PRIVATE FIRST CLASS WALTER J. GARTLAND was the son or Henry J. and. Anna Gartland. Born in New Jersey in 1924, he was the third child, coming after Vera and Henry J. Jr, and before Arthur, In 1930 the family resided at 613 North 9th Street in Camden NJ, where the elder Gartland was employed as a crane operator at a foundry. The family later moved to 706 North 9th Street. The Gartland family were members of the Holy Name Catholic Church in North Camden, and Walter attended catholic schools, graduating from Camden Catholic High School. He then went to work for the Naval aircraft factory at the Philadelphia Navy Yard, prior to being inducted into the military on May 1, 1944 at Camden NJ. His Army enlistment records state he was residing in Bergen County NJ, and working as a machine operator, at the time of his induction. Assigned to the 69th Infantry Division, Walter J. Gartland trained at Camp Shelby MS with that unit before going overseas in November of 1944.
Walter Gartland was killed in action near Liepzig, Germany on April 16, 1945. He was survived by his mother, sister, and brothers. His body was returned to New Jersey after the war.
Trespass Against Them
History of The 271st Infantry Regiment
Written by Lt. John F. Higgins, 2nd Bn, wherabouts unknown.
A copy of "TRESPASS AGAINST THEM" as printed in Germany in 1945 and issued to 271st INFANTRY REGIMENT members is no longer available to our knowledge. The Unit History here is the Text portion only from "TRESPASS AGAINST THEM" covering about 25 pages. Casualties, Decorations, Command Post Locations, Towns and cities captured, Statistics, Leaders and Units Attached bring the total pages to 92.
This booklet is reprinted here up to the date of PFC Gartland's death. It can be read in its entirety at http://www.69th-infantry-division.com/histories/271.html.
history of the 271st United States Infantry is respectfully dedicated
to Major General Emil F. Reinhardt, Commanding General of the 69th
these pages is the history of an infantry regiment of particular
interest to us since it is our own, the 271st Regiment of the Fighting
69th Division. A history
often leaves much to the reader’s imagination in its necessarily
brief mention of persons, places and events, especially when the
reader has had so vital a part of its making.
Your memory, which can never be left behind, will fill in the
details that are not inscribed on these pages.
all of us, it is a story of years, places, events, hard work, good
fun, comradeship, common cause, individual and collective courage,
danger, and hard-won success; in short, a summation of the efforts of
a group in the cause of a nation.
It tells of the men you knew; men from every state of the
Union, every walk of life, participating in the accomplishment of an
enormous undertaking, nourished by a glorious national tradition,
bonded together in the sublimity of their purpose.
It is typical of the annals of any group of our Armed Forces in
that it portrays a part of the courage, the initiative, the ability,
the tenacity that our enemies failed to take into account when they
labeled us “soft and decadent.”
important thing about it to us is that it represents a part of the war
that we know first-hand, the part that will live with us long after
Time has obscured the full magnitude of operations.
It tells why, in future years, when people speak of the war as
a tremendous undertaking, anyone who has been a member of this
regiment may proudly say: “Yes, I know!”
15 May 1943, a new division, the 69th, was activated at Camp Shelby,
Miss. One of its
regiments, the 271st, was born the same day, and this is its story to
date. Every soldier, no
matter what his present desire, Army career or civilian life, will
long remember the outfit with which he went to war.
Perhaps these are some of the things that will come to your
mind at the American Legion Convention many years hence, when someone
asks you what outfit you were in.
Shelby, Mississippi! Who
will ever forget it? That
place could get so cold in the winter and so hot in the summer!
For over 17 months, we lived and trained there, among the woods
and chiggers, in the dust and mud of good old DeSoto National Forest,
until many began to think that all the world was Mississippi, and that
Hattiesburg was the capital of the world.
You could get a good steak in Hattiesburg for about three
dollars and a quart of blood, and living space was adequate if you
were lucky enough to have a trailer or a tent.
69th will never leave Shelby!”
byword must have been put out by the Hattiesburg Chamber of Commerce
to give its citizens some good excuse for living there!
It reminds you of the man who kept saying to the end: “They
can’t do this to me!”
is a proven fact that no division in the Army got more or better
training than we did. A
great many of our officers and men have been with the outfit since it
was activated. But who is
there among us who can forget how we got that old B.B.B. nickname?
