H. K. Brown's WW II 1944--1945 Diary Sec 7

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

Part 7 of 11

Dec. 9, 1944: We were up about 4:00 AM following the river bank to positions
protecting the railway bridge across which the troops were to go. Seatter was carrying
the gun to my tripod and during one of our 5 minute stops, got lost from the column. The
artillery barrage was supposed to begin at 4:50 and last until 5:15. By the time Seatter
was located in the dark and our position established, the zero hour was fast approaching.
We had to set up our gun in a shallow trench, already dug, which was covered by a few
logs and evergreen boughs. Haley and Seatter crawled under the logs covering the trench
while I put the finishing touches on the gun position. Immediately the Corps Artillery
opened up--all 48 artillery pieces, plus heavy mortars and 4.2 in. chemical mortars. It
was terrific--for the next 20 minutes or so the exploding artillery rounds traversing up
and down the opposite bank, the town, the rail yard, the hills and woods, seemed to
light up the whole area. As the barrage began to slacken, the rifle troops began to start
across the railroad bridge. All went well for about two minutes until sporadic German
artillery fire started to land in the very same area that our own artillery had previously
swept. A few of the rounds came as far as our side of the river. One landed near an
overturned half-track behind which Spurr and Mike, our runner, were lying.
There were several tree bursts. The three of us were lying just below the level of the
ground, with one layer of logs over us for protection. One 88 mm round landed about
2 yards from the hole, blowing the roof off and covering us with dirt and rocks. About
two minutes later another round exploded about 6 feet from one corner of the hole,
bouncing us around a bit. The fire was too accurate to be guess work. By this time
the Merzwiller battle was in full swing. We could hear the fire fight intensify. As it was
daylight by this time, we started across what was left of the railroad bridge. At the far
end, lying near a shell crater, was one dead GI, a victim of a 105 mm short round.
The 1st section supported C Company in a frontal attack on the town. Our 2nd
section was to support B Company in a flanking protective move in order to prevent
a counter attack from the West. We followed the main road and met with some
opposition by small arms from a group of houses just outside of the town. B Company
then left the road and began climbing a small, bare rise to the left. As they got to the
crest of the rise, they met some small arms fire from a wooded area, slightly downhill
and about 200 yards on the other side of a plowed field. We were ordered to set up
our machine guns along an old fence line just at the crest of the rise, in order to cover
the forward slope. I dug in immediately behind the gun while Seatter and Haley occupied
a large shell hole about 20 yards to my rear. The entire top of the ridge drew water at
6 inches. Any kind of a hole that we dug was full of water immediately--worthless. There
we lay until mid-afternoon, pinned down by machine gun and rifle fire from the woods to
our front. Finally we received some artillery support--one battery (4 guns). Soon 105 mm
rounds were skimming the hill, coming from behind us, going over head, and landing in the
woods to our front. We had sporadic support for about 15 minutes. The last 4 rounds
fired by the battery almost proved disastrous.
The first round skimmed over our heads by about 30 feet and landed 100 yards in
front of us, in the middle of the plowed field. The second round whined over our heads
much closer, landing about 60 yards to our front. The third round swished and sizzled
as it streaked toward us, barely clearing our gun position, and exploding about 20 yards
to our front. That was too close--we were all hunched up waiting for the fourth one, and
when we heard the muzzle blast, we knew what to expect. It had our name on it--it
wouldn't miss. Just a short hiss and a tremendous explosion--it had been fired on a direct
line with the others--it landed just behind the shell hole occupied by Seatter and
Haley. Mud flew everywhere for the next few seconds. Needless to say, the artillery was
the target for a few choice words.
Our relief was the 3rd Battalion--they arrived about 4:00 PM. They were pinned down
by small arms fire even before they could occupy our holes. We left them in this
predicament, as we wanted to find a house where we could dry our clothes and find
something to eat. At the first house we came to, the 1st Section had caught and was
complacently roasting a chicken after having raided the local wine cellar. We were too
tired to search further and decided upon a house which had pet rabbits, which we ate,
and liked, and lived happily ever after. No--we slept in our bedrolls on the floor in the
house.
