Saturday, June 15, 2019

Is Shaft The Black James Bond?


In my Crime Beat column back in 2015 I noted that a remake of the film Shaft was in the works. 

The black private detective character was originally portrayed in the 1971 film by a black actor, Richard Roundtree, and by another black actor, Samuel L. Jackson, in a 2000 remake.

Should a white actor, I asked in my column, now be cast as John Shaft in the newest remake?

Ridiculous? 

No more ridiculous that a black actor portraying James Bond. 

Well, the new Shaft film has finally been made and released and a black actor, Samuel L. Jackson (seen in the above photo), is back as John Shaft. 

And in the film a character calls Shaft “the Black James Bond.”

I rest my case. 

You can read my Crime Beat column on a black James Bond via the below link:    

www.pauldavisoncrime.com/2015/10/my-crime-beat-column-should-black-actor.html



You can also read my Washington Times piece on a female James Bond via the below link: 

www.pauldavisoncrime.com/2018/10/no-jane-bond-says-007-film-producer.html 

Pennsylvania Woman Charged With Fraud For Perpetrating “Grandparents Scheme”


The U.S. Attorney’s Office Eastern District of Pennsylvania released the below information yesterday: 

PHILADELPHIA – United States Attorney William M. McSwain announced today that Yahaira Diaz, 33, of Pottsville, Pennsylvania, was charged by Information with aggravated identity theft, mail fraud, and access device fraud.  The charges against the defendant stem from her participation in what has been popularly dubbed the “Grandparents Scheme”, a type of elder financial abuse.  The charges come one day in advance of “World Elder Abuse Awareness Day” on June 15, 2019.
As alleged in the Information, the scheme operated as follows: an individual called an elderly victim posing as the grandchild of the victim, or posing as an attorney representing the grandchild. The caller claimed that the grandchild was in a vehicular accident and was arrested for driving under the influence (or some type of legal trouble). The caller then said that the grandchild needed money for bail or legal representation, and persuaded the victim to send thousands of dollars in cash via overnight delivery service to an address where the schemers retrieved the package. The schemers then continued to call the victim and demand more money until the victim realized that he or she had been defrauded and stopped sending money.
In those telephone calls, to further convince the grandparents to send cash, the co-schemers described the grandchild’s situation as increasingly serious: claiming that the grandchild had been arrested for driving under the influence; that a pregnant woman was involved in the accident; that the pregnant woman and her unborn child were injured or killed; that the grandchild would not be released from prison without additional funds; and that legal and other fees were mounting.
Diaz allegedly played a leadership role in this scheme, which she and her co-schemers perpetrated in Allentown and Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. For example, she identified and arranged for access to residential locations where her co-schemers instructed victims to send the fraud proceeds. Diaz recruited and controlled additional participants in the scheme who allowed her to use their residences for the receipt of proceeds, and who helped retrieve the packages and shared the proceeds with other co-schemers.
Diaz engaged in numerous incidents of the Grandparents Scheme as well as credit card fraud, which is also charged in the Information. In the Grandparents Scheme, Diaz and her co-schemers defrauded at least 10 elderly victims of at least $158,800 and attempted to defraud those victims of at least an additional $69,000. If convicted, the defendant faces a maximum possible sentence of 72 years in prison, including a mandatory minimum term of two years in prison.
“Crimes against the elderly target some of the most vulnerable people in our society, and schemes like the ‘Grandparent Scheme’ are particularly heinous because they prey on a senior’s love for their family,” said U.S. Attorney McSwain. “The Department of Justice is committed to protecting our seniors from fraud, and my Office will continue to prioritize prosecuting criminals who prey on our elderly residents.”
“Trying to scam strangers out of money is criminal,” said Michael T. Harpster, Special Agent in Charge of the FBI's Philadelphia Division. “Specifically targeting elderly victims because you figure they're easy marks is cruel. The FBI will never stop working to shut down elder fraud schemes like this to protect older folks and help them hang on to their hard-earned money.” 
“Crimes like these against our elderly citizens are taken very seriously by law enforcement. The Bethlehem Police Department, working with its Federal partners, will investigate, arrest and prosecute individuals involved in criminal scams like these ‘Grandparent Scams,” said Mark DiLuzio, Chief of Police, Bethlehem Police Department. “As Chief, I would like to personally thank U.S. Attorney McSwain and his Office, the FBI, U.S. Postal inspectors, the Northampton County District Attorney’s Office and Bethlehem Police Detectives who all worked collectively and brought this person and her partners to justice. On behalf of all elderly citizens in the City of Bethlehem, thank you!”  
The case was investigated by the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the United States Postal Service, the Bethlehem Police Department, and the Northampton County District Attorney’s Office, and is being prosecuted by Deputy United States Attorney Louis D. Lappen.
An indictment, information, or criminal complaint is an accusation. A defendant is presumed innocent unless and until proven guilty.
The Department of Justice is committed to combating elder fraud. The Department’s historic 2018 and 2019 Elder Fraud Sweeps collectively brought criminal and civil actions against more than 500 defendants responsible for defrauding more than $1.5 billion from at least 3 million victims.
The Department of Justice also provides a variety of resources relating to elder fraud victimization through its Office of Victims of Crime (OVC), which has announced a new competitive solicitation addressing enhanced multidisciplinary teams for older victims of abuse and financial exploitation (up to $375,000 each) and funding for a National Multidisciplinary Team Technical Assistance Center (for up to $3 million), which will help facilitate the expansion of elder abuse case review across the nation. The deadline is July 7, 2019.
More information about the Department’s efforts to help American seniors is available at its Elder Justice Initiative webpage. For more information about the Consumer Protection Branch and its enforcement efforts, visit its website. Elder fraud complaints may be filed with the FTC at www.ftccomplaintassistant.gov or at 877-FTC-HELP.

Friday, June 14, 2019

A Little Humor: Wife Dies in Jerusalem


A man and his nagging wife went on vacation to Jerusalem. 

While they were there, the wife died.

The undertaker told the husband, “You can have her shipped home for $5000, or you can bury her here, in the Holy Land, for only $150.”

The man thought about it and decided he would just have her shipped home for $5000.

The undertaker asked, “Why would you spend $5000 to ship your wife home, when it would be wonderful to be buried here and you would spend only $150?”

The man replied, “Long ago a man called Jesus Christ died here, was buried here, and three days later he rose from the dead. I just can’t take that chance.”

Flag Day 2019: Honor And Defend The American Flag


Today is Flag Day.

All Americans should honor and defend the flag and the ideals and principals it stands for.


Following in the patriotic tradition of the Davis family, my daughter Brittany was born on Flag Day.

Thursday, June 13, 2019

Gone Phishing: FBI Reports On Prison Sentence of Website Creator Who Stole ATM Card Numbers


The FBI released the below information:
Nearly half a million Alabama cell phone numbers received identical text messages in 2015 telling them to click a link to “verify” their bank account information. The link took recipients to a realistic-looking bank website where they typed in their personal financial information.
But the link was not the actual bank’s website—it was part of a phishing scam. Just like phishing messages sent over email, the text message-based scam was easy to fall for. The web address was only one character off from the bank’s actual web address.
While most recipients appeared to ignore the message, around 50 people clicked on the link and provided their personal information. The website asked for account numbers, names, and ZIP codes, along with their associated debit card numbers, security codes, and PINs. Within an hour, the fraudster had made himself debit cards with the victims’ account information. He then began to withdraw money from various ATMs, stealing whatever the daily ATM maximum was from each account.
“It was a fairly legitimate-looking website, other than the information it was asking for,” said Special Agent Jake Frith of the Alabama Attorney General’s Office, who worked the case along with investigators from the FBI’s Mobile Field Office.
The fraudster, Iosif Florea, stole about $18,000 (including ATM fees), with losses from each individual account ranging from $20 to $800. (Banks typically reimburse customers who are victims of fraud.)
Investigators believe Florea bought a large list of cell phone numbers from a marketing company, and he only needed a few victims out of thousands of phone numbers for the scheme to be successful.
The damage was minimized, however, because of the bank’s quick response. As soon as customers reported the fraud, the bank reached out to federal authorities as well as the local media to alert the community to the fraudulent messages.
“The loss amount could have been huge,” said FBI Special Agent Dennis Reed, II. “The bank was very proactive in contacting law enforcement so we could immediately start tracking it.”
And while this was a technology-enabled crime, the Internet also helped investigators find the perpetrator. Florea had been captured withdrawing victims’ money by several ATM security cameras. Investigators posted the surveillance photos to a national law enforcement message group, and an officer in California recognized Florea.
Florea lived in Arizona but his victims were primarily in Alabama. He also withdrew money in several other states over the course of about two months in 2015. Reed and Frith worked with other FBI offices and local law enforcement across the country to investigate and arrest Florea.
Florea was indicted and pleaded guilty to aggravated identity theft and bank fraud charges in 2018, and in February 2019, he was sentenced to 32 months in prison.
While the FBI and law enforcement partners investigate these cases and work to bring criminals to justice, it’s also crucial for consumers to protect themselves and to come forward quickly if they are victimized.
In addition to never giving out your PIN, Reed and Frith emphasized that if you receive a request from your bank through email or text message, always look into it before providing any information. Banks don’t ask you for your PIN over the phone or in emails or text messages.
Frausters are also becoming more sophisticated and including “customer service” numbers in their phishing messages that route callers back to the fraudsters themselves, not the bank. That’s what happened in Florea’s case. So not only do consumers need to verify the authenticity of messages, they also need to ensure they’re calling the right number to do so.
“Don’t use the phone number provided in the message; always look up the bank’s actual phone number on your own or visit the local branch,” Reed said. “Go to an independent source to verify that text message or email request.”

Wednesday, June 12, 2019

A Little Humor: The Woman In The Kitchen


Two gas company servicemen, a senior training supervisor and a young trainee, were out checking meters in a suburban neighborhood. 

They parked their truck the end of the alley and worked their way to the other end. At the last house, a woman looking out her kitchen window watched the two men as they checked her gas meter.

Finishing the meter check, the senior supervisor challenged his younger coworker to a foot race down the alley back to the truck to prove that an older guy could outrun a younger one.

As they came running up to the truck, they realized the lady from that last house was huffing and puffing right behind them. They stopped and asked her what was wrong.

Gasping for breath, she replied, “When I see two men from the gas company running, I figure I’d better run too!” 

Note: The above photo is of Lucy - comedian Lucille Ball. 

Mob Talk 31: Organized Crime Reporters Discuss Current Crime Stories


Veteran organized crime reporters George Anastasia and Dave Schratwieser discuss the gatering of the Pagans in Philadelphia and other crime stories in Mob Talk 31.

You can watch the video via the below link:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZxC0tFYMbQ 

Nearly 1,700 Suspected Child Sex Predators Arrested During Operation “Broken Heart”


The Justice Department released the below information:

The Department of Justice today announced the arrest of almost 1,700 suspected online child sex offenders during a two-month, nationwide operation conducted by Internet Crimes Against Children task forces. The task forces identified 308 offenders who either produced child pornography or committed child sexual abuse, and 357 children who suffered recent, ongoing or historical sexual abuse or were exploited in the production of child pornography.
The 61 ICAC task forces, located in all 50 states and comprised of more than 4,500 federal, state, local and tribal law enforcement agencies, led the coordinated operation known as “Broken Heart” during the months of April and May 2019. During the course of the operation, the task forces investigated more than 18,500 complaints of technology-facilitated crimes targeting children and delivered more than 2,150 presentations on internet safety to over 201,000 youth and adults.
"The sexual abuse of children is repugnant, and it victimizes the most innocent and vulnerable of all," Attorney General William P. Barr said. "We must bring the full force of the law against sexual predators, and with the help of our Internet Crimes Against Children program, we will. Over the span of just two months, our ICAC task forces investigated more than 18,000 complaints of internet-related abuse and helped arrest 1,700 alleged abusers. I would like to thank our Office of Justice Programs, all of the task force members, and especially the state and local partners who helped us achieve these important results. We are committed to bringing the defendants in these cases to justice and protecting every American child."
The operation targeted suspects who: (1) produce, distribute, receive and possess child pornography; (2) engage in online enticement of children for sexual purposes; (3) engage in the sex trafficking of children; and (4) travel across state lines or to foreign countries and sexually abuse children.
The ICAC Program is funded through the Department’s Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention (OJJDP) within the Office of Justice Programs (OJP). In 1998, OJJDP launched the ICAC Task Force Program to help federal, state and local law enforcement agencies enhance their investigative responses to offenders who use the internet, online communication systems or computer technology to exploit children. To date, ICAC task forces have reviewed more than 922,000 complaints of child exploitation, which have resulted in the arrest of more than 95,500 individuals. In addition, since the ICAC program's inception, more than 708,500 law enforcement officers, prosecutors and other professionals have been trained on techniques to investigate and prosecute ICAC-related cases.
For more information, visit the ICAC Task Force webpage. For state-level Operation Broken Heart results, please contact the appropriate state ICAC task force commander. Contact information for task force commanders is available online.
The Office of Justice Programs, directed by Principal Deputy Assistant Attorney General Matt M. Dummermuth, provides federal leadership, grants, training, technical assistance, and other resources to improve the nation’s capacity to prevent and reduce crime, assist victims and enhance the rule of law by strengthening the criminal justice system. More information about OJP and its components can be found at www.ojp.gov.