It seemed that you’d just about be getting used to sleeping
in a bunk, and your chigger bites would be healing a bit, when someone
would announce that we were getting “garrison bound,” and off
we’d go to the woods again. Oh
well, in the light of later developments, we were grateful for the
experience we’d had.
time spent in Shelby netted us many lasting friendships and pleasant
associations. Also not to
be overlooked is the fact that the “Southerner” ran through
Hattiesburg, and there was always New Orleans.
was on 31 October 1944 that we crawled out from under a mountain of
equipment and sank down in a Pullman chair for a last look at Camp
Shelby. Reactions to the
parting were mixed and varied. There
were those who had been there so long that they would actually miss
such landmarks as Lake Shelby, Highway 49, O.P. 5, Whiskey Creek, the
red-scarred hill, and the “lone pine tree.”
Some welcomed the move, as the start of a new adventure, the
culmination of our extended training.
There would be no more “D” Series, no more Biloxi Bounce,
nor Hattiesburg bus lines. This
was the point at which we were to start the long trek to a fighting
where were we going? The
Pullman porter knew, but like all railroad employees, he was the
vaguest source of information, and there remained only the usual
unimpeachable channels of latrine rumors.
It wasn’t long, however, before word started spreading from
car to car that we were doing the “Jersey Bounce!”
The Yankees in the crowd started immediately to expound on the
merits of New Jersey, with assurances to all who had never been there
that they were now to see how the “other half” lived.
It was true. We
were on the way to Camp Kilmer, near New Brunswick, and the prospect
was thrilling to those lucky individuals who happened to live in the
vicinity. The trip was
pleasant, with the usual troop train diversions.
Some played cards, others sat and talked; some just sat.
The food was good, and the Pullman bunks were clean and
first group of the regiment arrived at Kilmer early the morning of 2
November, and all during the day, the balance of the command arrived.
To the accompaniment of some lively music, we marched to the
two-story barracks that were to be our home for the next few days.
Almost immediately began the overseas orientation schedule, and
it was amazing to note the efficiency with which the many details were
the cargo nets, the lifeboat drill, the lectures on censorship, the
procedure in case of capture, the introduction to the Army’s new
type of gas mask, etc.? Or
who will forget that physical exam, where they passed you by an
electric bulb, and if they couldn’t see through you, the seal of
approval was put on your forehead, the equivalent of a free ticket for
an ocean trip.
the many good features of Kilmer, its most appealing was its proximity
to New York, just 20-odd miles away.
Remember those passes to the big city?
Time Square, the Village, the Music Hall, and the way you
skidded through the gates in Penn. Station for that 5 a.m. train back
to Kilmer…There was so much to do and so little time in which to do
it…Take a last look; pour down that last scotch and soda…It may be
a long time. It was even
harder for those who had been able to get home and had to say the last
farewell when the last pass neared its expiration hour.
But this was what we had been training for.
14 November, we again boarded a train, but this time it was a very
short trip; in fact so short that it almost wasn’t worthwhile to get
out of the GI harness, since they were soon lining us up to get off.
Next a ferry ride, but without the familiar atmosphere of the
accordion player and considerably less comfortable.
Across the river, amid much speculation as to where we were
headed, we finally pulled in at Pier 44, where they added insult to
injury by having a band play “Somebody Else Is Taking My Place.”
The Red Cross was on hand to pass out coffee and sinkers to
those who still had strength enough to hold up the cup.
Beside us was a large ocean liner, dark and gray in the night.
It was at this time that all who had the hot tip on the
“Queen Mary” paid off their bets, and we all struggled up the
gangplank of the MS John Ericcson.
Formerly the Swedish luxury liner Kungsholm, she was to be our
home for several days. The
ship was spacious and well planned as a trooper, so that there was no
confusion as the men were rapidly assigned to their quarters.
A new and thrilling experience for most of us, and about this
time, we began to wonder if the 69th would ever leave Shelby!
assigned and quickly oriented to the need of wearing lifejackets, we
put the weary bones to bed on canvas cots, which were in four tiers
and strung in every possible place.
It was not until 0600 the next morning that we set sail, and in
the gray mist of early morning, we saw the familiar and beloved
skyline of New York drop from view.
Through the Narrows, and out into open water, where we were
soon joined by many other ships that were to be in our convoy.
