The Ardennes Offensive began on December 16,1944. The weather was bitter cold, foggy and dreary. All was quiet until Dec. 16 when the Krauts attacked. There was chaos that slowly resolved itself into grim determination, desperation and numbness…you got it. “The Bulge” refers to the progress of the German offensive and to how far they pushed our lines back. Winston Churchill is quoted as saying, “This is undoubtedly the greatest American battle of the war and will, I believe, be regarded as an ever famous American victory.”   Two million men were involved in this the largest land battle the US Army has ever fought.

We were brought down to the St.Vith area. Our missions depended on the targets spotted. We wouldn’t fire non-stop unless necessary. We were limited to the ammunition available to us. Sometimes we’d get a FIRE MISSION at various times day or night. At chow time half of the gun crew would go to the rear to get fed so the rest of us had to carry out the mission. Then, sometimes, by the time we had a chance to be fed, all the food was gone so our dinner was sometimes just a piece of bread and coffee. Or we ate combat rations.

As far as getting any hot food from December 1944 to February 1945 our cooks were able, once in a while, to bring hot food up in insulated Mermite cans. The US Army has a tradition of always trying to get a turkey dinner to the troops on Thanksgiving and Xmas with all the trimmings. Kinda hard to serve it up properly in that cold weather with everything served onto one’s cold mess kit all together with dessert slopped on top. That was special. Night time could be beautiful. The searchlights would go on to create artificial moonlight for our Infantry lads. There would be flares fired and the magnesium flares would light up an area as they came down on little parachutes.. Machine gun tracers from our anti-aircraft guns would make pretty patterns in the sky because every 5th round had the rear hollowed out and packed with a chemical that glowed when fired. All this was to help the gunner zero in on his target. And the sounds that filled the night: Of weapons firing by the Infantry machine guns, mortars going off and other artillery pieces firing. And then the krauts would send over “Checkpoint Charlie” at night. He’d come over, drop a few flares and take, we think, photos, drop a bomb or two, and with his distinctive engine sound disappear back to his own lines. Sounded like the engine needed a tune-up.

One memory I’ve had of this Xmas time was firing a mission and the FDC guys (Fire Direction Center) said, “You guys know that tonight’s Xmas Eve?” That’s how we found out during the winter of ‘44. Since our gun positions were generally in the open or at the edge of trees we were pretty well exposed to the chilling wind. Frostbite casualties were common due to a lack of proper clothing and boots. I wouldn’t know how cold it got without having a thermometer but it was the coldest winter in Europe in 40 years. Records show that temperatures plummeted from 40 degrees down to minus 10 to minus 20 F at night. Brrrr.

Bradley and even Ike felt the war would be over by Dec. 1944 so they had the manufacturing and shipment of winter clothing stopped. Some supplies were in warehouses in France but the rear echelon guys got into those. All we had were leather boots and were supposed to massage each other’s feet to prevent frostbite. The medical Dx was “frozen feet” but in WWI it was called “trench foot”. Not much more than commiseration with my buddies held me together mentally during times of hardship as we were all in it together. Our bedding was just a wool Army blanket each. Yes, just one blanket. In December they issued us a mummy style sleeping bag, which was a blanket with an outer shell and a zipper. Eventually they got wool gloves, a wool scarf, a sweater and galoshes or overshoes to us at the front. It was joked that it was so cold that it would freeze the balls off a brass monkey. Don’t know where that expression came from but it always got a laugh.

After we would get our howitzer into firing position, next we would did a hole for the projectiles and powder charges, and then dig our personal fox holes, then dig a small slit trench, the width of a shovel blade, and thus we could squat and straddle the trench, cover it with some dirt we had dug. TP was slid onto the handle of the shovel, which was jammed into the dirt we had dug out. It was quite an experience to squat in icy cold weather and expose your butt to the cold.

The Belgians generally cleared out as they were fearful of the reprisals from the Germans. Those few who stayed opened their homes to the troops. If we stayed for a few days it would give us a chance to contact a farmer in France, N. Belgium, or Holland for cider, wine, or females. We tried to lure them to our area with promises of food, cigarettes. Not much success. We could not talk with any German for fear of a fine of $65 (a months’ pay for privates). On December 23 the skies finally cleared and all we heard were aircraft engines and saw contrails and there was cheering at the event. Our guys parachuted in ammo, food and medicine to the encircled troops at Bastogne but unfortunately, the Krauts got some of the chutes. After the war a German soldier reported that that he found a canned Hormel ham hanging from a parachute and had dined with a Belgium family that Christmas.

We pushed the Germans back into Germany and the Ardennes Offensive ended the beginning of February 1945. When December weather comes in with its cold and fog, even after 68 years, my thoughts drift to the Bulge experience and I shiver as I remember those Bulge weather days of suffering. We moved eastward quickly and eventually found ourselves below Magdeburg, Germany in support of the 2nd Armored Division and the 83rd ID which both had bridges across and troops on the east side of the Elbe river until we were ordered to hold our positions. This is now April 1945.

We went “scrounging” in Germany but couldn’t go far. Some guys found weapons or other souvenirs. If we found food we feared it might be poisoned. Krauts knew we scrounged for wine and schnapps and would urinate into those bottles. Once in a small town in Germany I went scrounging for a door to put over my foxhole to prevent shrapnel from coming in. The house was untouched with even a beautiful crucifix on the wall and I spotted this grand piano. I was angry at the Germans so, in a fit of adolescent stupidity, I destroyed a good part of the piano with my carbine,so the residents would have something to suffer with. We prepared to move for occupation duties in Giessen, Germany.

We liberated several German concentration camps and witnessed the results of the atrocities. Unfortunately we gave the starving inmates our high calorie rations which caused them distress and even death. This liberating of POW and concentration camps came in our drive to the Elbe River. VE Day came May 8 and the Russians on the east bank of the Elbe River were celebrating. We could hear them yelling and firing into the air with their weapons. Flares were going off and an accordion was playing. I decided to take a lone journey across the pontoon bridge one day and got a ride in a jeep. On the east bank of the Elbe I saw a column of rough looking Mongolian troops, female traffic cops, and their kitchens pulled by horses. I thought, “I sure hope we never have to fight them.”  Ourselves, on the west bank of the Elbe River did no celebrating as we were due to ship out to battle in the Pacific.

In Giessen we guarded first the Polish and then the Russian DPs (Displaced Persons) or manned the checkpoints on the Autobahn. One time we took a trainload of Russian DPs packed into boxcars into the Russian Zone. The four of us had a boxcar to ourselves, which was loaded up with Ten-in-One rations. Our journey was overnight to the edge of Czechoslovakia. We’d distribute the ration boxes to each car at mealtime stops. Our unit was broken up based on an individual’s point system and we were sent to one of the “cigarette camps” near La Havre for weeks of idleness while we waited for transportation home by ship.

Days Not Forgotten December, 1944
Wilbur (Web) Halvorsen
6th Armored Division
50th Armored Infantry Battalion
Company A

[The story in the February’ issue by Benjamin A. Goodin, “Time on Target, ” Les Bois Jacques, Bastogne was of great interest to me.] I had tied in with the l0lst Airborne Division. At that time we were spread out mighty thin. We lost more than half the men in our company, including all of our officers. First Sergeant Remmer was acting company commander. All the men in the outfit were being pushed to the limit. We were cold, tired and hungry. For eight days, our half-track with our sleeping bags couldn’t reach us forcing us to take shelter at night in a snowdrift. If we were lucky, we could find a deep dug German foxhole with logs over the top.

While we held this line I could hear German activity in the wooded area 400 yards out in front. The sound of tank engines turning over increased as the day wore on. We sent the word back and hoped for some TD help, but nothing happened. I made the rounds of the men as they huddled in their slit trenches, encouraging them to move to induce some circulation, or at least to work their feet against the side of the trench to keep them from freezing. Many developed frozen feet. I kept a pair of socks in my helmet liner, and changed whenever I had the opportunity. I saw men with frozen feet. It was terrible. We were told to hold the line at all costs, so we waited it out. Night came. We were exhausted, and tension kept building up, knowing that we could be hit at any moment, surely at daybreak.

At night the Germans sent up flares that turned the darkness to day. Artillery fire was heard off and on. Each time we knew the attack was on, but nothing happened. I was one of the few left of those who disembarked from the LST’s at Utah Beach, so I had some battle experience. Some of the new replacements were only there a few days. I can remember to this moment the look of fear and anxiety in their eyes. A young replacement that I put on guard duty could stand it no longer. Thinking he would be sent to the rear, he shot at the tip of his finger. The rifle blast and velocity took most of three fingers. So it was as we waited it out.

Sergeant Remmer came by with orders for everybody to stay put in their holes. He had heard that something was afoot, and would let me know. It wasn’t long in coming. The sound of artillery firing behind us was something I never will forget. The shells from the 105’s and 155’s kept coming and coming, whistling over our heads. I thought it would never stop and it was like music to our ears. All were on target to the wooded area in front of us. No one could survive the intensity of the blasts. That TOT that Benjamin Goodin wrote about saved the day for us. We were lucky.

Shortly after, a patrol was sent to view the damage. 1 am happy to this day I wasn’t on that patrol. The slaughter was indescribable. It was a massacre, littered with broken bodies and random wreckage. Many bodies were hanging from tree branches. It was utter and absolute devastation. Those still living would have minds shattered beyond repair. Men returning from the patrol were speechless. They were sick; I felt sorry for them.

The following incident happened a few days later. The Germans were still probing for an opening along the entire front. We found ourselves again on line at the edge of a wooded area. The Germans had their tanks lined up opposite us. We could see them, through the trees in the woods across from us. I saw one of our own tanks lined up with them. Sergeant Remmer sent back for firing power but it wasn’t promising, so we just waited. Then something very strange happened. A G1 came running out of the woods from the German side, waving his arms in desperation, telling us that we should get out of there as we didn’t have a chance. He said that he was released by the Germans to warn us to move out or we would be annihilated.

His uniform was a mess. He wore no helmet, and his hair was down in front of his face. He spoke good English, and loud enough for every one to hear. Some of our new men did make steps to the rear before they were halted. It didn’t take long for me to figure it out. After calming him down, I backed him against a tree and started asking him questions for him to admit he was German. I sent him to the rear, but not before a couple of our men ordered him to exchange uniforms with a dead German. He was correct in saying that we were about to be attacked.

It wasn’t long before a Tiger tank came moving slowly across the frozen ground in our direction. We had only our Ml rifles. It was strange that only one tank came forward. But, one or ten were at its mercy. However, the good Lord was with us. From the rear we heard a tank destroyer, crashing through the pine trees, dashing in front of us. It stopped, whirled, and fired at the Tiger. He then pulled back after one shot and repeated the operation down the line. The tank with its heavy armor wasn’t knocked out. It went into reverse and made it back to where it started. The attack was called off. After dark we pulled back to a better defensive position. It didn’t allow us any rest or ease the tension.

The next day we were again on the attack.

The 87th Infantry Division was a relative newcomer to the US Army. Most of the
Officers, commissioned and Non-commisioned, were new to the Army and the soldiers were primarily of young college age as the result of a change in approach on the part of the army in which the participants in a program designed to train engineers for the Engineering Corps were transferred to the Infantry when demand for the latter skill intensified as the result of the German Invasion of France.

The Engineering Training Program was known as the US Army ASTP with many
of the participants underage (less than 18 years of age] for the regular army and
were carried in a reserve category known as the ASTRP. The end result was a
division with a preponderance of very young soldiers with most 18 years of age. The
87th and probably the 106th Divisions were probably the youngest soldiers in the US Army.

Members of the ASTP completed their Basic Training at Fort Benning GA and
then were assigned to the 87t [and the 106th] when the ASTP was discontinued. The
87th left Fort Jackson in mid October 1944 and were received on the Queen
Elizabeth and the H.H. T Pasteur for the trip to England. We arrived at Gourock
Scotland on the Firth of Clyde on 22 act 1944 and were transported via train to the
Biddulph Moor area to regroup and reequip. During the 23-27 November period
the 87th departed for France and eventually combat with the German Invaders. We
had a great month with the people of Biddulph.

During our sojourn in England prior to being shipped to France, D Company-
345 Infantry [my company] was billeted in an old stone velvet mill on the moors
outside of Biddulph. There were no sanitary facilities except for an outside latrine.
At night, everyone kept a #10 can underneath one’s bunk to use for middle of the
night nature calls and it would be emptied in the morning when you went to the
latrine for the AM activities. Some unfeeling scoundrels would use their neighbors
can and occasionally would fill it to the point where the rightful owner would find
it full when the need arose at 100 or 200 AM. Needless to say, the language that ensued could not be described in polite terms as the latrine was a good 100 yards outside and it was overcoat weather.

