Since his father had died, JR’ didn’t think of himself as a boy any longer. The Harley motorcycle gave him a sense of adventure and exploration. His restlessness coupled with his new Harley carried him to Cincinnati, where his sister lived. JR’ also enjoyed side trips to Florida and Mexico, just for the fun of it. His travels gave him plenty of time to think, he often wondered what life would hold for him.
JR’ man on left. Other individuals are unidentified — (Film developer stamped June 5, 1940 on back of picture)
Tuesday, December 9th, 1941, JR’ and his two buddies, Pat Crouch and Frank Treadway headed for Beckley, West Virginia to volunteer for the Army. The day before, while driving along in his pickup with his brother and brother-in-law delivering ice—they heard it on the radio . . . Pearl Harbor had just been bombed by the Japanese.
The trip from Sanger, West Virginia, JR’s home at the time, to Beckley, West Virginia was a little more than 18 miles. Beckley was where you had to go to sign up for the military; it was the county seat for Raleigh County. He wanted to join the Army, he said, because that’s where the action was. Surely at that time he could never imagine the extent to which he would see ‘action.’
“I was going to whip the man by myself,” he said, referring to Hitler who he knew was responsible for the Japanese bombing Pearl Harbor and the United States officially entering the war.
JR’ had grown into a real man and was indeed a tough guy. He was tall, wiry and strong from loading coal and ice day-in and day-out. He hated what had happened—the bombing of Pearl Harbor the way it happened, with a sneak attack. JR’, not unlike many of his coal mining ancestors, always faced-up to a challenge, whether it be a good fist fight or providing for your family. There wasn’t any sneak attack in JR’, no sir, he was head-on.
They arrived at the courthouse in Beckley, where they spotted over twenty others waiting to sign up to join the military. It seemed that many of the coal miners, including JR’s older brother Edgar, were deferred from the military.
“The government said the miners were more important to the war effort right where they were,” JR’ said.
This deferred status was not to be for JR’ though. He knew exactly what he wanted to do and here he was in Beckley, volunteering for the U.S. Army. “Why the Army and not the Navy I asked?”
“The Army had motorcycles and the Navy didn’t,” he said with a chuckle.
JR’ mentioned that out of the entire number of volunteer’s at Beckley that day he only knew Pat and Frank, who came with him. He said it was rowdy sometimes and at other times only somber faces could be seen. He noticed how the group was laughing one moment and very quiet the other.
“We had a couple sips of whisky on the way down—so nothing bothered us much,” he said.
JR’ went on to say that his friend Frank, who was not so tall with a slight build and a baby face became the focus of attention right away.
“We don’t need no baby’s to fight,” JR’ recounted a guy shouted at Frank.
You had to be 21 years old to enter the military at this time except if you had a signed permission note from your parents. JR’ was 20 years old and had his signed note from Jane Ann, his mother. Frank on the other hand was only 18 years old and looked younger. I ask JR’ about Frank’s note . . .
“We’d known about the signed notes and when I asked Frank about his,” Frank mumbled, “Don’t you think I know how to write,” JR’ just smiled.
This is a map of JR’s trip from Beckley, West Virginia, to Ft. Thomas, Kentucky for Military Induction
Site #1 is Oak Hill, West Virginia—JR buys Harley motorcycle.
Site #2 is Sanger, West Virginia—where JR lived at the time.
Site #3 is Beckley, West Virginia—leaves for US Army
Site #4 is Charleston, West Virginia—pick-up other inductees.
Site #5 is Ft. Thomas, Kentucky—US Army Induction Center.
Needless to say, officials initially argued against his joining but finally allowed him to sign up. JR’ mentioned the excitement from the incident sobered the group and again they were quiet. It was as if a manly transition was taking place over the group of young men—many who were leaving home for the first time. The officials at the sign-up station let the new inductee’s go back home and give their farewells’ to friends and family.
The next Saturday on the 13th, Pat, Frank and JR’ caught the bus heading to Beckley, where they would catch another bus. Naturally, to keep their calm of the event, they all had a few sips from a whiskey bottle. JR’ remembers getting kicked off the bus three times for his rowdiness, but eventually let back on after convincing the driver of his importance to the war effort. He remembers a woman with a small baby on the bus and the baby had soiled itself with the lady not having a replacement diaper. Pat had noticed a tear in one of the bus’s canvas-back seat covers so he and JR’ tore the rest of it off and made a diaper for the distressed child. They were proud of the precise diaper sizing and, of course, the ingenuity of their efforts.
From Beckley, along with several other new inductees, they were bused to Charleston, West Virginia, where they picked up additional boys who had signed up. From there they headed straight to Ft. Thomas, Kentucky to become officially signed in to the Army. Ft. Thomas was located just south of Cincinnati, Ohio, which was just south of the Ohio River that bisected Kentucky and Ohio.
The trip from Beckley was about 270 miles and they got there in one day. At Ft. Thomas, military officials finally caught up with Frank and his note—they put him on the next bus back to Beckley. It was late in the afternoon and after an official swearing-in step forward, JR’ was in the United States Army. His official date of enlistment: December 13, 1941.
Now getting close to chow time JR’ remembers his first job in the Army. He volunteered for KP, what he later found out to be a military expression for ‘kitchen police.’ He never heard of KP before, but found out pretty quick. He said he didn’t mind it much, after all, he was in the Army and that’s where he wanted to be. “I volunteered all the time, ya know,” he said, laughing.
Chapter Three
JR’s Military Training
JR’ didn’t care much for KP in the Army, but that’s about the only thing he remembers not to his liking.
Ft. Thomas, Kentucky, was what you would call a reception center for the Army. The new soldiers spent most of their day getting disease inoculations and uniforms; boots and all the necessary items, less weapons, they would need prior to leaving for their basic training camp.
After three days at Ft. Thomas, JR’ boarded a train headed for California and Camp Roberts, located about half way between Los Angles and San Francisco. The nearest city to the military reservation was Paso Robles, California. The train took four or five days to travel from Kentucky to Camp Roberts. JR’ said it seemed like a long journey but the train stopped frequently to let the soldiers get some exercise. He remembered the times they stopped at train stations where the soldiers got off but couldn’t leave the immediate area—usually to find some stronger refreshments. The enterprising local residents would wait until the soldiers boarded the train before they offered them liquor to buy—as the train was about to pull away.
“They would sell you an expensive bottle of whiskey in a brown paper bag,” he said.
“They’d run along side the train and ask for the money first then hand you the sack. I remember a Captain getting a sack with wine in it, he was so angry that he threw it back at the guy,” JR’ said chuckling.
JR’ knew right away what was going to happen prior to getting back on the train, so he cut his deal for whiskey with a citizen near the train station, avoiding the last minute rush. He thought the soldier’s hurrying to get some liquor would prove opportunistic for a scam and indeed many soldiers, including the captain, were disappointed. “The people at the train stations knew we couldn’t go into town and I knew they’d have something to sell a soldier,” he said, “you just couldn’t wait until the last minute to get
your bottle otherwise you’d never know what you’re getting,” JR’ said laughing.
Troop Train Station World War II Circa 1940’s
Camp Roberts sits on 45,000 acres of mostly desert and some rolling hills. Congress authorized the purchase of this ideal training area in 1940, located on Highway 101 between Los Angles and San Francisco, California. The camp named after Corporal Harold W. Roberts, a 19 year old tank soldier, who lost his life in WWI when his tank fell into a large crater of water and he pushed his gunner out before him. Corporal Roberts became the only enlisted man having a military post named after him. Roberts received the Medal of Honor posthumously. Camp Roberts officially began its mission as a training center in March 1941 and is one of the largest military training facilities still in existence with a parade field 14 football fields long. The camp is capable of holding and training 30,000 soldiers at its full capacity.
JR’ was glad to finally reach Camp Roberts. It had been a long and tiring journey from Kentucky, but the pace jumped-up considerably on arrival. Immediately the Army introduced him to the rigors of daily hikes, running, marching, field-camping and general physical exercise. All structured to identify those individual soldiers capable of strenuous work, following orders and with potential for leadership. There was much to learn about the Army as a soldier and the Army wanted to learn as much as possible about the kinds of soldiers they were getting. JR’ stood out like a sore thumb. His physical prowess, naturally, distinguished him right away. Much of the physical rigors of training, and the strength and stamina required took its toll on many trainees. JR’s athletic prowess aided his physical portion of the training and he was recognized for his coolness and calm demeanor. He tried to be accommodating to the Army and in a generally good disposition throughout the entire process.
“Overall, I would say I had a pretty good time of it,” JR’ said. “Sure it was tough, but I was used to tough. I got by pretty good in basic training, better than most I’d say.”
After basic training JR’ was attached to the 35th Division, with his first duty station only eight miles down Highway 101 from Camp Roberts.
“We pulled guard duty most of the time I was there.”
Infantry Training Center—Camp Roberts, California
Two soldiers erecting “Pup Tent” at Camp Roberts (These photos were post cards used by soldiers to mail home) Circa early 1940’s
Guest House used for visitors at Camp Roberts
Soldier-trainee’s gathering for “field” mess (lunch). Circa early 1940’s
Field Artillery Training—Camp Roberts, California
Inside a soldier barracks at Camp Roberts Circa early 1940’s
He described his work as guarding important buildings, ports, train stations and every damn thing you could think of.
“People were scared as hell and the military had to respond to every damn little thing or call to the police or local government,” JR’ said. He mentioned the noted entertainer and reporter Walter Winchell who called the military the Hollywood Commandoes.
JR’ spent a total of about fourteen months in California finally being assigned to another duty station for further training in Alabama. When he got there, he said, the first thing they did was ask for volunteers to be paratroopers. JR’ volunteered naturally, but they only took one guy from his group, and it was not him. He then heard about ‘the Rangers’ and volunteered for that. The Rangers he heard were a ‘new-elite’ crop of soldiers and he certainly wanted to be apart of that. JR’ didn’t hear anything right away, as he said the military was a ‘hurry up and wait’ type organization.
At Camp Rucker in southern Alabama JR’ made PFC or Private First Class. Being promoted made him happy as he thought he’d never get to be anything more than a lowly private. The very next day after his promotion to PFC a training officer asked, “where’s your PFC insignia Copeland?” JR’ told the officer that having the insignia sewn on his uniform cost more than the extra $4 in pay the new rank provided, so he thought he would wait awhile. He found out quick that answer was not the right answer.
“He busted me back to private that day,” JR’ said chuckling.
He didn’t hear anything about the Rangers for the longest time while continuing his combat training and schooling at Camp Rucker. Finally the word came; it was 2 A.M., in the morning. At 3 A.M., two dozen or so men in his group loaded on a train headed to parts unknown. All of the selected future Rangers was in one train car with no officer or official person to give the soldiers orders or answer any questions. JR’ said it was eerily quiet with hardly any talking among the soldiers. He said it was hard to sleep as the tension of the moment sort of kept them all on edge.
“The train moved quickly but time seemed at a standstill. We had no idea where we were going, no one said a thing,” he said.
Late morning the next day, the train pulled into a train station—someone saying they thought it was Georgia. The station was empty except for a number of Army Officers and Sergeants outside on a huge wooden platform. A short mean-looking Drill Sergeant came into their car and started screaming; “GET OFF, GET OFF, GET OFF THE TRAIN.” All the future Rangers quickly scurried to the station deck in front of the wooden platform, immediately standing at attention, fronting the Army Officers. JR’ remembers one of the soldiers, who came with them, wore a pair of sunglasses.
“RANGERS DON’T WEAR SUNGLASSES,” the sergeant barked, throwing them on the deck and crushing them with his shiny boot. JR’ snickered under his breath.
James Robert Copeland (Private) United States Army Circa 1942
JR’ said the introduction to the Rangers was like basic training all over again except much, much harder. He could tell immediately the Rangers were a different breed of soldier than the regular soldiers. There were all kinds and types of soldier in his Ranger training group, some like JR’ — big, strong and fast, others not so much. The Ranger Sergeants and Officers were ‘mean as hell’ with forever scowling faces and bad temperaments, JR’ remembered. He believed the Rangers were looking for the soldier with courage and a never-die attitude. He hoped to pass the test.
“They were a serious bunch, he said, I didn’t mind it so much; it was wartime so a lot depended on discipline.”
Thinking about what JR’ had mentioned about discipline—I couldn’t help but think how true his words were going to be for him at Omaha Beach. Did he realize how important his convictions to the Rangers would become? I believe he did. JR’s personality had been developed long ago, at home. His strength, courage and integrity surely stood-out and noticed by his superior’s. His silence and occasional boastfulness were duly noted by the Ranger Sergeants and Officers, I’m certain. Personality traits like; Quiet confidence and coolness under fire, are most endearing. There’s no question in my mind—JR’ distinguished himself from day one.
JR’ mentioned the stay in Georgia was only a couple hours as the new troops were on their way somewhere else with a new set of Ranger Officers and Sergeants in tow. The train finally stopped in a small southeastern Tennessee community called Tullahoma, just outside the gates of a huge 78,000 acre military reservation.
In September, 1943, the 5th Ranger Infantry Battalion was activated at Camp Forrest, Tennessee. A rigorous couple months of training ended in a selection from 3000 plus soldiers—a Ranger group totaling 34 Officers and 503 Enlisted men. The unit included Private James Robert Copeland. While in Tennessee, the Rangers took a side trip to Fort Pierce, Florida for rubber boat training. In late November, 1943, the Rangers left again, for the last time, ending up in New Jersey at a place called Fort Dix. JR’ recalled reading the history of Fort Dix and how it was named for a Major General John Adams Dix, a veteran of the War of 1812. JR’s father had mentioned he had relatives who fought in the War of 1812. He wondered what the significance of Fort Dix held for him.
“Sort of felt a strange—but comfortable feeling at Fort Dix,” JR’ said.
JR’ was immediately attached to a special weapons sect
ion because of his knowledge of rifles and shotguns. He could have never imagined what he was to see in weaponry provided by the U.S. Army. Besides your typical rifles, scatter guns and pistols . . . JR’ was impressed beyond belief with the likes of fully automatic rifles, machine guns, bazookas, mortars, grenade launchers—there was a plethora of heavy individual weapons. These were the types of weapons carried and used by one or two individuals and not the wheeled artillery-type cannons.
“They taught me how to tear every weapon apart piece by piece and put it back together again, JR’ said, and I was damn good at it.”
JR’ caught on fast and his sergeants saw he was very trainable. They made him a buck sergeant right away, what’s called a ‘Special Weapons Unit NCO,’ (Non-Commissioned Officer).
Bloody Omaha - My Remembrances of That Day by James Robert Copeland Page 2