Tuesday, June 11, 2019

My Washington Times Review Of 'The Killer Across The Table: Unlocking The Secrets Of Serial Killers And Predators With The FBI's Original Mindhunter'


The Washington Times published my review of The Killer Across the Table: Unlocking the Secrets of Serial Killers and predators With the FBI’s Original Mindhunter.

Who knows why a person rapes, tortures and kills countless men, women and children without empathy or remorse?

Well, former FBI profiler and author John Douglas has a fair idea, having studied and interviewed numerous serial killers and other murderers for nearly 50 years, often sitting about three feet across the table from the killers in a prison interview room.

In “The Killer Across the Table: Unlocking the Secrets of Serial Killers and Predators with the FBI’s Original Mindhunter,” Mr. Douglas and co-author Mark Olshaker take a close look at four predatory killers while detailing the profiling process and strategies used to solve some of the country’s most complicated and heinous cases.

Mr. Douglas, an FBI profiler who became famous as the inspiration for the film “Silence of the Lambs,” the network TV series “Criminal Minds” and the Netflix series “Mindhunter,” has been involved in thousands of violent crime cases over the course of his 25-year-career as an FBI special agent and later as a private consultant. Along with Mr. Olshaker, he previously published “Mindhunter,” “The Anatomy of Motive” and “Law & Disorder.”

Although the four murderers interviewed and analyzed in “The Killer Across the Table” are not as infamous as Ted Bundy and other more notorious serial killers, Mr. Douglas reflects on his past encounters with some of the country’s most notorious murderers, such as Ed Kemper, Charles Manson, the “BTK Strangler” Denis Rader and David Berkowitz, known as the “Son of Sam” killer, and compares their actions and motives with the four lessor known killers covered in this book.

You can read the rest of the review via the below link:

https://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2019/jun/10/book-review-the-killer-across-the-table-by-john-f-/

Monday, June 10, 2019

FBI: Spy Recruitment Of U.S. Engineer Four Decades Ago A Warning for Today


The FBI offers the below information: 
Marian Zacharski (seen on the left above) was young, charming, and handsome. In his mid-20s, he was a sales rep and rising star in the U.S. operations of the Polish American Machinery Corporation and was living a leisurely life in the suburbs of Los Angeles in the late 1970s.
He was also a spy.
Zacharski was an “illegal”—a foreign intelligence agent living on U.S. soil, operating undercover and unknown to American authorities, much like the Russian spies arrested by the FBI in 2010 that partly inspired the television drama The Americans.
In 1977, Zacharski was sent to California by the Polish government, then an Eastern bloc country working in concert with the Soviet Union, to uncover military and industrial secrets in the aerospace industry.
It wasn’t long before Zacharski found an ideal target.
His name was William Holden Bell (seen on the right above). A longtime engineer at Hughes Aircraft Company—an aerospace and defense firm founded by Howard Hughes in 1932—the nearly 60-year-old Bell had a security clearance and access to vital classified information. Just as important, he was struggling financially and emotionally and was vulnerable to recruitment.
The previous months had been trying for Bell. His debt was mounting. His childhood sweetheart and wife of nearly three decades had divorced him, saddling him with a regular alimony payment. He had worked long assignments in Europe, further increasing his expenses. Compounding his misery was the loss of his youngest son in a fatal accident.
After remarrying, Bell moved to an apartment complex in the beachside community of Playa del Rey. One of his new neighbors was Zacharski. The two shared an interest in machine technology and a love for recreational tennis. They soon began spending time together both on and off the court. Bell would later tell a Senate committee that Zacharski eventually became his best friend. Or so it seemed.
Financially, Bell’s troubles lingered, and he declared bankruptcy. To make matters worse, his community was being converted into condominiums, and he would have to move. Zacharski offered to help. He asked Bell to help him make connections for his company at Hughes. Perhaps, Zacharski proposed, Bell could share some of his knowledge on various engineering matters as a paid technical consultant. Bell agreed, and the money began to flow. But ultimately Zacharski wanted more: classified information.
Bell began to show Zacharski projects he had worked on, like sophisticated radar systems and fixed weapons platforms. Zacharski supplied a camera and special high-resolution film so Bell could make photographs of confidential and secret plans and schematics. He would later receive other concealment devices like a tie rack and a large wooden chess piece.
As Zacharski paid him a steady stream of cash and gold coins—ultimately totaling over $110,000 and possibly much more—Bell knew he had crossed a line from neighborly friendship to American turncoat. But Zacharski was skillful, keeping Bell in line with clever manipulation and possibly even threats to his family. The demands for information just continued to grow, including a series of trips overseas to deliver it.
Meanwhile, the FBI had become aware of Zacharski’s activities and had identified Bell as one of his sources. Agents began following both men, but not before Bell compromised another American radar system.
Coordinating counterespionage work here and overseas while building a case that can hold up in U.S. court is difficult, but the Bureau methodically gathered information and evidence. On June 24, 1981, agents from FBI Los Angeles confronted Bell. He soon confessed and allowed the FBI to use microphone surveillance at his next meeting with Zacharski. Four days later, both men were arrested and charged with espionage-related crimes.
Bell agreed to plead guilty and cooperate in the prosecution of Zacharski. By the end of the year, Zacharski was convicted and sentenced to life in prison. Bell was sentenced to eight years. In 1985, Zacharski and three other Soviet bloc agents were exchanged for 25 people held in Iron Curtain jails for dissenting against Eastern European communist regimes.
Bell’s betrayal of his country mirrors the story of many others ensnared by foreign spies both past and present. Over time, vulnerable Americans are drawn in with money, companionship, attention, and other “carrots” in exchange for information, which gradually increases in importance, classification level, and quantity.
The threat remains. Espionage agents are as skilled, dangerous, and active as ever. 

Sunday, June 9, 2019

Forget Rocky: A Look Back At Philadelphia's True Boxing Champion, Smokin'Joe Frazier


I'm reading Mark Kram, Jr's Smokin' Joe: The Life of Joe Frazier, as I've been assigned to review the book for the Washington Times.

David Murell at Philadelphia magazine offers an interview with Mark Kram, Jr (seen in the below photo).