The velvet mill also lacked shower or bathing arrangements and we were transported to a nearby coal mine to use the shower facilities. About 20 or so of us soldiers would position ourselves under the shower heads and the water would be turned on and off from a central spigot. There were no individual controls. It was strictly a case of wetting down, soaping up and then showering off after a quick washup. It worked!! Any alternative was not in the cards and we managed to keep clean especially for the Saturday Night Dance back in Biddulph that the residents arranged for this young group of soldiers. We appreciated the effort and we hoped that the young ladies also received some gratification.

The bus route from town terminated at a crossroads pub (The Rose & Crown] about a mile cross country from the mill and most of us would get a cone of chips in town prior to boarding and have them with a pint or so of good English beer before commencing the trek on foot back to the mill. We had ample opportunity to restock our bladders with this arrangement. The people were very friendly in the Town of Biddulph and I keep fond memories of my sojourn there. I was especially intrigued by the narrow canal boats that hauled coal to the nearby potteries and pottery back. The canal’s were very narrow. I understand that most of these boats have been converted to tourist use.

We were sorry to leave in late November as the people of Biddulph has been so kind to we young soldiers. A number of us returned following the war for a visit and especially a ride on the converted Canal Boats that became so very popular during the post war period. My Wife Carol and myself took advantage of the opportunity later in the 1970’s when we undertook a driving tour of England and Ireland. Biddulph was just as I had remembered it and the Canal Boat ride was wonderful.

I will always have a fine memory of Happy Days in Biddulph.

December 16, all hell broke loose: the start of the Battle of the Bulge. The Germans were everywhere. They hit us with 1900 heavy artillery, 250,000 soldiers, 100 large tanks, and other assault weapons. On an eighty-mile front we had 75,000 men in this area: the Ardennes. The weather was very cold, 10 to 20 below zero, heavy wind and snow. The sky was overcast so our Air Force could not come to help. Everyone had frozen feet, hands or faces. We were low on food, ammo, gas, and our heavy winter clothing had not arrived. Most of our communications were knocked out. “We were all on our own fighting as single units. We found other units and organized into a unified fighting force as best we could. The Germans at this point were desperate. They were using every combat unit they had left to try to stop the Allied drive into mother Germany.

The SS were inhuman at this point, they killed everyone; old men, women and children. They burned everything and shot POWs. This was the only time I saw American troops kill German soldiers that tried to surrender. If they wore black uniforms of the SS, they were shot. At Baugnez, Belgium, the SS shot over 100 American POWs. This was called the Malmedy Massacre because there was a sign at Baugnez pointing to Malmedy, which was two or three miles down the road.

I cannot describe the cold, hunger and atrocities that the Allied troops were subjected to in the Battle of the Bulge from December 16, 1944, until January 25, 1945. We fired and ran, bled and ran, until we were out of ammo and gas, then we looked for American tanks and trucks that were disabled and took what we could use from them. One day we got lucky, several boxes of K rations were on a truck. With very little food we would heat water (from snow) and drink that.

Our last fire mission in the Battle of the Bulge was to support the 4th Armored Division and the 318^th Infantry of the 80^th Division, break through, and relieve the 101^st Airborne at Bastogne, Belgium. When the Battle of the Bulge ended, 81,000 allied and 125,000 Germans were dead. This battle broke the back of Hider’s army. We met only pockets of resistance after this battle. Christmas 1944 we were still in the Battle of the Bulge just outside of Bastogne, Belgium with snow knee-deep and cold as hell. We had cold K rations for dinner. I would have given anything for a hot cup of coffee and a pair of dry socks. We were hit by mortars and heavy artillery all day. I was sure it would be my last Christmas, but thank God I lived to see the New Year come in. Between Christmas 1944 and New Year’s Day 1945, we were under fire, in fact, we were being shelled continually, until the middle of February 1945, by German tanks and infantry mortars.

After February 1945, the war changed and we went on the offensive. One day when I was on guard duty, I went out to my half-track to relieve the man on guard. He couldn’t get out of the gun turret. His overcoat was wet when he got in and it froze so he couldn’t get out. The day I froze my feet, hands, and face, our half-track hit a land mine and blew the right front wheel off-—it was below zero, windy and snowing. We went into a woods looking for shelter. We didn’t find any so we cut some branches off the evergreen trees to make a windbreak. I went to sleep and when I woke up I didn’t have any feeling in my feet or hands, and my face was gray. It was daylight so we started a fire. Most of the crew had frozen parts. The fire saved us. I know several soldiers froze to death that night.

The next day we destroyed our machine guns, set fire to the half-track, then we walked until we located our outfit 633 AAA in a town. There, we got another half-track that had bad luck also, but that crew was all killed. We fixed two flat tires and we were back in action. Two days later, we helped liberate the 101^st Airborne at Bastogne, Belgium, near Pont-a-Mousson, France, on the Moselle River. We heard a very odd sound. This was the first time I saw one of Hitler’s buzz bombs. It went directly over us at about three hundred feet. It was noisy but not as bad as the German screaming meemies. They sounded like a thousand teenagers at a rock concert in a small room.

War is hell—hot and cold. Normandy was hot hell—the Battle of the Bulge was cold hell. You are always cold or hot, it is raining or snowing, you are thirsty, tired, have diarrhea, your feet are sore, you are dirty, itchy and you stink. You hurt all over and chafe, afraid because a few miles away, an enemy artilleryman is about to kill you, or just over the next hill an enemy infantryman is going to try to kill you before you kill him. Before the firefight starts you can step on a mine and blow your legs off. Your buddies are always getting injured, your hands are sore and bleeding, Ups chapped; there is no privacy. Everyday happenings are twisting an ankle, smashing a thumb in the bolt of a weapon, cutting a hand on a ration can, chipping a tooth, tearing off a fingernail trying to shore up the ceiling of your underground hold. You get rheumatism from living in wet foxholes and sleeping in cold water and mud. No one said anything about how you smelled because everyone smelled bad. These are some of the joys of combat living. Get careless and you die. Combat soldiers are very close, they will risk death to save another soldier and think nothing of it.

The last two years, 1942 and 1943, had caused real anxiety in all of us. Choices are very difficult. Many of my friends had left school to join the service–their seats are draped with the service flag. Graduation from Powhatan Point, Ohio, High School was on a very warm day in May 1943. The empty seats made each of us realize the uncertainty for what our future may hold. I graduated with a scholarship to Ohio State University in music. My first love was music, and I played the trumpet in our band. We also had a small dance band which played music throughout the Ohio Valley. What a night of celebration we all had! It was the first time I ever became drunk. When my Dad finally found me, much to my surprise, he never scolded me. I guess he was aware of the danger that laid ahead. The war was escalating, and the Germans were in control of most of Europe. Like so many young, I was ready to serve and save our country and freedom. We went to the nearest recruiting office in Bellaire, Ohio. Upon arriving there, the line was very long with high school graduates all longing for action, to fight the enemy. When my turn came, the recruiter said, “Well, son, what is your preference?” I requested Air Force but he replied “Sorry, this is infantry week, next week is Air Corp”. So I enlisted in the Infantry. Although my parents were very sad, they tried so hard to be brave and proud.

We were sent to Fort Hayes in Columbus, Ohio where we were given physical examinations. On June 18, 1943 I was shipped to Fort Benjamin Harrison in Indianapolis, Indiana, where I was assigned to the reception center. I remember a newspaper took our picture. We all looked like kids on our way to Boy Scout Camp. From there we went by train west to Camp Haan, located outside of Riverside, California, for basic training. Our training was in the desert center (Fort Irvine was gunnery range for anti-aircraft and Death Valley for maneuvers). It was hell in the heat. Some days the temperature was 120 degrees and at night it was cold. There was always a possibility of a rattlesnake curling up beside you in your sleeping bag to keep warm. For a boy from the cool hills of Ohio to 120 degrees, it was an experience beyond belief. Several of us were bitten by a rattlesnake, but we managed to survive. We became very close, and as fate would have it, we stayed together and became part of the 125th Artillery Battalion.

Occasionally we would have a pass to riverside or L.A. They would have a USO dance, which helped make the weekends more enjoyable. One weekend I even went to Phoenix, AZ with a buddy, as his home was there. Phoenix was a cow town in 1943. It had a theater, a store or two and some place to buy beer. Those days at Camp Haan weren’t all that bad. I was assigned to the Headquarters Division of the 125th AAA gun Bn. The men all became family, and many in the 125th were from the Ohio Valley area. My 1st Sergeant was George W. Barber, who was a WWI Vet. He seemed like an old man, but was probably only 43-45 years old. But we were only 17 or 18. My Captain was Dale Nix, a graduate of Texas AM and in the S2 (Intelligence). He was a rancher from Texas, and a good friend and mentor to me. Operations Officer was Captain Mark Lightfoot (S3).

When we left Camp Haan, we went to Camp Livingston at Lake Charles, LA. I knew it wouldn’t take long before we were shipped out. After several weeks there, we went to Camp Edwards outside Boston, MA. It was there that I ran into a friend from home, Henry Bindle, who had joined the Navy. We were able to spend some time together before I was shipped to England. We didn’t see each other again until 1947.

In September, 943 at the port of embarkation, I boarded the SS Mt. Vernon, a large passenger ship made into a troop ship. The voyage across the North Atlantic was rough, and most of us became seasick. We had a submarine warning, while the convoy was forming. One of the ships got hit–we saw the smoke, but never heard what happened. After about seven days, we landed in South Hampton, England. I was put on a train to the Dover area on the English Channel. The English people were very good to us. My unit was stationed at Dover in Liverpool and Folkestone. We soon learned the horrors of war.

The English had been fighting since 1939. The USA had been sending them help with equipment, etc. In 1941, when Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, the US became involved on both the Western and Eastern Fronts. The Germans were bombing London and had set up a strong defense on the Normandy coast. The English had strong Royal Artillery on the Channel area but they were glad to have help from America. Our Field Artillery had the big guns: 105mm and 90mm.

At first it was planes with bombs and then the Germans were sending VI Rockets, propelled rockets without any control called Buzz Bombs. It was our job to shoot them out of the sky before they reached London. The sound of the VI was like no other. As long as you could hear them it was ok. It was the deadly silence when fear would strike. Just before they hit their target, the motor would go out and then a loud crash and the sound of destruction. The 125th AAA Gun Bn. was set up at Folkestone on the Dover coastline. The GIs were well trained and successfully destroyed 97.8% of the VI bombs. We were credited with destroying 269 VIs.

We had to spot the bomb by radar or visualization information for a direct hit by the gun. We didn’t have calculators in those days. It all had to be done by eye and mind, calculating on a crude rangefinder. The air war went on 24 hour a day and gun crews were at their post continuously. The time in England was not all work and fighting. Most of us were 18 or 19 years old and some recreation was guaranteed. The good old American GIs ingenious nature was to make things happen. One day we improvised cowboy rodeo, with the help of Texas born Captain Nix. This was something the English had never seen. I truly treasure the pictures of Nix riding a bull at the Rodeo.

I also had taken my trumpet with me and was invited to play with a dance band organized with seven American Artillery and seven English Royal Artillery guys. We had a great band called The Ameroanglos. The band played for dances in the ballroom at Lea’s Cliff Hall in Dover. The ballroom was carved out of the chalk cliffs of Dover. The band also played for the BBC (British Broadcast network), which broadcast to the Armed Forces. Glen Miller’s band also played there when on a USO tour. In England I was very fortunate to meet Eddie and Pat Wedgwood. They became very dear friends to this day, and we keep in touch. Eddie was a member of the English Royal Artillery. At this time, even with the destruction in London, the people were great and we still had no idea of the Hell that was to come.

On June 6, 1944, General Eisenhower and the High Command decided there would be a landing on Normandy Beaches. The allies had no idea how heavily guarded the Germans had made the beachhead. They had underground bunkers with their best artillery guarding the beaches. Our stay in England ended on D-Day. The invasion of France was to begin. As we boarded the boats to take us across the English Channel, we had no idea what was to come, but each of us was very scared, as well as anxious, to fight the Germans. There was a storm that day and the water was very rough, and many became ill on the crossing. We thought the beach landing would be a piece of cake. Intelligence was not informed on how heavily enforced the beaches were by the Germans.

Rommel had done everything possible to prevent the landing: barbed wire, and mines going off in every direction. The first wave on the beach was mowed down like animals. I remember going off the front area of the boat into water up to my armpits. I had to hold my rifle above the water. Our boat couldn’t get any closer to the beach because the Germans had put tanks in the water to prevent heavy equipment getting to the beach. I remember seeing a soldier in the water. I thought he was alive, so I held on to him until we got to the shore, only to find he had been shot and most of his face was gone. As we beached under fire by the Germans, the beach water was red with blood, and dead bodies of the men who went before us were strewn all around. It was necessary to keep down and crawl over them. Finally, after many hours and cover fire from the ships that took out some German guns, and thousands of dead GIs, the beachhead was made and we were able to move forward. Many of the officers were killed. The GIs didn’t wait for orders–they did what needed to be done for the situation. It took six days to secure the beach. The Allies had a line from Utah to Juno and Omaha. Nine thousand three hundred sixty GIs were killed and five thousand bodies were never recovered at Omaha Beach.

From the beach area we fought our way to St. Lo. The Air Force had been bombing St. Lo and when we arrived, the town was destroyed, the people and Germans gone. The hedgerows were to come. The hedgerows were mounds of dirt the farmers had built as fences surrounding orchards, farms and houses. Many American died here, as the hedgerows made perfect places for the Germans to take arm. They had tunneled in the mounds and set up machine guns emplacements. The Germans had better armor then we had. The Americans had very few tanks that would navigate the hedgerows. Our tanks were like toys compared to the German tanks. It often took 4 or 5 Sherman tanks to take out a German tank. Our tanks were called “moving graves”. Finally the GIs made an adapter to the front of the tanks from junk steel welded together that acted like a snowplow. We were able to uproot the hedgerows.

The way forward was difficult, for there was a problem getting gas and needed supplies from England when the supply ships ran into trouble. On June 16th, a severe storm came to the Channel and many ships with supplies were unable to land, and some even sank. Not all went well, even with the best plans. Unfortunately, General Montgomery made his first big mistake at Caen, France in the Falaise Gap battle. Many casualties occurred when he didn’t head out of Caen. The battle through the hedgerows would not have been necessary. Montgomery took credit for the Cobra breakout, but truly it was General Bradley who was the one to make the difference on the total breakout from the beaches. General Patton was under Montgomery at this time and had to follow his command. Because of this, the German army was able to escape and retreat. They reorganized to fight later. From here we are on our way to Paris. General Patton took command. The Air Force was welcomed and did their job as expected. The Americans moved more in one day than they had in six. Now organization was put into the battles by combining air, tanks and infantry.

1944 Summer/Fall
Upon reaching the outskirts of Paris, the Americans were stopped. The Free French by General de Gaulle were to be the first to enter Paris. The Germans had left Paris without any organized resistance. They left very little damage to the city. However, there were some snipers still present August 25, 1944.

The British went forward to liberate Brussels, Belgium; we went east to Nylan, Belgium and to Antwerp, Belgium. Getting supplies to the troops became more difficult. Trucks were bringing supplies over land. The truck convoys were called “The Red Ball Express”. The roads were not good in Europe, and rain often made the roads very muddy. Also, the distance became so long, we needed another port to receive supplies. Antwerp became a very important supply route. The British fought to secure the port and we were to set up Artillery (the 125th) outside Antwerp to defend it from the VI Buzz bombs that the Germans sent. The operation was known as “Antwerp X”. It was a highly secret mission. The US Government did not allow any information out about this mission until 50 years ago, after WWII was over. During this time (September 1944) a Buzz Bomb Rocket hit a recreation theater in Antwerp. The children were watching a western movie that afternoon, and 500 died. Russ Elliot and I helped carry many of the children out. The success rate for destroying the VI rockets was 90%. But the V2 Rockets were so fast that radar couldn’t pick them up, and there was no defense.

Battle of the Bulge, December 16 1944 through January 25,1945
World War II continued in 1944 and for a rest after Antwerp X, we were sent to the Bulge area located in Ardennes, Belgium. Winter was on the way. It was said that this was the coldest winter on record for many years. The snow was so deep we could hardly walk. Many of the men had frozen feet and needed amputations. My left foot was frozen, and I was told gangrene would set in if not removed. I kept asking for one more day. By the morning of the next day, circulation began to reappear. We were to have winter clothing and boots, but for some reason the boots were for summer and not waterproof, and no winter clothing was given. ‘

Our unit was started at St. Vith. We were assigned to keep the Germans from coming to the crossroads from Houffalize and prevent the Germans from going further west. Thankfully, we had raincoats. We would sleep in our wet clothes, and most of the time in an army blanket. During this time we could not put up a tent, as there wasn’t time. We were always moving and most nights we spent in foxholes in the snow. When we had a chance, we would get into an old building.

The Ardennes forest was so dense they had to have tanks to knock down the trees to get the large artillery through. The large artillery was set up behind the line and would shoot over the line to the Germans. A B-17 crashed near us while on a bombing run. We picked up several men. All were deceased. One was a general, but at the time we didn’t know that. In combat no stars or badges were worn. If taken prisoner, you didn’t want the Germans to know your rank. Later the story was written up in The Stars and Stripes.

The weather stayed bad for days or weeks–I don’t remember which. But I do remember all the frozen feet and sleeping in the snow. Christmas Day 1944, a German jet was strafing us. It was a brand new model (ME262) jet. The attack caused multiple injuries and fatalities to our men. In the Battle of the Bulge, there were 600,000 Americans and 650,000 Germans. It was the largest land battle of WWII. Three American armies and six Corps, 81,000 GI wounded, 19,000 killed. When the weather finally permitted planes to fly, the 101st in Bastogne had supplies dropped by air.

Winter of 1944 – Spring 1945
General Patton’s 3rd Army and tanks were received with much joy, and the battle began in our favor. General Patton was held up from arriving sooner because of the weather and no gas for his tanks. My unit, the 83rd Infantry Div. 329th Infantry, was sent toward the East (Rhine River), crossing it into Czechoslovakia. The Germans knew the Americans were coming and near the town of Pilsen, the Concentration Camp of Nordhausen was liberated. The Germans guards left or wore civilian clothes so as not to be known as guards. The prisoners in the camp were not able to move, because most were too weak or too sick. Approximately 1/3 of them survived. Near the end of the war was the discovery of the Dachau Concentration Camp. Pilsen was the capital of Czechoslovakia and the prisoners were used by the Germans as slave labor. Where the underground VI Missile flying bomb assembly plant was located, the underground factory had multiple miles of tunnels. When the camps were freed, the Occupational Army took the refuges to another camp to be clothed and fed until they were healthy and able to make decisions for themselves. It was found if they were left alone they would eat and eat. Not mentally able to make a decision until the body became healthy.

After leaving this area, we went on to the Elbe River, going through the Hurtgen Forest. The combat lasted about a week to 10 days. Upon reaching the Elbe River (March 13 or 14, 1945) the crossing was made on a pontoon bridge and small boats brought by the engineers. The engineers were great craftsmen. The area was about 35 miles from Berlin. We waited for the Russians, who came on April 13, 1945. The wait was necessary, for President Roosevelt and Winston Churchill had promised Stalin (the Russian Ruler) that the Russians could take Berlin. The Germans surrendered May 8, 1945.

On September 4, 1994, on the 50th University of Antwerp X and the liberation of Antwerp, Belgium, the Belgium Government celebrated. In 1994 Col. Barkie and I, along with the help of the Veterans from the 125th Gun Bn, dedicated a monument honoring the American Artillery, which shot down 481 VI Buzz Bombs in the defense of Antwerp. The Mayor of Antwerp, Mayor Cools, and the King of Belgium did us a great honor and held a ceremony for the group of Veterans attending. I was honored to lay the wreath on the monument and received the Belgium Flag that covered our monument. It was presented to me by Mayor Cools of Antwerp. The wreath from the USA was laid by Hazel O’Leary, Secretary of Energy, who was sent by President Clinton. The third wreath was sent by the Mayor of Antwerp.

Notes

AFTER 50 YEARS, A FEARFUL INCIDENT TURNED HUMOROUS
by Sam Ballinger, 3rd Army, 26th ID, 328th IR, Co E

It was Christmas Eve at midnight, 1944, when we started out across a snow covered field to take the town of Eschdorf to relieve the pressure on Bastogne. Our squad walked up a road on the right side of town when all hell broke loose. Heavy and light German tanks painted white started running among us like fire engines looking for a fire. Three of us ducked into a barn filled with cows. The rest of my squad went to the left and took cover behind an old wooden barn. A tank’s machine gun fired right through the barn killing all nine men of my squad.

We were unnoticed in the barn until the afternoon when the three of us were moving in the barn past a large open doorway. Two white clad Germans were approaching to enter the barn. We saw them first and brought them down and dragged their bodies inside where they couldn’t be seen. From then on, all we thought of was an attack on our barn. Surely they would miss those two soldiers, but it was deathly quiet the rest of the day and through the night We survived by drinking milk from the cows and moving around to keep from freezing.

The next morning, my buddy came running to me saying, “Hurry Ballinger, they’re coming!” We all ran to that side of the barn and peered out through the cracks. There was a hedge just beyond the barn, and there they were, white forms moving down along the other side of the hedge towards the barn. They seemed to be coming after us in full force. Fear struck me, but I didn’t panic. My body was numb and my mind was frozen with the thought of being among the casualties, because they weren’t taking any prisoners. The field outside was littered with dead GI’s. I kept peering through the cracks when I saw red parts moving also. After a few seconds, I gave a sigh of relief. Being a farm boy, I realized those white forms weren’t the white clad Germans, they were white leghorn chickens scratching for food. I could have shot my buddy, Gonzales, for scaring the hell out of us.

Soon after this, a battle broke loose at the other end of town. The sky cleared and the P-47’s of the 9th Air Force were bombing and strafing anything that was a target I decided we’d better make a run for it while the enemy was busy and before they bombed our barn. We ran about 1,000 yards across a cow pasture with barb wire fences to distant woods and safety.

Of course there is more to this story about the Battle of Eschdorf, but after reading many books, I still don’t know what really happened to the rest of my Company that Christmas Day. I left the line with trench foot and spent 2 1/2 months in a hospital, and was then assigned to limited service.

Remembering World War II and the Battle of the Bulge
by Philip Walsh, 2^nd AD, 66^th AR, Co C

I was 18 years old when I got my draft notice from President Franklin Roosevelt.  It was 1943. The notice read “greetings from President Roosevelt” and went on to say I was drafted to the US Army. I had never been away from home before and I wondered if I would return home to Maine.

I was sent to Fort Devon’s, Massachusetts, for a few weeks where I received my army uniform and medical shots.  I recall walking down a narrow hallway and got shots in both of my arms. The fellow in front of me passed out after receiving his. I can still hear the guys who had already got their shots saying “you will be sorry.” They were right. They also warned me to watch out for the square needle that’s left in overnight.  I found out to my relief they were just kidding because I was a new recruit.

From there I was sent to Fort Knox, Kentucky, for 21 weeks of tank training. I remember being homesick, went to see the doctor, a major, who gave me some pink pills and said I would be fine.  I wasn’t.  I was still homesick. When our training ended we were sent to Fort George Meade, Maryland, for advanced training. Then I was sent to Camp Shanks, New York, to board the Aquitania for Europe.

I recall when we landed in Greenock, Scotland some Scottish girls greeted us and gave us muffins filled with meat. I took one bite and threw it out.  It tasted awful to me. We left Scotland by train to England.  By the time I arrived in England I was no longer homesick. It was more than 6 months since I left Maine. The war was underway, and by this time I figured I’d never get home alive.

When I was sent to France I was assigned to Company C 66 Armored Regimen, 2^nd Armored Division. Afterward I was deployed to Omaha Beach in June – six days after D-Day.  When I landed I asked the Beach Master if many men were killed. He said if anymore were killed no one would have gotten ashore. I remember one solider, in particular who landed on the beach with me. He was from the southern part of the States and was assigned to another tank because tank commander, Lt. Johnson, also from the south, picked him for his crew because of the connection to the south.

This was the first day in battle for us. Lt. Johnson’s tank was heading down a road between a row of hedges rows and ran over a mine.  The explosion blew a track off the tank. The crew climbed out of the tank, started to crawl on the ground and a mortar shell landed on the back of the soldier from the south. All that was left of him was a piece of his fly and belt buckle. It was terrifying.  Later I was told that Lt. Johnson was planning to get married in Paris after the war and arranged to have his bride’s wedding dress made from a parachute.  Unfortunately he was killed outside of Berlin at close range by one of Hitler’s Youth with a Panzer Faust bazooka after he stepped outside of his tank.