Dec. 10, 1944: I awoke to find I had been sleeping in the hall. So, next door to eat
breakfast with the other section. We pulled out of Merzwiller around noon. Near the
railroad tracks we passed a German Flak-wagon--the driver was still in it, burned to a
crisp. Our column headed due north toward the German border of Pfalzerland. Late
that afternoon we came to an open field where could be seen thousands of pieces of
paper scattered to the wind. I picked one up--it was a pamphlet with one side written in
German and the other side in English. It was pure propaganda. It read, "American boys,
what are you doing here? What are you fighting for?" And a lot more about President
Roosevelt and the Wall Street industrialists--pure propaganda. About dark our section
took the left fork in the road and went about a half mile to a little town to spend the night.
This town had been shelled pretty badly by our artillery. All that could be seen were dead
oxen, dead chickens and wrecked and ruined buildings. The inhabitants couldn't understand
why we had shelled their town at all since there had been no German soldiers in it for days.
We occupied a house that belonged to a woman and her two children. Both the woman
and the kids were not exactly friendly. Of course this town was less than 20 km from the
German border. We were in the house less than 10 minutes when orders came to move
out, so we assembled in the street. We were then told to go back and prepare to spend
the night in our billets. But when we got back to the house we had just left, it was locked
and nobody was home. So we broke the door in, set up the machine gun in the doorway,
swiped about 4 dozen eggs, a loaf of bread, some butter and some jelly. When supper
was prepared, orders came to move out, so we put the remaining eggs in our pockets
(field jacket pockets were large and roomy) and marched off, eating as we went and
carrying our equipment. It was dark as pitch. Finally, we came to Walbourg, where
the other section was stationed (All the unnecessary walking could have been avoided
had we taken the fork to the right, just before dark). In one place a bridge had been
blown up, so we had to detour into a field and then back to the road. It was getting late--
we stopped at the first house in town and naturally the other troops had all the beds taken.
Into the kitchen--a little more wood on the fire--and soon we were frying eggs again. Just
before midnight, about the time we finally got bedded down, it started to rain.
Dec. 11, 1944: The battalion left Walbourg around noon and walked until it reached the
rail line. At the underpass, which had been bombed, we followed the rail line north until we
came to a large tannery. After some confusion as to guard positions, about dark we took
quarters in a drying room of the tannery.
Dec. 12, 1944: Up that morning without anything to eat. We retraced our steps to
Walbourg, and this time rested at a building used as a stable. There, unfortunately, after
we had shed our equipment, both Seatter and I discovered our pistol and holster missing.
We immediately reported them stolen and finally Seatter's holster and my pistol were
recovered from some of the men of Cannon Company and our antitank company. I kept
both and Seatter put in a request for a replacement. After eating, we left early in the
afternoon down the road, a double column, one on each side of the road. At one time
we had to detour about 400 yards around a blown bridge. I had found a good map of
northern Alsace in the stable, the better to follow our route. We passed through Soultz
unter Wald, near some mines. This was very close to the Maginot Line. Some
one-star General saw us walking and apparently didn't like our looks, so ordered us
through the town to sleep in the woods that evening. At dark, Capt. Neely persuaded
the battalion CO to let us bed down in a group of mine buildings near the road. Next to
these was a PW stockade. We slept at the top of the mine shaft on some dry reeds.
Dec. 13, 1944: Early that morning we began walking toward the German border.
Along the way, Capt. Lincoln told Carroll that he had been promoted to S/Sgt. Following
the railroad tracks, about noon we came to a town that was occupied by colored
troops (a tank destroyer unit). Our section stayed in a house which had its cellar
flooded with water. We received packages and mail. I got a box of candy and a silver
ID bracelet from Marj. Several of the fellows tried catching some chickens that were
running loose but stopped after the farmer ran after them with a pitchfork, apparently
cussing them out in German. The people in this area appeared to have plenty to eat:
potatoes, ham, carrots, bread, turnips, etc. I doubt if they had even felt the effects of
the war until we came along. We pulled out of town late that afternoon and walked for
a while, always walking and carrying full equipment. Our destination, or so we were
led to believe, was a fairly large town where we were to spend a few days and rest up.
When we arrived, we found it fully occupied--so we started out again. It was generally
agreed that we were lost--finally, we came to a small village and found an unoccupied
barn for the night.
