H. K. Brown's WW II 1944--1945 Diary Sec 8

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

Part 8 of 11

As C Company had to swing around to the left, we killed time by walking slowly toward
our jumping off place. We piled all our spare equipment, including our raincoats, gas masks
and blanket rolls in one large stack and kept right on walking. There were several dog fights
in the air with the German pilots seeming to have the upper hand. We did have one persistent
L4 spotting fire for our artillery almost get knocked down by a combination of German FW
and German ground fire. While following the road through the forest, I saw 8 American light
tanks come buzzing up to disappear ahead of us into the thicker woods. Things were
looking up--maybe we could get the job done and withdraw very soon. We weren't to jump
off until 5:00 PM which would make it just about dark, so we took our time--wishing we had
a hole, when German artillery began to search the forest with 88 mm fire. About 3:00 PM
we arrived at a beautiful spot for protection. It was the mortar positions for the last unit that
had been there. These were nice roomy holes, with homemade stoves, solid log roofs,
extra rations and blankets. We didn't remain long but soon moved out again.
Single file down the road, across a short open space, shell-marked by mortar fire. Ahead
lay a fairly large open snow-covered field--on the other side could be seen a thick grove of
trees. Between us and the field was a thin line of trees. Ours was to be a surprise attack with
no pre-artillery fire. As we lined up along the row of trees, waiting for the order to advance,
we could hear some small arms fire to our left which sounded as if C Company had run into
a little trouble. At any rate we soon forgot all about C Company. At about 5 minutes before
time to jump off, German mortar, rocket, light artillery and heavy artillery fire began to come
in. It was staggering--it was the worst barrage I ever experienced. Somehow they had either
known, or had guessed, the time of our attack. The field in front of us was torn to shreds.
Mortar rounds by the dozens poured into the small fringe of trees where we had been lined
up ready to advance. Everyone hit the ground. As it was dark by this time, communication
was impossible. The firing kept up until midnight, although not in the volume they threw at
us during the first hour. At intervals, the German fire would descend upon our positions,
then about 4 to 5 minutes later he would pour a barrage a hundred yards behind us. A
Company lost several men right from the first barrage. I never did get a chance to set up
the machine gun. Johnson was carrying the gun and we dug together. We began digging
lying on our stomachs rising slightly on our elbows between barrages to dig. In no time,
we were sweating. Shrapnel was tearing the trees and bushes around us to shreds. The
tail assembly from a mortar bounced off my helmet and for a bit I thought I had been hit.
Occasionally a German flare would light the sky--just making sure we weren't advancing
or retreating. Pogrmich, Spurr and several riflemen had crawled into a large dugout with a
few timbers covering it and one mortar round (a dud) landed in the soft dirt thrown up
around it and the nose of the mortar round just stuck under the lip of the roof into the hole.
Medics were working frantically and several men seemed out of their minds as they were
yelling for someone to shoot them because they had been hit pretty badly. I was chewing
gum a mile a minute, a custom I never failed to keep when the going got rough. Johnson
made the classic statement when he leaned over and hollered in my ear, "Brown, I'm scared."
I told him I was scared too, but there was nothing much we could do about it. We even
talked with some of the fellows next to us about running for it between barrages, but
finally the orders came through to sit tight and be prepared to retreat the first chance we got.
By midnight the firing slackened off--we then had a shallow slit trench dug which did
protect us from almost anything except a direct hit or a tree burst over our head. We were
told to keep a space between our body and the ground to prevent concussion--that's one
fact, fortunately, I didn't have to prove or disprove. We could hear someone cutting wood
in the grove of trees across the field from us.
Jan. 19, 1945: About 2:00 AM we withdrew several hundred yards. There an old
abandoned farmhouse stood, right among several concrete Maginot Line pill boxes,
also abandoned. We set up the machine gun in one of the pill boxes, but immediately
saw it was completely inadequate for defense or offense. The gun was then set up just
outside the pill box--we would use the pill box only for cover in case of mortar or artillery
fire. As daylight arrived on that morning everything seemed calm. The Germans did begin
to throw tons of heavy rockets into a town a few miles to our extreme right--these sounded
like thousands of birds with their whistling and fluttering noises. As we had no communication
with C Company, A Company attacked as scheduled in order to give the right flank
protection, if needed. The weary riflemen took off while we at the edge of the woods
looked on. Our job was to make sure the enemy did not outflank us and to provide cover
in case the GIs should be forced to retreat.
