Military recollections by John
( Jack ) M. Roberts
I was living with my
parents in Hamilton, Ohio when I was drafted in the army at 18-years of age
on March 1, 1943. For basic training I was sent to the army camp at Ft.
Jackson, South Carolina and assigned to the 106th Infantry Division which
was a new division just being formed. I was assigned to
Battery "C" of the 592nd Field Artillery Battalion,
a medium howitzer battalion (155mm). I remained with this unit throughout my
basic training, advanced training and most of my combat experience in
Europe. During basic training at Ft. Jackson I was promoted to the ranks of
Private First Class and Corporal.
On January 20, 1944 the
106th Infantry Division left Ft. Jackson, SC and traveled by truck convoy to
the state of Tennessee in a desolate area southeast of Nashville, TN where
the Division went on full scale maneuvers. Maneuvers lasted for almost two
months in the coldest and wettest winter in Tennessee history. When
maneuvers ended our Division left the area by truck convoy and traveled 128
miles to
Camp Atterbury,
Indiana (near Indianapolis) arriving there on March 28, 1944 for further
advanced training in preparation for going overseas and into combat.
While at Camp Atterbury I
was only about 100-miles from Hamilton, Ohio, my home town. At every
opportunity I went home . It was in Hamilton and during these weekend visits
when I visited my parents that I began to date Mary Lou Staarmann, a girl I
knew as a co-worker when we worked for a men’s clothing store before I left
for the Army. Our Division was making preparations to go overseas. On the
last weekend that we were permitted to have visitors at the camp my mother
and father brought May Lou to visit me and on that Sunday, September 19 we
became engaged but agreed to wait until the war was over before we would be
married.
On October 8. 1944, the
106th Infantry Division left
Camp Atterbury
by train destined for Camp Miles Standish, near Boston, Massachusetts, to
prepare to sail to Europe. It took two large troop ships, the AQUITANIA and
the USSG WAKEFIELD to carry our Division overseas. On November 10, 1944 I
boarded the USSG WAKEFIELD which carried all four battalions of the Field
Artillery (589th, 590th , 591st & 592nd) along with several other smaller
units of the Division.
The WAKEFIELD encountered
very rough waters on the Atlantic Ocean at that time of year and many of the
soldiers became seasick but I did not! The USSG WAKEFIELD sailed alone
without a naval escort which was scary. The ship sailed on a zigzag course
to avoid German U-boat detection that may have been in the area to target
American troop or supply ships.
After seven days on the
water the USSG WAKEFIELD arrived safely on November 16, 1944 at its
destination and docked in Liverpool, England. At 2300 hours the 592nd Field
Artillery Battalion departed from the ship and walked to waiting
Quartermaster trucks where we were transported to Gloucester, England. It
was at Gloucester that we obtained all of our final combat equipment and for
the next two weeks prepared to enter fighting. Other units of the 106th
Division were stationed around that general area of England.
On December 1, 1944 we
mounted our vehicles in full battle gear and left our camp at Gloucester and
drove in convoy to Weymouth, England, a port of embarkation to cross the
English Channel. After an overnight’s stay, on December 2 we drove our
vehicles, with soldiers inside, into the belly of LSTs (Landing Ship Tank)
which were used to transport soldiers and equipment across the English
Channel.
On December 2 we boarded
our assigned LST and shoved off for the port at Le Harve, France. The
English Channel was so rough due to wind and rain that it was impossible for
any flat bottomed ship like an LST to remain stable under such weather
conditions. For the next three days our LSTs tossed and bobbled like a
fishing float while anchored off the coast of France. There were no bunks on
the ship and no food to amount to anything as the ship did not stock up on
food for such an ordinary short trip. In order to sleep we slept sitting
inside our assigned vehicles in the bowels of the LST and ate the emergency
rations which we kept in our back packs. Again,. many of the soldiers became
sea sick. What a way to enter combat.
After the seas finally
calmed down enough to navigate, some of the LSTs entered the port at Le
Harve, France and discharged their vehicles and men. However, the LST I was
on continued up the Seine River where we disembarked from the ship at Rouen,
France.
Upon reaching our location
the LST pointed its hull at the embankment and plunged on to the shore line.
Soon the its huge steel doors opened and our vehicles drove off the ship
using 4-wheel drive to get through the mud. Some vehicles got stuck and had
to use their winches to pull out of the mire. The 1/4-ton truck I was riding
in never got stuck so we kept right on going and continued to drive across
France. Before reaching the front lines we stopped only two times for a
night’s bivouac. What an ungodly ride that was!
