D-Day Baseball On Omaha Beach

Siloam Springs--I was 17 years old when I began bugging my father to let me join the Navy. It took months to get his permission. My buddy, Bobby Clemens, and I intended to join together and be with each other all the way.

Bobby and I left from Reading Terminal in Philadelphia for Sampson, N.Y. When we arrived at boot camp, we had to line up for shots. It was then that Bobby went one way and I the other. I never saw him again during my Navy tour.

After seven weeks of training, I went home for a seven-day leave before traveling to Camp Bradford in Little Creek, Va. I was at Fort Pierce, Fla., for seven weeks, getting back to Camp Bradford on Thanksgiving night 1943. I remained there until January 1944 when I went to Lido Beach in Long Island, N.Y.

I left the country on the Aquitania from Pier 92 in New York City. It took six days to reach Glasgow, Scotland. From there, we went by train to Salcombe, England, for weeks of training. During this time, we practiced landings at Bristol Bay on "ducks" (amphibious trucks) rather than landing craft. In my spare time, I wrote letters home and went into the nearby towns of Exeter, Torquay and Brighton Beach.

On June 1, we went to Southampton, where we experienced air raids for several nights, then finally to the marshaling area for several days. While there, I enjoyed playing baseball with some of the Army guys. Of course, the Navy team was better! To my surprise, the Army players left, and all the equipment was just lying around -- bats, balls, gloves, all being deserted. I quickly picked it up and put it in a sea bag I was determined to keep with me.

While at the marshaling area, we saw the huge mock-up of the French beaches and found out where were going.

When Lt. Fox informed us that it was time to leave, I gathered up my military equipment, including my rifle, and the bag of baseball equipment. I boarded the light service transport on June 5 for the eventual landing at Omaha Beach on June 7.

As we neared the beach, I stood on the bow with several other sailors, betting on what kind of English plane was approaching. We got our answer when the plane -- it was German -- dropped six bombs alongside us. Fortunately, the light service transport was OK, but some of the water lines below were destroyed.

On June 7, as we headed toward Omaha Beach on an LCVP landing craft, we hit a sand bar. We were ordered by the coxswain to get off. I jumped into the water with all my gear -- including the baseball equipment -- and immediately sank to the bottom. Joe Szcech grabbed me under the arms and asked, "Where're you going, Frankie?"

I dropped the baseball equipment on the beach as I dashed for cover. I never saw it again. Now, 60 years later, it's interesting to look back on that naive 17-year-old and his ignorance of what war was. I'm amused when I try to imagine what the person who found that bag of bats, balls and gloves must have thought!