By Ruth Luse
“Be It Ever So Humble — The Story of Hopewell, New Jersey, and Its Servicemen During World War II” was written by Dean H. Ashton in 1947 . . . about two years after what is known today as Hopewell Valley American Legion Post 339 was chartered in late 1945.
Mr. Ashton’s book (Copyright, 1947 by Dean H. Ashton; First Edition; Printed by Kirkham & Guthrie, Trenton) tells the stories of men, from Hopewell, who served in World War II.
For this account, excerpts from the book are paraphrased and the focus is on two of those men. One died in North Africa on Feb. 15, 1943. The other still lives in Hopewell today and has given much of his time over many years to the Hopewell community (as a one-time member of Hopewell Borough Council) and to the American Legion — on local, county, state and national levels.
The two are Irvin D. Van Nest Jr., private first class, and Private First Class James H. Hall.
PRIVATE FIRST CLASS IRVIN D. VAN NEST JR. was the first Hopewell boy who lost his life in World War II. Word that he had been killed in action came by telegram. Men at the Cox & Cray barbershop on Seminary Avenue were among the first, if not the first, to hear the news.
It was close to 8 p.m. when Harry Cox glanced at the clock and said to his partner Harry B. Cray: “Eight o’clock-time to close up.” Mr. Cox snapped the lock on the door and lowered the shades. There were two customers left.
Just minutes after, someone rattled the doorknob. The man was Harry Wolfe, who was a plumber. Mr. Wolfe paced across the shop two or three times, staring at the floor. He had something inside his coat pocket. Obviously troubled, he took out a yellow envelope and gave it to Mr. Cox, who took only a moment to read it.
“My God, Harry — you don’t mean it — Irvin Van Nest — killed in action!” he gasped.
“Did this just come, Harry?” Mr. Cox asked.
“Yes — I just came from the station,” Mr. Wolfe said. “They called me up, asked me to come over and then they gave me this. They didn’t want to send it over to his mother.”
Mr. Cox said: “This will be a terrible blow to her.”
“Yes and I don’t know how to tell it to her,” Mr. Wolfe said.
Irvin D. Van Nest was the only son of Mrs. Rena Van Nest, sister-in-law of Mr. Wolfe. Despite financial handicaps, he found a way to enter Cornell University and receive two years’ training. He then went south, planning to continue his schooling in Oklahoma, but wages being paid in the oil fields were appealing and he deferred his studies. He married Anna Louise Craig, of Lubbock, Texas, on Sept. 13,1941, at Carlsbad, New Mexico.
He joined the military on Jan. 28, 1942, and trained for the Army’s Armored Force at Fort Knox, Kentucky. When orders came to move north, he and his outfit entrained for Fort Dix, about 25 miles from Hopewell. As soon as he could get leave, Van Nest hit town. Three weeks later, he was on the Atlantic in a convoy headed for Ireland. He remained there until Oct. 15, 1942.
His outfit, the First Armored Division, engaged in maneuvers with British fighting units, as part of preparations to repel the anticipated invasion of England by the Nazis. The plan of the Allied strategists then was to move troops into southern Ireland, if German troops were flung across the Channel. In that way, a seaport in southern Ireland would be available as a backdoor to the British Isles in the event of England’s fall. However, “when it became apparent that England was to escape invasion attempts from across the Channel, attention was turned to preparations for Allied landings in North Africa.”
During these British-American joint maneuvers, Van Nest was among many in the First Armored Division afflicted with yellow jaundice, requiring extended hospital care at Ballaykinder, Ireland. There was one good thing about his long hospital stay. On June 19, 1942, he discovered that Joseph N. Castoro (who would become a Hopewell Borough councilman many years later) was in the same hospital, set up in a former castle.
Castoro was a technician, fifth class, in the 123rd Maintenance Combat Team, First Armored Division. He had injured his knee while on maneuvers. “Little did either realize that Castoro would be less than half a dozen miles distant when Van Nest met his death in Tunisia, North Africa, and be the means of bringing back direct information that would offer some little consolation to Van Nest’s mother.”
