LIKE MANY PEOPLE who served in World War II, Orange County's Heywood Johnson has certain scenes burned into his brain with transcendent clarity.
There's one in particular that haunts the 85-year-old veteran, a driver for the celebrated "Red Ball Express" transport corps that shuttled mountains of ammo, gas and more from Normandy to the advancing Allied armies in 1944.
Johnson's emotionally charged moment came on one of those runs, driving one of the heavy transports that he and another driver kept on the road 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
On that fateful day, Johnson gritted his teeth watching a crew load the final cases of ammunition onto his truck.
It was time to go, and his assistant had wandered off.
The Army's 140 truck companies in the transport service had an ironclad rule: Except for loading or unloading, a truck never sat still.
The assistant arrived a minute or so later, though by then he'd earned a lecture on punctuality.
Rolling the big truck out onto the road, Johnson kept one eye on the skies, where German "buzz bombs" often appeared.
"Suddenly, we heard an explosion on the road up ahead," said Johnson. "When we came to a curve in the road, there was a buzz bomb burning, the road all torn up on our side."
Seeing the flames burn brightly all these years later, he added, "If we'd left on time, if he hadn't made me wait that extra minute, that's right about where we would have been. That bomb might have dropped down right on us."
Last week, two Orange County historical societies honored Johnson for his service in the unit that's gotten a great deal of attention in recent years.
Warren Dunn, executive director of the Orange County Historical Society, noted that the unit, which took its name from the railroad term for "Priority Freight," was critical to the success of the Allied armies.
"As giant stockpiles of war materiel grew along the Normandy beaches and the port cities of France, getting those desperately needed supplies to the front could make the difference between pursuing the retreating German army into Germany or having the allied advance grind to a halt," Dunn said.
"An average of 900 fully loaded trucks a day, driving nonstop on a 54-hour round trip, regardless of weather, frequently under attack from enemy aircraft and ambushes by enemy troops operating behind enemy lines, delivered more than 412,000 tons of essential supplies."
Eventually, Dunn said, more than 5,000 trucks made up the Red Ball Express, with 75 percent of its drivers African-Americans.
After receiving the award, Johnson chatted about his 11/2-year stint as a Red Ball driver.
"I signed up to be in a medic unit, and soon enough found myself in transport," said the tall, spry honoree, who worked for 30 years at the Waugh Furniture store in Orange. "But I liked driving all right. I was going to do whatever they asked me to."
He was one of the "lucky" drivers, shot at but never hit.
When you're hauling a load of live ammo, or especially, artillery shells, not getting hit is a pretty serious concern, Johnson noted.
Though he and the other drivers seldom passed into enemy territory, they often encountered enemy soldiers in areas where fast-moving infantry had left behind pockets of German soldiers.
"We passed by some Germans along a road one day, some with rifles pointed out way," he said. "I told the other driver not to dare put his hand on our gun. We got by without anyone firing a shot."
Johnson said that although he carried a small tent with him, it got little use. Instead, he stole catnaps in the truck cab as he and his assistant took turns driving.
"I'd put my canteen full of water on the manifold," he said. "That became my hot bath. And sometimes, we'd put cans of C-rations on the manifold. The hash was better hot."
One of his shakier moments came when a young American officer offered him a deal.
"There were some soldiers in the black market over there," he said. "One asked me if I'd sell him my whole truck, simply drive it in a gate and walk away. Another wanted to buy my load of cigarettes."
Johnson had no trouble refusing all offers.
Like many World War II veterans, Johnson didn't say much about his service once back home.
That's just one reason one of Johnson's children, Marilyn Williams, enjoyed hearing about his unit at the award ceremony.
"The only time he talked about his time there was when my kids interviewed him for school projects," she said. "We're very proud of him."
To reach ROB HEDELT: 540/374-5415 rhedelt@freelancestar.com