James G. Graff
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The following
was copied from a print out provided by Mr. Graff. Unfortunately, he did
not have a computer file to provide us. The text was typed into an
electronic format word by word, by Pfc. Rick McClellan (reenactor). Please
let us know by e-mailing the webmaster if you spot any
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A Soldier’s Story of C Company, 134th Infantry,
35th Division
By James G. Graff
Introduction
I am a native of Middletown, Illinois and was born August 20, 1925,
raised in a small town and moved to the farm in 1941 and have been a
farmer ever since.
I was inducted into the Army at Fort Sheridan, Illinois on May 27, 1944
and moved to Camp Hood, Texas and went through 23 weeks of basic training
in the IRTC there. Departed for the ETO on December 22, 1944 and after my
overseas service in C Company, 134th Inf., 35th
Div., I returned to the states on September 10, 1945. Afterwards I was
transferred to Co. K, 2nd Inf, 5th Div., at Camp
Campbell, Kentucky. I was separated from the service on April 24, 1946 at
Fort Sheridan.
This account was written by me 31 years after the events had taken
place. I have tried to avoid using too many dates as my memory, although
good, is not that good and in combat we did not keep a calendar as we took
each day as it came.
I was encouraged by many of my comrades and also my family (wife, 3
daughters and 1 son) to write of my experiences. I have used names and
hope no hard feelings will be felt, but this account is of my true
feelings and memories of events I saw there. I have a warm compassion in my heart for my many comrades in arms and
hope that they hold good memories of me. We were for the most part, good
soldiers who fought a good fight in a just cause.
My wife and I have got to know many of my comrades and their families
through the years and we find them to be very good and true friends in
peace as my comrades were in war. My thoughts in this book were influenced by my very good friends Bob
Landrum of Missouri, Kenneth McCrae and Herman Genrich of Nebraska, Joe
Kelso of Texas, Marvin Gardner of Iowa and Rex Storm of Illinois. Also I
must include Elwell Sanborn of New Hampshire, James Steinhaufel of
Colorado and, of course, the late Roger Pitcock of Texas. All these and
many more were my comrades in arms in the 35th Division. Dedication
I want to dedicate this book to all the men living and dead who served
in the 35th Division during World War II. As I served in the 134th Infantry Regiment, this primarily
the story of that unit although I believe the following pages could be a
part of any infantry unit. The story is just the same only the names and
places are different. As a veteran of this unit, I am proud of my service in it; I am justly
proud of its achievements and believe that its war record stands second to
none among infantry regiments of the United States Army. Lastly I must voice our battle cry, which has a familiar ring to all
ex-members of the 134th ---“Lah We Lah His” we move on
Sunday! The regiment motto was taken from the Pawnee Indians and translates
into “The Strong-The Brave.” We seemed to have our worst battles on Sunday. Events of Our Overseas Service Chapter 1 After leaving Camp Hood, Texas with a 10-day delay en route home, we
arrived at Fort Meade, Maryland. We did some training, including firing on
the rifle range, then had a train ride (through New York City at night) to
Camp Myles Standish at Boston, Massachusetts. We were trucked down to the Boston docks and loaded on the British
liner, Aquatania. This ship hauled troops to the Dardanelles Campaign in
WW I. We went on board ship as advance party. I was a salt-water corporal
and went to carry food to the serving line. Boarded ship December 20. I
never saw so much mail – they loaded for 48 hours. We had 8,000 men on board and guess who I saw? Bill Charis, a boy from
near home. I had run across him in Fort Meade and now I see him about
every day in the chow line and also saw him the evening got off the boat.
We were packed four high and not much room to move, but the monotony of it
was broken by our KP work. Sure liked to watch the water and it was pretty
at night – no lights – just the sky and stars. I was a little scary
throwing garbage off the fantail with no railing at night. Christmas Eve
on the ship saw an uproar by the men when the order came out for all
enlisted men to go to their quarters and all officers to the saloon for
Christmas caroling. Christmas dinner featured pork chops. We set sail December 22 and never saw land or another ship until we
entered the Irish Sea on the seventh day out. Saw an airplane try to land
on a small carrier, but it crashed over the side. Our destination was
Greencock, Scotland, which is the port of Glasgow. The ship docked late in
the afternoon, or rather dropped anchor in the harbor and almost
immediately we began to disembark. We had to walk over a narrow gangplank
to a small coal-fired British boat. We assembled on the dock and then were
loaded on a train, which was to take us to Southhampton. Next morning we
did see much of the English countryside and took a ride through London.