The date for the move to Africa arrived, with landings set for Nov. 8, 1942. Castoro went ahead as his outfit carried orders to land at Arzew, adjacent to Oran, Algeria, about 300 miles east of the Straits of Gibraltar. Van Nest, now with Company G, 13th Armored Regiment, and assigned to Combat Command B, of the First Armored Division, moved into England and remained there until after Christmas. Then he, too, was on his way to North Africa. He and Castoro met again at Philippeville, Algeria, in January 1942, and continued to see one another at frequent intervals during the next 20 days thereafter.
Philippeville is about 375 miles east of Oran and less than 100 miles from the Tunisian border to the west. Van Nest’s last letters written in late January from North Africa did not disclose that he had narrowly escaped death while aboard ship en route to North Africa. A The torpedo made a gaping hole in the stern of the ship, but the crew managed to bring the vessel the remaining 50 miles to the Algerian shore.
North Africa, at that time, was “witnessing the crucial struggle by German General Rommel to extricate his troops from the danger of being cornered in Tunisia after being relentlessly pursued in what has been described as ‘the longest chase in military history,’ covering 1,300 miles in 13 weeks from the outskirts of Alexandria, Egypt, to Tunisia.”
At one time, “it had appeared that invasion of the Middle East was inevitable and General Sir Bernard Law Montgomery was rushed from England to see whether the situation could be mended. He concluded that Egypt must be held, regardless of price. Military resources, men, planes, tanks, were poured into North Africa . . . The hectic combat that turned Rommel back and sent him in retreat through Tobruk, Bengasi, E1 Alghiela and Tripoli, brought into Tunisia his crack Panzer Division, ready to pit its skill acquired in Poland, France and Russia, against the best that Britain and the United States had to offer.”
Early in January, Tabessa, a walled city 125 miles south of Philippeville (the Mediterranean coastal port), was the Allied base for Central Tunisia. Van Nest, “as a member of Combat Command B, moved 125 miles southward to Tabessa, less than 50 miles from Kasserine Pass, which later was to become a critical point in the campaign that finally wrested North Africa from German domination . . . Trained for tank warfare, he served as a radio man and operated the gun in the top turret of an M-3 tank, as a member of a five-man crew.”
In early February, Rommel realized that he had to free himself from Allied pressure in Central Tunisia aiming at the closing of the escape corridor by a break-through to the coast. “Suddenly, Rommel’s Panzer Division and Afrika Korps, supported by dive bombers, lunged at the British Eighth Army’s lines. For the first time, the new German Mark VI tanks appeared, boasting of heavy armor as well as 75 and 105 mm.guns.
” Observers estimated that one-third of Hitler’s entire air force was thrown into the battle. Against the veteran combat units, right at the height of Nazi power, stood inexperienced American artillery and armored outfits that had been sent to the western end of Faid Pass to relieve French and British troops. The Nazi tanks, numbering more than 100, broke through and the German column split to advance on Sidi bou Zid to the northwest and toward Gapa at the south. The loss of Faid Pass was a serious blow to the Allies, for it could have been used to funnel troops from the hilly terrain to the flat coastal plain. But Rommel had seized upon that advantage, moving more rapidly than the Allies found it possible, and as a result, a rout began.”
While Faid Pass was at stake, Van Nest’s “section of the Armored Division got orders to advance into battle. Taking advantage of darkness, the tank column passed through the town of Sbeitla, a small oasis about 6 miles from Sidi bou Zid, the spot where they were directed to be in position for action at dawn.
“That night was the last time I saw Irvin alive,” Castoro said months later when he returned to Hopewell. “The Allies still hoped to hold Faid Pass, although it had been bombed for five days in a row, from the 10th to the 15th. My outfit was parked along the road in the darkness while we waited for the advancing column that was going up, to pass. The column halted for some reason and to my surprise, Irvin jumped off a tank close to me. We chatted for 20 minutes or so, just ‘throwing it,’ as fellows usually do. Then they moved ahead.”
