H. K. Brown's WW II 1944--1945 Diary

Part 10 of 11
      Finally the fog lifted for good and the sun came shining through. We could see 
landmarks around us. We were descending into a valley where once had been an 
orchard. German artillery kept passing overhead. We passed a French 75 mm gun, 
apparently captured by the Germans, which had been knocked out just a few minutes 
before. The word was passed around that we were to go from reserve into the attack 
as the rifle company and the 1st Platoon could not go on. We hitched on behind C Company 
and we were off. We crossed a small creek and found ourselves about 100 yards from a 
small town. Then came a steep bank into a still steeper vineyard. While the riflemen on our 
left were clearing the vineyard, we rested. We had bypassed three towns by this time and 
could hear our rear units cleaning them up. Our mortar forward observer, Lt. Moser, was 
next to us trying to get a line on any enemy positions. We made our slow progress through 
the vineyard out onto some plowed ground, and following a deep furrow, made our way 
toward the few trees which marked the crest of the hill. About half way across, someone 
with a rifle opened up on us from the top floor of a house in the town to our right He was 
firing from behind us and to our right and the spurts of light from his gun could be seen 
very clearly. Also the bullets tore up the plowed ground as they hit. It only served to 
speed us up a bit. As we had no cover, we walked in the furrow crouched as low as 
possible.
     When we got to the crest of the gentle slope we found a maze of trenches abandoned 
by  the Germans. By this time, most of the morning had gone and it was very clear. We 
had practically run through enemy territory and were way in front of many of our other units. 
We dug in on the forward slope of the ridge and could see stretched before us a little 
town, down a steep embankment. Further on was a stream and a broad open plain. I 
dug into a large shell hole and set up the machine gun. Kountz was section leader by this 
time. The riflemen tried to press down the hill to capture the town. I was guarding the 
right flank. A runner was sent back to see if we couldn't get some sort of light artillery 
to help us knock out two armored vehicles that were defending the town. The runner 
hadn't been gone long before he was back to tell us that we were surrounded. He 
had run into a group of Germans who had fired on him as he was returning over our 
trail. Some of our guns were turned around and fired behind us. The armored vehicles 
were kept busy running from one end of town to the other. There weren't more than 
15 houses in the entire village. They made it too hot for our riflemen who were getting 
picked off just as soon as they would start down the hill. Lt. Poole was hit and called 
for a medic. The rifle company had no medic so Johnny was sent. We never saw him 
again, alive. He was picked off just after reaching Lt. Poole. He wore nothing on his 
arm or helmet to denote medic. Kountz spotted what appeared to be four Germans 
carrying a long wooden box in the distance (about 500 yards). He opened fire with the
machine gun but all they did was drop the box and run.
     The riflemen were retreating and as they would emerge for an instant into the open, 
the armored vehicles would open up and cut them down. One fellow who only got it in 
the leg passed my foxhole hobbling along. I asked him for his shovel and he must have 
been a new man because he wouldn't give it up until I promised to return it to 
C Company supply when I was through.  I had broken the handle of mine and as he 
was going back, he had no further use for his. I dug my hole under the edge of the 
shell hole but someone, and I suspect D Company, threw in about six rounds of 
mortar in our vicinity and the concussion caved the hole in on me. I was buried from 
the chest down.  If they were German, those mortar rounds could have picked us off 
like ducks if they'd had a good observer. Our mission was to secure the high ground 
on the other side of the town and so protect the crossroads of the main highway where 
Task Force "Cactus" was to jump off. Just before dark, we established communications 
with the rear units and about that time the Germans began a counterattack. They 
appeared to be all around us. We pulled out after dark, with tracers flying everywhere. 
Ours was the last gun to be pulled, and as we took off I passed 5 or 6 fellows lying 
on the ground next to a small stack of logs. As I stepped over them I said, "Come on, 
we're moving out." and "Let's go." About that time someone informed me that both the 
men on the ground and the stack of logs were dead GIs.
     We staged a somewhat disorderly retreat. The German small arms fire sounded 
pretty close so we half ran, half walked back over the plowed ground, down the vineyard 
until we came to the knocked-out 75s. There we dispersed and were told to dig in. Perez 
and I set up our gun in the middle of the swale. The digging was very easy--too easy--as 
we soon discovered. We drew water at about 18 inches. The night was bitter cold and 
we would lay in our hole pretending to sleep for about an hour and then we had to get up 
and walk around or dig our hole deeper and shovel dirt to keep warm. The night was very 
quiet and the town to our right seemed to have been taken by our units.
