The Bulge, No Need to Dream of a White Christmas
by Robert Cragg, 26^th ID, 104^th IR, 2^nd Bn, HQ

Lieutenant Jim Bailey was a terrific officer; a good leader, brave, cautious, considerate, knew his business and above all was well thought of by his superiors and subordinates. Yes, he was adept at politics and well aware that risk to life and limb was inversely proportional to the distance one was from the front lines. The success of our patrol group under Bailey’s leadership did not go unrecognized throughout the Regiment as well as the Division. It is not surprising then, in retrospect, to understand how, in the several days we were in Metz, Jim had talked the Colonel into including a Special Patrol Section in the 104^th Regimental Headquarters Company. And just who formed the group ? Bailey as leader; Jack Bombard, Tech Sgt (Bailey’s former Platoon Sergeant from “G” Company); Phil Lounsberry; the “Chief, Ed Limes and myself The others from our original group remained with 2^nd Battalion with Sgt. Bob Snyder as leader.

The change for us was that, when not on patrol, we were a bit further from the front lines. However; our patrol objectives became somewhat more difficult since we were now responsible to a higher echelon of command who were greatly more critical about obtaining results.

Luxembourg was well into winter when we arrived – it was cold, the ground was snow covered and it continued snowing off and on until we left in late January. Our quick change in orders didnt allow time to outfit the troops in winter clothing – many were without overcoats and had only medium weight or fatigue jackets and none of us had decent foot wear such a “snow-pacs”, although a few did scrounge galoshes. I was lucky because I had in some way obtained a set of tanker’s coveralls and jacket. These were ideal as they were heavy cotton twill lined with a wool blanket – warm, weather resistant and permitted maximum flexibility and comfort. Within a day or so after engaging the Germans we were issued white camouflage suits – a mixed blessing; when in snow – great; but with dark woods as a background, you stood out like a sore thumb. On patrol we rarely wore them.

The Kraut offensive was six days old and the confusion of their whereabouts was great – our Intelligence did not know just where they were. Accordingly, our orders were direct – Go north, through the snow storm until you bump into them. We had been sent forward of the column of Battalions, the 2^nd leading, and observed a column of Germans proceeding south. After we reported to Regimental Headquarters the 2^nd Battalion engaged the Germans as they came face to face going opposite directions on the same road. Combat again; fighting in Lorraine was tough but the Bulge was rougher and tougher. It seemed everything was against us: the weather – snow and bitter cold; the terrain -rugged hills and dense woods; the enemy – fanatic troops, SS, Parachute and Panzer Divisions who were feverishly fighting in a tremendous effort to split the Allied Forces in two and drive a wedge completely through Belgium to Antwerp. The further north we advanced the stiffer the resistance became.

Christmas Eve, 1944, found us in Grosbous, Luxembourg, a few miles north of where we had first engaged the enemy. The line companies were several hundred yards forward attempting to drive the Germans from other villages, Dellen and Eschdorf. Our section and a several others were in a house still occupied by the owners – a family of four; two parents and their daughters in their early teens. In one of the “Care Packages” I received from home had been a doll or some other small gift to ” – give to a little French girl”. I believe some others had a trinket or so which we all gave to the Luxembourg lassies together with “Ho-Ho’s and Bon Noels” all around. Phil and I attended a Christmas Eve Service conducted by the Regimental Chaplain in a barn complete with cows, a couple of sheep and the aromas attendant to such a location. The hood of the Chaplain’s Jeep served as the altar as we sang a few carols with the strained chords of a portable organ as accompaniment, the Chaplain delivered a short message (which I don’t recall), no collection was taken and the service was hastily disbanded because some invasive artillery was landing too close for comfort. The barrage ceased shortly after returning to our billet and I was writing letters when Bailey called us all together. I was shocked when he informed us that someone had attempted raping one of the little girls. Not an adult but barely a teenager. Crap what next! Fortunately, this little girt suffered no apparent physical damage; emotional, who knows.

One by one we were taken face to face with the girt for identification of the culprit. Of course we were nervous, for who could predict how accurately an emotionally upset little girt could identify a stranger’s face that she had seen only in a darkened room. However, she identified the same individual repeatedly. What a sad way to celebrate Christmas. The end of the story – the culprit was subsequently court-martialed and sentenced (I believe to execution). Amongst others I testified at the proceedings held in Grosbous in January, 1945. Dellen, Luxembourg was a picture perfect Christmas Day, 1944 – snow covered the ground under a magnificent, cloudless blue sky. Bailey had come across a camera and film so we had a photo-op. Also, one of the residents, who had elected to remain during the battle, shared some of her freshly baked cookies with us. Really nice, as I’m certain the ingredients were difficult to come by. The clear skies made it possible for our air force to actively return to the skies – and that they did ! We had ring side seats as they pounded the enemy positions with devastating strafing and bombing runs. This. to us, was like manna from heaven – too bad the pilots couldn’t hear our cheers.

