In 1943, I left New York Harbor with thousands of fellow GI’s. I boarded the Queen Elizabeth as a young, idealistic 17-year-old boy fresh out of High School …

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I was 21 years old when I went into the Army. I took my basic training at Fort Eustis, Virginia. I was sent to Camp Stewart, Georgia. It was an anti-aircraft outfit. There were four batteries to a battalion and I was put in Battery D. They made me a gunner on the 50 caliber machine gun. There were two sections to a battery and each section had 40 millimeter guns. They had a Sergeant, 2 Corporals, 2 truck drivers plus 12 men in each section. We would go to the firing range and shoot at a sleeve target that was towed by an airplane. It was pretty hard to hit the target, but the more we shot, the better we got. We also had to leam how to identify German airplanes. One day we loaded all of our guns and trucks on railroad cars and went to Camp Carrebell, Florida where we were to begin amphibious landing training. They would put us in LCI or LCP Boats and go out into the Gulf of Mexico about a mile, then they would turn around and head for shore. Sometimes the landing crafts would hit a sandbar, they would let down the ramp and we had to get off. Sometimes the water was two feet deep and other times it would be up to our chest. While we were there, we went through the infiltration course. We had to crawl under barbed wire while they were shooting live ammunition over our heads. One night, they took us to a tall building that had a cargo net over the side. We had to get on the net and go down it into a boat that was at the bottom. They had some soldiers at the bottom that would swing the net simulating a ship that was sinking. We went back to Camp Stewart and our Colonel made us pitch our pup tents on the ground in the open field.

In July, we went to Tennessee for maneuvers. It was hot and dusty and our Colonel would not give the drivers any rest so they had a bad time staying on the road. One day, a truck with some soldiers in it from another battery went over a cliff. Two soldiers were killed and the rest were sent to a hospital. Then our Colonel decided to change out drivers. We stayed in Tennessee awaiting orders to go overseas. We finally went to Camp Shanks, New York and got on a ship that took 14 days to cross the Atlantic. We landed in England and took over a vacated school Chat we used for our barracks. In March, we became part of the 4¹¹¹ Division area and my gun crew was sent on maneuvers with them up in Wales. We had to waterproof all of our guns and trucks and then we went out into the channel. One night while we were out, we were attacked by German E-Boats and lost 749 soldiers and sailors. The Army kept it a secret for 40 years. Today there’s a monument in honor of all the men that lost their Jives that day.

While we were in Wales, my Sergeant got sick and went to the hospital. He never came back, so the Captain made me acting Sergeant. When we got back, I saw some strange trucks in the motor pool. They were called half tracks and had four 50-caliber machine guns mounted on a turret. These guns could turn all around as well as up and down. An officer and a Corporal came over to me. The officer said he would like me to take command of one of the tracks but said I would only be a Corporal. He said he knew I would be a Sergeant soon, but he still wanted me to take the half track. He said I had to make up my mind what I wanted to do. I told him I would take the half track, so the Corporal that was with him became a Sergeant instead. Now I had to pick my own men for the track. There would be only five of us and a driver. I picked men that I knew were good with the machine gun and also a good driver.

The invasion began on June 6^th and my battalion went in at Utah Beach on the 12* of June. The 4^th Division had gone in on D-Day, June 6^th. My half track was sent to the 42^nd Field Artillery. They had four tanks with 105mm Howitzers. Their Captain treated us as one of his own soldiers. He made sure that if we needed anything we got it. We would get all our rations and our clothes if we needed any from them in convoy. After we took Cherbourg, we were in what they called The Hedgerow Country. The Germans had dug into the hedgerows and had good cover in which to hide. Our infantry was losing a lot of soldiers and could not make any headway. General “Teddy” Roosevelt was given the job to get the infantry moving. The General got the idea of using the half tracks up front to strafe the hedgerows because we had so much fire power. Each one of our guns would fire 500 to 600 rounds a minute. So on July 12^th we went up front. I set up in a field and had my men dig their fox holes about 30 yards from the track. My Captain came up to see how we were set up and asked me where my fox holes were. I told him where and he said to “dig them around the half track”. I told him I thought it was a bad idea because the Germans would try to knock out the half tracks and a near miss would put my men in danger. He said “that’s an order.” So while he was still there, I had my men start to dig. As soon as he left. I told my men to use the holes they had first dug. The Captain went to another track that was two fields away from mine and he told that Corporal the same thing he told me and that’s what the Corporal had his men do. We were hooked up by phone to an officer who was up front and could see the Germans and he would tell us when to shoot and when to stop. We would shoot so much and for so long that sometimes one of the barrels would burn out. We had eight extra barrels that we had tested on the firing range. With special gloves, the men would change the burned out barrel and keep on shooting. That first day, my driver started to cry. He couldn’t take it so I put him in a fox hole and told him to stay there so he would feel safer. When we got back that day to a safe area, I told my Captain that I wanted a new driver. I told him why and so he gave me someone else. We went up again the next day and did the same thing. That night, a good friend of mine who was on the track two fields away would not say anything. He was always joking around and laughing, but this night he wouldn’t say anything. I asked him what was wrong and he said he felt funny and could not explain how he felt. He said he wasn’t sick or afraid, he just felt funny. I told him to stay behind the next day but he said he was going up anyway. By this time the Germans knew just about where we were and the shells were getting closer. One exploded pretty close so I told my men to get into the fox holes. The next volley came in and a shell hit a tree two fields away. When it exploded, it covered all of the half track and the fox holes. The driver was hiding under the track so he didn’t get hit and he came running to me and said all the men were wounded. I told him to stay with my men and I ran over to the track. The first hole had the Corporal in it and he had a big hole in his hip. I used both my first aid kit and his to bandage his hip and he said to look after the rest of the men. I checked the holes on that side and they were empty. I ran around the track and the last fox hole had my friend in it. I knew he was dead because he had shrapnel holes in his back and his helmet. 1 took him out of the hole, dragged him away from the track, and covered him with a blanket. By this time, our Captain heard about it and came up. Well I was so mad at him, that I made a lunge towards him but he held out his hands to stop me and said, “I guess you were right about digging the fox holes away from the track,” but it was too late… I lost a good friend. We heard later that Teddy Roosevelt asked our officers, “what are your half tracks doing, they are killing all the Germans by themselves,” so I think we did a good job because now our infantry was starting to gain ground.

Next came St. Lo. This time the big brass got the air corps to help. Three thousand airplanes were to leave England and bomb the Germans. The artillery was to mark the front lines with smoke shells and the planes were to drop their bombs beyond the smoke onto the Germans. Well the first wave of planes did, but somehow the wind drifted back blowing the smoke onto our soldiers. Before the big brass got word to the planes, we lost a lot of soldiers and also a General NC Near.

The Falaise Gap is where we had thousands of Germans surrounded and the English were to close the Gap to the North of us but they must have stopped for tea because thousands of Germans got away to fight another day. We were now getting close to Paris and the 4^th Division could have gone into Paris but the big brass wanted to give the honor to the French’s General LeClare. So the 4¹¹¹ Division had to wait for them to catch up, they got in front of the 4^th Division and marched into Paris. We were the first Americans in Paris and the people went crazy. We could not move our track because we would have run over someone. The people were wall to wall on the streets. They would give us wine and flowers and the girls would climb on all the trucks, jeeps and half tracks kissing everyone. They were so happy to be free from the Germans. We spent the night in the park but no one slept because the French would come over with gifts and wanted to talk.

We left the next morning and had the Germans on the run. It was open country and our tanks were moving right along with no trouble. We set up one day near a town called San Quenten. A boy and girl about their teen years came by and were looking at our track. I got talking to them and they made me understand they came from Italy and they wanted me to go see their parents. So I went and their parents were very happy to see us. They made us some coffee that was made of roasted wheat and chicory. It was awful, but we said it was good. The father asked us if the Germans would come back. I told him they were gone for good. He then took me outside and started to dig until he uncovered a long box where he had hidden two bikes. He told us that if the Germans knew he had the bikes they would have taken them. He told us there would be a street dance that night and we should go see it. Two of us went and the people were singing and dancing and, of course, drinking. The men came out to the square and they had two women with them. These two had been collaborating with the German soldiers so they put them in the center of the square and shaved the hair off of their heads.

We were on the move again. We were in convoy when a German airplane came out of nowhere and began strafing the convoy. My men and I jumped off the half track and jumped into the ditches and empty fox holes that were nearby. It was dusk when this happened and by the time it was over and we were able to get back into our track it was dark. There was a smell like someone had crapped in their pants, so we looked at everyone on the track and we saw that one of my men had jumped into a fox hole that a soldier had used as a latrine. This poor guy was covered all the way down the front of him so he had to throw away his clothes and put on clean ones. We had a good laugh over that.

It was stop and go all night and in the morning, we found out why. Our airplanes had strafed a German convoy that was using horses and wagons to move…the road was full of dead Germans and horses. We finally got a tank with a snow blade on it to push everything off the road. The word came down that if we saw horses that were badly wounded to shoot them rather than make them suffer. It was hard to shoot some of the horses because they were so beautiful. It was 2:30PM when we finally got to set up. We dug our fox holes, ate our C-rations and now it was getting dark. My men asked, “Who was going to start pulling guard?” I told them no one because we could see the battalion headquarters in a field near us. I said if they’re here, we must be miles from the front. Besides, we would be up early. The next thing I knew, someone was shaking my foot. I looked up and it was my platoon Sergeant who I hadn’t seen since we left England. He asked me who was on guard and I told him no one. He said the Captain was on the road and wanted to see me. So I reported to the Captain and he wanted to know who fell asleep while on guard so he could court marshal the soldier that fell asleep. Well that’s all I had to hear. My men and I had been together for two and a half years and we were like brothers so I wasn’t going to tell him anyway. When I told the Captain I didn’t post anyone, he told me, “you’re a buck private; who’s next in command?” Each one of my men was called up to the Captain and they all said if Tedesco was not good enough, neither were they. He got red in the face and said he would find someone to take command. We got a new Corporal from one of the 40 millimeter guns. He was with us two weeks and one day he was up in the turret of the gun when off in the distance we could hear anti-aircraft firing. It had to be a German plane so I told the Corporal to get ready just in case the plane would come within our range. Well the plane did come and I am yelling at the Corporal to shoot, but he never did. The phone rang and they wanted to know how many rounds we fired. I gave the phone to the Corporal and he said he did not shoot because he thought they were friendly planes. Later that day, he took me aside and said that he did not know how to operate the guns. I said, “you mean to tell me Chat for two weeks our lives were in your hands and you’re just telling me now you don’t know how to operate the guns.” So I had to teach him all about the guns. The war was something else. Back home the only time we would see someone dead was at a wake. Now all we would see were dead soldiers every day both Germans and Americans so it’s hard to see what the war was [ike. When the weather was hot, they would bloat up to twice their size. Between the smell of all of them, plus the dead cows and horses, it would make you sick. But as time went by, you got so used to it that you forgot what fresh air smelted like. You also had to get used to seeing just parts of bodies and soldiers so burned up you couldn’t tell if they were Germans or Americans.

Our Division was then sent to the Huertgen Forest. This place was hell. You were afraid to put your foot down because the Germans had put mines under the leaves and many soldiers lost their feet and legs. When the Germans would shell us, the shell would hit the tree tops and explode raining iron shrapnel down on us. I was lucky to get the engineers to clear a path up a hill. Once they cleared the path, they put white tape around the trees on both sides and we had to stay inside those white tapes. We were so high up, one day German planes flew by and we were eye level with them. I was the first one to get into the gun turret. I picked up the first plane in my sights and although we were taught to shoot short bursts, I shot almost all my ammunition at the first plane because if I was short, the bullets might hit one of the planes that were behind the first one. [ saw smoke coming out of the first plane so I knew he was hit. He made a right turn and headed towards his front but it was too far to hear if he crashed. We were there from November to December and then we finally got a rest. We drove to Luxembourg and for two days we thought the war was over.

We got to Luxembourg on the 12^th of December and on the 16^th of December the Battle of the Bulge started. The Germans broke through our lines killing and capturing thousands of American soldiers. There was a lot of confusion because some of the Germans could speak perfect English. They knew all our slang words, all our ball players and movie stars. They would turn the road signs around so we would be going the wrong way. It was sad to see so many of our soldiers running to the rear and throwing their guns away. One officer surrendered 7,000 of his men because they just came from England and did not have time to set up in a good position so rather than have his men killed, he gave up. Our outfit went out in the country about two miles from the town we were in. There we found a mansion that must have belonged to a Duke or Baron. It was beautiful and we made it our command post. The Germans were shooting at us for two days and never hit the mansion. An officer told the Captain to give him a jeep and a radio operator and he would go see if he could find where the Germans were. The Captain said okay and the officer took off. For three more days the Germans were shelling us and we heard nothing from the officer who left. Each day we changed codes for the day. Our radio operator asked the Officer radioing in for the code for the day…the answer he got was the wrong one. So he told the Captain that a German was on the radio who could speak perfect English and that maybe the officer that had left to go up front must have been killed or captured. Our Captain said “let’s get out of here.” He then came to me and said for my crew to take the tail end of the convoy… we would be the last ones out. On the way back to the town that we were first in, a truck went into a ditch and couldn’t get out. Being the last ones out, I couldn’t just leave him in the ditch so we got out our cable, pulled him out and he took off towards the town. We still had to rewind our cable and when we got to the town there was no one there. We came to a crossroad and went across, but that was a mistake because the Germans saw us and started shooting at us. We made a fast U-turn and went back. to the crossroad. This time we took a left turn and two miles down the road we found our artillery set up and they were shooting at the mansion we just left. Our Captain had left an officer and a radio operator in a patch of woods near the mansion. The officer said ten minutes after we left the Germans were in the mansion. Our artillery shot at the mansion most of the day and when we went back, the mansion was nothing but rubble. There were dead soldiers all around the place and trucks were burning up. The American soldiers started to loot any thing they could find but our Captain had them put everything back.

During the Bulge, one of our half tracks got hit. The men were slightly wounded but the track was in good shape. All they needed was a driver. The motor pool Sergeant remembered that I used to drive one when we were in England. So they came looking for me and I went back to the command post. It was there I saw my Captain for the first time since he busted me and he gave me a choice. I could drive a truck or drive the half track, so I took the track. Now I had to wait for a crew. There was a house and a barn there and I killed three chickens and gave them to the kitchen section to cook. They had made a kitchen up in the barn. An American tank came by and the Germans where shooting at it. They missed and the shell hit the top of the barn. I ran to to see if I could help and I met two soldiers coming out of the barn. They said that two soldiers were killed and some were wounded. Just then, I got a funny feeling like someone was telling me to get into the house. So I grabbed the two soldiers by the shoulders and said “let’s get in the house!” We had just made it to the house when another shell exploded. I hit the wall on one side of the hallway and the other soldier hit the wall opposite me. I could feel my right leg burn and my left hand. I looked at the soldier opposite me and his right leg was gone. I looked at myself and I was covered with blood and chips of bone. It was from the other soldier. I yelled for medics and the soldiers in the back rooms came running out and looked after the soldier whose leg was gone. They looked at me and said to run to the barn because there was a medic there. I made it to the barn and they stripped me and bandaged my leg and then took out the shrapnel that was holding my gloves on my hand. They put me in a jeep and I went to a field hospital. I was there for two days and then I went back to the command post. I found out that the two soldiers that got killed were cleaning the dam chickens that I killed. I never heard what happened to the soldier who lost his leg.

We finally got a crew and a new Corporal so we moved out. Now we were near the German pill boxes. The mess Sergeant had a kitchen set up in a pill box that was 200 yards from where we were. We would take turns to go eat two at a time. The Corporal and one of the men were the last to go. The mess Sergeant told the Corporal that he wanted a soldier to help with KP. The Corporal got back and told the soldier who was with him to go back and pull KP. That meant that he had to walk all the way back when he was just there a few minutes ago. That was the last straw. This soldier picked up a hammer and was going to hit the Corporal on the head. The Corporal saw the motion and he ran looking for the First Sergeant. When the First Sergeant came, the men told him all of the crazy thing this Corporal made them do since he was put in charge. The First Sergeant told the Corporal to get his gear and leave. He turned to me and said for me to take over and he would see that I got my rating back. This made the men happy.

We had a mission to go up front again and one of my men said he didn’t want to go. He said I could either shoot him, or have him court marshaled, but he wasn’t going to go up front. Well I knew this soldier had been in the room where all the men got wounded and he did not get a scratch. This happened twice to him so I told him Co stay behind and we went up without him. The next day, we had to go up again, and this time he said he was coming with us. The day before, he just had a feeling that something might happen to him. During the war, there was snow on the ground and one day as the snow was melting we saw a hand sticking out of the snow. We didn’t know if it was an American or a German, so two of us pulled on the hand and out came a dead German soldier. His face was white and wrinkled. We took out his wallet and there were pictures of him and his family and here he was dead at our feet. That’s when we would feel sorry because it could have been one of us. What happened at that place will always be in my mind. There was a creek near by that we would get our water from. We would always put pills in our drinking water, but this time the pills did not work. The reason they weren’t working was because we did not realize that under the snow that was melting and going into the creek, were dead soldiers, cows and horses and we all got dysentery. I was sick as a dog for eight days.

By this time the Bulge was just about over. We had pushed the Germans back to where they started from. We had 19,000 soldiers killed. I don’t know how many were captured or how many were wounded, but I know that the Germans lost twice as many as we did. Our outfit was sent back into France to clean up some pockets of Germans that we bypassed. We were with an outfit that the Captain told me there were 500 German soldiers in a town that was over the hill from him. He said that I could shoot at any time during the night at any movement we saw on the hill because it would not be any of his men. It was here that I almost got shot by one of my own men. That night, we were all sleeping in a large tent when I had to go to the John. I left the tent and when I tried to get back in, I couldn’t find the opening so I was making a lot of noise. All at once, I heard someone from inside the tent say, “Don’t move or I’ll shoot.” That scared me so much that I think my voice changed. I said, “It’s me. Look at my bed roll and you will see that it’s empty and I am outside.” So they let me in but one of my men still had his gun pointed at the opening of the tent.

During our last move, we ended up with the Japanese-American soldiers from the 442^nd Field Artillery that had come up from Italy. The Captain called me over and gave me a bottle of whiskey. He saw the gun I had and he said he had one just like it but it was all apart. He found it on a dead German who was in the water and he did not want it to get rusty so he took it apart and could not put it together again. We worked on it until we got it firing again and he wanted to buy mine. I told him no, I was taking mine home. We came to a farm and we had to cross a wooden bridge. The old farmer came out and said the bridge was “kaput”. I didn’t believe him so I got my driver to start across. He was nearly across when the bridge gave way. The bumper caught the bank on the other side and the trailer was holding up the rear of the track. My driver got so mad at me he said, “You got us into this mess so now you can get us out” and he left. I got two trucks to pull me back out. It was lime to leave and I could not find my driver so I drove and got in the convoy. Good thing we had to wait because now I saw my driver and he was drunk. I put him in the track and while we were waiting and old man was picking up all the cigarette butts that the soldiers threw away. When he got near my track, my driver got out and hit the hands of the old man and the butts went flying and the old man ran away.

I had a good friend in the artillery that was a forward observer. He and an officer would go up front and direct the artillery when to shoot, how far and left or right until they hit what they were shooting at. He only had to go up front when his name came up, but instead he would take the place of another soldier whose name came up if that soldier would give him his months’ pay. I told him he was nuts to do that, but he said that if he had my cigarette lighter it would bring him good luck. So I would give him my lighter and he would give me his wrist watch. I don’t know what happened that one day, but he went up front without my lighter and he got killed. They told me they couldn’t even find his shoes, so it must have been a direct hit by a shell. So once more, I lost another very good friend.

As we kept going south, we reached Austria and started to see a lot of slave laborers. They were skin and bones. We gave them all the c-rations that we did not like and they were happy to get them. I saw some slaves skinning what I thought was a deer, but it was actually a police dog. One of the slaves could speak English and he told us that they started out with 3,000 slaves and as the weak ones would fall, the German guards would club them to death. They didn’t want to shoot them because they were afraid that the Americans would come to investigate the shooting.

The war ended while we were with the Japanese and we had to find our battalion, The Japanese-American soldiers got on both sides of the road and began making snowballs. As we drove off, they threw all the snowballs at us. I guess it was their way of saying good-bye and good luck. To me they were the best. We found our battalion and our battery in a small town. We had 500 German prisoners in a stockade. Another Corporal and I got the job of going to the farmers and asking them how many prisoners they needed to help on the farm. Each morning we took them to the farms and dropped them off with a guard and picked them up at 4:30PM.

Now the point system came out you had to have 85 points to go home. I had 120 points so I and some others left for England. We got stuck loading low point men to go to the pacific theater. This was in July. The war with Japan ended in August and we were still in England. Finally we were put on trucks and went to Wales where they put us on a ship that took 14 days to cross the Atlantic. We landed at Camp Dix on the 23^rd of October and it took three more days before we got discharged. A group of us that lived in Upstate New York got on a train that would stop at all the towns to let off the ones that lived there. We got on this train at 2:30AM on the 26′ of October and I got to Rochester at 2:30PM. It was a happy day because my family was waiting at the station.

The funny part of this story is that I left home on the 26th of October 1942 and got home on the 26^th of October 1945.

This is my story of an old soldier…. Joseph Tedesco

CONCLUSION

The men on my half track came from different parts of the United States. We would share our last cigarette and share the last bit of food. We showed each other pictures of our loved ones that we left behind. We would write to the wives and girlfriends (and, of course, Mom and Dad) and tell them how brave we were and not to worry about us. We would comfort the ones who lost a family member back home and we would feel sorry for the one who got a Dear John letter from his girlfriend and we would comfort each Other when we were getting bombed or shelled by the enemy. We were together for three years, and I never heard anyone say a bad word about one another…we were like brothers. I was happy when the war ended because now my men could go home to their loved ones but I was sad at the same time because I was thinking of all the soldiers who weren’t going home.

I and millions of soldiers gave the best years of our lives so that our children, grandchildren and those to follow would live in a free world. Thousands of young soldiers gave their lives for the freedom we have today.

We were brothers.. .may they rest in peace and God Bless them all

 

 

 

 

 

I was born October 29, 1919 in Miller Run, Pennsylvania. Miller Run was a small coal mining town in the northern part of Somerset County between Windber and Central City . All of the town was built by the coal company and when all the coal on the lease was mined out, the houses were sold for scrap and lumber and Miller Run does not appear on any maps now. In 1921 Dad moved to another small coal mining town called Landstreet to work in another mine. He was an immigrant from Poland and was unskilled and illiterate and could only find work in the mines. He purchased a parcel of land and built the house where I and the rest of our family were raised . Our family consisted of Mom, Dad, six boys and three girls. During my growing years, I attended school in a two room school house for the first eight grades and Conemaugh Township High School. The nearest school was two miles from home and we walked the distance every day. The high school was six miles from home and we walked and thumbed a ride or rode the transit bus if we had money. During those years I learned to swim across swift rivers and long distance on dams. My favorite sports were baseball, hunting, fishing and all winter sports. 1 played small fry, junior league and Somerset county league baseball with aspirations of some day playing professionally. During the winter when the rivers and lakes were frozen over, I would skate all day. When the snow was deep, I liked to challenge all the big ski slopes in our area. After school, 1 cut mine props and railroad ties and felled timber fix a sawmill. On weekends I roamed the Laurel Mountains searching for ginseng and herbs. When night came I would make camp, stay the night and walk the next day. There was no TV but for a nickel we could board a train and go to Hooversville to see a movie. During the winter I also had a trap line and made some money selling furs. Sears and Roebuck was my best customer for the pelts.

During the early 1930 years, there was one man who molded me and was the influence that made me the person that I became. His name was Joe Barrow. His tutoring began when he walked home to a shanty that he rented back in the boon docks. Mother baked the best tasting homemade bread in an outdoor brick hearth, and when Joe walked by on the way from working in a coal mine he got one whiff of the baking bread and asked Mom if she would sell him some. She had no price on any other cooking, so she gave him a big loaf that just came out of the oven. Joe was grateful and on his way home the next day he dropped off a large sack full of coal. Mother always had a dinner dish full of good things to eat when he came by our house. We became friendly and began spending much time at Joe’s and even slept in his shack if we stayed late. He taught me how to box, wrestle, play baseball, hunt wild game, trap for furs and shoot a 22 caliber rifle. Above all, he always stressed honesty. He bought all the 22 ammunition and had me practice shooting with an open sight. I still remember how he said, “aim, breathe, hold steady on target and squeeze”. Joe was a big man. He stood about 6*3″ and weighed about 225 pounds. While we boxed he would get on his knees and urge me to hit him but I never could. We spent many hours on how to parry a punch. Dad was a good butcher and smoked hams and made Polish Kelbassi He always had a package of his fares for Joe and they knew we were safe if we were with him. Joe Barrow was a black man, originally from Harlan, Kentucky, with light brown skin, broad shoulders and always had a friendly smile. One day, Joe disappeared without a word and I never saw him again. In later years I always wondered if he was related to that famous world champion, the brown bomber.

Those early years also occurred during the great depression and to supplement the small government relief handouts , we had to hunt for wild game for meat. Money was scarce and bullets were hard to come by , so, when Dad gave us a few cartridges, we had to bring home game for every bullet he gave us. I was blessed with good eye sight and steady nerves and seldom missed whatever I shot at.

During my junior and senior year vacation high school, I worked on a farm in upstate New York near Oswego. It was a job farming and I worked from before dawn until after dark I learned to plow with horses and do heavy work with a caterpillar. I could make horseshoes in a blacksmith shop and shoe horses and fix all the farm equipment. The pay was supposed to be a dollar a day and board but when h was time to go back to school the fanner had no money and I never did get paid for a summer of hard work.

After I graduated from high school, my brother, Stanley, got a job for me in the coal mine where he worked. I mined and shoveled coal into rail cars and the rate was 47 cents a ton. It was dangerous work because the mine was filled with methane gas and the slate roof was always a threat to fall and injure or kill a worker. When I was 21 years old, I registered for the military draft and shortly after we were attacked by Japan in what we win always remember as The day that will live in infamy”. It brought me into World War II.  When I was called to duty, I probably was one of the better prepared men, mentally and physically, to endure the rigors of training and adjusting to army life.

For basic training, I was sent to Camp Wheeler, Georgia and adjusted to military life quickly. I had no problems on long marches, and progressed ahead of recruits who came from the cities. We were rushed through basic training in 13 weeks and then transferred to fin the peacetime rosters of the First Infantry Division stationed in Camp Blanding, Florida. I was assigned to Company D, 26th Regiment. We went through more swamp training which tod us to believe that we would do jungle fighting against the Japs. We convoyed to Indiantown Gap in Pennsylvania, prepared for overseas shipment and then moved to the Brooklyn Naval Base. We boarded the HMS Queen Mary and sailed to Gourock, Scotland in the British Isles. We moved to Tidworth Barracks in Southern England and began more intensive training.

German bombers came over every day and there was still a threat of a Kraut invasion. We ran obstacle courses, marched long distances, crawled under barbed wire white machine guns shot over us with live ammunition. We sharpened our skills on the rifle range and in the grenade pits. We had night and day marches. One hike took us to Stonehenge a prehistoric worship she. The round trip was 22 miles with full field equipment. I got a pass to London and visited The Tower of London, went to Downing Street, crossed the London Bridge and watched the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. Much of London was destroyed by bombs but it seemed a miracle that the great places of interest still stood. We hired a taxi to show us around the city and the driver was our guide. We had lunch at a restaurant where an English couple invited us to have dinner with them. They paid for our meal because we came to help England.

When more of our troops arrived in England, we traveled back up to Scotland for invasion practice. We lived hi Quonset huts on the shore of Loch Ness It rained every day and the ground became a soupy mud field. We practiced shore landing every day and slogged up steep hills The British Eighth Army was being hammered by the Jerries in Egypt and the Russians were pushed back in Russia. They put pressure on us to hurry and come to their aid.

On my 22nd birthday, we began packing everything and made ready to move out. We assembled and joined a convoy and drove to Gourock, a port of embarkation and boarded the HMS Llangibby Casde, a troop carrying shi of the British Navy. On November 2, 1942 we sailed out of Gourock and joined a large convoy of Navy steps and moved out into the North Atlantic. Rumor had us going to Norway because the shop was supposed to have skis and winter equipment in the hold The convoy zigzagged every few minutes to confuse any U Boats that may have been tracking us and appeared to be moving west in the choppy North Atlantic. We did not know where we were going, because if a ship was sunk by a German Wolf Pack , survivors could tell them our destination.

The Atlantic was windy and very cold. Most of the GI’s were sea sick but rt did not affect me. For the first time I volunteered for submarine watch. 1 stood on guard in a gun turret with eyes peeled looking for submarine signs and periscope wake. Our ship sailed in the middle of the convoy and 1 did not see anything; however, destroyers on the perimeter often dropped depth charges. There was talk of oil stick but I did not see any. The duty was wet and cold but the fresh air and the dipping and swaying of the ship was less nauseating. On the hour, the Sergeant of the Guard came around with good hot chocolate and buttered French bread to expel the chill. I lived on that the rest of the voyage while most of the troops lay sea sick in their berths on the ship. They were served mutton, vegetables and British fare which helped to make them sick. Each sunset told us that we were going to invade western France because the weather became warmer and the sun came up in the east and set in the west while we were sailing south. On November 6,1942 we sailed east and that night we could see lights on our left from the Rock of Gibraltar and lights on our right from Morocco. They announced over the ships speaker that we were in the Strait of Gibraltar and now we assumed that we would go into Southern France. We kept sailing east undetected and during the evening on November 8th, 1942 they passed out booklets on Algeria in North Africa. We finally knew where we were going to make our first assault. Platoon leaders came and told us that we would go ashore near Oran and engage mostly Vichy French. We needed a base in North Africa to attack from the south and support me British Eighth Army in Egypt by putting pressure on the German Afrika Korps and closing off then-supply line. My battalion’s mission was to go ashore at Les Andalouses and capture Bou Sfer and take a fort, Djebel Murdjado, and its big shore guns that overlooked the deep water port of Oran and the approaches of the Mediterranean Sea. They named this action ‘TORCH’ and told us there we would achieve this victory regardless of cost because it would be a major morale builder toward our hopes to defeat the Axis powers and buoy our beginning crusade to bring peace to the world.