You can read the piece via the below link:

https://www.phillymag.com/news/2019/06/08/smokin-joe-frazier-mark-kram/?utm_campaign=EDIT%3A%20Sunday&utm_source=hs_email&utm_medium=email&utm_content=7
3478646&_hsenc=p2ANqtz--h3XHg1DwiOlfkmwR3ncn5CxoGiV_xFkg_qNgUiV7-gsjHTL7AMs_f7ksWK


Note; Below is a photo of the late great fighter Joe Frazier near the sports stadiums in South Philadelphia;


A Little Humor: A Cop Calls It In


A cop got on his car radio and called his sergeant.

“Sarge?”

“Yeah, go ahead” the sergeant responded.

“We have a situation here,” the cop reported.” A woman shot her husband dead because he stepped on the floor she had just mopped clean.”

“Have you arrested the woman?”

“No Sarge. The floor is still wet.”


Note: The above photo is of Joe E. Ross and Fred Gwynne from the funny 1960s TV series Car 54: Where Are You?

Saturday, June 8, 2019

A Little Humor: Say It With Flowers


A new business opened and one of the owner’s friends send him flowers for the occasion. 

The flowers arrived at the new business site and the owner read the card, “Rest in Peace.” 

The owner was angry and called the florist to complain.

He told the florist of the mistake and expressed his anger.

“Sir, I’m really sorry for the mistake,” the florist replied. “but rather than getting angry, you should imagine this: somewhere, there is a funeral taking place today, and they have flowers with a note saying, “Congratulations on your new location!"

Sherlock Holmes, The Most Portrayed Fictional Character Of All Time, Lives On As Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Hits 160


The Herald Scotland looks at the longevity of the fictional character Sherlock Holmes and his creator, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (seen in the above photo), as the writer turns 160.

As common on 21st-century screens as he was in Victorian bookstores, Sherlock Holmes is one of those characters who simply refuses to die. 

We mean this quite literally. In 1893, Holmes was killed off while grappling with arch-nemesis Moriarty – reportedly prompting outraged readers to don black armbands in a mixture of protest and mourning. 

Though probably untrue, the story shows the regard in which Holmes was held even then, and author Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was eventually cajoled into reviving his fallen hero. 

 Doyle – who was born 160 years ago last month – himself had a colder relationship with his creation. He – correctly – felt the character cannibalised his other work (who remembers Professor Challenger?), and began to “weary of his name”. He didn’t even rate his own writing, referring to the stories as “an elementary form of fiction” (pun, one assumes, intended).

Doyle died in 1930, aged 71, but Holmes grew more vivacious with every passing decade. The Guinness Book of World Records lists him as the most portrayed character of all time – with more than 75 actors spanning more than 250 screen appearances.

Since the turn of the millennium, the centenarian Mr Holmes has been enjoying something of a purple patch. Benedict Cumberbatch rocked ratings for the BBC in Sherlock, while Robert Downey Jr  did the same on the big screen in Guy Ritchie’s soon-to-be trilogy, and Ian McKellen scored rave reviews with a more thespian take in 2015’s Mr  Holmes.

You can read the rest of the piece via the below link:

https://www.heraldscotland.com/news/17692904.sherlock-holmes-lives-on-as-conan-doyle-hits-160/



Note: The above photo is of actor Jeremy Brett, my favorite Sherlock Holmes. 

Friday, June 7, 2019

A Little Night Music: The Late Dr. John's 'Right Place Wrong Time' & 'That's My Home'


Dr. John, a Grammy-winner and noted New Orleans musician, recently died. He was 77.

You can listen to his classic hit, Right Place Wrong Time, via the below link:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HT4RainY-lY

And you can listen to his song That's My Home via the below link:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sMjBITuqfSo

You can read about his life and work via the below link:

https://www.reuters.com/article/us-people-drjohn-idUSKCN1T72Z0

Stolen Secrets Saved: FBI Thwarted Transfer Of Trade Secrets To China


The FBI released the below information:

Wenfeng Lu was seemingly living the American dream—a comfortable life in Irvine, California, with his family and a career in medical device research and development.
Yet Lu’s secret goal was to use trade secrets stolen from his employer to strike it rich in his native China. However, thanks to an FBI investigation, his plan was thwarted, and Lu is now serving a 27-month prison sentence.
Lu worked for several different U.S. companies, all of which developed high-tech medical equipment, such as clot retrieval tools and balloon-guide catheters. In each job, Lu signed a non-disclosure agreement for his research and development work.
Despite signing the confidentiality agreement, Lu routinely did “data dumps” from his various medical research employers for about three years until his arrest in 2012. Lu transferred all of the data he could get his hands on to a personal laptop. Many of the hundreds of documents Lu stole had nothing to do with his own research; he took as much information as he could access, including proprietary information.
“He had access to so many files, not just for his own projects, and he downloaded files for a variety of different projects and took them home and to China,” said Special Agent Gina Kwon, who investigated this case out of the FBI’s Los Angeles Field Office.
One of Lu’s former employers noticed the unusual activity on their systems and reported the results of their internal investigation to the FBI. Investigators quickly proceeded to build their case and arrested Lu, just before he boarded a plane to China with the files.
The investigative team learned that Lu had planned to create and run his own medical device manufacturing company in China using the stolen technology and Chinese government funding. He had even applied for Chinese patents using technology stolen from the American companies. (China’s government creates policies that disadvantage American businesses, and hacking against American companies and interests is a common tactic.)
“Lu wanted his own business, and he thought there was a great market in China for this technology,” Kwon said.
Kwon said the American company’s quick response to the unusual activity on their systems was key to the successful investigation. That’s why the FBI works closely with private sector companies to build relationships and promote information sharing. Kwon encouraged the victim companies in this case—and all companies who have trade secrets—to compartmentalize access to files so each employee only has access to what is needed for his or her job.
“These cases are important for the economic prosperity of our country,” Kwon said. “China and others are doing what they can to cut corners by stealing technology from American companies. It’s detrimental to U.S companies because they’ve spent years and money to develop the technology, and it undercuts their ability to sell it competitively.”
Note: Shown in the above photo are the laptop, thumb drives, cell phones, and other items confiscated from Wengfeng Lu during his 2012 arrest as he tried to board a plane to China with stolen trade secrets.

Thursday, June 6, 2019

Navy’s Top Europe Commander Pays Tribute To D-Day Frogmen At Normandy Statue Dedication


Scott Wyland at Stars and Stripes offers a piece on the UDT frogmen who led the way at the D-Day Normandy invasion.

U.S. frogmen slogged through choppy waves to the Normandy beaches on D-Day, demolishing mines and removing other obstacles as German soldiers fired at them from hilltop perches. 

These underwater demolition teams cleared the way for the largest amphibious assault in history on June 6, 1944, which led to the liberation of Western Europe and contributed to the defeat of Nazi Germany a year later. 