Van Nest died shortly after daybreak. He and his four crewmates had been adjacent to their tank, “trying to warm up a little coffee to fortify themselves against the early morning desert chill, when a German Stuka bomber came in over them and dropped a torpedo bomb. The bomb hit about 25 feet from the tank crew and exploded, hurling shrapnel and fragments over a wide area and costing the lives of all five men who had been huddled together. It was Van Nest’s first experience in battle — and his last.”
About a month after Van Nest’s death, Castoro’s outfit moved back through Sid bou Zid and at a crossroads there, Van Nest’s sergeant showed Castoro where Irvin and his companions had died. German troops had buried the bodies along the roadside and five mounds of earth were visible. Later, Van Nest’s body was moved, along with those of his fallen companions, to Tebessa, to be interred in a United States Army Cemetery within that walled city of ancient Algiers, again restored to French control.
“Upon the Hopewell Service Flag there appeared the first Gold Star.”
PRIVATE FIRST CLASS JAMES H. HALL went overseas in February 1944, moved rapidly through France and was assigned to serve with Gen. (George) Patton’s Third Army. He wrote to his parents (Harry and Jeanette Hall) that, despite censorship, “You can keep track of me — where General Patton is, that’s where I’ll be.” Hall was assigned to Company C, 61st Infantry Battalion, of the Tenth Armored Division.
Hall had wanted to get into the Navy and had passed the Navy physical in the spring of 1944, but meanwhile “Selective Service machinery was moving and he was notified to report with others. He knew that the branch to which he would be assigned would depend upon the quotas for the Army and Navy to be filled on the day he began service.”
Hall reported at Pennington and learned that it was going to be the Army for him. He was sent to Camp Stewart, Georgia and then to Fort McClellan, Alabama. A furlough in January preceded reporting at Fort George J. Meade, Maryland. He crossed the Atlantic in February 1945. Within a few days, he was with General Patton’s Third Army.
Hall wrote: “The Third Army has been going along very fast, and the Germans are going faster — backward, of course. I am in Armored Infantry, which is not walking, and I call that a break. We travel in what is known as a half-track and we are in front of the foot infantry, in most cases. Once in a while we are slowed down to a stop until we can get started with our Air Force again. I am glad I got into this outfit as it is a good one and has a very good commander.”
When he joined “the Tenth Armored Division as a rifleman, the Division had just participated in the elimination of the Saar-Moselle triangle, where the Germans had screened preparations for their December offensive. Following the fall of Saarburg, the Tenth Armored (“Fighting Tigers”) crossed the Saar River to take Trier, a German rail center. Infantrymen established a bridgehead and engineers constructed a bridge that carried the vehicles of the Tenth Armored across. Five miles east of the Saar and 9 miles south of Trier, a turning movement was carried through at Zerf, leading to the fall of Trier on March 1. It was the first major German city to fall into the hands of the Third Army.”
In Trier, every building had to be searched, room by room. “In 24 hours, over 2,000 prisoners were seized, chiefly in the basements of the buildings. The outfit left Trier on March 16 with Mainz as the next objective. The Battalion advanced, fighting day and night. Between March 20 and 24, another spearhead drive, with the Armored Division mounted, was in progress, moving through numerous towns to Offenbach. On the 28th, the Division reached the Rhine and crossed at Ludwigshafen. On March 30, the outfit headed for Heilbronn, cleaning out stubborn resistance in Nusloch en route.”
FOR JIM HALL, the city of Crailsheim was to have special meaning.
An armored drive was carried through to that city on April 6. One mounted task force moved 35 miles into enemy territory in eight hours. The city was attacked and cleared. Hall’s platoon “set up defensive positions on the outskirts of the city in an elaborate residential sector of the city,” according to a day-by-day record kept by Lt. Arthur J. Grant, leader of the First Platoon. Grant states: “That night several ‘Jerry’ trucks drove right into our roadblocks, completely ignorant of our presence in the town. One Kraut truck driver even admitted that he was coming into Crailsheim on pass!”
