Amor Huff and the invasion of France

Amor Huff

Recently, in a conversation with a new resident of McCook, the fellow mentioned his fondness for the Higgins landing craft, the little boat that played such an important part in the allied Normandy invasion of Europe, as well as the invasion of so many islands in the Pacific during World War II. This fellow and his brother had both operated one of these boats, and he was lavish with his praise. This reminded me of another fellow from our community who had a similar experience with the Higgins craft.

This invasion, which Hitler had boasted could never happen, signaled the beginning of the end of the war in Europe. Several years ago we were privileged to sit down with Amor Huff, to talk about that invasion and the concurrent invasions of Southern France, and the part which Amor played in getting the fighting men ashore in that historical event.

Amor was a quiet, unassuming fellow, yet one of the most familiar figures in McCook. As one of the co-owners of Ernst’s Dairy, Amor was the epitome of a profession, now extinct — that of a milk delivery man, a calling that Amor took seriously. The stories about Amor, “Milk Man” Huff are many and interesting. However, we’ll leave them for another time.

Andrew Jackson Higgins, center, being congratulated by FDR.

Public Domain

Amor liked to say that his whole life had been in the milk business. But this was not entirely accurate, because during World War II Amor took time off to do his part in winning the war, as a seaman in the United States Navy.

When World War II began the US Marine Corps needed a better Landing Craft than the one then in service, and ordered a version of the Eureka boat from Higgins Industries. This military version of the Eureka was constructed with a mahogany frame and Marine Plywood — plus a steel loading/unloading ramp, which was raised and lowered as needed and served as the bow of the boat. The landing craft was 36’ long and 12’ wide, and was powered by a diesel motor, similar to that used by Greyhound buses of the day. It had a crew of four and could land a platoon of 36 men with their equipment, or a jeep and 12 men, extract itself quickly from the shore, turn around, and go back to get more troops and/or supplies. The Allied commanders loved these little boats, which allowed them to plan their assaults on relatively less-defended coastline areas, rather than having to capture port cities with wharves, which were always heavily defended. Even Hitler acknowledged these little boats and their designer, calling Higgins “The New Noah”.

Amor Huff was an 18-year old in 1944, assigned to an LST (Landing Ship, Tank), the mother ship of the Higgins landing boats. This was a unique vessel in the United States Navy. It was as long as a football field, and 50 feet in width, and carried an incredible cargo of troops, tanks, ammo, as well as six of the Higgins landing craft. The troops commonly referred to their vessel as LST, which they said stood for Large Slow Target, since it was so big and moved so slowly — maximum speed 12 knots. The Atlantic crossing, from Norfolk, VA to Gibraltar took 20 days. Then the troops said that LST stood for Long Slow Trip. The LSTs were lightly armed. They had one 3” cannon and a few 20 mm and 40mm anti-aircraft guns. Their slow speed and light armament made them very attractive targets for enemy subs and planes. When crossing oceans they traveled in a convoy, protected by destroyers. The LSTs had a very shallow draft, designed to go relatively close to shore to discharge their cargo and men, but that meant that they must leave the protection of their Destroyer escorts, which had to stay in the deep water. This left the LSTs virtually defenseless to enemy fire.

Amor served as a signalman while at sea on the LST. But he also served as a member of the four-man crew for one of the LCVPs (Landing Craft Vehicle, Personnel, the Eureka type landing boat), commonly known as a Higgins Boat, so familiar to the public from films such as “The Longest Day” and “Saving Private Ryan”. Though Amor and his LST crew missed the D-Day invasion of Normandy on June 4, 1944, they were very much involved in the 2nd front invasion of Southern France within the month, bringing load after load of men and equipment from the Mother LST to the shore in their Higgins Boats. By the summer of 1945 they had made their way from Europe to the South Pacific, via the Panama Canal, Hawaii, and Okinawa. They were poised to take part in the invasion of Japan in August, 1945, when President Truman ordered the atomic bomb attacks on mainland Japan, which ended the war.

After the war Amor returned to McCook and the milk business, first as an employee and later as co-owner of the Ernst Dairy. In retirement Amor lived the peaceful life, alternating his time as a volunteer at Peace Lutheran Church and making war on the fish population at Hugh Butler Lake, north of McCook — one fish at a time

(On a personal note: In 1976, as part of our celebrating America’s 200th Anniversary, and to celebrate our 25th Wedding Anniversary, Jean and I, together with my father, Walter and our son, Matt, made a very enjoyable trek to Europe. As luck would have it, we arrived at Omaha Beach, one of the beaches where the Allied invasion took place on June 6th, 1944, on the day before Memorial Day. We toured what had been the scene of fierce fighting and our guide pointed out just where various stages of the battle had occurred.

Our last stop on that tour was to the cemetery at Omaha Beach. It is truly an awe inspiring sight, those thousands of crosses, row on row, each cross marking the final resting place of one of our boys who was killed in that fight. The cemetery is immaculately groomed, and sits on level ground atop those rugged cliffs, overlooking the sea.

Because we were there on the day before the holiday there were no crowds. Yet there was a flurry of activity, as a small army of French workmen scurried to get the site ready for the crowds that would be there for the ceremonies scheduled for the next day.

There was silence as each of us, contemplating all those crosses, struggled to take in the import of what it all meant, the families in America, who could not visit the grave of their loved one, the boys, taken in the prime of their lives, sacrificing their lives that the French, and all of us, might live our lives as free men and women.

We were in that state of reverie, surveying those crosses, when one of the French workmen approached us. He was carrying a handful of American flags, one of which he would place next to each cross — one American flag and one French flag, side by side.

In broken English, the workman turned directly to 13 year old Matt, and handed him the handful of American flags and indicated that he should accompany him. Matt would place the American flag as he placed the French flag at each grave. There were tears in his eyes, as I’m sure there were in ours, as he told how the sacrifice of those American boys had enabled him to live his life as a free man.

Matt proudly helped plant the flags for perhaps 15 minutes. As he turned to rejoin us, the French workman impulsively embraced Matt, kissed him, once on each cheek, and with Merci (thank you), repeated numerous times — for Matt’s help, and for the help of America in saving his country — he reluctantly bade us Adieu.)