Dec. 14, 1944: An entire day of rest. Here I wrote my first letters since Dec. 6th. The
whole day was spent sitting around a large fire, eating, talking and waiting. That night I
slept in a house directly across the street from the barn.
Dec. 15, 16, 17 and 18, 1944: Off again, walking a few more miles north until coming
to the town of Steinselz. The sky was just getting light as we arrived and took up quarters
in the extreme east end of the town. As it was very foggy early in the morning, the visibility
was poor. Stan Panoske immediately thought he saw some of the enemy running up the
hillside on the northern side of the town. We were excited as we ran into the house and
hurriedly began setting up our machine guns in the windows. We had to move two old
women from their one small warm room. The men on the hillside turned out to be GIs.
We remained in the house for 4 days; there was much argument because of the proximity
to the German border and because we were not used to inaction. I went back several
miles by truck one day to take a shower. While there, I saw one German plane. Dozens
of AA fire immediately broke out and he took for the cover of his own lines. Most of
the fellows slept in large 4 poster beds, covered with feather ticks. In our bedroom were
3 modern mechanical mousetraps, the queerest pieces of machinery I had seen. It was
quite a while before we were convinced that these were not booby traps. Just outside
our window was a battery of "Long Toms," 155 mm artillery that took to firing at the
most inopportune moments. The muzzle blasts literally shook the walls and windows.
We took some pictures of the house and were quite ready to move on when orders came
to push further north on the next morning.
Dec. 19,1944: Following the road to the North we passed a battery of 90 mm AA guns.
They were the first of that size we had seen. We descended into the fair-sized town
of Wissembourg, located on the Lauter River, less than 2 km from the border. We did
not stop in town, however, but continued on through it taking a small dirt road leading
to the North. We dug foxholes on the outskirts of town in the midst of a large vineyard.
The town had been taken the previous day by the 14th Armored Div., supported by one
of our regiments. We found a small shed full of straw mats which we used to improve our
foxholes. Beautiful--straw-lined floor, ceiling and walls. Just across a fence was a turnip
patch. I soon had a stove going--a large tin can half full of sand and dirt, with gasoline
poured into it. Another foxhole dug for nothing--we were ordered back to town and about
dark found a house that was pretty badly beaten up. We had no more than started to
clean it up a bit when word came down that an empty apartment house near the center
of town was available. We loaded everything in the jeep and soon had settled in the
apartment house. Our unit took over the 2nd floor and part of the 3rd floor. These were
very modern apartments, well furnished, full of English, French and German books,
magazines and newspapers.
Dec. 20, 1944: Up early to explore the house. Lt. Moser became our new platoon
leader. There developed a terrific argument over where the different sections were to stay.
I found 3 dozen eggs preserved in a large crock--I think it was some kind of brine. At
any rate, they tasted as good as fresh eggs. Everyone had plenty to eat and I read most
of the English publications.
Dec. 21 and 22, 1944: Much the same as the day before. In the afternoon we were
told our battalion had been assigned to Corps Reserve. What special assignment did
they have for us now? At dusk we were told to assemble along the street. We moved
less than 200 yards and were told to find shelter. I found a copy of "Mein Kampf" printed
in German. The house we occupied had two stories. The kitchen was on the ground floor
and the bedrooms above. Some cooked while others (myself included) stretched out
in one of the bedrooms on the second floor. Mike Colacarro, our runner, accidentally
discharged his pistol in the bedroom, making a hole in the ceiling of the kitchen and
hitting the stove. It went generally unnoticed, except by the two fellows using the stove,
as artillery shells began falling into the section of town we were in. We all cleared the top
floor after that. Sometime after midnight the church bells started ringing and more artillery
shells fell. Finally, our orders came to move out--it was almost 3:00 AM. Our entire
platoon traveled by company carriers. I rode in the rear of the maintenance truck. At
first we rode south, in convoy, stopping every few hours to build a fire and warm ourselves
and our rations. It was cold! Cold! Cold! Awful cold!!! Early in the afternoon of the 22nd
we came to a town somewhere in Lothringen to stay for the night. We had traveled south,
then west, then north to arrive in the Saar basin and relieve a unit of the 3rd Army, an
armored unit, for service at the Battle of the Bulge.