To our left front was a sort of shallow pond, actually a low place in the field where water
had accumulated about 10 to 12 inches deep. However, it was now frozen solid, and the
riflemen had a difficult time walking as they made their way forward. The last rifleman had
disappeared not more than 20 minutes when all hell broke loose. Nebelwerfers, mortars,
burp guns and Flak were heard in the forest ahead of us. Immediately A Company riflemen
began pouring out of the forest, running without guns, frantically trying to seek protection
from whatever was chasing them. They hit the ice a-running. Many slipped, skidded and fell
full length into the protection of trees and brush at our end of the ice. One fellow stayed on
his feet, only to have a burp gun trip him up at right angles. He took lead in both legs, before
he hit the ice and tried to crawl to safety. A medic jeep then tried to rescue him. With red
cross flags flying, the jeep took off over the ice. Miraculously, the jeep reached the
wounded man, spun around once and stopped. The driver helped the rifleman into the
back of the jeep, then got in and gunned the 4-wheel drive, getting foothold on the grass,
twigs, and brush sticking up through the ice. The German sniper didn't fire another shot at
the jeep. A Company was a beaten outfit--they had encountered everything imaginable.
The Germans had filtered through the line at night and the riflemen found themselves
surrounded with the German soldiers dug in all around them.
It wasn't long before we got orders to pull back, so back we walked in small groups,
while Johnson was sent to contact the 1st Section attached to C Company. As we
approached our pile of equipment, a burp gunner hurried us along by throwing lead over
our heads--another opened up ahead of us--they seemed everywhere. The Germans were
hot after us and in some cases had even passed us. We were running by this time and as
we passed our equipment, we each grabbed a bedroll and gas mask and kept right on going,
only this time through the unbeaten forest, not the beaten path.
Johnson finally returned, not being able to find our 1st Section--however, they soon
appeared. We found out from them that they and C Company had taken quite a beating
that morning. Philpotts had been hit in the shoulder with machine gun slugs and LaPoint had
been hit in the head. Both were luckily carried back to safety to a jeep and back to a
hospital. C Company had advanced the night before and had gotten as far as the
railroad but, without support from A Company on the right, had dug in. The next morning
when they started to advance, the Germans met them with everything they had. When
Philpotts was hit, LaPoint took over and got it through his helmet before he could fire a
half dozen rounds. Seatter then took over and lost his head for a second. Although he
was ordered to cease fire, he accidentally slipped and fired one burst. Immediately the
German crossfire ripped the top of the railroad embankment. Capt. Neely ordered a
withdrawal and most of the wounded were carried out. Many dead were left, but part
of the 411th Combat Team helped the withdrawal so the remainder of those able to walk
eventually found their way back to where the rest of the battalion was dug in. Every single
one of the 8 light tanks had been hit and put out of action.
The battalion was dug in with a perimeter defense. We had our position a few hundred
feet from the CP. The stacks of wood piled up in the forest were made to order. The
digging was soft and we covered our holes with timbers and dirt. That night it snowed
about 5 inches.
Jan. 20, 1945: Occasionally a stray round would crash into the tree tops close by. Our
own artillery was conspicuously absent. Seatter told me about seeing Russ, Marj's brother.
Another unit had taken over our positions up forward and were supposed to attack--we
rested in our foxholes. Rifle company mess was tasty. We were given a crate of California
navel oranges (huge things) just fresh from a refrigerator truck. Mail call included
packages. All sorts of rumors were going around. Once in a while we could hear burp
guns fairly close and once the cry went up that a German soldier had been spotted. Two
men from C Company finally found their way back to the battalion. The Germans had
stripped them of their clothing and had tied them to a tree to freeze. After they returned,
everyone watched pretty closely for strangers in GI clothing. About dark on that evening
we were ordered to move out. Everyone began packing immediately, anxious to get out of
the trap we had gotten into. As I was in the last unit near the edge of the forest, we had to
cover all the other units until the forest was cleared of GIs. We were able to move out about
11:00 PM. The moon was shining slightly and it was light enough to see, in fact it was too
light. We did make way too much noise, with the jeeps and everything, but we retreated
without mishap back across the plain, up the slope, through several towns until we arrived at
the town of Marianthal about 3:30 AM.
Jan. 21, 1945: We were assigned a house but had some trouble rousing the owner.
Finally, he climbed out of the cellar long enough to let us in. I pulled guard about 6:00 AM
as it was getting daylight. I watched a few artillery barrages thrown across the Rhine and
saw tracers along the river, until my time was up. I soon discovered that the night latch
had closed behind me and I was locked out. I had a terrible time trying to get back into
the house. After being unable to awake anybody, I pounded on the cellar door and got the
owner up again. All the fellows from my unit were sound asleep. Part of our unit moved
to another house next door after daylight and I cooked some cereal. Spurr found a good
pocket watch in a uniform hanging in a closet. (Several years later, while visiting Virgil
Morris in Iowa, I found out that Morris was the one who found the watch) Most of us
shaved and cleaned up as we hadn't had a chance since the 17th. We knew we were to
be trucked out that evening so were feeling pretty good. They got us ready to move out
several hours early, as was natural, so we walked to the square and in order to be off the
streets, went into a local beer tavern and drank beer until it was time to move. This time
our trip wasn't so long and about 2:00 AM we found ourselves in the area of Ingwiller,
along the Moder River. I slept, if you could call it that, on the second floor cubbyhole of
a deserted shack.
