Let s start when I left Boston Harbor in October 1944, on the USS Wakefield I cruise ship, Manhattan), destination Liverpool, England. I am trying to recall dates from my memory, but I do recall not staying in Liverpool for long. We picked up our equipment and we left England, were put on that a landing craft infantry and headed for Europe. The English Channel was a little rough and land mines were a float, so we were delayed while mine sweepers were called in to clear the way.

We landed in France and went by trucks to an area outside of St. Vith, Belgium, and we set up our two man tents for the night. It started to snow about 11:00 PM and sometime in the night we were greeted by a German patrol, as they left a note on our tent (written in the snow) “Welcome 106^th to the front”. The next few days we were sent to St. Vith (note: picture enclosed) to our headquarters, which was set up in a Catholic Church, (the plaque in picture was dedicated to the 106^th Division in 2010) Picture notes: The picture from left to right: Daniel Reiland, president of Disable Veterans Luxembourg. Lady was the only person in family to survive at 105 attacks by our division artillery. She was saved by a German trooper who fell dead on top of her. She was only seven (7) years old at that time. Her husband stands next to me and by the plaque. Her name is Johanna Gallo and her husband is Hubert. As Johanna told us her story It inspired me and to this day she has only the highest regard for troops and vets.

To continue with the story, my wire crew was sent to Schoenberg, Belgium, where we set up in a home near four (4) corners of the town on a river. This was around the 10^th of December, 1944. We conducted our operations from here. Laid wire for the division on the evening of the 15^th, from 11:00pm to about 1:00am. We were bombarded by a V-2 rocket, which landed about 300 yards from where we were working. The explosion was so great that it blew us and the truck we were working with, off the road and into the ditch. No one in our company or any trucks was hurt or damaged. When we returned, I was told to get some sleep, as I was to operate the switchboard early in the morning around 4 am.

When I started my watch, the Germans were shelling the City of Schoenberg. The commander in St. Vith called and told us that we were under attack, but we were to hold our position until 5 am. We stayed until 6 am at which time our Sgt. told us to start packing the gear and shut down operations.

Now as we were leaving for St. Vith a German tiger tank was coming down the hill, with his gun pointed directly at us. A 81^st engineer Sgt. climbed onto that tank and put a grenade down its turret and stopped them from firing. We then proceeded to St. Vith and arrived at our headquarters. That same night we were surrounded by the Germans! Army headquarters sent the Airborne Troops to get us out. Note: My life and many others will always be thankful for their help.

I was later sent to the North into the Netherlands with six (6) new 2^nd Lieutenants (field commissioned). Our F/Sgt. from headquarters was one of them. Later I went to Velamen, then to Stuttgart, Manlier, Wenham, Frankfurt, and onto Paris, France. I was assigned to the 17^th base Post Office (parcel post and rewrap). When Germany surrendered and the shooting ceased, I was able to see a lot of Germany and France, while traveling for and with the Army.

I waited on the Gare de L’Est Station platform. The train to Rheims would leave momentarily. I stayed at the far end, worried about M.P.’s. I had been AWOL, absent without leave, for two weeks. As soon as I boarded that train I would be safe. There was constant confusion due to troop redeployment. I would just slip back into the crowd at Camp Boston; no one would know I had been gone.The war had ended in August. Thank God, Harry Truman had them drop the atomic bomb. That was one of the greatest things that had ever happened to men in the U.S. military. Like most infantrymen I had expected to die on the beaches of Japan. Millions of Americans were headed home. The redeployment camps shifted into high gear, shipping everyone back to the States. Tens of thousands arrived and departed these camps weekly. This huge shuffle of men and units made for massive confusion and clerical errors.

My combat unit, my wartime family, had been deactivated months earlier. We were transferred from one paper unit to another as the army was contracted. We had no duties. You sat in a tent among hundreds of other tents. Some days the weather was clear. More often, as the fall progressed, it was dreary, overcast and depressing. You could sleep all day. You could read, play cards; go to the PX – what ever you chose to do. It was a boring, uneventful life. Due to the constant shuffle of men from one unit to another you knew no one, you had no friends. It could drive you crazy. You waited in limbo. You were in a time warp.

Rather than going stir crazy in camp I had spent recent weeks partaking the joys of Paris. Three-day passes were plentiful. After a while though going back and forth became a nuisance. Why not just stay in Paris? I had nothing else to do but sit in a tent and wait. But how to do it? The answer: liberate a blank pad of passes and write my own liberty passes. Everything was so screwed up who would ever know.

As a result I had a wonderful time in recent weeks. Paris sun-lit cafes were full. The company was great, the French girls exciting and accommodating. There was lots of wine and cognac. Money was available through the black market. As the song goes: “Summer time, life is easy and the days are long.” What more could a twenty two year old want? Don’t worry about tomorrow. Live for today. Now I had to get back to camp. I knew I was stretching my luck. Once there I would be OK. My immediate danger was Military Police on the look out for AWOL’s.The train’s engine whistled. It was time to go. I hurried to board. Two M.P.’s appeared-l hadn’t spotted them. “Soldier-let’s see your papers”. I gave them the pass I had forged a couple of days earlier.

“This says you were due back in Camp Boston at noon today. It’s two PM now. You’re kind of late aren’t you Malloy?” “I’m on my way on that train. I’ll be in camp by four. There won’t be a problem.” The other MP, said to his partner,” He’s absent without leave by his own admission.” The first MP, “I think you better come along with us. We’re going to check you out.”

I got in their jeep. We traveled a couple of miles and arrived in front of an old, forbidding looking, fortress-like, building. It must have been two hundred years old. We went inside. They stood me in front of a tall desk. An older be-speckled Gl looked down at me. “What have you got him for?” “AWOL by his own admission.” “Book him.'” “OK Sarge.” They took me to another area. “Empty your pockets of everything you got on you.” They searched me. They took my billfold, my watch, my barracks bag and some other things. They sealed them in a package. I signed it. “Take off your shoestrings.” “Why?” “Shut your mouth and do as you are told.”

They walked me down a long, dark passageway, the high walls cold and dank. A cell door  as opened. They shoved me in. The gate to freedom clanged shut behind me. I entered my cage. There were nine other prisoners. I spotted the spare bunk and climbed into it. What happens now? Here I am-how do I keep it together? All I had were the clothes on my back and the small bag the MPs had confiscated. A Pfc. in the infantry didn’t have much or need much. Uncle Sam took care of him.

The cell was a bleak, barren space. There were eight double bunks. The ceiling was high, the single window barred. There was a sink and toilet stool in the corner-no walls or door. You had to do your job in full view. Three light bulbs, hung from the ceiling, provided light. .

We were in a holding tank. The Military Police gathered those violating military law and held them here until transferred back to their unit. Their company commander would confer punishment-from minor detention, to a major court martial with prison time. It was clear the key to getting out of this place was to make your unit aware you were held here. Most men would leave in less than a week.

My problem was I had three new company commanders who had come and gone. No one in command at Camp Boston knew me. The turnover among all personnel was constant. No one knew anyone. When men arrived, some shipped out immediately; all had to wait until their number came up. My hope now was that some one at Camp Boston would know me and get me transferred back there. I didn’t know who that person might be. Nothing happened for two days. On the third day a guard shouted through the door. “Malloy, front and center.” A guard walked me to an office. A Gl clerk sat at his desk. “Sit down. I want you to tell me what outfit you really belong to. We couldn’t find you in Camp Boston. And don’t lie to me. It will only make it worse.”

I explained I had been transferred in name only to different outfits. That was normal procedure. Soldiers with too few points for discharge were transferred on paper to a new unit. I had given up trying to keep track of all that. I told him, “With all the confusion in Camp Boston the best bet would be to try to track me through my former combat outfit, the 291st Regiment.” I could tell he thought I was lying. Back to my cell, this time for days. Three weeks crawled by and still no word. I felt a terrible isolation. Depression swallowed me. As time passed I fell into the black abyss of despair. Now I understood why they took my shoestrings, they wanted to prevent an attempt at suicide.

As the days passed, I went to the window and pushed my hand out as far as I could-at least part of me was outside this hellhole. Still no word. I lost track of time. I gave up hope. I would rather die than live like this. I heard a bird one day. Oh to be a bird. One day: ” Malloy, front and center!” They took me back to the clerk. I signed for my personal effects. They gave me my bag. They told me nothing. “Get in the jeep.” We drove east for two hours. The M.P.’s ignored me. What now? There it was-Camp Boston-home. The M.P.’s turned me over to the company clerk. He signed a receipt for his prisoner.

A Captain I had never seen appeared. He looked at me. “So you are Malloy, the guy who has been AWOL for more than a month. You and your buddies have cost me more trouble than you will ever know. I have had my ass chewed out because of the likes of you. I’m going to make an example of you. It will put the fear of God into anyone else who thinks like you.” The Captain called out, “Sergeant Eisenberg come out here.” My God, it was my old First Sergeant from the 291st. All at once I saw hope.

“This is one of that AWOL crowd. See this bum is put under guard. I’ll deal with him when I return from Paris next week.” “Yes Sir,” Eisenberg said. Eisenberg didn’t acknowledge me. I kept my mouth shut. A guard took me to my tent. I knew no one. I sat on my cot. It felt good. Now what? Several hours later a corporal appeared.” I’ll take over,” he told the guard. “Grab your gear, Malloy, all of it.” He had a jeep. We drove for an hour.

We arrived at Camp Baltimore. We went to Company Headquarters and found the First Sergeant. “Sergeant I’m delivering this fellow from Camp Boston. Eisenberg said he had talked with you about him.” “OK, I’ll sign for him. Welcome to your new outfit, Malloy. Eisenberg and I are old buddies. He gave me a good report on you.” The Corporal turned to leave. “Malloy keep your mouth shut. Eisenberg said to tell you good luck. He also told me to tell you to walk the straight and narrow from now on.”

Army officers give commands but the Army is run by the noncoms. I was free and clear-Hallelujah! After all these years, I still have a special place in my heart for Eisenberg. I still can feel cold fear in my bones when I recall that desolate old French prison. I’ve walked the straight and narrow for more than sixty-five years. I learned recently Eisenberg, like so many of my comrades, had died. Time marches on.

Browse Malloy’s book at Amazon.com “Making John A Soldier.”
John P. Malloy 291^st HQ Co. 75^th Division
Contact author: mapj12@gmail.com

COMBAT ENGINEER BACK ALIVE IN 45′

CCR of the 4th Armored Division pierced the Bulge at Bastogne on the 26th of December. Increased pressure on all sides of the Bulge caused the German Army to surrender or retreat back towards Germany. Then the armored units turned east to pursue the retreating enemy. The 188th. Engineer Combat Battalion along with other combat engineer battalions were held in the Bastogne-Houfalize Area to restore the highway system to a serviceable condition. The road system was never constructed to handle the pounding of tracked vehicles and heavy highway trucks. No highway system could withstand the conditions that the present roads were called on to withstand the beating they were subjected to. Most of the roads were nothing but a sea of mud, water and ruts. We worked day and night restoring them to a condition where they could be used again.

We constructed many sections of corduroy roadway, as the sub-coarses of the road had disappeared. A corduroy road is constructed of sections of tree trunks covered by the rubble of destroyed buildings and homes. A corduroy road is a poor substitute for a paved surface but we did not have that option. A corduroy road will provide the necessary traction for the vehicles so necessary in a war zone. Maintenance is constant and never ending.

We turned east and moved through the Seigfried Line into Germany. Bridges were built and roads were repaired and land mines and anti personnel were removed or destroyed as we continued our move through German cities, towns and villages. The civilian population had abandoned their home farms and livestock and moved farther into Germany at the approach of the American army. The abandonment of these towns and villages continued for a short time and then stopped. With the approach of the American Army from the west and the Russian army from the east there was soon no place to go. Some of the German civilians told us they had been told by their government officials that we would rob, rape and murder them. We did none of these things, but we did milk their cows and savored the fruits of our labors. Did you ever hear the pitiful mooing of a cow that needed to be milked?

We moved steadily east where our next big mission would be crossing the Rhine River. Training for the crossing was underway. Selected platoons in our Battalion received additional training in the operation and use of motor boats. All of our bridge building, road repair and mine removal work had been completed in this area and we awaited our orders for the Rhine River crossing which was awaiting our Battalion. With the receipt of orders the Battalion was off for Kaiserlauten, where we were to join the XX Corps. Enroute our orders were changed and we stopped at Oberthal. The German civilians were ordered to vacate their homes and when the Battalion arrived  they were able to move in . Overnight the crossing was  cancelled in this section and we were reassigned to the 1107th Group. So we are off again, this time in the direction from which we had just come. When we arrived at a wooded area near Braunshorn we started to prepare for the crossing. After a final preparation with the motors, we were ready for the Rhine River crossing.

Reconnaissance of the area between St. Goar and Oberwessel for suitable landing sites had been made by Staff Officers and all was in readiness. Orders for the crossing were received and at 2AM on Sunday the 26th. of March we moved to the river. The artillery opened fire on the far side of the river and the mission was underway. The assault boats entered the river for the crossing to Wellmich, St. Goar and Oberwessel. The initial wave of boats were paddled and succeeding waves were powered. The assalt boats were manned by combat engineers of the 168th Battalion. The crossing at St. Goar was strongly resisted, with lighter resistance at Wellmich and Oberwessel. With the infantry clearing the far side, the construction of ferries began. Once built they were placed in service. The motor powered ferries would carry troops and supplies to St. Goar, on the east side of the Rhine and return within our wounded and German prisoners, but not on the same trip.

During the day our B Company had two of its jeeps knocked out with resulting casualties. A Navy Duck, operating on the river, sideswiped and swamped a ferry,drowning one of our combat engineer soldiers. He was a very recent replacement in Company B of our Battalion. In war, death can overtake you in many different ways. The construction of a log boom, to protect the floating bridges, had to be abandoned after eight attempts. The current was too strong and the logs anchored to the cable were torn away at mid river and beyond. Fortunately the Germans did not launch any floating mines.

After the two floating bridges were built it was time to move on to the east. The front line was now many miles ahead of us and and we had quite some distance to cover to catch up to to the Fourth Armored Division. When we did catch up to them our main assignment was to repair and maintain their MSR (Main Supply Route) as they made their drive to capture the city of Gotha, Germany. The MSR, for the most part, was on the Autobahn Highway and we were strafed daily by enemy planes and suffered many casualties. Fortunately we did not suffer any fatalities as a result of these straffings.

As we moved deeper and deeper into Germany we occupied German homes for our dwellings. We no longer had to sleep in our pup tents and that was a great relief for all of us who were out in weather all day and our personal belongings and spare clothing were protected from the elements. The Germans were told to leave their homes before we moved in. This had been the policy since we entered Germany and it would remain in effect during and after the war. To the victor goes the spoils of war seemed to be the policy for all as far as I knew at the time.

The highways were crowded with the slave labor that had been freed or escaped from their captors and German soldiers who had surrendered or given up the battle. They lined both sides of the highways single file towards the rear of our position and headed in a westerly direction and hoping for a free meal. However; we did not have the means or the desire to host a dinner party for the German Army. We told them to continue walking west and someone, someplace would take care of them. Most of the battalion assignments were on the Autobahn      building and repairing bridges of all types of construction and repairing roads. There were numerous shell craters and tank traps that had to be filled. The speed of our advance was so great that we had crews working around the clock to keep the highways in service, and the Autobahn was the most important of them all.

While in this area we received word that a slave labor camp had been captured and the occupants had been set free. I decided to visit the camp and accompanied by my platoon sergeant and another squad leader from my platoon, we drove to the nearby town of Ohrdruf, Germany to take a look at the camp. The concentration camp was close by and we parked the jeep and walked through the main entrance. The gates and some fencing had been smashed by the armored force that had liberated the camp. The camp was fenced on all four sides. Prisoners dressed in striped pajama type uniforms were to be seen at many locations in the camp. The walking cadavers would approach you and stare aimlessly with glassy eyes. Some attempted to make conversation, asking for cigarettes which we gave them. They may have asked for other things, but we could not understand them. We continued to walk through the camp and entered one of the barrack like buildings that housed the prisoners. There were both live and dead prisoners in the building. The odor was terrible and took your breath away.

