1944. Life as a War Correspondent in Normandy

Bill Downs on the Western Front

CBS' D-Day team of war correspondents hired by Edward R. Murrow gather in London in 1944. From left to right: Richard C. Hottelet, Gene Ryder, Bill Downs, Charles Collingwood, Charles Shaw

Bill Downs wrote home regularly to his family in Kansas City, Kansas as he covered Allied forces in the months after D-Day. He talked about his life as a war correspondent in Normandy, from the long days of monotony to the spurts of front line action he witnessed while accompanying Allied troops. On June 14, he had made the first live broadcast to the United States from Normandy.

The ellipses between paragraphs indicate omissions of mailing addresses and general well wishes.

July 11, 1944

Dear Folks,

I finally received a letter dated May 5 which was most welcome. I don't know what has become of the rest of the mail, but the addresses seem to have been screwed up.

. . .

I was the first correspondent into Caen, but after running the gauntlet of German mortar and shell fire, I'm giving up the idea of being first everywhere. It was pretty frightening...and you don't know how much like home a slit trench can become. Caen is, or was, a beautiful city. There are some abbeys and cathedrals dating back to the tenth century. I hope we don't have to leave a trail of such destruction and death as we go forward. However, if we have to, we have to. No city or even country should be spared in stamping out the thing against which we are fighting. But it is not a pleasant sight.

The Germans have been shooting at us all too frequently lately, so I'm taking it easy for a while. I caught a nasty head cold last week but have gotten rid of it. Otherwise, I'm in excellent health. However British field rations are a little tiring. I've eaten steak and kidney pie until I'm sick of it...and stew and army biscuits are no better. Army tea, which is the only thing to drink in this man's outfit, is something they should have left in the horse.

Ed Murrow has offered both Larry LeSueur and me spot of leave if we want to take it. I haven't made up my mind yet, but I think that I'll stick around a while. I don't want to miss anything. There is so much to tell that it is difficult to begin. Generally the routine runs like this. Up at 7:15, have breakfast and get to an 8:30 conference, then another conference an hour later. After that you know where to go on the front. So you set out about 10 AM for the sector where you think things will be happening. Then you depend on your map reading to get you there. Very often you get on the wrong road and end up dodging bullets. But when you reach your destination, you look up the senior officer who shows you Germans or whatever is happening. You talk to the soldiers and get their story. Then you dash back down to make the afternoon broadcast at 3 PM—about 8 AM your time. Then you go out again looking for a story, get back for two more conferences at 6:30 and 7:30 PM and then write your evening broadcast at 11 PM. By that time you are ready for bed. I don't get but about one drink a week these days. You're too busy to play around. However there are some likely looking prospects in Caen...and I am ready.

That's about all. I'm living in a small hotel near the press headquarters but shortly am moving to a chateau. Water and light are the chief difficulties. There are none. And laundry is something you do yourself.

All in all I'm having myself one hell of a time...so don't worry about me.

Love,

Bill

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July 19, 1944

Dear Folks,

. . .

I'm getting myself a sunburn and have that bronzed look...which for a change does not come out of a bottle. The one thing about the British army that I like most is the fact that the British post exchange system gives you one good bottle of scotch a month...and a bottle of beer. I got a fifth of Vat 69 which disappeared in two days. With the shortage of local liquor, the place is as dry as the most avid prohibitionist could want it.

As you have heard, we've made a new breakthrough eastward and southward of Caen. I saw the world's greatest air bombardment from a grandstand seat only a mile away on a hill. It was really terrific. More noise than probably ever has been created on earth before.

Everyone over here is talking the end of the war, but I'm not so optimistic. I bet £50 the other day that Hitler would not be licked by October 1st. I've been looking for a beautiful blonde refugee who would like to do my washing and generally take care of me, but no luck thus far. This woman situation over here is hopeless. But really, getting laundry done is just as bad. I wear a shirt until it almost walks off me, then I change and wash it. Takes most of my leisure hours trying to keep clean.

I'm messing with the BBC broadcasting unit; we live in a chateau of a count. The Germans were living in the same place a few months ago. The count doesn't seem to mind which. The place has gone to hell generally, but there still are traces of the old feudal grandeur which he once owned—paintings, gilt, and worn out plush carpets.

I now have a jeep of my own and a driver. The jeep is named Mary Ann. The driver, Jock, says that's because his gal is the fastest thing in Britain. I'm getting rid of the captain who is supposed to conduct me. He is more trouble than he's worth—one of the vague types which you have to wet nurse. I conduct him instead of him conducting me. Having him around here is something like the days when I used to have to look out for Bonnie—only I think she was less trouble.

I saw some German prisoners the other day in the area south of Caen—they were the worst looking group of men I have ever seen. The British have them divided into two groups: those with lice and those without. The latter are a minority. And three out of four of them looked to be about 16 or 17—kids with their cheeks still puffed out in adolescence. Most of them carry dirty pictures around with them. On the whole they are a pretty scrubby lot.