Detrained at Southhampton and boarded trucks to a tent city. A lot of
Italian prisoners were here and also colored GIs. Requisitioned a gas
lantern and some fuel from the Eye-ties. One night at Southhampton we went
out through the fence and went to the local pub. The next day we were alerted for another move, onto trucks and down to
the harbor and onto some small British ships for movement across the
Channel.We crossed during the night, New Year’s Eve, and in daylight
transferred to LSTs and were ferried to the beach and waded ashore. We
were at Le Havre and the whole harbor was full of sunken ships. Masts and
funnels marked their graves.
We marched through the town and up a hill, which was pretty steep. We
went into a tent city, which at one time must have been a German ammo
dump. Drew some PX rations and it rained. Next day we walked down and boarded trains for the move east. Three
nights and two days of French boxcars and it was cold and snow covered the
ground after the first night. Once man fell under the train and lost a
leg. Messed along the tracks –field kitchens with GI cooks and German POWs
to serve. No stools to go to the toilet. Just do it in your steel helmet
and pass it to the door and hope somebody don’t throw hat and all out.
Kelso fixed up a hammock, but the hammock and Kelso both fell down. Those
frogs used the throttle and the brake very hard. Lots of guys feet began
to freeze before we ever arrived at the front. Morning of the third day on the 40 or 8s we detrained and started
walking. We saw our first casualty, a German corpse on a stretcher and a
sign – “Danger (Mein) Mines.” We were at Metz, an old French fortress
city. We were billeted in an old French calvary barracks with a big
quadrangle parade ground out in front. It was a cold, three-story stone
building. Here we drew rifles and got two clips to zero them in. Talked to
two guys out of the 26th Div. who told of heavy fighting in the
area north of here. We had known before we left the States of a German
counter attack in Belgium. Now it looked like we would be part of it. January 8, I think, we were alerted, our names were called and we
loaded on 6x6s, open trucks, with colored drivers. It turned out to be
about 90 miles in a few degrees above zero temperatures. On this trip we
were to see Gen. George S. Patton, the Third Army Commander.
Recognized him by his pearl-handle revolvers. In Metz we were told that we
were joining the 35th Div. We arrived in Martenlange, Belgium
and were assigned to the 134th Inf. of the 35th Div.
They divided us by alphabetical order and I went to C Co. The chaplain of
the 1st Batt. Gave us some indoctrination, something of the
history of the regiment and what was expected of us. Some of us were billeted with a family by the name of Blum. This was
the kitchen area of the regiment. On January10 we loaded on ¾ ton trucks
and moved out. Detrucked in the woods, passed battalion aid station, some
90 mm anti-aircraft guns being used as artillery. We dismounted and
started moving off into the woods. As yet we had not been issued any
ammunition. As we moved up we came to an 81 mm mortar position and a red
haired sergeant was standing there. Three mortars, all facing different
directions, were in place. I asked, “Why are they faced different
direction?” The reply – “You damned fool, we’re surrounded on three
sides.” Soon we were going across an open field and behind a wrecked barn, a
member of our supply group was giving us two bandoleers of ammo and six
grenades. A little farther up we met several POWs under guard of a single
GI. The trail led through pine plantations, which about every quarter mile
had a 300-yard firebreak. In one of these fire breaks the trail wound
around what I took to be some tree branches, in reality, the black booted
legs of a dead German officer almost buried in snow. Just beyond him was
another corpse, laying on his back, his mouth filled snow, with the bluest
eyes you ever saw. To our left up the break were scores more of dead
Germans, victims of tank machine gun fire. They had been dead for several
days, but here the dead were preserved by the cold. It was dark when we finally reached C Co. positions. They divided us up
and a guy said.” I am Sgt. Storm (Rex, Illinois). You belong to the
2nd squad. Walk to your right and get in a hole with a guy down
there.” I walked down and someone said, “Over here.” I crawled into a hole and
introduced myself and my companion identified himself as PFC Bruce Boyce
of South Paris, Maine. I thought here was a chance to learn what to do and
what to expect. I said, “How long have you been in the line?” He replied, “Seven - - - - ing days,” which I was to learn was a lot
longer that some men lasted up here. You know, I didn’t know what he
looked like ‘til morning. Stood guard that night, but really didn’t know
what to look for. Next morning breakfast
of pancakes, syrup, spam and coffee --- not too bad. As we were in reserve we were able
to move around some and pretty soon I was approached by a tall older
man. He asked where I was