At this time we were on the right flank of the 4^th Armored Division as they were heading toward relief of the troops surrounded in Bastogne. On December 26 the 2^nd Battalion forced a crossing of the Sure River at Esch-Sur-la-Sure and continued north, leaving the Division’s entire right flank badly exposed since the 80^th Division, on our right, was unsuccessful in their attempts to establish a bridgehead across the Sure. Of particular concern was a tunnel through the mountain east of Esch-Sur. On the night of December 27 Bailey was ordered to send a patrol to reconnoiter the road from Esch-Sur to the intersection of the north/south road just beyond the tunnel. We were badly informed about the lagging 80^th Division and the fact they were still south of the river. Thinking this patrol would be a piece of cake, since we had been instructed to avoid fire fights, just Bailey, Phil and I journeyed forth.

The two lane road clung to mountain on one side and dropped off to the river on the other. Bailey was to bring up the rear while Phil was on the river side and I was on the inside of the road. Our plan was to continue until we met the enemy; if and when we did it was every one for himself to return to headquarters with the information. We truly thought any contact we made would be with troops of the 80^th Division.Since the bridge leading out of Esch-Sur was demolished we had to scramble across the river as best we could to pick up the road on the far side. Going east we spotted a number of land mines spread around but came across no troops; we had some concern about the tunnel as it would be ideal for concealing Kraut troops and tanks but so far so good. Our good luck petered out just as we approached the tunnel when a loud “Halten zee !!” was shouted. Hearing no password in reply the Germans opened up with an MG-42 machine gun. As planned Bailey, bringing up the rear, and Phil, on the river side of the road, took off; me -1 did my best to merge into the mountain side. An MG-42 has a rate of fire of about 2000 rounds a minute; with a tracer every fifth round each burst looked like a thin beam of white tight going down the road. It seemed I was pretty well trapped as the escape route was some distance away across the line of fire and across the road.

Although I was happy for contributing to the Red Cross since it appeared highly likely I might shortly be in a position to receive some of their POW packages; my immediate thoughts were how to get out of this predicament. One thing the Chief had taught us was patience – keep quiet and dont do anything rash. Sure enough, shortly the curiosity of the Germans got the better of them; the firing stopped and one or two came out to investigate. It was my opportunity -1 jumped up, dashed across the road firing my “grease gun” toward the tunnel mouth, went over the bank and down toward the river. In the mad scramble I lost my helmet, grease gun, one boot and a couple grenades – fortunately the Germans were probably just as surprised as I since they gave no chase. Later I caught up with Bailey and Phil in Esch-Surjust as they were reporting to the CO and suggesting that I probably wouldn’t make it back. The next day I scavenged some replacement equipment; but, the Chief, whose grease gun I’d borrowed, was a bit upset because I couldn’t come up with another. We returned that day to take and hold the tunnel until reinforcements arrived.

Early in January, 1945, Bailey got great news that he was one of the first to be given a 30 day rotational leave and would be transported to continental USA, courtesy of the Army, for some welcome R & R. When he left Sgt. Jack Bombard assumed leadership of our group. As we got closer to Wiltz, a good sized city for Luxembourg, German resistance stiffened, the fighting was fierce and advances very limited. By this time it was evident the German effort to break through to capture their initial objective, Liege, would not be accomplished. Therefore, they were forced into the position of salvaging what they could while protecting their flanks so that some order could be maintained in their withdrawal. Wiltz, which was our primary objective, a hub for several important highways was situated atop a mountain and commanded all the surrounding terrain. It was mandatory for the Germans to defend it at all costs – which they stubbornly did. Such a situation dictated constant patrolling, seeking out locations and disposition of enemy forces; maintaining contact with other outfits on our flanks and guarding against any surprises initiated by the Germans. Conditions were miserable -cold, snowy, thick woods and difficult terrain; the Germans had their backs against the wall and were determined in their fighting to prevent us from getting a strangle hold on the neck of the Bulge.

They were aggressively patrolling. On more than one occasion we encountered their patrols, at times almost bumping into one another. Any firefights were usually short and in all we only had one fatality, a replacement with us just a couple of days, whose name I don’t recall. Our missions on these nightly patrols were pretty much the same each time we went out – probe around trying to find weak points in the German lines, try to pick up a prisoner, locate their heavily defended positions, etc. This latter was usually easy, however nerve racking, since the Germans were quick to use flares at the first sign of any activity to their front. As soon as they heard any noises or thought they saw any movement, up went the flares followed by raking small arms and machine gun fire together with supporting mortar shells if necessary. It could get a bit testy.