We checked all our equipment and after final instructions we had church service on deck. As a Catholic, I attended confession, mass and received last rites because we could be killed during the battle. We also got small prayer books to carry and refer to when we needed spiritual help. About 2 a.m. on November 8,1942 we scrambled down nets into landing craft and went on shore unopposed. We rammed into a sand bar but the water was shallow and we walked to land. Our navy guns dueled the French guns on the mountain and we moved up the mountain under cover. Half way up the hill we encountered incoming machine gun fire and bullets ricocheted off rocks and sheared limbs and twigs from brush all around me. 1 knew the French were trying to shoot me so I took shelter under a ledge of the mountain. It was like being frozen in time until a man no bigger than I came strutting up and yelled, “the bastards can’t hit the side of a barn, come on”. He walked standing straight and kept saying, “follow me”. I got up and tailed him and everybody followed. Someone said, “Hell, that’s Teddy Roosevelt, our Regimental Commander”. Teddy walked and slid back on that mountain but never ducked when shells whistled by. He was like his dad when he charged up San Juan Hill some 44 years earlier.

The day was hot but the night was cold. We only carried a poncho and before morning ice crystals formed on the ground. I buddied up with Bill Sanderiin. We snuggled up like peas in a pod and rotated trying to keep warm and were glad when rooming came. Near the summit, I crawled up a ditch that turned out to be the sewer that carried the waste out of the compound. It was lined with human feces, toilet paper and garbage. I had to stay in it because I would be exposed, observed and shot at. I came upon one of our soldiers who impeded my progress. I told him to move his ass forward so I could go. When he did not respond, I tried to crawl over him and found him dead. A crater in front of him was made by a friendly mortar or an enemy shell. It was my first baptismal of under fire and I soon became acclimated to aD the sounds and experiences of war. As we climbed the mountain we were constantly harassed by small arms and mortar blasts. When we reached the fort we hammered the compound and windows until it surrendered. We did not find any Germans. The battle lasted three days and we suffered 90 killed and about 300 wounded. We were told that the 34th Infantry Division went into Morocco unopposed and the 9th Infantry Division took the capital city of Algiers with only token resistance. Our victories began the downfall of Axis domination m North Africa- General Montgomery and his British Army got resupplied and began chasing Rommel’s Afrika Korps out of Egypt and back toward us. We began desert type training and helped the French establish a friendly government. November was the rainy season with monsoon type weather in North Africa. We used our pup tents for shelter and the water soaked ground would not support tent pegs so most of the time we slept under collapsed tents, it appeared that we would be washed back into the sea. There was the threat that the Germans would counterattack us and relieve the pressure we put on General Rommel. We patrolled the coast and interior roads looking for paratroopers. The French natives were not friendly and were uncooperative because they felt we would be defeated by the Germans and they feared reprisals. The Arabs were friendly and came around with fruit and bread and bartered for clothes and tobacco. For a pack of cigarettes they would trade a large jug of vino or calvados- Sometimes they would bring cognac, a French brandy and trade for a box of K ration with chocolate. When Kraut airplanes flew over, we always opened up and fired small caliber weapons at them hoping to wound a pilot and bring down the aircraft. We never shot one down but h was fun shooting at them.

To help the French establish a new government, we paraded the whole 1st Division down the main street of Oran. It was a miserable day because we had to wear our gas impregnated uniforms and the temperature was in the high 90’s. Although there were many natives watching us, they still did not seem very friendly.

On my first patrol, we had about 30 miles of coastal road to cover. We reached the end of our assignment and turned around and were accosted by a Jerry ME 109 Messerschmitt. He came at us from right flank and missed us with ibs first burst. I was on the machine gun and squeezed off a burst of my own as he flew past us. Tracers showed that I held behind him and he disappeared quickly. Our driver drove fast and when we came to a sharp turn he flip-rolled us over an embankment. The machine gun mount was me only thing that kept us from getting crushed. I had scrapes all over me and my hip felt like it was broken. The driver and the radio man were unhurt.

The Kraut pilot made another pass and could not see us. The jeep lay on its side and we righted it before the oil and water drained out. We hooked the winch on an olive tree above the road and winched ourselves back to the road. I could walk and when we got back to camp, I was put on tight duty after the medic checked me for broken bones. I had time for writing letters and helped a buddy in the motor pool. Our equipment was in good shape and we were put on notice to move out. The Germans were in retreat and we were ordered to convoy to Tunisia. As we moved east, we were attacked several times by the German Air Force. They came strafing and we answered with everything that could shoot.

On Thanksgiving Day 1942, we were enroute to Tunisia from Oran. The day before we began to form our convoy, our cooks were preparing a Thanksgiving dinner with all the fixings, but an order came to move out to the coastal road where we would join an artillery battalion and proceed to Tunisia. The cooks packed everything and we motored eastward. They tried to keep the turkey dinner warm but we could not stop because the Jerry airforce kept strafing and when night came we kept on going under cover of darkness. We traveled into the night until we could stop in a safe place.

They brought out our delayed dinner and everybody gorged themselves. Our bivouac was in a large grape field where we could camouflage our vehicles. About an hour later men were digging slit trenches; the entire company became sick because food was stored in the aluminum pans too long resulting in aluminum and ptomaine poisoning. I have never seen so many bare butts at one time because everybody dropped their britches where there was elbow room. There was no clear space to walk and the toilet paper fluttered in the coastal breeze on the grape vines. When we ran out of paper, we had to use our tee shirts and shorts.

I was never so sick in my life and pledged that I would never eat turkey again. Captain Cappello had to have a personal sot trench with a canvas fly around rt- Everyone wished that he would fall in it face first because he delayed our dinner back at Oran and made sick guys build his outhouse when they were sicker than he was.

We arrived in Tunisia in mid December. The campaign in Africa was commanded by the British. Our 1st Infantry Division was chopped up into small battalion units and scattered all over Tunisia. Tunisia is a semi-desert country divided by a mountain range between the coastal plain and the interior desert and both were connected by a series of passes. Tunis was the closest point to Italy; the supply one and escape route that the Krauts had to control. Tunisia is an underdeveloped country bounded in the north by the Mediterranean Sea, on the east by the sea of Sousse, in the south by Libya, in the southwest by the Sahara Desert and the west by Algeria. It lies half way between Gibraltar and the Suez Canal and is vital for the control of the Mediterranean shipping lane. The population is mostly Muslim with about four million people. The mean annual temperature is between 40 degrees at night and around 95 degrees during the daytime. The northern ports of Bizerte, Carthage, Cape Bon and the capital Tunis were vital to the Germans if they planned to escape back to Europe. Tunisia was a dry semi-desert country with no rivers and water could only be found in places below sea level and in wells dug deep into the ground.

Much of the water was polluted and unfit for drinking. Somebody found a well and filled a five gallon jerry water can and added enough atabrine tablets to purify it. I filled my canteen and drank my fill while eating ration biscuits. The next morning, I made ready for a canteen cup full of water for coffee The water looked murky and when I looked closer my cup of water was full of maggots. It made me sick but I had nothing in my stomach to regurgitate.

In North Africa, Captain Cappello was our company commander and nobody liked him. He was one of those hot shot commanders who came out of OCS and always made sure he had his CP far behind the lines. He was never near when you needed him and relied on platoon leaders. We always marched full field but he only carried a pistol and had his dog-robber helper do all the work. We lost him near Hill 533. He had his hole dug at the base of the hill where artillery could not reach him, but some of our jokers rolled rocks down the hill over him and injuired his knee and put him out of action with a purple heart medal. I never saw him again.

While the Germans were retreating in Libya, it was imperative that we contain them within the coastal plain. If they could escape into the Algerian Desert, the war could last a long time in Africa. My 1st Division and the 1st Armored Division were broken up and assigned to seal the passes in southern Tunisia. General Alexander assigned my battalion with about 800 men to defend Kasserine Pass in the southern most part of Tunisia where we expected the Germans to make their attempt to break out of the coastal plain. This became the war’s biggest bhuxter because when the attack finally canoe, we had no anti-tank equipment, no artillery, and no explosives to stop the Panzers.

Kasserine Pass in the southern part of Tunisia was a valley about a mile wide. It had two mountain ranges on each side about a thousand feet high. The mountains converged to form a narrow pass halfway through like the stem of an hour glass. For centuries, during heavy rains water cascaded down the mountains forming deep gorges in the valley and where they converged in the narrow pass, they formed a deep river bed about 35 feet deep and 40 feet wide. This river channel had a stone arch bridge and a narrow gauge railroad trestle that should have been destroyed and dropped into the river bed. B Company was placed on the left Sank, C Company was strung out near the bridges and A Company was positioned on the right flank and D Company was divided to support the rifle companies. When I worked in the coal mine 1 had a lot of experience in handling explosives. With a few sticks of dynamite, I could have dropped the bridges into the gorge and the German tanks would have been stopped. One battery of artillery would have been able to stop the Kraut infantry and tanks but we had nothing. I was a bazooka man and had my foxhole dug in front of the bridge near the deep river bed.

Around noon, a Jerry plane flew up the valley and we knew the Krauts would be coming soon. A short time passed and we began to get rapid shooting down on us from the ridge on our left flank. At first 1 thought B Company was shooting at us, but when we got ripping machine gun fire different than ours, I knew that we were flanked and like sitting ducks on a pond. The German infantry surprised B Company and chased them off the hill and exposed us to plunging fire. I could see Germans running along the hill and tried shooting at them. A Kraut tank came up to the bridge and stopped, traversing a gun over my position while a German got out to inspect the span. I took good aim at the tank with the bazooka and squeezed the trigger but it would not launch the missile. I never had an occasion to test fire it and the battery must have been dead. Our machine guns and mortars were placed to shoot down the valley and confusion overcame rationality when mortar base plates had to be turned to shoot at the flanking hill, and the machine guns had to be removed from tripods for hand-held shooting at die Krauts on the hffl. Rifle shots began to diminish to the rear and I knew that we were surrounded and our troops deserted us. The tanks crossed the bridge and went up the road after our retreating troops. I heard shooting around me and knew that some of C Company stood fast and were also pinned down. Some of the tanks stayed and shot at foxholes and even ground their treads over the accessible foxholes. I was near the river gorge and they could not get to me without falling into the river bed. We kept the mop-up Krauts away from us. I was getting tow on ammunition and h looked as though I would be taken prisoner. 1 cleaned my rifle barrel so I could tell the captors that 1 never shot at any of them. The February evening was approaching and I could not wait for dark to set in and give us cover.

We had no airplanes in Tunisia; therefore, we knew that no one was aware of our plight. We would not surrender as long as we could shoot because we did not know how the Krauts would treat us. The heat was a burning pressure on that part of the desert rolling over my foxhole through the dry windless river bed and rendered the dry dusty sand and landscape an unseen turbulence. I was low on water and cartridges and I was glad when darkness enveloped the valley. Shortly after dark, we assembled around Sergeant Gray from C Company and planned a route to escape the encirclement. They had belts of machine-gun cartridges and divided them among us who were short of ammo. We would form a skirmish line and move out shooting until we crossed the road and tracks. We reached the gullies where the German equipment could not follow. We began our thrust and reached the ditches amid Kraut crossing fire. We had casualties but did not know how many started the assault. I estimated our strength at around 50 men. Sergeant Gray set out flankers and rear guards to keep the following Krauts away from us. We pushed Jerries in from of us and shots were fired. It was very dark and traveling was slow. We could hear the Kraut trucks out on the road and   Germans shouting . Every time I saw a Kraut skylined I would take a snap shot    not knowing if I hit anyone, but we kept them off our backs. We could not hear any kind of shooting from up the valley -and knew that we were far behind the front of the German convoy.. We traveled all night and when morning came, we could stilll see the German convoy -moving at a snails pace up the road. We pulled our flankers in and divided our group into two sections. One part would stand guard while the other group leapfrogged ahead enabling us to move faster and protect ourselves. The day dragged slowly and. when dark came we used the first nights tactics and proceeded without trouble. The night was cold and we were without food.

About, midnight, we encountered some Krauts and I became involved in a fire fight. Nobody appeared to be .hit and the fight ended. The noise out on the road ceased and we wondered if the Jerries were going to come at full force. We increased our guard and waited for them to come at us. Everyone was dead tired and we took time to get a little rest. I stayed awake while some men dozed off The Krauts knew where we were and began, saturating the hills with mortar blasts, Some bursts came close but not on us. We did not shoot back because we did not want them to locate our position- The night sounds were loud and when loosened rocks came tumbling down it appeared that the Jerries were close to us. Our nerves got jumpy but the Sergeant cautioned us against making any noise. Near morning we came upon a group of soldiers who we thought were remnants of our battalion. We could see them skylined in the dark but could not identity them. One good English speaking voice urged us to join them. The gully was steep and he told us to extend our rifles for a lift out. While they lifted one man out someone asked if they were part of B Company and when they answered “Ya'” the man who was lifted out yelled ‘”Krauts” and rolled back into the ditch. While that was going on, I was, extending my rifle and when I heard the warning, I pulled the trigger and knocked the Kraut over the brink of the gully- I did not want to be killed on that hill because I probably would never be found- I could feel scorpions crawling through my skull and snakes and bugs creeping through my skeleton. ‘When daylight came we could see the German convoy on our right flank. We slowed them down with sniper fire. The end of the battle of Kasserine Pass came when the Germans began to run out of fuel. The big klunkers sniffed about four gallons of fuel per mile and after forty miles they were into their reserves as evidenced by the empty drums along the road.

Our 18th Regiment came down from Tebessa and a newly arrived battalion of 155mm Long Tom artillery from the 9th Division engaged the Panzers while it was still in the pass. The Panzer Division did not have enough fuel to maneuver in battle and was forced to retreat back down the valley. They planned to capture a supply base and vehicles with fuel but they only encountered desolation because the British gave us nothing.. When the last Kraut tank limped in retreat, we moved to the road and met some of our tanks chasing the Germans. Our tanks gave us a ride and we followed the Krauts and made sure they reached Gabes on the coast and turned north. We returned to our companies.

Looking back on Kasserine Pass, I would have to say that we got the crap hacked out of us. If there was a lesson to be learned, it would ‘be — never place American troops under the command of foreign commanders. As a commander General Alexander was about as inept as General Montgomery. ‘The Germans .destroyed Combat Command A of the 1st Armored in. Ousseltia, a wide open plain where the Krauts hid their tanks with long range 88’s behind a hill and had a big tactical advantage instead of engaging the Krauts on our own ground. We were no match for the Germans and were outnumbered about one thousand to one in both tanks and men.

We returned to D Company and got new equipment and replacements that we lost and motored north to El Guettar Pass and joined the rest of our 26th Regiment and supporting units. The 1st Ranger Battalion and our 1st Combat Engineers came to support us. Our division sent our 5th, 7th and 33rd Artillery Battalions to back us up against a larger enemy task force. El Guettar is a small village bordering an oasis at the mouth of the Pass. The oasis had fresh sweet water with groves of date trees and olive trees around the edges. Irrigation ditches carried water to nourish vegetables and fruit trees. We chose a narrow gap in the pass to make our stand. The road was mined and guns were zeroed in for best effect.

Our Field Artillery Battalions placed their pieces around the oasis and camouflaged them to blend in with the desert. They were zeroed on the road in front of the mine field and were ready when the Germans and Italians arrived. We also had the support of two companies of the 601st Tank Destroyer Battalion.

When Reminds next thrust came up the narrow road, it was met by a massive artillery barrage and destroyed the lead tanks blocking the road for those who followed. Rommel then sent a large force of Italians against us but they were driven back with great tosses. He then sent his own German troops to scale the mountain on each side of die pass, where they were met by our famous Rangers and were stacked up dead and in defeat. The German Air Force came with a flight of Stuka bombers and dropped large bombs on the high ground.

Another flight of mixed planes came looking for our artillery and dropped large canister bombs into the oasis and around the village. They did not find the artillery but they destroyed the village and defoliated all the trees and vegetable gardens before we returned after we defeated the Germans. Both sides of the pass were wind-swept rock and no place to dig a foxhole. We used loose rock to make revetments for protection. Just at dusk that day, another flight of German bombers came and dropped canister bombs on our positions. A canister is a large cluster of bombs with butterfly fins attached to make the grenade-size bombs spread over a wide area and explode on contact. One cluster of bombs was equal in noise to that of a grand finale of a large fireworks display. A canister or cluster of bomb consisted of a large container filled with grenade-size bombs and when released by the plane, a large tail fin would unscrew and open the canister so the small bombs separated and fell to earth and saturated a wide area. One cluster opened somewhere above me and when they exploded, rocks came cascading down and around me from the high ground. 1 got wounded by bomb fragments when one butterfly bomb exploded somewhere above me.

During the night another flight came over and dropped large bombs in the pass and fit up the sky with parachute flares. The whole valley was lit up like a night at a football game. A bomb on the ridge above me dislodged a boulder that came down and bounced off my revetment and carried my backpack down into the pass. I always remembered that narrow escape and the toss of my pack. That morning I received a letter from a girl in the states. She wrote and said “You do not know me but I would like to be your pen pal. She also enclosed a colored picture of herself One look and I saw how pretty she was. 1 did not have time to answer and when my backpack disappeared into the pass I thought I lost her address. The next morning one of our guys returned it and I was glad to get it back. Had I tost that letter, 1 would have lost a pen pal and also the girl I would later marry. We corresponded throughout the rest of the war and when I returned after the war, we dated, fell in love and married.

The British Eighth Army came up from the Mareth line in southern Tunisia and the Germans and Italians withdrew and moved north along the coast road. We kept pace up the western side of the mountain range and seated passes at Gafsa, Tebessa and Kairoun and joined other units of the 1st Infantry. We finally joined with all the units and became a complete combat team for the first time in Tunisia. The 9th Infantry arrived from Algiers and the 34th Infantry came from Morocco. The 1st Armored Division was back to full strength and joined us for the kill We also had a full battalion of the 601st Tank Destroyers, and the 1st Ranger Battalion Our Air Force was now operational and the newly arrived British Air Force made us strong enough to squeeze Rommel’s Afrika Korps into the narrow plinm around Befa, Mateur and Bizerte. The last major infantry battle occurred around Hills 609 and 523. The 34th Division captured Hill 609 and my battalion went at Hill 523 with fixed bayonets at night. 1 did not fix my bayonet because I was loaded with boxes of machine gun ammunition belts- We drove the Krauts off Hill 523 and our 18th Regiment passed through us and took a town called Tebourba and opened up the Tine Valley for the 1st Armored Division Tanks to roll down the plain of Beja and on to Bizerte and the final defeat of the Afrika Korps It was a great victory fix us in many ways. It put pressure on the Axis Armies and helped to end the three year war in North Africa.

We saved the English butts and captured over 250,000 Krauts and Italians and all the war equipment they had in Africa. There were many thousands of the enemy drowned out in the sea as they tried to escape by boat. The six months after the invasion of Oran proved to be a valuable training ground and morale builder. We knew that we could beat the best the Germans could send against us. In Southern Tunisia the British called us “sheep going to be slaughtered”, but when it was over, they acknowledged that the United States was again history’s finest fighting army. They had to reverse themselves because we saved their butts in Egypt and Libya.

We thought we were in for a good rest, but when we moved back to Oran, Algeria, we began more invasion training. We knew that it would not be long before we would invade Europe. The Arabs and French were more friendly and they always came to the edge of our camp with fresh French bread, vino and fruits. I drank red wine until I went to a winery and saw dirty Arabs feet stomping grapes and seeing the juice flowing through a trough into a dirty vat in the ground. I had plenty time to write to my pen pal and home. We got new equipment and trained hard. Some of our men got into trouble with the MPs in Oran when they accosted fear echelon troops with new uniforms with medal ribbons whereas we had none. I received no mail from home for about a month until I got a letter from my sister. She wrote that Mom and Dad got a letter from the Army saying that I was killed in Africa and they stopped writing. They got letters written long after 1 was supposed to have been killed. They knew there was a government mistake. When they inquired about it, they were told that a John Lebda was killed but he was from Clearfield County. He was a distant cousin. Mother almost died from grief and was sick for a long time after. I wrote and lied that I was far away from fighting and that I was not near the actual combat zone. I told the Medics that I would shoot them if they ever reported me being injured in combat. It also meant that I would never get a Purple Heart Medal.

The smell of gun powder was still in the air when we motored back to Arzue in Algeria near Oran. We trained hard and one of our exercises was a long march to the sea. After a ten mile hike to a sandy beach, we were allowed to go swimming. We were warned about stepping on starfish and made aware that the sea was infested with great white sharks and not go too far out. The waves were lapping the shore with large breakers. I stripped naked and swam out beyond a large swell and when I got on a large rolling breaker, I floated shoreward like a surfer on a board and got a thrilling ride. I felt so elated, 1 went out farther to get on a larger breaker and was caught in a stiff current and began drifting out to sea. I was a good swimmer but could not overcome the strong pull away from shore. The outgoing tide created a strong backwash and undertow and I could not swim against it At first I panicked when the shore fine began to disappear. I realized my plight and swam with the current praying that I would come upon a ship before the sharks found me. I drifted for hours and cramps began to hinder my kick and my arms felt like lead. I was aware that I might drown before 1 could get help. The salt sea water was buoyant but my strength was fading rapidly. I prayed over and over and recited some lines from the 23rd Psalm and began to black out. I tried to float on my back but the water pulled at me like a magnet. I did not warn to be live shark food and something kept me thrashing and kicking when I had no strength. I turned to swim more and saw a strip of land projecting out into the Mediterranean. I became imbued with some kind of Herculean strength and swam toward that distant point. When 1 reached the turbulent waters on the rocky shore, I went in feet first to avoid sharp rocks and a big wave washed me over a boulder into calm water. I was about five miles west of our bivouac; the sea was like a grant whirlpool and took me in a large circle. I ran down the beach and reached the troop just as it was ready to return to our encampment at Arzue. I have always wondered what angel of the old sea was my propeller and which Divine Power would not let me give up. We lost some jeeps and drivers in Tunisia, and when we got new jeeps we also needed new drivers. I had a stateside drivers license since I was sixteen years old. I tested on a jeep and two-and-a-half ton truck and passed. I was a pretty good auto mechanic and that made me eligible to drive a military vehicle. German artillery always concentrated on machine gun nests and I was glad to get the new assignment; however, 1 was also aware of the danger of mines and strafing by enemy airplanes. While the company trained in amphibious landings, I was taught vehicle maintenance and care of equipment. For me it meant getting my vehicle ready for an amphibious landing and going through deep water. Ignition parts had to be waterproofed, exhausts had to be elevated above the water line and engine, water, oil and ignition parts had to be protected against water seepage and stalling when the vehicle was immersed in deep water.

We were getting ready for the next invasion of Europe and this phase was named “HUSKY” Husky was the code name for the invasion of Sicily. Supervision was intense and all indications pointed to a complex operation and an encounter against greater odds than ever before. The Allied Command was under the leadership of a British General Alexander, the same General we had in North Africa. His command was divided into two landing forces, one under General Patton and the other under General Montgomery. Montgomery would lead the British Eighth Army and invade the east coast of Sicily while Patton would command the United States Army and go ashore at Gela in the south. General Bradley would lead my 1st Infantry reinforced by the 45th Infantry on our right. Our 82nd Airborne Division would drop near Comiso, hold roads and disrupt traffic The U.S. 1st Ranger Battalion with Colonel Darby would go in and secure the Gela harbor and port facilities

On July 8,1943, we boarded a big LST landing boat and joined a large convoy of ships for the invasion of Sicily.  On July 10th we dropped anchor and our assaulting troops went ashore in Sicily to secure a bridgehead so we could move in with artillery, tanks and anti-tank guns. I stayed on board and watched a dazzling fight show of tracers and explosions. We hit the beach at the same time that the reconstituted Hermann Goering Panzer Division was holding maneuvers to defend the area. They came blasting at us before we could get any of our heavy equipment ashore. For five hours rt was a battle between strong German elements and our hand carried weapons and help from two destroyers that moved in dose to the shore. It was the first time the Navy fought enemy ground units and came out as winners. The Panzers withdrew, we were almost driven back into the sea. Before the Panzers could attack again, we unloaded our tanks and artillery. The howitzers dug in and when the Germans counterattacked again, our artillery fired at the tanks point blank and drove them back. The direct fire enabled us to hold our beachhead General Patton’s Corps swung left and went toward Palermo on the west coast with the 1st Armored and the 45th Infantry Divisions. My 1st Infantry, reinforced, went straight up the middle of the island fighting short battles and reached Barrafranca where the Germans had their second line of defense. The British Eighth Army went up the east coast toward Mt. Etna. Montgomery held his forces back and moved forward only when the Krauts withdrew because we threatened their rear. The rocky hills above Barrafranca were ideal for defense and from prepared bunkers the German artillery observers directed volley after volley down into a valley where our troops were hung up.

Our motor pool had to stay close to the company. We drove to a farm house during the night and dispersed in an olive and almond grove, it was on the forward slope of a lull that looked down into a valley with rows of grape arbors. We were safe as long as we did not move around. My jeep was parked under a large olive tree and hidden from Kraut airplanes that flew over in a never ending stream. I dug a slit trench that I could sleep in. Shortly after noon that day an artillery observation jeep came flying in a doud of dust and screeched to a stop in front of the house. The dust had not settled when the Germans opened up with artillery. When the first shell exploded in the grape field, I sensed that they would triangulate on our area before they fired for effect. I rushed over to the large stone bouse and lay against the foundation away from the incoming shelling. They found the range and blasted the grove until it was defoliated. We lost a company mail clerk and when I returned for my gear 1 found another driver dead in my foxhole killed by an artillery shell that made a direct hit on my slit trench.

At one point near Gangi, the terrain was so steep and rocky that vehicles were useless. The army brought in truck loads of mules and burros to backpack ammunition and food to our troops. I led one of the stubborn mules and another driver had to prod him from the rear to go up narrow goat trails on the mountain. When we reached Nicosia the land leveled off and the volcanic ash-covered roads were more accessible for vehicular traffic We pushed Krauts back to Troina at the foot of Mt, Etna. The Germans had good observation points on the volcano and directed mass concentrations of artillery explosives on our positions and since we were so dose to mainland Italy the Jerry Air Force kept pounding our positions. The battle for Troina was by far the worst encounter we ever had with the Germans and we suffered great casualties both killed and wounded. Our C Company was almost wiped out. General Patton arrived from Palermo along the north coast and the campaign began to wind down. In Sicily we had 267 killed in action, 1184 wounded and lost 337 as missing in action in our 1st Infantry Division alone. The division took 5,935 prisoners and did not count the dead Krauts left in the mountains. While we were holding and securing our victory, the German Air Force still flew across the strait and bombed almost everything that moved.

Water was in short supply around Troina but there were good wells dose to Nicosia. Each company was responsible for their water needs. Because of the German Air Force, we hauled most of our water at night. Toward the middle of August I made a water run at night and when I was returning with a trailer full of five gallon Jerry cans. I had to travel a road with a thick layer of white volcanic ash. There was a bright moon; I did not use lights. I was speeding along when a flight of Kraut night bombers spotted a cloud of white dust. They probably figured it was a big convoy moving along and began dropping bombs all around me. They had their planes and bombs rigged with a siren-tike device and as the bomb dropped it gave off a weird sound that was loud enough to scare the crap out of anyone.

When they flew away, I wondered if they returned to their base and reported that they destroyed a big convoy. All they did was make my dust cloud a lot bigger and scare the hell out of me. When the flares drifted down from above, I was sure they could see the whites of my eyes. When the Germans extracted most of their troops and equipment across the narrow straits of Messina, the 38 day battle for Sicily ended on August 16,1943.

A few days later our whole division assembled in a large field with a stage constructed in the middle. My company was positioned dose to the platform and I was surprised when General Patton climbed the steps and was introduced.

The place was wired with speakers around hs perimeter. I do not remember much of his speech but it was about his slapping a soldier who was in the hospital with combat fatigue. He praised us for what we did in Africa and Sicily and said that it took one weak man to get many good men kitted. I felt sony for him when it sounded as though he would choke on his words. We called him Blood and Guts – our blood and his guts – even though we knew that quick action saved many fives.

We were allowed to write home and say we were in Sicily. All our letters were censored and since we could not write much they were mostly “Hello? 1 am ok and in good health”. We boarded ships on October 23rd and sailed west past Gibraltar and rumor had us going home for a rest because we did not renew equipment and made no preparations for another invasion. After zigzagging north in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, we arrived back in England. In one year since we left England h looked like another country. In order to support the heavy equipment we brought from the states, some port facilities had to be rebuilt and narrow roads and bridges had to be reconstructed. The massive job was undertaken by the United States Corps of Engineers.