Jan 22, 1945: Early that morning, right after daylight, we went downstairs and into a
living room next door where there was at least a fire to keep warm by. We slept most of the
day. In the room was a huge clock that rang every fifteen minutes and played a tune every
half hour. We also learned that Philpotts had died shortly after getting back to the aid station.
He had died of shock. Nothing was heard about LaPoint. That afternoon we moved to
Ingwiller. Lots of snow everywhere. We were assigned a luxury apartment, complete with
furnishings. It consisted of only two bedrooms but they must have been bridal suites. Slept
there only that one night.
Jan. 23, 1945: Assigned to defensive positions along the northern edge of town. Our
quarters were in a house on the edge of town near an intersection, just across the Moder
River facing the line which was about one and a half miles to our front. To our left front
was the remains of a Flying Fortress which had crash-landed in a field. It didn't seem to
be damaged much. We dug in a position along the road leading west from town and took
turns standing guard. In our house lived a blind man, his wife, and twin girls about 6 years
old. They weren't bashful and would come into our room and climb all over us. That is
where much of our candy and chewing gum went. Freezing cold outside, but warm
sleeping inside.
Jan 24, 1945: Another cold day. Still about 7 inches of snow everywhere. Routine--
pulled guard and back inside to get warm. We were alerted to move several times but
nothing happened, so we settled down for another night of good sleeping. One of the
alerts had made us move out of town past the B-17 and dig in on a little side road; it
seemed that the enemy had started a counter attack. But the all-clear was given, so back
to our original position.
Jan. 25, 1945: So dawned another fateful day. As a matter of fact, it didn't dawn quite
so easily as that. We were awakened about 4:00 AM and told that we had an attack
support mission, that the Germans were running wild in Schillersdorf, a few kilometers to
the North. The town had been occupied by 3rd Bn. and our mortar men. It seemed that
some SS troops had infiltrated and taken them by surprise before they could get out of bed.
Schillersdorf lay slightly to the Northeast and we had to backtrack to the northeastern
road out of town, stopping at daylight for breakfast of mush and pancakes at a very small
village along the way. From there, at about 8:00 AM we walked into the forest surrounding
part of Schillersdorf. Most of us hadn't gotten over Sessenheim yet so were expecting
possible timed-fire or tree bursts. Between Schillersdorf and the woods was an open
plain covered with about 10 inches of snow, a perfect target made of anyone walking
across it. We started out of the forest but were immediately driven back by machine gun
fire. We wanted to move out immediately in the other direction because of possible artillery
fire, so Capt. Neely led C Company around to the left still further through the forest and
finally after about two hours approached the town from the West. It was rough going
through the woods as there were no trails or roads and the snow was much deeper--
apparently none of it had melted since the first snowfall. Our equipment kept catching
on the branches and spilling more snow. In several places there were huge craters made
from artillery shells and the snow was blackened around for many yards. The smell of
death was in the air--the same smell we had noticed on several other occasions. It
came from the German gunpowder used in their artillery shells.
About 10:30 AM we left the woods and started across an open field. The town lay in
a hollow and there was a slight rise between us and the town. We could only see the tops
of the roofs. Wide open spaces with only a few bare fruit trees and about 10 to 12 inches
of snow. We were supposed to set up machine guns to support the riflemen. Everyone
stayed well dispersed. A Company which had attacked at daylight was pinned down on
the northeastern slope. Except for a few GIs who had been bypassed in town, it belonged
to the Germans. It looked like a full dress movie, the attack across the open space. A wave
of men walking slowly, expecting anything. It didn't take long for it to happen. German
88 mm and mortar fire began to come in. The air crackled as the sound of exploding
shells prefaced the battle. Immediately everyone began to run toward the shelter of the
nearest buildings. Fortunately no one was hit. I ran about 50 yards--and it wasn't easy.
Carrying a tripod, all equipment, and in about one foot of snow. The shoe-paks alone made
any speed impossible. I set up the machine gun near a tree but didn't fire. It was here
that Harrington, carrying ammunition, behind me and to my left about 15 yards got hit
by a fragment from a mortar round. He called out that he was hit. Several of us ran over
to him and tried to help. l remember he kept asking for a wound tablet (a large white
pill to be taken with lots of water--I guess for shock). At any rate it was not to be taken
if hit in the stomach. We opened his pants and pulled out his shirt and undershirt along
with his woolen top. He had been hit about 4 inches below and to the right of his navel. A
little half-moon blue mark about 1/2 inch long. The heat had seared the wound shut--no
blood showed. We told him he had it made--that it was good enough to get him sent back
and called for a medic and litter. As I left him, he was very gray in the face and showed pain.