The frogmen were among the first to step ashore and die. They carried out their mission despite having little defense against relentless machine gun and artillery fire. 

They were among the Normandy war dead honored Thursday during a dedication of a Lone Sailor statue on a plaza overlooking Utah Beach. It was one of several ceremonies in the region commemorating the 75th anniversary of D-Day. 

“The Lone Sailor monument represents all these sailors and Marines that lost their lives at sea — and what they have given to us,” said Adm. James Foggo (seen in the below photo), head of the Navy’s Europe and Africa command, according to a statement. “Victory in Europe would not have been possible without the determination and sacrifice of those sailors, soldiers and Marines here on Utah Beach, 75 years ago today.” 

The statue is one of 17 Lone Sailor monuments and is the first to be placed outside the United States.

Foggo noted that the frogmen were the forerunners of the Navy SEALs and a crucial part of the invasion force. 


The frogmen swam and waded through waters in a combat zone with no wetsuits or diving gear, submerging only as long as they could hold their breaths. The Navy adopt scuba gear in 1948 and started the SEALs in 1962. 


You can read the rest of the piece via the below link: 


Note: My late father, Edward Miller Davis, was a UDT Chief Petty Officer who served in the Pacific War.  

Voyage To Victory: Novelist And War Correspondent Ernest Hemingway On The D-Day Invasion


In honor of the 75th anniversary of D-Day, below is novelist and Collier's famed war correspondent Ernest Hemingway's magazine piece on the D-Day invasion: 

No one remembers the date of the Battle of Shiloh. But the day we took Fox Green beach was the sixth of June, and the wind was blowing hard out of the northwest. As we moved in toward land in the gray early light, the 36-foot coffin-shaped steel boats took solid green sheet of water that fell on the helmeted heads of the troops packed shoulder to shoulder in the stiff, awkward, uncomfortable, lonely companionship of men going to a battle. There were cases of TNT, with rubber tube life preservers wrapped around them to float them in the surf, stacked forward in the steel well of the LCV(P), and there were piles of bazookas and boxes of bazooka rockets encased in waterproof coverings that reminded you of the transparent raincoats college girls wear.

All this equipment, too, had the rubber tube life preservers strapped and tied on, and the men wore these same gray rubber tubes strapped under their armpits.

As the boat rose to a sea, the green water turned white and came slamming in over the men, the guns and the cases of explosives. Ahead you could see the coast of France. The gray booms and derrick-forested bulks of the attack transports were behind now, and, over all the sea, boats were crawling forward toward France.

As the LCV(P) rose to the crest of a wave, you saw the line of low, silhouetted cruisers and the two big battlewagons lying broad-side to the shore. You saw the heat-bright flashes of their guns and the brown smoke that pushed out against the wind and then blew away.

"What's your course, coxswain?" Lieutenant (jg) Robert Anderson of Roanoke, Virginia, shouted from the stern.

"Two-twenty, sir." the coxswain, Frank Currier of Saugus, Massachusetts, answered. He was a thin-faced, freckled boy with his eyes fixed on the compass.

"Then steer two-twenty, damn it!" Anderson said. "Don't steer all over the whole damn ocean!"

"I'm steering two-twenty, sir," the coxswain said patiently.

"Well, steer it, then," Andy said. He was nervous, but the boat crew, who were making their first landing under fire, knew this officer had taken LCV(P)s into the African landing, Sicily and Salerno, and they had confidence in him. 


"Don't steer into that LCT," Andy shouted, as we roared by the ugly steel hull of a tank landing craft, her vehicles sea-lashed, her troops huddling out of the spray.

"I'm steering two-twenty," the coxswain said.

"That doesn't mean you have to run into everything on the ocean," Andy said. He was a handsome, hollow-cheeked boy with a lot of style and a sort of easy petulance. "Mr. Hemingway, will you please see if you can see what that flag is over there, with your glasses?"

I got my old miniature Zeiss glasses out of an inside pocket, where they were wrapped in a woolen sock with some tissue to clean them, and focused them on the flag. I made the flag out just before a wave drenched the glasses.

"It's green."

"Then we are in the mine-swept channel," Andy said. "That's all right. Coxswain, what's the matter with you? Can't you steer two-twenty?"

I was trying to dry my glasses, but it was hopeless the way the spray was coming in, so I wrapped them up for a try later on and watched the battleship Texas shelling the shore. She was just off on our right now and firing over us as we moved in toward the French coast, which was showing clearer all the time on what was, or was not, a course of 220 degrees, depending on whether you believed Andy or Currier the coxswain.

The low cliffs were broken by valleys. There was a town with a church spire in one of them. There was a wood that came down to the sea. There was a house on the right of one of the beaches. On all the headlands, the gorse was burning, but the northwest wind held the smoke close to the ground.

Those of our troops who were not wax-gray with seasickness, fighting it off, trying to hold onto themselves before they had to grab for the steel side of the boat, were watching the Texas with looks of surprise and happiness. Under the steel helmets they looked like pikemen of the Middle Ages to whose aid in battle had suddenly come some strange and unbelievable monster.

There would be a flash like a blast furnace from the 14-inch guns of the Texas, that would lick far out from the ship. Then the yellow-brown smoke would cloud out and, with the smoke still rolling, the concussion and the report would hit us, jarring the men's helmets. It struck your near ear like a punch with a heavy, dry glove.

Then up on the green rise of a hill that now showed clearly as we moved in would spout two tall black fountains of earth and smoke.

That is the only thing I remember hearing a G.I. say all that morning. They spoke to one another sometimes, but you could not hear them with the roar the 225-horsepower high-speed gray Diesel made. Mostly, though, they stood silent without speaking.

I never saw anyone smile after we left the line of firing ships. They had seen the mysterious monster that was helping them, but now he was gone and they were alone again. I found if I kept my mouth open from the time I saw the guns flash until after the concussion, it took the shock away.

I was glad when we were inside and out of the line of fire of the Texas and the Arkansas. Other ships were firing over us all day and you were never away from the sudden, slapping thud of naval gunfire. But the big guns of the Texas and Arkansas that sounded as though they were throwing whole railway trains across the sky were far away as we moved on in. They were no part of our world as we moved steadily over the gray, whitecapped sea toward where, ahead of us, death was being issued in small, intimate, accurately administered packages. They were like the thunder of a storm that is passing in another county whose rain will never reach you. But they were knocking out the shore batteries, so that later the destroyers could move in almost to the shore when they had to come in to save the landing.