Stone arch bridges had to be replaced with iron spans and narrow roads had to be built out of thick concrete to carry the heavy traffic and large tanks we brought over to England. Air bases had to be enlarged to handle the heavy bombers I was amazed at what was accomplished in the one year since we took off and sailed to North Africa. We arrived at an encampment south of BIandford in County Dorset which was similar to the terrain on the continent of Europe and began intensive training and invasion maneuvers. Reconnaissance air photos showed us an intensive buildup of the Atlantic Wall on the channel. We could see huge pill boxes reinforced with eight to ten feet of concrete. There were signs of deep trenches and a network of tunnels connecting each bunker. Near each bunker there were dirt revetments with concrete pads to house anti-aircraft guns that could be lowered to shoot down on the beach or out into the channel at approaching craft. Machine gun pillboxes were closely built into the hillside with small port holes and pedestals to fire down on the beach with plunging and crossing fire. On Omaha Beach, the steep hill rose about two hundred feet and it was laced with trenches and barbed wire entanglements surrounded with anti-personal mines and booby traps. All vegetation was cleared for open field shooting. There was a two foot drop-off at the water line but just about all of it was exposed to the gunners on the ridge. It was a killing field for the Krauts. Inside the water line, the Germans constructed obstacles in the water to prevent landing crafts from reaching the beach. Between each set of obstacles and sand bars there were three trenches. The first trench was about six feet deep, the second trench about sixty feet into the channel. It was about eleven feet deep at high tide and beyond that the sand bars fell off like a shelf. The interior beyond the top of the ridge consisted of many hedgerows with tank and artillery emplacements. Hedgerows surrounded small one and two acre fields. In England we worked on how to assault pill boxes. We practiced everything necessary to establish a bridgehead so that a massive build up of men and equipment could be brought ashore before the Germans could counterattack and drive us back into the ocean.

We were also aware that my 1st Infantry would make the initial assault on Omaha. We had already made two invasions in Africa and Sicily so we had the most experience. We practiced landings at Swanage, a small village on the English Channel. The Germans had three years to build the fortifications and we would have only a few hours to exploit their massive buildup. Hitler and his hand-picked Field Marshal Rommel were confident that an invasion here was impossible and that they could push us back into the ocean if we tried to invade those prepared defenses. Because of our massive Air Force bund up, Nazi air raids were much less frequent than in 1942. V-2 ballistic missiles and buzz bombs were prevalent and the scream of sirens took the place of air raids.

The southern coast was jammed with all kinds of equipment that would be needed to breach the Atlantic Wall on the continent The Germans feared our artillery. Captives said that our artillery sounded like rapid-firing machine gun artillery. We were also issued a small carbine rifle fix more fire power with the emphasis on wounding the enemy rather than killing them because it was more effective to wound. It required more than two men to care for wounded and extra hospitalization and none if he were dead. I fired my carbine on a 100 yard range and shot a perfect score in the standing, kneeling and prone positions. I went to mechanic school to learn vehicle maintenance, how to drive a tank, and a weasel, a full-track all-weather carrier.

On June 4th we moved to Poole on the channel and loaded our jeeps on an LCVP. The weather was bad, the channel had swells up to 10 feet and the water churned with white phosphorescent caps. We had torrential rain and were fog bound. When the landing craft was loaded, tug boats towed us out into the deeper water to wait for other craft and ships to be loaded. Our flat bottom landing craft bounced and rolled even though it was still in the harbor. Most of the troops were sea sick. We were scheduled to go across the channel on June 4th but the weather was too bad. When weather reports on June 5th were more favorable. General Elsenhower gave the order to go for operation “OVERLORD”. Crossing the channel was rougher man our voyage through the North Sea when we sailed to invade Africa. Our flatbottom LCT bounced, rolled and slammed the rough water; the craft sounded like it would disintegrate. AH the vehicles were moored to the deck with chains so they would not get smashed while bouncing around. Most of the troops were deathly sea sick and looked like dead men lying in their berths. Half way into the crossing we were told that we would go ashore in the Omaha sector of the beach at Normandy, France. The 71 mile trip lasted 6 1/2 hours. My 1st Division was assigned to spearhead the supreme operation in the most difficult part of the Normandy Atlantik Wall at Omaha Beach

The V Corps was made up of the 1st and 29th Infantry Divisions. The mission was to go ashore between Port-en-Bessin and the Vire River to establish a bridgehead so that the 2nd Armored and supporting units could unload. Our company commander was 1st Lt. Hume, my 1st platoon leader was Lt-Phiffips, and our battalion commander was Colonel Murdoch. 2^nd platoon was led by Lt. Walt Stevens, 3rd platoon led by Lt. Mardgbo and the 4th platoon was led by 2nd Lt. Dale Waldron. We had good leaders for Normandy and every confidence that we would prevail; however, nobody was footed into thinking it would be easy and h wasn’t. Our company commander was killed shortly after reaching Tour-en-Bessin and Lt. Stevens was the ranking officer to become our CO. He lasted through to me end of the war and was a good leader.

We were supposed to secure Colleville-sur-Mer and push southwest toward Caumont and St. Lo. Airborne units would jump to secure the roads and bridges. The 29th Division, less one regiment, and the 4th Infantry Divisions would go in on Utah Beach and move south to cut off the Cherbourg Peninsula. Our l6th and 18th Regiments reinforced by the 116th Regiment of the 29th Division comprised Force A; my 26th Regiment was in reserve. H-Hour was 6:30 am. June 6, 1944. Most of the channel was fog-bound and the German defenses were unaware of our approach until our ships stopped and began disembarking troops into LCVP (landing craft vehicles and personnel).

The initial assault was to be made by tanks with flotation collars but the channel was so rough they floundered and sank. When the personnel landing craft reached shore, they were stopped by obstacles built on sandbars. When the landing craft gates were lowered the soldiers stepped off into deep water with barbed wire and steel obstacles. Many of those who managed to crawl over the obstacles, stepped into a trench where water was over their heads. Some drowned, many lost their weapons and others died when the Krauts lay down devastating curtains of machine gun, mortar, rifle and artillery fire.

During the first hour, the assault force had almost 30% casualties. The bluff overlooking the beach had a network of pillboxes built of five to ten foot concrete walls and each bunker was connected by deep World War I type trenches. The small bunkers built into the bluff had small port holes whh machine gun pedestals that could traverse and lay a curtain of fire onto the beach. The large bunkers were equipped with artillery guns. They could roll out of the bunker at an angle, shoot at the ships anchored in the channel and retreat into the bunker to swab barrels and reload in safety and move out to continue shooting. We were told that our entire Air Force in England would saturate the landing area until no one could survive. When we reached the beach, the only craters we saw were those made by our big Navy guns. The Navy had to cease firing while our men were on the beach. Navigation was had. Our ground troops and airborne jumpers were scattered all over what turned out to be hell.

The beach area and bluff were mined and intertwined with barbed wire and concertina wire. 1st Engineers had to go before others to remove mine and obstacles while under murderous fire from the bluff above. The Jerries even had all their anti-aircraft guns zeroed in on the beach area. We were in luck because of the bad weather. Most of the German brass took off to visit their families in Germany and there was no one with authority to command the defense. The average German soldier could take orders but could not give orders to move troops. There were enough divisions beyond the bluff and on reserve in the rear areas to smash us and drive us into the sea.

Field Marshal Rommel supervised the building of the Adantic Wall and his field order was “we must succeed in a very short time. The enemy must be annihilated before he reaches the main battlefield**. He was visiting his family in Herrnngen near Uhn because he believed that it was impossible to launch an invasion force with enough strength during the stormy sea. Most of his staff also went home and there was no one left to move the troops who were on maneuvers just beyond the bluff. Our 16th Regiment finally reached the top of the bluff and at 17:00 hours my 26th Regiment was ordered ashore. Our mission was to pass through the 16th Regiment which was badly decimated. We passed through Tour-en-Bessin. The British and Canadians were on our left. On the 7^th we reached Etreham, Cussy on the 8th, Castilan on the 9th, Ballerpy on the 10th, Foulognes on the 11th and Caumont, our main objective, on the 13th.

Before Balleroy we passed Jerries and at night we had to secure our perimeter and post sentries to keep Krauts out of our motor pool. I took my guard duty turn at a hedge comer. There were shots fired all around me and I was alert. I kept hearing Jerries creeping up on me. We had a box of hand grenades and side arms in the foxhole. I kept straining to hear and tried to isolate the night sounds from possible human noise. Near the end of my two hour watch, I could hear chomping and crunching noises approaching. I was at high alert with nerves at a breaking point and scared, too. I was sure they were dose and I began puffing grenade pins and tossing grenades at the noise. When they exploded, I heard ohs and ahs and thrashing noises. When a couple of our guys came running, I told them that a bunch of Krauts were ready to attack me so I blasted them. I was relieved and when daynght came someone called, “Hey, Lebda, come and see all the Krauts you killed.” I walked over and before me lay a herd of cows tint escaped from the Germans and wandered up to my guard post. They were dead and belly-up, and 1 got moo-moo catcalls and razzing. I was scared many times before but never had combat fatigue. When my blood pressure reached a breaking point, my hair stood up pressing against my helmet, and my eardrums were ready to pop out. I broke and fired away into the darkness. 1 was never scared of anything I could see but at night my mind could play tricks on me and almost any strange night sounds brought out the worst in me if 1 could not isolate them. In places my fortitude seemed to desert me and just about any encounter with danger caused me to react without sound judgment. I just reached for what was there.

This entire area was checkered with hedgerows. A hedgerow is a five foot high ten foot thick fence made from centuries of decaying brush and weeds. These hedgerows surround fields of one to two acres and were killing grounds, obstacles for us, and good defense for the enemy. The Germans had three years to measure ranges for all their guns and every gateway was zeroed in for artillery and their big tank guns. The gates between fields were covered by hidden tanks and in most cases we had to use plow blades mounted on tanks to break through the hedges where the Krauts did not expect us.

We had air superiority and the Germans were limited to moving only at night. When we reached Caumont, we dug in to hold our gains until the Canadians moved in to protect our left flank. The newly arrived 2nd Infantry and supporting Armored Divisions moved in on our right flank. Force B on Utah cut the Cherbourg Peninsula in half and we had our beachhead and massive amounts of equipment with additional troops moving ashore. The 9th Infantry Division reached St. Lo and the entire bridgehead was secured when all our artillery was in place. The Germans were attacking us along the whole front but we all held. The Germans did breach our line on the right flank and pushed our 2nd Battalion out of Caumont. Our 3rd Battalion was in reserve and forced the Krauts to pull back and we closed the gap.

We had the high ground and every time a few of their tanks emerged our artillery and mortars lay down a curtain of fire to force withdrawal or leave them smoking. I had a 50 caliber machine gun mounted on my jeep for use against Jerry airplanes, and a 30 caliber Browning Automatic Rifle for shooting when I was forced to bail out into a ditch, but I could not use it because the tracers would give my position away and draw artillery fire. Caumont is a small town on high ground that overlooked a large plain. The plain covered a large valley and from the town we could see about six miles and anytime a Kraut moved among the hedges we directed artillery fire at them. Our field of fire was almost as good as what the Germans had back on the beach at Omaha. General Alexander was just about as pompous as was General Montgomery. The British were held near Caen and never reached their objective on time. When we reached Caumont our left flank was exposed for about three miles for a whole day until the Canadians moved forward to dose the gap. When the British could not take Caen, Montgomery ordered the British Air Force to fly in and bomb the friendly city. They devastated the city killing and burying thousands of friendly French civilians who could not flee the city because the Germans would not let them go. They did not take the city until we broke out at St. Lo and moved up to close the Falaise Pocket above Mortain and forced the Germans to withdraw or be trapped. Looking back at the beach from the top of the bluff, it had to be a miracle that the 16th, 18th, and the 116th Regiments prevailed. The entire bay area was crisscrossed with sharp steel obstacles designed to puncture boats and sink them while still out in the deep water of the Channel. There were three sandbars visible from the bluff and each one had steel contraptions welded in the form of tripods and jacks with barbed wire strung through the obstacle maze.

At the foot of the bluff, there was no vegetation. The land was devoid of any cover and the grass was eaten away by cattle that the Germans used for food There was no refrigeration to protect meat; therefore, they kept herds on the hillside for fresh meat and to prevent the growth of weeds. The first 30 feet above the water line was full of anti-personal mines, booby traps enclosed with a concertina and barbed wire fence to keep the cattle out of the mine field. Just below the crest of the bluff, they had large bunkers with steel doors and artillery guns. The ulterior was large enough to house a large platoon of gunners and hold enough ammunition and food to withstand a long siege. Around the large bunker, they had many smaller pillboxes to house machine guns with squad rooms for troops and ammunition. Each pillbox had five feet of reinforced concrete with port holes and pedestals to provide a crisscrossing field of fire down on the beach. The pillboxes were connected by 10 foot trenches with rifle and machine gun placements. The big bunker had a tunnel for egress to the top of the bluff and a network of artillery revetments. There were concrete pads with wrecked anti-aircraft 88mm guns to shoot at our airplanes. They were able to shoot down on the beach and at the troop-laden landing craft when they got hung up in the obstacles. I will always have the same picture the Germans had when they poured murderous gun fire down on our troops.

When I disembarked, our assault forces cleared the bluff of small arms fire, and the beach was still being saturated by artillery and mortar barrages. The water was littered with dead GIs and the small drop-off above the water line was covered with wounded soldiers. While the exploding shells on the beach and the roar of the big naval guns dueled, I could hear cries for help and prayers to God for mercy. The delirious cried for their mother’s help. They were sounds I would never forget.

Most of the credit for our successful assault and secured bridgehead should be awarded to the 1st Combat Engineers. They took the brunt of the enemy’s fire because we could not move through the mine field and shore obstacles. Crawling, probing and locating mines, they had to de­activate them and had to make the paths safe. When they reached die barbed wire obstacles they had to detonate bangalore torpedoes to Mast through the wire so the assault troops could proceed. When the ridge was secured, the engineers had to move their bulldozers in and cut a road up to the top of the Muff so tanks, artillery and trucks could move supplies and equipment off the narrow beach. The gigantic labor was accomplished under a curtain of artillery and mortar fire power.

Those who died should have gotten more than a Purple Heart, and those who survived should have gotten Medals of Honor because it was they who kept the Krauts from pushing the rest of us back into the sea. As the hundreds of thousands of troops moved ashore we secured and reinforced our bridgehead perimeters and made plans for the breakout. The Stars and Stripes was publishing stories and glorious accounts about the new divisions and their exploits but nothing was said about the 1st Infantry Division. The Germans knew where my division was located and they massed most of their artillery and armored division in front of us. They launched counterattack upon counterattack against us at Caumont. If they could destroy the Big Red One it would be a morale boosting victory.

The Caumont stalemate was broken on July 14, when the 11th Regiment of the 5th Infantry Division relieved us. The 1st Division moved to St. Lo just behind the 9th Infantry that was holding and we would again spearhead the allied breakout The operation was called “Cobra” Elaborate plans

called for the 9th, 4th, and 30th Infantry to penetrate and secure the flanks white the 1st Infantry with the 3rd and 2nd Armored Divisions would deliver a “Sunday punch” A flight of 3,000

Affied bombers and over 400 fighter planes would saturate the Nazi defense around St. Lo and prevent the movement of German reinforcements during the daylight hours.

On July 25, just after dawn, the heavy bombers came in low and began dropping thousands of tons of bombs on the Jerry positions. I was about a quarter of a mile behind the 9th Division and when the bombers were overhead they began releasing the bombs so they would explode just beyond colored panels which marked the end of our troop concentrations. Some bombs did fall short on the 9th Infantry but when the bomb run ended the Germans were shell-shocked and ineffective. The 1st Division, spearheaded with the Armored Divisions flanking us and the rout of the Germans was on. On July 26th we reached Marigny. The 3rd Armored by­passed Marigny and the major assault was in full swing toward Mortain. The British and Canadian Armies closed in and the Falaise district was overrun. There were small pockets of Germans scattered all over the landscape. They were elements from bombed out artillery units, members of staff, medical hospital people and regular soldiers. Those who were captured were dazed and shell shocked.

Colonel Francis Murdoch was our battalion commander. His driver got killed when his jeep detonated a Teller- mine near Brecy. Captain Stevens, our company commander told me to report to battalion headquarters with a jeep on detached service. I reported and was told that I would be the Colonel ‘s driver. First day out before Mortain, we encountered a group of Jerries crossing the road in front of us.  We stopped and watched them start across an open field. The Colonel grabbed my BAR and I got on the machine gun. They hit the ground and we started shooting. Some of them got up and ran toward a wooded area, but a few of them stayed down. Things quieted down and we made ready to proceed. I told the Colonel “good shooting” and he looked at me as though it was nothing. We drove forward without incident and reached the crest of a ridge and could see the town of Mortain. The road leading down to Mortain was a hard top surface and when we were halfway down, German tanks on a far ridge above the town began shooting at us with their high velocity guns. There were explosions all around us until we reached cover in the town.

I will always remember Mortain because it was the time when I came close to being killed. Germans were lobbing mortar shells into the town and the buildings did not look sturdy to take a hit so I decided to dig a foxhole next to a stone building. I had a regular spade shovel and quickly dug a hole in the sandy soil. I settled in the foxhole just in time to avoid getting blasted by a mortar shell that exploded about 10 feet from my shelter The eruption caved part of my foxhole in on me, and ruptured my ear drum making it bleed. Had I still been digging, I would have been cut into pieces. My jeep was parked dose by and it too got filled with shrapnel. One tire was flat, and the radiator sprung several leaks. I reported and told the Colonel my troubles and told him that I could fix some of the damage. I changed the tire, plugged a hole in the radiator tank, and with a pair of pliers I bent the vertical tubes shut enough to hold water. I got water from a well and made sure it would hold long enough to get us back to my company for repairs.

When the Colonel finished his conference, we started up the road. 1 kept the gear shift in four whell drive and when we got dose to the top of the hill the Kraut tanks began shooting their 88’s at us. We came to a cut in the bank, stopped and bailed out into a ditch on the incoming side of the road. The shells came skimming just a few feet above our heads and exploded all around us but the bank and ditch protected us. I did not take time to shut off the ignition. The loss of water overheated the engine and the jeep was enveloped in a cloud of steam- The Jerries stopped shooting and we jumped bade on the jeep and charged over the hill. Murdoch was a Lt. Colonel and one of those West Pointers who rose up the ranks in the Cavalry.

I returned to D Company and we found a damaged engine block so I had to get a new jeep. The rout was in full swing following the capitulation of the German Atlantic Wall and it looked like the war would soon be over. The Russians were chasing the Jerries on the eastern front and our Air Force was hammering the German industrial centers. A couple days later, we were told that Colonel Murdoch was wounded when he and his driver were ambushed by a group of disorganized Krauts. He stood alone and fought off the Jerries with his pistol even though he was wounded. I wished that I could have still been with him because I always had enough fire power on my jeep for just such a confrontation. Maybe I could have helped drive the Krauts away before he got shot.

Employing the blitzkrieg tactics we rolled toward Paris. We could have taken the city;

however, that honor was reserved for De Gaulle and his Free French Army with the aid of our 4th Infantry Division. My 1st Infantry by-passed Paris on the south and swung in a loop up the back side chasing Germans so the French could enter Paris unopposed. We charged up to Soissons where the division fought a major battle in World War I. We hastened the German departure out of Paris. The closer we came to Germany the more hostile the environment. The Luftwaffe was bolder and there were pockets of retreating enemy with enough strength to ambush pursuing allies; thus, it became necessary to send out patrols to locate these pockets. My jeep was the newest so I was dispatched to battalion and G-2. Our mission was to stay about two to five miles in front of our convoy. Our route took us past Avesnes to Maubeuge near the Belgium border. At each town and crossroad Lt. Laffley would refer to an overlay on a map and radio our coordinates to the trailing battalion. They said the 3rd Armored Division was on the road in front of us, but we did not believe them because we saw no sign of tank treads on the road and it was always evident that where a G.I. traveled, he left enough debris such as ration boxes and cans along the road. We had a get-a-way jeep following us at a distance far back as necessary to keep us in sight. We knew that we were expendable but we had to protect the convoy following us; however, we mowed so fast we outran the retreating Germans. We crossed the Belgian border and came into the village of Mons We stopped at a dividing circle where three roads crossed and intersected. The Lieutenant was reporting back to battalion. I got out of the jeep to check the tires and it was rather weird because no civilians came out to greet us. I tried to appear inconspicuous hi my movements but when I looked at a house I saw a curtain move and then I saw a Kraut helmet peeking through a hedge. I told the Lieutenant what I saw and he radioed a negative wipe-out and told me to get back in the jeep and circle the monument with a statue of an officer on a horse. He said “stay calm, don’t hurry and act like you see nothing” We waved off the get-a-way jeep and drove back the way we came. We did not draw any fire because they wanted to avoid detection. We gave a full description of what we saw and the troops dismounted and went into Mons on foot. When they reached the town all hell broke loose. We arrived at the same time that the 15th German Army was retreating out of Antwerp and the coastal defenses on the English Channel. We had a company of tank destroyers with us and they blasted the cross road and a German convoy that was trying to reach the unmanned Siegfried defenses not far away in Germany. We cut off the German escape route and called in our Air Force. The P51’sand P38’s came in strafing the German column putting them afoot. After a two-day battle we killed over 4,000 Krauts and captured over 50,000 prisoners.

Just north of Mons, I saw a white flag-waving group of Krauts about a thousand yards out in the middle of a large field. What looked like a brush pile was actually a repository for brush, rocks and garbage-Some Krauts took refuge in it and when we dropped a few mortar shells on them, they decided to surrender but would not come out.

Paul Pastusic and 1 decided to go out and escort them in. We were actually after toot and souvenirs. When we got dose enough and called them out, about 30 came out with their hands raised in surrender. As we escorted them out we were proud of our catch until we came upon Major Adams, our batallion commander. He proceeded to give us an ass-chewing lecture and threatened a court martial. He said, “there could have been some Germans who were wounded, dying and glad to take us to hell with them” Putting ourselves in jeopardy is a no-no in the army. I was happy because I got a Luger pistol and a pair of good binoculars for a souvenir. We also denied Hitler much equipment and many men he needed to strengthen the Siegfried Line forts. This action ended my patrol duty and 1 returned to D Company.

From Mons we drove almost unopposed to Liege and crossed the Meuse River, we captured the high ground near Henri-Chapelle, Belgium where the big American Cemetery now stands. We moved east through Eupen and arrived in the Hurtgen Forest and Camp Elsenbom. The Hurtgen Forest was as deadly as any battle that the 1st Division ever engaged in. It was named “The Green Hell because fix every yard we took we lost a man. The roads were fire lanes and artillery bursting in tree tops brought shrapnel down on us like a hail storm. Casualties on both sides were heavy as we pushed the Krauts back yard by yard through the Gressenich Woods and again in a tree-by-tree struggle. The Germans had the best observation posts and it seemed as if they were on the high ground and our struggle was always upward. The woods were so thick we could only see a few yards into the strong hold- The trees 10 to 15 inches in diameter planted about 5 to 10 feet apart precluded us getting any help from heavy equipment. It was all man to man hand fighting and our casualty fist was greater than ever before.

We would snake through the woods in jeeps carrying food and ammunition and return as litter bearers with wounded. We tried to remove our dead to where Graves Registration personnel could locate the remains. We broke through the woods near Aachen, Germany and were now confronted with the dragon teeth and fortified bunkers of the Siegfried Line. The Siegfried Line was a series of five rows of staggered concrete contraptions that looked like giant dragon teeth. They were partially buried in the ground and jutted up about five feet like a cone. They were built across farm land and extended from Holland in the north to Switzerland in the south. The weeds were mowed and it was impossible to approach it undetected. Inside the concrete abutments they had a line of bunkers constructed so that one could protect the next one to it. Each bunker was big enough to house a company of gunners. The armament consisted of machine gun ports, art,llery and anti­tank guns and ammunition storage bins. There were trenches connecting each pillbox. The land around these bunkers was cleared and level so they could give enfiladed crossfire and virtually prevent anyone to get close enough with high explosives. The Hurtgen Forest on both sides of the dragon teeth consisted of a dense preplanted pine woodland so spaced to prevent most vehicles from passing through. The one exception was the jeep. There were fire trails about a mile apart but they were heavily mined. The trees could be notched and toppled across paths with TNT I drove along a dirt road that looked well traveled just beyond the dragon teeth. I met a half-track coming and stopped to let him enough road to pass. It was a tight squeeze and we had words, but I was not about to ride the shoulder in fear of nones. He proceeded down the road and detonated a mine that I passed over. He was not killed but if I had detonated it I would no doubt have been killed. When I returned the half-track was removed and the road was cleared and taped where mines still remained. The engineers cleared enough space to allow one vehicle to traverse and the rest of the trail and sides were left with mines. One dark night, I delivered food and supplies and on the return trip 1 picked up three litters of wounded. On dark nights we never used headlights, only little cat eyes, and the only way to drive was to creep slowly and look up at the sky between tree tops and hope and pray not to veer off into a mine. One of the first lessons I teamed about driving in a war zone was to stay off the road shoulder and avoid pot holes and signs of road repairs because these were ideal places to conceal mines and booby traps.

One of the casualties I had on board was a close friend. J.C. Lawson was pinned in a shell note in front of the dragon teeth. A Kraut machine gunner spotted J.C.’s butt protruding above the hole and continued to strafe part of it off before night fall. The men cursed me with each bump because their wounds stiffened and hurt more with each job. The Germans knew where these lanes were and blasted the tree tops on both sides of the trail bringing down tree branches and steel fragments. The Siegfried Line was thinly manned but they still had the advantage from their prepared defenses. Our best sharp shooters directed their fire at the port holes and only a direct hit by a 155mm could dislodge them or kill them with concussion from the big shell. As soon as we cleared out a few bunkers, the 9th Armored Division moved in with bulldozer blades mounted on tanks and filled the tank traps in front of the teeth. They covered the concrete obstacles with dirt and bridged them so the balance of their tanks could go into Germany proper. It took Hitter seven years to build the fort, and it took only about an hour for us to make it obsolete.

We attacked the city of Aachen, a city that Hitter said could never be taken. He even ordered it to be defended to the last man. No foreign power had conquered Aachen since Charlemagne, King of the Franks did it in the year 798 A.D. My battalion entered Aachen on October 9th and forced its commander to surrender to us on October 21st. House to house combat was bitter and we had to blast holes through the walls to move forward. This was a major event in the war and my battalion received a Presidential Unit Citation for it. German headquarters was housed in a thick reinforced concrete block house on the highest ground in die city. Our Long Tom 155 artillery blasted it but the walls withstood the pounding. One 10 foot wall still has a 155mm unexploded shell lodged four feet inside the wall. My Aachen souvenir is a small silver chalice dated October 21, 1944, the day the garrison commander surrendered the city The Ardennes was fiercely fought for and most of the defenders were young boys, old men and men given combat duty from the Air Force. They were short of gas and airplanes and the men who manned the Air Force were sent to the front fine. Most of them were untrained and we pushed them back to the Roer River and had to wart for our supply fine to catch up to us. On the 14th of December 1944, we had been in contact with the enemy for 186 days since D-Day Our clothes were ragged and our equipment needed service before the cold winter set in. We were relieved by the 106th Infantry Division, a newly arrived unit from the States. We moved back to Belgium and my D Company was lodged in a large farm house just outside of Clermont. The farm house, owned by the Schmetz family, was a combination living quarters, stable for horses, cattle, hay and equipment storage.

The horses stomped, cows were restless and it was hard to steep. The 2nd and 3rd nights were not as bad, but shortly after midnight our Sergeant yelled, “Rise and get mounted, the Germans broke through and are advancing along the whole front.  There are German paratroopers dropped all over the place”. Our jeeps were still loaded, but our new clothes had not arrived yet. We hastened and drove out to the main road and joined the rest of our battalion. Snow had already covered the ground and die roads were iced. We were told that the Germans started what became known as the Battte of the Bulge or the Ardennes Offensive. We traveled all night and arrived in Butgenbach. Butgenbach lay on high ground along the Elsenborn Ridge. When we arrived in Butgenbach die German spearheading Sixth SS Panzer Army was only four miles down the road in Buffingen. We dug in at the edge of town. Our only heavy support was a company of the 635th Tank Destroyer battalion and our 81 mm mortars and machine-guns. Artillery did not have time to set up their guns. The main German offensive came down what is known as the Monschau Corridor, the same route the Germans used when they invaded Belgium and France. Their main objective was to spot the Allied armies in two. The Sixth Panzer Army was supposed to rush through us and the Fifth Panzer Army would attack the southern half while the Fifteenth German Army was going to envelop the British in the north. The Sixth Panzers would encircle our First Army’s V Corps, which was right in me path of Hitler’s counter offensive. The German offensive consisted of 26 Armored and Infantry Divisions organized into three armies. Their success depended on the Sixth Panzer Army with air support. The Null Tag (D-Day, December 16, 1944) jump-started with the SS Panzer (Hitler’s pride) and the 12th SS Panzer Division “Hitler Youth” blasted through our inexperienced 106th Infantry and the 99th Infantry Divisions. The Panzers rushed through a narrow corridor between Monschau and Losheim in Belgium and aimed their thrust at Liege on the Meuse River where we amassed enough supplies to carry the war to an end. This was the German maximum effort of the entire counteroffensive. Standing in their way was the inexperienced 99th and 106th Infantry and the battle wise 2nd Infantry Division.

The Germans unleashed their biggest artillery and rocket barrage of the war, dropped paratroops behind our lines to disrupt traffic, hold bridges and create general havoc among disorganized G.I.’s. The 2nd Infantry Division was attacking the Waak Dam on the Roer River and was pressed into service at Camp Elsenborn on high ground. Field Marshal von Rondstedt, commanded all the German armies. My 1st Division was called out of its reserve status and was rushed into Butgenbach on the southern ridge of Elsenborn.

The weather turned cold and snow began falling. Our Air Force was completely grounded. All three Germany armies in the attack breached the American lines held by the 99th, 106th, 104th, and 4th Infantry Divisions. General Dietrich’s Sixth Panzer Army was behind schedule and was stopped between Bullingen and Butgenbach. Our 18th Infantry Regiment was held m reserve and given the task of rounding up and clearing our rear areas of paratroopers. Our 16th Regiment moved south of Butgenbach and cut the railroad. The 26th Regiment dug in around Butgenbach on highway N32, the road the Germans Sixth Panzer Army needed to reach Liege and the Meuse River. The Sixth Panzer Army was spearheaded by the 12 SS Panzer and the 1st SS Panzer Divisions.