Soon we were able to run down the short slope under cover of a fence along the first
house. The riflemen to our left had already entered the street running north and south, so
we rounded the corner and ran down the street toward the first intersection to set up the
gun. Somehow in the mix-up we lost our ammunition bearers, so only had the one box of
ammo. Johnson was carrying the machine gun so we covered the intersection while
the fire fight began. By this time the Germans were throwing mortar rounds indiscriminately.
Johnson had gone to find more ammo and I suddenly discovered that I was the only one on
the street--cobblestoned with two sides made up of stone walls. One piece of shrapnel
bounced off my helmet after ricocheting off several walls. I moved the gun back with the
help of Pogrmich and Johnson into a barn near the street. We were then ordered across
the street into a large trench dug into the raised park in the center of town. It was
completely filled with snow. We wrestled the gun into position so as to fire into the
occupied part of the town across from the park. Johnson was sent to find the rest of
the squad and Dell, Pogrmich and I set up the gun. Immediately about 6 mortar rounds
landed all around us, covering us with snow and dirt, but luckily none was a direct hit on
the trench. At the street entrance of the trench was a pile of our artillery shells stacked there
for use but abandoned when the counterattack began. That was enough for us--we weren't
going to be sitting ducks, so Pogrmich ran across the street toward the shelter of the
cellar when another rain of mortar rounds landed in and around the street. Nick slipped
and fell, then scrambled head first into the cellar. Dell and I hadn't left the trench yet, but
we didn't waste much time in getting the gun and equipment across the street and into the
cellar. Later we took the gun upstairs and set it up in the window of the house from where
we could get a better line of fire if our gun was needed, but we left the shutters closed so
as not to give away our position. The man of the house was not too friendly but he finally
left. By evening our riflemen had occupied the 6 houses along the street and were bringing
up tanks to try and take the rest of the town. I slept my way through most of the fighting
that evening and except for pulling guard, stayed under cover all the time. Several houses
were burning and the glow lit up the town quite a bit. We didn't take any chances but piled
pots and pans along the window sills so that no one could sneak in without making plenty
of noise.
Jan. 26, 1945: Daylight found the town in much the same situation. We were ordered
to open up with everything we had in order to scare and confuse the enemy. So we opened
the shutters and Pogrmich burned up about 2 boxes of ammunition in the predawn barrage
of small arms that lasted for about 30 minutes. We got no return fire. The tanks attacked
house by house and gradually made their way toward the other end of town. Pogrmich
set a barn on fire with tracers. About 4:00 that afternoon the German troops that hadn't
left during the night before had surrendered or had been killed. So we moved toward the
other end of town. By this time about 1/3 of the houses were burning and even as darkness
approached, it was plenty light. The house we moved in to had mail, as well as
packages addressed to 3rd Bn. which had never been opened. I found some bacon and
ham which we fried before leaving Schillersdorf that evening after dark. Smoked hams
hanging in attics seemed to be plentiful in Schillersdorf, along with dried garlic. We were
moved back to Ingwiller and up to the 3rd floor plush apartment. Both Wolfe and
Packanowski got drunk even before we left Schillersdorf.
Jan. 27, 1945: We were up fairly early that morning. Our squad consisted of Pogrmich,
Johnson, Spurr, Byrd and myself. We wanted to look for a place with a more homey
atmosphere and less crowding. The close conditions were beginning to shorten
everyone's temper. We found immediate results in a house about 3 doors from where
we had slept, just past the intersection of Rue Rempern. The home of Frau Gammengingen
who had a daughter of 14, one of 8 and a son of 6. Her husband and an older son
were both PWs. An older daughter was married and living elsewhere. She agreed to let us
stay in a little room just off her woodshed, which had a stove, a table and some chairs.
The family seemed very friendly. We were invited inside her house to shave and wash up.
We received all our back mail and packages. Soon we had settled for the night--but,
orders came to stand guard at the edge of town, just outside of a lemon soda (soft drink)
works. It was located near the town's hospital and we were to stop all trespassing. We
slept in one end of the building and stood guard in pairs along the porch that was built on
the other end. During our second shift, we broke inside to get warm and there was the
night watchman firing up. After that, we pulled guard with the door partly open, standing
just inside. The watchman gave us a couple of cases of soft drinks. Upon leaving the
next morning after daylight, a mortar round landed about 40 yards from our jeep just
as we were loading aboard. Byrd, who was the nervous type, circled the jeep and trailer
twice before climbing aboard, and then took off like something was after him. I couldn't
place where the stray round came from. It was a dud though, because there wasn't
any explosion--it just threw snow about 50 feet in the air.

Back to index