One night after being driven back by harassing fire we were returning to our lines, following a trail through the woods as a couple of men in camouflage suits approached. It was nutty, we literally bumped into them – not knowing if they were friend or foe. One of our guys challenged them for the password. Their reaction was to scramble and shout a few commands in German – we hit the dirt and several shots were fired. Now it was a game of hide and seek – they wanted to return with a prisoner, just as we did, but no one wanted to take their turn in the barrel. In the dark of the woods our patrol was separated and shortly I lost track of the German I was following and found my way back to the command post. The only other who had not yet returned was Jack Bombard. Some time later he straggled in, a bit worse for the wear; a couple from the German patrol had gotten on his tail and had a merry chase through the woods before he ultimately gave them the slip. An incomplete mission – the only comforting thought was that the Germans were no more successful than we in picking up a prisoner.

Due to the stalemate at Wiltz the Regimental CP remained in Esch-Sur over a week. This was terrific when we weren’t on patrol as we were billeted indoors. Esch-Sur was nestled among the mountains which folded together in such a manner as to cause one to wonder how to get into or out of the town. Along the river the mountainside was nearly vertical for several hundred feet. We were in a house adjacent to the river bank and took comfort in the belief the mountainside would shield us from any artillery or mortar fire. Sporadic artillery fire did rain on other sections of the town but none came close to our billet. Thus we felt quite comfortable in undressing down to our long Johns when slipping into our sleeping bags – the first we’d had such a luxury since mid-December in Metz.

This worked well for a couple of nights and then our house took a hit by a white phosphorus shell into the window of our room. Set the room on fire, which spread to a jeep parked by the front door, and urged us to scramble with whatever few possessions we could quickly gather up, which was precious little. I got out with only what I was wearing. Lost were my weapons, clothes, shoes, helmet, personal items and maps that I had been collecting of where we had been; gone but not forgotten. Can you imagine the lot of us running down the street in our bvd’s in the middle of the night when the temperature was well below freezing, dodging incoming artillery and trying to find another shelter ? You’ve got the picture. It took a couple of days but the supply sergeant rounded everything up, less a 0.45 automatic for me.

Jack Bombard was a good sergeant but he didn’t have the Regimental S-2 Officer’s ear as Bailey did. After the middle of January we had fewer regimental patrols and were shortly transferred back to our original battalion headquarters companies. This was a rude awakening because 2^nd Battalion Headquarters was located in Budershied, a small town further forward. The town was exposed and under direct observation by the Germans resulting in constant artillery fire; in fact, it was such a hot spot it became known as “88 Junction”. Several days after we arrived Wiltz was taken and once again we advanced as the Bulge broke down and the Germans retreated toward their homeland. By the end of January we were out of it and about to be trucked south to positions along the Saar River in Saariautem.

The six weeks we spent in the Bulge were the most difficult of our time in combat. The weather was against us – snow was all over, the temperatures extremely cold – water would freeze in your canteen and the artillery constant, heavy and very accurate. Our clothing was not suitable for such conditions – overcoats were so bulky body movement was dangerously impaired; it was difficult, almost impossible to manipulate a rifle with one on; gloves were neither warm nor weatherproof; shoes froze stiff and galoshes were impossible to wear. True to Army efficiency, we finally got sno-pacs to replace our combat boots the day before we were sent south – it then took some time to get combat boots back since our new zone was too warm for sno-pacs. On the plus side many things were done well by the Army. In our Division, mail and packages were delivered almost daily, cigarettes were plentiful, we normally had sufficient rations (not hot meals but food at least) and newspapers – “Stars and Stripes”, “YD Grapevine” and “Yank” magazine were delivered regularly.

After four months in combat I became a changed person, no doubt we all did. It’s curious what over sixty combat patrols will do for one. Combat is a frightening business, indeed, and at times terrifying. Yes, I had confronted death often, face to face; yet I was one of the lucky ones because I walked out of the valley. I was scared – all of us were; it would be difficult to believe anyone who claimed not to be. It wasn’t the possibility of instant death that was most frightening, but of being severely wounded – losing limbs, receiving disabling head and abdominal wounds, becoming a basket case, spending hours in severe pain as the battle continued, ending up a burden to society – that was very scary. Most always the front put on to joke about our situation, make light of the last patrol or anticipation of the next one, was just that; a front to masquerade the fact we were scared. After all, most would do anything to avoid looking bad in the eyes of his buddies and fellow infantrymen.

Witnessing death; injuring, maiming and mutilating human and animal bodies was an accepted occurrence and practice. Participating in the destruction of persons and properties became a way of life -it was destroy to avoid being destroyed. Many perspectives, attitudes and actions changed. Early on, patrols were undertaken with a very cavalier, “hell-bent-for-leather” acceptance; “Let’s move it, by George, we’re going to do this thing and the devil take the hindmost”. Now we approached our missions with more thought and caution, (I hesitate to suggest more maturity. Is there a mature way to wrack havoc and death upon your foes?), more planning as to what each was to do if things went right or wrong and more concern for others and a better understanding as to how other patrol members would react. It’s not certain that we performed our jobs any better since we had lost some of our prior elan and were less flamboyant in completing our missions. However, it is certain that none of us backed away from any of our responsibilities.

And, finally, I came to an understanding just how fragile life is and that death does not respect age, sex, race, social status, education or any other security blanket to which we might cling. No, I did not become a “foxhole” Christian; after all, I had been brought up in a family that believed in God and Jesus Christ and stressed the need for including Christian principles and teachings in all areas of our lives – they also believed regular church attendance was absolutely necessary. My faith was strengthened during these months and I truly believed we were fighting for a just cause. Yes, I had changed – hopefully for the better.

My Life in the 55^th Armored Infantry Battalion
by Homer Olson, Company B

On December 7, 1941, came the bombing of Pearl Harbor by the Japanese. This changed everything for the whole world and us. Our government rationed many things to the civilians; every thing went to the military.

In March 1942, I went to work for the northern oil pumping wells with Ralph Bennett. That was a good job and we got along well together. Many of my friends were volunteering and being drafted into the military. I don’t like water, so I didn’t want the Navy. Because of my bad ears, I couldn’t get into the Air Force. So I waited for the draft. I turned twenty years on September 15,1942.1 was put in class 1 -A and passed my physical in Erie, Pennsylvania on November 4.1 left on the train November 18, from Ridgeway, Pennsylvania because we lived in Elkco. That day, I kissed my mother and hugged my dad for the first time in my adult life. It was a sad day for them and for all of us. Our induction center was at New Cumberland, Pennsylvania. We were there for three days getting our uniforms, shots, and etc. We were put on a train and four days later we were in Camp Polk, Louisiana. It was a big camp, with two armored divisions there. I was assigned to Company B. 55th Armored Infantry Battalion that I stayed in for the next three years. (They broke us up in August 1945 down in Austria).

We took four months of basic training, there at Camp Polk, and then went on the Louisiana maneuvers for two months. It was pretty rough on most of us – we were busy all the time. We learned to shoot and qualify with the M-l rifle, all of the machine guns, pistol, mortar, hand-grenade and etc. We did a lot of close order drill and many road marches. The longest was a 30-mile hike, with light packs. I didn’t like the bayonet drill and was glad that I never had to use one.

The weather was wet and chilly there and 1 caught a cold and high fever. They put me in the hospital for a few days. That is where I spent Christmas of 1942. We learned a lot in those first few months. A big thing was learning to live together in close quarters. Most guys were great, but there are always a few “bastards.” Some got homesick. I never did, but did get lonesome some times.

About once a month, everyone got kitchen, police, latrine duty and a twenty-four hour guard duty. This is where I learned to clean toilets. On one wall there were three long urinals. Another wall was the sinks and mirrors and on another wall were ten commodes. The showers were back in farther. That place was a madhouse. Every morning, after breakfast, you had no privacy and you couldn’t be bashful. Each company had their own bugler and all the calls were with a bugle. Reveilles, chow call for three meals, and work calls at 8:00 AM and 1:00 PM. Retreat at 5:30 PM and lights out at 9:30 PM with Taps at 11:00 PM. We got up at 5:45 each morning and breakfast was at 7:00. In that hour and fifteen minutes you got dressed, stood reveille, made your bed, mopped the floor around your bunk, made sure your clothes were okay and shoes shined, and fifteen minutes of calisthenics. It sure was a different life style, but it went pretty well if you made up your mind to it. I got a ten-day leave and came home in April after the Basic Training was over.

Pay day was the first day of the month. Fifty dollars in cash was what you got paid. After deductions of insurance, bonds, and laundry, $35.25 was left. Sometimes they would pull a “short-arm” inspection on pay day. This was to check for venereal diseases. The uniform for that hour was shoes and raincoats. A doctor would be sitting on a chair in our day room. We lined up outside and when you got in to see him you opened you raincoat and squeezed you penis. If there was any fluid, you went on sick call and didn’t get paid.

In May and June we were on maneuvers in Louisiana and West Texas. Lots of mosquitoes, snakes and dust. When this was over, we moved to Camp Barkeley, Texas near Abilene. I was assigned to a half track there and became a driver. I liked this better, as I always liked to drive anything. That fall, I was sent to Fort Knox, Kentucky to mechanic school for three months. Gene Foster of B Company 55th AIB was also there and we got to know a couple of girls in Louisville. We would see them on weekends, sometimes.