These preceding paragraphs
give background information leading up to my combat experiences which began
on December 10, 1944 when our Battery "C" of the 592nd Field Artillery
Battalion arrived at its combat position in Laudesfeld, Germany. The entire
106th Infantry Division relieved the 2nd Infantry Division..... man for man
and gun for gun.
The following story tells
some of the horrors of combat and how a group of young soldiers, I was
20-years old at the time, endured the hardships of combat. What I will
iterate is only one example of what many others in our generation did in
order to give to their fellow countrymen and future generations the
privilege to continue to live in a free society.
Ambushed, Captured & Escaped
Ambushed
On December 16, 1944 at
0530 hours I woke up at the sound of massive artillery shells falling in the
vicinity of our battery position in Laudesfeld, Germany. What an eerie sound
it was. Some of us where sleeping on the second floor of an old farm house.
I immediately crawled out of my bed roll (fully clothed) and ran downstairs
to find out what was happening as others followed me. We were originally
told that this sector was quiet with very little enemy action and we should
consider ourselves fortunate.
Enemy artillery shells
where falling all around but our battery experienced no direct hits from the
barrage. The Germans used all calibers of artillery, up to and including
14-inch shells from railway guns which came crashing all along the 26-mile
front held by the 106th Division and deep into its positions. Flares of red,
green, amber and white flickered over the tree tops. Wire communications
were ripped apart. The sudden impact of shelling was a thing to fill the
heart with terror, especially for a 20-year old kids first experience of
combat.
In forests, tree bursts
showered branches and splinters and sent trunks crashing in the snow. German
screaming meemie (88 mm) shells rasped nerves already tense. By 0615 hours
the shelling had stopped. I guess our location being nestled in the valley
of the Ardennes was one of the reasons we were spared. Our light artillery
battalions, the 589th, 590th and 591st received scattered hits.
It didn’t take long before
those who had been sleeping were up and scurrying around and no one knowing
what was going on. This was another experience in the reality of battle. Our
Lieutenant had no idea what was happening nor could he find out. What we
would learn later was that the shelling that morning was the start of the
"Battle of the Bulge".
In spite of all what had
happened we had breakfast about 0700 hours and then dawn began to break to a
cloudy, damp, cold and foggy morning. The stillness was eerie. Those of us
who were scheduled to go to the Forward Observation Post (FOP) at Roth
Germany that morning began to ready our two vehicles. We loaded our bed
rolls and picked up our "K" rations since we were scheduled to be up front
for several days. When our tour of duty at the FOP ended we were to be
relieved by a different team. I had a gut feeling that all was not quite
right that morning, but could mot tell myself just why.
At about 0800 hours we
mounted our vehicles with our carbines slung over our shoulders. The lead
vehicle was a jeep and the second vehicle was a Dodge 1/4-ton truck (weapons
carrier). I was to ride in the rear seat of the jeep. Lt. Rex C. Matson, the
Forward Observer was in the front seat with PFC Larry Loudon, the jeep
driver.
The jeep, with the officer
in command, would lead the two vehicle convoy. The second vehicle, the
weapons carrier, had a 50 caliber machine gun mounted on a pedestal in the
center of the truck and just behind the front seat. No vehicles carrying
personnel while in combat were allowed to have canvas tops on them because
they hindered observation and impeded quick personnel exit, as I was soon to
find out.
The weapons carrier was
driven by PFC. Terrill Rigdon and sitting in the front seat with him was T/5
Harold Hallberg, radio operator. In the rear of the weapons carrier were
seven men, all wiremen, whose job is was to reestablish telephone
communications between the Forward Observation :Post at Roth, Germany and
the gun position at Laudesfeld since our telephone communications were
knocked out by the shelling that morning they had to start tracing the lines
from the forward outpost. One of the wiremen in the rear of the weapons
carrier was Howard Hoffmeyer, a good friend of mine and Larry Loudon, the
jeep driver.
We left our battery
position and as we pulled away I waved good-bye to my two buddies, Bill
Sewert and Carl Himberg. We then stopped at our G-2 Divisional Artillery
Headquarters to get the latest information as to what was happening. Major
Morgan, the Intelligence Officer, approached our jeep and told Lt. Matson
that the shelling in the early morning hours was normal and we should
proceed on our mission to Roth, Germany to relieve the personnel at the
Forward Observation Post. Apparently the Major didn’t know any more than we
did. Little did I realize as we pulled away that I would not see my unit
again until December 21, six days later.