Dec. 23, 1944: The squads were shaken up and Winik was appointed our new squad
leader. We cooked dinner in a large kitchen belonging to a farmer. I received a package
containing a bottle of ink. That night we moved out toward the front, to relieve the armored
units. While en route in convoy, while it was still dark, the trucks had stopped for "Piss Call"
and a German bomber flew the length of the road not more than 600 feet over our
heads. The fields were snow covered but the roads were clear and the plane could
probably follow the dark road outline. We speculated that it was a supply or similar plane
between the mainland of Germany and the channel ports which were still in German control.
That night we slept in a house, the only furniture, a stove. The house, otherwise was
completely bare.
Dec. 24, 1944: We moved out early in the morning toward the town of Ruhling. The
armored unit, occupying the town, immediately moved out. Around noon, a squad of
A Company, supported by our platoon, left town for positions in a small patch of timber
overlooking the Saar River. The column was led by an Armored Div. infantryman; he
was to take us to positions already established and bring his men back. The column, single
file, with around 20 feet between each man, led from town through an orchard, out into
a meadow (lightly snow covered), past a large barn (roof only--no sides) about 2/3 full
of hay. The column had easy going as it was cold, not much snow on the bare ground,
and a very clear day. The head of the column was well past the barn, almost half way
to the timber when mortar rounds began searching the column. Everyone hit the ground
and those that were close enough ran for the barn. Our squad was still about 75 yards
away when the rounds began falling close to us. Immediately ahead of me and a bit to
my right was a large watering trough. I flung myself behind it as Johnson, carrying the gun,
hit the ground to my right. Two rounds landed within 20 feet of us. A piece of shrapnel
tore a hole in the water jacket of the gun lying alongside of Johnson. Johnson's Christmas
packages, which he was also carrying, were dropped-- scattering them all over the
barnyard. We all grabbed our equipment and ran for the shelter of the barn. Bastuk,
our medic, was already patching up some of the wounded. We withdrew completely
and went back to town. The armored infantry guide had been killed, as well as two
men from A Company, besides the 3 or 4 that had been wounded. About dark we again
set out and this time gained the cover of the forest without mishap. We set up two guns,
one in a pillbox on the Maginot Line, and the other about 30 yards from it. We took
turns guarding and were relieved by members of our other section before daylight the
next morning.
Dec. 25, 1944: Christmas Day--and it was spent in a house in Ruhling. I talked with
the family living there and found that the young man was hiding from the enemy. He was
operating under the FFI. Our dinner consisted of rations brought up during darkness
by jeep from the kitchen. It included turkey and two cans of beer for each man, among
other things.
Dec. 26, 1944--Jan. 3, 1945: We were up before daylight and proceeded across the
field toward the positions we had left the morning before. Positions had to be moved, and
after relieving the other unit, we carried the machine guns back down through the woods
to a point overlooking an open field of fire. We had to dig out an abandoned foxhole and
also set up a machine gun nest in a ditch running along a brushy fence. We were finished
by dark and settled down to guarding. To our left rear was an antitank gun and further
down the slope along a creek was another machine gun nest, with an outpost of riflemen in
front of that. There was quite a bit of snow on the ground by this time. From the 26th of Dec.
until the 4th of Jan. it was much the same with a few minor exceptions. One day we would
occupy the machine gun nest on the hillside; then back to town; then occupy the position
by the creek; then back to town. Very little action--one day four stray mortar rounds
landed near our position.
One morning while we were in the position near the creek, (we had relieved the other
unit after dark the previous evening) Winik and I were lying in our sleeping bags in the
gun position, after keeping watch all night. About 7:30 AM, just after daylight, three men
dressed in civilian clothes walked up to our position and started speaking German. Winik
had his back to them and I had been reading a book and did not notice them walk up.
It was a cold brisk morning and the sun was shining on the snow. At their first words I
just about had heart failure. I was scared; they had walked up past our outpost unnoticed
and were in a good position to do us in. Each carried a German potato masher on his
belt. Winik and I immediately jumped up out of our hole, shed our sleeping bags and
covered them with our weapons. We took their grenades and gave each a cigarette
from our K rations. They were French civilians who had escaped from the town near
the river. They said that they had overpowered a guard and taken the grenades. They had
noticed one dead American Lieutenant lying on the road just inside the town. That
confirmed our knowledge of the fact that one of our patrol leaders had failed to return.