from and when I answered, “Illinois,” he said, “Chicago?” I said, “Hell, no.” He introduced
himself --- Bob Landrum of Hunnewell, Missouri and I found out he had
hauled corn from Mt. Pulaski and Shirley, Illinois. He asked if I was familiar with
traveling in the woods and I said yes. He answered that a platoon runner
was needed and he wanted one who wouldn’t get lost in the woods. Also I
would have to use a walkie-talkie radio. I answered that I would do
anything to help and do the best job I could. So I moved in with the
platoon headquarters group, which consisted of Landrum, who was the
platoon guide, and the platoon sergeant, T/Sgt. Kenneth McCrea, or Scotty,
as everyone called him. I spent the rest of the day getting acquainted
with my new job and my new comrades. Next morning we were
alerted to move out. While
rolling our blanket rolls (four blankets and a shelter half with one roll
to two men) a shot rang out along with the shout, “Medic!” One man had shot himself in the
wrist – accidental or not, our first American casualty was a
self-inflicted wound. We changed position
still in reserve; only an occasional explosion from artillery betrayed our
enemy. In our new position we
occupied former German holes and these had tops. In the immediate area was a
knocked out Kraut chow wagon, a dead horse, a dead driver with the lines
still in his hands and a dead German medic with glasses. Also were two
dead GIs who had been killed sometime before as their pockets and packs
had been searched, probably by the Germans. I had to take a
telephone and wire out to an outpost and upon arriving back at the Co. CP,
I experienced one of the oddest happenings of my overseas service. I and a company runner (PFC Stenis
– probably misspelled) were standing in a shallow trench about knee deep
when from the direction of the German lines came a figure. The runner called, “Halt!” This individual stopped; we gave
the sign; he didn’t answer.
It was repeated and again no answer. I asked his name and he answered
with a German accent and a German name. Stenis shouted, “A Kraut!” and
lifted his rifle to shoot. I
knocked it down and ran and jumped on this man. We dragged him down into the CP
and by candlelight he looked like a GI, but didn’t sound like one. Claimed he was out of K Co. (in
reserve behind us). His name was Henrick something or other. Finally, the
CO (1st Lt. Wallace P. Chappel of North Carolina) called the
Third Batt. by radio and confirmed that this man was missing. We kept him
until morning and sent him back.
Hope he realized how close to death he was. Next day we moved up and
dug in again. Here we found where the Krauts had built stalls for their
horses. They cut saplings for
stalls and bedded them with straw. Grave registration crews were
collecting German and American dead.
They ricked them like cordwood, all were frozen solid. One officer carried a 2x4 and
would break arms or legs so the bodies would lay better. I remember that Scotty, Landrum
and I all slept in one hole.
Next day we moved back
to a little town, slept in an open cattle shed, and as next day was
Sunday, we had church. The 1st Battalion chaplain was a good
preacher and a good guy.
Church attendance was a lot better here than in the States.
Somebody said that “there were no atheists in a
foxhole.” Chapter 2 The next day we moved
back to Marvie, the town where C Co. had jumped off on January 4 when they
were really ass-holed in the woods. Paratroopers of the
101st had held this town during the siege of Bastogne. There
were wrecked gliders and C-47s in the fields that were used supply the
101st when they were surrounded. A P-47 was making strafing and
bombing runs northeast of here. There was a knocked-out Kraut tank up by
the church, a GI jeep and a 6x6 truck knocked out by a bomb; and the barn
they were next to contained several cows and chickens in their nests,
killed by concussion and frozen solid. We found a half of beef
hanging in a tree. We ate it and then killed another and left it for the
next outfit. Most of the
civilians were gone and what livestock was left was wandering looking for
food and water.
Today I believe
Steinhaufel rejoined the 3rd platoon. He had been wounded at
Habkirchen. Also a deserter
by the name of Smith from Sandoval, Illinois rejoined us. He had run off
several times before and Storm told him not to try it again or it would be
too bad. When we fell out the next morning he was gone. They caught him a
few days later and he was court-martialed. These kind of cases were not
unusual we were to find out.
Many men would do anything to get out of the front line. I have
already told of a self-inflicted wound (I was to witness two more such
cases, one by a man, Grestbauer, that went overseas with us). Desertion was also very common
although some men came back in a day or two of their own free
will. Next morning we moved
out and were to join elements of the 6th Armored Div. in
pushing east. As we moved into Arloncourt we saw fifteen knocked-out tanks
and a field of dead GIs. One
man had a 300 radio on his back with four or five bullet holes in it.
