By Carl Hall, 99th INFD, 395th Inf. Regt., Co. C, HQ Co. 1st Bn
It was a cold six hours that we spent on the pier at Southhampton, and to many of us it seemed like we had been there a week. Just before noon we boarded the Queen Emma for our trip across the channel. Most of us slept in hammocks for the first time in our lives that night. We were all worried about falling out, but I guess we were so close together that we couldn’t have turned over if we tried.
Those of us who didn’t get to see the results of the blitz in London got our first glimpse of the destruction brought by war when we sailed into Le Havre, France. There wasn’t a building left untouched. We landed on small boats and made our way through the rubble of the harbor to the trucks that were waiting. That night we travelled in convoy to La Feuillie, where we went into a bivouac area. We stayed there one night and on Nov. 5th (1944) at 0600 we entrucked again and travelled 256 miles to Aubel, Belgium. In a woods just outside of Aubel, we set up a bivouac area.
On Nov. 9th, we again entrucked for the ride that brought us to Elsenborn, and the front lines. It was a miserable day, and before it was finished we found ourselves walking around in a foot of snow. It was the truck ride and the next few days without overshoes that gave many of us a headstart for a bad case of trench foot. As time went on, we came to find out that trench foot and frostbite were going to give us more trouble than the Jerries. On Nov. 9th we relieved the 102nd Cavalry and took up a defensive position in the snow-covered foxholes of Elsenborn. We were on line now and there was an enemy to our front who would kill us all at their first opportunity. Yet the snow seemed so clean and the woods so quiet and beautiful that it was hard to believe at first.
It became a reality, however, on Nov. 11th, Armistice Day, when a recon patrol of 13 men and one officer made contact with the enemy a few hundred yards beyond our positions. In the firefight that followed, 12 of the enemy were killed or wounded and our patrol returned unharmed. The patrol was the first unit in the division to make contact with the enemy, and they were personally commended a few days later by Maj. Gen. Lauer and Col. McKinnsey.
We did a lot of patrolling while we were dug in this defensive position, and only through the good leadership of the officers and non-coms and by the expert soldiering of the men were our casualties kept so low.
The 393rd relieved us on Dec. 11th. We withdrew to an assembly area and on the following day we jumped off into the attack. For the first few days the going was exceptionally rough. In the first day A Co. was in battalion reserve. The battalion advance was made through heavy woods that were littered with fallen trees. The area had been pounded with artillery fire many times when C Co. was giving support to our patrols, and the trees were twisted in every direction. The weather was cold, the terrain was rough, and the ground was covered with a heavy blanket of snow. On “Purple Heart Hill” the artillery fire was extremely intense. At this time, we had no roads up to us and the ammo and rations had to be forwarded by carrying parties.
It has been said that the people who have never been over there and actually been in combat can’t begin to imagine what it was really like. Such a remark is truly an understatement. Probably it is because there hasn’t been a person yet who could write an article and really portray the scenes as they actually happen.
We can say that there was snow on the ground, but we can’t visualize men with wet, cold, swollen feet trudging through the snow-covered woods, expecting any minute to be shot at and maybe killed. We can say that the hill was steep, but we can’t imagine men climbing almost straight up. Wiremen struggling along with rolls of wire, taking one step forward and sliding a half step back. Medics carrying dead and wounded on stretchers, and taking hours to go up or down over the snow-covered hills. Many a wounded man has died because the terrain was so rough that an ambulance couldn’t get to him to evacuate him immediately.
We can say we crossed a small stream, but we can’t imagine how cold it was for the men who waded through the cold water up to their waist, and then shivered and froze the next few days because there were no dry socks or clothes for them to change into. They say in the papers that the action on a certain front was confined to patrols, but they don’t add that half of the outfit were on patrols, and their buddies were sweating out whether they would get back or not. The records read that we withdrew seven miles, but they don’t say that it was at night, in pitch blackness and that the men were stumbling and falling every few steps, and that the fellows hadn’t slept in 24 hours or eaten in just as long. It doesn’t tell about the big fellow who says he can’t go another step and then looks around and wonders what is keeping the little fellow next to him from falling out. It says seven miles, but it doesn’t mention about going cross country, being lost and wading in mud another five miles, or about receiving an inaccurate order and adding another extra three miles more. All those things were omitted, because it is hard to write them and write the truth.