We quickly exited the building and did not enter any of the other barrack type buildings. In another area we saw the naked bodies of men and women stacked in rows like cordwood. Here and there a body had fallen from the stack and lay on the ground like a piece of wood which had fallen from the stack. On some of the stacking’s of bodies an attempt had been made to throw a layer of what appeared to be lime. Naturally we did not touch anything. Now and then I absentmindedly stuck my hands in my pockets to keep them out of harms way. Most of the

stacks   did not have any lime on them.   We moved on in this chamber of horror.   In another area there was a large open ditch like excavation. Dozens and dozens of naked bodies of men and women had been haphazardly thrown into the excavation where they lay uncovered and exposed to the elements and animals.

We had seen more than enough and left the slave labor camp at Ohrdruf, Germany. A few days later the site was visited by Generals Eisenhower and Patton and other Generals It is my understanding General Eisenhower dispatched someone to the nearby town of Ohrdruf and they brought a town official to the camp and ordered him to gather the town citizenry to report to the camp with shovels to bury the dead bodies.  A few days after my visit to the camp at Ohrdruf another concentration camp was liberated at Buchenwald Germany. I did not visit that one as I had no desire to revisit the horror I had seen at Ohrdruf. “Mans inhumanity to fellow man”

Several times while doing repair work on the Autobahn Highway we saw jeeps bearing Russian Army Officers accompanied by American Army Officers traveling west. An occasional wave and sometimes a smile from them as they moved through our work area. Seeing the Russians we thought end of the war was at hand. However that was not the case.

C Company constructed a bridge across the Salle River, south of Vena, Germany, which marked the completion of one mile of fixed bridging in the ETO by our Battalion. This does not include the unfinished bridge at Keskastel in the Saar Valley constructed by B Company. We were on the job and would have completed the bridge that day. Then we received orders to cease construction and return to the company area and prepare for the move north to fight in the Battle of the Bulge I often wonder if there is someone out there who knows the rest of the story. What engineer outfit did finish he Bridge at Keskastel in the Saar Valley.. I wonder.

On the 6th of May the Battalion was placed in support of the 89th Division for a river crossing operation at Ave, Germany. On May 7th the operation was called off as negotiations were underway for a German surrender, ending the war. Later that day word was received that negotiations were completed and the Germans had surrendered. The war with Germany was over. May 8th was the day the war was officially over. I do not remember any large scale celebrations of the event. We were very relieved of course, but we all realized that there was an ongoing war with Japan and some of us would probably see some of that war,

We were now an Army of Occupation and the American Forces were to move to the American Occupation Zone in Bavaria. I was a member of the group that was dispatched to Bavaria to locate living quarters for our Company. We were to locate in an area near Regensburg, Germany. We surveyed the area for the most desirable quarters consistent with our future work as a member of the Army of Occupation. The most suitable quarters for our company were found in the city of Regensberg .   It was a multi storied apartment building and would suit our needs. The civilian occupants were given orders to vacate the building and this was accomplished quickly.

The site we had chosen had a large athletic field adjacent to our living quarters.   We used the field for military drill exercises and it was also used for our daily program of physical training to keep us in top physical shape. The field was also used for our softball games when we had free time. A volley ball court gave us another outlet to expend our excess energy. The athletic games soon attracted the attention of group of young boys living in the neighborhood. These boys all about 10 years of age and younger became regular fixtures at all of our outdoor activities including meal times when we ate our meals outdoors. The mess sergeant offered the leftovers one day to the boys if they would provide a container to be used to carry the food away from our area. They disappeared and quickly returned with containers of all sizes and descriptions. Apparently they had hidden the containers nearby in hopes of being offered the leftovers someday. The kitchen leftovers were quickly augmented by food from the soldiers mess gear. When the containers were filled or all of the spare food had been parceled out, they headed for their homes to share the food with their families.

Kids are the same worldwide, even German youngsters. That is until they enter the German youth programs of Adolph Hitler. Then they become a very different person. I have seen both and I recognize the change in their character. One of our assignments in the Army of Occupation was to repair a bridge over the Danube River at a town east of Regensburg. The repairs included repairing two damaged masonry piers and placing steel members to bridge the gaps between the piers. Repairs to the approaches and other road work in the area had to be performed and then the bridge was returned to service.

One of the assignments we were given in the Army of Occupation was the establishment and operation of a railhead. Building material was being collected for the construction of barracks for the troops that were to remain in Europe as a part of the Army of Occupation. The railroad tracks and railway equipment was severely damaged as a result of the aerial and artillery bombings during the seven (7) years of war in Europe. Slowly the reconstruction of rails and rolling stock was returning some of the railway system to an operating status. The freight cars we would be using to ship the building materials, namely, flat cars, box cars, hoppers and gondolas of various lengths and capacities. To realize the maximum value of this equipment we would have to be selective in the loading of the building materials.

We were assigned the use of four stub ended tracks coming off a ladder track which was connected to the main track serving the rail yard. It was a good location, readily accessible to the highway and with a large area to permit the delivery trucks sufficient room to maneuver into place to unload the building materials to the freight cars. When we had enough cars loaded, a switching crew was called to remove the loaded cars and assemble them into a train for delivery to a barracks building site. This involved switching out the loaded cars and placing the partially loaded and empty cars on one of the stub ended tracks.

The switching crew usually consisted of a conductor, a brakeman and a locomotive engineer. They were German civilians and they did not speak the English language. One of the soldiers in our platoon Willie K., had been born in Germany and had emigrated to the United States with his parents when he was three (3) years old. His parents used the German language at their home in conversations with their family. Willie K. the American soldier was very fluent in the German language and he was called on for his services by other officers in the battalion.

The request for a switch crew had to be made at least twenty four (24) hours in advance of the day they would be needed. I had made such a request for a switch crew but Willie K’s services were required by one of our staff officers that morning and so I was without an interpreter when the switch crew arrived. So I attempted to give the instructions to the crew myself. My skills in the German language were very limited but I had no other alternative but to try to get the job done. The usual procedure was to make a list in duplicate of the loaded cars to be shipped that day. The original was given to the conductor and I kept the duplicate. The conductor, interpreter and I would then check the loaded cars against the list and then the switching crew would cut the loaded cars out of the mix and assemble them on an empty track to build the outbound train for the shipment to the consignee. Then the crew would rearrange the remaining cars plus any empties that they might have delivered to us that day.

On this particular day when I gave the conductor the instructions for that days work in my limited ability in the German language he and I were unable to understand each other. He asked me if I could speak French. I advised him that I could not but that I had a soldier in the platoon who could speak French. The soldier was summoned to the scene and so I told him in English what I wanted the crew to do. He then gave this information in French to the conductor who then instructed the engineer and brakeman in German on the moves to be made. But if the engineer or brakeman had a question or did not understand then it all ended back with me to attempt to unravel. What came back to me was not the same set of instructions that I originally gave to the French speaking soldier. Words in the original set of instructions sometimes stray in their meaning as they are translated from one language to another.

After several attempts I could see that we had an Abbot-Costello “Who is on First” vaudeville scenario. Any further attempts to get the work done in this manner seemed hopeless. So I decided to try another approach to get the days work finished. The conductor, platoon sergeant and I identified each loaded car on the list of cars I had given him and the platoon sergeant circled the number of that loaded car with a piece of chalk for quick identification so those cars could be drilled from all the other cars and switched to an empty track for the assembly of an outbound train. All of this the conductor and crew understood and we did get the train dispatched to the consignee that morning.

Austrian composer Johann Strauss wrote the very beautiful song “The Blue Danube Waltz.” But the waters of the Danube River are a dirty brown and not blue. I know because I saw it every day for three or four weeks as we repaired the bridge.