They came up N32 about noon and were met by a company of TD’s and a company of Sherman Tanks from the 9th Armored Division. The lead Panzers were knocked out blocking the road. Our 5th, 7th, and 32nd Field Artillery arrived and began firing at the German infantry who tried to protect their tanks. The remainder of the 20th of December our infantry out-dueled the Krauts. The snow kept falling and was over two feet deep. The Germans could not drive their tanks through the fields and were stuck along me paved rood behind burned out houses. Before night we got new Ml 0 tank destroyers. Our Regiment’s cannon company was in place and our 33rd Field Artillery arrived. Corps also sent forward a battalion of new 155mm Long Tom artillery that could really hammer big Kraut tanks.

I was called to the CP and Captain Stevens told me to go to battalion headquarters where I was to pick up a weasel at the regimental motor pool. A weasel is a full-track vehicle that can go through deep mud and snow like a snowmobile and carry up to a ton of equipment . It was powered by a six cylinder Studebaker engine and light armor plate that would stop small arms fire. I had been to school and could drive a full-track and was familiar with the maintenance of it. We only had one to service the whole battalion and ft became a 24 hour job delivering everything the line soldiers needed, h was not bad the first couple days but then ft became exhausting and sleep came only in snatches during loading and unloading time.

The Germans kept launching one assault after another.   There were an estimated eight divisions in front of us and ft seemed that they took turns putting die pressure on us. Nobody was going to push us around. While we dung to Butgenbach, our left and right flanks were pushed back leaving us several miles out in a narrow salient until the 30th moved in on our right and the 2nd Infantry secured our left flank. Montgomery wanted us to withdraw and straighten the line but Bradley overruled him because we would have to abandon a lot of equipment mired hi the mud and snow.

We were the proud infantry. We were also expendable and if we did not want to die in that Nazi-damned freezing snow we had to hang tight. We were proficient in the use of every weapon that the army had in its arsenal. We were experts with a rifle, a bazooka, a machine gun, a grenade, a mortar and even an anti-tank gun. Since the modem army rolled on wheels we had to know how to drive any vehicle that we might command. Also, in the infantry we had to be doctors because medical help was not always available. We had to be engineers because the path ahead was always littered with booby traps and mine fields with hazards that had to be recognized and diffused. We had to know how to use the enemy’s weapons in emergencies. An infantryman had to have endurance and be able to overcome hazards on beaches, rivers and long marches up rugged terrain. But mostly he had to know how to pray because he had to have God on his side. We teamed all this after Oran, Algeria, Tunisia, Sicily, Normandy, St. Lo, Mortain, Meubeuge, Mons, the Siegfried Line, Aachen, Hurtgen Forest, Monschau, Hamisch and before the Roer River Marshes. We were dog-tired, lousy, dirty and cold but we still would not give up what we fought so hard for and what so many of our buddies died for. I don’t think we would have pulled back even if all the brass in the army ordered us to.

The SS thought they were supermen and attacked in relays. They knew that they faced the 1st Division and were committed to destroy it and avenge the loss in Africa and Normandy that we inflicted on them. Our 1st Engineers lay mines over the gateway Butgenbach and our cannon company moved in to suitable positions to kin the tanks. 1 kept delivering a constant supply of mortar, machine gun ammunition, food and water. From emplacements far in our rear, our artillery fired a steady stream of explosives that swished low overhead and burst around the base of our high ground; namely, Buffingen. During the 21st of December they estimated over 10,000 rounds delivered in one day and our mortar platoons lofted missiles as fast as we could deliver them. White returning with a load of ammunition, I encountered a group of soldiers walking across a deep snowy field. They were dressed in our uniforms. I stopped when they baited me a short distance away. I was suspicious because they were not dressed good enough for the bad weather we had. I had a 50 caliber machine gun mounted for shooting at aircraft and got set because we were warned that the Germans infiltrated our lines to disrupt traffic and create confusion among troop movements.

I yelled across the short distance and pointed my big 50 at them and asked what the hell they were doing this far from Butgenbach. They spoke good English and said that they were replacements going to the front. That answer really made me suspicious because all replacements came property dressed, loaded with barracks bags, extra clothes and personal things. They had none so I asked the old standby “who are the Yankees”. One of them answered Americans. I asked for the password and they did not know ft. I asked a few other questions about states and capitals and got no answer. Replacements were sent in from regiment on personnel carriers, big 2 1/2 ton trucks. If one of them had told me to go to hell I would have believed them. The more 1 looked at them the more scared I became. 1 set my sights on them and mowed them down. While driving past them 1 noticed they were young kids. When I reached my battalion, 1 said nothing about it just in case 1 made a mistake and killed some of our guys. That evening a telephone repair crew came across them and reported that a group of dead Germans were discovered by the 18th Regiment assigned to dear out our rear area of von der Heydte parachutists who were scattered over an area much wider than planned.

Battalion attached C Company to the 2nd Battalion dug in at Dom Butgenbach located about 400 yards east of the town. Dom Butgenbach was a large Belgium farm house with many smaller buildings. Our A and B Companies were sent southwest of the town. We also had the 745th Tank Battalion with tanks and a company of tank destroyers equipped with new self-propelled 90mm guns, a much better gun than the German 88mm gun. The 624th TD Company also had some three inch guns. Our 33rd Field Artillery Battalion set up their field pieces about a half mile northwest of Butgenbach. Our Regimental Commander Colonel Seitz, had been with us in Africa, Sicily and Normandy and was battle wise. The 12th SS Panzer Division began probing our line. It was backed by the 25th Panzergrenadier Regiment but was slow in arriving in Bullingen. The heavy Mark IV’s and Tiger tanks churned up the frozen roads into a muddy quagmire and many of their tanks required towing when they slid off the road. We did not have time to lay mines and we were lucky to stop them with anti-tank guns and tank destroyers. When the Krauts broke through our Roer River defense, there was a field hospital at Dom Butgenbach.

When we reached the place, we found abandoned medical supplies and food. The 99th Division had a command post in Butgenbach and when they pulled back, they also left food, clothes, ammunition and gasoline stores. They also abandoned records, maps and their colors along with our flag. It was bitter cold and we were glad to get more clothes and blankets. The only good they left were already prepared foxholes and dug outs with roofs. One of the most disgraceful displays of cowardice occurred when a one-star general came with a bunch of Sherman tanks in full retreat. He said that a large column of Kraut tanks was pursuing him and he suggested that we follow them. C Company’s Captain told him that the 1st Division never retreats and that we took this land once and that we did not want to do it again. We asked the general to join us but we could not order him to stand fast. We could have used those tanks but he still pulled out. Six Jerry Tanks broke through and roamed the back streets of Butgenbach and overran our A Company position. They almost wiped out the entire company and created a three hundred yard gap in our defense. Our TD’s located and destroyed five of them and forced one to retreat. My Commanding Officer Captain Stevens ordered his HQ platoon with cooks, clerks and jeep drivers from the motor pool to fill the gap.

I had the big 50 caliber mounted on my weasel and with Captain Stevens as my gunner, we drove over snow banks and helped fill the void in our fine. I admired that Captain. He was the only CO we ever had who did not keep his butt hidden in a safe place. We held against repeated counterattacks until the 3rd Battalion of the 18th Regiment came in to fill the under manned gap. Our 5th, 7th, and 32nd Field Artillery fired their field pieces and commenced lobbing shells over our heads. A battery of 155mm Long Tom self-propelled artillery arrived and when all the guns opened up at night there was a dazzling light show that fit up the sky in back of us and around the Krauts in Bullingen about three miles down the road. Chemical battalions moved in with 4.2 mortars and gave support just beyond our front fine. Our C Company was supporting the second battalion in Dom Butgenbach and needed barbed and concertina wire to slow down the attacking Germans. My weasel was the only vehicle that could go over deep snow. I loaded the weasel at night and a runner from C Company came to guide me down to Dom Butgenbach. I could not help but make noise and the GI’s cursed at me when the Krauts began shelling us. I ducked into a large gun pit that was dug by a retreating gun crew from the 99th Infantry Division artillery.

After the Jerry artillery stopped, 1 found my weasel disabled and a crater near the right track. We quietly unloaded the wire. I did not want to use the big 50 but 1 still had my BAR. Shortly after the barrage, we could hear Kraut tanks coming. The battle renewed when one of our anti-tank guns from cannon company began shooting at the tanks. About a dozen Jerry tanks shot at the muzzle Mast of the anti-tank crew and quickly silenced h. Another tank came forward and I ducked down and kept popping up looking for a target. They set my weasel on fire and began grinding tracks over foxholes, and \ thought 1 was a goner.

An artillery observer called for fire down on our position and the tanks backed off and ran. I stayed in the hole all day with no water and no food because my rations got burned in the weasel. When night set in, I knew the area was mined so I stayed in the tracks I made in the snow and returned to my company in Butgenbach and repotted my weasel loss to Captain Stevens. I got some flack but was not blamed for it.

When the Germans could not break through the 26th Regiment, Von Rundstedt began sending some of his divisions south to look for other ways to break through. The delay allowed the Allies to bring in reserves with Patton’s 3rd Army and plug the hole at Bastogne and other places. Our 18th Regiment cleared the rear areas of Kraut paratroopers and when word of a massacre at Malmedy reached us there was a grim determination to hold fast and punish any Jerry we could get our hands on. When the weather cleared, the sky became filled with our aircraft and the Nazi counter offensive came to a standstill. The Stars and Stripes quoted General Bradley saying that the 1st and 2nd Infantry Divisions saved the Allied bacon because the main German plan was to breach the Elsenbom, Butgenbach and Monschau Corridor and force their way to the huge supply dumps around Liege, Eupen and Verviers.

Their main thrust was up highway N-32 to Butgenbach when the 1st Infantry was relieved by the 104th and 106th Divisions and moved back to regroup and get new equipment. The 26th Regiment was the last to pull back and ended up closest to the front and when the counter offensive began, the 26th was the first to move out to engage die Panzers. The 26th dug in on N-32 at Butgenbach and when the weather cleared, we did not yield an inch of the battleground assigned to us. Our defense of the Ardennes German counteroffensive should forever be a mark as an ever famous victory; however, I also witnessed some of the most shameful and cowardly behavior that I experienced during my military service. We lost our Motor Sergeant via rotation to the States and 1 was promoted to his place in the motor pool. We could begin to see the end of the war, but there were still hundreds of ways to die. We still had to retake the Siegfried Line forts, cross the Roer River and meet resistance across most of Germany before we reached Berlin. What seemed like a million miles to go when we invaded Oran now appeared to be only a million stones throw away and was like the light at the end of the tunnel, but we were not through killing. We would have to cross many rivers, endure many bursting bombs, crashing artillery, chattering machine gun fire and cracking rifle fire before we could relax. Also, it was now time to be more cautious and not take chances, be alert and pray that they did not still have a bullet or shell with our name on it. In a war like this, fate is indifferent to who fives, dies or becomes maimed for fife. When the Kraut SS captured and murdered about 86 Gl’s in Mahnedy and God knows how many more, they created a sense of fear and hate which permeated the whole Allied Army and from that time on we would give no quarters, especially to the Waffen SS. Around the middle of January, we started rolling east toward Faymonville where we met Patton’s 3rd Army and the rout was on. The 1st, 2nd, 99th, and 9th Armored Divisions began a series of rollbacks and as the northern Kraut armies fell back, the southern German armies had to withdraw.

The ground under the deep snow was frozen more than 18 inches and TNT blocks had to be used to soften the frozen ground to make h soft so foxholes could be dug. We moved so last that we began to take many prisoners as many as 15,000 a day. We crossed the Roer River and slugged our way into Bonn on the Rhine. We moved through the city and found a large bridge destroyed. Word arrived to move south to Remagen where the 9th Division held a bridge and bridgehead across the Rhine. 1 drove across the Rhine over a pontoon bridge just north of the Ludendorff Bridge. The bridge was still in place and standing just up the river about 2000 yards. We moved south and inland to enlarge and secure the bridgehead amid fierce Kraut artillery shelling. As we moved east, the roads became more littered with Kraut equipment.

On Easter Sunday, we took off for Berlin down their autobahn using all four lanes traveling at full speed. Before we reached Berlin, orders came to veer south to the Harz Mountains, a forested region much like the Hurtgen Forest. Once again we encountered mined roads, blown bridges, large trees toppled across the road and huge boulders rolled onto the road with TNT. And again, we had to put up with murderous tree bursts. When we reached the summit of the Harz, we encountered one of their last stands. The crest was boulder strewn and gave the German SS good cover and concealment A few of our guys were wounded, they were field dressed but could not be evacuated and when the Jerries counterattacked, our troops had to withdraw. When we finally retook the hill, we found the wounded with slit throats. This was the last straw and every black uniformed Kraut was left where he was encountered. The big payoff came on April 20th when we cleaned out the Harz Mountain stronghold and pursued the Kraut survivors down toward Nurnberg.

When we stopped near Osterode to straighten our line, I discovered that one of my drivers, and his jeep, was missing. My driver. Bob Walden, told me the absent driver stayed at a farm house back about seven miles. I took him and his jeep and went looking for the deserter. When we came to the house, 1 met a middle-aged fat woman. I showed her my military identification pass book and told her I was a military policeman looking for an American soldier. She kept saying “nicht, nicht something”, I don’t recall of it. I forced my way into the house, went into a bedroom and saw a Gl helmet on a chair. 1 looked under the bed and there he was. I still remember his name. I was so damn mad I almost shot him because I erroneously reported him present on my morning report. 1 could have been in a lot of trouble. I found his jeep in the barn; he may be alive; therefore, I will not mention his name. 1 gave him rough duty until he realized his mistake.

Just north east of Nurnberg we came upon Nordhausen, a Nazi concentration camp and crematory. I freed the prisoners in the labor camp. They were Russian soldiers and civilian men, boys and girls. The prison guard wore a Waffen SS helmet. 1 took a pistol and a red swastika arm band off him. One of his hands was missing and I wanted to shoot him but one of the prisoners said “nicht schiessen” I asked if anyone spoke Slavic or Polish because I could speak both languages I discovered a Polish boy. I asked him why I should not shoot the guard because he appeared to be a Waffen SS follower. They told me that he treated them pretty good and gave them food, so I told the Kraut to go home. They told us about a crematory in back of the camp. Some of our guys went to look at it I did not go because of the stench and I did not have a gas mask; I lost it somewhere along the fine. We moved east of Hof and arrived in Grastitz, Czechoslavakia.

About noon on May 7,1945, a Major General Fritz Benicke with a group of staff officers arrived at our 26th Regiment to arrange a meeting between General Taylor of the 1st Infantry with German General Osterkamp for a peace agreement to salvage some prestige and honor with the Allied Command. The German High Command signed unconditional surrender terms to all German land, sea and air forces to the Allies that called for a cease fire order at midnight May 8th or the first minute of May 9, 1945. What seemed like a million miles to Berlin on November 8, 1942 m Oran, was now no more.

The day after the war ended, one of my drivers was bringing me back from battalion and took the wrong turnoff. We ended up among a large army of Krauts who surrendered to us. They were from the German 12th Korps who fled to our sector to get away from the Russians. They deposited all their arms in a large barn and waited for our military to take care of them. They were hungry and bewildered because they did not know their fate. I was scared because I did not know if they would let us go. We had a couple cases of C-rations and I acted friendly. Those who spoke English asked us what they should do. I told them to stand fast and if anyone was near home they could go and not be molested. We gave them the C-rations and told them we would send more food and drove away back to Karlsbad and back to Grastitz

When we came into Hof a few days earlier, I came to a brewery and distillery. 1 had a lot of space on my supply 2 1/2 ton truck. We stopped at the distillery to buy some schnapps but there was no one there. The place was deserted. Bill Lee and Joe Woostey helped me load the truck and empty jeep space with bottled schnapps and cognac. We planned a party at wars end. Battalion discovered our loot and we had to share it with all the companies.

We stood fast on our line of defense because rumor had it that the Russians might attack and stab us like they did in Poland at the beginning of the war. After a tense week, we could relax and rotation back to the States was in the works. Of the 247 men in my D Company who left the States in 1942, only 9 of us survived. Rotation would start with those who earned the highest number of overseas points. I ranked in the group that had the highest number of points and we were the first to go home. The Big Red One emerged with the reputation of being the best combat team in the United States Army and since I never missed a day in its missions, 1 felt that I was also one of the best soldiers to ever serve in that army. If were to name a hero of the war, i would not be Ike, Brad, Monty, Teddy, Clark, nor Allen – it would be Sergeant Gray of C Company, 26th Regiment.

When the German experienced desert army overran our position in the Kasserine Valley, Tunisia, we were a platoon size group of inexperienced soldiers, demoralized and completely surrounded by a Kraut Panzer Army. Like a general, Sergeant Gray organized us and led us in a breakout even though we were more than 40 miles in enemy territory. For three days Gray led, badgered and counseled us in our withdrawal while a German Army tried to destroy us. Sergeant Gray should have received the highest military honor because the men he extracted and saved went on to form the cadre that led the Blue Spaders and the Big Red One to some of their famous battles and victories.

I came back to the States on a Liberty Ship. We were cramped and the food was lousy but there were no gripes because we were going home. We arrived in New York to a throng of people and music. The Statue of Liberty looked good and was worth fighting for. We boarded a train and moved to Indiantown Gap Military Reservation for the purpose of separation from the army. The separation center was jammed with returning service men and they rushed us through and did not complete our discharges. They left out important information that would serve us later. They did not fist any of my injuries, military medals or qualifications; however, they did take time to get me to enlist in the Army Reserves. I was very glad to get home so 1 did not take time to look at my separation papers until a week later and h was too late to make a correction. I got $300 traveling money and grabbed my barracks bag and personal possessions and rode a bus out to the Pennsylvania Turnpike and thumbed a ride. I got a ride with a man going across state and I told him I wanted off at the number 10 interchange in Somerset. I would have another 19 miles to go. I told him much of my adventures and when we reached Somerset, he got off and went out of his way to give me a ride the rest of the way home. I came home and everybody came to see me. My brothers Stanley, Michael, and Anthony were still in the service but they were in the Pacific.

The same day I got home I drove about 22 miles to see Caroline, my pen pal. She wrote to me frequently and I think I fell in love with her before I saw her. When I arrived at her home, I was greeted by her look-alike twin sister, and she told me her name before I could embrace her. When Caroline came, I was pleased because she was more beautiful than her picture.

A grateful nation and its Congress passed a GI Bill of Rights that would give us a scholarship to a college of our choice. I chose to go to college. I visited the Registrar at the University of Pittsburgh at a time when enrollment was low and was accepted without testing even though I was already two weeks late in starting the semester. I was five years out of high school and was not prepared for academic studies. I burned midnight oil to catch up with studies and keep up with the rest of the class. Caroline helped by correcting my grammar and typing all my reports. To give me more time for studies, we got married during my Sophmore year and learning fell into place with more time for studies.

I graduated with a degree in Industrial Sales Engineering in the fall of 1950 and while taking a break before job interviews, I received a letter from the Army to report for duty for the war in Korea. I stayed in the reserves because the Russian dictator, Khrushev made it known that Russia would bury the United States and communism was spreading throughout the world Communist North Korea was marching against Democratic South Korea and the United States with the United Nations chose to hah the spread of communism in Asia.

I reported to Fort Campbell, Kentucky for a refresher course and was involved in a training accident and ended up in the military hospital. I had amnesia that wiped out my memory for almost a year back. I never found out what happened to me because the training cycle had already shipped out to Korea. When I received some therapy, I began to remember who I was and why I was back in the Army. I lost all my possessions but had enough money to make a collect call back home to notify Caroline about what happened.

Caroline came to Fort Campbell on a bus and the more we talked the better my memory improved. My head felt like it was caved in and my back and chest cavity was one giant bruise. After a little over two months in the hospital I begged a release. The Army kicked me around the post begging for food for about a week, and they finally put me in a cycle that just finished training and was ready for shipment overseas. I was completely out of shape after four years of college and laying in the hospital for over two months. I did not get time to sharpen my skills with a rifle and all the other work that is needed to make a good combat soldier. We boarded a train and traveled to Camp Stoneman in California then to Travis Air Force Base for shipment to Japan and the war in Korea. At Travis we boarded a United Airlines Charter and flew to Hawaii for refueling then to Wake Island, and on to Tokyo, Japan. The situation in Korea was bad because the Chinese jumped the Yalu River and our Army needed help. We were rushed around. We received more inoculation shots, converted what money we had into yen and since it was winter in Korea, we were issued winter clothing. We shipped out to the port of embarkation for Korea.

Along the way, I got tangled up in another mishap. Once again I had a loss of memory and could not comprehend what happened. I recovered at a medic station and after a thorough examination I was declared unfit for combat I had headaches almost constantly and when I asked for codeine, they refused me and said I was to be shipped to 2nd Army Headquarters on the northern island of Japan for local assignment. I arrived in Sapporo as a Budget and Fiscal Clerk. While there I also worked on payroll and accompanied our Disbursement Officer on his trip out to meet incoming troop ships and helped convert dollars to yen. The snow on Hokkaido was over eight feet deep and it seemed that everyone owned a pair of skis. When I was a kid I skied a lot and once you know how, you never forget. I was out on the slope almost every evening. I finished my enlistment and the one year freeze and decided h was my time to begin my life’s work but not in the military.

I got orders to return to the states and flew down to Tokyo on a military transport. Once again I got a flight pass to board a United Airplane for the trip back. We landed on Wake Island again and they gave us a couple hours before continuing the flight. I walked around the Island and saw the rusted Jap tanks and busted landing craft. I was aware of the heroic stand the small Marine contingent made against the large Japanese Invasion Armada on December 8,1941. I was still a young man. I picked up a hand full of sand, coral, and soil that would forever be sanctified by the blood of almost every soldier, marine, sailor, airman, and coast guardsman who lost Ins life in the Pacific part of World War II. I clutched the sand and soil and looked to God and said “please no more war” and put it into my pocket and brought it home where I still have it preserved. We boarded our plane and continued our trip via Hawaii to California.

It is hard to describe those turbulent years because they were filled with so many unknowns – like fear, death, pain, and privation; however, they were years of transition where I grew from boyhood to manhood. The teaming experience could never come from books and could never be bought with all the money in the world. I will always be proud to have served on four continents. I would like to forget about the Korean War because it interrupted and added little to my life. It was a war that should not have been, even though h was a step in the right direction to stop the spread of communism which threatened to engulf the whole world much like Hitler and the Japs intended to do. For my service I was awarded a Combat Infantry Badge, two French Croix de Guerre, one for Kasserine Pass in North Africa and another for the initial assault on Normandy. I also received two Belgian Croix de Guerre, one for the Battle of Mons and another for the Ardennes (Battle of the Bulge). 1 received three Arrowheads for the invasions in North Africa, Sicily and Normandy, three Bronze Stars, a Presidential Unit Citation, Expert Rifle and Machine Gun Badges, a Drivers and Mechanics Badge, Victory Europe Medal, Occupation Medals for Germany and Japan, Honorable Lapel Service Pin, United Nations Service Medal, Army Reserve Medal, Good Conduct Medal, American Defense Medal and an American Expedition Medal. In the post war period I got a Commemorative Medal from Great Britain for the Invasion of France. The citizens of Normandy gave me a Gold Commemorative Medal for helping liberate France from the Germans. During post war visits I received many accolades and certificates of thanks from the towns that we liberated. My photo and a brief biography as a liberator from America has a niche in a Clermont, Belgium museum, and my name etched on a stone imbedded in a wall near the door along with other names of liberators from the 26th Regiment. The Curator wrote that it would be there forever. I brought home many scars. My right knee injury is always painful. A shrapnel wound in my ankle and thigh irritates during cold days and damaged lap joints hinder walking 1 have high tone deafness from explosions and disfigured toes and feet caused by the frigid temperatures during the Battle of the Bulge AH aspirations 1 had for playing professional baseball went to naught when I destroyed my pitching arm throwing hand grenades on a cold night in the Battle of the Bulge When the Krauts attacked Butgenbach, there was no time to warm up tendons and muscles, and just throwing the explosives stretched and damaged my whole arm. I still cannot play the game with grandchildren. The injuries I got during the Korean War recall continue to plague and hinder most of my activities. Calcium build up in damaged joints hurt with every change of weather.

When the media writes about soldiers missing in action, I cannot help but remember how German Panzers ground our men in their foxholes and covered them with sand. I can picture MIA soldiers in the Tunisian Desert in places where Graves Registration personnel feared to tread because of mine fields and because we moved too last from one battleground to another. There were places virtually inaccessible in cactus fields where a soldier would do battle but where Graves Registration personnel would not enter. The Green Hell of the Hurtgen Forest still has skeletons covered with decaying vegetation. I still remember times and culverts where I could have been buried. With all these memories, I still wonder how efficient and thorough our Graves Registration personnel were in their search and body recovering.

I was often asked what my feelings were when under fire and buddies around me were going down. After seeing so much death from Oran to Graslitz, a person sort of becomes inured to what could happen to him. For the longest time I felt that I would die fighting, but there was that inborn sense that challenged danger and there was that belief that I was blessed by a Divine Power. I do not know how many days I was in contact with the enemy, but I know that I never missed a day of combat while with the 1st Battalion of the 26th Regiment. There was always that sense of fear but there was also that sense of so-be-it. The years following the wars were filled with many blessings.

From the beginning our business nourished. We were warmly accepted by our new town and made many friends. We were blessed with three children who grew up and never embarrassed us by getting into trouble. John was born after I returned from the conflict in Korea. He was a good student and graduated from Ambridge Pa. high School. He went on to Penn Stale University for a B.S. degree in Biology, then to Clarion State for a masters degree in Biology, also to the University of Pittsburgh for a masters degree in Radiological Health. He is employed at the Duquesne Light Nuclear Power Plant in Shippingport, Pa. He is married to Lori Badgley who has a degree in Secretarial Management. Carol, our second child, graduated from Ambridge High School and enrolled at Penn State University for a degree in accounting. She married William Loftus and helps him operate their auto repair business. They have six children, Christy Lyn, William, Michael, Caron, Patricia and Matthew and a grandchild, Ashley. James, our third child, graduated from Ambridge High School and attended Penn State University. He is now employed as an Auto Repair Technician. He is married to Barbara Frederick and they have two children, James and Joshua.

I have written this more than 50 years after most of these events took place and changed the course of my fife. I wrote a few short stories about my experience and I never would have gotten around compiling them if my 26th Regiment Association had not requested it. They told me that all my history would be lost forever after I go to my Maker, and there was a good chance that my grandchildren would some day want to know what I did to help change the course of history and how it changed the direction it would go.

I am sure there are a number of events 1 have forgotten, but I have related as accurately as I could. Anyone who has ever been in combat has seen and done things never to be proud of and such events would best be left unsaid and forgotten. Some of my accounts were refreshed by going back to Europe for the 50th Anniversary commemorating the Invasion of Normandy. I went with a group of war buddies and everybody had something to say that refreshed my memory and confirmed the events as I remembered them.

My hair is white and so is Caroline’s but after 50 years I can still fit into my World War II uniform. I am proud to wear the uniform to parades and memorial functions because there are only a few old soldiers around that can still fit into theirs. Caroline was a graduate from the Johnstown School of Business and became my tutor and reviewed and corrected my grammar which was atrocious. Caroline? Well, she is still a good looking woman for her age. She had a career too. During the war, she worked at the OPA and while 1 was going to college, she worked for the Veterans Administration in Johnstown and Pittsburgh. We have three children, eight grandchildren and one great grandchild. Caroline worked for the J.C.Penney Department Store and she was the most instrumental help that sent our children to college.

I belong to the local VFW, American Legion, Veterans of the Battle of the Bulge, the Society of the First Infantry Division, and the 26th Regiment Association. Our marriage has been a good one. We just had our 50m Anniversary on June 14, 1997 and as always on Flag Day. I hope I am always remembered as a good husband, a good father and a 1st Class Patriot. After my military commitment was completed, I tried to work in the field of my major, but I was turned away because of my army injuries. Nobody wanted to take a chance on my disabilities, so, I decided to go the way of self-employment. I went into the Automobile Service Station business and it became my life’s work until I retired. I can thank the military because it took me out of a grubby coal mine and turned nay life around, gave me an education which I could never afford, and the G.I. Bill that helped me buy my home.

Also, because I was with the Big Red One, I came away with a bounty that opened many doors that would have been closed otherwise. In addition to the rewards I already mentioned, I was welcomed and joined the three most prestigious organizations; namely, the Veterans of Foreign Wars, the American Legion and the Society of the First Infantry Division. The motto of the Big Red One – NO MISSION TOO DIFFICULT, NO SACRIFICE TOO GREAT, DUTY FIRST – has always governed much of everything I do.

With the help of men like Benny Zuskin, I was able to return to Europe and be a part of the ceremonies commemorating the 50th Anniversary of D-Day. I wore my World War n uniform with pride. We visited the training areas in England. I marched in the Weymouth Parade and took part in the commemorative services at Torpomt and the Sir Walter Raleigh Naval Academy honoring the sailors who made the ultimate sacrifice. On Omaha Beach, we had clearance to go aboard the USS George Washington, our aircraft carrier, and participate with President Clinton, the First Lady, the chiefs of the five branches of service and members of the United States Congress in commemorative services.

We were treated as VIP’s and were honored by the President with a handshake. I saluted the President, held and thanked him for attending the service. He returned my salute and while we shook hands, he thanked me for what we did 50 years ago. The First Lady also stood in line to receive us. When she gave me her hand, I thanked her for attending the service. I tried to be gallant and I kissed her hand. She also rewarded me with an autographed portrait taken by her press secretary when I kissed her.

We also attended the services at the Colleville Memorial “The American Youth Rising from the Waves”, with the President, Walter Cronkite, and thousands of D-Day veterans. Our C & D Company group visited Omaha Beach when h was at low tide. The obstacles were removed but the three sand bars and trenches were still visible and the bunkers, pillboxes and gun emplacements were still in evidence even though they were partially destroyed. The bluff looks as I always remembered

Our route to Caumont took us through Tour-en-Bessin, Etreham, Cussy, Balleroy and Bayeux. The hedgerows are the same but this time we met friends. We celebrated by drinking wine while they thanked us for their freedom. I got bloody sand from Omaha Beach and some 30 caliber cartridge brass that I fired 50 years ago out of my foxhole at Cauont.