We held them until we could send them around to the point in the woods where they
were picked up later and questioned.
During those two weeks, a large scale battle about 100 miles to the North was going
on. Although we knew nothing about what had happened at the time, even on our off days,
we would dig and set up secondary emplacements. One day a two-star was scheduled
to inspect fortifications. We were alerted several times before he finally arrived. He didn't
stay long--just as he had finished criticizing our positions, a stray 88 round came from
across the river and landed in the snow near the position in the open field. None of us saw
it land as we had hit the ground and it had sunk well into the 18 inches of snow cover
before it exploded. We manned another position overlooking the twin towns of
Grossliederstroff and Kleinliederstroff for one night but since our position was located
in a heavy woods, we saw nothing. We did, however, capture one German soldier
who had gotten lost, or so he said, and was walking across the field right into our
positions. He walked right into about 30 riflemen and machine-gunners. He said he
was looking for his outpost--to relieve his guard. Personally, from the way he acted, I
think he knew where he was going, and was glad he got captured, and was safe.
Our house was located at the East end of Ruhling across from a temporary PW
enclosure. This was nothing more than a small wooden building with straw on the
floor, with a double screen of fence around it. Next door to us was a German barracks.
Several of the rooms looked very comfortable. We were especially watchful while in
town after what had happened on the 24th. The town was too close to the border and
no one could tell which civilians were sympathizers of the enemy. Most of the civilians
lived in a huge underground cave. It was nearly a mile long and 40 or 50 yards wide.
There were kept provisions and everything else imaginable. Spaces were segregated
off and families lived there for several months. The cave was an abandoned coal mine,
since we were in the rich French coal region of the Saar Basin. Ruhling was located
on a bare flat plain so our supplies had to be run in just before dark and just before
dawn each day. We heard the rumor that M Company was to relieve us, and on the
3rd of Jan. the entire platoon was relieved, that is all but myself. I was to stay an
extra day and show the men coming in the positions. As far as I was concerned, it
was a good opportunity to get a full night's sleep, so I climbed into my sleeping bag
and didn't wake up until almost daylight on the 4th, about an hour before I was to
leave.
Jan. 4--15, 1945: We were a bit late and the jeep was tearing up the road trying to
get over the next high terrain feature before we would become too obvious a target.
We were stopped numerous times, halfheartedly by guards who didn't even bother
to take their hands out of their pockets. We rode back about 6 or 7 miles to the town
of Diebling, where Regimental Hqs. had set up. It was a crossroads for the 410th and
411th. I saw several jeeploads of wounded being returned from the 4llth sector
through the town.
The town of Diebling was noted for its coal mining. However, it had no coal. No
transportation either--travel was restricted and dangerous. The only coal hauled
was in GI, 2 1/2 ton trucks manned by details of GIs. Spurr should know, because
he was detailed one day. We did everything to keep warm. We stole coal from a
pile in front of Regt'l Hqs. and even went out several days and gathered wood along
the creek. By this time we were issued heavy, quilted sleeping bags. Most of the
time between the 4th and l1th of Jan. 1945 was spent resting. It was a welcome change.
Football in the streets. A few movies, among them "Gaslight," before we left. One night
we had a musical comedy, but the sound track didn't work. I was told twice to shave
off my beard, which by that time was well on its way toward the two-inch length. On
the 11th, our commanding general resigned due to health and he was replaced by the
hero of Bastogne, B/G Anthony C. McAuliffe, the second in command of the 101st
Airborne Div. He was insistent upon cleanliness and neatness, and so after the third
warning to shave, I shaved. Many of the fellows didn't recognize me since they had
never seen me without a beard. It was just as well, I guess, since, in case of a gas attack,
I wouldn't have had much time to run and shave before donning my gas mask. It was
about this time that Winik got his orders to return to the states. His father had somehow
managed to get him appointed to West Point. In the meantime, Pogrmich, a man who
had been wounded at Itterswiller, returned. He took over the squad. We played cards,
ate, when we had something to eat, and generally took it easy. Our only duty was
pulling guard at the center of the crossroads, but nothing much happened.