While we were in Fort Knox, the 11th Armored Division moved to the Mojave Desert near Needles, California for desert maneuvers. When we were done with school, I got my papers, train ticket, and also a five-day “delay in route”, so I went home for three days. On Christmas Day of 1943,1 was on the train headed for Needles. We finished maneuvers in February and went to Camp Cooke, California near Santa Maria. We went to Los Angeles and Santa Barbara some weekends. Usually, we went to Santa Maria. Many of my friends were Italians and we would go to Santa Maria for Italian food on Saturday night and then to the Palamino Bar. If we didn’t catch the bus back to Camp, we would sleep in the USO Club on a pool table or a chair.

Early in September, we were put on a troop train headed for Camp Kilmer, New Jersey and then overseas. That was a nice train ride. It was a long train with two steam engines on front and five steam engines pushing in the rear. We went through thirty-seven tunnels, going from California to Denver. There were two kitchen cars in the middle of the train. The front one served the front half of the train and the back car, the back half. We ate well, two times a day. They stopped once a day and we got off to walked and exercise. It took six days and five nights to get to Camp Kilmer, New Jersey. After a few days passed, we went by train to New York and on to a ship, the USS Hermitage. It was an experience, having your name called and walking up the long “gang plank” and knowing that you were leaving your homeland. The duffel bag that we carried was quite heavy. They put us on a deck down below the water line. It was crowded. The bunks were five high. The lights were not bright enough so that we could read a little and play poker and shoot crap. These were on the floor wherever we could find a place to put a blanket down. There were poker games, going on some place, twenty-four hours a day.

There were five thousand of us on this ship and they told us there were sixty ships in the convoy. Each ship was a mile apart so we couldn’t see all of them when we were allowed up on the top deck. We had a Navy escort: the Destroyer Escorts. They would zigzag between the ships looking for submarines. I got a little sea sick at times, but not bad. We got fed twice daily and I could usually eat a little. We ate standing up with our trays on a bar. You had to hang on to the bar, your tray, and hit your mouth with your spoon. The ship was rolling in some direction all the time.

We were thirteen days on the ship and landed in Southampton, England around October 3rd. They put us on a train and took us to a small camp between Tisbury and Hinden, about ninety miles from London. We didn’t do much training in England, just a few hikes now and then. Over a period of time we got our equipment which consisted of tanks, trucks, jeeps, half-tracks guns, ammunition, and rations.

We were given some two-day passes. I went to Bristol once and London twice. One pass that I had to London, was the day before payday and then payday. An English pound was worth $4.09 at that time. The first night that we were there, the price for a woman, all night, was one pound. The next night (payday) the price was four pounds. We didn’t bother the women that night.

Early in December, we crossed the English Channel. The drivers went with their vehicles, tanks, half­tracks, trucks and jeeps in a “landing ship tanks” (LST). The front of the LST opened up and we drove up into it and turned around so that you faced out. This way you could drive straight out onto the beach when they opened up. We were on this ship for twenty-four hours and landed near Cherbourg, France. We drove to fields near Rennes, France. It took three days for our division to assemble there.

That night, out in the channel, there was a submarine alert. They stopped the ship and killed the engines. We were “bobbing” around out there in that flat bottom ship. Each driver had to pull a two-hour fireguard in the tank deck with a guy on each end. My time was midnight to 2:00 am. It was hot down there and very strong gasoline fumes. I got seasick and “threw-up” a few times, until there was no more to come up and I just “gagged”. I was sure glad when 2:00 am came so I could lie down again.

After the division got all together, we started to move inland. Then an order came down to change course and go North. When we got up to Rhiems, France we heard about the German breakthrough in Belgium – making what they called the “Bulge”. We hit snow and cold weather up there. From here on things and places are vague and hazy. I know that we spent Christmas day in Belgium somewhere. It was cold.

We were in reserve for a couple of days and then they gave us a small town to take. We didn’t get it that afternoon. We had a counter attack that night and the Germans took nineteen guys from our company prisoner. I remember that one guy was taking twelve German prisoners back and one was wounded and couldn’t walk fast enough, so he shot him there on the road. I thought to myself “what the hell is going on here? This is terrible”. After awhile, you get used to these things and if you want to survive you can become pretty cruel.

The Germans had Bastogne surrounded for many days. Most of the 101st Airborne Division was in there. The 4th Armored got in there first from the south. We got in a day or two later from the northwest. That was a happy day for everyone.

We started moving again, taking small towns, clearing woods, and slowly closing the Bulge. It was cold and the snow was quite deep. There was lots of frostbite on the fingers and toes. We threw away our shoes and cut up GI blankets into strips about six inches wide and wrapped our feet and legs. We then put our feet into four buckle overshoes, which we had. I went to the Aid Station one time and they painted my toes with something. I just lost a couple of nails. At one time, I had on two pairs of long underwear, two pairs of pants, two shirts, a woolen GI sweater, and a field jacket. It is unbelievable what the human body can stand – both mental and physical. Some people are stronger than others are – so some “broke down” – it was nothing to be ashamed of. I know that prayers helped a lot.