     Mar.16, 1945: The dawn was clear and bright. Everyone built fires and ate rations. 
Soon I got restless and wandered around exploring the elaborate dugouts which had 
housed the German artillery unit operating the 75s. In one of the holes was a dead 
German; in others, just equipment. One of our officers with some help packed dirt 
into the barrel of the nearest 75 and pulled the string. It split the barrel about two 
feet from the end and curled the muzzle open. The gun had been captured with a 
round in the breech. Near the other 75 was a beautiful dugout. It still had a wounded 
German in it. He was sent back and we explored the hole. I found six German cigars, 
the perfumed kind, and I had a very enjoyable morning. In the dugout, the size of an 
ordinary room, was a board floor, rugs, easy chairs, desks, and everything imaginable 
for the comfort of all concerned--all liberated by the Germans from the closest town.
     We still had our mission staring at us, so about 1:00 that afternoon we took off. Our 
squad followed B Company around to the left, the same route our 1st Platoon had taken 
the morning before. We climbed the vineyard and skirted the woods until we emerged 
within sight of the town. By that time C Company with the other squad had taken our 
positions that the Germans had vacated the night before. Apparently the Air Corps had 
been called to bomb and strafe the town before we moved forward--so we waited. 
Soon four P47s appeared, peeled off and began dropping 500 pounders within the town. 
They put on quite a show--from our high vantage point we could see everything. They 
would dive directly over our heads or come in from our left and plant their bombs, one 
at a time, in the streets, trying to hit one of the German armored vehicles. After each 
had unloaded its two bombs, they began to strafe. Several of the passes were made 
directly over our heads and the spent .50 cal. machine gun shells would fall like hail  
among the trees. About 30 minutes of this before the planes left.
     Everyone lined up and drew a bead on the town. We all opened fire for about 5 
minutes. There was no answering fire. Slowly the riflemen entered and reported that the 
town was empty. Everyone relaxed, moved into the town and looked around for 
something to eat. The Air Corps had practically leveled the town. One bomb hit had 
completely covered one of the armored vehicles by caving a side of a house in on it. 
We didn't stay long as the road had been opened and supplies were moving up. Units 
on our left could be seen moving toward a larger town to our left front. The Air Corps 
was trying to give them support also but the yellow smoke signals were drifting back 
and some of our troops were getting strafed instead. We moved out of town to our right 
and set up the machine gun in one of two large excavations for cellars just outside of town. 
E. A. Brown's gun was set up in the nearest hole and ours was set up in the other. We 
weren't there more than five minutes when we could hear a distant, but very loud and 
distinct, muzzle blast up the valley in front of us. It was followed immediately by the 
whine of heavy artillery--incoming mail. The one round came at us with a terrible ferocity
--with a tremendous explosion and earthquake-like vibration, the nearest house to us, 
about 50 yards, literally vanished in a cloud of smoke and dust. It was a direct hit by 
a German self-propelled (SP) gun, a huge artillery piece mounted on tank treads. Only 
one more round came in, but by that time we were up and moving forward across the 
open field. Our riflemen had advanced across the road, fence, and small stream, on to a 
gentle treeless rise where there were several foxholes of die-hard Germans. They were 
being smoked out hole by hole. Somewhere back of us, an antitank gun was throwing
phosphorus shells, but all were falling short. Several of our riflemen were hit before it 
ceased firing. We followed our lead men and crossed the fence and made for the creek. 
We were immediately cut off by a hail of burp gun fire (German Schmeisser machine 
pistol). It had a reputation--supposedly it could fire so fast that 6 rounds were in process 
of coming out of the barrel at the same time. Those that were in the creek hit the water 
and kept on going across. I and the group behind me detoured slightly, crossing the 
creek where it was wider and deeper, but at least we walked across. The Germans 
were being smoked out slowly but surely. I saw about three enemy with their hands 
up running toward us when burp gun fire from behind them cut them down--it seemed 
that they were running out on their buddies. It was almost dusk as we cleared the last 
few holes. I almost got a chance to fire, but just as I had my gun set up and zeroed in 
on a hole,  which I was going to keep peppering with short bursts while a rifleman sneaked 
around behind and dropped a grenade into, four Germans climbed out with their hands up. 
