(The following story by Bill Jones appeared on The Tribune-Democrat website on January 12.)
JOHNSTOWN, Pa. — The train had covered about 50 miles in eight hours, stopping at several villages and rarely moving as fast as 10 mph. It was pulled by an aged British locomotive and had its 45 cars crammed with American soldiers and equipment bound for a staging area and then the front.
Suddenly, the train began to pick up speed, and many of the soldiers cheered – moving at last. But the speed kept increasing. The old wooden cars began to sway and wheels rocked off the rails briefly.
The whistle wailed its warning, but few of the Americans realized the danger.
Crash!
The locomotive crashed through a barricade at the end of the rail line in St. Valery-en-Caux, France, went across a street and through the brick station and out the opposite side.
Troop cars piled up, some 10 high, and 89 Americans died. Another 152 received permanent injuries with many losing arms and legs.
That was 63 years ago next Thursday, at the height of World War II.
George Shirk of Vintondale was aboard the train with the 1471st Engineer Maintenance Company and lives with an undying memory of that moment of horror.
He has been striving for years to get the U.S. government to honor those who died in the crash, but officially the crash never happened. There was an elaborate cover-up, but that’s getting ahead of the story.
“As severe and nasty as it was, the U.S. government hasn’t admitted it ever happened,” Shirk said. “This has stuck in my craw for 60 years. I’ve written to everybody, including Rep. Jack Murtha, and nobody would do anything.”
Shirk was born in Johnstown Oct. 4, 1923, one of seven children of George and Mamie Shirk. He entered the Army May 22, 1943, and sailed for France from New York City on Jan. 1, 1945, aboard the troop ship Henry Gibbons. Their destination was the harbor at La Havre, France.
On board were the highly trained 782nd Tank Battalion, the 134th Evacuation Hospital, the 565th Quartermaster Railhead Company, the 553rd Ambulance Company and Shirk’s 1471st Engineers.
“We were seasick for 14 days,” Shirk said. “Before we went into La Havre we sat in the English Channel. One ship moved around us and it hit an enormous mine. It lifted that ship, big as it was, completely out of the water. We could see beneath it.
“It came down, and in less than five minutes it was gone.”
After docking at night, the hospital unit that included doctors and nurses was moved out first by truck. The other units were marched to the railway station and loaded in cars known as “40 and eights.” During World War I they had been used to carry 40 soldiers and eight horses or mules.
The train crew resisted moving it, because it was in such poor condition, but the U.S. Army ordered it to move. In a written account, Sgt. Lowell Sell of Ohio said:
“We had heard that Gen. Patton was in desperate need of replacements due to recent heavy losses, as the Battle of the Bulge was winding down. He had sent a colonel to the port of La Havre to meet a tank replacement company that was vitally needed at the front lines, and they were on our train.
“Initially,” Sell wrote, “the crew refused to drive this train as it was in poor repair. The brakes were worn out, the engine had no acceleration gauge or speedometer, as well as other undependable items of equipment. However, the colonel ordered – at gunpoint – the French crew to get the train under way.”
Shirk blames Maj. Gen. Frank S. Ross, who was in charge of military transportation in Europe during World War II, who had the ultimate decision as to whether Troop Train 2980 should leave La Havre in its condition. He believes the cover-up after the wreck was to cover for the general, rather than to keep the Germans from taking consolation in American losses.
“As the train went up the grade on the other side from St. Valery, several of us got out and walked alongside the train, it was going so slowly,” Shirk said.
“When it started down the other side, it picked up speed. I don’t know how fast it was going when it hit the station. It could have been 60 or 70 mph.
“After hours of moving 10 mph, I had moved out of the corner of the car I was in and moved into the center. The fellow who moved into that corner where I had been standing, well the whole angle rod that ran down (supported) that corner went right through that man’s back.
“The cars crumpled up like riding in a matchbox. I was thrown out. All I got done the rest of the day was help get the dead and injured out. We worked for a good four hours before they gave us orders to get into trucks and they hauled us to Camp Lucky Strike, a staging camp.
“I saw the first human being changed from white to black. The rails and ties had been bent up in an arc and soldiers were thrown under them. Then they came down and crushed those bodies so severely the pressure changed them to black.
“A lieutenant was trapped and a soldier cut off his leg with a penknife. I carried the lieutenant out. He asked me to light a cigarette for him and I did. He smoked it and I went back to help getting out the guys injured and already dead. I don’t know what happened to the lieutenant.
“The day we were there dragging bodies out, the Military Police showed up and confiscated all of the cameras, from GIs and the French alike. They wanted to cover up the whole thing. A few pictures taken by French people did escape them and get out later.
“I wasn’t hurt in the wreck, but the next day all of my hair came out. I was writing a letter and rubbed my head and all of my hair came out. I didn’t get it back until much later.”
His engineer unit was attached to the Seventh Army and had a lot to do. They crossed southern France, Germany, Austria and back into Germany. The war in Europe was over in May 1945 and Shirk was discharged April 1, 1946.
Shirk had married the former Joyce Homola of Lorain Borough Nov. 7, 1944. They have five daughters, five grandchildren and five great-grandchildren.
Shirk worked for Bethlehem Steel, 30 years as a chemist and five as a turn foreman. The family lived in Southmont for 17 years, but bought the 327-acre Long Road Farm outside Vintondale in 1967 because their daughters wanted horses.
They grew corn and grain until George decided it was too expensive to farm. They still have eight quarterhorses including the reigning Cambria County Fair grand champion and reserve grand champion.
To date, the government has done nothing to honor those who died Jan. 17, 1945, in a train wreck that could have been prevented. The lone plaque at the rebuilt station in St. Valenty was erected by the French.