Every letter, that I wrote home, I asked Mom and Dad to send gloves, handkerchiefs, and socks. I carried them in my seat cushion, in my halftrack, and gave most of them to my buddies. They nicknamed me “Mother Olson”. One time, I asked Mom to send us a chocolate cake with frosting and walnuts on top. She did and it came in about five weeks. The walnuts were green with mold, so we threw them away and made quick work of that cake.

I remember one town near Longchamps in Belgium. We got the hell knocked out of us going in. We cleared the town and stayed there that night. The next day was bright and sunny. We could see some dead Germans laying in the snow, up in a field, near some woods. We found a long piece of rope and went up there. There were twelve lying frozen in many positions. Sometimes the Germans would “booby- trap” their dead. We would tie the rope around a leg and drag them a ways and make sure there were no wires attached to the bodies. Then we looked for watches and pistols. I remember one that I rolled over. His face was gone from the forehead down.

One time, there were several of us “dug-in” along a dirt road, in some woods with lots of pine trees. A jeep came down the road and stopped. It was a Lutheran chaplain from another unit. He asked if we wanted a prayer and communion. Of course we did. We were Catholics, Jews and etc. But it made no difference. We got on our knees in the snow with our helmets on, and weapons slung on our shoulders. He had some bread and bottles of wine and poured the wine in our canteen cup. A few shells landed fairly close but no one ran to their holes. He never stopped pouring the wine. We all felt better after he left.

One time they pulled us back in reserve for a few days. We got some replacements, supplies and hot food from our kitchen. We were “dug in” (two man foxholes). Anderson and I usually dug in together (he was a swell guy). He drove second track and I drove first track. We were getting a lot of artillery and mortar fire. Also, the Germans had a weapon that fired a shell like a mortar or a small bomb. We called them “screaming mimis”. They mostly came at night and scared hell out of you. We were cold, wet and lying in our hole one night when things were coming in pretty heavy. I started to shake and shiver and just couldn’t stop. I said, “Andy, I can’t stop this shaking.” and started to cry. It was all getting to me – especially the cold. Andy held me – lit me a cigarette and we talked. After a while I calmed down. Anderson was a great guy. As were all of our guys,. We loved and depended on each other you couldn’t make it alone,

One night, at this same place, Andy and I were leaning against my halftrack. We could hear a mortar shell coming (they came slow). We didn’t have time to get in our hole, so we dove under the track. The shell landed four or five feet away in the snow and mud. It didn’t explode; it was a “dud”. The book wasn’t open on our page that night. We survived. One afternoon, later on, we had taken this small town and we were getting some machine gun fire from some woods. Our company went to clear the woods and had to stay there all night. They called on the radio to bring up some rations and ammunition. They said the field might be mined. Andy and I gathered up supplies and put half in his track and half in mine. We thought that one of us should get through. We ran side by side and both got through. We tried to follow our same tracks back and about halfway back, Andy hit a land mine with the left track and caught fire. I stopped, he jumped out and ran to me and we made it back.

Somewhere along about this time they had brought up a portable shower unit. They had big tents and many tank trucks with water and it was hot. We went back and got showers and new clothes. Boy, they felt good. We hadn’t taken a shower since we left England two months earlier. That is the only good thing about fighting a war in the wintertime. You didn’t stink much and the dead bodies didn’t stink either because they froze quickly.

We closed the “Bulge” late in January and hit the Siegfried Line in February. The snow was melting and there was lots of mud. I developed a fear and hatred for the snow and cold that winter and it will stay with me forever. After the Siegfried Line, we started the “spearheads” to the Rhine river. Our objective was the city of Andemach, a city north ofCoblenz. We cleared the city with help from another unit.

They then pulled us back a few miles to a small town. We were there five days, while the engineers built a “bailey bridge” across the Rhine. Owens found a German motorcycle there. Each morning, he and I would ride it to Andemach and get wine that we had found in a cellar. We gave wine to anyone who wanted some and it tasted good. The house that our squad took over, to sleep in, had a radio and we heard some music for the first time in nearly three months. (American music from Paris)

They built the bridge across the Rhine under a smoke screen and we crossed it in a smoke screen. An experience that I’ll never forget. We started the “spearheads” again and one time we were cut off for three days. They dropped us supplies from the air. Gasoline was the big item and we go that in thousands an thousands of five-gallon cans. I saw General Patton twice. Once in the “Bulge” and once on a “spearhead”.