In July of 1945 the 188th Combat Engineer Battalion was deactivated. Those with the required (60) points were returned to the United States to be discharged. The rest of us were assigned to other engineer units that were retained in the Army of Occupation. I was assigned to the 243rd. Engineer Combat Battalion which was to remain as a member of the Army of Occupation. I was only with the 243rd. for about a month and then I was ordered to report to an assembly area in Regensburg for transport to Camp Lucky Strike in Le Harve, France. I traveled for two days and nights in a box car. The box cars were were named,” 40 & 8″ box cars. Those numbers meant the capacity of the box car was Forty Horses or Eight Men. It certainly was not the Broadway Limited of the Pennsylvania Railroad. The accomodations included two buckets for sanitary use and several cases of rations. The rations were C Ration, K rations or 10 in 1 type. Fresh water you carried in you canteen. There were eight or ten occupants assigned to each 40 & 8 box car. This is how I remember it sixty five years after the event.

On arrival at Camp lucky Strike we were assigned to a tent enclosure for eight or ten people. We were at Camp Lucky Strike for about ten days. The rumor mill ran wild all day and every day. Then the Japanese surrendered and it became a whole new ball game. We were then told that we would be going to the States and given a leave of absence after which we would   be assigned to another unit or be sent to a Repo Depot.    Early one morning in the middle of August we were told to prepare to board a Liberty Ship named the John Cropper at noon. We gathered our gear and were taken by a buses or trucks to the dock at Le Harve and loaded aboard The John Cropper. One of our shipmates who was assigned to the same quarters as me told me that he was sea sick on every voyage he had ever made and expected the same for this trip. Yes,He was. We departed from Le Harve, France at 5 o’clock on August 18,1945 and set sail for the United States.

There were about 325 of us plus the crew on board.  About the third day at sea we encountered a heavy storm and the ship bounced around like a cork. Most of the 325 passengers were seasick but fortunately I was not one of them.   Thirteen days after departing Le Harve, France we entered New York harbor.   I was preparing my gear for docking. It was 9AM on August 31st. when I heard a voice exclaiming “There is the Statue of Liberty”.   I hurried to get on deck to see the Lovely Lady of Freedom. I heard another voice shout “We are Home”. This was confirmed a short time later when I saw and heard a band playing and the Red Cross ladies waving and welcoming us home.

In 1944 as we fought our way across Europe, I often heard a fellow soldier say “Back Alive in “45”. Yes indeed, it had all come true.

“TASK  FORCE  DAVISSON”

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

G.G. Cooper was born on 11 July 1923 in Lafayette, Tennessee. C.G. decided to leave home after graduating high school to wander America. He ended up becoming a welder at Kaiser Shipyards in California. The draft board finally caught up with him and on 28 June 1943, just shy of his 20^w birthday, G.G. was inducted into the United States Army . He went through basic training at Camp Lee, Virginia and when asked by the Army what he wanted to do, G.G. basically said ‘anything but cooking’. Needless to say, G.G. wasn’t laughing-when he was told that he’d be designated as a cook and would go through Bakery & Cook School. He graduated from Bakery & Cook School as a 1^st cook and told he would be behind the front lines with plenty of food and warmth and placed in Company E,  289^th Infantry Regiment , 75^th Infantry Division.

G.G. was supposed to be quartermaster but because of his excellent marksmanship and
the need for more men to fight the elite German forces wreaking havoc on the European front, was chosen to be on the front lines as a rifleman. Wherever his company went, G.G. was either fighting alongside them or cooking food for them. G.G. received further training at Camp Breckinridge, Kentucky and went overseas from there. He recalled when they gave the 1st cook position to another guy who knew nothing about cooking, much less for an army of men! The new guy asked G.G. the proper amount of beans to prepare for all the men. G.G. told him to figure it out since he was now the cook and especially since he was receiving sergeant pay (G.G. was a Pfc).

The sergeant cook, as I will call him, cooked 30 pounds of beans for 200 men, when only 14 pounds were needed! Beans, beans, and more beans! The company of men the sergeant cook prepared them for were none too happy with his lack of portion control, as they had to eat them for every meal over the days that followed until every last bean was gone! This was due to the fact that the food was considered Army property and improper disposal of Army property could lead to being court-martialed!

Around this same time period, G.G.’s wife Patricia who was back in Knoxville, Tennessee, was about to give birth. She was a very small lady and the doctor was concerned that she might have difficulty during the delivery. Like any concerned husband and soon to be papa, G.G. wanted to be with her. He was told that if he left he would be court-martialed. This warning did not deter him. Instead, G.G. made his way to the Red Cross and asked permission to go telling them that if they denied his request he would climb the walls and go anyway.

The phone rang and it was the doctor in Knoxville saying that G.G. needed to come immediately. They finally gave him permission and he began his trek by hitch hiking. At one point he was stranded in the rain. Thankfully someone stopped and offered him a ride. Unfortunately the vehicle was a motorbike. G.G.’s brother had been injured whileriding one so he was a bit apprehensive. He ended up accepting the offer however. He got off in Nashville where his father lived and then caught a bus on to Knoxville. G.G. was supposed to be back on the base that Sunday, but decided to stay in order to hold his baby in his arms. (All had gone well with the delivery.) Of his decision to stay he said, “I didn’t know if I’d live to ever see him again or not.”

On Monday he got orders to go to HQ as he was considered to be AWOL. G.G.’s service record indicates his one AWOL, but it was a decision he never regretted. His son was two weeks old when he left for the battlefields from New York on 22 Oct 1944. His ship arrived at in Liverpool, England on 3 Nov 1944. The men then traveled on to South Wales and finally crossed the channel to France. Once on French ground the men headed to Paris where G.G. says they were treated like heroes. Then it was on to Bastogne, Belgium where they spent their first night in battle with the enemy. This brutal battle would become known as The Battle of the Bulge.

Despite the area having its coldest winters on record up to that time, Allied leaders chose not to send appropriate winter clothing with G.G. and the other men, saying that they would only be involved in a few skirmishes. These leaders were wrong and their decision could have spelled disaster for the Allies. Fortunately our men pulled through like the troopers they are. The men were given C and K rations so there would be no need for cooks on the front lines. G.G. was put in charge of guarding the kitchen and ammo truck on the first night while the other men were enthralled in battle. The driver of a jeep came up to him saying that a German tank was headed his way and not to let it through.

“What will I do?” G.G. remembers thinking back then. Ideas began swirling in his mind… .the .45 pistol on his hip… his rifle. He grabbed a carbine, machine gun, bazooka, grenades, and ammo belts from the truck he was guarding. “I was a walking arsenal”, he said. The ideas continued in his mind… a grenade… no, that won’t work… a Molotov cocktail… no, that won’t work… blast it with a bazooka (he recalled watching a training film that showed a bazooka being used to blast the tracks off a tank)… no, I have no ammo for it. At this point, the tank is right in front of him and his mind is frozen. In the chaos, G.G. slipped falling in the tanks’ path due to the slick mud. Providence was with him as the tank rolled right over him, straddling him and continuing on its path.

The next morning he found out that some of his buddies had been killed. G.G. said it was a gruesome sight, the bodies strewn about the battlefield’, the Germans had succeeded in surrounding them and they were now cut off from replacements and supplies. G.G. ate dry hog bran from a farm and was happy with that discovery. He also managed to find a turnip in the root cellar. Another group of the Allies eventually pushed the Germans back and rescued the previously surrounded men. They regrouped and received replacements, some of whom were only teenagers. On Christmas Eve and Christmas Day 1944, a heavy snow had covered everything and G.G. said it was a beautiful sight to behold. Suddenly all heck broke loose with dogfights in the sky and heavy artillery shelling on the ground. He never forgot that Christmas Dav.

At one point, G.G. was sent to the hospital due to his frostbitten toes. This was a common occurrence with the lack of appropriate clothing for the extreme weather conditions. While lying in his hospital bed, the soldier on one side said to the soldier on G.G.’s other side, Joe, I’m dying. Tell my folks how much I love them. G.G. later found out that the two men had fought alongside the Russians who had given them poisoned liquor for some reason. (After a while, soldiers would call one another Joe because by the time you learned someone’s name, it seemed you died or they did.) The soldier who asked his buddy to give the message to his parents, died later that day and his buddy soon suffered the same fate, blind and calling out for loved ones.