One had only to look around at these vessels to be impressed
with the stupendous shipping problem that war presented and be struck
with the efficiency with which the problem was being met.
of us who had been landlubbers all our life were soon tossing coins to
decide which was port and which was starboard, and trying hard not to
look too lost when someone said something about the “Liberty two
points off the port bow.” It
wasn’t long before the gulls began to drop back, and we came to
realize that the ocean was a pretty large place.
aboard ship was fun, although the first few days, there were many
subscribers to the idea that all the world should be land.
Several green complexions and “I-don’t-care-if-I-die”
expressions were noted about the third day out when we hit a rough
sea. A lot of those
fellows whom you saw bent over the rail were not looking for fish.
And you remember how training was conducted for those hardy
souls who were still able to sit up.
In one corner you’d see a group dutifully listening to the
voice that was telling them how much beer they could buy for a
shilling, and if you stumbled further down the deck through the mass
of humanity, it was common to see a bunch of puzzled faces and
unwilling mouths trying to “parlez Francais” in a few not-so-easy
they had Ship’s Inspection each day.
There were so many people in the inspecting party that it was
hard to tell where today’s inspection ended and tomorrow’s began!
You couldn’t stay on deck – they were cleaning it; you
couldn’t go below – they were inspecting it; and the crew’s
quarters were off limits. That
left one alternative, namely jumping overboard.
It’s a good thing we were following the southern route; it
was easier to swim alongside the ship during an inspection.
was our first opportunity to buy cigarettes for a nickel a pack, and
maybe you think the men didn’t stock up.
How many of us shed a sympathetic tear for the civilians at
home who couldn’t buy them at any price.
Special Service did a fine job on board ship, showing movies,
putting on shows, arranging religious services, providing recreational
facilities, and in general, making things as pleasant as possible for
the men. The food was
good, and on Thanksgiving Day, we were pleasantly surprised to find
turkey and all the trimmings awaiting the lusty appetites that the
salt air had given us. It
was a memorable meal.
for excitement during the trip, there wasn’t any, other than the
thrill of standing on deck in the evening and watching the white
phosphorus in the cleaved water alongside the ship, or feeling the
tang of the sea air against your face.
Almost made you understand the mariner’s devotion to the sea.
One evening, a brightly lighted hospital ship passed near our
convoy, and another time, several depth charges were dropped by the
escorting naval vessels, shaking our ship considerably and making the
men in the lower deck compartments wonder if their nickname,
“Torpedo Junction,” might not be too far from the truth.
10th day out, gulls were sighted, and we knew that land could not be
too far off. Our
destination had already been announced, so that everyone was eager for
his first glimpse of England. On
the morning of 26 November, land was sighted, and we were soon passing
the beautiful Isle of Wight, in southern England.
From here on, it was impossible to keep the men from the rails,
as no one wanted to miss a moment of it.
Remember all those landing barges we saw as we approached
Southampton? Could anyone
help thinking of all the men who had recently used them to storm the
citadel of Hitler’s Europe?
say that England has two seasons, winter and August.
We missed August. It
was cold as we debarked at Southampton on 27 November to entrain for
our billet area. After
being served some very welcome coffee and doughnuts by the Red Cross,
we helped each other get through the narrow doors of the railroad
coaches, and were carried about 15 miles inland to Winchester, the
ancient capital of England. Winchester,
rich in story and legend, where the statue of King Alfred looks down
the crooked, winding streets, and the solemn majesty of Winchester
Cathedral stands quiet guard over the city, able to tell so many
stories of the changes it has seen in man’s life.
of the regiment was billeted in Winchester Barracks, in the middle of
the city, and here one got his first taste of British military
tradition on noticing that over each door was inscribed the name of
some famous battle in which the Hampshire Regiment had participated.
After we cleaned up and got the chill out of the buildings,
they turned out to be quite comfortable.
The 3rd Battalion went to nearby Arlysford and there received
their billets in its vicinity. Headquarters
and I Company were at Armsworth House, Companies K and L were at
Bighton, and M Company stayed at Bishop’s Sutton.
will recall the many points of interest in and about Winchester.
The Cathedral, built in 1079, the church of St. Cross, the
Guildhall, King Arthur’s Roundtable, the Westgate, etc.
It was an interesting and informative insight into British
history and tradition. Remember
too the pubs, the “alf & alf,” fish and chips, and last but
not least those passes to London.
Many lasting friendships were made in England during the seven
weeks we stayed there. Much
was done toward working out a more thorough understanding between
Americans and Britons. Who
could help but marvel at the courage and tenacity of these people upon
seeing the havoc wrought in London and other cities by air raids and
16 December, we sewed our patched back on our sleeves and were
permitted to tell people the identity of our unit.