We had the Germans on the run now. They were running out of gasoline and food, so they were using a lot of horses to move their guns and supplies in wagons. They were being strafed by aircraft and shelled from our artillery and the roads jammed with dead horses, humans and everything. At times, we could not go around them and had to run over the bodies. On these “spearheads,” we came to and released prisoners from POW (prisoner of war) camps and slave labor camps. These were sorry sights. They were so happy to see us. We knew that the end of the war was getting near, and all of us were praying that we could make it now that we had come this far.

We were in the mountains before we dropped down into Linz, Austria, on the Danube River. A small town, Wegshied, we came to in the afternoon. Lots of SS there and putting up a stiff resistance. We got some houses burning so we could see better, when it got dark, we used our cigarette lighters on curtains and etc. S/Sgt. Elwood G. Cashman, my squad leader, got it here. We felt so bad with the end so near. We finished clearing the town. The next day they sent my platoon (five half-tracks), out on a mounted patrol, down a dirt road for a few miles. We hit no resistance and found nothing. While we were gone, they shelled the town with artillery. Another guy had pulled his half-track under a tree where I had been. He got a direct hit and the halftrack was half-gone. He was lying on the ground dead. I thought to my self “God still has plans for me. That could have been me.”

The war ended for us at Linz, Austria, on the Danube river. It was a beautiful city. In spite of the pain and suffering of a war there is a good side. I had many fine friends while in the military and we had many laughs and good times. This friendship has lasted over the years. We can feel it at our reunions.I must say, that we had fine officers as our leaders. Three of them were killed. Most were wounded. Captain George Reimer, our Company Commander, was and is a good man. I think he was wounded four times.

There was a concentration camp near Linz, called Mauthausen. That was a terrible sight and smelled too. Dead bodies all over and the rest were half-dead. They must have killed and burned thousands of people there. We sat in a field for several days after the armistice was signed on May 8,1945. We started “occupation duty” in a small town, Reid, Austria.

I got a three-day pass to Paris late in may or early June. We went to Munich, Germany by truck and got on the train there. The train was full of GI’s going to Paris or Luxemburg. When we got to Paris, they had a place where they gave each one, with a pass, one carton of cigarettes, soap, razor, toothbrush, toothpaste and a comb. Most of us had our own, so we sold those things to French civilians for a good price. We also had German pistols to sell. I had five. The Frenchmen took us to a cafe where we went back in a comer and piled our pistols on a table and ordered a drink. They were looking over the pistols and the fellow across the table from me (one of us) shot himself in the left hand: They called the military police (MP’s) to take him to the hospital. We gathered up our pistols and got the hell out of there fast. It was illegal to sell these pistols. We went to a Red Cross hotel, got our room, and we never heard anything about it. I had a little 25-caliber automatic, in a shoulder holster, which I wore under my shirt. We weren’t supposed to have concealed weapons, but we weren’t too well liked in Germany. So many of us carried something.

The three of us went to a club, that night. Each of us bought a bottle of cognac and a bottle of champagne at $4.00 a bottle. One of the sergeants got pretty drunk and went with a woman for the night. Baldwin and I went back to our hotel room. We saw the sergeant at noon the next day. He was sick and broke. She had “rolled” him for all his money. We each gave him some money. We saw many of the sights in Paris and had a good time there. One afternoon, I was walking by myself, there was a park and it had benches along the side walk. Two women, professionals, were sitting on a bench. We talked a little and “pidgin English” and I went with the older one to her apartment. We went through a door, into a hallway, and got halfway up the stairs when the front door opened and a man came in. I thought that it might be a “set-up”. I unbuttoned my shirt and took out my little pistol. When she saw it, she got excited and finally got through to me that he lived downstairs. I wouldn’t have shot anyone, but I would have scared someone. Everything turned out okay. She was good and knew her business.

When I got back to my company, in Austria, they were loading up the tanks and half-tracks onto freight cars and shipping them back to France. The 21/2 ton trucks they drove back in convoys. I got in on this and there were two drivers to a truck with an officer in charge of each twenty-five trucks. The convoy stretched out for miles. Weaver and I were together and we were three days getting to a racetrack outside of Paris. We got into Paris again that night and caught the train back in the morning. When we rode trains over there, we rode in 40 & 8 (40 men or 8 mules) boxcars. There were no passenger cars this time. We each carried our own bedrolls and rations.

We were then sent to occupy Friestadt, Austria. There was a “displaced persons” (DP’s) camp there. (people from other countries that worked for the Germans.) They were being sent back to their own countries. Wally Laudert and I got in on one trip that was hauling DP’s to Yugoslavia. There were many trucks and each had two drivers. We went over the Alps into Northern Italy and then into Yugoslavia. Several times a day, we stopped the trucks for “piss call”. This was quite a sight. We unloaded the DP’s in a field, near a town, there Marshal Tito’s troops set up machine guns around the DP’s. We stayed there in our trucks that night and were sure glad to leave the next morning. We made this trip early in July and on July 4th we received snow. The first and only time, that I have gotten into a snowstorm in July.

