My name is Richard Brookins, and I am a WWII Veteran.

My brother and cousins also served in WWII in various branches of the service, Army, Navy and the USAF. We were all super patriots and enlisted. Everyone was going and I wanted to get in it too, even though I had one bad left eye. I tried enlisting with the Navy, USAF and the Marines, but was declined and classified as LMS, limited military service. My right eye did all the work of the left and eventually the Army accepted me. I enlisted in December 1942 and later discharged in September 1945. I was a projectionist and showed training films to units along with Hollywood films at the bases. My MOS was also that of radio operation and encoding and decoding messages in the field.

I wanted to take care of all the bad things happening in the world. But I had no idea of what military life does to you. I was functional and successful in the military. It was all “make believe” until it wasn’t and until the landing on Omaha Beach. Up the hill from the beach, you could see American soldiers stacked like cord wood to one side and the same thing with German soldiers stacked on the other side of the road. And then there were all of the animals, horses and cows that had been killed by shrapnel. Having been in the Divisional Headquarters of the 28th Signal Company, we were not in foxholes like the infantry. It took 11 soldiers to keep one soldier by ratio to function throughout the war.

Most of the soldiers were just like me. We brought as much of America with us as possible like playing ball and cards. For moral and wellbeing, we had daily mail call to stay in touch with family. This was every bit as important as food, almost like for the “soul.” But there were some guys who never got mail. Lots of us would end up sharing our mail with them, so they weren’t left out. My worst fear was dying before I got home and how that would have hurt my mother. I was always reassuring her that I was okay.

People who had fought in the Pacific gave us our training. But they had never fought in Europe, a totally different landscape. Once we got passed the beach landing in Normandy, we had to work our way through the hedgerows, something we were not prepared for. Aside from being a radio operator, I also worked with Rifle Company. We worked our way through the Huertgen Forest with 3 divisions being exhausted in the process. Later, we liberated the small town of Wiltz Luxembourg on December 6, 1944. The people of Wiltz had not seen freedom for four long years. Christmas was coming and the townspeople wanted to do something for the children, many who had never experienced Christmas. So I was approached to play Santa Claus or as they called it “St. Nick.” The priest gave me his wardrobe to play the part. The soldiers gathered their rationed chocolate and candy and with the baker baking cookies and cakes, we had quite a celebration for the children of Wiltz. There was music and ceremony and for a while, life seemed normal again.

This photo shows me dressed as St. Nick. The Stars and Stripes took photos, which were published in the Rochester Democratic Chronicle for my hometown and family too see in December 1944. Up until that point, my mother did not know where I was or if I was even alive. However, soon the festivities short-lived freedom came to an abrupt halt with the Battle of the Bulge taking place and some of the very children who participated in the Christmas festivities perished in that battle…

I was working in communications and while away from our Sigaba truck containing all of the top decoding for both the Pacific and European Theaters was stolen on February 2, 1945. All communications ceased. There had been no security assigned to watch over the truck! We came across an old lady citizen who said that she saw a truck drive by. We later discovered that the thieves wanted the transportation and did not realize what they had onboard, which they tossed into the river to lighten the load. All 3 safes containing the different parts were found and not compromised. Communications were back up and running, as so was the top echelon tracking down those responsible for questioning and a court martial. Sigaba is an acronym in Militaryese to refer to a coding and decoding Function during WW2. Everything about Sigaba was highly Secret and Top classification. Always closely guarded, and enjoyed infallibility. The codes were never compromised by any Nation, including Allied Nations. It was employed in both theaters, Pacific and Europe.

The daily codes were common to both Battle fronts. On Feb. 2nd my team arrived at our new Division Hdqrts at Colmar, France. The 109th Regiment of the 28th Division was assigned to clean out a large enemy force. My team was diected to park our Trucks on a residential Street along a curb and in front of the building that the Message Center section was occupying. We received our food ration, found room to spread our bed rolls and prepared to settle down to sleep after a very long trip from Alsace-Lorraine. Water and Electric had been blown up by the Germans. The next morning my Friend, Ken Hillman and I went out to the parking area to get some wire and bulbs to be connected to a generator to provide electricity. The Truck had been parked in a long, long line of Trucks. He and I could not locate our truck, It apparently had been moved. WE walked a way along the other parked vehicles, still not finding our Truck. After about 15 or twenty minutes we decided to get a Jeep to continue our search. This search was nmot successful. Now we were really concerned. We went to Our Company office and notified those in charge that our truck could not be found. That set off a search every where. All Communications World wide was ceased until New Codes could be inserted to both theaters. It took over a month for every MP and many more professional Police finally to discover that the Truck, Unguarded, had been stolen by 2 French Soldiers. The highly secret Material had been dumped into a River nearby and the Truck heisted. The river was suspect but the fear that the enemy had stolen the truck, They even suspected Our Allies may have taken it to learn its secrets. They found the Truck in Paris, recovered the undamaged Safes containing all the codes and mechanics safe and working. Now that, very quickly, was what happened. Ken and I stopped the war as far as Coding was concerned. Nothing had more priority than finding the Sigaba. Then started the process of who was responsinble for not having guarded this treasure. Courts Martial proceedings began. I was sent to hearings and testified as to my involvement several times for the rest of the War. No Fun sitting with an MP on either side of me, being quizzed by any number of high ranking officers bent on finding who was guilty. The Division Signal Top Officer was sent back to the States. My Lieutenant was given a ten year sentence in Leaveworth. Eisenhower commuted the sentence. They were continuing right the line. Even while returning to the States on Troop Ship, I was still being queried.

Thirty-three years later in 1977, I received a letter from a fellow who was 17 years old and part of the resistance back in the town of Wiltz during December 1944. The town had been celebrating “The American St. Nick” every year since and invited me to celebrate the rebuilding of their town and annual celebration. They have a 7 foot statue of me and display it each Christmas. The town’s people put the fire in their children’s hearts to remember the Americans for giving back their freedom. The Europeans are more sensitive to freedom, because they lost their freedoms. The respect shown to American Veterans in Europe is extraordinary.

When my son went away to serve in Vietnam, it was in that moment that I really knew how my parents felt. He was an administrative Sgt. recording the morning battle report. Tom Brokaw’s book, The Greatest Generation gave renewed interest in WWII. I am 93 years old today and get invited to speak at schools on occasion.

I have always felt ordinary except for that extraordinary period in my life.
~ Richard W. Brookins, WWII Veteran

As the daughter of a WWII Veteran, it is an honor to collect and share the stories of our veterans like Mr. Brookins. I was thrilled to meet him in his home and honored that he shared his service and story with us for posting on Comes A Soldier’s Whisper and are forever and deeply grateful for his service. Richard Brookin’s story is documented in the book by Peter Lion, The American St. Nick, a must read and available @ amazon.com/American-St-Nick-Peter-…/…/1886249083/ref=sr_1_1… …

Comes A Soldier’s Whisper remembering our veterans one day at a time.

Collecting Veteran Stories Is My Passion: jennylasala.com/