The distance from
Laudesfeld to Roth was about five miles. Driving to our Forward Observation
Post at Roth on the snow covered two lane road we could see the shattered
and uprooted trees as well as the black craters made in fields of white snow
where artillery and mortar shells landed from the early barrages. Just as we
entered a clearing with no trees to obstruct our approach to Roth all hell
broke loose. German soldiers were firing at us in cross-fire using "burp"
guns, machine guns and rife fire. We were being ambushed. Bullets where
whizzing all around us and piercing our two vehicles. Both drivers slammed
on the brakes and brought their vehicles to a skidding halt.
Our jeep driver, Larry
Loudon, seated directly in front of me, was immediately hit in the right
shoulder. The soldier assigned to operate the 50caliber machine gun which
was mounted on a pedestal on the weapons carrier was killed before he could
fire a shot. Another soldier, Howard Hoffmeyer, was shot in the forehead
right between the eyes as he was seated in the rear of the weapons carrier.
The rest of us scrambled
for cover. I jumped from the rear seat of the jeep into the ditch on the
left side of the road. I think I only hit the road with one foot before
making a dive head first into a snow bank. The ambush was a complete
surprise since our field of vision was limited by the low hanging fog.
For whatever reason, the
rest of the guys chose to jump into the ditch on the right side of the road
for cover. The good Lord smiled on me that morning, because the terrain on
the left side of the road provided better cover than the right side. I could
hear the bullets whizzing over my head and see that some of them were
hitting the ground nearby. I could see enough of the top of the road without
getting my head blown off.
I heard a couple of the
guys yell on the other side of the road when they were hit with a bullet. I
yelled to Lt. Matson, even though I couldn’t see him, to tell him that my
side of the road offered better protection because of the slope of the
terrain. He then made the mad dash to my side of the road and made it
without being hit. A couple of others tried to but were hit by bullets.
I saw some movement at the
edge of the forest in front of me where the Germans were firing their
weapons. I returned their fire with my carbine emptying the magazines I had
in my ammunition belt. Anything I saw moving in the distance I shot at. It
was difficult to see but what we would learn later was the fact that the
German soldiers were dressed in white and their guns were even painted white
to blend in with the snow.
The little fire power we
had was useless next to the overwhelming fire power of the German soldiers.
When I looked at our wounded I could see the painful expression on their
faces. They were in no position to fight back. I could see the windshield
shattered in the weapons carrier and hear the vehicle’s tires being blown
out from the bullets hitting their mark. The jeep I was in rolled into the
ditch and overturned after Larry Loudon, Lt. Matson and I jumped out.
The small arms cross-fire
assault continued and our return fire also continued. Lt. Matson said that
someone should mount the weapons carrier sitting on the road and fire the
50-caliber machine gun. I told him that he was out of his mind if he thought
anyone could make it that far. It was suicide. :Lt. Matson said, "I’ll do
it!" I pleaded with him not to try it, but he did anyway. He stood up and no
more than got to the edge of the road when he was caught in a hail of gun
fire and was immediately hit in the left arm and came tumbling back into the
ditch groaning in pain.
Lt. Matson asked me what I
thought we should do and I told him that under the overwhelming odds we had
no alternative but to surrender. The guys who had made it across to my side
of the road agreed with me. The only guys who were not injured at this point
were me and T/4 Harold Hallberg. Terrill Rigdon had a flesh wound but did
not know it until later.
By this time the fog had
lifted just enough to see in the short distance the massive fire power of
the German Army. There were tanks and other armored vehicles, cannons,
soldiers, etc., all poised with their muzzles pointed in our general
direction.
Captured
Lt. Matson then gave me
the order to surrender. I reached in my pocket and pulled out a handkerchief
which was the only thing white I had and which I had used a few times. I
tied it to the tip of the barrel on my carbine and began to wave it. The
firing stopped and about twenty screaming German soldiers came rushing
toward us dressed in white and each carrying either a "burp" gun or a rifle
which were painted white. The Germans acted as if they were high on
something such as liquor or drugs or they tasted victory over the Americans.
Those of us who were able
to raise our hands did so. The severely wounded just laid on the ground.
Three of the Germans came to my side of the road and three to the other side
since all the guys did not make it to my side. Other Germans soldiers ran by
us and continued down the road toward the village of Auw. The Germans who
took us prisoners did not speak English and none of us could speak German.
The end of a gun barrel pointing at us is an international language.
The three soldiers that
came to my side of the road yelled at us and motioned for us to go to the
other side of the road. They immediately took our weapons and all of our
personal possessions including my Waltham wristwatch which I received as a
high school graduation present from my grandmother.
During the entire episode
our captors kept screaming at us in German. One of the German soldiers
started to take the dog tags from the necks of our two dead comrades and
when I hollered at him to stop one of the other German soldiers screamed at
me and stuck the barrel of his "burp gun" in my stomach. I thought I was
going to be killed. I shut up immediately but they did not remove the dog
tags.