Dark found us midway up the rise, awaiting orders to dig in. We walked to the crest and 
dug in on the forward slope before settling down for the night. I again dug in with Perez, 
and this time, although the wind was blowing, we were on a hill and dug in deep enough 
to keep warm.
     Mar. 17, 1945: We awoke just after daylight, knowing that we may be surrounded. 
As nothing out-of-the-way happened, several of us made our way down the slope to 
the fair-sized town at the bottom. It was the same town that we had seen in the distance 
the day before. We stopped at a house on the outskirts and asked for water and apples. 
GIs from another Bn. were already well established in the town. We explored some of 
the elaborate dugout observation posts for artillery forward observers. It was shortly 
after noon when we tailed on behind another part of our Reg. and took off across 
country toward the main highway. We had the satisfaction of seeing one of the SP 
guns completely knocked out, nothing left but a burned out hulk. It was an enormous
tractor-propelled cannon and we could see its tracks leading among the few houses 
standing and among the orchards and fields. It seems there were two SP guns and one 
of them had gotten away. The Air Corps had spotted this one, trailed it, and finally with 
a direct hit had set it on fire. We followed the main highway north, the same direction that 
Task Force Cactus had taken. Toward dusk we came to a GI-filled town and were forced 
to take billets in a barn.
     Mar. 18, 1945: Early that morning, while we were waiting for food, I went out in back 
of the barn and listened to a radio for the news on an antiaircraft (AA) unit, a towed vehicle 
with two .50 cal. guns mounted on a full swivel. This was one day we put in our share of 
walking. We went through Worth and eventually stopped at a schoolhouse. There some 
of our mail caught up with us. I remember Grusecki receiving two dozen bars of Hershey's
tropical chocolate bars. There were no billets available in the town so I was sent with 
several others by jeep to another town a few Kms away to arrange for a house for each 
of our squads. I finally got a house for our squad and also took over saving another house 
for Wagner. The Alsatian there kept asking me questions and feeding me red wine. I 
must have taken 6 glasses before I began to feel dizzy and a little loose at the tongue.
Slyford, always on the lookout for something to drink, wanted me to take him and 
Packanowski in and introduce them to the free wine. Due to the usual mix-up in orders, 
we had to move to the other side of the town and had just settled down for the evening 
when the order came that we were to move up to the border. I was lucky enough to 
hop a ride in a jeep with Perez, Zurowski, and a couple of others. Maybe we were lucky 
or maybe we weren't. We rode for almost 8 hours. I blame it on our transportation officer. 
We kept going around in circles getting lost--traveling about 70 miles in all. The men who
walked also spent about 8 hours en route, arriving in the town of Clembach only a short 
time after the motor vehicles. The village was pretty well shot up, as a large battle had 
been fought there in December. It was located only a few miles from the Lauter River 
which separates Pfalzerland, in Germany, from Alsace. It was well after 2:00 AM, so 
we stumbled around in the dark and finally bedded down in a large concrete building 
which had been pretty well torn up.
      Mar. 19, 1945: We awoke after a very short sleep. Our new surroundings were 
very meager as far as accommodations went. Our kitchen finally came up and we got 
some food and clean clothes. We cleaned weapons, shaved and took it easy. By this 
time the entire company was again together. Most of the talk was about the future 
possibilities, but the 1st Platoon took the death of Katzmarek pretty hard, although 
to my knowledge it was their only fatality.
     Mar. 20, 1945: Much the same. We were issued combat boots to replace the 
shoe-paks. I kept my buckskin laces for the shoes. They were quite different as they 
made walking easier. We explored the town a bit. The artillery, 155 long toms, was 
already set up and continued to pound the German lines, about 6 miles away. The 
rest of the Bn. occupied a larger building next to ours. There was straw and 
potatoes in the cellar.
     Mar. 21, 1945: Again we were on the move. Everyone felt better because of the shoes 
and because we knew the line was some distance away. The road was soft dirt and we 
could smell the warm weather of spring. Late in the afternoon we came to a small stream, 
the Lauter River. There, across the makeshift bridge, lay Germany. A fairly modern road 
lay across the river running parallel to it. We did not cross but instead climbed up the slope 
on the Alsatian side and dug in about 50 yards above the road. An AA unit was set up 
near the bridge and our kitchen pulled in behind it. We received our mail and tried to 
make elaborate foxholes but the dirt was too soft. Some of the fellows caught fish by 
using grenades. I was tempted to cross the bridge just to be able to say that I had been 
in Germany, but the traffic was pretty heavy and I felt that we'd be across soon enough.
