Office.”]