These tanks had been knocked out earlier in the campaign, but three
6th Armored tanks were burning when we came up and a half-track
with wounded and burned tankers were being pulled out. It looked to me as if the Krauts
had shot a lot of livestock on pulling out. We ate dinner where three dead
cows lay in the street and the blood wasn’t frozen yet. It kinda pissed my off, just to
kill them for the hell of it. A dead Kraut was under the steps and
Schaeffer (Nathaniel, Philadelphia) got sick and couldn’t
eat. Moved out into the woods
and found a wounded GI on a stretcher and another limping back hollering,
“I got a million dollar wound and I am going to the rear.” They had been hit by their own
artillery. Again and again we would encounter our own artillery or tank
fire and on a couple of occasions would be bombed by our own
planes. We dug in for the night
next to some armored infantry.
We got some hot chow up, but they only had K rations. That is one trouble with the
armored. They never have a
kitchen up and maybe it was just the fault of their officers. One thing about the
134th Inf. was that we got hot chow whenever possible and also
bed rolls. We were not
burdened down with mess gear and blankets like some outfits. I have helped
hand carry chow and bed rolls for a much as a mile but it sure beats cold
Ks and no blankets because you had thrown them away. That evening a Kraut
tank refueled just a few hundred yards from us right out in the open. We
had two Sherman tanks, but they wanted us to try some 60 mm mortar fire on
them. Lt. Chappel said
nothing doing. If they
wouldn’t fight them with tanks, he’d play hell exposing his men to tank
fire just to satisfy our tankers.
Although a lot of the guys won’t agree with me, this was the first
of many times I saw Chappel stand up for his men, refusing to attack or
commit them unless they were properly supported. A far cry from some previous
company commanders the C Company has had. Next morning we moved
out to cut a highway east of us.
As we moved into the woods near a big house, a German tank (maybe
the one we had seen the evening before) opened up on us. There was one of our supporting
tanks near us and I guess that the Kraut was really aiming for him, as he
was using AP (armor piercing ammunition) rather than HE (high
explosive). About three or
four rounds were wild and high, the only casualty being a couple of
trees. The tank crew jumped
in their vehicle as they had been standing outside although the engine was
running. The backed around
and opened up with their coaxial machine gun and then “Bang,” their 75 mm
fired and they hit the Kraut first shot. He caught fire after the third
round and we didn’t see anybody get out. Sgt. Landrum had a
prayer he read to the third platoon before jumping off and one after the
day had ended. This prayer service was known to a lot of the attached
units (such as the heavy machine gunners of D Company). We all knelt in
the snow, uncovered with bowed heads while Bob read the prayer, PFC Boyce
was a scout one day and missed the service. He was wounded in the head later
on that same day and afterwards I heard him say the reason he got hit was
because he missed the service. Soon we had come under
German tank fire and were digging in. Our medic (Youngs) who had joined
us a day before didn’t have a shovel and about then a shell landed in a
tree among us. Kittleson
(Lisbon, Illinois) was killed and Boyce, Iacovone, Blankenship, Hammonds,
Locke, Hoff and one more were wounded. These men, with the exception of
Boyce, were all men who had come overseas with me. These were our first
casualties. Storm’s overcoat
hanging in a tree was riddled.
We were under German tank fire and tank fire, if you have never
faced it, is like nothing you have ever saw or heard. It was zip-bang,
high velocity and no time to duck because you didn’t hear them until the
shells were over you. Again we were digging in
and when we heard tanks moving.
A small road was near us and a tank was coming down it, the turret
turned towards us, and I thought – this is it. I noticed it was an American and
it kept going, but to this day I think it was one of ours that the Krauts
had captured. Evidently they
didn’t see us. By evening we
were on the highway. Saw a
couple of Krauts down the highway but they were out of range. This, the
17th of January, was our first day of actual combat --- the day
of the first battle casualties. I happened to notice that the aerial on
the radio was clipped short, cut by a piece of shrapnel. I didn’t like that and made up my
mind to rid of this job as soon as possible. The medic and I dug in together,
helped carry bedrolls and night chow (coffee and roast beef sandwiches)
for almost a mile. While
Storm and I were standing drinking coffee, someone walked past and Storm
remarked, “Looked like he had on Kraut mess gear.” In a couple of minutes someone
hollered, “We got a prisoner.” He had walked through two platoons of
infantry and a section of heavy machine guns but didn’t say anything until
challenged. He could have killed a half dozen, including me, but his
intention was to surrender; such was the German mind. We picked up a
prisoner earlier who had hid out and followed a telephone line in and he
said, “Three years in the army and hadn’t made corporal yet, so thought I
would surrender.” We were next moved back
to Michamps, a little town, and I believe we walked all the way. This town
was practically destroyed. The third platoon took over a house with a
second story and roof shot off.