     Mar. 22, 1945: We moved across the bridge late in the morning. We walked east 
following the road for a mile or so then headed north again. Prisoners by the hundreds 
were being marched down the road toward us. At noon we ate C rations by pulling 
off the road and building fires in holes which had been previously dug. We again took 
up the march. Toward evening we emerged into an opening. Alongside the road we 
passed a burned out Sherman tank, the top turret had been lifted by a direct hit and 
the tank had lain there since our first penetration back in December. Across the valley
we could see evidence of a German gun emplacement. Near the road was our first look 
at the WEST WALL, a completely camouflaged pill box. We passed a dead GI which 
had been flattened by a tank and then shoved into a small ditch along the road. We 
broke march at dusk just beyond there and were told to disperse and dig in. In the 
area was a stack of boards which had at one time been a building. We all took some 
of the boards in the hope of fixing up elaborate foxholes. The digging in the side of hill 
was very easy, as the dirt was soft. Just about the time we began cutting branches to 
line the holes, we were told to saddle up and move out. Our next stop found us at the
crest of the mountain range and on our way down again. We could hear the occasional 
roar of our 105s pounding the line ahead of us. We pulled off the road and were told to 
dig in and get some sleep. Perez and I dug together but the slit trench never materialized. 
We ran into a boulder about the size of a stove and spent the rest of the time trying to 
dig around it. The small tree roots were thick so about 2:00 AM we gave up and rolled 
up in our sacks above ground. The sleep was short--we moved about 3:30 and took 
off amid much confusion in the darkness. We split up at a crossroads and our squad began
climbing a blacktop road until we came to a dirt side road at the top of the hill. There we 
set up our gun on the side of a cut on the ridge. The ground was wet and soggy and we 
were all sleepy so we didn't accomplish much.
     Mar. 23, 1945: And so dawned another day. As we had seen absolutely no action, 
we weren't very wary. Of course, the lack of sleep had a lot to do with it. I explored 
our surroundings. Immediately below us at the fork in the road was a horse-drawn 
"pioneer" or engineer wagon. The horse was stretched out near it as was the driver, 
both shot. The wagon contained many interesting objects--teller mines, all sorts of high
explosives, small arms ammunition--scattered along both sides of the road were pack 
sacks, personal articles--everything imaginable. Part of our Task Force had overrun a 
group of rear guards and had gone right through them. The dead were still lying along 
the road. The rest had been sent back as PWs. I picked up many things, among them 
blankets, a roll of butter, cigars, pipes, combs, etc. Finally our jeep arrived and we 
loaded on our equipment and backtracked down the hill to the town of Klingenmunster. 
In the center of the town was a stockade roped off for PWs. Many of them had 
retained some of their food but all their equipment was piled up on the outside and 
was being searched for souvenirs. I picked up several jars of cigars, still searching 
for the kind I had found the week before. We sat around washing and resting, wondering
--where to, next. It was the first German town we had seen and it hadn't been shot 
up very much. Some of the fellows were trying to manipulate a German motorcycle 
they had found--it ran like a one-cylinder washing machine. Just as rumors began 
circulating that we might get a hot dinner, we received orders to move out--back 
up the hill that we had gone up and down that same morning before. We were on 
a more-or-less forced march, traveling light, past the dead horse and wagon around 
the side of a valley that was fairly steep. At each pass the road was pretty well torn up
--it had been bombed. At 5:00 PM we were still marching and still pretty fast--about 
that time we were following a small stream which paralleled the road along the side of a 
hill. At the entrance to this valley was a small village, about 10 buildings which had been 
leveled. I noticed a U. S. half-track with a swastika painted on it burned and still smoking. 
For the next three miles I saw more human disaster than I had witnessed before or since. 
For three solid miles a horse drawn convoy--probably supply and engineers--had been
bottled up by a huge crater at the far end and had been strafed incessantly and finally the 
Task Force had buzzed through shoving everything in the road off to the side and into the 
stream. There were several hundred horses, in all sorts of states of disrepair. Dead, half 
dead, and some running around loose. Some had been run over by tanks; others had 
been driven off the road and down the bank and were lying in the creek, crippled or 
drowned, or burning. Many of the wagons had burned, but there wasn't one live 
German.  The smell of burning flesh was very strong. We hadn't eaten since the day before 
but were in no mood to eat just then. By this time some of the horses had been rounded 
up and many a weary GI had taken to riding bareback. It was just getting dark when 
we arrived at the next town. To the left was a high mountain and we were told that 
there were several hundred German soldiers hiding up in the woods. Our lunch arrived 
in time for supper and we ate out of force of habit and prepared to dig in, in a vineyard, 
in the event that we were counterattacked during the night. The Germans had made 
many deep trenches which suited us just fine. We all got some sleep that night.