Invasion Coast Dead Ahead

Now ahead of us we could see the coast in complete detail. Andy opened the silhouette map with all the beaches and their distinguishing features reproduced on it, and I got my glasses out and commenced drying and wiping them under the shelter of the skirts of my burberry. As far as you could see, there were landing craft moving in over the gray sea. The sun was under at this time, and smoke was blowing all along the coast.

The map that Andy spread on his knees was in ten folded sheets, held together with staples, and marked Appendix One to Annex A. Five different sheets were stapled together and, as I watched Andy open his map, which spread, open, twice as long as a man could reach with outstretched arms, the wind caught it, and the section of the map showing Dog White, Fox Red, Fox Green, Dog Green, Easy Red and part of Sector Charlie snapped twice gaily in the wind and blew overboard.

I had studied this map and memorized most of it, but it is one thing to have it in your memory and another thing to see it actually on paper and be able to check and be sure.

"Have you got a small chart, Andy?" I shouted. "One of those one-sheet ones with just Fox Green and Easy Red?"

"Never had one," said Andy. All this time we were approaching the coast of France, which looked increasingly hostile.

"That the only chart?" I said, close to his ear.

"Only one," said Andy, "and it disintegrated on me. A wave hit it, and it disintegrated. What beach do you think we are opposite?"

"There's the church tower that looks like Colleville," I said. "That ought to be on Fox Green. Then there is a house like the one marked on Fox Green and the timber that runs down to the water in a straight line, like on Easy Red."


"That's right," said Andy. "But I think we're too far to the left."

"Those are the features, all right," I said. "I've got them in my head but there shouldn't be any cliffs. The cliffs start to the left of Fox Green where Fox Red beach starts. If that's true, then Fox Green has to be on our right."

"There's a control boat here somewhere," Andy said. "We'll find out what beach we're opposite."

"She can't be Fox Green if there are cliffs," I said.

"That's right," Andy said. "We'll find out from a control boat. Steer for that PC, coxswain. No, not there! Don't you see him? Get ahead of him. You'll never catch him that way."

We never did catch him, either. We slammed into the seas instead of topping them, and the boat pulled away from us. The LCV(P) was bow-heavy with the load of TNT and the weight of the three-eighth-inch steel armor, and where she should have lifted easily over the seas she banged into them and the water came in solidly.

"The hell with him!" Andy said. "We'll ask this LCI."

Landing Craft Infantry are the only amphibious operations craft that look as though they were made to go to sea. They very nearly have the lines of a ship, while the LCV(P)s look like iron bathtubs, and the LCTs like floating freight gondolas. Everywhere you could see, the ocean was covered with these craft but very few of them were headed toward shore. They would start toward the beach, then sheer off and circle back. On the beach itself, in from where we were, there were lines of what looked like tanks, but my glasses were still too wet to function.

"Where's Fox Green beach?" Andy cupped his hands and shouted up at the LCI that was surging past us, loaded with troops.

"Can't hear," someone shouted. We had no megaphone.

"What beach are we opposite?" Andy yelled.

The officer on the LCI shook his head. The other officers did not even look toward us. They were looking over their shoulders at the beach.

"Get her close alongside, coxswain," Andy said. "Come on, get in there close."

We roared up alongside the LCI, then cut down the motor as she slipped past us.

"Where's Fox Green beach?" Andy yelled, as the wind blew the words away.

"Straight in to your right," an officer shouted.

"Thanks." Andy looked astern at the other two boats and told Ed Banker, the signalman, "Get them to close up. Get them up."

Ed Banker turned around and jerked his forearm, with index finger raised, up and down. "They're closing up, sir," he said.

Looking back you could see the other heavily loaded boats climbing the waves that were green now the sun was out, and pounding down into the troughs.

"You wet all through, sir?" Ed asked me.

"All the way."

"Me, too," Ed said. "Only thing wasn't wet was my belly button. Now it's wet, too."

"This has got to be Fox Green," I said to Andy. "I recognize where the cliff stops. That's all Fox Green to the right. There is the Colleville church. There's the house on the beach. There's the Ruquet Valley on Easy Red to the right. This is Fox Green absolutely."

"We'll check when we get in closer," Andy said. "You really think it's Fox Green?"

"It has to be."

Ahead of us, the various landing craft were all acting in the same confusing manner—heading in, coming out and circling.

The Tanks Were Stymied

"There's something wrong as hell," I said to Andy. "See the tanks? They're all along the edge of the beach. They haven't gone in at all."

Just then one of the tanks flared up and started to burn with thick black smoke and yellow flame. Farther down the beach, another tank started burning. Along the line of the beach, they were crouched like big yellow toads along the high water line. As I stood up, watching, two more started to barn. The first ones were pouring out gray smoke now, and the wind was blowing it flat along the beach. As I stood up, trying to see if there was anyone in beyond the high water line of tanks, one of the burning tanks blew up with a flash in the streaming gray smoke.

"There's a boat we can check with," Andy said. "Coxswain, steer for that LC over there. Yes, that one. Put her hard over. Come on. Get over there!"

This was a black boat, fast-looking, mounting two machine guns and wallowing slowly out away from the beach, her engine almost idling.

"Can you tell us what beach this is?" Andy shouted.

"Dog White," came the answer.

"Are you sure?"

"Dog White beach," they called from the black boat.

"You checked it?" Andy called. 


"It's Dog White beach," they called back from the boat, and their screw churned the water white as they slipped into speed and pulled away from us.

I was discouraged now, because ahead of us, inshore, was every landmark I had memorized on Fox Green and Easy Red beaches. The line of the cliffs that marked the left end of Fox Green beach showed clearly. Every house was where it should be. The steeple of the Colleville church showed exactly as it had in the silhouette. I had studied the charts, the silhouettes, the data on the obstacles in the water and the defenses all one morning, and I remember having asked our captain, Commander W. I. Leahy of the attack transport Dorothea M. Dix, if our attack was to be a diversion in force.

"No," he had said. "Absolutely not. What makes you ask that question?"

"Because these beaches are so highly defensible."

"The Army is going to clear the obstacles and the mines out in the first thirty minutes," Captain Leahy had told me. "They're going to cut lanes in through them for the landing craft."

I wish I could write the full story of what it means to take a transport across through a mine-swept channel; the mathematical precision of maneuver; the infinite detail and chronometrical accuracy and split-second timing of everything from the time the anchor comes up until the boats are lowered and away into the roaring, sea-churning assembly circle from which they break off into the attack wave.

The story of all the teamwork behind that has to be written, but to get all that in would take a book, and this is simply the account of how it was in a LCV(P) on the day we stormed Fox Green beach.

Right at this moment, no one seemed to know where Fox Green beach was. I was sure we were opposite it, but the patrol boat had said this was Dog White beach which should be 4,295 yards to our right, if we were where I knew we were.