But they fight like hell, even the young ones. These kids have never known anything but Nazism, and I will say that it makes good soldiers, but nothing else absolutely. Germany is going to be one hell of a problem after the war.

Outside of the fact that I'm getting the reputation for being the worst dressed correspondent in France, there's not much news. I'm going to the American quartermaster tomorrow and make my critics ashamed of themselves.

Keep writing...maybe I'll get one of your letters some day. If you want to reach my by cable, Paul White in New York will forward it to me. Take care of yourselves.

Love,

Bill

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July 25, 1944

Dear Folks,

I finally received a letter written since D-Day.

. . .

I have been writing you letters since before D-Day. I hope you have been getting them. I have no stamps over here and have just been putting them in the mail in the hope they will get there.

Nothing much going on right now, but by the time you get this there should be some more good news. We don't exactly know what to make of the Hitler crisis. It sounds almost too good to be true. We feel that Adolf probably will get by with it again. He's had almost a generation to dig himself in. He won't be easy to throw out. Anyway, no one is worried about it...these troops on this front have to be licked whether Hitler throws in the towel or not. And that's what we're doing.

The destruction from our tremendous bombing has been terrific. We've captured 2,000 prisoners after the Caen breakthrough, and a large part of it was due to the air—they were bomb happy.

I had a bath the other day—wonderful feeling. We now are living in a chateau that has a bona fide count...acres of pictures on the wall of all his ancestors, and believe it or not a picture of Ben Franklin given to a former owner of the place by Benjamin himself when he was first US minister to France. Ben sent along a letter with the portrait, but the count say that the Germans took the thing away.

I live in a third floor servant's room in the chateau and it's really not bad, except no water or lights and an anti-aircraft battery practically under my window. I share a bed with Chester Wilmot, an Australian with the BBC.

All in all it's a pleasant setup and nice to come back to after the battlefield. I still hope to get a few days off in the next week or so.

Glad to hear that I took the priority over the GOP during the convention. Makes you think, I hope. Betting over here is ten to one against Dewey. Wanta bet???

Have a late broadcast tonight. We go on the air at 1:15 AM most nights...doesn't give a hell of a lot of time for sleep if anything is happening.

Hope to get some sleep for a couple of hours so I will stop now. Keep writing...

Love,

Bill

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August 3, 1944

Dear Folks,

We've finally been having some summer weather with sun and heat and everything. Also plenty of dust that gets in your ears, eyes, hair, and even your toenails. I must have driven through 70 miles of a solid wall of dust today getting to and from the front. We've made such fast gains here the past week that it no longer is a morning's job getting a story. You have to spend all day at it.

. . .

We are now about 35 miles inland and still going...no longer a morning's job getting to the front through all this traffic. It takes all day now. Everyone is extremely optimistic here. And for the first time I share the optimism. We have a hell of a lot of fighting ahead of us, but I think we now have the enemy's number. He has taken one hell of a beating since we landed. However we have so much of everything that he hasn't got a chance, and I think he's beginning to realize it.

I'm living in the chateau still, but we are going to have to move forward if travel difficulties get any worse. We used to be able to get to the front in a half-hour—now it takes three times that long.

I went to my first party in Normandie the other night. There were British nurses and plenty of liquor so everyone had a wonderful time. Even the nurses are beginning to look good...which really does mean that I need some leave. I hope to get a few days within the next week or so...depends on how things go. I still have no desire to take leave in England. Might miss something.

We've been moving so fast lately that we actually are capturing some villages and farms that haven't been blown to hell. They are beautiful little places, and the farming country is really rich. Grows anything from grapes to wheat. The country south of here where we are fighting now looks very much like the Ozarks except not so rocky and the ground is richer. And they don't have a river here worthy of the name. They call a river what we would call a creek...still, even these streams are important because they stop tanks from getting through.

But while it is a beautiful country to look at, it is the devil to fight in. It's a sniper's paradise.

. . .

Love,

Bill

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August 11, 1944

Dear Folks,

Looks like I am going to get that few days rest. Leaving this afternoon for the unspoiled American sector in Brittany where the towns are whole, bottles are full and beds abundant. Hope to get a couple of days doing nothing during this lull before the big storm. Will tell you about it later.

Have been working with the Canadian army in the past week. They seem to have bad luck on their sector of the front. However it is the toughest sector in France and they have done exceedingly well considering.

Summer has finally shown up. Lovely August weather, hot without being stifling and blue skies and sun. Went swimming the other day for the first time in years, but I think I'll have dust in my hair from now on.

Not much to tell you about. I am doing two broadcasts a day when possible. Get up in the morning, go to corps headquarters and find out what happens...go forward from there to division HQ for a more detailed picture, then up to a brigade for more details, and then up to the front for eyewitness stuff. Get shelled or mortared frequently and have become adept at hitting the ground faster than it takes to blink an eye, but have been exceptionally lucky.

Then I come back about noon, write the morning broadcast, and go on the air at 3 PM here. Repeat the whole process in the afternoon if anything hot is developing and come back and write my evening broadcast that goes on any time between 11 PM and 1 AM from here.