Hall’s participation with Company C in events at Crailsheim are told in Lt. Grant’s history:
“We had so completely disorganized and confused ‘Jerry’ that he didn’t make any attempt to attack Crailsheim the night of April 6. We were prepared for any futile attempts that the enemy might make, however, and even laid our mine fields across the main highway in our sector of the town. On the morning of the 7th, I sent the First Rifle Squad, under Sergeant Paul, out in front of our defensive positions to an isolated house, past the outskirts of town. Just before noon, two Krauts rode up right in front of the house in which Paul’s squad was set up. They were on motorcycles and dismounted in full view of the men in Paul’s squad. When Pfc. Hall shouted to them to drop their weapons and come in as prisoners, they ran for their cycles and attempted to make a run for it. Upon this, Hall and Pfc. Greenly opened up with their automatic rifles and the rest of the squad followed suit. The two Krauts were literally torn apart, and some valuable maps and notes were found on them.”
“Under cover of darkness that night we drew Paul and his men back into our positions, knowing that ‘Jerry’ might try to cut them off from the rest of us, as they were more than a mile from us.”
The task of holding Crailsheim was not easy. “The Germans had virtually trapped those who had pressed inside. The Germans tried a heavy flank attack to retake the city on April 8. They were repulsed with 25 dead and at least 60 wounded in front of Company C’s position. On the 9th, enemy planes bombed and strafed troops as well as the supply train attempting to reach the outfit. A flight of C-47s (transport planes) was used to provide supplies for the Armored division. While being unloaded, German planes attacked. On the night of April 9, German soldiers infiltrated and 2,000 men participated in a morning attack. The battle continued until 2 p.m., before the city was again cleared.”
In that regard, Lt. Grant’s day-by-day history states:
“Our men becoming very weary, the ammunition situation was critical and food was running low . . . The enemy air activity continued, with several rocket planes or jets swooping in on us, before we could even hear them coming. But we were getting plenty of our own air support, now, and they managed to chase the enemy aircraft off as soon as they’d make one dive at us.”
Hall was wounded on April 10, the fifth and final day the group remained in the German trap. Late that afternoon, the outfit was informed of plans to evacuate Crails-heim. They were told that they were to be the last elements out and their positions were to be held until the very last minute. “It was 8 p.m. when Company C received orders to withdraw. The German attack was already advancing into the town. However, leaving Crailsheim was probably more dangerous than remaining there to fight it out.”
Here is Hall’s description of what followed:
“It was night. I was in the half-track at my machine-gun when we rode over the top of a hill. A mortar shell hit and knocked me cold. I got two or three little pieces of steel in me, one in my shoulder, a real small one; one under my chin and one in my elbow, but that was not so bad as the medics picked them out. I had only one scar, on my elbow. So the Lord must have surely been with me.”
Hall spent a day and a half in a field hospital and returned to action three days after being injured. He didn’t write home to his parents immediately, but after receiving a Purple Heart award on June 18 while at Mittenwald, Germany, he told them by letter that he had been wounded. He had waited until the war was over to save them from worry. At the same time, he disclosed that the pistol carried at his side had a large cut in the handle where a piece of flying steel had nicked it.
“Crailsheim had been a terrific ordeal. Because of its strategic importance, the Germans had used ‘everything in the book,’ including concussion bombs and shells, and incendiaries.” During those four days of battle, the fighting was regarded as “the most bitter along the Western front.”
“After the American withdrawal from Crailsheim, American artillery directed its fire upon the city and virtually leveled it.
“After Crailsheim, Hall moved with the Tenth Armored Division south toward Austria. Progress became quite rapid. On May 7, the Division took Innsbruck at the head of the Brenner Pass in Austria — the only supply route through the Alps to Italy.
“The Division was in Mittenwald on May 8 when the war in Europe ended.”
