Apparently a 20mm antitank shell had exploded in our vicinity. The concussion blew him out from under me

before the shrapnel reached me.

            Our next objective was the stone outhouse on the German side of the farmhouse. Jack propped me

against the seat of a “two-holer” and ran inside the house to see which side was in possession. I’ll never

forget the few minutes I spent alone, sitting on the floor of the outhouse overlooking the German lines. I

remember wondering why anybody would go to all the trouble of building an outhouse out of stone. With

time to reflect, however, I was strangely relieved Jack had gotten me this far and now anything seemed possible.

            Jack came running back to tell me that a medical aid man and six wounded I Company men were

in the basement. He carried me to the top of the stairs and told me that, due to the narrow stairway and our

weight differential (60-plus pounds), I would have to help him get me down the stairs. To assist us, he had

found a bottle of schnapps.

            One good belt of the schnapps enabled us to get down to the basement without too much trouble. It

was now 11:00 a.m. We had been through three lifetimes in the past four hours. We were temporarily safe.

So with that relief and the schnapps, I promptly went into shock. I slept most of the day. The medic had cut

away most of my clothes and, finding no excessive bleeding, applied sulfa powder and bandages.

            During the day, a wounded GI kept calling incoherently from outside the house. Jack wanted to go

out after him. We asked him if he could see where the man was hit. Jack said he was shot through the head.

We told him that seven of us were depending upon him to get us out and that sulfa and bandages could do

nothing for the man outside. It was obvious that Jack wasn’t convinced, but he finally had to agree to the

logic. Throughout the day, Jack kept going up the stairs and crawling to the window to look for him.

            Just after dark, Jack prepared to head back for help and the medic announced that he was going along.

Jack at first suggested that his place was with the wounded men, but the medic persisted. After further

argument, Jack told him that he would be more hindrance than help and that he didn’t have time to argue.

He then told him that if he didn’t stay, he would shoot him. Jack went alone and headed west toward

where he assumed the American lines were.

            The clouds kept the moon well hidden, which was a help since he knew he was a target for either

German or American patrols. Once he was out in the open, he could outline the American lines by the

flashes of the German artillery shells. After traveling about a mile, he noticed what appeared to be lumps

of mud on the road.  A closer check proved these to be a hastily arranged minefield, obviously left to

delay attacking German tanks. Knowing that he’d have to bring stretcher-bearers through the area, Jack

gingerly moved the mines to the side of the road. He had just reached the fork in the road near our

jumping-off point of the previous morning when a sixth sense told him to hit the ditch. Sure enough, a

shell fell on the road junction.

            He finally arrived at the company CP. Two hours had already passed. The Jumper agreed to a

rescue patrol. Just as the patrol was to leave, the battalion commander called to say that the

3d Battalion was withdrawing immediately. The Jumper told Jack that the patrol would be canceled

and all the men, including Jack, would withdraw with the company. Jack told the Jumper that he

would “catch up” with the company when he could, but that he was not leaving without the men who

were waiting at the house. A number of things were said in haste, including the word “court-martial,”

but Jack took off.