Christmas found us becoming quite British in our manner and
having a party for those pink-cheeked English kids, most of them
evacuees from bombed areas. Made
you a bit homesick, didn’t it?
on Christmas day, we received a rush call to furnish riflemen as
replacements for the forces in the Ardennes.
Eight hundred and thirty-one men were sent to the front, which
was saddening to those who remained behind while all this was going on
across the Channel.
holiday week found many companies having private parties in the large
gymnasium at Winchester. Music
and beer were plentiful, and the English ATS girls and WRENS helped so
much to brighten the occasions. Many
of our men were surprised to see how well these girls could jitterbug,
and equally amazed at their ability to consume bitters.
Years came and passed quickly. The
pubs all closed at 2200 as usual, so that celebrations were in many
cases nipped in the bud. Somehow
or other, the raucous celebrations of former years would have seemed
in bad taste before these people who had been bearing the burden of
war for so long.
was conducted and numerous checks made of the combat serviceability of
our equipment, which had been arriving in large piles.
Weapons were zeroed in on the range, and as far as possible, we
attempted to complete the finishing touches before going across the
Channel. Behind the
pleasant scenes at Winchester, there was ever present the sobering
thought that soon we would be put to the test.
the HMS Liangiby Castle left Southampton on 20 January, there were
many who were already thinking about overseas stripes and rotational
furloughs. This ship was
a sister ship of the ill-fated Morro Castle and was very comfortable,
having been completely refitted as a trooper.
The Channel was safely negotiated, and at sunrise the morning
of the 21st, we got our first glimpse of the snow-covered French
coast. Since the sea was
rough, we had to wait till late next evening before climbing aboard
LCIs to go ashore. Who
will forget the sensation he got when the nose of that LCI plopped
itself down on the dark shore of LeHavre?
Or that seemingly endless walk with full equipment through the
ruins of the city to the railroad station, where those deluxe coaches
awaited us. They were the
famed 40-and-8s, and we were soon to learn why our fathers had always
spoken of French boxcars as a bad memory.
There had been little change since they rode them, except that
the cars were 25 years older and more mellow with age.
Designed to carry 40 men or 8 horses, it would appear from the
odor that they had been concentrating on the latter, and from our
later impressions, we all wished that they had been devoted
exclusively to horses.
fell all night, and it was bitter cold.
We all lay huddled in a shivering mass of humanity, and no one
got much sleep. Some
humorist suggested setting each other’s clothes on fire, but the
supply sergeants expressed a strong veto.
Next morning, we saw why Normandy has always been pictured as a
place of beauty. The snow
had covered most of the scars of war, and the scenery was lovely.
The hedgerows and the neatly laid-out farmland, with the fruit
orchards in trim rows; it was easy to appreciate the fame of Normandy.
Yes, it was beautiful, but God, it was cold!
1600 the next day, we arrived at our destination.
The organic vehicles had gone ahead in motor convoy, carrying
with them the quartering party, so that when we arrived, we were
driven with a minimum of confusion to our billets.
Schoolhouses, private homes, chateaux and other buildings had
been picked for us. We
stayed in what was left of a French chateau, since the Jerries had
looted the place of everything worthwhile, even tearing out the wiring
and fireplaces in their retreat.
Regimental CP (Command Post) was at Buchy, and the battalions
were spread out in neighboring towns.
the aid of our GI French books and our high-school French, we soon
learned that the French were warm and sincere in their greeting, and
that they had suffered much. We
also were introduced to two staple items of French life, apple cider
and huge loaves of oven-baked bread.
There was a spirit of amity and goodwill between us and the
training was carried on, but most of the time was devoted to servicing
weapons and equipment. We
were preparing ourselves mentally and physically for what lay ahead.
1 February 1945, we left Buchy enroute to a Marshalling Area.
It was Liesse-Gizy, or “Lizzie Gizzie” as it became known,
and the regimental CP was set up in the nearby town of Pierrepont.
The mud here was so deep that Retreat ceremony had to be cut
short, since the men would disappear from sight in a few minutes!
You had to take three steps before your shoes could move.
However, we were fortunate enough to secure large tents, which
were easy to keep warm, and cots upon which to sleep.
The place will be remembered by most of us as “Tent City.”
