The mail arrived. In it was a letter from my future wife, the beautiful Betty. In a few words, she

described the warmth of the south Georgia beach and how attentive the Navy boys were. My morale hit a new low.

            The first thing I remember about our introduction to combat was a stray bullet flying overhead.

After two years of training, I remember thinking that someone was actually trying to kill me. Talk about a shock! 

            Our company was in battalion reserve so the Jumper told me that my platoon would lead off the

next day. The lead companies disappeared in the fog after they had gone 50 yards, but we were told to

stay in the woods. During this time, we were issued our combat spare clothes, which consisted of an

extra pair of socks. We would keep one pair inside our shirt and wear the other pair. The next day we’d

switch.  Sorry, ladies, ground combat is not for you. It’s not the danger; it’s the filth.

            At dawn the next morning, the Jumper told me to lead off since I had been “watching” things the

whole previous day. No compass bearing, no nothing. I didn’t even know from which direction the sun would

be rising. As I led the 150 men across the valley, we encountered a fast-moving stream about 25 feet wide. The weather was about 15 degrees Fahrenheit and cloudy. I decided to cross first and gauge the depth. The

maximum depth I discovered was about five feet. About two-thirds of the way across, it seemed to suddenly

get shallow. Apparently I had stepped on an underwater tree limb. One more step and I really found a

deep hole. I finally clambered out on the far bank and started searching for a shallower crossing. I

searched for about 10 minutes. (I’ve been told numerous times since then that I stopped looking too soon.)

            As I looked back across the stream, all I could see was 150 men strung out in the misty light of

dawn and I could only imagine the Germans opening fire from their positions behind me. I told the men

to come across. I apologized to each man individually as he came out of the water. There were

no complaints, no swearing, just disbelief. Each one of them looked right through me like a zombie.

They also walked like zombies when their clothes froze on them. I thought you automatically died

when you got that cold. Even the Jumper didn’t complain, although he might have walked across on

the surface of the water.

            We had no fires and walked for 10 hours up a snow-covered mountain and down the other side.

No colds or trench foot occurred from this incident, but nobody talked to me for three days. Because my

semiautomatic carbine froze up, I discarded it and picked up a discarded sniper’s rifle with a broken scope.

I wanted something non-automatic that might scare somebody. Per my schooling, lieutenants never fired a

shot in combat. I removed the scope and shouldered the weapon. (More later.)

            The time between the stream crossing and the Maisongoutte adventure passed quite quickly.

The only things noteworthy were little items which are not listed in chronological order. This was, after all,

only 11 days: