World War II account of Cliff Goodall
7^th US Naval Beach Battalion

            Al, my officer in Normandy – when we went off Normandy and were sent back to Southampton, ENG, they put us over to the R&R Camp.  I never saw him again over there, but heard he shot up a pub.  Back about ten years now, I located him in Nagadotchez, TX so I called him and he said, “Cliff Goodall, Cliff Goodall … oh yeah.”  And I said, “Are you the guy who had a little trouble in the pub?”  He said, “NO – I had a lot of trouble!”  He went in the pub with two or three other guys and in came three British officers.  He had been drinking quite a bit and started yelling, “Get those - - - out of here.”  And then he started firing his gun, shooting in the ceiling.  He found out that two elderly people were upstairs and it scared him to death to think what might have happened.  He drank all through college, his career, and on until he finally went to AA, but I never knew he was an alcoholic.  When I saw him he said he hadn’t had a drink in 47 years.  Since I found him, he came to the 1994 reunion, but died soon afterwards.  It was great to know that he built a building for the AA in Texas.

            I don’t remember now how long after arriving in England they built a signal tower with a light.  Of course the Germans were coming over every night.  I had watch almost every night and during one night when the Germans were coming dropping flares looking for the ANCON (that’s the ship out in the harbor where Eisenhower & all the other bigwigs were meeting).  I had a colonel in the army come up to me and said, “Open up the light and I want you to call some LCT out there.”  I said, “Sir, do you realize that they’re dropping flares and looking for targets of opportunity?”  He said. “Yes” and told me “You’re really smart – open up the light!”  And I did and I was scared to death.  It was dark and with that light shining I signaled the LCT but he wouldn’t answer.  He was smarter than we were.

            William Mesquita and I were in Salcombe, ENG in the same Quonset hut.  His bunk was next to mine as a matter of fact.   We had mail call and he received some newspapers and letters from home.  His family had circled his obituary in the newspaper.  He made some remark about how they could have at least waited until after the invasion and everybody was laughing.  Lo and behold if he didn’t get killed during the invasion – it was so ironic.

            Reward from group when I got back to Oceanside, CA –
            It all started in England.  On the beach I was assigned to the causeway and we were bringing in the LCPs.  This is after they were coming in by the beach.  They sunk the causeway which was made out of portable pontoons.  I was the signalman (magnificent job I did too).  The tide was terrific, 20-30 feet when the tide rushed in.  The pontoon fits the dune shape after the tide comes in.  I turn around and see I’ve got two feet of water behind me to go through.  We were bringing in British LCTs.  He was coming straight in and I signaled him & told him to back off.  So he gives me a “Roger” but he still kept coming.  My officer said, “Signal again.”  So I signaled “STOP!”  He said “Roger” (You just can’t stop this ship on a dime.)  So the screws got tangled up in the causeway and the tide was going way out.  The front end (loaded with 4 or 5 trucks) went down and the screws were up in the air.  The tide went out further and they couldn’t get things out.  The LCT broke in two.  They tried to blame it on me – it wasn’t funny.  I got off that beach on AUG 29^th and they sent me to Oceanside, CA, arriving by early SEPT.  They called muster out one morning and the officer who was a good friend of mine said, “Goodall – front and center!”  I walked out & saluted.  He had a scroll they had made up.  He opened up the scroll and it said, “For meritorious service to the German navy.”  The scroll had an iron cross they had made.  And they said I earned this award because I had sank more ships than the entire US Navy!

            One of our guys recently wrote about he and Johnny Oates walking down the beach and the gas alert was sounded.  It reminded me of being in the fox hole when a big explosion took place back inland.  I don’t know if it was a bomb or an ammo dump that was hit but it caved in the fox hole and I had all I could do to get myself and gun out.  I couldn’t find my gas mask, but I thought what the hell nothing has happened so far, so don’t worry.  In the meantime, they moved us up into tents, and I had the watch one night and it was kind of eerie, hardly any sounds and if I recall 3 or 4 LSTs beached.  All of a sudden some dummy on one of the LSTs started using one of those New Years clackers and shouting “gas, gas”.  I ran to my fox hole and started digging to see if I could find my gas mask, but no dice; so I figured I was a goner, but I still had to alert the guys in the tents up the hill.  The first guy I woke up was Captain John Hammond of the 149^th Combat Engineers whom I had been assigned to work with.  He grumbled something and got up and put his jacket on and we went outside.  I tried to get some sympathy for me by telling him I had no gas mask, but I think he must have thought I wasn’t too smart losing it in the first place, but not replacing it.  A few minutes later the all clear was sounded and I felt much better – it was a false alarm.
This sounds like a different time than when our two guys had the alert.  It sounded like daytime when this happened to them.

Cliff Goodall

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