"It can't be Dog White, Andy," I said. "Those are the cliffs where Fox Red starts on our left."

"The man says it's Dog White," Andy said.

In the solid-packed troops in the boat, a man with a vertical white bar painted on his helmet was looking at us and shaking his head. He had high cheekbones and a rather flat, puzzled face.

"The lieutenant says he knows it, and we're on Fox Green," Ed Banker shouted back at us. He spoke again to the lieutenant but we could not hear what they said.

Andy shouted at the lieutenant, and he nodded his helmeted head up and down.

"He says it's Fox Green," Andy said.

"Ask him where he wants to go in," I said.

Leading in the Seventh Wave

Just then another small black patrol boat with several officers in it came toward us from the beach, and an officer stood up in it and megaphoned, "Are there any boats here for the seventh wave on Fox Green beach?"

There was one boat for that wave with us, and the officer shouted to them to follow their boat.

"Is this Fox Green?" Andy called to them.


"Yes. Do you see that ruined house? Fox Green beach runs for eleven hundred and thirty-five yards to the right of that ruined house."

"Can you get into the beach?"

"I can't tell you that. You will have to ask a beach control boat."

"Can't we just run in?"

"I have no authority on that. You must ask the beach control boat."

"Where is it?"

"Way out there somewhere."

"We can go in where an LCV(P) has been in or an LCI," I said. "It's bound to be clear where they run in, and we can go in under the lee of one."

"We'll look for the control boat," Andy said, and we went banging out to sea through the swarming traffic of landing craft and lighters.

"I can't find her," Andy said. "She isn't here. She ought to be in closer. We have to get the hell in. We're late now. Let's go in."

"Ask him where he is supposed to land," I said.

Andy went down and talked to the lieutenant. I could see the lieutenant's lips moving as he spoke, but could hear nothing above the engine noise.

"He wants to run straight in for that ruined house," Andy said, when he came back.

We headed in for the beach. As we came in, running fast, the black patrol boat swung over toward us again.

"Did you find the control boat?" they megaphoned.

"No!"

"What are you going to do?" 


"We're going in," Andy yelled. 

"Well, good luck to you fellows," the megaphone said. It came over, slow and solemn like an elegy. "Good luck to all of you fellows." 

That included Thomas E. Nash, engineer, from Seattle with a good grin and two teeth out of it. It included Edward F. Banker, signalman, of Brooklyn, and Lacey T. Shiflet of Orange, Virginia, who would have been the gunner if we had had room for guns. It included Frank Currier, the coxswain, of Saugus, Massachusetts, and it included Andy and me. When we heard the lugubrious tone of that parting benediction we all knew how bad the beach really was.

As we came roaring in on the beach, I sat high on the stern to see what we were up against. I had the glasses dry now and I took a good look at the shore. The shore was coming toward us awfully fast, and in the glasses it was coming even faster.

On the beach on the left where there was no sheltering overhang of shingled bank, the first, second, third, fourth and fifth waves lay where they had fallen, looking like so many heavily laden bundles on the flat pebbly stretch between the sea and the first cover. To the right, there was an open stretch where the beach exit led up a wooded valley from the sea. It was here that the Germans hoped to get something very good, and later we saw them get it.

To the right of this, two tanks were burning on the crest of the beach, the smoke now gray after the first violent black and yellow billows. Coming in I had spotted two machine gun nests. One was firing intermittently from the ruins of the smashed house on the right of the small valley. The other was two hundred yards to the right and possibly four hundred yards in front of the beach.

The officer commanding the troops we were carrying had asked us to head directly for the beach opposite the ruined house.

"Right in there," he said. "That's where."

"Andy," I said, "that whole sector is enfiladed by machine gun fire. I just saw them open twice on that stranded boat."

Target for Machine Guns

An LCV(P) was slanted drunkenly in the stakes like a lost gray steel bathtub. They were firing at the water line, and the fire was kicking up sharp spurts of water.

"That's where he says he wants to go," Andy said. "So that's where we'll take him."

"It isn't any good," I said. "I've seen both those guns open up."

"That's where he wants to go," Andy said. "Put her ahead straight in." He turned astern and signaled to the other boats, jerking his arm, with its upraised finger, up and down.

"Come on, you guys," he said, inaudible in the roar of the motor that sounded like a plane taking off. "Close up! Close up! What's the matter with you? Close up, can't you? Take her straight in, coxswain!"

At this point, we entered the beaten zone from the two machine gun points, and I ducked my head under the sharp cracking that was going overhead. Then I dropped into the well in the stern sheets where the gunner would have been if we had any guns. The machine gun fire was throwing water all around the boat, and an antitank shell tossed up a jet of water over us.

The lieutenant was talking, but I couldn't hear what he said. Andy could hear him. He had his head down close to his lips.

"Get her the hell around and out of here, coxswain!" Andy called. "Get her out of here!"


As we swung round on our stem in a pivot and pulled out, the machine gun fire stopped. But individual sniping shots kept cracking over or spitting into the water around us. I'd got my head up again with some difficulty and was watching the shore.

"It wasn't cleared, either," Andy said. "You could see the mines on all those stakes."

"Let's coast along and find a good place to put them ashore," I said. "If we stay outside of the machine gun fire, I don't think they'll shoot at us with anything big because we're just as LCV(P), and they've got better targets than us."

"We'll look for a place," Andy said.

"What's he want now?" I said to Andy.

The lieutenant's lips were moving again. They moved very slowly and as though they had no connection with him or with his face.

Andy got down to listen to him. He came back into the stern. "He wants to go out to an LCI we passed that has his commanding officer on it."

"We can get him ashore farther up toward Easy Red," I said.

"He wants to see his commanding officer," Andy said. "Those people in that black boat were from his outfit."

Advice from a Wounded Ship

Out a way, rolling in the sea, was a Landing Craft Infantry, and as we came alongside of her I saw a ragged shellhole through the steel plates forward of her pilothouse where an 88-mm. German shell had punched through. Blood was dripping from the shiny edges of the hole into the sea with each roll of the LCI. Her rails and hull had been befouled by seasick men, and her dead were laid forward of her pilothouse. Our lieutenant had some conversation with another officer while we rose and fell in the surge alongside the black iron hull, and then we pulled away.

Andy went forward and talked to him, then came aft again, and we sat up on the stern and watched two destroyers coming along toward us from the eastern beaches, their guns pounding away at targets on the headlands and sloping fields behind the beaches.

"He says they don't want him to go in yet; to wait," Andy said. "Let's get out of the way of this destroyer."

"How long is he going to wait?"