We were never told where we would be deployed or given any details.  That was one thing I didn’t like about the Army.  After Omaha Beach we were sent to another location in France. We were on the front line for 21 days with the Germans firing at us from a train with artillery guns. I remember it sounded like a freight train coming at us. Three crew members and I barely left tank for the entire 21 days. It was too dangerous to stay outside for any length of time due to the constant shelling from the Germans.  We had to be extremely careful.

The ground around the tank was all torn up from shelling and the mud was a foot thick. Every time someone left the tank they would get about two inches of mud on their boots. I remember getting mud dropped on my shoulders whenever the tank commander, a schoolteacher, climbed back into the tank after checking our surroundings. I was seated at the machine gunner’s seat and there wasn’t any room to move.  It was very tight quarters inside the tank.  I also recall when the lieutenant was injured after a shell struck the side of the tank when he was underneath trying to cook a meal with a Coleman Burner.  He was taken to the aid station.

We had an opportunity to take prisoners. Seven Germans waving a white flag tried to surrender to us. One of our crew members fired at them and they took off.

After 21 days in France we were on the move again, this time to Germany. We arrived to a location that looked like a park and were able to sleep outside on the ground. One morning when I awoke, I noticed the tank was leaking. I looked inside and saw about three inches of gasoline on the bottom of the tank.  A new replacement had changed the fuel filters incorrectly on both Cadillac engines.

Our next deployment was to Bastogne for combat at the Battle of the Bulge where I remained for the duration of the conflict. It was winter, freezing cold, and I drove an open top half track 100 miles in the pouring rain to Bastogne. Somewhere along the way I drove off the road.  I was very tired, soaking wet and it was difficult to see because there were no headlights. I accidentally backed into Captain A.Z. Owen’s tank. He hollered “get that man’s name.”  I was afraid he would send me to jail.  He didn’t do anything.

When we arrived at our destination near Bastogne we were exhausted and cold. We pitched our pup tents in the freezing temperatures and went to sleep shivering.  What amazes me now as I think back about sleeping in soaking wet, heavy Army clothes with my shoes frozen to the ground is that I never caught a cold.

Our tank was parked next to a farmhouse. The family living in the home felt sorry for us staying outside in the cold and they invited us in to dry our clothes and get warm. We stayed with them for several nights.  Unfortunately one of the soldiers flirted constantly with the homeowner’s wife. The husband got fed up and told us all to leave.

One time we liberated a couple of chickens and some vegetables from a Belgium farmhouse and I cooked it in a 5-gallon can. You cannot imagine how good this tasted on a cold day especially after living on K and K rations. It was the best chicken soup I had ever eaten. A captain from Georgia said to me, “Walsh where did you get the chickens from?” Another soldier spoke up and said he got a package from the states. This seemed to satisfy the captain who helped himself to the soup without asking any more questions.

Later during the battle I was asked to drive this same captain in a jeep to a command post set up in a house near Bastogne. When we arrived we saw the T/5 Sergeant who had flooded our tank with gas when he was assigned to our crew in France. He was on duty at the command post and did not salute the captain in my jeep. The captained yelled to the T/5 sergeant “Salute me.”  He obeyed.

When the Battle of the Bulge ended, I was deployed to Berlin. We were the first troops to arrive in Berlin after World War II ended.  I was transferred to the 12^th Armored Division and sent to Marseilles, France where I prepared to go home.  It was 1946. I am proud to have served my country, but I wouldn’t want to go through this again.

For the citizens of Assenois, the arrival of the German forces was the worst Christmas present imaginable. Assenois had little appreciable military value. It did not sit atop high ground, nor was it a highway hub like its neighbor to the north, the town of Bastogne. Its location was astride a road that linked Bastogne with the town of Remichampagne, which was south of Assenois. Other than that, it was meaningless.

One of the matriarchs of Assenois remembered those dark days. Her name was Madame Denyse de Coune, and she owned a chateau along the northern outskirts of town. With several arched gables and thick stone walls, the great house looked more like a quaint castle. Since it was a large building, it had a several cellars, and as a result, when the fighting drew closer to Assenois, many area families sought refuge under its stone walls. The shelling had started on Wednesday evening, the 20^th of December, and for the next twenty-four hours, the battle see-sawed back and forth, but by the morning of the 22^nd, the Germans were in control of Assenois and had pushed westward. For all the fighting, the cost was to the town was minor: only one civilian lay dead.

On the 23^rd, a German feldwebel (sergeant) from Vienna had approached the matriarch and asked her if they could set up an office within the chateau. Thirty minutes later, he and his staff section were gone, but another unit replaced them.  As it turned out, the staff of the 39^th Fusilier Regiment also wanted a comfortable locale for their headquarters. With its dense walls and subterranean vaults, the German volksgrenadiers had decided that it was a great spot to command and control their regiment. Oberstleutnant Walter Kaufmann, the commander of the 39^th Fusilier Regiment, and a Oberleutnant Specht, the commander of its 1^st Battalion, agreed, and they moved in once the phone lines and radio transmitters were active.

Unbeknownst to the Madame de Coune, the 39^th Fusiliers were part of a much larger operation. For several days, the 39^th, together with the rest of its division, the 26^th Volksgrenadier, had been locked in combat with the 101^st Airborne Division, trapped inside Bastogne. The Germans needed to capture the town to dissipate the traffic jams, which were clogging up their supply lines. So far, the 101^st successfully had resisted every German attempt to seize the vital road net. More important, the Germans were running out of time because Lieutenant General George S. Patton’s Third Army was pushing its way north towards Bastogne. In fact, Assenois was one of the towns that were between Patton and Bastogne.

By the 24^th, the Germans were everywhere inside the chateau, as if they had been living there for years. Even worse, the growing presence of German vehicles and troops outside the house made it a tempting target for the American P-47 Thunderbolts, flying above them like birds of prey. As evidence, one group of fighter-bombers strafed the building on Christmas Eve day, but thankfully, the sturdy walls were too much for the bullets, which bounced harmlessly off them like rain drops. Walls, though, would be useless against bombs.

That night, while everyone in the Christian world celebrated Christmas Eve, the German soldiers stole some of the chickens from the de Coune farm for their own Christmas feast. Another landser (German term for soldier), out of kindness, brought American biscuits to feed the hungry children. No doubt, the soldier had found them, since the German soldiers had little food from their own supply chain. To keep up morale, the refugees then sang Christmas carols to each other while the parents regaled their children with stories of the Comtesse de Segur, who was a Russian born, French novelist.

The following Christmas morning started out well. Mrs. Augustus de Coune baked some bread and served it with roasted chicken. As the morning dragged on, more and more refugees arrived, and they were not the only ones seeking shelter. By midday, more German soldiers showed up, demanding sanctuary from the American bombs and artillery. Hearing this, Madame Denyse de Coune shook her head in dismay because she knew the corridors were overcrowded. Someone had to go, and the German soldiers ejected her and the rest of the civilians.

Like Babylonian exiles, they grabbed whatever they could carry. Most only brought a blanket and some bread, and they left for nearby sand dunes, which had been a hideout for the resistance during the long German occupation. When they arrived, they discovered that the shelters were gone. For the next thirty hours, the refugees would be homeless. At least, thought Madame de Coune, the frozen pine trees looked like Christmas trees. That night, they slept under the stars like the shepherds outside of Bethlehem. Nearby, the Germans had set up an artillery battery, and it was firing at the American forces in Bastogne. The paratroopers replied with their own counter battery, and the rounds from the American artillery fell dangerously close to the refugees.

Meanwhile, the tankers and infantrymen of Combat Command Reserve of the 4^th Armored Division prepared themselves for combat. They had been fighting almost non-stop since the 22^nd of December, and now they were closing in on the prize – the town of Bastogne. While Madame de Coune and the other banished families huddled in the freezing cold, Lieutenant Colonel Creighton W. Abrams, the commander of the 37^th Tank Battalion, was leading a combined-arms task force. Several hours earlier, Abrams’ men had captured the town of Remoiville, which was three kilometers south of Assenois.

The following morning, the 26^th of December, Abrams began the final drive into Bastogne. First, they overran a German panzergrenadier company in Remichampagne. By noon, Abrams’ forces were just to the south of Clochimont. Only the town of Assenois was between his tankers and the beleaguered paratroopers in Bastogne. Alas, most of the inhabitants of the small village were recent arrivals from the 39^th Fusilier Regiment, ensuring that the ride through Assenois would be fraught with danger.

Outside of the town, Madame de Coune watched the beginning of Abrams’ historic assault. In preparation for the final push, P-47 Thunderbolts swept over the town, plastering it with napalm while showering the German defenders with lead from their eight, blazing .50 caliber machine guns. Explosions rocked the forest where the refugees were hiding, causing the trees to tremble and shed their snowy blankets.

After the Thunderbolts, the twenty-six exiles next watched a procession of C-47 transport planes pass over them. Then, like manna from heaven, hundreds of parachutes began to appear, as aircraft crews delivered supplies to the surrounded paratroopers. Luckily for the families, which included seventeen children, many of the para-packs were stuffed with biscuits, cheese, and best of all, chocolate. For the hungry refugees, the food lifted their morale.

The feast did not last long. Towards the end of the afternoon, Madame de Coune watched as a column of American tanks and halftracks lined up south of Assenois. Then, with guns blazing, the column snaked its way through the narrow village streets and broke through to the other side. She described the vehicles as “spitting fire.” Next, she saw the American forces push the German defenders eastward and into her neighbors’ homes. Now, it was the Americans’ turn to surround the Germans. Some fought, but most of them eventually surrendered.

By early evening, Madame de Coune reckoned the fighting was over, and she led the exiled families back into Assenois where they discovered that her home had not escaped the fighting unscathed. Four artillery shells had penetrated the roof, leaving gaping holes for the rain and snow, and the same shells shattered many of the windows. Despite this hardship, the families of Assenois were once again free.  The tankers and infantrymen of the 4^th Armored Division had liberated them.

submitted by by Leo Barron, Associate

Douglas Harvey Pvt. Antitank Platoon, 1st Battalion, Headquarters Company, 334th Regiment, 84th Infantry Division

December 20, 1944

We had just ended our first month of combat in and around Prummern, Beeck, Leiffarth, and Wurm.  These are villages in the Siegfried line North of Aachen, Germany where our casualty numbers nearly exceeded the initial number of men in the Battalion.  As we got ready to leave, December 20, 1944, it turned out to the Bulge; we thought our unit was going to a rest area to reorganize the Battalion.  Our convoy traveled for two days stopping for at least two night’s rest.  I remember spending a night in a large chateau, sleeping in what appeared to be the upper floor under the roof.  The windows in the room were of the so-called dormer type.  The large room was unfinished with the roof rafters showing.  On returning to Belgium many years later I tried to locate the building but failed.  We also slept on a concrete floor in what appeared to be a school.  Our truck traveled most of the time with the headlights on.  This made us feel that we were many miles from any action.  It also somewhat supported the rumor of going to a rest area.  We had little information at the squad level.  The road signs and village names indicated Belgium or perhaps Luxembourg.  We did not know that the German Army was charging toward us.  At the end of our two-day drive we stopped in the small Belgian village of Bourdon.  There were rumors that Germans had been seen along our route.  This I doubt as the route we traveled was North and West of the German advances.  On the way to Belgium we passed through Pallenberg, Alsdorf, Aachen, Verviers, Durbury, and then stopped in Bourdon.  At the time I never heard anything about Germans posing as GIs in rear areas.  Most history books cover this to a great extent.  There are claims that it caused much trouble.  Actually there were almost no Germans in GI uniforms; it was mostly rumor.  Even the German paratroop attack was a failure.  The closest German troops to our route were those in Hotton, probably 3 miles away.  When we arrived in Bourdon we, at least I, had no idea of why we were there or what was happening.

Bourdon in the Belgian Ardennes seemed remote, safe, and distant from all the living hell we had left a few days before.  As usual, there were more rumors than facts.  We billeted in a barn and collected rumors.  Depending on which were true the German Army was in the next town or miles away.  I don’t remember hearing gunfire but I was a very sound sleeper and could have been sleeping through any.  In fact the German Panzers were approaching Verdenne just over the hill south of Bourdon.