At 0600 on Dec. 17th word came down to prepare to move out. There were many rumors around about a counter-attack that had not been stopped yet. As time went on, we found out that this unchecked counter-attack in reality was the famous Von R. winter offensive, or as it was later called, “The Bulge”. The breakthrough came all along the 99th and 106th division sectors on our right flank. It left us sticking out into Jerryland like a sore thumb, and we were ordered to withdraw before we were cut off. Our next few days were to show us some of the roughest going that we experienced in the entire winter campaign.
The snow was knee deep, all the men were wearing overcoats, overshoes, three or four sets of clothing, and they were carrying two bandolier of ammo, two hand grenades, and full field rolls. At about 1000 we started our withdrawal. It was very orderly when we first started out, but as we went up and down one hill after another, the men became tired and began to lag. The men carrying the machine guns, mortars, flamethrowers and those carrying ammunition began to drop back. The equipment began to get awfully heavy and the men started leaving it along the way. Bed rolls and overcoats were the first things that were discarded, and then some of the men ditched their overshoes. We couldn’t throw away any rations because we didn’t have any. For two days and nights we walked. The first day and most of that night, we withdrew from Hellenthal to Rockerath.
The men were dead on their feet. You heard no bitching, though, nor any of the usual bellyaching. You could have fallen out any time you cared to, but there were no medics behind you to pick you up — just Jerries. It is really amazing what a man can do when all his energy is gone. He can still go a long way on “guts”, and that is what we were travelling on then. We ate what we could pick up along the road. K ration crackers that had been thrown away and trampled on by those who had left before us all tasted good. We passed near an old kitchen dump, and if there was any food at all that looked edible, we picked it up. In one dump, a dog beat me to some hotcakes that were sitting on top of the garbage. Whenever we stopped for a few minute break, we looked in all the foxholes along the way and picked up whatever we could find to eat. All during the retreat we had no water, and water was obtained from the most unhealthful places. Halazone tablets were used to purify the water. I imagine that all this sounds a bit fantastic to some people, but nevertheless it is true. It doesn’t compare, however, with what the men went through who were withdrawing and fighting at the same time.
On the second day, we withdrew another five miles to the outskirts of Elsenborn. It was then we learned that the Jerries had cut our communications and had given us the order to retreat. When this information was received, we turned and traced our steps that night to within a few hundred yards of where we had been that morning. Towards mid-day we ran into sniper fire, but it was soon silenced. We moved again, this time to within sight of our former positions before we jumped off. That night at about 1800 we started out cross country back to Elsenborn. It was the last leg of our rearward journey but at the time we didn’t know it.
The 1st platoon of A Co. was the point for the battalion, and as we withdrew, we passed a few engineers and a couple of tanks. The tanks were to protect our rear and the engineers were laying mines. In combat we were all buddies. Seeing a Col. carrying a Pfc’s BAR didn’t astonish most of the guys. Early the next morning we reached Elsenborn. The houses were silhouetted against the sky that was lit up from the burning villages that we left to the advancing Germans. We can thank our artillery for saving us that night. They threw everything but the kitchen stoves at the Jerries.
Our spirits rose when we saw the houses in Elsenborn. Just think — houses with nice soft, dry, wooden floors. No snow, and walls to break the wind. “This would be great,” we said to each other — but was it? We marched, or should say struggled, down the main street of town. “Our houses must be on the other end of town,” we thought, but we were still going and the houses had disappeared behind us. What now? We just couldn’t go any farther and they said that we were going to Elsenborn. Just out of town, we turned and started across a field. When we reached the other side, they said, “OK men, this is it.” We were stunned. We couldn’t comprehend what was going on, but we were cold, our hands and feet were numb and swollen, so we didn’t try. We just laid down, three or four of us in a bunch to help keep each other warm, and we went to sleep.
In the morning we got a hot meal. I wish that I could write the way we felt, but I can’t. We had the same feeling that morning as we had the day we overran a German POW camp and liberated our American fliers. You get goosebumps all over you, and you try to say something, but you can’t. Instead, you just stare and maybe say a little prayer and thank God that He has brought you safely through the unbelievable nightmare.
When we had finished eating, we read our mail that the mail clerk had brought up on the chow truck, and then we spread out and started digging in. It was a good thing we did, too, because we no sooner had a hole dug than some Jerry planes came over and bombed and strafed us. We stayed in the field another night while the Jerries threw in 88s at their leisure, and on the following day, Dec. 22nd, we moved to the outskirts of Elsenborn and dug in a defensive position around the town. We dug our OP’s in on high ground covering an open field of about 1700 yards. Beyond that were woods and Jerries. On the first two days that we dug in, the weather was foggy and the observation was poor. But when the fog lifted and our movements were observed, the Jerries began to shell us whenever three of us bunched up.