So it doesn't leave much time for anything but work. I hope to be able to scrounge some brandy to bring back with us. Seems that the German Army fights on liquor...all of it confiscated for the Wehrmacht. Hope to run on to a German Army stores dump, but highly unlikely I'd think.

Got a Nazi flag as a souvenir the other day. Will bring it home. Also got some German haversacks that I needed, and some clothing for the refugees. Our refugees at our camp are looking better every day. Have a wonderful old woman who takes care of my room. She talks for hours in French; I don't understand a word and speak English to her. She doesn't understand either but we get along fine. Goes on for days. She brings flowers and thinks Americans are wonderful and I supply candy for her kids who spend their whole days shining my shoes. We may be moving our camp soon. I'll be sorry to lose her. The war is going okay. May end sooner than hoped, so keep your fingers crossed.

Love,

Bill

____________________________________________

August 20, 1944

Dear Folks,

I finally got my two days leave. Went to a paradise called Mont St. Michel off the Brittany coast...fantastic place. One island used to be a monastery in the 10th century and now caters to tourists. The people were still celebrating their liberation, and champagne and wine and brandy flow like water. Wonderful food and omelettes as big as a platter.

The press gravitated to it naturally, like flies to honey. Saw a lot of the boys and met Ernest Hemingway, who is now gathering information for another book about the French underground. He is quite a character and a very nice guy. The French people treated us like kings.

It is different in the American sector than the British. The towns are intact, and the people haven't lost their homes, so they suffered little. The head of the resistance movement in one town was a little guy who was the town veterinarian. He had spent the past four years blowing up German trains, cutting their telephone wires and such. He seemed almost sorry that he had to go back to treating horses and cows after all the excitement. His mother-in-law brought out some 50 year old calvados for us to drink. It was in a wide bottomed flask with a narrow neck, and inside the flask were two big pears. It seems that she tied the flask over a branch of pears 50 years ago and they grew in the flask. She added the calvados—applejack to you—and there it was. Very good and strong enough to knock your hat off.

The mayor in this town also came up with some liquor champagne, which was something like 80 years old...fine brown sweetish stuff bottled in Napoleon's time. His daughter was the liaison officer for the whole underground army in Brittany. She was a dowdy looking red head but with a lot of guts. She had just been released after two months in a Gestapo prison. They knew she was in the underground but couldn't prove anything. So they turned her loose just before the invasion.

There were a lot of tears and everyone kissed on both cheeks, and singing of the national anthem of both countries...very moving and sincere. However, after all the wine and liquor I consumed in two days, I really did need a rest when I got back. For the first time in I don't know when, I didn't have a birthday celebration. Worked all day, got into Falaise before it was captured. Narrowly missed being blown to hell by a mine and considerably shaken but came back with a good story.

The Germans are pulling out now, but no one knows exactly how far. They don't have a hell of a lot left in Western Europe, and with what the Russians are doing to them I don't think they can last long. However, they have created a lot of mad men who might do anything, including holding out until all of them are dead.

We're having some beautiful weather here and it has given the air forces time to do their stuff. They have been raising hell with the enemy. I've seen thousands of beat up German cars and trucks and carts. It's tough on the horses, and the stink is terrific in the forward areas. Also for the first time on the sector, the casualties are fairly light...don't see many bodies as formerly, which is good for everyone's morale. But there are more and more mines and booby traps and you have to watch your step more for them than any shells or mortars. Still a lot of snipers about, but no one pays much attention to them any more.

We probably will be moving forward pretty soon. Don't know exactly where, but I hope it will be in as nice a place as we have now. I hope to get into Paris, but it doesn't look like I'll cover the story of the fall of the city. I'm in the wrong army. Still there are other good stories on this front so I don't mind so much. They say there are something like five million people starving in Paris now. It shouldn't be too pleasant, but the reception should be terrific. It may be that we'll have to fight for the city which would be tragic. I hope the Germans are smart enough to pull out of it. Otherwise the reprisals will be greatly intensified, and they must be thinking of those now.

Anyway, we'll have to wait and see. I have some work to do now, and I think I have a bath lined up later. I still have the blasted hives. But most of the time I'm too busy to scratch. I want to take over Gene's insurance, but I don't know how I can arrange it from here. You take care of it and let me know the cost every six months or so and I'll forward the money. If you need dough for anything else, just whistle. Take care of yourself and give my love to everyone.

Love, 

Bill 

1944-45. Bill Downs From the Front During the War's Final Stages

Thoughts on Reporting from the Front Lines

The ellipses between paragraphs indicate the omission of details such as well wishes, mailing addresses, and similar information.

October 9, 1944

Dear Folks,

Well here I am back in London for a brief leave and to get some winter kit and enjoying it to no end, with only an occasional buzz bomb to disturb the atmosphere. I got fed up and tired after the Arnhem show and went to Paris for a couple of days. After that I came over here to get some wool underwear and stuff...am going back to Holland this week to see if we can't finish this thing off. I guess I had what you call "battle fatigue." Couldn't sleep nights, had nightmares and such stuff. But after some quiet and rest I'm okay again, although I still do not like the idea of going into Germany or of a winter campaign.