We had a bus that took us from St. Lo to Marigney then to Mortain. We by-passed Paris because they did not want us in 1944 and we arrived in Moos, Belgium. We traveled on super highways and nothing looked the same. We arrived in Liege, our C.P. in Belgium. We traveled by bus to Camp Elsenborn, Butgenbach, Dom Butgenbach, Buffingen, Stolberg, Aachen, and the Siegfried Line defenses. The dragon-like teeth of the Siegfried still stand like sentinels and ghostly evidence of Hitler’s dream. The Hurtgen Forest where we broke through to capture Aachen still appears as it did over 50 years ago and still hides its dark secrets. The Big Red One Memorial in Bullingen with the names of the men from the 26th Regiment gives a mute picture of their heroic deeds and sacrifices. Aachen was rebuilt and the debris was hauled away to form a man-made mountain. The field at Malmedy where the atrocities occurred is overshadowed by flags of every Allied nation who participated in the war. The poor residents of Malmedy used cut stone from a destroyed building to build a memorial to the 86 soldiers who were murdered by the Waffen SS

Although we were wined and dined, the trip was not always a joyous one because whatever direction we took, we were always confronted by a field of white crosses. At Colleville S/M I barely entered the resting place of heroes, my eyes became flooded with tear’s and my throat became constricted to where I could hardly breathe and had to retreat. It was the same at Henri-Chappelle, Belgium but I did distribute poppies and offered belated condolences.

At a German burial ground, I wanted to urinate on some graves but decided that they were already in hell and that should be enough. Field Marshal Model was one of many Germans buried there. I was never an avowed religious person but I asked God for help every foot of the way between Oran and Graslitz and I tried to record only those events that history books have not touched.

 John F. Lebda, Co. D, 26th Infantry Regiment, 1st Infantry Division

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Year 1945:  More War?  World Peace?
Time:  January 1st, 1945
Place:  Ardennes Forests of Belgium and Luxembourg

 New Year’s Day, 1945 dawned crystal clear and bitterly cold.  Boughs of the Ardennes fir trees were strained under the weight of the recent snowfall.  More snow had descended on the Allied troops during the night, adding to the misery of the intense cold.  Lack of warm clothing and adequate footwear plagued the troops in their quest to shove the German army back to their homeland.  Many soldiers, especially frontline infantry troops, suffered frozen feet.

The unexpected breakthrough by the German troops occurred two weeks ago.  Hundreds of thousands of Allied soldiers were rushed into the Ardennes to blunt the German move.  This included 15,000 men of the 75th Infantry Division, 291st Infantry Regiment, Cannon Company.  The truck driver of Cannon 14 was counted in those thousands that had rushed north into the Ardennes from a camp near Paris, France.  He had witnessed the blinding shell bursts as his motor convoy approached the front lines on that memorable night journey ten days ago.   

 The truck driver and his buddies welcomed hot coffee from the company’s mess tent.  Those cooks worked long hours to serve hot food under primitive conditions. While sipping the steamy liquid, they had several laughs about last night’s spectacular bombardment. Every artillery piece in the Allied armies fired three rounds into the German lines at the stroke of midnight.  The three 105 mm cannons of the Company joined in the New Year serenade to Hitler.  

 January 4, 1945 was a signal date for the truck driver.  It was his father’s 47th birthday—a veteran who had served in France in the first War.  His father was a truck driver with a balloon observation company. His outfit would launch a gas filled balloon tethered to a ground-based winch. Two observers in the basket of the balloon would peer across the enemy lines, checking on their activity.  The crew would quickly winch the balloon to the safety of the ground.  Those balloons were prime targets for German aviators. The truck driver recalled conversations with his father regarding the outcome of the first War.  His father had strong feelings that problems with Germany had not been resolved and that another war was inevitable.  He felt that his son would likely be caught up in another conflict.  These conversations took place in the 1930’s as Hitler was rebuilding Germany into a military power.  All this went through the truck driver’s mind as he and his buddy transported men and supplies in the campaign to drive the German army from the Ardennes salient. 

 Sound sleep became a problem for the Allied troops.  Each night the German buzz bombs sputtered overhead.  None had crashed near the Cannon Company site, but the soldiers were always alert to that possibility.  On trips to army depots near Liege and Spa, Belgium, the truck driver had seen collapsed buildings and giant craters as the result of buzz bomb strikes.  “Bed Check Charlie”, that lone German aviator, continued to annoy Allied troops by his late night sorties. In mid January, the truck driver found himself in an army field hospital in Spa.  He could not remember the details, but his buddies brought him up to date.  He had been in the bitter cold for several hours.  He entered a warm building and stood before a hot fire.  As the warmth of the fire soaked into the truck driver, he suddenly collapsed.  His buddies caught him and he was transported to the Spa army hospital.  After several hours of sleep and some hot food, the truck driver insisted that he be returned to his outfit. He was fearful that his Company would move on without him.  His outfit had moved to a new location but his buddy had cared for the truck driver’s belongings. 

 A venison feast was celebrated by the Cannon Company soldiers.  One of the guys shot a deer.  It was illegal to kill a deer in the Ardennes, but the shooter explained that the deer “just got in front of the bullet”.  The truck driver and his buddies with farm backgrounds properly “dressed” the deer and the cooks prepared the feast with all the trimmings. By late January the German army had been driven back to mid December positions near the Rhine River.  The Ardennes campaign was now history.  Thousands of Allied troops were killed. Thousands more were wounded, missing in action or taken prisoner.  Many of the casualties resulted from the lack of proper clothing and footwear.  The German army also suffered tremendous losses.  The superiority of the Allied forces in equipment, manpower and planes seriously depleted Hitler’s ability to wage war on two fronts.  The tide had turned in favor of the Allies. 

 But that was not the end of heavy lifting for the 75th Infantry Division.  Hitler created another breakthrough in southeast France near Strasburg.  His strategy was to divert the Allies’ attention from a possible Rhine River crossing by pushing into the Alsace-Lorraine city of Colmar near the Swiss border.   Late January found the truck driver in a long convoy of military trucks and equipment departing Belgium and heading south through France.  The convoy drove day and night, passing through the city of Nancy and over the treacherous Vosges Mountains.  Extreme driving skill—and lots of luck—was required to navigate the narrow mountainous roads while traveling under complete black out conditions. The driver’s only guide was to follow the tiny slit of blackout light from the vehicle ahead.  Deep snow-filled ravines reflected in the cold moonlight.   

 More than 72 hours of continuous driving brought the 75th Division convoy to another battlefront. The German army was deeply entrenched around Colmar.  The snow and cold of the Ardennes was replaced by deep mud.  It was now the task of the 75th and other American units to assist the French Army in driving the Germans back across the Rhine.  The Allies and French forces waged intensive, but successful, warfare for three weeks.  The invading German forces were pushed back to their homeland.  The honor of the French Army had been restored. During the Colmar campaign, the truck driver observed his gun crew buddies firing several rounds and then celebrating.  Their guns were directed to fire at a church steeple being used as an enemy observation point.  After firing five rounds, a big cheer went up.  Five direct hits!  The church steeple was obliterated.  No more snipers from that place.  The next day the Company’s cannons knocked out two enemy self propelled guns.  Being several miles from the target, the crews relied upon the reports from their “forward observer”.  The “F.O.” was positioned with the front line infantrymen to direct the fire of the cannons—at great personal risk. 

 Now that the Colmar Pocket in southeast France was eliminated, the 75th Division was ordered to “load up” and hit the road.  The convoy retraced its route back through the Vosges Mountains, back through the city of Nancy to a rest area for rehabilitation of men and equipment.  While passing through Nancy for the second time, the truck driver recalled his father being stationed there in the first War.  Ironically, they had traveled the same highways. This stop for rehab was fondly remembered by the truck driver.  A 291st Regimental Officer located a Quartermasters bath unit near Luneville, France.  A schedule arranged for the maximum number to take advantage of the showers in a short time period.  For most men, it was the first shower in many weeks.  Upon leaving the showers, the men were greeted by another amazing sight—clean clothes—the first clean clothes since mid December.  The troop’s morale was very high after this welcomed pause in the journey.  It was amazing what a shower and clean clothes could do. 

Resuming their journey, the refreshed troops of the 75th Division proceeded north through Belgium into the Netherlands.  The 291st Regiment relieved the 3rd British Parachute Brigade of their positions along the Maas River.  The Cannon Company was now in the level river valley near Horn, Holland in Limburg province.  The Maas River must be crossed before reaching the Rhine River and the German border.  A few hours after arriving in the area, the truck driver was visited by several teen age Dutch boys.  One of the boys, Manny, spoke fairly good English and proudly served as interpreter. The boys visited almost daily.  The Cannon Company troops would share food items, especially chocolate, with the teenagers.  The boys claimed to be practicing their English, in exchange for treats from the soldiers.  

Several days after arriving at the location near Horn, Manny invited the truck driver to be a guest for a meal in his Dutch home.  The truck driver received permission from his Company Officer to accept the invitation.  The Company’s head cook heard of the invitation and provided sugar, coffee and other staples to present to the Dutch hosts. The meal with Manny’s family was centered on their delicacy:   buttermilk pie.  It was an enlightening evening for the truck driver.  Manny did the translating for his parents and sister.  It was revealed that Manny’s oldest brother was conscripted into the German army in 1940.  His family had no knowledge of their son’s whereabouts or safety.  The family proudly showed a picture of their 1939 Chevrolet. That vehicle was taken from them immediately upon the 1940 German occupation of Holland.  Their only mode of transportation now was bicycle or walking.  As he thanked his hosts for a pleasant evening, Manny gave the truck driver a note with this address:  E Knopps, Ryksweg C.38, Horn, Limburg, Holland. 

The balmy, spring-like weather of Holland was appreciated by the Cannon Company troops.  Just a few weeks ago, the soldiers had been shivering in the bitter cold in neighboring Belgium.  Last week they had departed the mud and mire of Colmar in southeast France. In a few days the 291st Regiment crossed the Maas River and took up a position near the west bank of the Rhine River. The Cannon Company was assigned to occupy a farmstead in the river plain.  The farmstead consisted of a substantial barn and home, each being connected to the other. This building arrangement was very common.  A low wall surrounded the farm compound.  At least twenty cows were housed in the barn.  A huge hay loft above the barn provided an inviting space for the troops to deposit their sleeping bags.  Some of the “city” soldiers did not appreciate the smell of the cows or their gentle mooing at night.  They all agreed that sleeping above the cows was many times better than the Ardennes snow or the Colmar mud. 

News began to circulate regarding the anticipated Rhine crossing.  In preparation for possible enemy action, the farm family was ordered to vacate their premises and move to a safe area further behind the lines.  Upon being told to move, the farmer protested loudly. He refused to leave his cows. They must be milked twice daily.  No provision had been made to evacuate the cows with the family.  His protestations rang loud and clear. Sensing a solution to the milking problem, the truck driver approached his officer with a plan.  Being raised on an Illinois farm, he volunteered to milk the cows in the farmer’s absence.  The farmer reluctantly agreed to this arrangement.  Actually, he had no options.  The truck driver selected other farm guys to assist in the milking.  He drafted the city guys to operate the manual beet chopper.  This machine required considerable manpower to spin the crank to crush the beets that were the staple source of cow’s food, along with the hay.   The milking endeavor was successful.  The soldiers milked morning and evening. They were not permitted to drink the raw milk.  However the Company cooks provided tasteful meals using heated milk.

Several days passed. The Rhine crossing was completed and the German army was pushed further east.  As Cannon Company prepared to depart the farmstead, the farm family was permitted to return.  The farmer rushed into the barn, saw that his cows were in good health and had been milked properly. With tears streaming down his face, he grabbed the truck driver, gave him a heartfelt hug and kissed him on both cheeks.  The farmer’s gratitude was beyond description.  He attempted to thank the troops in broken English and with more hugs and kisses.   The truck driver knew he would always remember milking cows while in the Army.  Incidentally, several city guys tried their hand milking—but without much success.

Devastated German cities met the eyes of Cannon Company soldiers.  No citizens were seen.  The Allies encountered pockets of German resistance in the drive to the Ruhr industrial complex.  The factories and steel mills of Essen and Dusseldorf produced critical material for the German war machine. Hundreds of German soldiers were captured daily. Many appeared to be teenagers.  Others were much older—in their sixties or more.  Conscripted soldiers of many occupied nations were glad to be captured. They were aware a prisoner of war of the Allies was assured of food and shelter—much better than being a weary and starving German soldier.

By mid April, 1945, the Ruhr factories were silenced.  Thousands of German prisoners filled the Allies’ compounds.  Elements of the German army were retreating further east.  Concentration camps were discovered and liberated.  The indescribable conditions at these camps shocked the world. Another April event shocked the Allies: the death of President Franklin D. Roosevelt!  Vice President Harry Truman was now Commander in Chief. The truck driver of Cannon 14 was busy transporting food and supplies to the liberated conscripted labor camps.  Those forced laborers were taken to rail stations to be returned to their homelands.  Most did not know if their homes and families had survived the war years. The truck driver heard more earth shaking news:  Hitler committed suicide!   

May 8th, 1945–the truck driver was working on a warehouse dock. The loud speakers suddenly blared:  “Germany has surrendered!  The war in Europe is over!”

The surrender took place near Rheims, France, in the same building as the 1918 German surrender and the Armistice of the first war. The Nazi regime in Europe was history.  Now all eyes were directed to the Pacific.  When would that war end?  At what cost?

 Truck driver and narrator: PFC Frank Chambers, Cannon Company, 291st Infantry Regiment, 75th Infantry Division       

Narrator’s Notes:
The dates, places and events were derived from several sources: “75th Infantry Division, 291st Regiment After-Action Reports”–(Official secret military reports now declassified), “The 75th Infantry Division in Combat” and personal material.  Writings and books from veterans and war historians were helpful in the creation of this and previous narratives.

Back in 1943, Warren Forrest was an 18-year-old boy from Algiers who had helped support his widowed mother with a paper route …

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In 1943, the Swett family was living at 301 So. Spring Ave., La Grange, Illinois. I was 17 and graduated from LTHS in June. While a senior I had taken the A-12/V-12 “IQ” tests and passed, so was accepted into the ASTRP program to study engineering. I and friend classmate Ralph Leavitt were sent in August to the U of Wis, Madison. We were not yet 18, so were in the reserves, wearing the ROTC uniforms with blue collars. Until the next term started in Sept. we did physical exercises and marched in close order drill. Ralph and I were room mates in Kronsage Hall, along with a tall thin fellow from Centralia, 111., Bill Williams.

We marched to our first class in the morning, but were mostly on our own after arriving in the academic area. Saturdays were workdays but Sunday we were free until supper time when we were expected to show at the dining room for cold cuts, cheese, crackers and bread. After supper it was back to the books. At least once, Ralph and I went to a Congregational Church which was just south of campus. We may have made Sunday services more than once, but we were not regular attenders.

There were several other 1943 LTHS graduates in the Navy V-12 program. They were billeted not far from us and we bumped into them infrequently. Several of our high school buddies visited us one weekend, but other than these intermissions, we were very busy studying. We were told that we were taking almost twice the course load of a normal student in normal times. On weekends the student union showed foreign films. When I could I would attend these. Thinking back on these days, we did work hard but we had moments of fun and relaxation. After a few days of classes we started to sing as we marched to our first class – nothing fancy – “I’ve been working on the railroad”, “You are my Sunshine”, etc. We were in a beautiful spot next to Lake Mendota, and the campus with its hill(s) offered interesting and beneficial hiking. Madison was a good place to be with so much of the world on fire.
At the end of this first quarter, Ralph and I had both become 18, but as Bill was still 17, we had to say good-bye to him. We all went home for Christmas. After Christmas Ralph and I went to Ft. Sheridan where we took additional aptitude tests and both were assigned to the Infantry school in Ft. Benning, GA. We were told that because we were so swift, we would be taking a 13 week basic course in 10 weeks. Looking back on the history of these times, I wonder if they put us through basic in a hurry as they were planning for an invasion back up.

Ralph and I were assigned to different training companies so I didn’t see him again until our next move. On one of my first mornings at Ft. Benning I was detailed to start a morning fire in our barracks. They must have known that this city boy wouldn’t know anything about starting a wood fire in a furnace so they sent Walter A. Petersen, “Bud”, with me to show me how it was done. Bud, I was to find out later, grew up mostly in the North Woods of Wisconsin and Minnesota, with a brief period during high school years in San Francisco. His mother died when he was quite young (before San Francisco). He was the younger of two brothers with a father that was a prison guard. The San Francisco experience occurred when his father was transferred to Alcatraz. Without a mother, but an older brother. Bud was left many of the household duties, such as cooking and cleaning. His two most active hobbies were guns and cameras, about which he was very knowledgeable. Of course, he showed me how to make a furnace fire, but I was never called upon to do the task again.

Bud had been accepted by the ASTP program and had finished his basic in the group before us, but had been held back as cadre to help train our group. History indicates that the decision to terminate the ASTP program had already been made and therefore no one was being sent to colleges to study engineering. My experience in basic was good – training was hard but what we needed. I became an expert marksman with the M-l, and the machine gun, but with the slight chance we were given with the 45 cal. hand gun, I was not able to hit the broad side of a barn. With the constant exercise and good plentiful food (the breaded fried egg plant was great) I went from a 150 Ib. weakling to a 180 Ib. man of muscle. My speed and strength were tested on the obstacle coarse and along with push-ups and chin-ups of the required number (I think it was 30 each) I won the coveted Expert Infantry Man’s Badge, which increased my monthly pay from $21 to $26. We had a very little snack shop near our parade grounds in the Harmony Church area. It was here I was introduced to the Krispy-Kream donut, which I believe were $.10 for a package of two. I would go to the snack shop on our morning breaks.
In March our training was over and most of us were assigned to the 106th Div. which was still on Tennessee maneuvers. Bud and I were assigned to H Co., 423rd Reg., 3rd Platoon. Ralph was assigned to a rifle Co. in a different Battalion so I was not to see him again but only once or twice in our training with the 106th at Camp Atterbury, Ind. A few days after we landed at the Camp, the regulars came in from weeks on maneuvers, worn out, dirty – most, utterly exhausted. Their ranks had been depleted by many being sent overseas as replacements. They knew most of us were wet behind the ears, but they seemed to tolerate us fairly well.

Bud was assigned as part of a mortar crew (the 3rd Platoon of a Heavy Weapons Co. consists of 81mm mortar squads – the other two fighting platoons consist of30cal. water cooled machine gun squads). Because of my experience as a car owner and shade tree mechanic, I was assigned to the motor pool, driving the 3rd Platoon leaders Jeep. I was to see less of Lt. Thomas than the walking members of our Platoon as he always preferred to march with the troops rather than ride in his Jeep. And I was noted to be a careful driver.

Bud and I would go to Indianapolis on weekend passes, mostly to look at photographic equipment in the camera stores and to enjoy the freedom found outside the camp. Over time I became friendly with the acting company clerk, and found that he could write me a weekend pass that would allow me to go home to La Grange. While the pass was fake with a fictitious officer’s signature, I had no problems with using it until one weekend I was delayed getting back to camp because of a freight train wreck on our track. On this trip I was “lucky” to find a seat (many times on these trips to Chicago, we had to stand – once I went to sleep on the platform between cars) but it was next to a high ranking officer. He could sense that I was disturbed by our delay, so he quieted my fears by saying that we could get off at a special station where a staff car would be waiting to take us to camp. It worked out just as he had said. The entire Company was standing at reveille when the camp adjutant delivered me in his staff car. No one ever questioned my tardiness or my whereabouts. What good fortune.

We trained together as a unit from early April until early October. One 35 mile overnight march was the only physical exertion I was subjected to. We did go down to a state park south of the camp where a high pier had been constructed. We jumped off as if we were abandoning ship. For this exercise we wore full field pack and helmet but no boots. That was good as the boots would have been ruined in the water. I believe no one drowned – at least not in our Company. Another group of replacements was sent out of our units, to be replaced by people from the Air Corps and some fresh from basic training. This occurred in late August or early September. We left for Camp Miles Standish, Mass. in early October so we didn’t have time to fully integrate these new troops.

We left Miles Standish as a Regiment, and on Oct. 17, 1944, we left New York Harbor on the Queen Elizabeth, advertised as the largest and fastest ship afloat. Our trip to Scotland was zigzaggy and took five days. The food was so bad and the chow lines so long that many of us elected not to eat. We had nine soldiers and their gear in each stateroom which would be used for two people in civil peacetime.

The people of Scotland greeted us with open arms. Unfortunately we spent very little time with them as we disembarked from the Queen Elizabeth directly onto trains that took us overnight to Toddington in England. After several days there (my notable remembrance of that place was from my first view of the “Honey Dippers” in action) Bud and I were transferred to the stables behind the country estate of Batsford Park, owned by an official of the Imperial Tobacco Company. Bud was chosen because of his vast knowledge of small arms. He chose me to help him run the armory to which all the Division officers had to turn in their weapons. We had a cozy room on the second floor and slept with the guns. Bud taught me haw to play Parcheesi and I taught him Chess. After a few weeks they opened a small USO type room across the hall from us – even brought in a piano. This gave me the opportunity to play some of the pieces I had memorized over the many years of music lessons. I remember no one else taking the opportunity to use this instrument.

Bud and I were issued permanent passes with the idea we could use them as we wanted to as long as one of us was in residence at the Armory. We honored this concept for a while, each spending much time in Oxford, but as we realized we were getting close to our departure to the continent, we traveled together several times to Oxford. During our several months in England, Bud and I would go to the village dances which occurred almost every evening in the nearby town of Moreton-in-Marsh. Neither of us danced but we were entranced by several beautiful English lasses – my heart flutterer was Dorothy Church, who lived only a block away from the dance hall which stood in the middle of the main street. There was one middle aged English couple that everyone watched as they went through their tango routine. Most of the dance floor was cleared when they came out to dance.
One small incident that occurred at one of these village dances. There was a teenage English male that seemed to be at least slightly drunk. He had the idea it would be good to get Bud or me out in the dark individually. Bud and I suspected that he had some accomplices out there that thought it might be proper to do in an American soldier. Among the English “4-Fs” there was a considerable amount of hostility toward American GIs mainly due to the competition for the limited number of females. Bud and I asked him if he needed assistance and that we would both be glad to help. We went out into the air-raid proof darkness, one on each side of him. We ended up down the street and into a back ally, each of us standing on either side of him at the public urinal. Nothing more happened.

From the huge military vehicle depot, all the drivers in our company were issued new Jeeps, with a new weapons carrier for our motor pool sergeant. Bud and I had returned to Toddington by way of Cheltenham S.P.A. on November 20. After all our equipment was cleaned and organized we left in a convoy for Southhampton on Nov. 30, Bud with the other troups on trucks while I drove my new Jeep solo. When we arrived at the docks on Dec. 1, we loaded the second battalion’s vehicles on LST #344, with the drivers staying with their vehicles. The foot soldiers loaded onto troop carrier ships. For the next nine days the most unusual saga of my military carrier took place. For all intents and purposes I was in the U.S. Navy for those nine days, eating Navy chow which was the best in my two years of Army duty. As a PFC I did have some duties to perform, the only significant one that I remember at this point (2005) was guard duty on deck.

LST 344 arrived outside the harbor of Le Havre sometime early the next morning but the harbor was so crowded the we had to take a position outside, dropping anchor to await our turn at the beach or dockside. Several days later we received instructions to move up into a new position. I was on guard duty with my carbine, standing on the port side watching the weighing of the anchor. As the top of the anchor broke the surface, the last link in the chain broke, and the anchor dropped to the bottom of the English Channel. We changed our position and dropped our stem anchor in order to keep this position. This anchor held for at least a day, maybe more, but the cable gave out with a bang. I was in the fantail mess room when this happened, but I’m sure the sound reverberated so that everyone in the ship heard the report. We held our position in the area of the harbor for several days by running the engines.

The word came down to us that there was a problem with one of the engines so we were returning to Southampton. We did, and transferred all of our vehicles to another LST which had two good engines and two anchors. We left Southampton for the second time and arrived at the beach in La Havre with almost no delay. Our disembarkation and start through France was on Dec. 9, 1944.

The trip to Division location was uneventful. We stayed overnight in a French forest. There was snow on the ground. Rather than try to clear a space for my sleeping bag on the ground, I elected to sleep sitting up in the Jeep – passenger side, I recall. Waking up fairly stiff, we were back in convoy on our way to the environs of St. Vith, which is where 106^th Division headquarters was located. Breakfast had been a “K” ration — cold. We arrived in Bom either late morning or early afternoon, Dec. 10.

Because the 2^nd Battalion, 423^rd vehicles had been delayed crossing the Channel, they had put the entire Battalion in reserve, stationed mostly in Bom. I was assigned to a two story house which seemed to be fairly new. We had a number of “H” Co. troops on the second floor, none of which I can now remember so they couldn’t have been from our 3^rd Platoon – no close buddies. Bud Petersen had arrived with the foot soldiers eight or nine days before us with the troop transport 2-1/2 ton trucks. He was well settled in a farm house that was closer in toward the center of town. He had already made friends with the family that owned the house, attached barn, and livestock. He was able to get some fresh eggs and was living quite well with only minimal reliance on our Company kitchen. The “old” man of the farm had a short wave radio which was also at Bud’s service. Obviously I spent most of my free time at Bud’s place, only retiming to my billet way after dark. We were located in what was called a non-strategic area, with not much chance of combat action this close to the end of the war. We were warned that there had been encountered some German patrols in the area and that we should be careful of crossing them. I remember trudging through the snow on my way home from Bud’s place, with only a dim light and my carbine held by both hands at the ready. I don’t believe any of the civilians living on the first floor of my house were awake on my return. There were one or two of the fellows in our second floor dorm who had not yet drifted off, so lights were still on.
All went smoothly back in the reserve area. I don’t remember the field kitchen meals. They were regular but evidently not spectacular. Two facts kept us alert. Nightly the V-l rockets would go overhead on their way to England. Early on we would shoot at them with small arms fire as they seemed to be traveling at a low altitude. This was officially stopped as we were needlessly using up ammunition with no apparent affect on the V-ls. The other thing that concerned everyone (we were to learn much later, even our top officers were worried) there was noise from the movement of heavy equipment on the German side of the Ardennes. This was noticeable in the daytime but was particularly worrisome at night when it continued and was almost the only sound that could be heard. We learned later that our Division officers were told that being new to the war we were just unnecessarily jumpy. It would soon be reveled to all what had been going on in Germany.

At 5:30 on Dec. 16,1944, we were awakened by a distant rumbling and the word that we must be on our way at once as the enemy was shelling our lines with the possibility of a ground attack coming soon. I remember thinking that I would dress warmly but leave the remainder of my equipment in my duffle bag in the sleeping room on the second floor of our billeting home as we would probably be back by evening. What a mistake. I never saw any of my personal items or clothing again. The greatest loss was my Waltham watch given to me as a graduation present from High School and the silver dollar with my mother’s birth date, 1890, given to me by Dad just before I left for the service.

Our convoy stopped in St. Vith before proceeding to the front – possibly to receive detailed (?) orders. After much starting and stopping going basically east, we ended up well east of Schonberg and near Bleiauf pulling in between an artillery battalion and the Germans at a very late time in the night. Our mission was to hold off the enemy until the artillery people could extract their pieces and move them toward the rear. Research would probably give me this units name but at that time all we knew was that it’s personnel was black (negro) and that we had a job to do. It was after midnight before all but one 155mm were removed. The one piece not removed was too mired in the mud to get out.

The remainder of that night and much of the next two and one half days and two nights is a blur in my memory, with some notable events standing out but I am unable to place them in a firm order. The problem of retaining precise memories is at least partly due to the weather – it was constantly raining, sleeting or snowing with always low visibility — probably less than a quarter of a mile. There was no sun to guide us and we lowly privates had no compasses. We were instructed who to follow in a convoy, or given instructions for short one or two road trips. Some of the events I do remember were: The road from “Purple Heart Comers” to Auw was along a ridge and open on the side facing the enemy. It was down hill and open on the German side and open fields. On our side (still in Germany) also went down hill but there was the cover of a forest only a few hundred feet below the ridge. Our motor pool sergeant Jacob Antonovich thought we should be down near the trees in what turned out to be a very soft muddy field. All of our vehicles had to be winched out of the mud. Sarg’s weapons carrier may have been the only one that moved out on its own power. It was a good thing that we didn’t have an emergency evacuation.

Another exciting event took place on what road I don’t remember, but we were in convoy, stop and go, when a plane flew over strafing the vehicles. I was right behind a truck carrying ammunition which must have been hit as it started to smoke. Both vehicles in front and back of me were very close, leaving no room to turn around or turn onto the shoulder. My thought was to remove myself from the scene of a gigantic explosion. I jumped out of my Jeep and hopped on a six wheeled armored truck going in the opposite direction. It took me back to our Company H. The truck never exploded and I still feel it was Lloyd Diehl who retrieved my Jeep for me.