That same morning, soldiers were lined up to be seen by the doctor. Many of the men were there for frostbite and the doctor told most that the affected appendages needed to be amputated. When it was his turn, G.G. put his hand up to jaw and moaned. The doctor asked what was wrong with him and he said he had a toothache. The doc told him that he was in the wrong line and off G.G. went. He remembers thinking, “I came over here with all my body parts and IF I get to go home, I wanna go home with all my body parts… all together.”

From the hospital he hitchhiked back to his outfit. He went to the kitchen truck and told his company commander that he had been on the front lines and knew what it was like. “If you’ll give me permission to have a truck and driver, I would like to take hot chocolate and donuts to my buddies in the foxholes.” Permission was granted and G.G. began making preparations. “While making up the donuts the tent was hit. There was shrapnel all in the donut mix. I picked it all out and continued on,” G.G. shared. He fried the donuts and prepared the hot chocolate, the latter which he put into insulated containers to keep it hot. The refreshments were loaded on the truck and the two men headed to the front lines. On the way there they were caught in the crossfire between both sides. There were bullet holes in the hot chocolate and the truck, with hot chocolate spilling everywhere. G.G. was in the back sliding around with the containers. Thankfully neither he nor the driver was hit.

The driver soon stopped, having taken C.G. as close to the front lines as he could get him. He told the driver it was fine as he knew where the fox holes were located. G.G. carried the refreshments to each of the fox holes and they were sure a welcomed treat. The men would hold out their steel helmets and G.G. would pour in some hot chocolate and throw in some donuts. Mind you, the soldiers’ helmets were a versatile tool. Not only did they protect their heads or hold food and drink, but they were also used by the soldiers to relieve themselves so they wouldn’t have to leave the safety of their fox hole.

After serving everyone, G.G. made his way back to the truck. The driver said that they were going a different way back since they had come under fire on the way up. It was dark and there was no GPS for them to conveniently use. Suddenly the driver shouted, ‘We’re behind German lines! Look at all those Krauts! What do I do now?’ G.G. told him to push in on the clutch and the .gas at the same time to make the engine roar. The driver did so and G.G. threw his arm out the window saluting Hitler and yelling, “Heil Hitler! Comrade, Comrade.”

Once again Providence was on their side as the Germans actually allowed them to pass through safely. Eventually the two men made their way back to camp where they told of what happened. Some of their fellow soldiers were unsure whether or not to believe what they were hearing. A few days later, the 75^m captured some of those same German’s and asked them why on earth they had allowed the Americans to pass. The German’s response, ‘We didn’t know what you darn yanks were up to.’

After awhile, the 75^th and others were pulled back from the front lines and billeted in Belgian homes for a rest. At the home G.G. stayed in there was a pot bellied stove. “Oh I could not wait to get my boots off,” G.G. said of his delight at having a stove. His feet were so swollen that he couldn’t get his boots off. The ladies of the house offered to assist him and were eventually successful after much tugging and pulling. Immediately they saw how black his feet were. They would each get under one of his arms and walk him outside to wash his feet over and over again in the snow. “Thanks to those ladies I still have my feet and toes,” G.G. said of their nursing care.

Communicating with the Belgians was difficult and it was only through hand signals and motions that they were able to understand one another. He was asked his name and told them Cooper. They said ‘Jackie Cooper’ (American Actor) and he nodded uh-huh (the two men were the same age and build). The women went into town telling everyone they had a celebrity in their home. Everyone came over with writing tablets wanting an autograph. “What else could I do? They had been so good to me, so I signed ‘Jackie Cooper’,” he said of the experience.

A 90-day wonder (second lieutenant), as the men would call them, decided that a kitchen truck would be put on the front lines and serve hot food to those in the foxholes. “We didn’t think that was too bright of an idea but after all, he was our officer,” said G.G. Snow was everywhere and the kitchen burners weren’t working properly. He had to take them outside and tinker with them. During this time, some of the fuel spilled out and caught fire. There they were in the Ardennes forest with flames shooting up through the trees giving away their position. Heavy artillery began to rain down on the men, busting trees to pieces and causing them to become spears hurling at incredible rates of speed hitting some of the men. G.G. took cover behind the kitchen truck and thankfully was not hit. Unfortunately the second lieutenant who put the kitchen trucks on the front lines was hit. G.G. never saw him again and believes he didn’t make it.

G.G. made another trip to the hospital, this time for a bleeding nose and lips. His nostrils were extremely swollen and he couldn’t breathe through them. At hospital they put him in a barber type chair then placed hot towels on his head and a curved steel cup below his ears and mouth. To thaw him out they placed long steel rods up his nostrils and switched out the towels as they cooled with fresh hot ones. All kinds of bloody ‘corruption’, as G.G. called it, came oozing out his facial orifices until finally he could breathe better. His breathes were still shallow so they wrapped up his chest with an adhesive tape bandage and let him go. Just outside the hospital was a gully which G.G. tried to jump. He was unsuccessful and fell in. Thankfully someone saw what happened and carried him back into the hospital where they loosened his chest wrap a bit.

G.G. told of a facility the soldiers entered that appeared to be a slave labor camp. Nude bodies were lined up 4 – 5 feet high and roughly 20 feet long. “What a horrible sight,” G.G. said, “Some were barely alive…just skin and bones, didn’t have the strength to move. They were a pitiful sight.” One of the camp guards had a pistol and whip on his hip that was likely used on the prisoners. G.G. relieved him of his weapons and kept the whip as a souvenir. It wasn’t long before G.G. became disgusted with the whip and the pain it had induced on innocent people so he got rid of it. He said of the item, “I got sick of that whip and what it had done. I did not even want it as a souvenir, its bad memories.”

G.G. spoke of the mental effect the war had on many of the soldiers, “Some of the soldiers had seen so much horror that they became zombies of sorts. It was as if their spirit had already left their body. Some of them just kept on walking, on into enemy fire. I felt like when they did get shot down, they did not feel the pain of the bullet. They were not in that body anymore…their spirit had left them. Oh, how horrible.” He recalled another horrible experience, “One guy next to me had been hit pretty good. (It) left him like scrambled eggs. I waved my hands in the air and said, ‘Thank you Lord. Joe. No more cold. No more pain. … Why me Lord? Why am I still here?'”

The 75^th pushed the Germans back and the medics headed out to help their wounded on the battlefield. Later on the next day or so, G.G.’s unit found their medics stripped of all clothing, tied to trees, and their bodies mutilated. Soon thereafter the 75^th believed they had captured some of the Germans responsible for the mutilated medics. Recalling what happened next G.G. shared apprehensively, “It’s not easy to talk about the Germans were hollering ‘Mercy, Mercy!’ as they were cornered in a barn and the flamethrowers ending their lives as they hollered ‘Mercy, Mercy!’ They showed no mercy to our fellows Oh Lordy. How cruel a human being can be. one to another.”

Back and forth both sides pushed each other in the Ardennes. Dead German soldiers and American soldiers were piled up on top of one another, covered by the never ending snow. The bodies were frozen stiff. G.G. remembered when they did pick up their dead; they would throw them into the back of a truck like you would a log of wood. All piled up there together, Germans and Americans. In death it did not matter that the two had fought as bitter enemies.

One time when he went to eat his K-rations, he sat down on what he thought was a log. Something was sticking him in his bum so he began digging around in the snow to see what it could be. “It was a Germans belt buckle. I was sitting on a corpse,” G.G. said. He will never forget the bitter cold and ground frozen so hard you couldn’t even dig a foxhole. The men would sleep standing up. One wouldn’t think it possible but G.G. said that 4 of them would huddle together in a circle, putting their arms around each other’s shoulders and actually catch a few winks and maintain some warmth. He also remembers some of the men sleeping as. they were walking due to their extreme exhaustion. Being hungry at the same time didn’t help and they often stumbled, falling into the snow which became the final resting place of some.

On one night in the battle, G.G. heard someone holler real loud and then a shot was fired. A soldier had chosen to shoot himself in the foot rather than continue on fighting in hell. He was unable to convince his superiors that it was an accident because of him hollering before he actually shot himself. The soldier ended up receiving some bad time and going without pay for a spell. That night “so many of us got killed,” said G.G. Many officers were among the dead and some of those who made it through told-G.G. Thev were going to make him a second lieutenant. G.G. wanted no part of it because so many of the officers died. Another soldier ended up receiving the promotion. G.G. laughed as he said, “Would you know that sucker made it through every battle fought from then forward and made it back home.”