We now were sent to occupy Ebbenzee, Austria. There was a big POW camp there and we had ninety thousand German prisoners to guard. They had “work details” outside of the Camp each day and my job, on most days, was to go to the main gate and draw and sign for six prisoners. They would go to the “wood yard” and cut firewood all day. They cooked on wood stoves in the camp. I carried a sub­machine gun and they didn’t offer to run away. They were eating pretty well there. In august 1945, they broke up the 11th Armored Division and we were sent in all different directions to other units. We had been together for three years. Some others and I were sent to Czechoslovakia to a town near Pilsen to the 8th Armored Division where I was there a couple of weeks and then went to

Germany to the 83rd Infantry Division. I was put in a service company of the 329th Infantry Battalion. I was driving a truck again. John Singletary, who was “ration breakdown man”, and I would drive to Deggendorfto the railroad each morning. We picked up the rations (food) for the 4th Infantry Company and deliver them to four different towns, that they were occupying. This was good duty. John and I had our room up over the kitchen. The cooks slept there too. So we always had food like oranges, apples, bread and peanut butter in our rooms. Some women would come each night and if they stayed too late, they would stay all night. Civilians had to be off the streets from 11:00 pm till 6:00 in the morning. This is where a woman slept in my bed, one night, when she stayed too late. I never touched her. She looked to rough for me. When I woke up, in the morning, she was gone. I have told this a few times and people don’t believe it. But it is the truth.

We were being sent home on the point system. So many points for service in the States, months overseas, for each Battle Star (I have three), and etc. Anyway, I had sixty points. The 358th Engineer Battalion was being filled with sixty pointers for going home. So they sent others and me to the 358th in some town in Germany. We did nothing there.

One afternoon, an old man was leading an old skinny horse up the street, followed by some old women, with pails and pans. They went to the town square and killed the horse. They cut it up and divided the meat. I didn’t go up to see this – it wouldn’t be a pretty sight. I am fortunate and thankful that I have never been that hungry. In this land of plenty, most people will say that they wouldn’t do this, or they wouldn’t do that. But that is “bullshit.” This county would be the worst, because we are used to having too much. They would get on their knees or kill for a piece of bread. On the day after Thanksgiving, we started our journey home. We were taken to the “tent city” camps, near Rheims, France. These camps were named after cities in the U.S.A. There were units coming in and going out every day. I went into Rheims a few times. Rheims was pretty well cleaned up by this time. The Rheims cathedral is a beautiful church and wasn’t damaged much. We went in and sat down for a few minutes. We were here a couple of weeks and then were moved to a “tent city” camp near Le Havre, France. This was on the coast. We could look down and see the city and the ocean. These “tent cities” were called “cigarette camps” named after cigarette brands. I’m not sure, but ours was “Lucky Strike” or “Pall Mall”. I still had a couple of extra pistols and sold them here. We were allowed to take one home and they were going to pull a “shake down search” on the ship.

All around these camps were signs that said, “one drip and you miss the ship. So if you got the “clap”, you stayed there for treatment. We had a “short arm” inspection the day before we boarded ship. One day they told us that our ship was in and we would be loading up in a few days. On the afternoon of Christinas Eve, 1945 we went down and boarded ship. No trouble walking up the “gang plank”, this time. The duffel bag was lighter and we were going home. We left that evening and went up into the North Sea and around the north of Scotland. They announced over the speakers that there would be a turkey dinner the next day for Christmas. We hit a winter storm that night and all Christmas Day. So many got seasick and couldn’t eat their dinner. I ate some but not much.

This ship was the SS Argentina. It was a nice ship and not too crowded. There were seven thousand of us on it. Our trip lasted seven days before we reach New York on the morning of Jan 1, 1946. Most of us were on the decks so we could see the Statue of Liberty and watch the tugboats pushing us into the pier. It was quiet and no one around because it was a holiday. Later in the day, we were taken off and put on a train to Camp Kilmer, New Jersey again. From there the train sent us to our “separation centers” in our different states. I went to New Cumberland, Pennsylvania again. There, we were “processed out.” They told me my gums and teeth were bad and if I stayed a few days they would fix my teeth. I said, “give me that honorable discharge and I will get my teeth fixed at home, myself.”

On January 5,1946,1 received my discharge, $300 mustering our pay and train ticket to Kane, Pennsylvania. This ended my short military career, three years, two months, and one day. I wouldn’t take a million dollars for the things that I learned. Things that I saw and did. I learned more about discipline, which we have to have in, our homes our work and ourselves. I rode the train all night to Kane. I got home Sunday morning, January 6.1 surprised Mom and Dad. We were happy and had a good cry.