When we were together as a platoon in the forest and near the Engineer’s Cutoff, several German prisoners were brought to our area. They had been separated and one was being interrogated, so we had a good chance to observe the one we were guarding. He appeared to be very young, perhaps 14 or 15 years old. He had a deep vertical slice in his back, perhaps 12 inches long and down to his rib cage. He had been given a cigarette and seemed to be unconcerned about his condition. Probably he was in a state of shock. He had evidently been treated by a medic as the wound seemed clean and free of fresh blood. These were events that I saw first hand, I heard many other stories from buddies that were very interesting, but I do not intend to include in this bio. any events that I can not verify by my own observations.
The sharpest memory still with me after all these years (I am now almost 82, and this all took place over 60 years ago) are the events that took place on the evening of December 18, and the day of the 19^th, the day we were surrendered. As it was getting dark, we received orders to form up our vehicles on the Engineer Cutoff to attempt a run down the Bleiauf/Schonberg road in order to make a breakthrough to the 3^rd Battalion, giving us a better chance to fight our way through the encirclement and work our way back through Schonberg and hopefully, back to St. Vim. All 2^nd Battalion vehicles were lined up ready to go as darkness fell. As it was almost pitch black we shoved off to drive as fast as we could down the enemy held road. At comers many of our captured field pieces were pointing down the road directly at us. I must have been near the front of the line, as nearly as I made out my jeep wasn’t hit by enemy or friendly fire. Ken Smith claimed to be riding on my ammunition trailer, but was thrown off on a comer before we reached 3^rd Battalion on a hill just outside Schonberg. I was stopped by 3^rd Battalion personnel and told to dump my jeep in the river as the Germans were on the low side of the road and occupied Schonberg. After detaching my trailer which had some 81mm mortar ammunition in it, I drove to the right and down to the river, and as best I could determine in the dark, dropped off the bank and buried the radiator in the river bank. After doing this I was told that the Germans held the river also.

Going back up the hill I fell into a large hole. I went down so suddenly that I fell out from underneath my helmet. For what seemed like many minuets, I felt around for it. I could not locate it, so climbed out of the hole and went up the hill and laid down. It was drizzling, cold and damp. I hadn’t slept in three nights so didn’t much care where I slept or under what conditions. This was a deeply forested area. The shells from the German 88’s were exploding in the trees above us. I got some sleep this night but several stray pieces of shrapnel from the 88’s hit my face and hands (wrist), caused some bleeding of surface wounds, but didn’t cause me to lose much sleep. I was bone tiered and didn’t much care at that point if the enemy got a direct hit on me.

The next morning, December 19, we had no meal (most of us hadn’t eaten since dinner on Dec. 15) but went to work defending our hill. I soon discovered that only two of our Battalion vehicles made it through the intense fire on the German held Bleiaulf 7Schonberg road on the previous evening. The other vehicle was an “H” company headquarters jeep driven by Ramey Boetcher. Days, months and years later I learned many of the stories of the demise of the other unfortunate vehicles, how they were shot up, went off the road, missed turns and some were captured. God must have had future plans for me as he guided me safely down that road.
I spent the morning hauling 81mm mortar rounds up the hill from my trailer to the one 3^rd Battalion mortar which had been set up in a clearing over the crest of the hill. During the day, someone noticed my lack of helmet and gave me one that had a bullet hole right through the side. I was told its previous owner had no further use for it. As I was carrying mortar shells up and over the hill, there was a tall lean fellow digging himself a foxhole just to the right of my path and near the forward side of the hill. When he finished his hole he got into it and nothing could pry him loose. As I passed him for more than an hour as he was digging. (Years later at a Division reunion I was telling this story to other members of”H” Co, 423^rd, and Ramey admitted he had been the one who had dug his hole and wouldn’t be moved out. He said, “I was going to stay out of the way of those 88’s”)

At approximately 3:30PM, we were out of ammunition, had been for some time. A loud speaker came up from the base of the hill, and a voice with no trace of German accent said, “Your officers have surrendered you. Come down off the hill and form up on the road.” This was repeated a number of times and the lack of firing of any kind (very quiet) indicated this was probably the end of the war for the 3^rd Battalion. (Later we were to learn that it wasn’t only the 3^rd Battalion, 423^rd, that had been surrendered, but our commanding officers Col. George L Descheneaux of the 422^nd, and Col. Charles C. Cavender of the 423^rd, had indeed surrendered our two regiments.) When the truth of the situation sunk in, I had the immediate job of taking my hand weapons apart and throwing their parts as far as I could into the forest. I could see troops already forming up on the road as I came down the hill.

As I came onto the Bleialf/Schonberg Road, I noticed a headless GI lying in the ditch. His body was the shape and size of one of our husky privates. Later I learned our husky private had survived and was in fine shape. Ramey’s jeep was still sitting in the middle of the road and Sgt. Webb was sitting upright in the back seat, dead. The motor was still running. Soldiers I didn’t know, brought a badly wounded fellow dragging between them. They set him on the far side of the ditch, gave him a cigarette, he took several puffs and died. We were surrendered to an SS troop, and while nothing was said, many of us recently free soldiers may have had some worries as to how they would treat us. Evidently, the German officer in charge knew or felt the war was almost over, or perhaps he was one of the few SS officers who was more humane than what we had been led to believe, we will never know which, but we were not treated badly. His troops lined us up on the road and after a half hour or so, we were marched the six or eight miles to Bleialf. It was just getting dark when we arrived in Bleialf. We slept in the church yard that night (Dec. 19). I still had my heavy GI overcoat, but it was cold and damp and as we had no food for several days and little or no sleep since Dec. 16,1 was all set up for one of my winter colds.
On the morning of Dec. 20, we were lined up on the road opposite to the one on which we had arrived the previous evening, ready for the 25-30 mile march to Gerolstein. Still no food. By this time Bud Petersen and I had been reunited and we marched together on our way to the rail junction at Gerolstein. Four or five miles from the start of our march we entered to city of Prum. Other than the central church, every other building had been reduced to rubble. For me it was a very depressing sight. This was really the first physical affects of war that most of us had witnessed – bricks and stones piled haphazardly and flowing into the street.

We had yet many miles to go, marching until dark, arriving in Gerolstein an hour or so after sunset. I remember little of the details of this march as I had awakened that morning with a raging fever. I kept throwing my coat off, Bud kept picking it up and putting it back on me or carried it himself. This probably was a life saver for me. I will always feel I owe Bud more than I can ever repay. We slept on the soiled ground at the bottom of a sheep shed that night. We did have a roof over our heads, however. Still no food.

The next morning (Dec 21) they say we had some thing to eat, maybe so but I have no memory of what it might have been. Sometime during the morning we boarded a string of 40/8 boxcars. These are small cars and it was very possible we had more than forty prisoners on each car. We had a can to use as a latrine and an open window (very small covered with barbed wire) to facilitate the release of deposits. The can was used very little – nothing going in so nothing coming out. We had received no food or liquids for days.

Our train’s progress was very intermittent – stop and go. We never knew where we were at any time but learned much later (mostly after we returned home) some of the high points of this trip. We were in the same boxcar from the morning of Dec. 21, until the morning of Dec.25, never being let out or offered food or drink. We tried to sleep but there wasn’t enough room for all of us to sit down, much less all lie down at once. The biggest excitement to occur on this short-distance-long-time trip happened in the Koblenz rail yard the night of Dec. 23/24. British Mosquito light bombers bombed the rail yard extensively. One soldier in a nearby car was shouting at the top of his lungs to God for deliverance. I shouted back that God could hear us without shouting. Several cars were hit with some injuries and deaths, but our car wasn’t touched. The rail yard just to the east of us in Limberg must have been the British main target that night as their casualty rate was much higher and the tracks were so disrupted we never saw the prison camp there to which the Germans originally intended for our train load.

Sometime early in the morning of Dec. 25, Christmas Day, before daylight, our train stopped. We had arrived in Bad Orb. As soon as their was any light from the dawn, we could see a few scattered German officers standing and walking on the platform. They were dressed in natty uniforms all in light pastel colors. At this time we didn’t know where we were. As soon as it was fully light, we were let out of our boxcars and lined up in a nearby street in columns of four. The Germans soon had us organized and we were marched up the town’s main street, up the hill, approximately one and one half miles, to our new home, Stamlager IX-B, or for short, Stalag IX-B. We were the first Americans to arrive at this camp.

INTERNMENT: Much has been written about These German POW camps so I will only include the high points as I was impressed. This memoir was started in another century, and it is now (2010 AD) 65 years since these events took place.

The camp was not too full upon our arrival. It had been used to house combatants that were not fully covered by the rules of the Geneva Convention. There were Russians and other Eastern Europeans soldiers as well as French underground fighters. The French seemed to be in charge of the kitchens which turned out to be not a great benefit to us Americans. After a few weeks this was changed and we took over our own kitchen. Our daily diet consisted of a cup of ersatz coffee in the morning, a piece of bread along with some margarine (sometimes) with a ladle of very weak soup for lunch, and some kind of tea for supper. I weighed 180 Ibs. going into the camp. Three and one/half months later I was down to 105 Ibs. In our last month and one/half, we received four Red Cross boxes. Each box was distributed to so many inmates (the first went to 11, the second to 13, the last two to 5 and 6) that they were not noticeable in staving off starvation. These individual boxes were sized for one person, or two at the most.

Our (Bud Petersen and I) first barracks was quite large with two large rooms on either end for sleeping in triple bunks, and a wash room with a cold water tap in the buildings center. Each large sleeping room had a hole in the floor for nighttime toilet use. During the day we were to use a large pit outdoors which had an A frame built over it with horizontal poles running down each side. If you had to defecate you would back up to one of these poles so you were sitting over the pit. This was all open air, no sides, no floor, no roof. Fortunately with not much in the way of solids going in, this pit got little else but urine.

After three or four weeks, with more prisoners coming in (Americans, British, South Africans, Australians) our squad, including Bud and I, were moved to a smaller barracks which had no bunks, so we slept on the floor. We shared blankets so that we could have one under us and one over. The blankets were never cleaned and as we never received a clean change of clothes or had no shower for at least three months, we lived in a total condition of filth and stink. I found that my personal biggest problem was the growing colony of lice in my pants and underwear. When this problem became unbearable we would take off our clothes and search out the little critters, ending our misery by popping the guts out of them. That must have ended their misery also.

The division of the bread each day was a special ritual. We had eight or nine in our squad and either Walter A. (Bud) Petersen volunteered to be the bread cutter (squad leader) or we elected him. Every day he cut the bread into equal(?) portions and he was the last to have a choice, – he took what was left. No one ever questioned his work as he did such a fine job. On his grave stone in northern Wisconsin is engraved, “He cut the bread fair and square”. There was not much to occupy our time, and as bread was the only solid food we received each day. Bud had the most important job in the squad.

I had a piece of sheet steel about seven inches long that I had sharpened on a stone. This was my knife and after I received my bread I would spend at least an hour, generally more time than this, to cut my bread into minute pieces. Then I would spend almost as much time eating the pieces one by one. Other time occupiers for me was reading. I must have read the New Testament at least twice and a history of the de Medici family by some English author. This book was loaned to us by some English suppliers to the Red Cross. The book was informative but very poorly written and boring. As our energy levels continued to fail, there was less that we wanted to do and less that we could. The Germans early on tried to give us small tasks but even they became undoable as our abilities ebbed.

There were three or four substantial stone buildings just down the slope from our main gate. Bud and I were given the job of carrying arm loads of wood down to these units which were being used to house wounded German soldiers being rehabilitated. Between loads, Bud and I stood side by side between two of these buildings, looking down into the woods below us. We had no guards with us. We discussed the possibility of escaping into the forest. Our tracks in the snow would have been a great path for our captures. We decided it would be a worthless endeavor, – a bad idea.

Later in our stay, we were told that there was a real chance that we would be bombed by our own air force, and that we should help in digging bomb shelters. By this time I was so weak that I couldn’t lift the shovel from the bottom of the hole to its top edge. Our guards soon gave up on this project. The only brutality that I witnessed happened soon after we arrived at Bad Orb. I think it happened the day after our arrival. Dec. 26, 1944. Upon being interrogated those of us who refused to give anything other than our name, rank and serial number (all that we should have been required according to the Geneva Convention) a group of 40 to50 of us were stood at attention outside in the snow without coats or hats. One of our group who had been injured in his hand, put the bandaged hand inside his shirt front in an effort to suspend it and keep it warm. A guard saw that this wounded soldier was strictly not at attention, so in walking past he grabbed the soldier’s hand ,• pulled it out and hit it with the handle of his pistol. Some in that group of Americans said we stood out there in the cold three hours. I think it may have been more like one hour. There were penalties meted out for infractions of the rules but nothing that seemed unfair.

Conversations revolved about food. When you are starving you don’t think of anything other than eating. I was able to save a small address book in which I recorded important events as they happened, and FOOD. I have a list of every candy bar that anyone could think of, some that I had never heard of. It also included favorite recopies. The southerners in our group, and we had many, invariably included peanuts in their favorites.

Some couldn’t give up smoking. It was more important to some than food. These folks would trade food, money, anything for smokes. Of course most of these people died of malnutrition a month or two after arriving in the camp. Cigarettes eventually became the camps monetary medium of exchange, each cigarette being valued as $5.00, and $5.00 was worth then what is worth $20.00 or more today (2010 AD).

Easter came on April 1, 1945, April fools day. Early on April 2, a light armored contingent from Patton’s Third Army, “broke down the front gate”, representing our liberation. I was too weak to go out and welcome them. Our liberators brought us plenty of food, but the wrong kind – too rich. Those of us who could eat the new rations developed diarrhea, and were soon back on our old prison diet. The Red Cross brought in one of their donut trailers. One of our number who thought he had a cast iron stomach went over to the trailer and reportedly ate a dozen. He died shortly thereafter. Why would the RC allow him to eat all those donuts? I was too weak to make it over to the RC trailer.

Before liberation, George Thompson was enjoying the spring weather and laid down on a slope to contemplate his world. George developed a grand case of pneumonia and Bud and I placed him between us on the barracks floor so we could keep him covered during the night. This worked out (not very well) for only two or three nights and then George was taken to our dispensary, which was staffed by several medics, Don Candy, a neighbor from LaGrange being one, and perhaps an American doctor. Anyway, George died on April 1, 1945. We had his funeral on April 4, with Bud and I leading the honor guard. A movie of this funeral procession and the grave side burial was taken by some officer and I have a grainy copy of it. I still can’t reason how I had enough energy to walk the quarter mile out to the cemetery and back. By this time reporters from the “Stars & Stripes” and other publications were swarming over the camp so Bud and I had numerous photos all over the world.

After almost a week after liberation, it seemed that transportation would soon be organized to get us out of Stalag IX-B. One morning, about this time, they set up sick call and several members of our squad thought! should go and find out the source of my constant cough. So I did – walking pneumonia. That same morning I was taken to a nearby air field and transported by C-47 to a field near Camp Lucky Strike in northern coastal France. I was at once placed in the camp hospital for “rest and rehabilitation”. The food was wonderful. Soon my stomach had adapted to steaks and other great American treats. After a month in this hospital, during which time FDR died, I was offered a pass to Paris, but was told I might miss the first ship home if I took it. No sir, I wasn’t going to chance missing that first ship.

The hospital ship was a converted Liberty ship, the SS Marine Devil. We had only approximately half the maximum number of patients the ship had been designed for, so the kitchen was not overworked. I can remember having as many as six custom fried eggs for breakfast, many of the candy bars we had talked about in Bad Orb, and of course, many steaks. It took us two weeks to get from Southhampton to Boston, during which time the war in Europe was officially over. I took a train to Chicago and another one to LaGrange and home to 301 So Spring.

After a very eventful 90 days at home on R&R, I went to Miami Beach for reassignment. That was a pleasant week with not much to do but visit relatives and swim in the hotel (White House) pool. I didn’t yet have enough points to allow me to be discharged (the war with Japan was over by this time) but the reassignment clerk said he would send me anywhere I might want to go, except the Air Force, as there was already way too many people in the AF and they couldn’t let them out fast enough. I chose to go to the Engineers as that profession was what I had decided on and that is what the Army had staifed me on in the ASTP at the U of Wis. They sent me to Ft. Belvoir, the Army Engineers school, which is just outside Washington, DC. I had a varied experience here on the cadre under the direction of a tech sergeant that was old enough to be my father. At this time I had received my second stripe so I expected all the privileges of a noncommissioned officer. However they were short of privates on base, so corporals had to pull KP. But in the two months there, my name never came up for KP duty. I worked with a survey crew laying out the lines for a new drill field, became a projectionist, was taught to instruct in laying booby traps and demolition explosives, as well as making signs advertising my bosses girlfriend who was singing in a Washington club.

I left for home and discharge in late November. My boss took me to the Non-Com club on base and bought me my first drink. I was just 20.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was a replacement the day after Christmas. I was made a machine gunner, 30 caliber liquid cooled. Four days later, on New Year’s Eve, the Germans attacked. They were all dressed in white. This was my first introduction to combat, and it was the Battle of the Bulge. We did not lose one inch of territory, but the Germans lost plenty. We recaptured the Maginot Line, crossed the Iller River, the Danube and the Rhine.

We were crossing the Iller River when the Germans sent in an armor piercing shell that landed about 20 feet from our assault boat. Our boat capsized and I had to swim in the icy water to the German side. It was so cold that if I took off my pants they would have stood up by themselves. Later that night, the engineers, with the help of a tank, put a tree across a blown out bridge two miles down from where we were. Some riflemen came and got us. Then we had to inch across the tree using our arms and legs, holding on for dear life until we reached our side again. I was immediately taken to a field hospital for about ten days. While in the hospital, our battalion was caught in the Fern Pass in the Alps, and we lost half our men.

When I got out of the hospital, I rejoined my company in the Brenner Pass. We went into Italy and linked up with the 10th Mountain Division, which ended the war for us. We were then told to go to Otz, Austria, until we were sent home. We were scheduled to go to Japan for the invasion there, but the atomic bomb was dropped, thus ending the war. The 44th Division was de-activated and I was discharged.

Joe’s citation for his Bronze Star

 

OFFICE OF THE COMMANDING GENERAL
44th INFANTRY DIVISION
CAMP CHAFFE, ARKANSAS

17 NOVEMBER 1945

 GENERAL ORDER
NUMBER            65

SUBJECT:  AWARD OF BRONZE STAR MEDAL
CITATION:  PFC JOSEPH A. MINTO     31469604

On the 15th of February 1945 in the vicinity of Remeling, France the 71st Inf. of the 44th division attacked the strongly fortified town of Remeling.  M Co. was to be the leading Co in the attack. During the first hour of the attack M Co was held up by four German Royal Tiger tanks. It was at this time that Pfc. Jos. Minto, a machine gunner of M Co abandoned his machine gun temporarily and picked up the bazooka of a fallen comrade. Crawling forward under the intense fire from the 88’s and machine guns of four German tanks Pfc. Jos. Minto at great personal risk worked himself into a favorable position and open up on the four Tiger tanks with his bazooka. After 10 minutes of concentrated bazooka fire three of the German tanks were knocked out and the fourth was forced to withdraw. It was then that M Co could resume its advance and Pfc. Jos. Minto could return to his beloved machine gun which he had sentimentally named “Hun Killer”

But his gallantry was not to end, for three hours later that morning after half of Remeling had been taken by the 71st Inf. the Germans launched a strong counterattack. It was during this counterattack that Pfc. Jos. Minto disregarding all personal safety mounted his gun on the roof of the city hall where he was exposed to all enemy fire but where are all the enemy was exposed to his fire. It was here that Pfc. Jos. Minto broke up the enemy counterattack by killing 78 Germans and wounding almost 100 more. It is men like Pfc. Jos. A. Minto who stand out in the annals of the United States Army and who are a tribute to their army and country.

 By Order of Lt. General Reese

 Commanding Gen. 44th Inf. Div.

 CR/JD

My father enlisted in the U.S. Army at 17 and lied about his age so that he’d be accepted. Like many sons and daughters of military personnel, I rarely had the opportunity to discuss my father’s World War II duties, experiences or exploits with him, and when he passed away in late November 2001, there were many unanswered questions about the wound he suffered to his knee, the photos of concentration camps he tucked away in a shoebox in his closet and the medals he received while serving our country for a brief time in 1944 and 1945.

Click here to read the article written by Carl Danbury, which appeared in the June 2010 issue of the Points North Magazine, Atlanta, GA

A Side Bar. I note in my photo album that on Dec. 15 a USO troupe headed by comedian Frank McHugh put on a performance for the 2^nd Armored Div. troops. The next day things would change rapidly.

Dec. 16 – Morning Staff Meeting. The Corps G2 opened the meeting and quickly reported that a major German attack had begun during the night. Gen McLain probed the G3 and G2 officers as to the status of our three divisions and locations. Our line was quite thin, covering many miles of front…. The G2 officer said that he had just gotten a report that a German plane with American markings had just been shot down. The German soldiers in it were wearing American uniforms…. I remember, I think it was the G3 officer, telling us that the day’s password would be changed every two hours. Everyone had better know who won the World Series last year, etc.

As the meeting was ending, I remember Gen. McLain saying something to the effect that he would never be taken alive. That was something to have your general make such a startling pronouncement. It was to be a fight to the death. That really hit me as to how serious the situation was. As the meeting closed, Gen. McLain said he wanted to see me. He ordered me to get a photographer and go immediately to the downed plane and get pictures that might be needed at some future time.

Skipping breakfast, I took a still and a movie man.  In less than half an hour we were at the downed plane with American markings.  Dead Germans lay in and around the plane.  I went up to one dressed in American uniform.  His jacket was partly unbuttoned.  I saw something in his shirt pocket, a picture of a girl.  On the back was her name and Heerlen, Holland.  The Germans expected to be in Heerlen that day.  The Germans had done a masterful job in disguising their troops.We had trouble with our cameras being so cold the oil in them stiffened and slowed the shutter speed on both movie and still cameras. Many of our troops were not equipped for 10 below zero.

Another picture in the album is of my weapons carrier (like a Ford pickuptruck only built sturdier) that I had named Sweet Sue. What a coincidence. Four years later I married Mabeth Sue Stewart, whom I lovingly call Sweet Sue. There’s more of a story behind that from my 1937 trip to Holland to attend  Fifth International Boy Scout Jamboree. When we were enroute and stayed a couple of days in Brussels, Belgium, one Sunday afternoon in our hotel where the orchestra was playing dinner music, an American tourist girl requested that the orchestra play Sweet Sue. It broke up the dining room of staid Belgium diners. Also it made an impact on me, a 17-year-old Boy Scout. Hence Sweet Sue has had a special place in my memory.

January 2010. A World War II buff, in going thru my photo album, saw a Jan. 31, 1945 picture of me in Sweet Sue going by the destroyed town of Houffalize, Belgium with the battered town sign in the background. He called that picture a classic. Earlier I had actually stayed one night in the little hotel in Houffalize before Dec. 16 but now wanted to see how badly the town had been hit during the battle.

Submitted by Gary D., Associate member who attended the Battle of the Bulge Veterans Reunion in Columbus Georgia,  Sept 2011. I was searching for members that were in the 535th AAA Battery D. We went because earlier this year I found a diary from a solider from the 535th AAA  Btry D. I had it out for display as the Corporal was in the Battle of the Bulge.  I am copying the daily logs from the Battle of the Bulge for everyone to read. The diary has hand drawn maps pictures, and more. I plan on getting the diary printed. Both of my grandmothers were French. My paternal Grandma was a war bride marrying a US solider. She was from the village Avaux sur Aisne.

The Diary of John Rafalik, 535th AAA, Battery D

6 June 1944 trip across channel rather quiet broken only by two submarine alerts. depth charges were dropped and we proceeded on towards the coast. at 0800prepared to disembark. final inspection of packs, equipment. ship struck a mine at 0750stern has been badly hit and she is afire amid-ship. 0840 left ship for British destroyer escort. transport is already awash and burning fiercely. many are still left on board.Susan B Anthony rolls over and goes down at 0932 hours left destroyer for landing craft hit the beach sugar red at 1235 minus equipment and rifles. Picket up and used German equipment.dug foxholes 200 yards from beach. enemy artillery fire was very light. ME 109’s were over staffing the area a number were shot down. P47 dive bombed German positions 1000 yards to our right violent explosions resulted. Enemy was over at intervals during the night. snipers were active and paratroopers were reported in the area.Heavy and small arms fire went on all night. 88’s sank a number of ships in the anchor area. Mine fields were very heavy and were many casualties. the navy pounded away at German positions steadily throughout the twenty four hour period

13th dec Heavy concentrations of artillery fire, no air action.

14th dec Krinkelt bombed at 1300 hours, artillery fire continued, no air activity

15th dec 1944 Little of note recons over, artillery fire was light.

16th dec. Enemy artillery fire began at 430 hours continuing all day. Damage was extensive, artillery action was violent.

17th dec. Enemy attack was launched with heavy air and tank support (SS). Intense artillery preparation preceded the assault. General withdrawal began about 1600 as enemy columns broke through. Went into anti-tank positions. Casualties were heavy. Retreat began at 1700 hours, general withdrawal all along the lines.

‎18 dec 1944 regrouped much material lost set up in new positions with 370th FA A battery at camp Elsenborn. Enemy artillery fire was very heavy all day

19 dec 1944 enemy drive continues artillery fire was particularly heavy all day 16 fw 190’s over at 1700 4 downed

20 dec heavy artillery action all day many hostiles were over

‎21 dec 1944 inclement weather no air action artillery fire continues
22 dec 1944 bad weather again enemy artillery fire continues
23 dec 1944 enemy aircraft were over heavy artillery fire continues some bombs fell in the area

‎24 dec 1944 clear weather heavy concentrations of our bombers were over German flak was heavy a number of our aircraft were shot down. P47 strafed our position today.German aircraft were up in strength over our sector

‎25 dec 1944 large scale air activity by both sides two me 109 were destroyed at 1100 today me 262 and fw190 were over night activity by the germans was reported bed check charley was over at intervals heavy counter battery fire

26 Dec 1944 Continuing air assaults numerous German aircraft up. V1’s and 2’s were over P47machine guns the positions.

27 Dec 1944 Air assaults continue a number of me 109’s over at 1045 three were destroyed. P47 ‘s dive bombed field artillery positions at 1500. Counter Battery fire was heavy.
28 Dec 1944 Heavy German artillery fire. section received two near misses. 50 Cal was knocked out. Enemy aircraft were over during the night.

29 Dec 1944 Enemy aircraft were over , artillery exchanges were sharp.

30 Dec 1944 Enemy aircraft were over at intervals bombing field artillery installations. Heavy artillery fire continued.

31 Dec 1944 two me 262 over at 1100 hours bombed artillery positions. artillery fire was heavy on both sides.

1 Jan 1945 German aircraft were up in strength a a number of ME’s 109 were over at 0835,0850,0910. seven were shot down. Heavy counter battery fire though out the 24hr period

2nd. Bomber and fighter formations were over. numerous German aircraft were up through out the 24 hour period. heavy artillery duals continued.

3rd. Inclement weather single FW 190 over at 1420, FA bombed.

4th. Bad weather prevails bomber formations were over at 1200, 1300-1340 hours. 88mm air burst overhead.

5th. Inclement weather restricted air activity. two p47’s strafed our positions at camp Elsenborn.

6th. Low ceiling again. Hostile aircraft were over during the night. Artillery action was light to medium.

7th. ME 262 over at 1225 hours , bombed 1st division 105’s. Artillery action continued as before.

8th Little of note, continuing artillery action V-1s were over

9th Inclement weather held activity to a virtual stand still

10th Little of consequence. no major action to speak of

11th. Increased counter battery fire, a number of bombers were over

12th. There was heavy artillery coupled with intense small arms fire. German patrols were active.

13th. Four FW 190’s were over at 1407. Intense 88 fire towards Elsenborn. Air activity was increased somewhat.

14th. Inclement weather. two ME 109’s over at 1534 hours.

15th. Bombers and fighters formations over. P38’s bombed enemy installations one mile east. Artillery exchanges continued.

16th. Increased air activity., two MK seven Spits down at 1548, 1615.

17th. Counter battery fire increased during morning hours. Flying bombs over at various intervals.

18th. Driving snowstorm. V bombs were over. Incoming mail was of large caliber 170 or 210mm.

19th Weather again restricting most activity.

20th. Inclement weather. nothing but artillery fire and v bombs.

21th. Enemy aircraft were over at intervals. artillery was limited to harassing fire. V bombs were over

22nd. P47 down at 1010 hours . Heavy aerial activity and an increase in counter battery fire. 2130 V bombs over

23rd. Relatively quiet. Light artillery exchanges.

24th. Light 88 fire, heavy machine gun fire to the east.

25th Nothing of note, sporadic artillery fire

26th. inclement weather, a few fighter bombers were over

On the morning of 16 December, the well-orchestrated German attack in the Ardennes “Wacht am Rhein” was launched.   The name was a subterfuge to hide their offensive intentions behind a pretended defense. Hitler suspected a security leak within his Wehrmacht and so he limited disclosures of the attack plans to his most trusted generals.  He was unaware that the British had broken his Enigma Code, even though some of his advisors had suggested that this may have happened–“Impossible” said der Fuehrer! There were so few radio intercepts concerning the upcoming Ardennes offensive that our top level commanders were caught off guard—even though many of us at lower levels were antsy about all of the enemy activity in the Ardennes.  In general, the Wehrmacht followed the mandated radio secrecy  orders,  but  there  were  enough  slip-ups  by  their  air  force  and  civilian transportation units to have given our commanders sufficient insight had they not been so overconfident. About then, we heard that Glenn Miller had been lost in the English Channel on 15 December—a sad, sad day! About 10 December 1944, as a nervous .tag-along-member of a six man patrol from the 38^th Cavalry Squadron—forward of the front near Bullingen and east of Malmedy—we found plenty of German activity across the bottom of a tree-filled canyon. Trees were being cut down with saws and axes, and tanks and other heavy motorized equipment were moving around over straw covered trails, to muffle their sounds.  While watching this activity from a concealed position two hundred yards away across the canyon, we listened to the big tank engines and sensed that “something unusual was afoot”. On our return the cavalry troopers used pull-igniters to anti-personnel three Tellermines left by a German patrol that was chased off the previous night, while attempting to infiltrate their lines.  Several enemy were killed when they tried to reclaim those mines.

When  information  regarding  all  of  this  German  activity  was  sent  to  higher headquarters, their response was that this was only a feint to trick us into pulling our troops away from our planned offensive in the Hurtgen Forest near Schmidt.  If it had not been so serious, an almost comical ploy at that time was our leaders attempt to enhance our apparent troop strength in this area of the Ardennes to draw more Germans troops from the front further north at Aachen. They conjured up a non-existent infantry division to further promote that deception (HEARD, But NOT VERIFIED).