When the weather cleared, our Air Force came out and gave the Jerries a terrible pasting. It was the good weather and the continual bombing and strafing of the German supply lines that turned the Von R. dream into a nightmare. When the “Bulge” was stopped, the job of pounding it back into a pimple began. We were dug in on the northern vein of the “Bulge” and for the next month we remained stationary, while the units on our right pounded the Jerries back against defense.
As the days passed, we improved positions and before long, all the men had made their holes fairly comfortable. Usually the holes were long enough to lay down in and deep enough to sit up in. They were covered with boards or whatever else we could get together to make a roof out of. For Christmas, we had 88s for dessert. We were right in the middle of chow when they started coming in. Some of the fellows hit the snow and spilled their mess kits, with meals going into the snow.
On Jan. 12th (1945), we strung a double apron fence and put up some concertinas in front of our positions. That night it snowed a little, about a foot or so, and it drifted bad. In the morning, the barbed wire entanglements were out of sight and the concertinas were blown around like feathers in the breeze. It was necessary on many occasions for one of the fellows to dig his buddy out in the morning, because in some of the storms, the snow blew into your hole faster than you could shovel it out.
From our positions, we saw a few dogfights in the early morning when the Jerry air force dared to come out. Our ack-ack outfits did a bang-up job and quite a few Jerries came down to earth in flames. One morning, an FW 109 was hit and the pilot parachuted in front of our positions. He got out and started running for his own lines, but when we opened up on him with everything from machine guns to carbines, he quickly changed his mind and surrendered.
On Jan. 26th we left our comfortable quarters and, under cover of darkness, traveled about two miles to relieve the 60th Inf. of the 9th Div. We were still under enemy observation, but this time within rifle range of each other, and it was necessary to stay below the ground during the day.
On the night of Jan. 31st we were alerted, and at 0345 the next morning A Co. moved off into the attack. It was very difficult to see across the open space, covered and drifting with snow. Each man had on a snow cape and some even had their rifles covered with white rags. Reliefs from the different OP’s would occasionally wear white capes when making changes during the day. Movement was generally made at dusk.
At 1500 on Feb. 3rd we entrucked and traveled to an assembly area near Rockerath. The woods along the roads were ruined from artillery, and the fences were lined with crosses of German dead. We were now going back through the places that had been hit the hardest during the “Bulge,” and there was nothing left. Knocked-out German tanks, wrecked vehicles, dead cows and horses, and dead Jerries littered the roads. As the snow melted, there were bodies of Yanks revealed — men who had been killed and snowed under before they could be found.
At 0730 on Feb. 4th we started moving to Hollerath. We were now just before the Siegfried Line. We heard the mission for the day. Twelve pillboxes; six for C Co. and six for A Co. That’s all, just twelve pillboxes. We passed through the many tiger’s teeth and tank obstacles, and by 1715, we had taken our objectives. We spent the night in the pillboxes and at 0800 in the morning we started forward again. At 1700 we again had our objective for the day taken and that night, we dug in on a hill overlooking Hellenthal. We were under direct enemy observation again and couldn’t move from our foxholes in the daytime. We were relieved by the 3rd Battalion and we withdrew to the pillboxes in reserve and remained there until Feb. 11th. After 94 days on the line, we were relieved by the 69th Div.
On Feb. 12th we entrucked and drove to Meyerode, Belgium on the first part of our journey back for a rest. At 0915 on Feb. 20th the company moved out from Meyerode and walked 17 miles to Malmedy. Here we entrucked and rode to Chapelle Des Anges in Belgium. We moved in and before long, we were enjoying the hospitality of the Belgian people.
We left the rest area on Feb. 27th and proceeded to Stolberg, Germany. On the way to Stolberg, we saw Aachen and Duren and they were everything that the papers said about them – just one big pile of destruction. The next morning we rode to an assembly area at Alsdorf, and made preparations for the attack. We all dug in and tried to get as much rest as possible. At 2400 we started out for the forward assembly area near Bergheim, Germany crossing the Erft Canal at dawn. We took up positions in trenches awaiting further orders.
At the time we were in reserve, the 2nd Battalion was pinned down, and the 1st was committed and went out to relieve them. With Baker Company leading, our objective was to clear the woods and then take the town of Hol Fortuna. We passed through the 8th division, and the 3rd armored was deployed on the open terrain behind us. It took us two hours to relieve Fox Company and then on to relieve Easy Company.