One night we saw an air raid on Saarbrucken. It was like watching fireworks except
that there was very little noise--too far away. We made snow ice cream and took
pictures. The owner of our house wanted to go to the next town and get his pig, but
as he out of favor with the mayor who would not sign his pass, the military would not
let him go. We got paid on the 15th but had nothing to spend it on.
Jan. 16, 1945: That evening parts of the 70th Div. moved in to replace us. They
were fresh from the states and had been ambushed while packed in trucks in convoy
--about 60% casualties. Their motor pool guide had led them straight into the German
lines and before they could get turned around many had been killed still asleep in the
trucks. That evening we moved out--destination unknown. It seemed that the
Wehrmacht was slowly pushing us back to the Saverne Gap--all the territory we had
taken since Dec. 10. They were also pushing us from Hagenau and from along the
Rhine River. We loaded into 2 1/2 ton GI trucks and traveled all that night. I crawled
under a seat and slept most of the way.
Jan. 17, 1945: Daylight found us about 3 miles from Niederbronn on a direct route
to the next town--enemy occupied. We guarded the two main arteries leading from town.
It so happened that near our outpost was a house and in it lived a family who liked to
show their appreciation. At any rate Spurr and Haley got so drunk that they had to
ride--they couldn't walk. We walked to Niederbronn that afternoon past a GI
7th Army cemetery, but I couldn't see any names I recognized. Down into the town
--it was one of the prettiest towns in Alsace--and it wasn't shelled too badly yet. There
was quite a bit of activity as the 100th Div. was having some more trouble in Bitche.
We moved into a 3rd floor apartment with a stove and beds and thought we were on
top of the world. We bought 3 five-gallon barrels of beer for the platoon and had
things well under control when we were notified that our unit had been placed in
Corps Reserve. That sounded fine or ominous depending upon how you looked at
it. It meant that we would be used only as a last resort and then only as a reserve unit
to be switched from place to place whenever and wherever needed. Several of us
took it with a grain of salt, along with the beer which was very flat, because of what
had happened before. To make it short, we were roused out of bed at 11:30 that night
and piled into brand new huge QM trucks and carried off to another location. We
spent about 6 hours of steady riding and it wasn't bad--the smoothest ride we had
seen to date.
Jan. 18, 1945: I remember riding through Hagenau about daylight--several buildings
were ablaze and occasionally an enemy round would land in town. We drove slowly on
through and stopped at a little town just as the fog was beginning to lift. The next two hours
were spent in trying to find a house to stay in. Everything was shut up tight and after
rousing someone, we found all the buildings full of refugees from the towns closer to the
river. Finally, on the West end of town we found a farmhouse that was willing to take us
in and let us get warm. Everything was arranged and we were about ready to fix a meal
when the order came to move out. It was then that we found that our battalion was the
only unit which had made the convoy move. Our mission, as a combat team, was to
attack the town of Sessenheim, located on the railroad, and hold it just long enough to
rescue about 75 GIs who had been trapped there for the past two days. Their unit had
tried and had been beaten back, with heavy losses. It must have been an important
mission because our 411th Regimental Combat Team was alerted to take over in
case we needed help. As we walked down the street that chilly morning, we could
see many American tanks and related armored equipment standing under the trees,
much of it looking as if it needed repair.
In broad daylight we filed out of town on to the broad open plain covered with
snow toward a thick grove of trees. We were told that the town of Sessenheim was
somewhere beyond the trees, between us and the Rhine River. We felt like sitting ducks
as we slowly made our way, following the road to the edge of the timber. Nothing happened,
so we presumed the enemy was not watching our progress. Once under cover of the
forest, most of us were anxious to dig in and find some sort of shelter. The woods were
full of piles of 4 foot split logs, neatly stacked for hauling. They would be ideal for
cover for holes. Orders seemed to be mixed and no one knew what to do. Finally, the
combat team was split up and our C Company assigned to attack from the left while
A Company would continue straight ahead. Our 2nd Platoon was split and one section
went with C Company. My section accompanied A Company; the 1st Platoon was to
stay in reserve in case abnormal trouble developed. At the time this seemed unfair, since
our platoon had taken all the casualties so far. But our section tagged along with Lt. Smith's
A Company. Looking back, I can consider myself lucky, based upon what happened.

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