Paris is just as lovely as the songs and books say. There is no heat and hardly any transport except bicycles, but the women are just as beautiful and there are plenty of things like cosmetics and a style industry and such surprising peacetime industries that long ago disappeared from London. The people seem fairly well fed and, like Belgium, there is a tremendous black market that seems to have become part of the national economy. I was exceedingly depressed ten days ago by the course of events, political and military. After watching men die like they did and then to come back and suddenly realize that people behind the lines were carrying on as if nothing happened got me down. But there seems to be no way to make people realize what suffering and what sacrifices goes with war and I've about given up.

I'll be covering the Canadians and the British again, so you'll be hearing from me soon. There is so much to tell you that I don't know where to begin. So I'm afraid that we'll have to let it ride until later. I should be getting some home leave in the spring, and by that time maybe this thing will be ended. After that I suppose it is the Pacific for me. I am going to resume writing for Newsweek. They want some British coverage now, and you can watch for me in that magazine.

Oh yes, just before I left Eindhoven, two cartons of very welcome cigarettes arrived, one Chesterfield and the other Lucky Strike...keep them coming. The others should catch up with me sooner or later.

I'm sorry I haven't had time to write more often but I've been just too damn depressed to get it done, and moving all over the place the way I have has not given me time to sit down to a typewriter. However, I should have more time in the next couple of weeks and will keep you posted. Explain that to Bonnie and Glen and tell them I have their address somewhere. Take care of yourselves and keep writing.

Love,

Bill

____________________________________________________

October 21, 1944

Dear Folks,

Well, I'm back in Eindhoven again and more or less ready for the winter campaign. I'm feeling better than I did three weeks ago. They said I suffered from battle fatigue...another way of saying I was fed up with the war. I wasn't sick, just worn out after four months of steady campaigning since D-Day. Couldn't sleep and had nightmares when I did and that sort of thing.

Went to London where Ed Murrow took me in hand. Got into civilian clothing, read a half dozen books and lived in his apartment in normal surroundings and found that my morale went up 100 per cent. I'm still browned off by the complacency that exists in rear areas, and in America about the war. No one seems to realize just what the men over here are going through, and have yet to go through before this thing is done. But there seems little that we can do about it. Somehow, I feel responsible because it has been my job to report the bloody war and still no one seems to know what we're talking about.

Anyway, I had some rest and got myself some long underwear and woolen socks and am back at it again. The front is dull right now, and I am doing very little broadcasting. But should get to work soon I think.

. . .

I came back by way of Paris, and really you have to see the city to believe a place can be so beautiful. It's going to be a hard winter for all of Europe...lack of fuel and food. The only cheering thought is that it is going to be harder on the Germans than on us. We are beginning to run into the old atrocity stories again. I tried to tell them in Russia but no one paid any attention. Now we are finding the same Nazi prisons, the same torture weapons —with some improvements—and the same sad stories of persecution, execution, and privation by Hitler's bad boys. I don't suppose anyone will believe these stories either, although we are collecting and printing enough evidence to hang the whole German army.

It seems that the Presbyterian mind of the average American cannot accept the fact that any group of people can coolly sit down and decide to torture thousands of people. And if torture isn't enough, then to kill them as calmly as an ordinary person would swat a fly. This refusal to believe these facts is probably the greatest weapon the Nazis have, and it will operate in the post-war judgment of the Germans—wait and see. All of us more or less normal people will throw up our hands in horror even at the prosecution of the guilty —because there are so many guilty that we again will think that we are carrying on a pogrom when actually it is only making the Nazis pay for their crimes.

Unless it can be brought home as to what the Germans have done in Europe—the cruelty and ruthlessness and bestial killings and emasculations and dismemberment that has gone on—well, I'm afraid that we'll be too soft on them...

Maybe I've gone a little nuts on the subject, but this must absolutely be the last and final world war. I have seen too many terrible things to even imagine what our scientific invention will produce as the weapons of the next. The flying bomb was only a sample of the terror in store. The large scale use of this weapon means that our air forces—or any air forces—are completely outmoded. The aircraft as a bombing weapon is obsolete. Our only good fortune is that Hitler did not get it and other things into production sooner. As it is, he is too late. We hope.

But enough of preaching. I will stay up here as long there is a story. But I plan to dig into Brussels too, and perhaps alternate on a back area assignment with someone else...such as Paris and maybe London. Ed Murrow asked if I wanted to go to Stockholm. I turned it down because I couldn't see myself sitting comfortably there while this thing is going on. It may have been a good assignment, because there is a chance of some good stories breaking there.

Anyway, we are fairly comfortable here. We have lights and hot water although there is no heat. But lights and hot water are godsends in this country, and we're sticking to them.

I think I'll be okay when I get back to work again. And don't worry about me, because I haven't even caught the colds that are wandering about. Army rations may be boring, but they are healthy and I have enough clothing to keep me warm through a dozen winters.

Still, I'm optimistic about the end of the war. I feel that Germany cannot stand up under cold and lack of fuel and food and arms and everything else she needs to fight us and the Russians. Wait until the Red Army gets rolling this winter and I believe that we won't have much quarrel with the Nazis. They are going to be tough to root out of their holes, but they know they will be rooted out no matter what. And I think sooner than expected.

Anyway, we'll have to wait and see...I hope to god I'm right.

. . .

Take care of yourselves...I certainly intend to.

Love,

Bill

____________________________________________________

November 18, 1944

Dear Folks,

We've had a couple of minor attacks the past week that have kept us busy, but outside of that there has been very little going on. I've been doing some work for Newsweek during the lull...wonder if you have seen any of it?

Spirits have been better here the past couple of days. The sun actually has come out for the first time in two weeks. No kidding, this Dutch weather is about the worst that I have come across. It's like living in the tropics only it's cold as hell...just wet though. Everyone is more or less settled down for a long winter campaign. Christ, the number of times I wished I was in Florida where at least the sun is not afraid to shine.

. . .

We have a nice mess fixed up here in a big house. Someone located a couple of cases of cognac the other day and we've built a bar to house it. The stuff comes in handy after a day in a cold jeep and wading around the gawdawful mud here. These Dutch towns are pretty at first, but they begin to pall after a time. The people aren't unfriendly...just uninteresting and not very enthusiastic. After a while you find yourself while you're not working just sitting around doing nothing. I've been reading about three books a week.

All in all I'm afraid it is going to be an unpleasant winter. I hope to get transferred to Paris for a spell there at SHAEF. Ed Murrow is due over here next week and I'm going to put it up to him. This is really a secondary story now and I want more work to do.

I'm afraid that I have little to talk about today. Feeling a little tired. I spent eight hours in my jeep yesterday and am now taking it easy for a while.

Keep writing all the news and take care of yourselves.

Love,

Bill

____________________________________________________

December 6, 1944

Dear Folks,

Sorry for the delay in writing but I've made another trip back to London. Ed Murrow has returned to the States for Xmas and I'm helping around the office while he is gone. I should be going back to the continent in another couple of weeks and relieving someone else who wants to get out of the mud for a while.

The British and Canadian front has been quiet for the past month and as you know there has been little but minor attacks going on. Looks now like we are going to have to wait until spring before we can end this up.

. . .

Larry LeSueur is filling in on the British Second Army for me while I am gone and he'll be screaming for a replacement soon so I'll be back there I suppose. I have been thinking about making a deal to go to the Pacific, but maybe that is a little too soon for that war. I only hope to hell that we can get this thing over with soon. I'm getting fed up with it.

London looks the same as always. The food is better and it really is good to get back to civilization. I'm getting a lot of reading in, seeing some movies and hearing some concerts.

I'm hoping to get back in the spring, but if this thing blows up about that time, God only knows how long I'll be. There are three guys who have vacations coming before me, and there is the Pacific show. All in all, everything seems to be pretty much in the air. On top of that, my contract comes up for renewal in the spring and I must see about that. Probably can handle that from here.

At any rate, I want to come home as quick as possible. I've never yet been homesick, but there is every sign that I'm approaching the starting point. Just fed up I guess. Still I've got to stick this out...and I want to. It is this sitting around that drives you nuts.

Anyway, I'll probably be talking to you from the front again soon so take care of yourselves. Keep writing.

Love,

Bill

 ____________________________________________________

January 18, 1945

Dear Folks,

I have a few minutes time waiting for a broadcast and thought I would drop you a line. Nothing much to write about...weather continues to be miserable and the war continues to go in our favor despite it. I have been feeling okay. For some reason or another I refuse to catch a cold, although I spend about six hours a day in the pneumonia wagons, as we call jeeps these days.

Incidentally, do you remember Colonel Underwood, the blond headed screwball who used to be publicity man for the Lexington Hotel? I believe both of you met him in New York. He took Mom out on the town.

Anyway, he showed up in Spa where I am now living. It was quite a surprise and we had a large evening. He's with the counterintelligence corps as a special agent tracing down Nazis behind our lines or something like that. Evidently doing a good job of it. He has the rating of Sergeant but everyone still calls him Colonel to the great confusion of all concerned.

Still I don't know if I am going to get home leave this spring. If this thing shows signs of dragging on a long time, I might have a chance for a month or so. But if it breaks wide open again I'll stay, of course.

Chris Cunningham, another screwball who I believe you met in NY—he was the black-haired little Irishman who ran with Dickinson and I—he is with the First Army too and currently is living with me in the villa. We have been more or less working together at the front...but my having to get back in time for broadcasts makes it difficult.

Right now I have much more work than I can make a good job of doing. I am the only CBS man right now covering the Canadian First Army, the British Second Army, the American Ninth Army, and the American First Army. I keep telling the office that it's stretching me pretty thin, so I may get some help pretty soon.

. . .

Love,

Bill

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February 3, 1945

Dear Folks,

I've got a few minutes before a broadcast. I've just returned from Brussels where I had a series of conferences with some big shots, and they seem to think that the war is just about over. But they were thinking the same thing six months ago and I'm a little confused by it all. However, I guess it is as close to over as it ever has been, and the sooner the better. The Russians always have been the key to victory and now they are proving it.

We have been working hard on this front, and as the troops drive eastward through the Siegfried, we are going to have to work that much harder. It might be that I'll get home this summer after all. But don't plan on anything. I won't believe it myself until it happens.

Nothing much in the way of local news to tell you. I'm feeling fine. So far have avoided catching cold, although I have damn near frozen my feet a couple of times. Chris Cunningham and I still have our fur lined foxhole here and it is very comfortable, although we have to keep on the scrounge for coal. Incidentally, coal over here sells for something like 400 dollars a ton...no kidding. Needless to say, we do not buy it at that price.

. . .

We have had a thaw here the past three or four days, and it now is muddy as hell. There doesn't seem to be any brand of perfect weather for wars. It's either too cold, too hot, too wet, or too dusty to fight comfortably. However it will be a welcome change to get out of these hills and into Germany where the country is more flat and you don't have to wonder what is waiting for you over every hill. Still, I suppose that by then we'll be wondering whether there is a sniper in every building.

. . .

Love,

Bill

____________________________________________________

February 14, 1945

Dear Folks,

. . .

Nothing much here in the way of news. Went up to the Canadian sector last week to have a look at their new offensive. Got a couple of good stories but have returned to the First Army again and hope we will soon have something to write about. It has been quiet around here as you know. Optimism continues to soar, but no one is sticking their necks out before this thing is over. We had too much of the wrong kind of optimism a few months ago.

Incidentally, a couple of months ago I sent a package of souvenirs home. It contained a swastika flag, a Nazi dress dagger, and a few other odds and ends. Let me know if and when it arrives. I want you to keep them for me. I went to a hell of a lot of trouble to get them.

. . .

I'm beginning to gain some weight again...have to get some exercise I guess. Riding hours on end—and I mean end—in a bouncing jeep serves only to exercise the posterior. Everyone around here is developing what we call jeep kidney. You can practically feel it rattle around inside of you, and the number of times you have to go to the can is marvelous. The weather here is getting warmer, but the resultant thaw has mud hip deep to a tall squaw. I check my feet every night to see if they are getting webbed.

I've been needling the office about home leave but there seems to be little chance now until this thing is over. Don't want to leave now anyway if there is a chance of missing out on the payoff. Will let you know if there are any changes.

Someone was telling me that the pictures taken of John Wilhelm's wedding in Maastricht have appeared in Life. You'll find me among those present, I think, probably kissing the bride. However, that is no criterion. I don't always going around kissing other men's wives—especially if the husband is standing there watching.

Gotta go now. Let me know when the package I sent arrives. And thanks again for the cigarettes.

Love,

Bill

_____________________________________________________

February 26, 1945

Dear Folks,

Just came from the front and am kind of tired. Glad to know everyone's safe back from Florida...also that the stuff I sent arrived. I don't go in much for souvenirs except good ones.

I've been working kind of hard now that we have started moving again. Went down and saw the kickoff of the new offensive. It was one of the most fearsome spectacles I've ever witnessed. I think that 45 minute barrage must have convinced a lot of Germans.

Anyway, I hope I don't have to watch any more of them. Everyone is in great spirits and we made five miles today. Beginning to get very close to the Rhine. Then we'll see what the Nazis are going to do. Only thing about it is that I'm afraid that the front is getting so far away we'll have to leave this beautiful place and move into what is left of Germany. No kidding, I thought that I had seen destruction before, but this matches anything I've seen in Russia. There simply is not an undamaged house in this part of the Reich.

We have run into very few civilians. Those we see usually have small children. Germans or not, you can't help feeling sorry for the kids. It is one case where the sins of the fathers are visited on the following generation. Maybe this one can do something about it.

Opposition thus far is surprisingly light...not even too many mines...and we've suffered very few casualties. However I think it will get worse before it gets better. I'm no Pollyanna anymore. I'm feeling tired, and if this letter sounds depressing it's because I've spent something like seven hours in a jeep today. That saps most of the energy out of you to begin with. I'm having trouble with a tooth that an army doctor filled in for me last month. Outside of that, my health is tops.

After this particular series of battles winds up I think I'll buck for a rest in Paris, although if this thing looks like it's getting somewhere I want to stay on. That's the hell of it. If you leave, you're afraid that something will happen.

. . .

Gotta go now and get some sleep. Have to go back to the front tomorrow. Maybe we'll have a chance to see Cologne in the distance.

Love,

Bill

____________________________________________________

March 8, 1945

Dear Folks,

Just a line during a very, very busy period. We have just about cleaned up the story on the fall of Cologne. A more ruined place I have never seen. 45,000 tons of bombs. The people are a little slap happy as you might expect. They are now all of our friends. Not a Nazi in the bunch. They almost tried to give us a welcome like the French and Belgians. These people are beaten and know it.

It was an easy entry...lot of snipers around. All those ruins make it a ghost city...wouldn't want to walk around it on a bright moonlight. Still a lot of corpses that haven't been buried. People didn't even have transport for that. There are a lot of German men in civilian clothing who are trying to fool us that they were never in the army. But we are fooling very hard these days.

It's just about a four hour drive to Cologne, so it means that we spend just about 8 hours a day in a jeep. I think one of my kidneys have come loose from its bracket already.

I was looking at a house near Cologne the other day and saw something move in a room. We went into the house and there was a perplexed parrot sort of pacing up and down a ruined rafter. We found his cage in the rubble and brought him back with us. We've named him Adolf but he can't talk, even German. All he does is whistle and crow like a rooster and make noises like a streetcar. We were going to keep him as a mascot, but no one wants to take care of the bird. I cleaned out his cage the first day, and I know damn well I don't want to spend this war wet nursing a parrot. I think we'll be able to give him away.

We'll be moving our camp into Germany soon...should have done it a long time ago. It will be grim, but nothing could be as bad as eight hours in a jeep.

I gotta go now. We've got still another German town that is going to fall. Have to be there and for the bigger news that we hope will come later.

Take care of yourselves. See you later.

Love,

Bill

____________________________________________________

March 30, 1945

Dear Folks,

Didn't mean to, but the past six weeks have been so busy what with the Rhine crossings and everything, that I really haven't had a chance to write. Right now I am living in Germany and am back with the British Second Army after a brief bit of work in Paris and a flight on the Wesel crossing of the Rhine. But since I did the Remagen bridge crossing, just too damn much has been happening not to work. I have done a lot of broadcasting, so I assumed that you weren't worried about me.

The news is tremendously good again, and I hope that we really will have a quick victory this time. However, every time I have an optimistic feeling about it, I stifle the thought at birth. I don't want to be wrong this time. But the way the Germans are folding where they're suppose to fight, it looks like this is the real thing. Still, I'm counting no victory hangovers prematurely. I hope that by the time you get this the issue will be settled.

. . .

It is all set for me to go to the Pacific. Ed Murrow returned from home a couple of weeks ago. He and I will be the only ones from the European Theater. However, I should have a few months in the States first and am sweating those out as soon as this thing folds up completely over here.

Incidentally, I took this British assignment because I thought that sooner or later it is going to be an important front. It has to be because Churchill and everyone sees political importance in having British troops in on the kill. And I want to see that kill. So I should be all right up here, although you probably won't be hearing from me quite as often.

. . .

Love,

Bill

1953. The Life and Times of a Radio Reporter

Downs is Assigned to Rome

Bill Downs reporting for CBS

From CBS Radio, December 3, 1953:

The Life and Times of a Radio Reporter

By BILL DOWNS

(CBS Radio correspondent Bill Downs has been assigned to Rome after a couple of years in Washington, D.C. Before leaving for his new assignment, Downs reminisced on the life of a radio correspondent. His text, broadcast on "News and News Analysis" follows:)

It was during the Thanksgiving season some 13 years ago that an editor called us in and said "Here's your passport. Go over and cover the London Blitz."

In those days, there still was evidence of Kansas straw behind the ears, and the prospect of becoming a foreign correspondent was more frightening than glamorous. However, it wasn't much of a task moving...pack one suitcase with everything you owned, grab a typewriter and go.

That was the way it was for the next seven years...everything you owned you could carry, be it in a suitcase or military duffel-bag.

It was a good and exciting life, with assignments around the world. And then this correspondent got married. Shortly thereafter, another foreign assignment—this time to cover the Berlin airlift and blockade—came along. Still, we were in pretty good shape; could still maneuver with two suitcases, a typewriter and small case in which the bride could carry make-up and perfume.

We spent two years in Berlin, during which time a son was born. And when we eventually returned to this country, there were three suitcases, a trunk, bottles and bottle-warmers...and of course, a baby. A foreign correspondent finds it impossible to be glamorous and at the same time juggle a sterilizer.

We settled down here in Washington...and sure enough, along came another addition, a daughter this time.

And a month or so ago arrived another foreign assignment, this time to Rome.

For the past four weeks, in order to become a foreign correspondent again, we have been a real estate man, an automobile salesman, diplomat, handy-man, junk assorter and baggage buster.

Where once a single suitcase did the job, it now takes two wardrobe trunks, four suitcases and various and assorted bags and briefcases to make the move. There has to be a paregoric for queasy stomach, dramamine for seasickness, picture books for the boring moments, favorite dolls to combat loneliness, and castor oil for all emergencies.

There was the getting up at 5:30 in the morning to sneak the dog out to be shipped to grandparents to avoid the crisis of separating him from the kids. And, of course, new passports, air and sea reservations and the million worries of such an expedition.

When the Downs safari sets out, the ghost of Trader Horn will turn from white to green with envy.

