D-Day Remembered: A first-hand account from former ‘Higgins Boat’ driver

June 05--In October of 2012, I had the honor of sitting beside one of our World War II veterans on the return trip of our inaugural Texas South Plains Honor Flight. When then-87-year-old Harold Schultze began to tell his story, I knew I should get my notepad out and start writing.

Harold was born in Monroe, Louisiana, on Sept. 21, 1925. His family moved to Birmingham, Alabama, where he entered the Coast Guard in September 1943 when he turned 18 years old. Six weeks of boot camp training would be at St. Augustine, Florida, followed by Camp Lejune in North Carolina for maneuver training as a coxswain (driver) on an LCVP (Landing Craft, Vehicle, Personnel).

The LCVP (the military's term) was often called a "Higgins Boat," named after the designer and builder, Andrew Higgins, in the 1930s. The craft could operate in a mere 18 inches of water and could easily land its bow ashore and back out to deeper waters. It could travel at a speed of 12 knots (14 mph). Higgins started selling the boats to the U.S. Coast Guard, which helped him establish a rapport with the American military. The craft could hold a crew of 3 or 4 personnel and up to 36 tightly packed troops or a jeep and 12 troops.

The boat was held in such high esteem, that several high-ranking Allied service men credited Mr. Higgins with "winning the war." The former D-day Museum, now called the National WWII Museum, was opened in New Orleans on June 6, 2000, in honor of the Higgins boats.

As Schultze recalled, "We headed for Brooklyn, New York, and boarded the U.S.S. Bayfield, an attack transport ship. We joined a convoy headed for Scotland. We then shipped out for training on the east coast of England and did maneuvers until June 5 when we headed for Normandy and D-Day. We enjoyed our training but everyone was excited to get going."

With the Bayfield anchored off of Normandy, Harold's crew headed for Utah Beach with a load of troops.

"We didn't really take it too seriously until we started heading for the beach and the big 88s would go off. German fire was extremely heavy. As the driver, I would try to get to the beach and the bullets were hitting all around you, the ramp and everywhere. You think, 'a guy can get hurt out here.' It was hard watching those young men drop off into the water. They had over 50-pound backpacks and were trying to hold their rifles over their heads all while being under heavy fire. Often they couldn't get their footing and many of them drowned before even getting to the beach. These were some of the bravest men I have ever seen.

"We were the first landing craft at the beach. We hit a sand bar and the lieutenant told me to 'Drop the ramp.' I said, 'no, we don't drop the ramp now.' The lieutenant kept telling me to drop the ramp and I said, 'no, we are in 10–15 feet of water. If we drop the ramp now, you will all drown!' He apologized and didn't ask me again until we could get off the sandbar and move to shallow water."

Continuing, Schultze struggled to describe the scene. "The troops tried to run to shore. Some of them never touched the beach. Before they could even get solid footing, they would be shot."

During the first wave, Harold remembered seeing the beach when the ramp dropped. "It was a tangle of barbed wire and cement and all kinds of things to keep you from getting on the beach. You couldn't see any Germans; they were all up on the hill firing down on us."

Schultze had to do his duty and ignore the carnage and return time after time to the Bayfield to pick up another load of men. The worst part of his job he noted was to "remove the dog tags off of the dead soldiers floating in the water. That got to me. You eventually became numb to the sights and had to carry on but you could never forget."

During the attack, Schultze went 72 hours without sleep. He could land men on the beach, but since he was the driver, he couldn't get off. He noted that he "got awfully hungry. I was more hungry than sleepy. Who could sleep through all of that noise? The men got off to get some food, but I never got any. A storm came up preventing us from going back to the ship. It was raining hard the whole time. You couldn't stay dry at all. When I finally got untied from the dock, I went back out to find our ship. I had no idea where the thing was. I just knew it was out in the channel somewhere. I tied up to another landing craft and took it with me until I finally found our ship. When I got close, they dropped other people down to take over. I was wet, hungry and exhausted."

Harold's time in the war was not over.

He noted, "We then set sail for Naples then to Saint-Raphael in Southeast France. On Aug. 15, 1944, there was an air attack. I volunteered to go over the side and lay down a smoke screen. I was hit by a German anti-personnel bomb. The shrapnel hit the lower part of my body, breaking my leg and causing other wounds. I knew I was hurt but really didn't feel anything. But a chaplain came by and said, 'I think we ought to say a prayer.' I told him I'd already said one. He said, 'Then we ought to say another.' That's when I realized I was hurt more than I thought."

Schultze would receive a Purple Heart for his wounds and be offered the option of being discharged or remaining a ship driver. He opted for the discharge. He was treated for his wounds on the ship. He was shipped back to the states and spent several months in the Marine hospital in Norfolk, Virginia, finally getting discharged in June of 1945.

Schultze married Mildred Priestley in Ensley, Alabama, on Oct. 11, 1946, and moved to California and worked in the insurance business for 42 years. He and his family moved to Lubbock in 2004. He passed away on Dec. 29, 2018, at the age of 93.

I have been privileged to meet and interview so many of our area WWII veterans. We, as a nation, owe them so much for the freedom that we still enjoy today. I know Harold would want everyone to remember that day 75 years ago when so many of our nation's young men gave up their lives and their futures at Normandy.

In honor of Harold Schultze – Coast Guard "Higgins Boat" driver, only 18 years old on June 6, 1945.

Larry A. Williams is the veterans liaison co-chair for the Texas South Plains Honor Flight.

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