SESSENHEIM—AFTERMATH

The “empty” town of Sessenheim was truly empty on January 18. However, it had filled with German

paratroops, infantry, and artillery that night in preparation for an attack. This I found out from a German

while I was stationed at a war criminals internment center in Garmisch after the war. Scholars of

World War II state that this was to be the start of the second “Bulge”—Operation Nordwind.

            For six months, we did not know the fate of the men who reached Sessenheim, but expected the

worst. One day just prior to the end of the war, we heard that John Feldman, a member of the

First Platoon had walked away from a German prisoner work detail and kept walking until he reached

American lines. John announced that, to his knowledge, everyone reaching Sessenheim had been captured

without loss of life.

            The conversations at our Company L, 411th Infantry reunions, held every two years, constantly

return to what happened at Sessenheim and why. The “why,” although not obvious at the time, is that our

aborted attack bought about three days’ time. This allowed an orderly withdrawal and reorganization of

the American defenses.

           
            Gus Kyle, one of the squad leaders in my platoon, was the only man to get in and out of Sessenheim

on the 19th. Gus received a Silver Star for knocking out an “88” with a bazooka before he left town. After

Gus returned to the American lines, he read the riot act to the entire battalion staff. After receiving his

Silver Star, he was transferred to the 45th Division in less than 24 hours. Gus was killed in Korea,

as a second lieutenant, and received the Soldier’s Medal and then the

Congressional Medal of Honor posthumously.

            As was true of most of us, Jack Scannell had his problems becoming adjusted to civilian life.

After four years of trying to settle down, he finally married a wonderful girl named Norma in 1950.

Jack and Norma are now the parents of 12 fine children and are living in Allen Park, Michigan.

            Jack and I had not discussed Sessenheim in detail in the intervening years. There seemed so little

that I could say, though he has always known how I felt.

            About 20 years ago, I called Jack in Detroit. We finally got around to discussing “that day.”

In the course of the conversation, he asked me how many men had been removed from the house. I said,

“Seven, including the man who was shot through the head. He died on the stretcher next to me on the

hospital floor.” He said, “My God! That’s been bothering me for 26 years! I thought I’d left that man out there.”

            In 1988, I “volunteered” to host the L Company reunion in Wilmington, Delaware. The reunion was

advertised in most of the “service” magazines. I received a call from a Bucky Moreland from New Jersey.

After a long discussion about the L Company reunion, he mentioned that he was from C Company of the

First Battalion. After further discussion, he mentioned that he had been wounded on January 20, 1945

while carrying a stretcher containing a wounded lieutenant. I said, “Do you know who was on that stretcher?”

He said, “No.” I said, “Me.”