ST. GEORGE — For more than 130 years, the Utah National Guard has upheld a proud legacy of military service, with its citizen soldiers demonstrating unwavering courage and resolve in the face of death.
From the early skirmishes of the Walker and Black Hawk Indian Wars to the battles of the Spanish-American War, the Mexican Border War, the Philippine Insurrection, World War I, World War II, Korea, and Iraq, each soldier has stood as a band of brothers, united in a commitment to duty, honor and country.
Although its roots can be traced to the Nauvoo Legion (1841-1845), Mormon Battalion (1846-1847), and Utah Territorial Militia (1848-1870), it wasn’t until the Utah National Guard was officially established in March 1894, that it evolved and adapted to the changing face of combat during a new era of industrialized warfare.
Battlefields would soon become a labyrinth of trenches, bunkers and fortified lines, as armies dug in for protracted conflicts. Barbed wire, minefields, and other obstacles protected the fortifications, making traditional cavalry charges and infantry assaults increasingly futile.
Aerial warfare emerged as a new dimension of combat, bringing together the lethal prongs of innovative air-to-air combat tactics, maneuverable reconnaissance platforms, bombing raids and dogfighting. Chemical warfare also debuted during this period, with the first use of poison gas in 1917. The horrors of mustard gas and other chemical agents added a new layer of brutality to modern warfare.
By 1914, combat had undergone a transformation, paving the way for more catastrophic conflicts in the future. From the blood-soaked trenches of France to the stifling heat and humidity of the Pacific Theater, Utah’s citizen-soldiers have answered the call to arms.
World War I (1914-1918)
In the early morning mist of July 28, 1914, a shot rang out in Sarajevo, echoing across the European continent.
The assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria had just set the stage for a conflict that would soon engulf the world. World War I, the Great War, had begun.
Nels Anderson, a man of “resilience” and “intellect,” served in the U.S. Army during the tumultuous times of World War I. His detailed journal entries of key battles including the Battle of St. Mihiel and Meuse-Argonne offensive offers a unique window into the life of an American soldier during wartime. Date and location undefined | Photo courtesy Utah University Press, St. George News
In the heartland of America, in the quiet town of Barclay – also known as Clover Valley, Utah – a young man, Nels Anderson felt the tremors of this distant event. As news of the broadening war trickled in, Anderson’s life was about to change.
Born in the bustling city of Chicago in 1889, his journeys eventually took him to Utah, and acceptance within the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In April 1918, Anderson enlisted in the Army where he was assigned to Company E of the 314th Engineers Regiment, a component of the 89th Infantry Division.
Despite the military leadership’s disapproval of keeping diaries during the war, Anderson chose to defy convention.
From June 9, 1918, to April 27, 1919, Anderson faithfully kept a diary as his military service from New York to England, France then Belgium, Luxembourg and Germany. Spending much of his time at the front, he participated in both the battle for St. Mihiel (September 1918) and the Meuse-Argonne Offensive (October 1918).
It was during the Meuse-Argonne Offensive that Anderson witnesses some of the war’s greatest atrocities.
October 8 – 14, 1918: “Marching with full pack at night is hard on ankles,” Anderson said. “Some of the fellows dropped out because they were more discouraged than tired. We got in (in) the morning with about half a company. All day long men have been dragging in. Everyone is so lame that walking is difficult. Everything we have is wet, all that will rust is rusty. The captain says that this is a hot front though he did not say where we are, but I think we are behind the Argonne.
Towards evening we walk out of the woods to where we are. I shall never forget that woods. Not a tree in it three inches through that has not been pierced all the big trees are torn with shrapnel and their limbs and tops have in many cases been blown off. Shell holes are so numerous that the(y) touch each other in places.
October 20 – 29: “The Allies are advancing very fast in the North and the outlook for an early peace is bright. I am feeling pretty well, and I hope the Lord will bless me with enough strength and courage to hold out.
U.S. soldiers of the 23rd Infantry, 2nd Division, firing a 37mm machine gun at a German position in the Argonne Forest, during the Meuse-Argonne offensive. Circa 1918. | Photo courtesy U.S. Army Signal Corps/American Stock/Getty Images, St. George News
“On our way in we got a few farewell shots that scattered dirt around us but hurt no one. I did not run. I was tired and I have got myself to believe that it is foolish to run for to run feeds fear and if the shells are going to get one, they will get him anyway,” he added.
Within about one month, Anderson came across four soldiers from the 32nd Division, who had been lying there since the last offensive. One image that will forever be etched in his mind is that of a young man who apparently succumbed to the concussive blast of an artillery round.
His body was frozen in a stark pose — on his back, knees bent upwards, arms outstretched with fingers spread wide and tense. His head was thrown back, mouth agape, eyes staring blankly into the distance, and his face had a deathly blue hue. It’s a cruel reality of war that Anderson had to leave these men un-buried, a harsh truth that he struggled to accept.
“Going along a trail last evening I fell over a dead man. He was a 32nd Div. lad and had been lying there for days. I couldn’t help but think how I would have shuddered at such an experience a year ago,” Anderson said.