Near the Belgian barracks where G.G. was staying at the time, he came upon a cow and thought to himself, ‘I haven’t had milk since we left the states I’m an old farm boy… .I’ll just sit my gun in the corner and milk her.” He patted her on the head and called her Bessie in an attempt to calm her down and placed his steel helmet beneath her udders. As he milked her she continued to moan, which G.G. latter believed was because she hadn’t been milked in so long.

He successfully retrieved a helmet full of milk which he then placed in the snow to cool it. When he went to drink it some of the other soldiers said, ‘You’re not going to drink all that blanket blank milk yourself to which he turned up the helmet and began guzzling it. He continued with the story, “It was so good but it had no more hit my stomach than it came back out both ways. I was so sick! That milk wasn’t fit for human consumption because poor old Bessie had it in her bag for so long that it had become contaminated.”

As the men managed to push the German’s back once again, they moved forward gaining ground. They came upon a huge beautiful home and G.G. wondered if he might find any dry, clean clothes inside. He and a buddy went to check it out but he couldn’t find any men’s clothing. “There must have been a great big ole woman living there ’cause I found a great big ole pair of bloomers.” He began to laugh as he recalled what he did next, “They were clean so I put them on. I also found a petticoat and put it on too.” This only illustrates how cold our men were.

His buddy hollered from across the room to look at what he had found. Lo and behold, that soldier had found a tuxedo and top hat. The soldier put on his find as well but left the top hat and off the two goofiest dressed soldiers went back into battle. G.G. couldn’t get the petticoat tucked into his britches so he just left it out. He said that the sight of himself and his buddy made him laugh uncontrollably at the time.

At one time the men were low on rations. One soldier who had been a butcher at a packing company in civilian life told G.G. that the two of them should go out that night and butcher the cow. G.G. thought it a great idea and the two headed out in a Jeep to procure the meat. G.G.’s buddy took his position in front of the cow, raised his knife, and took a good hard swing to cut the cow’s throat. Unfortunately, the young man managed to miss the cow and instead cut his own thigh. G.G. took over from that point, as he too had spent some time as a butcher, and slaughtered the cow. He then tied it to the Jeep and drug it into a nearby building where he butchered it. During that time, someone began knocking on the big metal door of the building. Thankfully, the person soon went away and G.G. was able to finish the task at hand. The men cooked up their meat and everyone wanted a portion, even the inspector general! G.G. knew that he and his buddy could have been court-martialed for their actions. However, they didn’t regret their actions and their buddies were sure thankful for a reminder of what real food tasted like instead their boxes of rations.

AT one point after the 75^th had been fighting in the Ardennes for some time, the French needed help in Colmar, France. The men were loaded into ‘forty & eight boxcars’, which got their name during the Great War because they could carry forty men and eight horses. G.G. said they had a lot of men packed into those boxcars like sardines. G.G. was in the middle of the boxcar next to a big container used by the men to relieve themselves. “Oh Lord,” he said laughing, “I didn’t like sitting there.” He continued on describing his ride in the forty & eight saying, “I thought to myself, ‘If I could just work my way back to the corner of this boxcar, I could lean up against the side and rest my head and back. How nice that would be.'” So G.G. began shrugging and pushing, which the other men cussed and fussed at him for. Finally he made his way to the corner he had eagerly scouted out. He leaned back, putting his head to one side and all he could hear was ‘bump, bump bump, bump…’ There was no sleep for this soldier. G.G. remembered the train coming up off the tracks for a split second and then slamming back down.

That’s how the 75^th crossed into France to fight with the French 1^st Army, who had been struggling against the Germans, in the battle of Colmar Pocket. “Oooh boy. Those Germans really let in on. us,” recalled G.G. He was unsure if he would make it through the battle so he kept a picture of his wife and little boy next to his heart thinking that if he died, maybe they would bury him with it. He did make it through that battle and was awarded the Croix de guerre for his efforts. Food was scarce at times and one of the things the French soldiers would do was to put chicken coops on their armored tanks and then go out to local farms to gather whatever sources of meat they could find, including chickens and pigs. They would then put the animals in the coops and tie the coops back to the tanks, taking the animals into battle with them.

The men soon headed into Holland where G.G. says the war had been quite tough. He recalled a pub whose owners had left because of the intense fighting but who didn’t lock it up on their hasty retreat. The men went on in and enjoyed the variety and wealth of drinks and snacks to be had. G.G. snotted a radio set which he turned on to see if there was anything worth tuning in to. The broadcast just happened to be the Grand Ole Opry in Nashville, Tennessee. Uncle Dave Macon and his son Dorris were performing.

That same evening, in a big farm house, the men drew straws to see who would go out on a recon mission and report back where the enemy was and so forth. One of G.G.’s pals ended up as one that drew a short straw and that fella was downright angry about it. Not that he was trying to shirk his duty but rather because he had this nagging feeling that he wouldn’t make it back alive. In his eyes it was a death sentence. The soldier decided to write a letter home telling his family how much-he loved them and such. He asked G.G. to mail it, explaining the 6^th sense about his death that he had. G.G. told him that he couldn’t send a letter like that and that he would safely return. The next morning, the rest of the men headed out and found the young man dead, his goodbye letter covered in blood. G.G. said he wishes to this day that he had at least gotten the contact info of his buddy’s family so he could tell them that story.

For roughly 7-10 days, the men fought in a fierce battle and finally made their way to the river Rhine. “Those combat engineers… .1 gotta give them credit,” G.G. said. They went up on the bridge and tried to repair it so the men could cross into Germany. G.G. would watch them at night Time after time he saw a body fall off the bridge and into the river below, having been shot by the enemy. On one night in particular, he recalls standing in a building watching through a window as the night skies lit up like a 4^m of July celebration in America. Suddenly a plane came along and was firing tracer ammo beneath his feet. Thinking to himself, ‘This is a little too close for comfort’, he ran and^jove.beneath a bed which had a spring sticking out that scratched his back to pieces. One of his fellow soldiers ribbed him about these injuries ‘received in action’ saying that G.G. could get himself a purple heart. G.G. told the guy he didn’t want any part of a Purple Heart, especially for such minor injuries. He explained that he now had a little boy back home and one day that little boy would be asking his daddy how he got that Purple Heart G. G. did not want to be in such a predicament.

The 75^w fought for an extended period in the area. All the time the men had been building a pontoon bridge, which is how the men ended up getting across the river Rhine into Germany They headed out early one morning that was thick in fog and on the other side of the river there was yet another horrible sight that would leave its mark on the memory of all those who witnessed it. The trees had no leaves on them whatsoever but something was hung in the branches. Upon getting a closer look the men realized it was the flesh and body parts of the dead strewn about throughout the branches, As the men made their way through various German towns, G.G. said that many of the Germans willingly surrendered because they were as sick of the war as the Allies were.

When the 75^th came into one German town, they found a barbershop where some of the men decided to stop in to get a haircut and shave. One of the group would stand watch over the others while they, were getting some proper grooming. The soldier, who was standing guard while G.G. and another were in the barber chairs, left his post early when a chair became available but before someone else could keep guard. G.G. said he was a bit nervous that the German barbers might cut their throats with the razors and drag them out back with no one the wiser. Thankfully nothing of the sort occurred and the men tipped the barbers VERY well for the services provided.

At this time it was coming into spring and the snow was beginning to melt. C.G.’s group needed to get their kitchen truck across a stream but it was too deep to simply drive through, So G.G. decided to take one for the team and wade across the stream, whose waters were still freezing, in order to hook a winch cable from the truck to a tree. While he was doing this, an enemy plane began strafing them. Bark was flying off the trees as they were hit and G.G. was behind one of those very trees, He ended up diving into the water for safety and it worked!

When the war with Germany ended, G.G. was assigned to occupational forces in France, while awaiting orders to head out to Japan. “Thank the Lord for the Atom bomb,” CO commented. During his time with the occupation forces, he and the other Allies got to know their one time enemy. G.G. was a part of every battle from the Battle of the Bulge on to Berlin (where they stopped outside and allowed the Russians to take over) and was among those who safely returned home but not without some physical and many emotional scars.