     Mar. 24, 1945: That morning we began walking again, equipment loaded on jeeps, 
but walking, at a fast clip. More dead horses--beginning to smell. Past dragon's teeth, 
elaborate pill boxes and deep reed-lined trenches. The heart of the WEST WALL or 
Siegfried Line. It was beautiful country, especially in the spring. Late in the afternoon 
we rounded a bend and saw the ruins of a castle atop a small hill to our left. We 
followed the hill as it sloped downward to the town of Eshbach where we found quarters.
     Mar. 25--Apr. 22, 1945: During this period we were in reserve. When we moved, 
and it was fairly often, we moved great distances by truck. When we stayed in a town, 
we usually stayed several days. Time was spent resting, sight-seeing or pulling guard. 
We stayed several days in Eshbach. One of the indelible memories-- Red Dog. A 
card game played with several people beginning with everyone putting something 
in the pot. Four cards were then dealt to each player. The dealer then asks each 
player in turn how much of the pot he wishes to match. He may pass, match any 
part of it or all of it. If a card in his hand is higher than the second card turned up 
by the dealer (both in number and suit) he wins the pot; if not, his losing increases the pot.
     One of the hands I had was almost a classic. We were using German scrip by this 
time and I had played for about an hour when suddenly I found myself dealt 3 aces and 
the king of the fourth suit--an almost unbeatable hand. I matched the pot, and would 
you know it, I drew the other ace. My only hope now was to stay in the game and 
hope no one else would hit it big. If so, I could at least recover most of my losses 
when the game broke up and the pot was distributed. I finally was able to borrow 
some money and did stay in the game, so I didn't lose too much. Again I was visited 
by an interrogation team asking me about Mrs. Fischer and the two cameras. I again 
told them the truth, that I didn't know anything about who may have taken them. That 
same night, after they had left, I learned that the radioman for Lt. Boyle, the artillery 
forward observer attached to our unit, had taken both and had them shipped back to 
the States. I decided to tell the interrogators the next time I was asked, but I never 
heard from them again, so I guess Mrs. Fischer got her claim paid. That night almost 
everyone got drunk from champagne.
     Easter Sunday, while we were still in Eshbach, several of us decided to get some 
exercise. It was about 1 1/2 miles up the hill to the castle ruins. The Nazis had some 
sort of observation post there at one time and although the original foundations were
laid around 1300 AD, there were many improvements since then. Looking across
country from the main tower, I felt about the same as when I was on the Empire State 
Building. It was because of the combined height of the tower and the steep cliff-like 
drop of the hill. They had a fairly modern looking kitchen and living room in one part. 
There was also a fresh water well inside, although I don't know how deep. On the 
tower was a very old sun dial and the room directly underneath contained glass cases 
of very old implements for cutting, carving, pounding, etc., a sort of museum. And then 
the dungeons--little rooms, filled with straw, sort of hidden in various out-of-the-way 
places. We spent almost two hours climbing stairs, rocks, and ladders trying to explore 
it. Later, we scared up 5 deer but couldn't get close enough to have venison. For a 
day of rest, it was a very tiring one. 