It had a 105 mm dud in the kitchen and we stayed here for several
days and it was still there when we left. Only two rooms were
habitable. As I was hunting
for some hay or straw to sleep on, I came across a house-barn combination,
which the Krauts had used for an aid station. The Red Cross flag was still
flying. As I opened a
small shed I noticed a blanket covering something. I pulled it back and
there lay a dead German who was dressed in GI pants and blue knit socks.
His hair was long and black and he had died of a massive head wound. His German dogtag was still around
his neck. Possibly he was a
member of one of the units dressed and equipped with American equipment
that had spearheaded some of the German attacks in the
Ardennes. Another bizarre incident
occurred while we were in Michamps.
One day a jeep pulled up in front of the company CP. Three men in it threw out a dead
GI and threw an overcoat over him. We didn’t know who they were and the
dead soldier was still there when we pulled out. As the rest of the
35th Div. had been moved back to Alsace-Lorraine, we of the
134th had been attached to the 6th Armored and were
to replace their armored infantry who had been pretty well used up. We even had
half-tracks. While here we had a
stove with a fire pot no bigger than your hat, so someone had to stay up
all night to fire it. Schaeffer got sick, and being too lazy to go
outside, shit in the corner of the room we were sleeping in. It also
housed Kelso’s (Texas) equipment. While at Michamps,
Kusch, one of the fellows that came in with us, was evacuated with frost
bite and medics told him he would loose some toes. Kitchens (Kentucky) and a Mexican
boy left soon after we joined C Co. with frostbite and Lawrence left later
in the month. Also there were several others that I can’t remember -----
many had their feet frozen on our boxcar and truck rides up to the
front.
Chapter 3 We moved out in Sixth
Armored half-tracks and then dismounted and walked while they went back
and let some other companies ride.
The tankers were setting all haystacks on fire with tracers because
German tanks had a nasty habit of hiding in them. On this march Sanborn (Sgt., New
Hampshire) was taken with one of his coughing spells. He got down on all
fours and spit blood. I believe he is in a bad way. We got into some
houses. We were now in the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg. Storm threw one old
lady out her bed and slept in it. We got a bunch of replacements and I got
rid of the radio. Tom Sawyer
(Minnesota) had taken it after he had come in with us. I now was a member of the third
squad of the third platoon. I was to remain here for the rest of my time
in C Co. except for a couple of short hitches. I now took over the BAR (Browning
Automatic Rifle). Its former owner, Burr (Charles, Pennsylvania) had been
evacuated with frozen feet.
The BAR weighed 18 lbs. without the bipod, 20 with. We carried it
without. I also had 13
magazines (20 rounds per), each weighing one lb., so I was burdened down
with 31 lbs. of equipment; to which you add one bandolier of extra ammo,
48 rounds and six hand grenades, entrenching tool, trench knife, canteen,
first aid packet. You didn’t
have much room for personal things. I threw away my gas mask (fitted with
eyeglasses) and carried two K rations, razor, toothpaste, shaving brush,
shaving crème, writing paper and a pair of wire cutters in the gas mask
carrier. These were combined
with our clothes: pair of
short underwear, pair of long johns, pair of fatigues, pair of wool O.D.s,
sweater, field jacket and overcoat plus wool knit cap and helmet liner,
combat boots and felt-top overshoes.
No wonder small arms cut down a lot of men. With all the snow,
clothes and equipment you didn’t move too fast. Armored divisions had blanket
lined overalls, which would have been a lot better. You can imagine the
amount of exposure we were subject to. Wet snow, wading streams, sleeping
in foxholes, not being able to take off your shoes for long periods and no
chance to wash your feet or change your socks. No water to drink --- only
coffee. We stood guard when dug in – one hour on and one off – fatigue
doesn’t help. Through it all
hardly anyone had a cold, but I carried a jar of
Vick’s. S/Sgt. Sanborn was the
squad leader and Sgt. Loos (Ohio) was the assistant. As the new replacements were
standing out in the street, Lt. Chappel, the company commander was talking
to them. He was a fairly well
built man with a small mustache. He told the new men which company they
were in and they should call him “Chappy” because he was a rebel himself.