As a result, our high-level commanders were not suspicious when the Germans began bringing in more and more troops prior to the Bulge–this is exactly what our leaders had hoped—and they happily believed that their scheme was working to perfection.  There surely were more than a few red faces at the higher headquarters when the axe finally fell!  We at the lower levels were unaware of these machinations, but were kept on edge by all of the rumors that were floating around. My 3rd Platoon; B-Co, had laid AT mines along the road shoulders near Bullingen a few weeks earlier, but that was probably done to deter small-scale penetrations or counterattacks.  Bullingen was on the route taken by Kampgruppe Peiper and was where his force captured a large quantity of American gasoline before heading west through Malmedy towards the Meuse River

Our 146th Engineer Combat Battalion was bivouacked at Mutzenich Junction, three miles west of the front at Monschau–which was at the northern shoulder of the German build-up. Captain Arthur Hill–H & S Company commander; CWO Wm Langhurst–Assistant S-l; and CWO Al Sarrach–Assistant Motor Officer; dropped in at their favorite Malmedy restaurant on 16 December for dinner. This was the first day of the Bulge and the situation had not yet been sorted out.  It was still being viewed by higher headquarters as a limited action to offset- the pressure of our attacks further north near Aachen. The restaurant- owner had just gotten in fresh steaks that afternoon so they all ordered steak. While waiting to be served, the owner requested that they move their jeep around to the rear so that the German soldiers who had seen in the vicinity would not shoot up his establishment. They complied, polished off their steaks in a hurry and then took off in a high lope for the bat talion about fifteen miles northeast.  This was a smart move, as Malmedy was on the proposed route of Kampfgruppe Peiper!

At 1520 hours 16 Dec, V-Corp’s Colonel Pattilio called Major Willard Baker our S-3 and ordered 146ECB to immediately furnish a company of engineers to serve as infantry; to be attached to the 38th Cavalry Squadron at Monschau.  A-company was in the Line at 1700 that evening, where they furnished support  for the outnumbered troopers. The 38th Cavalry was at the northern flank of the Bulge and just north of the 3rd Battalion, 395th Regiment, 99th Infantry Division–who managed to hold their ground even though the remainder of the division was badly chewed up, and much of their command was shifted to the 2nd Infantry Division.

The aggressive patrolling of the 38th Cavalry Squadron was a key element in their defense of the Monschau area during the Bulge, when they repulsed a number of attacks by vastly superior German forces. Their aggressive patrolling allowed them to establish the likely enemy avenues of approach, while keeping the Germans from coming close enough to determine the cavalry’s defensive positions. While I occasionally had patrolled in areas forward of our front lines, I had never patrolled with the audacity of these 38^th Cavalry troopers. They were fearless and not at all concerned about bumping into the enemy–in fact they may have welcomed the opportunity!

For several days this small force; plus 3rd Platoon, A-Co, 112ECB and attached 105mm and 155mm artillery, fought off several attacks by vastly superior enemy forces.  Several times they called in artillery on their positions to thwart the attacks. Canister rounds (a cannoneer’s shotgun) were used with devastating effect when they were about to be overrun. For their stout defense,  all three units were awarded the Presidential Unit Citation–the nation’s highest unit award. According to “Cavalry on the Shoulder”, the 38^th Cavalry was the only cavalry squadron to be so honored in WWII. The 146th Engineer Combat Battalion had received a Presidential Unit Citation for D-Day on Omaha Beach, so this added an oak leaf cluster to A-Company’s PUC.

At 1525 Hours on 16 December, Colonel McDonough—the commander of the 1121 Engineer Combat Group—called our headquarters and ordered another engineer company to be deployed as infantry. The three B-Company platoons moved into position the next morning, and for several days formed a barrier line, a short distance behind the front between Monschau and Elsenborn. Our purpose was to slow the advance of the 6th Panzer Army, should they manage to penetrate our lines.  The 3rd Platoon covered a 600 yard front in the snow, until relieved on 23 December.  We set up three machine guns in defensive positions and patrolled between them, but being in a semi-wooded area we had inadequate fields of fire and would have been captured or bypassed by any determined enemy attack in force.  Sylvin Keck manned a daisy-chain roadblock that was located on a nearby road.  These are AT mines roped together, so they can be pulled across the road at the approach of enemy vehicles;  but they are not effective unless adequately supported by covering fire. Several trees had explosives rigged to drop them and form an abatis on a nearby road.

While on outpost duty, the 3rd Platoon had no clue as to the German’s intentions or what was actually taking place nearby at the front.  We were located in a sparsely woody area away from our headquarters; but the wealth of rumors and the actuality of the paratroopers and reports of Skorzeny’s men dressed in American uniforms kept us alert. Unconfirmed rumors abounded! Anyone moving around was challenged–this even included easily recognized generals.  Lt Leonard Fox,  a C-Company platoon leader,  was taken prisoner by a patrol from the 38th Cavalry Squadron.  He had not received the password for the day.  After six hours, while his legitimacy was being confirmed, he was released. His problem was compounded by having grown up in Cuba and so did not have proper answers for his questioners regarding sports or hollywood personnel.

Lt Refert Croon led a patrol of Joe Manning, Marvin Lowery, Warren Hodges and about ten others, in looking for the paratroopers.  Lowery was killed in an ensuing firefight that killed two Germans and wounded several more—the rest surrendered. A total of nine enemy were killed and about sixty were captured—all of these by C-Company and HQ-Company–as A-Company and B-Company were deployed elsewhere as infantry. In another action, Fred Matthews was captured by the paratroopers, but he managed to escape during a later firefight.

In Operation Stosser, Lieutenant Colonel Frederich-August von der Heydte’s 1,500-man parachute- force dropped into the Hohes Venn on the night of 16/17 December—a swampy area that is at the headwaters of the Roer River,   in November, three of us tried to cross through this swamp. With our Jeep flat out in four wheel drive, we travelled 50 yards, before dropping it down to the floorboards. We then jacked it up and built a corduroy road to get back on solid ground.  His parachute forces had fought several vicious engagements with the 101st Airborne Division in Normandy and again in General Bernard Montgomery’s Market Garden offensive in September 19444-as portrayed in “The Band of Brothers”.

The paratroopers were a day late because of glitches in having their gasoline delivered and in getting assembled.   They were widely scattered from Eupen to Malmedy because of the wind, inexperienced pilots and minimal advance notice of the mission—as dictated by Hitler as a security measure. The twin “Jumo” engines of their planes were unsynchronized–thus giving them a slow beat frequency sound-  We were ordered not to shoot at them, which would give away our defensive positions. Many parachutes were found after the drop- I rescued an undamaged white one, also a large section from a brown and green camouflaged model—both appeared to be silk. The camouflaged silk made fine neck scarves and several still reside in my dresser drawer.

General Dietrich’s 6th Panzer Army included four Panzer Divisions equipped with the latest tanks and weapons—including 1st SS Panzer Division Leibstandarte Adolph Hitler–from which the 30 year old Colonel Joachim Peiper’s Kampfgruppe Peiper was to launch the lightning strike to the Meuse River near Huy, Belgium. He then would move north to Antwerp—thus enveloping our northern armies. Initially Dietrich’s forces were to have reached the Baroque Michel crossroads—midway between Malmedy and Eupen–on the 16th, which was to have been captured then by the paratroopers—but both failed to meet that time-table.

Had Dietrich been able to force his way through Monschau, he very well may have rolled up our front and then captured the large gasoline dumps near Eupen. This would have been a replay of their successful 1940 breakthrough in the Ardennes that had trapped the French and British armies. The 38th Cavalry’s stand at Monschau blunted this effort, so all of Dietrich’s forces were directed south toward Elsenborn, Bullingen and Malmedy. Had they overran Monschau, the German armies could have moved almost unimpeded north to Antwerp, and Hitler would then have been trumpeted as a great tactician. Despite all of the negative opinions about the stupidity of launching the Ardennes offensive by removing troops and materiel from the Russian. front; honesty must conclude that with just a few fortunate breaks, the Bulge could have been a phenomenal German success!

Also, had the Hofen pillboxes not been blown up with TNT and bulldozed full of dirt by our battalion, the enemy may well have reoccupied them during one of their forays into Colonel McClernand  Butler’s  3rd  Battalion,  395th  regiment,  99th  Infantry  Division positions in Hofen and would then have been difficult to dislodge.   Some of these attackers appeared to have been heavily into their schnapps and were oblivious to the withering rifle and machinegun fire. They kept coming until large numbers were killed, wounded or captured–or they may just have been fiercely loyal, highly motivated young soldiers–who is to say?

Early on the morning of 17 December, Sergeant Henri Rioux sent Nettles and another radio man “called Indian” to the battalion for breakfast.  Later, we heard that the paratrooper’s planned assembly area was this battalion radio shack, six hundred yards from our bivouac area. It was located some distance away to keep from drawing artillery fire on our headquarters. When the two radio operators had not returned as expected, Rioux told Julius Mate and James France to go to breakfast and determine what had happened to them.

On their way, they saw a parachute with an attached bag hanging in a dead tree. Seeing evidence of the paratroopers was not surprising since they had heard the planes overhead the previous night.  Mate attempted to recover the chute by pulling on the lines, but the rotten tree broke and the trunk fell across his ankle, pinning him to the ground. After working free, they continued on toward the headquarters and breakfast and then saw Nettles ahead acting very strange. When they ran up to ask what was happening, six paratroopers with machine pistols stepped out of hiding, took them captive, disarmed them and then threw their M-l Garand rifles into a nearby creek–where they were found later that day by a patrol led by Lt Refert Croon.

Nettles and Mate were directed to make a double-pole support to carry a paratrooper who had compound fractures of both legs. At the end of the day. Mate’s ankle was very swollen and painful, so France and Nettles then carried the wounded trooper. This small group kept moving during the day and slept under fir boughs at night.  After wandering about for two days, they joined the main body of about 150 paratroopers and were then interrogated by a German officer who spoke impeccable English. He had studied at a Texas university and so not only knew the language–but also the American idioms and customs.

They were combined with twenty others who had been captured from a laundry unit near Eupen. At night they slept in a tight pile to keep warm, as it was very cold. After a time, when the body parts against the ground were growing cold, they all turned at a given signal. They kept up a running conversation to warn of the importance of moving, toes and fingers to avert frostbite. One of the captives, who understood German, heard their captors discussing how they should dispose of the Americans by throwing grenades into their midst while they slept. When a patrol from the 1st Infantry Division flushed out the paratroopers, the captives ran out waving their shirts and yelling “Don’t shoot-­were Americans”.

The winter of 1944 was one of the coldest in many years, often dropping well below zero degrees Fahrenheit. However, except for those foot-freezing GI boots, we managed-­even when touring around in Jeeps, always with the windshield folded down. Our battalion had few medical problems during this period, although some who failed to change their socks often, contracted trench foot—but none from the 3rd platoon. It was easily prevented by  keeping  a  spare pair  of  woolen  socks  tucked inside  of  one’s  pants.

Body heat dried them out, and they could then be swapped several times a day, while at the same time giving the feet a thorough massage.

During the Bulge our armies lost many men to this malady and especially men from the infantry who—because of an innate desire to keep from being spiculed, could not move out of their foxholes and exercise to keep warm.  Our new battalion medical officer—Captain Goldman—reported several cases of combat exhaustion that he treated with a combination of sedatives and rest, followed by several days of heavy labor within the sounds of battle near the front. Apparently it was successful. To warm themselves, a group of B-Company men built a flimsy cardboard shack with a diesel-fired steel drum stove located in the middle of the floor. When one man tried to force his way into an already full shack, he was unable to do so and no one offered to swap places with him.  Not to be deterred, he yelled “I’ll show you sons of bitches”, and he then threw a clip of M-l ammo into the flames. The mad scramble for the entry almost demolished the shack, after which the perpetrator was run down and pounded.

We must have been a bit odoriferous, as we rarely had an opportunity to shower. Whore baths—water heated in helmets over an open fire—was our only option for washing face, ears, neck, underarms, crotch and feet in that order.  Our helmets then took on a dingy hue. We were usually able to shave daily—though our razors were not the sharpest ones on the planet.  I often fantasized about luxuriating in a tub of steaming hot water, followed by a professional barber’s shave.  When the opportunity arose later for a German barber to do the job, I had to mentally restrain myself to keep from bolting from his chair when I realized how close to my throat his straight-edge razor was operating! At night, I removed my boots and swapped socks before, crawling into a bedroll of several wool blankets, supported by a generous layer of interlaced pine boughs to provide insulation from the cold ground.   During the coldest weather I slept in all of my clothes, changing underwear whenever possible.  One morning I woke to find that a heavy wet snowfall had compressed the pup tent down around my body.  Surprisingly, although we were often half frozen from riding in jeeps—always with the windshield down—or from sloshing about in the snow; few of us were ever sick with colds or flu. After most of the Bulge fighting was over and the weather had improved, we finally were issued insulated shoe-pacs in lieu of those foot-freezing leather boots. In his book “Citizen Soldiers”, Stephen Ambrose said the American command gambled that the war would be over in 1944 before we required shoe-pacs—in retrospect an error in judgment, but C’est la Guerre— you can’t win ’em all!

About 23 December while working on a large anti-personnel minefield near Elsenborn— designed to deny the Germans access to a natural infiltration corridor; a flight of British “Typhoons” came roaring in and rocketed a woods 800 yards to the east. We were a bit jumpy as their flight path was almost directly overhead and we thought that they might have mistaken us for Germans.  That would not have been too unusual, considering the chaotic conditions along the front at that time.  We saw no indication that German forces were there, before or after the strike, but since we were close to the front, that is a distinct possibility. A prominent radiator bulge under the engines gave them a distinctive appearance, and their engines made an unusual roaring noise–not at all like the sharp exhaust crack of the Rolls Royce Merlins in the Spitfires and Mustangs. I was told that these engines had 24 cylinders—four banks of six—as compared to the twelve cylinders of the Merlin. The twenty four exhausts blended the sound into the unusual roar—SINCE VERIFIED.

Christmas day 1944, on the way to our AP minefield, a doe and a yearling crossed in front of our truck 80 yards away.  We stopped and I told the men in back to shoot her. After ten or more rounds had been fired, I yelled “cease fire”,  just as the deer disappeared into the brush, because the firing may have been interpreted as a fire fight with a German patrol that would have initiated a wasteful response.   The doe then wandered back across the road, so I shot her. There was a single hole in her hide–another indication of our superb American marksmanship!

The fresh meat was a welcome change from our recent diet. Several weeks previously, B-Co’s various work parties returned to the company bivouac area one evening with five hogs, two cows, and a deer. Someone had suggested that we have fresh meat, but had not coordinated the effort. The animals were a nuisance around minefields, walking into the trip wires, detonating the mines and killing themselves in the process—we only hastened their demise.  The hogs were fried first and the pork fat was then used to fry the rest of the meat. The meat was chewy and tough—but the change of diet was appreciated. When we were able to get to our company kitchen for a hot meal, I piled most of the food together in my mess-kit (shit-skillet in GI parlance). Breakfast might include stewed prunes, oatmeal with reconstituted dried milk, scrambled powdered eggs, bacon and toast with jam. It did not look too appetizing when so intermingled- -but it tasted better than it looked, and it had a definite edge over those early gruesome K-rations. Also, having the food piled together helped keep it from freezing. Our cooks were artists in their ability to take smelly powdered eggs and powdered milk and turn them into something reasonably palatable. I am not sure what they used to perk up the powdered eggs, but added a bit of vanilla and a pinch of sugar to powdered milk. A vastly improved K-ration showed at about this time. It was far superior to the original—the crackers of which looked and tasted like lightly seasoned sawdust.

On the night of 26 December 1944, our bivouac area was shelled heavily for about thirty minutes.  We were in an area of large trees, so there were many tree bursts. Heading for a safe refuge in a culvert (he called it a tin horn), Platoon Sergeant Homer Jackson ran into a truck tailgate and chipped off the corner of an upper front tooth. It was a tight squeeze as twelve others had beaten him there.  I flattened myself on the ground at the base of a large pine tree away from the direction of most of the tree bursts, and was happy when the shelling ceased. We believed that the damage was done by our captured 105mm howitzers. The shelling probably stopped when the Germans ran out of ammunition. 99th Division 105s were overrun close-by near the Wahlersheid Crossroads and these may have been the culprits.  They must have had forward observers—probably paratroopers—as they took very few rounds to register on our area. We believed that our position may have been pin-pointed by the paratroopers, because their designated assembly point was the forestry shack being used by our battalion radio operators—the three who had been captured.

Several trucks had flat tires and the driveline of one truck was completely severed. A shell fragment smashed through the front panel of a headquarters desk drawer and spinning around inside made a mouse nest out of the papers within. A number of shell fragments pierced the aid station tent—one striking Ernest K Hansen in the chest as he was holding a plasma bottle over one of our wounded. Although a number of men were wounded there were no fatalities. Lt Colonel Carl Isley was the most seriously wounded— wounded as he made the rounds to check on our casualties. He told Dr Stanley Goldman, our medical officer, “that last one really knocked the air out of me”.  He was covered with blood and was given plasma, as blood for transfusions was unavailable in WWII. battlefields.  His recuperation required many months in a stateside hospital.   That night, the battalion was moved to Henri-Chapelle per Isley’s orders, before he was evacuated. Colonel Skorzeny’s “Americans”—who had infiltrated our lines and were captured wearing American uniforms and driving captured Jeeps—were executed by firing squads at Henri-Chapelle a few weeks later.

I arrived late at our bivouac area, but the only cover I could find was in the haymow of a barn.  I did my best to find a spot to spread out, but as the space was completely filled with bodies, I could not find a bare spot. After someone offered to loosen all of my teeth if I didn’t quit stepping on him, I crawled back out and shivered in the Jeep until dawn. The next morning B-Company returned to our original bivouac area, and we continued working on the AP mine field. New Year’s Day morning 1945 was clear and very cold. While we were adding the metal red triangles to the barbed wire perimeter fence—to indicate an American anti-personnel minefield—the sky was suddenly filled with twenty eight Messerschmitt ME-109s flying northwest at 1000 feet. We later learned that they were part of Operation Bodenplatte–the plan to attack our airfields and destroy our planes on the ground—a continuation of the Bulge. A number of our airfields near the front in Belgium and Holland were successfully attacked that day, and several hundred of our planes were destroyed on the ground. German losses were about a third of ours but their losses–and especially losses of trained pilots–were losses that they could ill afford.   Luckily for us, our P-47s were rendezvousing near Liege for a strike of their own, and they caught these Germans by surprise as they were coming in.  It must have been some dogfight, but we saw only the tail end of the action from our work area.

In twenty minutes, as we watched in fascination, five ME-109s were shot out of the sky. The first one fell 1500 yards away, and they kept dropping closer and closer until the last one was only 300 yards from our work area. The script was almost the same in every case. The ME-109 pilots, who were flying southeast and very close to the deck heading for home, were being slaughtered by the P-47s. Our pilots were definitely more aggressive and must have had superior training and experience.  We didn’t see any parts being shot off the 109s, but two were spewing smoke—before they crashed and sent up big black pillars. The fourth downed plane hit 600 yards away, and several of us headed out to see what we could find–such as 9mm Lugers or P-38s!  We had just started off, when another 109 came limping toward us, smoking and losing speed and altitude. The P-47 kept boring in and firing short machine gun bursts. The 109 was hidden by a group of pine trees when the pilot finally hauled back on the stick in an attempt to gain enough altitude to jump.  His plane rose only a few hundred feet and came back into our field of view and then stalled just as he bailed out. We charged down the hill to the crash site, fully expecting to find a dead pilot in or near the wreckage, since we were sure that he had lacked sufficient altitude to eject safely.

The pilot could not be found, but the ME-109 wreckage was on fire and its magnesium castings were burning brightly.  We poked around in the wreckage until the machine gun and cannon shells began to cook off,  and then cleared the  area.  We searched the surrounding area and finally found the pilot’s chute in a pine tree about one hundred feet back in the direction from which we had come.  Landing in the tree surely kept the pilot from being severely injured or killed. The pilot had slipped his chute and had laid low until we passed and then had backtracked up our trail in the snow. We followed his tracks, but lost them at dusk in the area where the snow had been heavily trampled. After escaping death in such a remarkable exit by parachute, we were saddened the next morning to find the young pilot dead within our AP minefield.  He had crawled under the wire barrier and suffered modest wounds when he detonated one of our anti-personnel mines. We surmised that he believed he would freeze to death before morning, so he killed himself with his 9mm P-38. (Mentioned in battalion records of 03 January 1945.)

By early January, we were gaining control after the Bulge had been suppressed; some of the captured Germans dressed in American uniforms from Colonel Skorzeny’s force had been executed by a firing squad at Henri-Chapelle, a few miles north of Monschau; and the paratroopers had been rounded up and shipped off to the PW cages.  Our infantry was gaining control in the St Vith area and we had heard of the successful relief of our troops at Bastogne by General Patton. Although the news that funneled down to us seemed to be more favorable, all that it took to journey back to reality was to observe the graves registration men picking up the dead. One memorable corpse in the snow in front of a nearby pillbox was a big football lineman type infantryman. He was about 6’4” and 2501bs–probably a BAR candidate.  Only stockings were on his feet so he probably was wearing shoe-pacs as no one would have gone to that much trouble to get those foot-freezing G I boots.  At the site of one big tank battle near Bullingen, I had reason to be thankful that I was not a tanker. The bodies that were being removed from knocked out Sherman tanks—Ronsons by their deprecators, since they never failed to light when struck–were wrapped in sheets that looked like oversized diapers.  The corpses were so badly burned that some had no apparent arms or legs.  The stench of burned human flesh is an odor that is not easily forgotten!

General Bernard Law Montgomery’s self-serving news conference to the British press, emphasizing in detail how he had rescued Omar Bradley’s 1st and 9th armies containing eighteen American divisions—finally sifted down to us.  This was during the Bulge, after the German thrust had formed a deep salient into our lines requiring an immediate restructuring of the command, because the Bulge had separated Bradley’s headquarters from his divisions. There is no doubt that Elsenhower’s decision was proper but that—coupled with  Montgomery’s  grand  pronouncements—rankled  Bradley,  causing  dissension  between British and US commanders that almost gave Hitler a victory of sorts by splitting up the allies. Although Montgomery’s presentation was a bit too self-glorifying, it may have been Bradley’s thin skin and wounded ego that was a large part of the problem.’

I was then saddened to learn of Lt Trescher’s death just before the Bulge. He was platoon leader of the 2nd platoon B-Company, and was killed by artillery while attempting to determine the location of that enemy battery by analyzing the artillery burst patterns in the snow.  I found it hard to believe that he was gone.  He was such a fine caring gentleman who watched over his men like a doting mother–thus his nickname “Mother Trescher”.  He was very old—about 32—and was a civil engineering graduate from MIT-Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

Trescher had been at the Assault Training Center near Barnstaple in North Devon when I joined the 146ECB in December of 1943.  He was also the QIC of Gap Assault Team #D on Qmaha Beach at dawn on D-Day, so we had been together for a year.  He was more of a gentleman than the rest of us raunchy lieutenants—and although he usually tried to ignore our dirty jokes, he enjoyed a good laugh and was a fun fellow in his quiet droll way.   R.I.P. “Mother Trescher”—you will be remembered always with fondness.

In January 1945, plans for a new Allied offensive were taking shape. In preparation for a proposed crossing of the Roer River, we built a quantity of duckboards that were to be used over pontoons in that assault. When our infantry outflanked the German positions and captured that area, the duckboards were not needed.  Meanwhile, Ranger patrols were making nightly forays into enemy positions across the Roer River. On one trip, they found three Germans soldiers asleep in a Siegfried bunker. The two men on the outside were knifed, and the one in the middle was left untouched.  Imagine how that poor soldier would feel upon awakening and finding out that he was alive only by a shake of the dice? That was a heavy-duty mind game, and one that would unnerve any normal human being!

In mid-January an infantry lieutenant was wounded near our work area by an “S-mine”–“called a Bouncing Betty”–and his men requested that  our men sweep the area for additional mines.  They became impatient with our slow mine-sweeping technique and ran on ahead down to where their lieutenant was lying. I carefully followed them, stepping in their tracks to avoid being an additional casualty.  We each then grabbed an arm or a leg and carried the lieutenant to safety by retracing our footsteps. He was vomiting and one man kept his head turned to the side to keep the intracranial fluid from running out through the hole in the side of his skull.   He was semi-conscious, and would have remembered nothing. I hope that he had a complete recovery.

That winter, I had seen an almost perfectly formed hemisphere of white brain tissue lying in the snow.  A German soldier had been killed and apparently then had a mortar or artillery round burst nearby, which had blown away the side of his skull and dumped out the delicate white brain tissue.  Had the brain tissue not been frozen, it would not have been so well delineated as unfrozen brains are not all that sturdy. The detail was almost as good as the photographs in anatomy books and was a cause for queasiness in this one, who was not an anatomy major!

After the Bulge had been contained and reduced, our offensive to the Rhine began in early February with “THE MAD MINUTE.” where every weapon along the entire V-Corps front fired toward suspected German concentrations for one minute. This included all of our rifles, machine guns, and mortars firing as many rounds as possible. Divisional and Corps artillery fired TOT (Time on Target), where all of their rounds hit the target area at the same time. This devastating fire did not allow any time for the Germans to take cover—it was all over before they could react.

We then worked our way east toward the Rhine and in March, assisted another engineer battalion in building a floating bridge at Remagen. We then passed through Kassel, Halle, Leipzig and on 05 May passed through Grafenwohr–the German army training camp–where Colonel Skorzeny’s “Americans” complete with American uniforms. Jeeps and cigarettes had prepared for their special Bulge mission. We were nearing Pilsen and “VE Day” was just three days away!

January 13, 1945
by John M. Nolan, 30th ID, 119th IR
This was the worst day of my life, and it occurred in World War II as a member of the First Platoon, “G” Company, 119th Infantry, 30th Infantry Division. This January day during the “Battle of the Bulge” included most of the elements of close combat that can ever be inflicted by the Gods of War. Further, it took place in the bitter cold of a Belgian winter over frozen ground covered with a foot of snow. It was miserable.

The 30th Division had been in fierce combat with advancing German forces since December 18 in the Malmedy-Stavelot sector of the Ardennes. At the end of De­cember we were in a defensive position near Malmedy. Below our dug-in position along a railroad embankment there was a factory complex about a quarter of a mile away. Our platoon was ordered to mount a reconnaissance patrol to search this area for enemy activity. When we arrived we found dead American soldiers lying on the ground with their hands tied behind their backs with wire before being killed by German SS troops. Several dead German soldiers in the vicinity provided evidence of the severe fighting at this location. We found a German Panther tank altered in appearance to re­semble a U.S.Army tank and not wanting it recaptured and reused by the Germans, I took a thermite grenade and put it down the barrel of me 75mm tank cannon. The gre­nade melted most of the end of the cannon tube to ensure the tank would not fire its main gun again.

During this time our company and platoon took a well-deserved rest as we waited for the oncoming action. The German offensive had been blunted and a coun­terattack was planned to drive them out of the Ardennes and restore the battle line to its former location. It was cold and we tried to keep warm in our foxholes along the railroad track. Of all the men in our platoon Ernie King and Edward Knocke were the most inventive when it came to digging foxholes. The longer they were in one defensive location the more elaborate their underground “homes” became. This particular foxhole would have won the prize if any prizes were to be awarded. Their foxhole could ac­commodate about six men was covered with a door they had removed from a nearby house. The door was piled high with dirt to protect the occupants from any mortar or artillery hits. A small table, several chairs, and a small stove had also been “requisi­tioned” from nearby houses. This was heaven! We would sit in their abode at night eating our heated K rations, telling, “war stories.” and reminiscing about home, and our lives prior to our present circumstance. This was a time when we “recharged our bat­teries” and rested up for what we knew would be severe fighting ahead. It was also an opportunity to reassure the green replacements we had received, and hope they would meet the test of the coming combat.

By now we were a veteran outfit. I believe the phrase “hard bitten” could ade­quately describe us. The core group of our platoon had been together since early Sep­tember and was a well honed fighting force. Some members had been wounded and had returned to the platoon in time for combat in the Ardennes. Before Christmas day we had collided with Adolph Hitler’s First Panzer SS Division in a severe “bare-knuckle” firefight that caused their retreat. We knew we had met me test of combat and were ready for what was ahead. “Old timers” like us welcomed the new men that filled our ranks, some of them eighteen years old, and scared to death. We were all scared, and as the saying goes “had seen the elephant.” This knowledge gave us an edge, however slight, over the new men in subduing our own fears.

The intense cold added uncomfortable dimensions to our existence. Unlike die days of September, October, or November when we could get by wearing only a field jacket and combat boots we realized that to survive we needed to pile on more clothes. We all carried a heavy load of clothing and equipment that weighted us down. By De­cember I was wearing two pairs of long underwear, top and bottoms, a wool olive drab shirt and matching trousers. Over this was a field jacket, a wool scarf, and a wool trench coat that was long enough to reach the top of my combat boots. To keep my feet warm two pairs of socks and a pair of four buckle “Arctic’s,” sometimes called “ga­loshes” fit over two buckle combat boots. My steel helmet had a white camouflage cover and a knit wool cap underneath to keep your ears warm. I wore wool knit gloves that fit in a leather glove shell. In addition, I was equipped with a gas mask and a haversack, which held a mess kit, K rations, and a sleeping bag. A canteen with can­teen cup, an entrenching tool and first aid pouch was attached to my ammunition belt. I was one of the fortunate few in the platoon to have acquired a blow torch white in a Belgian town we had occupied and carried it in my left hand. The Army had a small stove to heat rations, and our platoon was issued only one and Mullins, our medical aid man, had that one. We were willing to carry the extra weight of the blow torch in order to have hot meals. These were all the clothes’ one could wear, and still be able to move as an infantryman is supposed to move. I could not run fast or very far with my load, but a steady waking pace was possible.