The afternoon of December 24th, Bob Davies and I were ordered to make up a daisy chain.  We used eight mines from the stock carried on our Dodge 6 by 6 truck.  A commandeered Belgian rope was used to connect the mines together.  Our squad leader led us to a position before the first switch back in the road leading up a hill toward woods to the southeast.  Later I found the forest up the hill between the villages of Bourdon, Verdenne, and Marenne was the location of the 116 Panzer infiltration. Our roadblock was only a short distance from the comfortable barn hayloft billet where we spent the previous night.  Orders were if attacked; let the first two tanks go by and pull the mines in front of the third tank.  Our position was in the open with no possibility of cover.  The hillside was totally bare, not even a small bush.  This was truly a mission impossible.  There were no ditches or structures within 150 yards.  Any enemy tank coming down the road would see us immediately on turning the upper switch back a short distance away.  It was possible they would have been so startled by our pluck or stupidity that they would have backed off thinking it was a trap of some kind.

Approximately a half-hour before dark a Divisional M8 Greyhound armored reconnaissance vehicle appeared from the direction of Bourdon.  An officer was waist high out of the turret hatch.  The vehicle went around the first switch back and on up the hill.  An M8 Greyhound is a six-rubber tired armored vehicle with a 37-mm gun turret.  We wondered where it was going and why.  Any way we had no information to give the officer had he asked.  It did not even slow down as it passed us and disappeared around the switch back.  Within a minute the vehicle came back around the upper switchback and down the hill with the throttle wide open.  No one was in sight and when it reached our position.  The vehicle stopped sliding all six tires.  A small part of the officer’s head appeared in the turret hatch shouting, “there are ten German tanks coming down the road, hold at all costs”.  Gears clashed and the engine roared as the vehicle disappeared down the road into Bourdon.

I learned later that the Germans were using captured M8 vehicles to lead some attack columns.  This possibility never entered our minds when we saw the vehicle coming past us.  We only had a vague idea of which way the Germans might come from.  At the time I felt Bourdon was south of Verdenne.  I had been given no map or compass; as privates our only responsibility was to take orders and follow the leader.  After the report and order from the Cavalry Lieutenant there was no doubt about the direction to the Germans.  I have determined since then that we were in the exact center of enemy’s main attack.  Orders to the 116 Panzers were to cut the Marché-Hotton Road that was to the north of our position.  In fact this road could be easily seen from our elevated position.  With heavily defended Marché on one end and Hotton on the other Verdenne and Bourdon were the logical points to attempt a breakthrough.

I have attempted to find an origin for the phrase “hold at all costs”.  I could not find any authority that traced the history of the statement.  It was used in the American Civil War and in the First World War.  I feel that almost all Officers that gave this order immediately left the area in the direction away from the enemy.  It is positively un-American to accept a suicide mission.  Suicide missions generally involve religion.  Persons volunteering for these missions feel they will get some reward in an afterlife.  Not wanting to disgrace their family or let the Emperor down was the motivation for the Kamikaze pilots in the Pacific.  I had already shown that I was not a coward, but none of the factors leading to a voluntary suicide mission applied to me.  I was not going to hold at all costs if my life was the currency.  Considering our position the only cost to the Germans would be a few machinegun cartridges.

After the M8 armored vehicle passed I quickly scouted the area for some cover.  Digging a foxhole in the possibly frozen and hard ground in the time that seemed available was out of the question.  The nearest good cover was down the hill in a railroad track siding.  There was a railroad car weighing scale pit.  Our rope was too short to reach the pit so we just stood by the side of the road and hoped for the best.  If we pulled the rope ahead of the first tank I think we would have had at least a 5% chance of one of us making the railroad pit.  If we waited for any tanks to pass the first one would have used its machinegun on us.  It was so quiet that we felt the reconnaissance officer may have just been seeing things.  We stayed on this position until well after dark but heard no tank engines and no tanks appeared.  I knew from my experience in Leiffarth, Germany that tanks could not approach undetected as the noise of the engine and the flop-flop of the treads can be heard from some distance.  The road on the hillside had two switchbacks after it came out of the woods.  We easily heard the recon-vehicle as it approached the switchback up the hill above us.

The tanks were there, as I discovered many years later, in the area now known as the Verdenne Pocket.  It is also reported in Heinz Gunther Guderian’s book, “From Normandy to the Ruhr With the 116th Panzer Division World War II” that their orders were to cut the Hotton-Marché road, which was down the hill and across the railroad track from our position.  Our two-man roadblock was the only defensive position in the way of this objective.  Since that time I have pondered reasons why an attack was not made down the hill.  The most probable is the German Commander Johannes Bayer did not want to sacrifice his men to a lost cause.  Fuel and other supplies were also a problem for the somewhat cutoff group.  I learned later that they had broken through our thinly manned foxhole line between Marché and Hotton to occupy the woods.  Also the 116 Panzer Division had driven our troops out of Verdenne.  A rifleman from one of our units described this attack to me.  Our heavy 30 caliber water-cooled machine guns were able to each fire only one round.  Water in the cooling jackets had frozen so the mechanism could not function.  The rifleman escaped down the back yards of a street in Verdenne with a enemy tank following him.  He vaulted over the back yard fences, which the tank was easily knocking down behind him.

We reported the incident of the recon-vehicle to our squad leader and as usual, he did nothing.  I will probably never know if whoever was directing our movements in this area received a report from the officer in reconnaissance vehicle.  However, the action of Company K 333 indicated they didn’t know.  As usual, the so-called fog of war was very thick.  I also do not know whether any one was on our position when Company K 333 took this road up the hill thinking it was the way to Verdenne.  A platoon from company K was assigned the task of recapturing Verdenne.  I feel sure that our antitank squad members would have told them about the reported enemy tanks up the road.  When the Platoon from Company K came on the German tanks in the woods they thought they were their support tanks to aid them in retaking Verdenne.  When one of them rapped on the side of a tank to let them know that they were ready to advance on Verdenne the answer was “Vas ist los”.  The excursion of K 333 past our position is covered in the Leinbaugh/Campbell Book.  “The Men Of Company K”.  See pages134-144

In the fight with the German tanks and their supporting infantry several of the men from K 333 were wounded.  However, most of them got back down the hill. Of course the tanks that the reconnaissance officer told us about at least six hours before were the ones found by K 333.  Why there was not better transfer of information was probably due to military protocol.  The reconnaissance officer was from some attached cavalry unit.  He would have reported to his unit commander who would report of someone in division headquarters who might possibly pass it down.  Davies and I reported it to our squad leader; we had no other possibility or responsibility.

We left the position when relieved by two others from our platoon around ten.  We told them about the reported tanks.  I feel they must have left the position, as they would have reported the possibility of German tanks up the hill.  We were relieved around two hours before K 333 men passed.  The first time I learned of the Company K 333 venture up the hill was when reading Leinbaugh’s book over 50 years after the event.

After a little sleep that night, we were awakened around midnight to prepare for the recapture of Verdenne.  We did find the correct road and entered around 0200 December 25 1944.  This road went up the hill with the woods on the left that was the location of the pocket (referred to in Guderian’s book as the hedgehog).

Guderian also reported that General Hasso Eccard von Manteuffel, head of the Fifth Panzer Army, was in Grimbiemont two miles to the southeast on December 24, 1944.  He was there to order an attack on the Marche Hotton Road.  This attack if made would have of course gone through our roadblock.

Draper reported in his book “The 84 Infantry Division in the Battle of Germany”, that the retaking of Verdenne started at 0100 25 December 1944.

“As soon as the German position was sized up a second attack was launched at 0100 25 December.”  (Draper wrongly considered the aborted excursion up the hill by K 333 as the first attack on Verdenne.  They were more than a mile away.)  Draper goes on:  “This time by the 333rd’s Company L and the 334th’s Company K, the later down to approximately 40 men.  It was now, Christmas morning. Our attack began with a heavy artillery and mortar barrage.

While shelling was still going strong, Company L entered.  The first two platoons to go in were temporarily outnumbered and were engaged from three sides.  One enemy tank began to move in close.  A rifleman S/Sgt. Edward T Reineke, took careful aim, chose the tank commander as his target, and killed him.  The tank stopped, Reineke ran toward it, jumped, dropped a grenade into the turret, and finished the job himself.  This one-man victory turned the tide.  The two platoons swept through the town and dug in on the opposite side while the rest moved to mop up.  It was dark and many Germans were left.  Another tank showed up and terrorized the town until daylight.”

When we arrived in Verdenne less than an hour after the start of the attack we saw the tank that Reineke had attacked.  From the location of the dead Commander we felt he was probably standing on top when hit.  It may have been getting ready to move or just standing there waiting for something to happen.  Reineke single-handed killed the crew and put this tank out of action.  Many have gotten a Congressional Medal of Honor for less.  Reineke did get a Silver Star for his aggressive action.  At least two Germans were dead inside the tank.  One was in the turret and the other in the machine gunners seat.  The engine was off.  I feel they were getting into the tank and were surprised by the attack.  This tank was later started and driven down toward the pocket by a GI with the intention of firing the turret gun at the German positions in the woods (the Verdenne pocket).  This never happened and later the tank was disabled by blowing off the end of the turret gun with an explosive.  Chuck Car of our platoon climbed in the tank and removed the radio and used it for listing to radio broadcasts from the US armed services network.  Later when listening to this liberated radio he was the first in our unit to hear of President Roosevelt’s death.  This same tank is pictured in publications covering the 1944 battle in and around Verdenne.  the Book was published as part of the 50-year commemoration held in and around Verdenne.

I still don’t know what our mission was during the attack on Verdenne.  We were an antitank unit, but were not called on to fight the tank that Draper’s book indicated was terrorizing the town that early a.m. of Christmas day.  As usual the rifle platoon leader was not told of our presence.  I felt at the time that the German Troops did not expect any action on Christmas and were possibly partying.  A lot of prisoners were taken during the 25th and we helped in searching and guarding them.  By midday our trucks brought up our 57-mm antitank guns and the trucks were used to transport prisoners to Bourdon.  The road from Verdenne to Bourdon passed near the woods occupied by the Germans, the so-called Verdenne pocket.  Each time we drove the road we were fired on by automatic weapons.  The trips were made after dark and no one was hit.

During the 25 and 26 December most of the Antitank Platoon were in Verdenne on the North side of town.  Unknown to us at the time, we were only yards from the Verdenne Castle and the battles around it.  Sometime in the afternoon of the 26 a German tank was reported as crossing the field southeast of Verdenne.  The time agrees with the German Task Force Bayer’s breakout from the pocket at 1800 hours.

One of the tanks turning right (southwest) was most likely the one reported to us.  Our support tanks (Shermans) refused to go southeast down the street to engage the German tank, a Mark IV.  Several from the antitank platoon, myself included, volunteered to push our 57mm gun down the street and fire on the tank.  We moved our gun around 100 yards to a point where the tank was in sight in the open field to the south.  For some reason it had stopped, perhaps it was out of fuel or had mechanical problems.  We set the gun trails on the hard surface street and aimed the gun.  Several looked through the telescopic sight.  I found a stick to fire the shell as without the trails dug in the gun jumps back several feet from the recoil.  A 57mm antitank gun is usually fired from a kneeling position.  Elevation is by a crank screw and direction from a shoulder frame.  Sergeant Cable was about to fire the gun kneeling as I approached with the stick shouting to get back, don’t fire it that way it will back over you.  I think then he realized what would happen and moved clear.  I hit the firing pad with the stick and the gun jumped at least six feet back from the recoil.  Immediately, the view of the tank was obscured by a dust cloud from the muzzle blast.  One of the riflemen watching from across the street shouted, “You hit it, you hit it”.  Several more shots were registered on the tank from our gun.  Then one of our Shermans came roaring down the street fired a round as it came to a stop and then backed rapidly up the street.  It was the tank that refused to engage the German tank earlier.  I’m sure it reported that it knocked out the tank.

The crew of our gun all received Bronze Star awards for hitting the tank.  The citation read as follows:

“For meritorious service in connection with military operations against the enemy in Belgium, December 26, 1944. As a member of a gun crew occupying a position from which effective fire could not be placed on an enemy tank which was firing on friendly forces, Private First Class Harvey, completely disregarding his own safety, in full view of the enemy and under direct fire, together with four other soldiers, moved an anti-tank gun by hand a distance of approximately 50 yards and from this new position delivered fire which destroyed the enemy tank.  The dauntless, daring action, disdain for danger and exemplary conduct displayed by Private First Class Harvey enabled his unit to continue its advance and reflect the highest credit upon himself and the service of the United States.”