People were beginning to wonder if the 69th would ever leave
We were getting to be seasoned travelers by this time, so it was with little strain that we packed up and took another train trip on 7 February. After another blissful 24 hours in the boxcars, we detrained at Pepinster, Belgium, and were put aboard trucks. Just as we started, so did the rain, and a miserable few hours were spent in the trucks, cold and very wet. As always, the motors had gone on ahead in motor convoy, and by the grace of someone’s clever planning, we all ended up in the same place, namely the town of Waimes in Belgium. Here again, we saw evidences of the destructive force of war, as the place had been heavily bombed. In spite of what they had suffered in the war, the Belgian people were warmly hospitable. Although our stay was a short one, there were many evidences of goodwill, and even appreciation for their having been freed from German domination.
10th of February was the day we entered Germany.
That morning, we moved out, combat-loaded, and took up the
positions occupied by the 395th Infantry of the 99th Division in the
vicinity of Hollerath, just inside the first belt of pillboxes of the
infamous Siegfried Line. By
1630, all positions had been taken over, and the battle-green 69th was
ready to apply the principles learned in all the months of training.
men were far from comfortable that first night.
With only one blanket and a sleeping bag in the below-freezing
weather, not to mention the fact that we were subjected to harassing
artillery fire, supplemented by “screaming Meemies” and
considerable use of the flares. Extensive
patrol activity, aimed at feeling out the strength and disposition of
the enemy, was carried out for the following two weeks, and it was not
long before most men had become quite used to life at the front.
As someone put it: “You don’t have to worry about the ones
you can hear!” After a
time, you can fairly accurately tell where they will land.
Morale of the command was excellent, especially when the
kitchens arrived in the area, and it was possible to send up hot food
to the men in the line.
this period, all duffle bags were turned in, so that the units could
travel fast and light. Condition
of roads in the area was wretched, which seriously accentuated the
supply problem. In the 17
days before our first attack, 30 prisoners were taken, of whom 10 were
captured by our patrols. In
this area too, great emphasis was put on maintaining weapons and
equipment as well as much attention to proper sanitation.
being postponed several times, our first attack was launched at 0600,
27 February. We arose at
0300, had breakfast and spent the remainder of the time in final
preparations. The night
was very still, and a slight mist hung in the air, an ideal morning
for our purpose. It is
not boasting to say here that anyone who had come into our area that
morning could have accurately predicted that we would measure up to
any combat assignment given us. There
was no visible nervousness, no confusion, no slackening of morale.
Everyone stood ready to perform his assigned tasks as though it
were maneuvers at Shelby, secure in the knowledge that whatever
exigencies arose, we were ready.
To borrow the much-used expression: “This was it!,” and
every man in the 271st knew it.
plan of attack was as follows: The 69th Division, two regiments
abreast, with 661st Tank Destroyer Battalion, were to seize and hold
the high ground between Honningen and Giescheld inclusive, in order to
clear the Hellenthal-Hollerath road for use as a supply route.
271st Infantry, with 879 Field Artillery, 880 Field Artillery and
Company A of the 269th Engineers in support, would seize and hold its
portion of the Division objective, after which it would be prepared to
assist by fire the 273rd in the capture of Giescheid.
The Second Battalion, with 879 Field Artillery, a platoon of
Engineers, a platoon of Company C, 661 Tank Destroyer in support, was
on the left; the First Battalion on the right, and the Third Battalion
in reserve. The Third was
to stand ready to furnish carrying parties to the attacking battalions
during the hours of darkness, and also to occupy Dickerscheid with one
company, upon call from Second Battalion, when the town was captured.
Company supported the attack of the regiment, with priority of fire to
the Second Battalion. Anti-Tank
Company was to provide litter squads, and also have its mine platoon
sweep the roads to Dickerscheid and Buschem, after clearing mines in
the vicinity of the bridge site.
Company A of 269 Engineers was to construct a bridge in Second
Battalion sector, and also clear mines and abatis in the First
Battalion area. These
were the plans, and with them well in mind, the 271st Infantry
Regiment went into action the morning of 27 February 1945.
First and Second Battalions crossed the line of departure on time and
advanced towards their objectives.
With a few unavoidable exceptions, the regiment reached and
held its objective according to plan.
First Battalion, in the face of stiff resistance, achieved its
objective by 1030, with all companies committed.
The remainder of the day they spent digging in and
consolidating their positions.
G of the Second Battalion attacked Dickerscheid and by noon had taken
four houses; by 1700 had nearly completed mopping up the town.