"He says they have no business in there now. People that should have been ahead of them haven't gone in yet. They told him to wait."

"Let's get in where we can keep track of it," I said. "Take the glasses and look at that beach, but don't tell them forward what you see."

Andy looked. He handed the glasses back to me and shook his head.

"Let's cruise along it to the right and see how it is up at that end," I said. "I'm pretty sure we can get in there when he wants to get in. You're sure they told him he shouldn't go in?"

"That's what he says."

"Talk to him again and get it straight."

Andy came back. "He says they shouldn't go in now. They're supposed to clear the mines away, so the tanks can go, and he says nothing is in there to go yet. He says they told him it is all fouled up and to stay out yet a while."

The destroyer was firing point blank at the concrete pillbox that had fired at us on the first trip into the beach, and as the guns fired you heard the bursts and saw the earth jump almost at the same time as the empty brass cases clanged back onto the steel deck. The five-inch guns of the destroyer were smashing at the ruined house at the edge of the little valley where the other machine gun had fired from.

"Let's move in now that the can has gone by and see if we can't find a good place," Andy said.

"That can punched out what was holding them up there, and you can see some infantry working up that draw now," I said to Andy. "Here, take the glasses."

Slowly, laboriously, as though they were Atlas carrying the world on their shoulders, men were working up the valley on our right. They were not firing. They were just moving slowly up the valley like a tired pack train at the end of the day, going the other way from home.

"The infantry has pushed up to the top of the ridge at the end of that valley," I shouted to the lieutenant.

"They don't want us yet,"' he said. "They told me clear they didn't want us in yet."

"Let me take the glasses for Hemingway," Andy said. Then he handed them back. "In there, there's somebody signaling with a yellow flag, and there's a boat in there in trouble, it looks like. Coxswain, take her straight in."

We moved in toward the beach at full speed, and Ed Banker looked around and said, "Mr. Anderson, the other boats are coming, too."

"Get them back!" Andy said. "Get them back!"

Banker turned around and waved the boats away. He had difficulty making them understand, but finally the wide waves they were throwing subsided and they dropped astern.

"Did you get them back?" Andy asked, without looking away from the beach where we could see a half-sunken LCV(P) foundered in the mined stakes.

"Yes, sir," Ed Banker said.

An LCI was headed straight toward us, pulling away from the beach after having circled to go in. As it passed, a man shouted with a megaphone, "There are wounded on that boat and she is sinking."

"Can you get in to her?"

The only words we heard clearly from the megaphone as the wind snatched the voice away were "machine gun nest."

"Did they say there was or there wasn't a machine gun nest?" Andy said.

"I couldn't hear."

"Run alongside of her again, coxswain," he said. "Run close alongside."

"Did you say there was a machine gun nest?" he shouted.

An officer leaned over with the megaphone, "A machine gun nest has been firing on them. They are sinking."

"Take her straight in, coxswain," Andy said.

It was difficult to make our way through the stakes that had been sunk as obstructions, because there were contact mines fastened them, that looked like large double pie plates fastened face to face. They looked as though they had been spiked to the pilings and then assembled. They were the ugly, neutral gray-yellow color that almost everything is in war.

We did not know what other stakes with mines were under us, but the ones that we could see we fended off by hand and worked our way to the sinking boat.

It was not easy to bring on board the man who had been shot through the lower abdomen, because there was no room to let the ramp down the way we were jammed in the stakes with the cross sea.

I do not know why the Germans did not fire on us unless the destroyer had knocked the machine gun pillbox out. Or maybe they were waiting for us to blow up with the mines. Certainly the mines had been a great amount of trouble to lay and the Germans might well have wanted to see them work. We were in the range of the antitank gun that had fired on us before, and all the time we were maneuvering and working in the stakes I was waiting for it to fire.

As we lowered the ramp the first time, while we were crowded in against the other LCV(P), but before she sank, I saw three tanks coming along the beach, barely moving, they were advancing so slowly. The Germans let them cross the open space where the valley opened onto the beach, and it was absolutely flat with a perfect field of fire. Then I saw a little fountain of water jut up, just over and beyond the lead tank. Then smoke broke out of the leading tank on the side away from us, and I saw two men dive out of the turret and land on their hands and knees on the stones of the beach. They were close enough so that I could see their faces, but no more men came out as the tank started to blaze up and burn fiercely.

By then, we had the wounded man and the survivors on board, the ramp back up, and were feeling our way out through the stakes. As we cleared the last of the stakes, and Currier opened up the engine wide as we pulled out to sea, another tank was beginning to burn.

We took the wounded boy out to the destroyer. They hoisted him aboard it in one of those metal baskets and took on the survivors. Meantime, the destroyers had run in almost to the beach and were blowing every pillbox out of the ground with their five-inch guns. I saw a piece of German about three feet long with an arm on it sail high up into the air in the fountaining of one shellburst. It reminded me of a scene in Petroushka.

Landing on the Beach

The infantry had now worked up the valley on our left and had gone on over that ridge. There was no reason for anyone to stay out now. We ran in to a good spot we had picked on the beach and put our troops and their TNT and their bazookas and their lieutenant ashore, and that was that.

The Germans were still shooting with their antitank guns, shifting them around in the valley, holding their fire until they had a target they wanted. Their mortars were still laying a plunging fire along the beaches. They had left people behind to snipe at the beaches, and when we left, finally, all these people who were firing were evidently going to stay until dark at least.

The heavily loaded ducks that had formerly sunk in the waves on their way in were now making the beach steadily. The famous thirty-minute clearing of the channels through the mined obstacles was still a myth, and now, with the high tide, it was a tough trip in with the stakes submerged.

We had six craft missing, finally, out of the twenty-four LVC(P)s that went in from the Dix, but many of the crews could have been picked up and might be on other vessels. It had been a frontal assault in broad daylight, against a mined beach defended by all the obstacles military ingenuity could devise. The beach had been defended as stubbornly and as intelligently as any troops could defend it. But every boat from the Dix had landed her troops and cargo. No boat was lost through bad seamanship. All that were lost were lost by enemy action. And we had taken the beach.

There is much that I have not written. You could write for a week and not give everyone credit for what he did on a front of 1,135 yards. Real war is never like paper war, nor do accounts of it read much the way it looks. But if you want to know how it was in an LCV(P) on D-Day when we took Fox Green beach and Easy Red beach on the sixth of June, 1944, then this is as near as I can come to it. 




You can also read my Washington Times review of Hemingway at War via the below link:

www.pauldavisoncrime.com/2017/01/my-washington-times-review-of-hemingway.htmlwww.pauldavisoncrime.com/2017/01/my-washington-times-review-of-hemingway.html