The Lt. had made Sgts. Storm and Thibeault shave off their goat-whiskers
(goatees) but let them wear a mustache. Our squad got some
replacements out of this group.
One (Sokolowski, Stephen, New York) I was to have as an assistant
BAR man. I asked him if he knew anything about the weapon and he answered,
“I don’t even know how to load my rifle.” He was a product of the Army’s
replacement system as a so-called “retrained rifleman.” He had been a truck mechanic in an
anti-aircraft outfit in the States. The Army had many men reclassified and
sent them overseas as replacements.
The Army brass felt that just because they were in the Army, the
infantry could use them. In
reality, the infantryman was a highly specialized and trained individual.
We had many weapons to master, plus the training to make you a combat
soldier. Men like Sokolowski
were next to worthless as an infantryman and many of these re-trainees
were to become casualties in the next couple of days as a result of it.
Another group of men
joined us this day. They were casuals (wounded who had been returned to
their own units – a good practice). One was S/Sgt. Maurice File (St.
Louis, Missouri). This man had been wounded five times and was to be hit
again tomorrow morning. That evening Sgt. Baker
(John C., Richmond, Missouri) and I had some water heating on a stove when
we observed one of the replacements using it. Bake hollered “What the hell do
you think you are doing?” and this man turned around addressed us, “I am
Lt. Larrieu (Richard G.) and I am going to shave.” Baker said, “I don’t
give a damn if you are a lieutenant, you ain’t going to use our water. Put
it back.” To me this was
quite a switch from stateside. I was to learn that officers didn’t rate
the same treatment overseas as stateside. Next morning we moved
out on half-tracks and soon it came evident we were about to enter combat
again. We met a jeep with a German prisoner perched on the hood and a
wounded tanker with a bandage around his eyes seated in the passenger
side. We dismounted in a small
cluster of houses. Several
German prisoners were standing there and they had a German corpse on a
child’s wooden sled. He was one of the tallest corpses I had ever
seen. We moved out up the road
with the tanks and seen we deployed to the left of the road towards a
woods. We had been informed that A Co. was to flush the woods and we were
to flank it. As we walked
across the knee-deep snow swept fields we were greeted by heavy small arms
fire. As I went to the ground
I heard the medic (Youngs) holler, “Help me Graff, he’s hit.” I turned and
ran back – my new assistant was laying face down in the snow. I rolled him over and we thought
he was dead, but, all of a sudden, his eyes blinked for he had only
fainted. I then ran up a little
knoll and lay down by Sgt. Baker.
He was holding up a leg and trying to get a bullet through it (a
million dollar wound). I opened fire on the woods, but the BAR would only
fire one round at a time for the ejector wouldn’t work. I fired the whole
magazine (20 rounds) and dug every single cartridge out with my
pocketknife. I would not be
much help to our men pinned down by the fire from the woods. Finally, the fire slackened and we
moved into a finger of the woods.
It then became apparent we had suffered considerable loss. Jones
(John Paul, Ohio), who was Lt. Chappel’s radio man, was killed. He had gone overseas with us. Sgt. Patrick (Charles H. South
Carolina) had also been killed along with some of the new men. Some had
been wounded including Sgt. File (the most wounded man in the
35th Div.) I took the BAR and
busted it on a tree and Landrum got me a rifle off one of the casualties.
A sergeant in another platoon was down in a shell-hole crying and his
platoon sergeant had to kick him out to get him moving. He deserted a few
weeks later and we never did find our what happened to him. They began to reorganize and I was
sent to the weapons platoon as an ammo carrier for a machine gun. As we were digging in
that afternoon, an incident occurred that was one of the tragedies of war.
On January 4, C Co. had been almost wiped out with many men having been
killed or captured. We had
just learned the day before that six of them that were captured had been
found shot to death by a small arms bullet in the head or heart. The order
had come down that if we caught anyone out of the 1st SS
(Adolph Hitler Panzer Div.) to not take any
prisoners. As we were watching a
ridge three Germans appeared.
One had on his helmet and another had his arm in a sling. These men had been shooting at us
just a couple of hours ago. Some hollered, “Kill the bastards!” Everyone
opened fire and two fell but one jumped into a foxhole or hellhole. Gerstbauer, one of the fellows who
went over with me, jumped up and ran up the hill and emptied his rifle in
the Kraut and all the time the German was screaming, “Kamrad!” (German for
comrade, which they always hollered when surrendering) until he was
killed. Bad business, but in
such conditions men’s feelings and senses are sometimes
dulled.
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