Early the next morning, the attack again started and we sent up a platoon to aid in the capture of the town. At about 1200 a factory had to be taken and the two platoons were sent up to take it. As they completed their operation, they noticed the 3d Armored moving across the field on the next objective. It was really a sight to behold, and the armor was on its way to make a mad dash for Cologne and the Rhine.
On March 4th we moved to the town of Anstel and between two moves, we had cleaned up various towns that the armor had gone through. After intense delaying action by the Jerries in front of the town of Delrath, the 1st Battalion finally got to the banks of the Rhine on March 7th.
We remained in this town the next two days and had a chance to get cleaned up and work on our equipment. At various times we would send a platoon out to clear a town that had been overlooked. Then on March 8th we received orders to move, not knowing where, only hoping that it would be a chance to cross the Rhine at Remagen, where a bridge had been established. On the tenth we arrived at Fritzdorf and awaited further orders. They came early the next morning and we started to walk south and east.
At about 1400 we saw the bridge. Shells were coming in fast and aircraft were strafing continually. As we approached, we received orders to run across, and after a twelve mile hike with full equipment, we knew this was the supreme test. Finally, we reached our destination of Ohlenberg —our division was the first full division to get across the Rhine.
On the twelfth of March, B Co. set up a second line of defense behind the 9th Division about 1200 yards out of Ohlenberg. Here we had the flak buzzing around us, in addition to a few bombs dropping around Ohlenberg. Several patrols were then sent to the Wied River from this point, to find a place to cross the river. No such positions could be found, so we waited until a more suitable crossing could be found.
On the 22nd of March we were relieved by the 99th Recon and we moved behind the 2nd Battalion, waiting for them to cross the Wied and follow them up until they hit opposition. Crossing the river early in the morning, the battalion set up roadblocks outside of Rossbach.
On the twenty-fourth we moved from Rossbach to the town of Hochscheid, which was to be a forward assembly area. As the 3rd Battalion finished its objectives, our battalion was given Wallroth to capture. This was an important town as it would cut the superhighway and enable our armor to cut loose. By the next night we had the town, and the armor was well on its way. It was one of those things where one goes to sleep and then wakes up finding himself fifty miles behind the line.
On the night of March 26th we moved to Seishahn and from there we reached out to capture the towns of Roden, Wallinerd, Millsberg, and finally to Wissmar, a town of large size and one that had not been devastated by war. The woods were patrolled, and near the woods a few POWs were flushed out.
The next morning we moved to Heimbach, a point in the drive, and set up outpost and waited for the armor to resupply and break loose again. Then our orders were abruptly changed, and we were shifted to the famed Ruhr Pocket, where the Jerries were not giving up and had plenty of artillery and men, as we soon found out.
Our first objective was the town of Kurlshutte, a factory and several hills. This was the first place that we had very much flak used against us, and it seemed like regular machine-gun fire, until it started to burst. On the succeeding days we captured Kickenback, Allenhunder, Megen and Trichenbech, all against negligible opposition. Then we found ourselves following the 7th Armored again all the way to Kuntrop. Here we shoved off again and ran into opposition outside Imhert, where the pocket gave up. The prisoner toll was immense.
On the 18th of April we received orders to move to the Third Army along with the rest of the Third Corps. We went by truck some three hundred miles. Arriving at Pruppbach, we took a couple days off for care and cleaning and resting. We also received some training for river crossing, which was planned for the Danube in a few days.
This time we found ourselves following the 14th Armored until we hit rivers and canals. Many towns were captured, and by this time every man had a pistol and was a fighting fool. Finally, we hit the Danube at Marching and we were waiting until the 2nd Battalion made a crossing, which unfortunately was not made. We finally crossed where the 393rd had crossed, so we went down there and fought our way back to Setting and Neustadt.
The town of Biebenstetter was taken after a fight with use of tanks. Waking up in the morning, we found ourselves again several miles behind the armor, which had broken loose. We did not catch the armor until we entered Mossburg and found the River Isar to cross. It was a great experience to talk to the liberated prisoners at Mossburg, some from our outfit. The battalion crossed the Isar on April 30th.
On the third of May we moved to Langenvils awaiting further orders — which we knew could not be much, for everyone knew the war was almost over. Then on the 9th of May the news came. I don’t think many of the fellows celebrated— rather, we gave thanks for being alive and were hoping that this war will be the last one.