November 1 – 5: “The shells were coming over pretty fast and they caught us on an open slope. They were only small ones, some gas. Another lad and I were together we noted that they were coming over in two and threes about 10 seconds apart, so we took advantage of those intervals to run from one shell hole to another and flop. Philips was not taking that precaution. I saw him and another fellow get it. They were in the open. A shell came. They fell to their knees and before they could flatten out another hit 25 feet from them and perhaps 100 feet from us. It got them both. Two other fellows were killed and several wounded in our company on the same hill while several trucks had been hit and were burning on the road.
“Many prisoners came in … some of them seemed pleased to be alive but the older ones were pretty sullen. They were poorly dressed and poor in spirits. Most of them were very young,” he said.
As the war drew to a close, Anderson’s unit advanced to the west bank of the Meuse River, where he witnessed the devastating consequences of war firsthand. In the final days, he saw friends fall victim to artillery barrages, a multitude of civilian casualties, and the terror of gas attacks.
French refugees flee the devastation during World War I with nothing more than the clothes on their backs. Date and location not specified | Photo courtesy Education Images/Universal Images Group via Getty Images, St. George News
The intensity of the war’s final days left an indelible mark on Anderson. Every moment served as a poignant reminder of the price of war.
“There is a little town on this side of the Meuse River that according to the natives the Germans just left during the night they told the French to get out for they were going to shell the town,” Anderson said.
“I’ll never forget those poor people leaving. We met the first ones at the bridge “D” Co was building and we continued to meet them all the forenoon. They were mostly old men and women and children. Many of them tottering and feeble. They were carrying heavy bundles and wheeling barrows or pulling wagons loaded with their treasures. Some of them left a lot of their stuff because of the trees in the road. Some of the children were crying and the babes would not be soothed by us, they were afraid of soldiers. The enemy sent a few shells over and some lit near, but the people didn’t seem to mind.”
The German armistice delegation crossed through the French lines the night of Nov. 7, 1918, signing the instruments of surrender four days later at 5:10 a.m.
November 11: On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month; five months to the hour when Anderson had marched aboard the Carpathia bound for Europe, his comrades heard the last guns fire.
The last shots of World War I were believed to have been fired by a British soldier – Pvt. Henry Gunther – who was serving with the 313th Infantry Regiment of the 79th Division. Although Gunther fought gallantly on the last day of the war, he was killed at 10:59 a.m., November 11, one minute before the Armistice went into effect.
Thankful that he had not been wounded in the last days of the war or killed in its last minutes, Anderson wrote in amazement on November 11.
“I didn’t hear (anything) because I was asleep,” Anderson said. “I didn’t wake till straight up noon. The first thing I asked was have the guns stopped. ‘Hell yes, an hour ago.’
“So, this is peace and I am alive. I am so surprised. I don’t know how to act so I just sit and think. I don’t feel like yelling no one is yelling around here. How good it is to be alive. I had set aside all hopes and now they assert themselves one by one. I have a future again. It is the greatest thing to live for. I was glad to get in this fight that my future would not be an apology,” he added.
Anderson survived the war and lived to the ripe old age of 97.
World War II (1939-1945)
As the 1930s drew to a close, the United States found itself ill-prepared for war.
The nation, still grappling with the aftermath of the Great Depression, functioned with a budget under stress. Recognizing the escalating threat from Germany once more, Congress bolstered the defense budget, and in May 1940, the National Guard was summoned into federal service.
The call to arms was answered by more than 4,000 enlisted men and 150 officers from the Utah National Guard. A significant number were assigned to the 40th Division, a composite unit that included members of the National Guard units from Utah, California and Nevada.
Following the declaration of war on Dec. 8, 1941, it became certain that the units, which had originally joined the 40th Division during peacetime, would undergo restructuring. Several battalions were reassigned or re-designated to create new units or bolster existing ones.
The 2nd Battalion 222nd Field Artillery, also known as the “Triple Deuce,” is one of these storied battalions.
In the course of World War II, a significant reorganization took place within the 222nd Field Artillery Regiment’s two battalions. This led to the transformation of the 1st Battalion into the 222nd Field Artillery Battalion, while the 2nd Battalion evolved into the 204th Field Artillery Battalion.
The 222nd Field Artillery Battalion was assigned to combat in the Pacific, while the 204th Field Artillery Battalion, which included Battery D stationed in Mt. Pleasant, Battery E in Richfield, Battery F in Cedar City, and the Headquarters Battery in Beaver, was deployed to Europe.
The 204th Field Artillery Battalion subsequently played a significant role in several pivotal campaigns. These included Normandy, Northern France, Rhineland, Ardennes-Alsace, and Central Europe.
Lynn Poulsen, assigned to the 204th Field Artillery Battalion during World War II, survived the war, but only from Devine Providence and the heroism of a friend. Date and location undefined | Photo courtesy University of Utah, St. George News
One notable soldier, Lynn Poulsen, served in the 204th and endured an extraordinary stretch of continuous combat, lasting more than 300 days without relief.
