The Durant News

Holmes Youth With The Dixie Division On Morotai

-(Special Release)-"That's all I can do, men, the rest is up to you." Private Minor DuVal of San Bernardino, Calif. glancing at the empty grenade box beside him, sat down in the cab of his amphibious tank.

DuVal had just made the way easier for his load of infantry assault troops by breaking open the grenade case and hurling its contents at the strong Jap positions beyond the beach. Bullets and shell fragments whined in the air about the son of Mrs. Savilla DuVal (879 18th St.) as he turned his "water buffalo" around and headed from the shore for more troops.

DuVal's action is just one reason why the doughboys of the 31st Infantry Division have great respect for the members of their LVT (Landing Vehicle Tank) Platoon.

Platoon Leader, Master Sergeant James R. Sellars, whose wife, Esther, lives at Zephyrhills, Fla., concurs.

"These men of mine," he says, "are the worst damn garrison soldiers in the world, but if there's any hope of action ahead they'll work their heads off twenty-four hours a day getting ready and then come back from the mission moaning because there wasn't enough excitement."

Privates Oliver Harty and George F. Dunn are two of his action-loving men. Harty's wife, Fanny, and his six-year-old son, Oliver, Jr., live at 96 Spring St. Goshen, N. Y., while Dunn calls 45 Atwells Ave., Providence, R. I., home.

"It's work, but it's a hell of a lot of fun," grinned Harty. He and Dunn had just returned from a tortuous trip up an inland river carrying supplies to an advanced infantry company. "They used to drop rations and supplies by plane until we finally managed to get a Buffalo up to them. Had to take demolition squad of engineers with us to blast a few spots clear, but we finally made it. These Buffaloes are the only way in the world to get there except by foot. No boat could make it-too many shallows, coral rock, and fallen trees. We're making trips every day now."

"Yeah," Dunn agreed, but we don't always make it back the same night. Take Christmas Day, f'r instance. We were going up with supplies and were told our turkey dinner would be saved for us until we got back. Well, we went on up with a company of infantry marching ahead of us. The water was shallow so we made good time. All of a sudden I saw the troops scrambling up the banks. I soon saw why—a four foot wall of water was rushing downstream. 'Caused by a cloud burst up in the mountains. I guess. Anyway, it wasn't long before we were in the middle of the storm ourselves. There was nothin' to do but to stop for the night so guards were set out and we hacked out a place for ourselves in the jungle. No blankets nor nothin'. And instead of turkey, we ate soaked K-ration.

Most of the men in the LVT platoon were originally from the field artillery.

"It wasn't hard for us to get used to these things," explained Harty, "because most of us had driven the caterpillars having the big guns. These Buffaloes are only a little harder to drive -mostly because you can't see well.

Nope, I haven't ever heard of one turning over, and I've had 'em darn near perpendicular myself. And as far as a rough sea goes, as long as you have your motor running you can't sink one of these babies. A driver has to get over being seasick, though."

Maintenance is one of the biggest problems, according to T/5 Walter Elfman, 5941 Cedar Ave., Philadelphia, Pa. the chief mechanic. "We have a hard time getting parts and have to improvise a lot," the corporal said. "One of our most frequent troubles is broken 'grousers', those paddle-like cleats you see on the tracks. Sometimes if they're just bent we can fix them, but if they are broken there is nothing to do but to take them off and hope you can replace them. It's not often that a Buffalo throws a track, but it happens once in a while. Other day had a tank throw one when it was about eight miles inland. Al went up and fixed it single-handed. It took him two or three hours, standing hip-deep in water. I still don't see how he did it." Al is T/5 Allen M. Coleman, the husband of Mrs. Fannie B. Coleman, Rt. No. 4, Pensacola, Fla.

In three major operations, the platoon has had only three men wounded,

"But we've killed a good many Japs," said Sergeant Sellars.

Four Mississippians are in the platoon. They are Sgt. Buford K. O'Neal, husband of Mrs. Alma W. O'Neal, Rt. A, Wiggins; Pfc. Hugh T. Ferguson, son of Mrs. Ethel G. Ferguson, Rt. 1, Box 4B, Greenville; Pfc. Robert D. Moorhead, whose parents, Mr. and Mrs. J. L. Moorhead, lives on RFD 1, Durant; and Pvt. Gibb Farrish, whose wife Lena, lives at 1008 Mississippi Ave., Greenwood.