The 75^th also fought alongside the British and G.G. remembers how every afternoon round the same time they would have a spot of tea. Bullets would be a flying but the British would still take time out to have their tea. “I don’t know if they were tough, crazy, or if they just loved their tea,” G.G, said of this tradition

The Division fought through France and came to the Siegfried Line on or about September 12. 1944 After weeks of battle in this area , we were sent to combat in the Huertgen Forest near Vossenack and Schmidt. During this battle companies were reduced in manpower by 50% or higher. Replacements kept coming and some did not stay long. The entire Division was reduced We were relieved of this position on November 15th.

The regiment was sent to Bastendorf Luxembourg for rest and relaxation and again to receive new replacements. It was necessary to train some of these men because they were not familiar with the weapons of our company. Most of them were trained as riflemen back in the United States.

In December, we were sent to the Ardennes.Since this was considered a “dead” front the Division was scattered over a lot of territory.The main purpose was to patrol and contain the enemy east of the Our River. This front was approximately 25 miles. Our company was scattered over a ten mile stretch. The 1st section of the 2nd platoon of which I was a member(about 12 men) and 2 machine guns occupied a village by the name of Heinerscheid in Luxembourg. The second section (the same strength) was located in Marnach, about 5 mile from us. This was about December 10. Also in the village were some riflemen and a squad (6 men) and their 81 mm mortar.
Our group occupied a four or five room house. In one of the back rooms we had a machine gun mounted in the window that was surrounded by sandbags. Outside near the house, our two jeeps were parked in sheds. We blacked out the windows in the kitchen and other room so we could have some light from candles at night. We were told to stay on the street and walks since some of the yards and other grassy areas were possibly mined It wasn’t advisable to walk around at night since there was a possibility you might get shot since the enemy was not far off and infiltration was very possible even though there had not been any activity in this area for some time.

At Heinerscheid, our two jeeps in connection with two jeeps in Marnach had patrol duty. A jeep with one mounted machine gun on the dash area and two men besides the driver would go from Heinerscheid to Hostengin and report if everything was O.K. Then backtrack and on to Marnach to do the same.The route covered was about 15 or 20 miles round trip. The route for the men in Marnach was similar. The entire road known as “Purple Heart” Road was under German observation most of the trip. The trip was taken every two hours, the groups alternating from daylight to dusk. Needless to say, you felt like a duck in a shooting gallery because of the sight of blown up trucks and jeeps along the road. Many a driver and crew had a few “Schnapps” beforehand to help out. We were told by intelligence that there were only some “old” men across the Our River and not to panicky. They may have been old men, but we felt they probably had some young men doing the spotting and firing.

After several days of this duty,we were suddenly awakened on the morning of December 16 and were told that enemy patrols were seen crossing the river and coming towards us at about 0800 hrs. Every one hurried to get additional ammo from the jeep trailers. The Germans started to attack about noon and gun fire was getting closer. From our gun position we could see the enemy advancing. We asked for mortar fire about 2 PM and were told we would have to direct the fire since they could not spare anyone to do it. Even though I had never done it, I gave the directions by phone for the target. Since they were limited on their ammo, they could not keep up with it. Along about 4 PM the attack seemed to halt. We of course kept on guard at our gun position and the front door of the house. We had short hitches on our guard duty so as to have alert personnel watching for any movement. Our other darkened room was lit by candles and there the men came in after guard duty and drank coffee that was made on a small gasoline stove issued to us and smoked cigarettes by the pack. Everyone was jittery and knew the odds for the next day.

While I was on duty with a buddy, we saw in the distance huge searchlights, not shining up, but they were horizontal.We could hear trucks and tanks moving about in the valley and knew they were getting organized. We also could here th Germans in front of, they were hollering and laughing and could see them lighting cigarettes. They were about 500 yards from the house.We didn’t dare fire at them since they would have seen our position and that would have been it for us.
We called our Company Headquarters and told them these happenings. All they said was “sit tight something is brewing at regimental”. We felt that if we could pull back a ways where moire men might be located, we would stand a better chance. Since the riflemen had gone, we were now in a jam. In a way we were glad to see daylight after a dreaded dark night. We felt sure that some of the Germans went around us. About 8AM,we heard tanks and thought they were Jerrys, but we saw they were ours, as they went by our house towards Fischbach, we counted about 25 light tanks. We were happy as we now had hope. Soon firing began by our men as Germans were spotted near the house. We then heard a tank coming and we yelled as it was retreating from Fischbach. The commander hollered “This is the only tank left” Our hope was fading fast. Our Sergeant told me I could take some of the men in my jeep and go back where there were more troops. I told him it was impossible because we were cut off from my jeep by several Nazi machine guns. He didn’t seem to believe me, but when he looked out the front door, bullets were chipping off bricks above his head. He agreed with me this time.

The situation was getting worse by the minute. Just then, one of our men hollered and said that there was German tank up the road headed our way. We knew we could not go out the front door and the rear door was in the direction of the push. We tried a locked door going to a side room that we had never been in before. We used an axe that we had to chop open the door. There we saw another door that would lead us out the side of the house. We got it open and the Sergeant said “Every man for himself.” We ran across the yards of other houses. A wire fence about 4′ high was no obstacle. I had on a long overcoat and 4 buckle artic boots and I cleared that fence with no problem, like a track star. When you’re scared you can do strange things and this was one of them. Soon we had to run on the street and wean zigzagging since machine gun bullets were zinging off the pavement.

We the ran through an orchard and an 88mm shell hit nearby wounding one of the men. We ran into a barn where we found three other comrades. We went back for the fallen man and brought him to the barn and gave him first-aid as best we could. Tanks again!!! This time they were American. There were three of them, but two turned and left, the third one was hit by a Jerry tank destroyer. One man jumped out and came in the barn. He was wounded and said he was the only one left. Again a temporary patch up was necessary. We then decided to destroy our weapons and just as we did, were noticed several Germans passing by the window and a Tiger tank turned its gun into the window.
The only thing left to do was to hold up a white handkerchief by the window.A couple of the Germans appeared to be 15 or 16 years old and very cocky. It really teed us off to be captured by a couple of kids. Of course their comrades were older. They searched us and marched us up the road and soon we were joined by other men from our outfit. As we went on we saw that most of the houses were shelled and burning and “our” house was really a mess. We sure was glad that we had gotten out of there when we did. When we walked past Fischbach it was the same shape, shot to hell. Next they took us behind a building and searched us again. This time they took cigarettes.matches, lighters and any type of food that you might have on you. They next told us to line up against a wall with our faces toward it. We all thought that this was the end of our existence. But, we lucked out as they just searched us more thoroughly.

Once more we started walking along “Purple Heart” Road and we were in a column of three’s. I was one that was in the last row. The guards stopped us and then motioned to us to go to the front of the column. Shortly we were on our way again when a mortar shell hit near the rear of the column where I had been moments before. We then ran to ditches until it was over. We felt that it was American mortars mistaken us for Krauts. A few medics came and helped those who were wounded. Others were left there. All along the way we could see more Germans,Mark V and Tiger tanks moving up. It was an eerie sight.

As we walked along the road, I noticed a jeep with two German soldiers in it driving past us. They had the windshield up and there painted on the windshield was “KNAPPENBERGER”. It was my jeep that I had to leave behind in the shed. It sure made me mad to think of the enemy driving it. We endured numerous shelling from our artillery along the way. They marched us to Marnach and put us in a crowded room in a house. There they searched us again. We figured they were looking for maps or other information that we might have. They took our watches and mine was a new one that my Mother and Father had sent to me a month or so previous. One German soldier tried to take a fellows wedding ring, but the only thing he got was a sock in the jaw from a German officer. Evidently this officer had some feelings. I had a few photos in my wallet of family and a friend, but they didn’t take them.They also let me keep my pocket sized New Testament that! always carried in my shirt pocket.

During the night, our Platoon Commander, a Lieutenant, was brought in and he was surprised to see me as someone told him that I was killed. He had a few chocolate bars on him that he managed to keep somehow and he gave them to a couple of us and said “You need these worse than I do”. We really appreciated it since we had not eaten for about a day and a half.