We were not fired on and I felt other actions that I was in were more worthy of the award.  The German tanks that retreated that day had to pass through our defense, which was essentially an ambush.  In our sector Hitler’s “Wacht Am Rhein” was stopped and had had gone on the defense.

References:

Draper “The 84th Infantry Division in The Battle of Germany”, The Viking Press, New York, 1946.

Leinbaugh/Campbell “The Men Of Company K” William Morrow and Company, New York, 1985.

Guderian “From Normandy to the Ruhr With the 116th Panzer Division World War II” English Translation, The Aberjona Press, Bedford, Pennsylvania, 2001.

click here to read my story

On Christmas 1944, Gus Epple was at the wheel of an Army Jeep, stuck in a traffic jam many miles long leading to the German lines. Dysentery forced the 19-year-old to abandon his Jeep every 15 minutes to relieve himself along the side of the road. Each time, he trudged through the snow and wrestled with an overcoat, field jacket, two layers of uniform pants and longjohns worn against the bitter cold. That night, his unit started a fire in their stove, a more compact version of a Coleman, to keep warm. Their folly quickly became apparent.

“You couldn’t believe how brilliant that little gas stove was,” said Epple, now an 88-year-old living in Cape May Court House. “We left it on for five or 10 seconds and shut it down again. It could’ve given away the position of the entire convoy.” Epple was one of an estimated 610,000 Americans who served during the Battle of the Bulge, Adolph Hitler’s last major offensive of World War II. By the end of fighting, which began Dec. 16 and ended Jan. 25, 1945, about 81,000 would die. Germany would surrender just more than four months later. And that year became the “winter without a Christmas” for the soldiers who returned home.

Decades later, however, Epple and a group of local vets have banded together due to their shared experience. Their numbers have dwindled and some are now confined to nursing homes, but a hearty few still unite throughout the year, most poignantly at Christmastime. They are the brothers of the Bulge.

It all started in 1999, when a couple of veterans — both deceased now — organized a luncheon for a local chapter of the national Veterans of the Battle of the Bulge. At the time, the quarterly meetings attracted a group of about 50 said the 88-year-old Army rifleman. “There’s a common bond there that means something to us.” The Cape May Court House resident, who lives near Epple, spent Christmas 1944 south of Bastogne in Belgium. The days run together in memory, but he was probably in a foxhole, hoping German soldiers didn’t stumble upon his position.

When possible, Umbenhauer would try to dig a trench to lie in, but one night it wasn’t possible. Instead, three soldiers huddled together in a snow bank, their warmth and body weight creating a depression in the snow. “I was just lying there in the snow. Several miles away I could hear German Panzer tanks driving back and forth,” he said. “If they decided to come after us, I wouldn’t be here — we were totally unprotected.”

Umbenhauer joined the local group several years after it formed, after reading about it in the newspaper. One of the members mentioned the 8th Armored Division. “Hey—that’s my division,” he said. Many of the members’ experiences intersect. For instance, Ewing Roddy, another survivor, was a machine gunner who flew six missions over the course of the battle. “I like to say they were fighting the Germans on the ground while I was fighting above ground,” Roddy said. The 89-year-old now lives in a Linwood nursing home with his wife, but he tries to make the group’s annual Christmas luncheon — on Wednesday this year — and stays in touch with other veterans, sharing news and remembrances.

Like most groups, Epple said, the Bulge veterans’ numbers have dwindled with time. Today, about five of them still meet regularly, with several more attending when their health or transportation allows.And Umbenhauer said the remaining active members are always on the lookout for new blood. “If they find a veteran from the Battle of the Bulge, they practically drag you to the meeting,” he said, with a laugh. He knows from personal experience, of course.

But a funny thing happened in recent years. Although the ranks of actual veterans have diminished, the group has welcomed relatives of deceased Bulge vets and soldiers from other battles and conflicts. The group’s current president, 70-year-old Ed Steinberg, was a New Jersey Army National Guard reservist — he responded to the Newark riots of 1967 — and the son of a Bulge vet who died in 1992. His own father, Albert, was close-lipped about his experiences, but Steinberg enjoys hearing the experiences of other World War II vets. “I would rather connect and sit down with these guys than people of my own generation,” he said.

Steinberg, who lives in the Rio Grande section of Middle Township, took over when Epple needed a break from the constant scheduling duties. “I was sort of hoping it would just fold and we’d quit,” Epple said. “I didn’t think it would last this long.” But Epple added that there’s real value in continuing the legacy of the Battle of the Bulge, and remembering the Christmas that never was.

During the battle, Epple and the rest of the soldiers were eventually ordered to abandon their overcoats because they could be too cumbersome if they had to run. Most of the Germans kept their coats. Epple remembers one fled as his crew fired mortars around him. “I’d never seen such a sight,” he said. “Trailing out the back of him was the overcoat. He must’ve gone at a pretty good speed.”

Umbenhauer said he likes to tell people that he spent that Christmas in a foxhole singing “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas.” Of course, that quip doesn’t reflect the reality he and many of his friends lived that day. They already had more than enough snow. “For us, it was another night,” he said. “We couldn’t help but think about Christmas, but for us it was another unpleasant night.”

by Wallace McKelvey, Staff Writer
Atlantic City Press, NJ

http://www.pressofatlanticcity.com/communities/lower_capemay/battle-of-the-bulge-veterans-remember-winter-without-a-christmas/article_102460e0-659f-11e3-a641-0019bb2963f4.html

THE BULGE

The first sign of something big that was on the menu began on December 19^th at the
noon-day meal.
Our Colonel of the 39 Signal Company was looking for wire – one hundred miles by the reel.
We six truck drivers were called aside for a ride to the airport in Metz,a waste of time with no answers to the Colonel’s request.

Back at the barracks, a headquarters’ lieutenant had news of a German breakthrough in our defensive line.
From December 16^th into the 23^rd Nazi tanks and infantry had successful time.
The 106^th and 28^th Infantries felt the heat of this punch taking the brunt of a fall
A forty mile trek was the result of the German’s call.

We drivers were on the road again for a blackout ride to a depot for that wire,
Communications for the 20^th Infantry Division were dependent mile reels for orders
given at Headquarters’ desire.
Sixteen miles per truck were secured before the slow drive back
A twenty mile drive without directions in the murky black.

Over coffee we heard our objective to stop the Germans was Bastogne, a city that had been reached that day,
Bastogne would become famous whenever the term “The Bulge” came into play.
After four hours sleep by eight AM, we started a seventy mile trek, mostly bumper to bumper for most of the way.

If Hitler had only known for forty road-clogged miles the U.S. 3^rd Army was moving with General Patton, the top Command,
He’d show those S.O.B.s how this three division force would change the German’s battle plan.

It was stop and go through the towns of northern France with villagers showering us with schnapps, cookies and pie,
An early Christmas greeting before the snows descended upon us in the Ardennes from a darker sky.

On December 22^nd the 26 Infantry Division met the German panzers near Grosbus, the southern flank’s first forces connection,
Then a steady pursuit through Eschdorf and over the Sur River toward Wiltz, the Division’s objective.

The Bulge by mid-January had made the Wiehrmacht into a crippled disaster in theEuropean west,
After five years of Nazi domination the Americans at the Bulge put their battle
superiority to rest.
The United States’ fighting forces stepped in the mantel of equality and justice for all
showed the world our way of life is still the best.

Jacob G. Zimmerer 39^th Signal Company 26^th Infantry Division

I feel like a lucky bystander, being a target several times, but always missed. I thank God for bringing me home safely. The following are excerpts taken from my WWII Memoirs written in 2004 for the Veterans’ History Project at the Library of Congress, Washington DC. Operation. Nordwind was the last major German assault, roughly two weeks after Dec.16.

After Basic Training and a furlough at home in San Antonio, Texas, I was sent to Europe with 5,000 others on the Queen Mary, converted into a troopship, leaving New York on Columbus Day, 1944. After about one month in Replacement Depots in England and France, I was in the 44^th Infantry Division Replacement Depot in an orchard near Luneville, in Alsace France. It rained much of every day, making the ground very muddy. My combat boots were always wet and my feet were swollen.

On November 19^th at assembly an officer called for everyone having trouble with their feet to step forward. The eight of us who responded were assigned to KP duty in the 44^th Division headquarters kitchen, in Luneville.  This got us out of the mud and rain and our feet improved rapidly. Being on KP while preparing and serving Thanksgiving dinner had both advantages and disadvantages. Just before Thanksgiving the 44^th Division liberated the city of Saarbourg. After serving Thanksgiving Day dinner, the headquarters, including the kitchen and KPs relocated to Saarbourg, on the Saar River, Nov. 24^th. The kitchen, supply depot and post office were all located in the Saarburg Town Hall, where we slept on the floor.

One night the replacements with whom I would have been, if not on KP, were quartered in another building and were killed by a shell from long range German artillery. (I never complained about KP after that.) The KP detail were issued a new shoe type, shoe-packs, consisting of a rubber bottom shell which turned up to be sewn to the leather top, supposedly to keep our feet drier; they were at least two sizes too wide for my size 11AA feet, requiring me to wear both pairs of wool and cotton socks (all four pair I was issued) at the same time, in an attempt to fill up the shoes. This left me with no change of socks to dry out.

After two weeks on KP, Dec. 5, 1944, I left the 44^th Division Headquarters kitchen by truck to be assigned to a rifle company. As we entered a small village Northeast of Saarbourg, a German fighter plane strafed the two-truck convoy I was in. We all bailed out of the trucks and headed for the shelter of the buildings.  No one was hit, and the plane did not make a second pass. About 30 minutes later in the next town, Sarralbe, I was introduced to the 1st Platoon, Co. G., 2nd Battalion, 71st Infantry Regiment. I was replacing one of the two casualties, which they suffered in combat during the previous week. I spent that night with the rest of my squad, sleeping on the concrete floor of one of the houses in the small town. This would be as good as it got for the next month, except when we were lucky enough to sleep in a barn, on hay.

We marched from town to town, in a northeasterly direction, with the Germans retreating, offering only occasional resistance. One day we advanced toward a town about 1/2 mile ahead. Two P-47 Thunderbolts dived over the town and dropped bombs, probably on German tanks in the town. They flew around and started a strafing run, with the second plane close behind and to the right of the first. I commented “They’re too close together” and a couple of seconds later the first plane was hit, went up and to the right, into the path of the second plane. They both went down, killing both pilots. I didn’t know at the time that these would be the only deaths I saw in WWII, and I really couldn’t see the pilots at that distance.

Another regiment of the 44^th Division was the first U.S. unit to reach, and send a patrol across the Rhine River when they and a French Division captured the Alsacian city of Strasbourg. The 44^th Division commander wanted to cross the Rhine and advance north along the east bank of the river, cutting off the German army’s retreat. But our supply lines, already too long, would have been unable to keep up, leaving the 44^th Division stranded behind enemy lines.

Our advance was turned  toward the back side of the French Maginot Line, near the German border, at the Ensemble de Bitche. These pill-box forts protected each other with overlapping fire and were supported by military farms which had supplied food and dairy products. On Dec. 14^th the Battalion made an afternoon Infantry assault on the masonry buildings of the Freudenberg military farm, defended by German snipers and mortars. We took all buildings of the farm, with no casualties that I knew of. The pill boxes of the Maginot Line, just a hundred yards or so beyond the farm buildings, were shelled repeatedly by our 105mm and 155mm artillery, only occasionally chipping off very small pieces of concrete. This artillery barrage continued for two days, supplemented by an air strike of fighters dropping 500 pound bombs, still only chipping small pieces off the concrete.

Early in the morning of Dec 17^th our squad attacked the pillbox nearest to the farm, receiving machine gun fire from the left flank where I was assigned. The Kraut bullets were falling short, but kicking dirt onto my shoulders and helmet as I was lying flat on the ground. I couldn’t see the other pillbox because of a low ground fog. Two old German soldiers, about the age of my grandfather, surrendered the pillbox after a smoke bomb and a fragmentation grenade were dropped down the air vent. Our platoon sniper, with his Springfield bolt-action rifle & scope, climbed into the steel turret of the pill box and shot several Germans who attempted a counter-attack.