Company F, attacking Buschem and Honningen, was able to take
half of Buschem before being pinned down by fire from nearby Honningen,
and was ordered to hold its present position for the night.
One platoon of Company E assisted G in mopping up Dickerscheid
and clearing the woods east of the town.
Company K was then ordered to occupy Dickerscheid, which was
accomplished, releasing G Company to close the gap between themselves
and F Company.
Third Battalion was alerted that night, but not committed until next
day. Next morning, E
Company was committed to assist F Company, and the two companies
cleared Buschem and went on to take Honningen.
Two counterattacks were repulsed in the area.
1400, 28 February, Company B led the First Battalion in its attack on
Hahnenberg, moving towards the village from the draw southwest of it.
Concurrently, plans were made for the Third Battalion, Company
I on the right, Company L on the left, to take Oberreifferscheid,
following a five-minute artillery preparation.
Company L, however, experienced some delay in the assembly
area, and did not cross the line of departure until 1450.
Nonetheless, the attack was successful, and positions were
all the advances of these two days, enemy artillery, mortar,
nebelwerfer, and machine-gun fire were encountered.
However, our artillery countered with good results, causing the
enemy artillery to cease firing temporarily.
the attack, morale remained at its high level.
Everyone performed his duties, and many far exceeded the call
of duty. It was not a
pleasant experience, but through close cooperation and teamwork, all
missions were accomplished, and each man emerged more mature, wiser,
more aware of the task ahead.
must be given the Medical Detachment of the Regiment.
Anyone who heard the cry, “Hey, Medic!,” in the heat of
battle, will never forget the manner in which that call was answered.
With disregard for personal safety, and themselves suffering
casualties, our Medics were outstanding in the performance of their
duties. Instances of aid
men continuing their ministrations under sniper and mortar fire were
common. There is no
greater aid to morale than the knowledge to the individual that, if he
is hit, there is help close behind.
Evacuation of casualties was done expeditiously, to which fact
many men today owe their lives.
hundred and seventy prisoners were taken in those two days, most of
them by Company G in the Dickerscheid area.
Twenty-four machine guns were destroyed, two captured, eight
80-mm mortars and six 50-mm mortars, and one 7.5 Infantry howitzer
were destroyed; one anti-tank gun, four 88-mm self-propelled guns were
knocked out and one battery of enemy artillery was silenced.
in the regiment were reasonably light.
One officer and 38 men were killed; one man died of wounds, 19
were seriously wounded. Three
officers and 117 men were missing in action, and non-battle casualties
included four officers and 107 men.
Total casualties for the period were nine officers and 305
first day of March found the regiment still advancing.
Having captured the village of Wahld shortly before midnight on
the 28th, Company B went on to occupy Hescheld.
Company C sent a platoon to B as reinforcements, while Company
A adjusted its positions to tie up with B.
Other company positions in the regiment remained the same;
lines were adjusted and straightened, positions consolidated and
contact established. Anti-tank
weapons were moved well forward and roads were swept of mines.
A bridge was erected to provide a continuous road to the First
Battalion. Companies G
and K changed places, restoring tactical unity to both battalions.
the first few days of March, our entire front was under sniper and
artillery fire. In
Buschem, the anti-tank guns had to be moved to new positions after
coming under direct fire of 88s.
Most of the companies were able to get hot food to their men
and to issue them clean, dry clothes, something which had not been
seen for many days.
were several minor skirmishes, which it is believed were aimed at
forcing us to disclose the location of our weapons.
Occasionally, there were barrages of artillery and mortars,
most of which fell in the Third Battalion area.
Small-arms fire was limited.
Deaths In War Reveal 11
from South Jersey
and Navy Department casualty lists yesterday reported eleven
South Jersey men killed, 13 wounded, and a Vineland man a
PFC Walter J. Gartland, 21, of 706 North 9th St, Camden.
Gartland, son of Mrs. Anna Gartland, was reported killed in Germany on April 16. A Camden Catholic High School Graduate, he entered the Army in January 1944. and went overseas last November with an infantry unit. He had been employed at the Naval aircraft factory at the Philadelphia Navy Yard. Besides his mother, Gartland is survived by two brothers, Arthur, with the Seabees in the Pacific, and Henry, of Camden, and a sister, Mrs. Frank Fallon, of Pennsauken. Solemn Requiem High Mass for Private Gartland will be celebrated in Holy Name Church, Monday at 9:00 AM.
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