We hope you'll pardon our being personal, but this is our last appearance on this news and analysis spot which we have held down for the past two and a half years. Over this period, we have spent our weekends talking with you, and, I suppose, sometimes AT you. And for the most part you have been kind, probably more kind than I deserve.

During this two and a half years, we have been called many things, including a Communist, for calling the shots as we saw them. We have done reports that afterwards we knew were not as good as they should have been. And we've done others that we are still pretty proud of.

But always there was an appreciation of the effort, and no reporter could ask for more.

It should also be said here, that no matter how controversial the subject or how sensitive the material, never, repeat never, has the management of the Columbia Broadcasting System or of CBS Radio News attempted to censor or influence the content of any broadcast. Such confidence has to be lived up to.

Replacing me on the Saturday and Sunday "World Tonight" program is Bill Costello, a lean gentleman from Minnesota who has made the world his beat, is an expert on the Far East, and who most recently has covered the White House. We covered the Korean war together in our most recent foreign assignment together. You'll find, as I did, he is a challenging and intelligent individual. He'll call the shots as he sees them too.

So, thanks for listening...I'll be broadcasting to you from the Mediterranean area for the next couple of years.

This is Bill Downs saying goodbye from Washington.

1944. Bill Downs Visits Mont-Saint-Michel

Updates from France

Mont-Saint-Michel on August 8, 1944 (source)

In 1944 Bill Downs took some leave from covering the Western Front on the weekend of Friday, August 11 to Sunday, August 13. In this letter home he describes his experiences:

August 20, 1944

Dear Folks,

I finally got my two days leave. Went to a paradise called Mont-Saint-Michel off the Brittany coast. Fantastic place. One island used to be a monastery in the 10th century and now caters to tourists. The people were still celebrating their liberation, and champagne and wine and brandy flow like water. Wonderful food and omelettes as big as a platter.

The press gravitated to it naturally, like flies to honey. Saw a lot of the boys and met Ernest Hemingway, who is now gathering information for another book about the French underground. He is quite a character and a very nice guy. The French people treated us like kings.

It is different in the American sector than the British. The towns are intact, and the people haven't lost their homes, so they suffered little. The head of the resistance movement in one town was a little guy who was the town veterinarian. He had spent the past four years blowing up German trains, cutting their telephone wires and such. He seemed almost sorry that he had to go back to treating horses and cows after all the excitement. His mother-in-law brought out some 50-year-old calvados for us to drink. It was in a wide bottomed flask with a narrow neck, and inside the flask were two big pears. It seems that she tied the flask over a branch of pears 50 years ago and they grew in the flask. She added the calvados—applejack to you—and there it was. Very good and strong enough to knock your hat off.

The mayor in this town also came up with some liquor champagne, which was something like 80 years old—fine brown sweetish stuff bottled in Napoleon's time. His daughter was the liaison officer for the whole underground army in Brittany. She was a dowdy looking red head but with a lot of guts. She had just been released after two months in a Gestapo prison. They knew she was in the underground but couldn't prove anything. So they turned her loose just before the invasion.

There were a lot of tears and everyone kissed on both cheeks, and singing of the national anthem of both countries. Very moving and sincere. However, after all the wine and liquor I consumed in two days, I really did need a rest when I got back. For the first time in I don't know when, I didn't have a birthday celebration. Worked all day, got into Falaise before it was captured. Narrowly missed being blown to hell by a mine and considerably shaken but came back with a good story.

The Germans are pulling out now, but no one knows exactly how far. They don't have a hell of a lot left in Western Europe, and with what the Russians are doing to them I don't think they can last long. However, they have created a lot of mad men who might do anything, including holding out until all of them are dead.

We're having some beautiful weather here and it has given the air forces time to do their stuff. They have been raising hell with the enemy. I've seen thousands of beat up German cars and trucks and carts. It's tough on the horses, and the stink is terrific in the forward areas. Also for the first time on the sector, the casualties are fairly light; don't see many bodies as formerly, which is good for everyone's morale. But there are more and more mines and booby traps and you have to watch your step more for them than any shells or mortars. Still a lot of snipers about, but no one pays much attention to them any more.

We probably will be moving forward pretty soon. Don't know exactly where, but I hope it will be in as nice a place as we have now. I hope to get into Paris, but it doesn't look like I'll cover the story of the fall of the city. I'm in the wrong army. Still there are other good stories on this front so I don't mind so much. They say there are something like five million people starving in Paris now. It shouldn't be too pleasant, but the reception should be terrific. It may be that we'll have to fight for the city, which would be tragic. I hope the Germans are smart enough to pull out of it. Otherwise the reprisals will be greatly intensified, and they must be thinking of those now.

Anyway, we'll have to wait and see. I have some work to do now, and I think I have a bath lined up later. I still have the blasted hives. But most of the time I'm too busy to scratch. I want to take over Gene's insurance, but I don't know how I can arrange it from here. You take care of it and let me know the cost every six months or so and I'll forward the money. If you need dough for anything else, just whistle. Take care of yourself and give my love to everyone.

Love, 

Bill