Born on Jan. 20, 1921, in Rexburg, Idaho, Poulsen spent his early years in Mt. Pleasant, Utah, before his enlistment. In 1944, he was sent to Normandy and assigned as a forward observer to the 204th, which by then was part of XX Corps and Gen. George Patton’s 3rd Army.
While on patrol in Northern France, Poulsen was shot three times, but the hospital had so many casualties he had to be moved to a soccer field where he was placed in a six-man tent that also served as an operating room. While on the “table,” German aircraft began bombing the area. It became so dangerous that the medical personnel almost immediately fled, leaving Poulsen alone to meet his fate.
Luckily, his best friend, Bill Beck, grasped the seriousness of what was happening and rescued Poulsen from the bombing.
Until his death in 2012, Poulsen continued to treasure a handkerchief emblazoned with the 204th motto: “Hell Has No Fire Like Our Fire,” a testament to his enduring pride and connection to his unit.
In the Pacific Theater, thousands of miles away, Utah National Guard units were engaged in combat with the 40th Division. While most of the 40th was from California, some of the supporting artillery units, quartermasters and medics were from Nevada and Utah. The 222nd Field Artillery Battalion (formerly the 1st Battalion 222nd Field Artillery Regiment), was one of these units.
In September 1942, on its way to the combat zone, the division reached Hawaii and assumed defensive positions on the outer islands. By December, the 40th had relocated to Guadalcanal for further training and restricted combat patrols. During their time on the “Canal,” the division did not participate in major battles; rather, they fought the island’s challenging muddy terrain, sweltering, humid swamps, and the prevalence of malaria.
By March 1945, the 40th would finally see its first combat assignment of the war — the invasion of Panay and Los Negros located in the Philippine Islands. After months of planning and troop movement, the 40th arrived at the staging point.
At 9:30 a.m., March 18, the invasion began.
The initial assault faced minimal resistance as units advanced towards their objectives. However, as the fighting progressed resistance intensified, leading to several significant engagements including the Battle of Hill 3155.
All Ashore at Los Negros. The first American landing boat hits the shore of Los Negros Island and troops of the 1st U. S. cavalry Division stream into the jungle to meet the enemy. Date and location undefined | Photo courtesy Getty Images, St. George News
The advance moved slowly because of an entrenched enemy laying down heavy sustained fire. Eventually, after waves of artillery bombardments, the 40th crested the hill and claimed the objective.
Although not a Utah serviceman, Staff Sgt. John C. Sjogren, assigned to the 40th Infantry Division, played a crucial role in the Battle for Hill 3155.
According to Travis Taylor, a former student author at Michigan Tech, on May 23, 1945, Sjogren’s company received orders to capture the strategic hill. Instead of launching a direct assault, the platoon executed a daring flanking maneuver.
Although some considered it a suicide mission, Sjogren’s squad pressed on, leveraging their knowledge of the terrain, gained from a previous night’s reconnaissance. With caution, Sjogren and his men led the company up the hill just before dawn.
“I told the rest of my squad to start passing up hand grenades, which they thought I was being a fool as this would give away our position, but I started heaving them wherever I figured (they) were, I could hear them holler,” Sjogren said. “Bullets were flying all around us. Sometimes I threw them from my knees and other times on my belly. I was lying behind a log a few yards ahead of my unit and I could see some of the (enemy soldiers) starting to take off. I shouted, ‘Let’s go.’ and we pushed ahead.”
Yet, to make progress, Sjogren had to willingly place himself in harm’s way.
I squirmed up close enough to toss a grenade through the hole in the top of the pillbox. My squad kept picking them off as they tried to run from their holes. They also kept me covered as I crept up close to one pillbox after another. Sometimes I threw a grenade from 20 yards and sometimes I got within a yard and pushed grenades in. That’s about all there was to it.
Sjogren is credited with killing 49 Japanese soldiers including one in hand-to-hand combat during the assault. After 50 hours of continuous fighting, the hill was secure. At the end of the Panay and Negros campaigns, more than 4,000 enemy soldiers had been killed or captured.
During the battle, Sjogren was wounded several times. For his actions on Hill 3155, he was later awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor on Oct. 12, 1945, by President Harry S. Truman.
By June 1945, there were 62,107 Utah servicemen in active military service. Eventually more than 75,000 Utah servicemen served in the war, with 2,690 wounded and 2,628 making the ultimate sacrifice for their nation.
After World II ended, the Utah National Guard units returned home. The 204th Field Artillery Battalion of Southern Utah would be re-designated as the 213th Armored Field Artillery Battalion with Headquarters in Cedar City, Abel Battery in Richfield, Baker Battery in St George, Charlie Battery in Fillmore and Service Battery in Beaver.
In little more than a handful of years the men from Utah would soon fight again on the battlefields of Korea.
This is the first in a three-part history on the 2-222nd Field Artillery, with the forthcoming Part 2 set to cover the battalion’s time in Korea.
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