      Still on the West side of the Rhine. A very pretty town. We supervised the turn-in of 
all civilian weapons. These included guns, knives, explosives, ammunition, swords--even 
German Army issued equipment not considered weapons. That is where I got the field 
glasses and the Nazi dress dagger. The town was located in a shallow place in the 
ground (can't be called a valley) flanked on the Northeast by one small hill on top of 
which was a one-room church. Civilians came to this church at all hours of the day, 
not staying over 10 minutes before descending into a more populated part of the 
area. From that church I got a very good picture of the symmetry of the town. There 
just wasn't any. Looking down upon those 180 odd roofs, I couldn't even tell where 
one street lay, and there were 6 of them that I knew of. There was no reason about the 
layout. A few buildings had had their foundations laid in MDCCXVIII, 1718, I reasoned, 
near the center of town, and later, additional buildings were erected until the most modern 
ones were on the very outskirts. Dotting the forward slope of the hill, several Siegfried
Line pill boxes dominated the surrounding terrain. Although the weather was cloudy, I was 
using a pair of captured binoculars (Wehrmacht issued) and could see very well for 
many miles around. While here, our job was to patrol the streets before and after 
curfew and to allow no one on the streets after curfew. Of course, when we adopted 
the one hour change in time during our occupation there, due to U. S. Army daylight 
savings time, it was sort of hard for the civilians to understand, or else they didn't want 
to understand.  All day long there was a continuous line of farmers, farmer's wives,
daughters and sons going to the fields to plant, plow, weed or cultivate. Many were the 
oddities: A bull and a cow pulling a harrow led by a young woman; a middle-aged 
woman pulling a three-pronged cultivator guided by her husband; three women filling in 
a large communications trench on top of a little rise in the ground. At one end of town 
we ran across a house trailer plastered with endless words in bright red and blue paint. 
I don't know the origin: "Hamburgers, Hot Dogs and Pop, Spamburgers and Beer, 
Cocktail Lounge-------(with an arrow pointing) we take care of all women for nuttin,
coib soivice, etc." The neatly cobblestoned streets and the 18th and 19th century 
architecture were perfect. This was the typical small rural town of less than 1,000. 
There were only three houses that one could pick up and transplant to an American 
town without raising any comment. Their fire department consisted of a 2-wheeled and 
a 4-wheeled hose cart with 2-handled pumps. As to their firemen's uniforms, they could 
outdo the U. S. Marines in their full dress red and blue.
     We crossed the Rhine on the 7th of April. Loaded into trucks and across a pontoon 
bridge near Mannheim-Ludwigshaven. Southeast to the North bank of the Nekar River, 
past Heidelberg on the opposite bank and followed the river due east for many miles. 
Several canal boats, wrecked and out of action, were in the river. One of the towns,
Unterdielbach, we stayed in for several days was on the top of a small slope at a 
crossroads. There was a large contingent of refugees from the "Slavias" and the local 
population was worried that when the fighting was over they might not want to return 
to their homeland. We all slept in houses and for the most part supplemented our rations 
from the cellars and attics of the German houses. Potatoes fried in deep fat--a delicacy. 
One of the attractions of this town was a young German girl, about 15, I judge. She 
apparently was a dyed-in-the-wool Nazi. Although of average looks, she came each 
morning from a smaller town about a mile away, and the GIs would line up to watch her 
go by. She carried a pitchfork and worked cleaning out some of the barns. We referred to 
her as the "Manure Girl" but her attraction was the way she carried herself when she walked. 
She looked neither right nor left, head held high, and would not respond to conversation, 
shouting or accept any assistance in her chores. No one was foolish enough to get too 
close to her while she carried the pitchfork.
     One morning, about noon, while I was standing guard at the crossroads, I heard 
the unmistakable sound of machine gun fire from an airplane. I had my field glasses 
handy and quickly spotted the aircraft. The sky had been full of allied bombers and 
fighters, but we weren't close enough to the front lines to hear strafing. A P11 fighter 
was pursuing a British Mosquito two-engine light bomber. One could see the tracers 
and the mushroom of fire and smoke as the bomber caught fire. It began to slip into 
a spin while burning. After losing about half his altitude, the pilot jumped, for I could
see the parachute blossom and the plane disappear as it hit the ground several miles 
away. About 20 minutes later a jeep came barreling up the road and came to a halt 
at the roadblock. It carried two GIs, one a medic, and a wounded German pilot. We 
looked quickly at their papers and passed them on. Not before I had cut off a piece 
of the parachute which was still attached to the pilot. I finally cut a smaller piece of 
that and mailed it home. The chute had oil spots, blood spots and burnt and melted 
silk. The pilot had landed in a grove of trees, his parachute hanging on a limb. He 
was pretty well cut up, burned, and otherwise not feeling so well. A Nazi, flying a captured 
British aircraft, trying to escape to "I don't know where." And getting picked up and 
captured alive. His partner stayed with the plane and so was no longer a worry. We 
sent the jeep to the aid station. 
     Back onto trucks and back down the hill following the Nekar River, past Heidelberg, 
until finally we drove through Heilbronn. Now back on the ground. Closer to the front
lines--guard duty at night was particularly difficult since Wehrmacht personnel were 
wandering around at night wanting to be captured.

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