The next day they started us marching toward Germany and our future “home”

As was always the case, the foot soldier never was informed of anything beyond what he vas supposed to do in the immediate area. We rarely knew where we were located and, more importantly, where the enemy was located and in what strength. Our world was limited to what we could see and when it was snowing, that wasn’t very far. Following our arrival in Belgium, we were separated into separate combat units and given very vague details about what our objective was to be and the time frame in which we were to accomplish our mission. On either 12/27 or 12/28, our entire regiment (347th) moved out across snow-covered fields in a northeast direction. A battalion of Sherman tanks had been assigned to work with us.

What happened during the next few days could easily fill the pages of a book. We had not traveled very far when we came in contact with a large enemy force consisting of infantry and many German Tiger tanks with 88mm guns. For a couple of days (and nights) there were intense artillery barrages, tank battles, rifle fire and machine gun bursts. The weather prevented any air support. Within my immediate area, we lost 3 tanks from 761st Tank Battalion and countless casualties. Losses on both sides were heavy and we paid dearly for the little ground we gained.

It was either January 1 or 2, 1945 that we occupied a small hamlet of several hundred people, known as Bonne Rue. We did not learn until days later why this little village was so important and so viciously defended by the Germans. It was located adjacent to a highway that ran east and west from the area of Bastogne to St. Hubert, which was a main supply line for the advancing German forces in their drive to capture the main Belgium port of Antwerp and divide the British and American forces.

Little did we know what a hornet’s nest we had stirred up. As long as we held Bonne Rue, the Germans had to use longer and secondary routes to funnel their supplies to their advancing troops. We were truly a most unwelcome thorn in their southern flank. After occupying Bonne Rue, there was a continuous attempt to push us back south of the highway. Somehow, we managed to hold the little town. We had a large force of infantry foot soldiers around the town that repeatedly repulsed German attacks. We had 3 of our 57mm AT guns setup plus a number of bazookas to counter any tank attack.

On the morning of Jan 6th, we heard the unmistaken sound of approaching tanks. We had the AT gun set up in a small barn yard so that it couldn’t be seen until a tank was within 20 yards. We manned the gun, as we heard a tank coming down the street. I stood behind the barn door with a Thompson sub-machine gun, about 10 feet from the gun. We sent two guys around back of the barn with a bazooka. As the approaching tank came around the corner of the barn, his progress was stopped by a disabled German assault gun sitting in the street. In order for the tank to get around it, they would have to make a sharp maneuver through the barnyard. It stopped and one of German tankers opened the hatch cover and stood up so that his whole upper body was exposed. I waited for our guys to fire the AT gun, but nothing, happened. All I heard was the G— d thing won’t fire.

With that I opened up my machine gun and emptied a whole clip at the tanker. He fell from sight. The tank started to backup. I ran to the hay loft and looking down from above could see I had a perfect opportunity to lob a hand grenade in the open turret. It exploded, the tank stopped for few minutes and then slowly began to back off. Obviously there must have been a survivor. Behind the barn and house, we heard a couple of loud explosions. Our two guys with the bazooka (Walter Cassidy & Arthur Goldschmidt) had caught a tank broadside, destroying it.  (Note: That tank sits there today as a memorial to our squad and that battle.) Later I learned the reason our gun would not fire was due to the fact they forgot to release the safety on the firing mechanism.

In hind sight, it was probably a blessing because at such close range the exploding shell from our gun could well have injured or killed us with flying shrapnel. Our other two 57mm guns were destroyed by tank fire with a number of casualties. We were surrounded by infantry, but when one tank was destroyed and another seriously damaged, there was a general withdrawal to several hundred yards out of town. We had stopped a major attempt to reach the highway. The two men (see above) who destroyed the tank with the bazooka were awarded the Silver Star and given promotions to rank of sergeant. I was awarded the Bronze Star. After things had quieted down and we realized just what we had been through, we all experienced an after shock of severe shakes that lasted for several hours some people call it combat fatigue. During the engagement, you never think about the danger you are facing. It is only after the fact that you realize that it could have been your final moments on earth. Under cover of darkness, we were relieved and took off to St. Hubert. We arrived about the same time as the Free French Forces of The Interior (FFI) and shared in the liberation of St. Hubert. We were elated that none of our squad of eight was injured or killed.

Footnote: As of today, the residents of Bonne Rue remain grateful for what we did in liberating the town for their parents and grandparents. One local citizen is writing a book about the events of those winter days in 1944-5. I have had the pleasure of exchanging information with him via e-mail and regular mail. It is gratifying to know our mission has not been forgotten after all these years.

It was at Simmerath, Germany where I first saw the proximity fuse in use by a new type Tank Destroyer. It was larger and distinctly different from any TDs that I had seen. The bogie wheels were larger and evenly spaced. It also mounted a long barreled 90mm gun. Later, I found that this was the M-36 TD.

I was intrigued by the consistent height of the air bursts–all appeared to explode about thirty feet above the ground near the Siegfried Line pillboxes at the base of the slope, about 600 yards from our position. When I asked the gunner how he set his fuses so accurately to get such uniform air-bursts, he replied that a magnet in the shell’s nose caused it to exploded automatically at the desired distance above the ground.

I said that it could not be a magnet–it would have to be done by some type of radio signal. But a radio transceiver (transmitter and receiver) built into an artillery shell — impossible! I had no ready answer and learned only later that my initial assumption had been correct.

Through our binoculars we observed German ambulances making multiple daylight runs to the Siegfried pillboxes at the base of the slope. This appeared suspicious and we thought that they might be bringing in ammunition, food or other supplies in the ambulances, even though this would have been a violation of the Geneva Convention—most German regular army units were usually quite scrupulous in abiding by its dictates. The proximity fuse may well have been the reason for all the ambulance runs that we had observed.

The US began work on the proximity fuse in 1940 and successfully brought it into operation in late 1942. The Germans and British had been working on the fuse for several years, but had failed to develop it. It was first used in the ETO on 12 June 1944 against the buzz-bombs in England and was later in use at Antwerp. US navy gunners had used it against Japanese planes in January 1943, from the USS Helena.

In chapter 4 of “War as I Knew It”, General George Patton stated “the night of December 25 and 2 6 we had used the new proximity fuse on a number of Germans near Echternach and actually killed 700 of them.” This action was during 3rd Army’s move north to Bastogne, and was the first documented use of the fuse against ground forces. It is my belief that we had seen the proximity fuse in use several weeks earlier, even though many WWII authors have stated that it was first used on the continent during the Bulge.

This was well before the Bulge, and should remove all doubt that its use at Simmerath was possible. My belief is reinforced by the explanation of its operation by the gunner, and—although flawed–was a reasonable explanation from an unsophisticated gunner! Because the fuse had been used in England and Antwerp, this Tank Destroyer may have been there and could have carried some proximity rounds to Simmerath. Regardless of how they arrived, I firmly believe they were there and that I had seen the proximity fuse as previously stated!

AN INFANTRYMAN REMEMBERS II
by James Powers, 11^th AD, 55^th AIB

Tonight my home is a hole in the frozen ground.

It was the same last night and the night before.

If I am fortunate, I’ll be in another one tomorrow night.

My dinner is cold from a camouflaged box.

My dirty, ragged blanket is almost covered by mud and snow.

While my uniform clashes with the whiteness that surrounds me.

If I had a sheet, I’d wrap in it and be hidden from the enemy.

I am an outpost without friends ahead.

Stretched behind me is the needed support for my fight.

The battle continues on an epic scale, but for me

The epicenter is here, a forsaken, only temporary hole.

We fight in small groups, relying on instinct and prayer,

Unaware of what decisions are being made for us in the rear.

Wars are not won in large scale battles,

But rather in small skirmishes by lonesome dedicated troops

Who sometimes have no clear orders from those in charge higher up.

Hungry, cold, tired, dirty, duty is our leadership.

Some troops farther back have shelter, hot food, a decent bed,

And comfort in knowing that they won’t be shelled tonight.

I am fortunate that I lived to tell the story of many of those

Who perished too young to leave their mark.

They are the heroes, the too soon forgotten ones

To whom their country owes a debt of immeasurable gratitude.