G Company went into reserve, and celebrated Christmas in Saarguemines, France, a city at the German border. The town had been liberated from the Germans, only during the previous week by the Third Army. We were quartered in homes with the French families.  The family living in the two-story house my squad was assigned to spoke no English and none of us spoke any French or German. They weren’t too happy about our taking over their home. On Christmas Eve we started singing Christmas carols, beginning with “Silent Night”; but because that was a German carol the French family didn’t look too happy about it. But “O Come All Ye Faithful” became their “Adeste Fidelis” and they joined in, singing in Latin. Because I had taken Latin in high school and had learned Adeste Fidelis, I switched to the Latin words and the French family really beamed with joy, we were now mon ami !

A turkey dinner on Christmas Day was served from kitchen jeep-drawn trailers in the middle of the street, with the temperature in the 30s, with no sun. The watching civilians thought our white bread was cake. All parts of the meal went into our mess gear, the roast turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, gravy, carrots, greens, with apple pie on top of it all. We enjoyed it anyway, since it was much better than the usual C rations. What little was discarded in garbage cans was sought after by the civilians who had little to eat. After eating Christmas dinner, that evening we moved back to the front.

Operation Nordwind:

After taking pillboxes of the Maginot Line, the mission of the 44^th Infantry Division was changed from offensive to setting up new defensive positions about ten miles West. When the Battle of the Bulge started on December 16, 1944, many units of the Third Army were moved from the left flank of the Seventh Army to rush to Bastogne to stop the German advance. The Seventh Army spread out to the West to fill the vacancy left by the Third Army’s move. The Seventh was now occupying much of a two army front, with only two thirds the number of Divisions which had been there just a day before. Each division defended over a 15 mile wide front.     A cold front brought bitter cold and snow to the Vosges Mountains in northern Alsace just after Christmas. The ground was frozen, under about a foot of snow, making it almost impossible to dig a foxhole with only our entrenching tools. It was well below freezing during the day and near zero during the nights, with a strong North wind.

The 2nd Battalion was spread thin along the border, across what should have been a regimental front, with almost everyone on the line, along a series of ridges overlooking the France-Germany border. Our intelligence warned us that a German attack in force was probable. Unlike the Huertgen Forest assault, where the Germans did not use radio communications when building up their forces, they did use radio when assembling units for Operation Nordwind and we were expecting the assault.

On the morning of Dec. 31^st, from Brandenfingerhof Farm, 12 men of the First Platoon of Company G were sent as an outpost near Obergailbach near the border with Germany, on the battalion’s forward left flank, in existing fox holes about 100 feet apart along a thin hedgerow, with my hole on the open left flank; about 150 feet farther to the left was a reconnaissance jeep with a radio and 50 caliber air-cooled machine gun. We were probably at least 300 yards in front of the nearest U.S. forces. Each foxhole had 2 riflemen and a third with an automatic weapon, either a BAR or a submachine gun.

In the afternoon I was assigned to a 4-man patrol to see if the Germans had evacuated the town of Obergailbach, behind the ridge in front of us. The patrol found no German soldiers in the town, only civilians. Back in our foxhole we ate our dinner K rations, which included a can of beef & pork loaf with carrot and apple flakes, and a bar of dark chocolate. I shaved the chocolate bar into tiny flakes onto a piece of paper to make hot chocolate the next morning. It got dark about 1630 (4:30pm) and daylight around 7:00am.

About 2200 (10:00 PM) we could hear a train enter Obergailbach, behind the ridge in front of us. With the wind blowing from the North, the frigid air carried the sounds of German commands, whistles, etc. as they unloaded troops and marched up into the woods on the ridge about 300 yards in front of us.

After all units had reached the ridge, our artillery opened up on the woods with continuous fire for what seemed like about an hour, then, as the Germans advanced out of the woods, at about 2345, the artillery followed them with high explosive and white phosphorus shells which lit up the hillside, creating quite a fireworks display for a New Years Eve celebration!  We could not see the enemy, who were dressed in white against the snow, but their use of tracer ammunition gave their positions away, bringing more U.S. artillery fire. Just as dawn was breaking the reconnaissance jeep fired several machine gun bursts and after a few quick words on their radio, they pulled back. We hadn’t seen anything to shoot at. There was frequent U.S. rifle, BAR and machine gun fire over 300 yards to our right-rear, coming from F Company’s area, but from our 3-man foxhole we saw no positive enemy target within range to shoot at with our BAR, grenade launcher and M-1 rifles, and none of the other members of the outpost had fired their weapons, even as daybreak illuminated the valley before us.

A couple of short bursts from a German machine pistol, or “burp-gun”, several 100 feet behind us, was our first indication the Germans had gotten behind our outpost. About that time Sergeant Gasperino ran up behind our hole yelling to follow him, the outpost had been pulled back over 15 minutes earlier, but the orders hadn’t been passed on to us in the last foxhole. I grabbed my M-1, with its grenade launcher, and grenades and took off, cussing because some @#$%&#$ German soldier was going to get my chocolate bar shavings which were left behind! As we ran in retreat through a wooded area we heard another burst from the machine pistol, but we were not hit, and we returned the thousand yards back to Brandenfingerhof Farm.

We later learned that, as part of “Operation Nordwind” a full regiment of the 17^th SS Panzer Grenadier Division had attacked our Second Battalion front, attempting to reach Saarbourg and Nancy, the railhead about 50 miles to our rear.  Over half of the Germans were killed or wounded by the artillery barrage before they even started the attack on that first night. Our artillery had just been issued proximity fused shells which, instead of hitting the ground before exploding and having little effect on prone soldiers, exploded at about 30 feet above the ground, spraying shrapnel down onto the prone soldiers. The U.S. 44^th Division was attacked by the 17^th SS Panzer Grenadier Division, 36^th Volks Grenadier Division and 19^th Volks Grenadier Division. New faster firing machine guns and semi-automatic assault rifles had been issued to the German units. Operation Nordwind, ordered by Hitler as a follow-up of their Heurtgen Forest breakthrough, involved about 15 German divisions against six U. S. divisions and one French division along a front extending along the French-German border from Saarguemines east to the Rhine River and south along the Rhine passed Strasbourg to near Colmar.

We moved to defensive positions, a secondary line of resistance, behind E and F Company and H Company, which caught the main force of the German attack, with E and F Company withdrawing and elements of H Company being surrounded. Other platoons of G Company had been moved up to help F Company during the night. With attacks and counterattacks, using tanks and other armored vehicles, by both sides, the battle moved back and forth during most of January 1^st. U. S. machine guns, mortars and artillery killed and wounded several hundred Germans, with U.S. battalion losses less than two dozen killed or wounded.

We marched back to Moronville Farm. The First Platoon joined a force of at least 100 men of G Company, six 81mm mortars from H Company, with three Sherman tanks and three tank destroyers in support, defending the Moronville farm compound, consisting of two-story buildings continuous around a square, about 200 feet across, with gates on opposite sides. Many families lived here, with each living quarters next to their barn, with hay stored on the concrete second floor. F Company was driven back to the farm by repeated German attacks. The Germans attacked the farm after midnight, setting the hay in the buildings on fire with their tracers, 20mm cannon  and mortars. The second floors of the whole community was on fire when we were ordered to pull out; my squad was assigned to accompany the last two tanks who covered the retreat. We were warned as we climbed aboard, not to touch the tanks with bare hands, only gloves, because our skin would freeze to the cold metal. We moved back to a new line of resistance about 800 yards south of Moronville Farm.

In the afternoon of Jan. 2^nd, the First Platoon, with support from two tanks and a tank destroyer (with 90mm gun), retook a ridge overlooking the town of Gros Rederching, which the 44^th Division  had previously taken but was now occupied by the Germans.  Several foxholes had been dug along the bare ridge; three German soldiers jumped out of one hole and ran down the other face of the ridge, with about 5 of the nearest GIs firing quickly at them but there were no hits. The other holes were empty. We spread across the top of the ridge, using available holes, but all I could find on the left flank was a shallow shell hole, not more than 8 inches deep in the center.  An L-1 artillery spotter plane hovered overhead to direct artillery fire onto resistance from the town.  Sporadic rifle fire came from the town, about 200 yards away in the valley.  We were ordered to return the fire, without any specific targets.  I fired three rounds at various windows, selected at random (the only shots I fired during the war).  The Germans ran a rolling mortar barrage from one end of the ridge to the other and back again, with shells hitting about 50 feet apart.  They got closer and the next one would be very close; I heard it coming in, but with an unusual fluttering sound. Instead of coming in straight it was spinning end over end. It landed within three feet of my head, kicking dirt and snow over me from the impact, but it did not explode! Every other shell in the barrage had exploded on impact with the ground.. When the barrage ended we pulled back off the ridge, apparently with no one injured. My feet hurt from blisters on my heels as we marched back to our line of resistance.

My squad spent that night in a snow covered clearing, in deep fox holes which had been dug by a supporting artillery unit; they and their guns had been pulled back to a safer location. The bottoms of the holes had been lined with empty brass 105mm shell casings, which offered a little protection from the icy bottom of the holes, that is until the ice broke, the shell casings sank and our shoes were 4 inches into the icy water. It was really hard to get to sleep standing up, with cold, wet feet I could hardly feel the blisters on my heels.

The next morning, Jan. 3^rd,  I complained to Sergeant Gasperino of the blisters on my heels where all four socks on each foot had worn through (the seam between the rubber bottom and the leather top of the shoepacks was in a bad location). He sent me to the aid station in Rimling, about a 1/4 mile walk. As they treated my blistered heels I asked where I could get more socks.  The medic answered, “In the hospital; you have trench foot,” and put me on a stretcher and into an ambulance with another trench foot and two yellow jaundice cases. During this period the U. S. forces had more casualties from trench foot and yellow jaundice than from enemy action.

During the night of Jan. 3rd, F Co. was moving into Gros Rederching, then thought to be held by the French, when the Germans in the town opened fire. Before the Americans could withdraw several G.I.s were hit and were carried out, but in the confusion in the dark several Germans fell into line with the withdrawing Americans and were captured.         The 71^st Infantry Regiment and the 44^th Division had stopped the units of Nordwind that hit us, but U.S. divisions to the east and along the Rhine River were pushed back from 10 to 20 miles. Three U.S. Divisions which had just arrived in Europe and had no battle experience were fighting back and forth almost continuously, inside towns [sometimes with U.S. troops and German troops occupying different parts of the same building overnight] and through woods and open fields, with infantry, tanks and artillery, suffering high casualties on both sides, for over three weeks before the Nordwind assault in their areas was finally defeated. Sometime years after the war the Nordwind offensive, and the Seventh Army resistance to it in Alsace was added to the Huertgen Forest (Battle of the Bulge) campaign star, to be added to the ETO/ North Africa Theater Medal ribbon.

I spent the next five weeks in the 21^st General Hospital in Mirrecourt, France, recovering from trenchfoot, which is a breakdown of tissue cells from being cold and wet over a period of several days or more. Usually it can be prevented by daily drying and warming the feet and then putting on dry socks. Because my shoepacks were so oversize that I had to wear all four pair of socks there was no way to dry them out when I was wearing them, and during the last several days there was no opportunity to go without my shoepacks on my feet.. In the hospital I got warm, in addition to getting my first shower and haircut since leaving the United States, almost three months earlier.

by (Pfc) Harold L. Eiserloh, 1st Ptn, Co G, 71st Inf. Regt, 44th Inf. Div., 7th U.S. Army.

Some books about the resistance of U. S. Seventh Army forces against Operation Nordwind in the Vosges Mountains of Alsace, France: 

The Final Crisis-Combat in Northern Alsace, January 1945 by Richard Engler, 1999. The Aberjona Press, Bedford PA.     

When the Odds Were Even – The Vosges Mountains Campaign, October 1944-January 1945  by Keith E. Bonn, 1994. Presidio Press, Navato CA     

Ordeal in the Vosges by Donald C. Pence and Eugene J. Peterson (Out of print)

Happy New Year Yankee Bastards By Vincent Priore, MSgt., F Co.,71st Inf. Rgt.,44th Inf.Div. (Out of print). 

The information contained has been corrected and redrafted from the original to correct spelling, formatting, grammar and usage from the original whose creator is unknown to me. Therefore any information contained in this account may or may not be factual however it is believed by me to be true and accurate. Dec 20, 2013.

Officially we got our start as an army unit on May 1, 1943, at Camp Bowie, Texas. We, of course, mean the men of the 838th Ordnance Depot Company. By the first of June most of the men had assembled from their various induction stations. We found it rather hot in Texas, but we didn’t realize then just how hot it could get under a Texas sun. During the next thirteen weeks we did more sweating than ever done in our lives. Yes, we had thirteen weeks of Basic Training with all the trimmings.