I was armed with an M-l rifle, 8 round semi-automatic, as well as a 10 inch long barrel Luger 9mm pistol on my belt. The Luger pistol was acquired in October from a German soldier Bill dine had shot one night when we were dug-in on a ridge at Wurselen, Germany. For my rifle there were one hundred rounds of 30 caliber ammuni­tion in 8 round clips, and a few extra 9mm rounds for the pistol. A bayonet was at­tached to my pack, and a rifle grenade bag was slung over my shoulder containing four anti-tank grenades and a launcher that fit over the muzzle of my M-l rifle. Under my wool shirt was a sheath knife carried under my left arm fastened to a string around my neck. Remembering how much weight this added during this campaign it is a wonder how I did it. I weighed about 150 pounds men, and I suspect the weight of the cloth­ing and equipment was at least one half of my body weight.

We received orders to dose the “Bulge” and return the line to its December 16 location. Our battalion would attack, moving south from Malmedy, to seize the town of BeUevaux that was situated behind a high ridge. Company “G” would lead the at­tack and our platoon would be the lead unit to carry the assault up the narrow road to the heights above the town. In preparing for the attack our platoon was told to leave sleeping bags in the rear with the company mess truck. The plan was to bring them for­ward that night after we had captured the objective. I decided to put my gas mask in my haversack instead of carrying it slung under my left arm. For a “GI” the gas mask carrier was considered a good place to “stash” personal belongings. In mine I carried letters received from home, writing paper, a shaving brush, razor and soap, and a coal miner’s carbide canister filled with tea bags.

Our platoon moved to the line of departure in darkness and at dawn the attack began with combat engineers moving forward to remove any anti-tank mines. We then were to clear out any German opposition so our supporting tanks could follow us then deploy in the open ground to support our attack. As we moved forward we learned the engineers had discovered an extensive mine field on the road. It was late in the morning before we could move through a foot path the engineers had opened through the mines. We continued the attack up the road to seize and hold the ridgeline until the tanks could catch up. The platoon slowly trudged its way up the steeply sloped, nar­row road that ran a quarter of a mile to the top of the ridge. The snow was a foot deep and it was slow going as we made our way up the hill with combat boots and our four buckle galoshes.

Ernie King’s squad lead the attack, as the platoon sergeant I decided to be up front with Ernie’s squad; the other two squads in the platoon deployed in single file be­hind us. Cletus Herrig was the lead scout with Bob Friedenheimer the second scout. As the platoon approached the crest of the ridge Herrig spotted German soldiers in foxholes and yelled back that they were dug-in some thirty yards ahead. Cletus could speak German so we told him to call to them and demand that they surrender. I thought I could fire a rifle grenade into their position, but when it landed the deep snow cushioned the impact and it failed to explode.

Cletus kept trying to talk them into surrender, when suddenly all hell broke loose! No one who has ever heard the sound of a MG42 German machine gun open fire will ever forget it. This machine gun was pointed down toward the ditch line where we were crouched spraying us with bullets. The first burst hit four of us before we could find cover in the ditch below the machine gun’s trajectory. Herrig was hit along the top of both shoulders, Friedenheimer was hit through the lung, I took a bullet in the back of my pack and was knocked down to my knees. Behind me was Mflton Cohen, a private, one of the eighteen year old replacements that had joined us two weeks earlier. He was hit in me teeth with the bullet exiting his head behind his right ear, and I will never for­get his plaintive call for his mother. Ernie King was the only one of the first five that was not hit by initial burst of fire from the machine gun.
Having been knocked down I immediately thought, “I just got lucky, I am on my way to the hospital and off this damn hill, and hope my wound is not too severe.” My back was hurting and I assumed that I was bleeding from a puncture in my back. I rolled over and took the pack off my shoulders, to see what had happened. To my sur­prise a German machine gun bullet was lying in the hole on my pack with a shred of rubber attached to it. I picked it up, it was still warm, then put it in my pocket as a souvenir of the occasion. Later I opened my gas mask container and discovered that the pack fabric, the gas mask container fabric, the rubber face mask, the metal gas mask canister, and the handle of my shaving brush had slowed the bullet to a stop on the surface of my field coat. It gave me one hell of a thump on my back that was sore for a few days afterwards. This was the only day in combat I had ever carried my gas mask in my pack and it had saved my life.

That first burst of machine gun fire put our platoon down hugging the ground in the ditch beside the road. We were stunned, and began to assess the extent of our casualties; we were grateful to find that no one had been killed. For the wounded among us immediate evacuation to the rear for treatment at the battalion aid station was made more difficult by the sporadic machine gun fire. The “jerries” had us pinned down and we could not move forward in the face of their machine gun fire on the road and ditch line. The phrase “all hell broke loose” again applied to our situation when the Germans began to drop 81mm mortar rounds on our position. There are few things more fearful to an exposed infantryman than incoming mortar or artillery fire. To compound this fear the “jerries” included in their barrage “screaming meemies,” enemy rockets that made a horrendous noise, and caught us unprepared as targets for mis form of artillery. When they came in on us I perceived their sound was comparable to railroad boxcar flying sideways through the air with both of its doors open. I found out later that the German name for this weapon was Nebelwerfer. As a rocket it did not compare with the accuracy of mortar or artillery fire, but its high pitched screeching noise made it all the more terrifying.

The “screaming meemies” did not get us but me 81mm mortars did. From their defensive positions the German’s were masters at pinning down advancing infantry and then raining mortar rounds on them. The mortar shells were falling on the road behind us and on the remainder of our platoon. An 81mm mortar shell fragment hit Vie Kwia-towski in the head seriously wounding him. Mortar shell fragments hit Bob Heider in the neck, shoulder and back. Jones got hit in the head by a fragment that penetrated his steel helmet, and the mortar barrage also wounded the second squad BAR man, Char­les Holverson, Clarence Overton was killed. Our progress halted, we could not go for­ward and were not going to retreat. The immediate requirement was to evacuate our wounded. Smitty, our platoon leader, was in the middle of the platoon column and organized the effort along with the platoon medic to remove the wounded from the hill. Those that could walk moved to the rear. For the more seriously wounded a door was taken from nearby house and brought forward to use as a stretcher for Vie and others wounded from the barrage.
Ernie King and I stayed to’the front keeping down low in the ditch beside the road. We were concerned that the Germans would mount a counterattack on our posi­tion after their first machine gun burst. Artillery support fire began, but we were too dose to our enemy for the artillery to continue and be effective. Any artillery rounds falling short would have landed on our platoon deployed along the road. The tanks would eventually move forward and up the hill to support us when the minefield was cleared. In the meantime we scanned the hedgerow along the crest of the ridge and a row of trees about thirty yards away that ran down the hill paralleling the road. A German soldier was spotted on the other side of the line of trees crawling down the hill in an attempt to outflank our position. Both King and I shot at him, but at the time we could not see whether we got him. We finally received word that two light tanks had moved through the cleared mine field and would support the Third Platoon in its at­tack through the field on our left flank to knock out the machine gun emplacement.

The attack by the Third Platoon was a sight to behold, with a deafening cres­cendo of small arms fire and cannon bursts. Each platoon of Company G had a slightly different character regarding weaponry preference. Our platoon had no par­ticular love for the Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR); it was a 21 pound load to carry and a weapon that required constant maintenance to keep it operational. Each of our three squads was issued a BAR. However, the 3d Platoon thought the BAR was a great weapon and almost every third man in the platoon carried one. Sergeant Frank Wease, the Third Platoon Sergeant, carried one and encouraged the weapons use.

In the combined infantry and tank attack up the hill Wease deployed his pla­toon abreast in a line on each side of and between the two light tanks. The tanks were armed with a 37mm main gun on the turret and a 30 caliber light machine gun that protruded from the front of the tank where the machine gunner sat beside the tank driver. There were about 14 men with BAR’S in Wease’s platoon and the remainder with M-l rifles. Coming up the hill with the tanks in the middle of the formation, they were all firing as they moved forward. Each tanks main gun, its machine gun, the BAR’S, and the M-l rifles of die third platoon created a sheet of fire concentrated on the enemy position at the crest of the hill. There was no way the third platoon could be stopped by any counter fire from the entrenched German troops. Wease and his men, with their tank support, surged through the enemy line along the trees on the ridge. The German troops that were still alive immediately surrendered. Several minutes had passed when Sgt. Wease brought some prisoners down the road where we were located. All of us were furious at the casualties they had inflicted on our platoon, and wanted to shoot them, but Wease would not let us. Later, after calming down from the days’ events, I was grateful that Wease had restrained me from taking such a rash act. I had never shot an unarmed prisoner, and didn’t want such a thing on my conscience. After the attack King and I went over to the hedgerow where we had shot at the German crawling down the hill. We found him dead. Someone in the attacking third platoon had taken his pistol as they moved up the hill in the assault.

Late afternoon had come by the time our company had seized the ridgeline above Bellevaux. We received orders to set up a defensive position, the days were short in the middle of winter and night would soon fall. The third platoon was to occupy that part of the ridge they had captured earlier in the day. Our platoon deployed in a stretch of open field to their right where digging a foxhole was very difficult. To get beneath the frozen ground required an extraordinary effort. Fortunately, someone in command had realized this problem and before the attack thought to issue a quarter pound block of TNT with a fuse and blasting cap to every other man in our platoon. Instructions have been given on the proper method to assemble the explosive device: dig a small hole in the ground, put the charge in the hole, light the fuse, and move away quickly before it exploded. The resulting explosion broke up the frozen crust so that a foxhole could be easily dug in the softer ground underneath. We were also told that the blasting cap was volatile and could explode if jarred violently, or exposed to excessive heat. This required that every man carrying a block of TNT. with its fuse and blasting cap, carefully wrap each separately, hoping they did not get hit, or in some way inad­vertently ignite the blasting cap and TNT while they were carrying it.

Those of us in the company that survived this day’s combat were faced with enduring a cold winter’s night on a Belgian mountain. Previous to the attack we were told to lighten our equipment load by leaving our sleeping bags in the rear area. Then after the attack our sleeping bags would be carried forward for use that night; this did not happen. Because of the snow cover and the steep incline of the winding road to our defensive position, our company truck could not move dose enough to deliver the promised sleeping bags. We were in for a very long, cold night of lying in the open on frozen snow covered ground, or in hastily dug foxholes. The rifle squads on the defen­sive line got busy, breaking up the ground with TNT then dug their foxholes for the night. We, in the platoon headquarters were not issued blocks of TNT so lying on top of the snow-covered ground was our only option. Lou LeFever, always a great forager, went down the hill and found a barn with some hay in it. He brought as much as he could carry to our position behind the ridgeline. We scattered the hay in the drainage ditch where previously the machine gun fire had pinned us down. We lay on the hay putting the remainder of it on us. Smitty, the platoon leader, Lou LeFever, the platoon runner, Mullins the medic, and me, the platoon sergeant, huddled together in the “spoon position.” I don’t remember who was in the middle, or who was on the outside of our sleeping “formation,” but I do remember that it was very cold, and we were all shivering and hoping for morning to come quickly.

The next morning “G” Company was ordered to advance over the ridge and down the road leading to the town of Bellevaux, our next objective. The Third Platoon would lead the attack, with the Second Platoon in support. The First Platoon having been severely mangled the day before, followed in reserve, with my position being at the rear of our platoon column. It was a cold dark morning as the remaining members of the platoon reluctantly shouldered packs and rifles to prepare themselves for another day of combat against a determined enemy. As we moved single file down the road toward Bellevaux one of the men from the platoon, Samuel Klugman, dropped out of the column. I walked over to find out why. He pulled off his glove and showed me his right hand, saying his hand felt frozen. The hand looked blue and rigid so I told him to go to the rear for medical treatment. This was our last casualty from the attack the previous day, the worst day of my life.

Comment: The combat strength of Company G, 119th Infantry at 0300 hrs. on January 13,1944 was 140 (134 EM, 3 Off, 3 Medics). At 1600 hrs., at the end of the attack, the company combat strength was reduced to 83 (78 EM, 3 Off, 2 Medics). In a 13-hour period Company G lost 57 men, a 41 % loss rate. Of the 57 losses three men were killed, Clarence Overton, 1st Platoon, Lauren A. Gates, Jr., and James W. Phillis 3d Pla­toon; the remainder were wounded in action.

Colonel Douglass Dillard U.S.Army (ret.) Recounts some of his Battle of the Bulge experiences

“Recon, you find ’em; engineers, you fixjem; tanks, you fight ’em; and TD’s, you finish em!” With these emphatic, but crystal clear adjurations, LTC Henry L Davisson set the tempo for his task force subordnance commanders. It was 16 December 1944, and the yet-to-be-named “Ardennes Offensive” had exploded. This Kraut’s massive tank penetration now was creating this northern shoulder of what was to be its acquired sobriquet, “The Battle of the Bulge”.

In response, hastily thrown together units from the vaunted 1^st INF Division, “The Big Red One,” would acquire its title “from the aggressive commander of the 634^th T.D. BN.” “Task Force Davisson” was thus quickly formed as a lightly armored, tank-killing reaction force! MAJ Olson, the “TFD” S3 designated the line of march, handed out strip-maps for a southward reconnaissance.    Our armored convey consisted of the 1^st Recon Troop heading out with puny 37 mm armed M-8 Greyhound armored cars. Intermingled came the 1^st Combat Engineer BN’s “A” Co. riding its soft-skinned vehicles. Now came “D” Co. of the 745^th Tank BN with its measly LT Whippert tanks armed also with 37 mm guns, but backed up by its 75 mm assault gun platoon. Spread out and looking for targets came “C” Co. of the 634^th TD BN with their 90 mm rifles, claiming the ability to compete with German armor. All ably supported by “the King of the Battlefield,” our four-man “F.O. Chaste” Arty 2 Observation party (with the common capability to call down Divarty and Corps Arty “barrages or serenades”).

Our battery veterans of the “Lucky 7^th” Arty BN, who had fought German armor in Tunisia, Algeria, the beach at Sicily, and in the fields of Normandy, spoke out in warning to our little observer party: “Be ready. This TF Davisson is outgunned by the huge Panthers and King Tiger monsters reported coming your way. Remember, your tank-destroying force needs to equal or outgun those battle-tested German Behemoths and also mount sufficient armor to protect themselves from the superior German anti­tank weapons. In other words, you better be ‘killer tanks’ rather than tank killers. If not, you will have to stop ’em with indirect 105 mm or 155 mm Arty concentrations.”

Despite these knowledgeable words, we heard only the spumngs of COL Davisson. Quickly, the “TFD” saddled up and cautiously commenced traveling south through snowy Belgium. The lengthy convoy slid out of SourBrodt and Robertville and clanked into Walk and Weimes, small villages recently vacated by U.S. medical units.  The weather was frigid cold and damp, but the fog was dissipating, and for once, Arty would have wonderfully clear observation! Here we were, “The Lucky 7th’s” forward observation party on high ground, salivating at the abundance of lucrative targets! Spotting from our town’s church steeple with our 20-power scopes, German convoys, to include tanks, traveling west across our front from 863-020 to 863-024—an artillery man’s dream!. Compounding our good fortune, our “Lucky 7^th‘¹ Arty BN had recently been supplied with the previously secretive ammo employing “the proximity fuse” constructed around its nose plug, which activated when the emitted radio beam encountered an object within 15 yards! We were going to have the proverbial field day .. and we deserved it!

Our parent organization, “The Fighting First,” was still recuperating from its horrific bloodletting in “The Hurtin’ Forest” this past November, where the Krauts had grounded us into Hurteen Forest and pasi^ Surely now was to be payback time … but the war gods frowned and said no, …. not yet!  The American Artillery ammunition supplies across the entire 1^st Army front were dangerously low, contriving to place “quotas” on all “shoots”! Our radio pleas to FDC for fire missions received a “wait out”! Our frantic telephone messages informed us their priority was to our east. There, our sister regiment, the 26^th INF “Blue Spaders,” were in continuous battle with German armored thrust at Bullingen and Butenbach. There, LTC Derrill, M. Daniels, and his 2d BN would successfully blunt the German COL Piepers’ rampaging westward drive and dream! That portion of the northern shoulder would remain firm!

So now it was to be our turn. The German 1^st SS Panzers, frantically searching for a route on the Rollbahnen to the west, then sideslipped and proceeded to smash at us; “TFD” now intermixed with 3d BN 16^th INF at Weimes/ Our front erupted with tank fire and reported INF advancing plus intensified artillery fire in our immediate front. Our first indication was a flying buzz bomb smashing into the battery area and WIAs three gunners—CPL Homer A .Jerome, T/5 Raymond A. Fink, and PFC Erio Baton. We were further alerted by a commotion reported on our eastern outpost which luckily forewarned everyone in town! Speeding down the only street in Weimes came two G.I. jeeps overly loaded with Krauts. Firing madly and careening widely to escape our firing gallery response, they crashed off the road on the west side of the village.

COL Davisson then ordered, “Recon, send a squad to investigate and recover bodies and/or the vehicles”! LT Cangerosi, our F.O., took over the viewing scopes from our lofty OP as the submachine-armed Recon squad gingerly approached the overturned vehicles. They sprayed the area, righted a jeep, and returned with a WIA spreadeagled on the hood! Another German captive was shoved into the co-pilot’s seat, hands on his head. Arriving at the town square, now crowded with a rubbernecking G.I. throng, the Jerry prisoners held center stage! Looking like “right out of Hollywood” with his peaked hat and black leather topcoat and gloves, in excellent English, he demanded medical attention for his men! In response, someone in the crowd belted him with a rifle butt! He was saved further harm by the NCOs who held back the provoked soldiers. It appeared that in breaking through our outpost, the Germans had hailed in English, then fired and killed and wounded the surprised guards. These angry crowd members were old-time buddies of the soldier killed by this “ruse-de-guerre”!

Later, with his head now bandaged, the German officer was carted off to the 16^th INF Regimental S-2, where subsequent interrogation divulged he was an officer-courier transporting the photographic proof of this German explosive and successful penetration through the American lines. The following day, angered regimental staff members descended and oversaw a search of the snowy jeep accident area and found this valuable film!

These important photos, immediately developed at the rear headquarters, received prominent world attention as the classic “Bulge” combat film showing smilincL German paratroopers as “successfulwarriors in action”! With our shooting priority reestablished and our observation still A-OK, our ARTY observer party initiated fire missions with visibly outstanding results! LT Anthony Cangelosi, our latest F.O., who would break the “bad luck cycle” of officer casualties and proceed to “make it” to the war’s end in Czechoslovakia, took targets under fire. First, we fired on “enemy troops forming for attack,” then followed a mission on enemy vehicles. Finally, we observed for a Divarty TOT on an enemy assembly area. With the horizon ablaze, we continued with harassing fires throughout the night. CPL Maurice Vacher was our instrument CPL who would be promoted and get the Purple Heart the following week. He would return, bandaged, with three new stripes and stories of great chow in the medical rear. Me, now a Tech 5^th (CPL’s pay without the authority) and my cohort, T/5 Rene Cote, our dependable driver, rounded out our crew. At first light, all of us, now professionals after six months on the combat scene, poured destruction on the advancing white-painted enemy armor and accompanying white-clad infantry.   After four missions and 275 rounds expended, we reported “enemy activity ceased and one tank burning”!   Later, during a slow afternoon, CPT Fred F. Chirigotis from the 745^th Tanks asked for our indirect fire observing so they could “use up” their 75 mm ammo. With a total expenditure, their tanks would be able to acquire new 76 mm tubes! Jumping at the chance, I got some invaluable and exhilarating shooting experience and contributed some damage, too!

During another quiet period, on Cote’s watch, he asked, “What the hell are those guys doing?” An engineering squad seemed to be laying a hasty minefield n the road leading south into the town of Faymonyille. Apparently, these engineers must have been short of mines because the engineering Sergeant had his squad scrounge up dinner plates from the nearby Belgium homes. His squad, laden with this ample supply of dishes, were pacing off the distances and placing plates face down on the road and adjoining fields. As viewers, our interest peaked. “Look at him now. He’s putting some real mines amongst those kitchen plates!” Finally, the squad members covered these actual metallic mines with large porcelain dinner platters. “Very clever, these Americans!”    Those porcelain covers will inhibit the mine metallic detectors.” Later that afternoon, as it snowed, our forward area was dimpled with the ingenious defensive preparation.  German counterfire re-intensified and seemed to be directed at our high ground and steeple, so we moved into town to the second floor of the town hall or barroom . .. “kaboom”! The biggest tank you ever saw blew our jeep to kingdom come. No one was hurt, but we sure were happy we had gone to church the previous Sunday! We countered with “purple smoke,” our air strike marking rounds as FDC insisted, “No aircraft available”. A couple of more rounds that “landed first, then whistled after” a nd whew, he backed out of view somewhere back into Faymonville. The troops were understandably quiet as we hurriedly plastered the town with HE and WP and set numerous fires, everyone privately hoping he was through with us good guys!

Our Chief of Detail and my boss S/SGT Joseph Desforge and Motor Sergeant “Shorty” Hofer came up during darkness with a replacement jeep. Besides replacing our food and extra radio batteries, they told us we were stopping an enemy armored attack on the northern shoulder of something called “the Battle of the Bulge”! After that illuminating information, we settled back in, but encountered some new problems. Our “posit” rounds were exploding at their maximum ordinate as premature bursts over our heads! Apparently, the sensitive fuses were set off by clouds! As if that was not enough, SGT Ringer’s howitzer, back in the firing battery area, had a muzzle burst and the gun was destroyed, but luckily, with no gunner casualties. Probably the intense cold on the metal tube and the sudden heat of the morning firing caused it. My remembrance of this December is the bitter cold, with all the troops occupied with ways of keeping warm. The approved method was putting on layers of any clothing! Many brainy GIs wrapped blanket strips over straw around their boots and created an incredibly large footprint in the snow—anything for insulation to stave off trench foot while occupying their foxholes.

During our lengthy and boring time on watch, someone mentioned, “Today’s Christmas! This’ll make our 3″^ Christmas overseas for our ‘Lucky 7^th‘ Arty BN.” Cote reminisces about Christmas ’42 in Africa and on the moors in England on Christmas of ’43. LT Cangelosi celebrated by knocking out an MG position at 864-013 with two direct hits!! The Doughs cheered and waved their arms and weapons, stamping their cold feet, too, in their exposed foxholes! Afterward, when I sneaked down to the chow line in an adjoining cellar, the cooks told us “Boomers” (Arty observers), “You’re doing a bang-up job.” But more importantly, he slipped me an extra helping of meat and potatoes!

From Christmas to New Year’s, .it was just continuous fire—at “enemy troops in the open” and “enemy tanks.” Our records show we averaged over 1,800 rounds per day during the last days of December 1944! This wall of steel both harassed and hampered the enemy’s efforts to exploit and enlarge his armored thrust. Our uninterrupted night defensive fires, requested by our supported 16^th INF, commenced with the coming of darkness and carried over until daybreak! Even so, another strong tank counterattack was repulsed in the vicinity of 053-013 (railroad tracks near Steinback, Belgium) by the direct fire of the 634^th TDs and 74 tankers. The blackened hulks of destroyed German tanks stood out against the snow. The bodies of German infantry were not as easily discerned!

New Year’s Day opened with hordes of German aircraft strafing our positions. As usual, the poor bloody infantry suffered the casualties, and as always, it’s the new replacements! We “boomers” hid in our cellar as the bomb explosions rattled around us, watching the LT celebrate by drinking his liquor ration as we under-aged peons looked on!  Rumors were now flying that we would attack Faymonville the first week of January ’45. So we took under fire all possible EN positions in the town. Methodically, we increased the destruction by dropping H.E. rounds through the roofs, then followed 9 up with W.P. to burn the houses. Most of them, however, were constructed of stone and resisted all our bombardments! Still, slowly, Faymonville was now systematically pulverized.

During that first week of January, we carefully, in conjunction with the mortars, fired in support of a patrol attempting to retrieve the body of LT McLaughin of “L” Co. KlA’d days previously.  LT Cangelosi “had the word” and got us ready by checking our equipment, clothing, and footwear. “I want constant commo while on the attack” he said. “The INF is going to get us on high ground every chance they can and protect us, too.” That’s good, but for me, first I must get and be warm! Layering of clothing was the answer. So it’s long underwear, shirts, jackets, many trousers, ponchos, wrapped blanket strips over straw, and joining the “monster footprint brigade”. With a French Foreign Legion “kepi” look, I covered my helmet with a white pillow slip with a flap covering my neck!!   Then I enclosed myself in a white bed sheet, a snow cape, and emerged through the slit for my head. Finally, I connected up the radio and set it on a German wooden sled with a 50-foot on/off switch for the LT’s use. We were “ready for Freddy”! Threw some cardboard ammo cartons filled with coffee, sugar, and cans of cream on the sled and loaded my pockets with “goodies”!

Now, as the last preparation, I ate everything I could of rations: crackers, cheese, meat and beans, cocoa, sugar, candy—anything for energy! “Now bring on those Krauts. I’m warm, full, and have dry feet. I can shoot, scoot, and communicate!”  On 14 January 1945 with heavy snow falling, the 16^th INF Regiment’s 3^rd BN commanded by LTC Charles T. Homer co-mingled with portions of T.F. Davisson’s tanks assaulted Faymonville! We (with me pulling the radio sled) accompanied “I” Co., than later “L” Co. As we slowly trudged into the northeast portion of Faymonville, mines in the snow took out some of “A” Co.’s 745^th tanks, but the “Doughs’ continued despite incoming mortars. The first reports were 2 KIA and 15 WIA for our 3^rd BN. We stopped at nightfall and ran a line to the nearest Co. To hear reports of 70 casualties for the 3^rd BN. We fired harassing missions and kept everyone awake! The next morning dawned crisp and sunny, and LT Cangelosi returned from BN briefing: “We are going to take Schoppen, the next town to the southeast. Let’s move it!” Trudging again through the snow, we encountered some woods where MG fire erupted. LT Cangelosi quieted it with an H.E. concentration! We held up in these woods with no fires, no hot chow, and tried stomping our feet all night to stay warm! Only good thing was a can of sliced peaches (kept warm in my armpit) for breakfast from my food stash!

The following day (maybe the 15^th of January), we accompanied the 3d BN’s “L” Co., which seemed to be in reserve since we stepped in the footprints of the lead company! The snow was knee deep and snowing fiercely with drifts piling up. Someone passed the word down the line, “We are in a blizzard!” Observation was impossible—we cannot see anything, but better still, the Germans cannot see us either! My day consisted of struggling through the snow, laying a line back on the road, and finally meeting our Arty liaison wire crew; then splicing the line with frozen fingers and hearing the two parties conversing. We, tried bumming rides on the only vehicles moving, “Weasels,” some type of a lightweight covered track vehicle. They seem to be ambulances carrying WIA and flying their Red Cross flags. Everyone on the road now piled on a tank Dozer for a slippery, dangerous ride back, and I followed my line back into a house. Thank God, the troops had fired up a stove, and it was crowded and cozy! While LT Cangelosi and SGT Vacher observed upstairs, I dried up and tried heating my radio batteries on the stove to restore their strength: “Eureka, I think it works!”

The Arty liaison bunch gave me the bad news that “Jonsey,” “A” Bty radioman, was KlA’d when we hit Faymonville. The word was he was hit by a sniper. We were losing a lot of “Doughs,” but they were strangers to me. “Jonsey” was an Arty buddy doing my same job on the |?.0.! I had just returned a quarter-mile reel of commo wire I’d borrowed from him.

We continued through the snow at the proverbial “snail’s pace,” the “Doughs” plodding through snowdrifts, the tanks sliding and slipping off the roads. Noticed sometfops had wrapped barbed wire around their boots for traction; they claimed it worked! My salvation was my sled and wrapped boots. The LT is pleased with his constant commo as I dragged the sled. The troops were pleased with his instantaneous fire mission at any obstacle, seen or unseen. I was pleased with my available food on the sled!  We entered Modersheid and fired normal missions on enemy troops, and then strangely, we gave them four missions of propaganda shells! We continued with 13 missions on enemy troops at CPs and OPs with approximately 70 hits on houses containing troops, with resulting fires. Then we continued with harassing fires throughout the night—nobody sleeps!

The next morning—don’t know the date—we commenced preparation fires prior to forward displacement, meaning “move out and drag the sled”! It seemed to be getting lighter in weight—probably from eating the rations and throwing away the used batteries. Great news! The 16^th INF was squeezed out of the advance by the 18^th INF, so for us, immediate support became general support, and another team took over. We were lucky—the food just about ran out! SGT Vacher quartered us in a large barn while LT Cangelosi checked with 3d BN for hot scoop! We cleaned up the equipment, gassed up the jeep, set up a stove, and cooked some liberated food!  We were in heaven: no observation duties, in a warm barn, bellies full, just radio watch and waiting for the LT to take us home. . . . “kaboom”! A round came through an opening in the front wall and OUT the back wall—with a startling, crackling explosion that showered us with debris. Straw flew everywhere, and we were covered with shards of wood, powdered stone, and animal droppings! No one was physically hurt, but someone had to change their laundry! We moved next door to another barn, smaller, but with stone walls!

It was 31 January 1945, and we were pulling radio watch only while putting in land lines to Arty Liaison. Listening on the Arty net, we heard a rare command given to the guns: “BTY C, continuous fire to the right at 5-sec intervals with a converged sheath” for an expenditure of 45 rounds at the same target! Contact by telephone to my old buddies at Arty BN FOC discloses that a subsequent 18^th INF patrol reports a German 6-gun battery of 150 mm abandoned their positions and guns at the coordinates of that strange concentration!

It was the beginning of February; the sun came out, and it seemed that Task Force Davisson, having halted, then chased the Germans out of Belgium, then simply faded away with the spring thaw!