By the middle of September we were hard at work operating a depot at Camp Bowie and servicing Third Army units. Two months later, November 13, 1943, we left Camp Bowie, Texas for the Louisiana Maneuver Area, now known as Fort Polk. The work that followed, the 838th company endured three months of cold, rain, mud, etc., while participating in maneuver problems. For one month after, training ended the 838th company operated a Base Depot at Camp Polk, Louisiana. By this time we were good overseas material and were placed on alert for movement on March 13, 1944.

On March 30, 1944, eleven months after activation, the organization departed from Camp Polk for Camp Kilmer, N.J. late in the evening of Easter Sunday, 1944, we boarded the ocean liner “Queen Mary” and the following morning we saw the last of the Statue ‘ of Liberty as we sailed out of the harbor into the Atlantic Ocean.  The trip overseas was uneventful except for a little rough weather, then April 16 1944 early in the evening we dropped anchor in the Firth of Clyde, Scotland. The next morning we were deployed ashore at Greenock, Scotland, where we boarded a train bound for England.

Late that -night we arrived at Camp Northway, As-church Gloucestershire, England. While in England we were assigned to provide Services of Supply and worked at the U.S. General Depot G-25, Ordnance Supply Section. The work was hard and the hours long but now and then we got a day off and so were able to see some of England’s scenery.

On June 2, 1944, we were relieved from Services of Supply assignment and assigned to the Third United States Army although we did not leave G-25 and Northway behind us until July 19 when we went to Stanton, England. Once in Stanton, England the 838^th et al began to prepare for movement to the Continent. Our convoy left Stanton, England on August 2, 1944 en route to the marshalling area two days later on August 4, 1944 all units embarked from Weymouth, England. August 5 1944 part of the organization arrived in France and the rest August 6, 1944.

We landed on Utah Beach and proceeded on to our first bivouac area near Bricquebec, France. We followed the fast movement of the Third Army across France and were on the jump most of the time until we moved into Nancy, France, where we stayed for nearly six weeks, leaving on November 15, 1944.

After several more moves in France, the combined units crossed the border into Belgium and ‘set up at Athus, Belgium Christmas Eve 1944. We all made many friends during our stay in Belgium; we were treated royally by the Belgian people.

However, January 19, 1945 found us on our way again, this time into Luxembourg. We made several moves through this small Duchy, “a village ruled by a Duke or Duchess” and on March 14, 1945, we entered Germany. Our first stop in conquered territory was at the City of Trier, Germany.

The 838^th et al, moved on across Germany, crossing the Rhine on March 28, and finally bivouacking near the village of Cham-rôles, on April 29, 1945. It was while there that we received the official news that the European War had ended, and we began to dream wildly of coming home.

On May 24, 1945 we moved into German barracks at deggendorf, Germany, apparently to operate a depot there. Our stay here did not last long, however, because early in June 1945 we were again alerted for movement somewhere-whether home or the Pacific we did not know. Finally we received the great news that we were on our way home for a thirty day furlough.

Finally on June 1945 we left Germany by train, arriving at Camp Twenty Grand in France on June 20, 1945. While we there the 838^th company went through the necessary processing for shipment stateside. It was a great feeling to handle good U. S. money instead of the foreign “wallpaper” we had been using for so long.

On June 27, 1945 the 838^th et al organization boarded trucks and was transported to Le Havre where the Liberty Ship “Trist ram Dalton” is moored waiting our arrival. We sailed that day from Le Havre and spent many days looking at nothing but water. On July 9, 1945 we saw the good old U. S. A.

So, after fifteen months away from our native land we again set foot on its soil on July 10, 1945, and were taken to Camp Shanks, N. Y. Our processing there included a fine steak dinner with all the trimmings and we all did it justice. Our furlough papers were most welcome but the most welcome news of all was the end of the Pacific War which came while we were on furlough. Twenty-one months after leaving Camp Bowie, Texas, we again assembled there to await further orders.

The 838th Ordnance Depot Company was officially Deactivated at Camp Bowie Texas, October 19, 1945.

Submitted by Ronald J. Regan, Associate, in Memory of George W. Schemanske, 838th Ordnance Depot Co) Deceased 11 Nov 2013 95 YOA.

College Bound, Sept 1943-March 1944
by Sheldon Tauben, 75th ID, 289th IR, 2nd Bn HQ

A precursor to the post war “G.I. Bill/’ that remarkable and exemplary legislation that enabled veterans to obtain low-cost home mortgages and gave thousands the opportunity to secure a free college education, the US Army, in the summer of 1943, began a new educational endeavor, “The Army Specialized Training Program.” With its distinctive shoulder patch, a gold oil lamp of knowledge on a blue background, this special unit directed thousands of soldiers fresh from basic infantry training including air force cadets washed out of flight school and other services, to collection depots for testing and eventual assignment to colleges and universities throughout the United States.

The Citadel, a military school in South Carolina renown for its officer training and tracing a proud heritage back to the early 1800’s, was the major depot in the Eastern United States. All of the soldiers selected for this assignment had one thing in common- an “AGCT” score of 130 or higher. Upon entering the service each person underwent an extensive written examination with the final score prominently entered on his manila service file. The “Army General Classification Test” was an I.Q. exam used to direct personnel into jobs (MOS) or military occupation specialty that would be most appropriate for his on her level of intellectual ability. I had just completed 15 weeks of basic training at Seymour Johnson Field (Air Force) in Goldsboro, NC when I received orders to report to the administration center at the Citadel for further assignment.

After a week or so of inactivity (we did some sight-seeing in Charleston, SC) everyone received new orders directing them to any of the dozens of educational institutions within the program. By luck of the draw I was assigned to the Polytechnic Institute of Brooklyn, a renowned school of engineering located in the heart of downtown Brooklyn. A few days later I arrived in Brooklyn just in time to begin the fall term in September Of 1943. We were housed in the Fort Green housing project, a brand new Federal low cost development and were the first tenants. Bunker beds, desks, chairs and bookcases were provided-two men to a room. If not for the G.I. uniforms, it appeared much like a typical college dormitory. But the comparison ended just there. This was a military unit and run by the book.

6:00 a.m. reveille followed by formation in ranks by battalion in the courtyard, roll call and then dismissal for breakfast. 7:00 a.m. we formed up again by battalion and marched off in a sprightly military manner, each “student” carrying an over-the-shoulder mussette bag-books! Our route took us from the project down Schermerhorn Street and then to 99 Livingston where we lined up in the street in front of Polytechnic some 25 minutes later. Initially, it was a novelty to early morning Brooklynites and we were observed closely. Who doesn’t love a parade?

Formations broke up as we headed to our assigned classrooms for lectures in the usual freshman engineering curriculum plus some liberal arts courses in English, History and Geography. At 12 noon the entire unit again fell into ranks and marched back to the project for lunch. By 2 p.m. we were back at school ending the day with a 5:30 formation and return to our quarters for dinner. All meals were cafeteria-style served and eaten quickly, and no K.P. The basement of one of the buildings was converted into a cafeteria and served about 300 men at a time. After dinner we were expected to study the work assigned. AS I remember there was time for playing cards and craps. As long as we kept reasonably in order we were not bothered by “management.”

School continued for 5 days per week with weekends off on a pass unless some infraction of the rule caused the privilege to be withdrawn. These were pleasant weekends spent mainly with family as we lived in Jamaica about 1 hour away by train. On some weekends we attended local entertainment conducted by the American Red Cross. No hard liquor but lots of Coke and donuts. The girls that joined us were a motley crew from the local neighborhood, which in those days, close to the Brooklyn Navy Yard, was not exactly Park Ave.

One bright spot was the Commish’s Inn on Myrtle Avenue a few blocks away. It was run by my Uncle Irving, the black sheep of my father’s family, who had operated a speakeasy in Broad Channel during prohibition. Family legend had it that he used a black Cadillac hearse to run booze down from Montreal-passing through customs easily-who wants to bother a stiff I Uncle Irving was always good for a beer and pretzels and I saw him often at the time. I was never at a loss for company as 3 or 4 of my buddies also liked free beer. He kept a live monkey in a cage and had one of the first TV sets in NYC-about a 4″ screen in a 6ft high cabinet. Weekly fights and wrestling occupied a few hours at night. Uncle Irving was my father’s youngest brother. He had no children and took a liking to me, buying me my first baseball glove and a “Daisy” air rifle when I was 10 or 11. The odd name of his bar traced back to prohibition days when many of the NYC commissioners were his friends and customers. “Popularly known as “Brooklyn Poly” the name was changed in 1985 to Polytechnic University relocated form 99 Livingston St. to 333 Jay St. and now upgraded to “#6 Metrotech Center.” I still prefer the old names and address-you knew it was not in the Bronx and it favored important persons in American history!

College Bound Part 2

Going to classes 5 days a week for 7-8 hours a day was a difficult regimen|j but it took us through about two years of college “hours” between Sept 43 and March 44. After the war I was able to transfer some of the credits to a BA degree at Adelphi College (class of 49). I really wasn’t interested in engineering but managed to “hang on” while the program lasted. One of my buddies was Ralph Bono. He hailed from the Bronx and introduced us to the pleasures of pizza. Near the Commish’s Inn was a storefront, family-run “pizza parlor,” as they were generally known. Great deep dish, strictly cheese pizza-no fancy toppings but a taste to remember.

George Harris was another Gl from New Harmony, Indiana, deep at the southern end of the state. If it were difficult to locate a spot where the south and the north blended it is likely/ffafc New Harmony would fit the bill. Founded in the early 19^th century as an English Utopian Commune, it soon dropped its pretensions and “grew up” as a small southern rural town. George’s family lived in an “honest to goodness” log cabin- outdoor toilets-no central heat and a kitchen pump added only as a recognition of modernity- not 100 yards from the Wabash River.

As fate sometimes dictates, I got to know George’s family well. His mom, Effie, sister, brother-in-law and niece welcomed me months later when I was stationed in Camp Breckenridge, KY with the 75^th Inf Div. George had a disability form a poorly set broken elbow which left him on limited duty. He spent the war at desk jobs and while in New York visited my family on the same weekends that I spent in New Harmony with his. That spring and early summer of 1944 hold memories of southern fried chicken, mashed potatoes, iced tea and watermelon served on a wood plank table in the Harris’ front yard. They welcomed me warmly as George’s friend even though they may have wondered privately, what a nice Jewish boy like me was doing in a place like this!

Back to School!

Our Geography professor was a Dr. Fraim who had taught, before the war, at the University of Rangoon in Burma (now “Myannar”). When the troops learned this esoteric fact they recognized Dr. Fraim’s unique background with a monstrous battalion-sized shout of “RAN GOON” each morning as formations in front of Polytechnic broke up for classes. I think we all received “A’s” in Geography. The course work ran through Chemistry, Physics, Mathematics, blueprint drawing etc using text books usually written by the professor. Polytechnic was home to some of the top men in their fields. I never had the nerve to ask but I wondered what they thought of education by the numbers. Eight hours each day-5 days a week!

Through the winter of 1943-1944 we continued the daily grind. However, in mid-March our idyllic military careers came to a screeching halt. While it was all well and good to keep the colleges and universities functioning and give deserving Gl’s a shot at college studies, the manpower needs of the army came first. An infantry troop build-up was in the works and the ASTP was shut down except for some very limited programs in medicine and dentistry. We didn’t know it then but plans for the June 6,1944 D-Day landings in Normandy were well on their way.

Within a few days we were loaded into railroad cars (no Pullmans) and on our way South to Louisiana. Most of our group wound up in 75^th Inf Div, then training at Camp Polk where we were assigned to various units. I drew the 2^nd Bn HQ Co 289^th Inf regiment and remained with them through the extensive training at Camp Polk, then Camp Breckenridge, KY. We departed for Europe in Sept 1944 and wound up in the Battle of the Bulge in Dec 1944. But that’s another story.

One small incident remains in my memory of our days at Brooklyn Polytechnic. During one of our daily “parades” through downtown Brooklyn, on a cold and clear morning we marched in strict military formation passing by a corner drug store. It had 3 steps leading up to the entrance. An older woman, bundled up, stood till, waving her handkerchief to us and called out “hurry back boys/’ She mistakenly thought we were headed to Bush Terminal, a nearby troop embarkation facility. A smart-ass PFC in the front ranks turned to her and replied so all could hear “It’s ok, lady, we’ll be back right after lunch!”