From the time we were
ambushed until now, I would guess that about twenty minutes had elapsed. The
noise of the tanks, artillery, cannons, machine guns, etc., coming from the
forest in front of us was deafening. The German offensive through the
American front lines had begun that morning and our small party were some
its first victims and we were right in the middle of it. At least our little
group was able to hold off the Germans for a few precious minutes that
morning.
Our captors barked some
commands at us and pointed their guns toward the chatter of noise and
motioned for us to start walking toward a clump of evergreen trees at the
edge of the forest. It bothered me that we had to leave our dead lying
there. Those of us who could walk helped to carry our wounded. I assigned
myself to help Larry Loudon, although he could walk, he was losing a lot of
blood from the wound in his shoulder. I always liked Larry and I felt that
by giving him support he would be able to make it wherever our destination
might be.
This was my second
experience in the Army to witness death. On one of our night field maneuvers
at Ft. Jackson, SC one of our "C" battery trucks upset and killed a soldier.
Now it was a combat experience. Little did I realize the number of dead
soldiers (American, British, French & German) I would see within the next
few months. This combat skirmish had a dramatic effect on me. As I walked
along carrying my wounded buddy I made up my mind that the first chance I
had to get the hell out of that situation I would do it. I just couldn’t see
myself being locked up for a long period of time. I confess that I did an
awful lot of praying to the good Lord and obviously he heard me. I did not
want to be a prisoner of war.
Under guard the nine of us
trudged through the snow across the clearing and into the forest. We were
marched directly into the German’s front line command post. I saw German
soldiers, officers, various weapons and equipment such as tanks, anti-tank
vehicles and another odd looking massive piece of equipment which I learned
later to be a self-propelled armored artillery piece called a Sturmgeschutz
that looks very much like a tank. The vehicles had their engines running and
were moving further into the American front lines.
The German officers were
barking orders and looking at maps laid out on tables and hanging on trees.
The Germans were continually firing their heavy equipment at the American
positions without let up. The stench of the fuel, engine exhausts, gun
powder and the loud noise of the motors confined within the forest was both
deafening and frightening.
There was no way we could
communicate with our Battery Commander, Captain Robert W. Smith, to tell him
what was going on and what happened to us. We were among the very first to
be captured at the start of the Battle of the Bulge and were now prisoners
of war.
What I learned later was,
our captors were members of the 294th Regiment of the German 18th
Volksgrenadier Division which was part of the Sixth SS Panzer Army. Their
mission was to overrun Roth, Auw and Schonberg which were the principal
villages in the path to their ultimate goal of capturing the town of St.
Vith, Belgium, which was a vital road junction, in the first 24 hours of
their surprise attack.
Two German soldiers in
regular uniforms were assigned to march us from the German command post. We
headed, I would learn later, in a north by northwest direction crossing over
the border of Germany and into Belgium.. Walking in the deep snow was quite
slow because of our wounded comrades. In order to get us to walk faster the
German guards prodded us with their weapons and hollered at us in German and
on occasions pointed their "burp guns" as us and acted as if they were going
to shoot us. Many times during our march we had to fall to the ground
because of the artillery and/or mortar shells falling around us. We had no
way of knowing whether the shelling was from German or American guns.
After the initial shock of
what happened to our group, one’s mind begins to try to rationalize once
again and a person begins to ask himself questions for which there are no
answers, such as: Where are they taking us? Did these guards receive orders
at the Command Post to march us out in the field someplace and then kill us?
Are they taking us to a German Prisoner of War (POW) compound? If so, where
will it be? How will I be treated in a POW compound because I heard many
gruesome stories during orientation sessions in basic training about the way
captured American soldiers were treated. If I do reach a POW compound, will
I be able to escape? If so, how will I ever get out of Germany? How long
will the war last? Days? Years? All questions but no answers.
Other questions came to
mind...... Will my parents be notified as to what happened to me? If so,
when? What will my fianceé Mary Lou say or do? Will she wonder why I quit
writing letters? I thought about my brother Bob in the Navy in the South
Pacific.... what will his reaction be to the news? Will I be listed as
missing in action or as a prisoner of war? And still no answers to my self
imposed questions.
Trudging across a field
through five inches of snow is not an easy task when one’s nerves are tense
and you are trying to carry your wounded comrades. Because of their pain and
loss of blood my fellow soldiers became weaker. I continued to half carry
Larry Loudon and because of his pain and loss of blood he became almost dead
weight. I believe I had as much of Larry’s blood on my clothes as he did on
himself. Our wounded pleaded for medical attention but to no avail. I
thought to myself, except for the grace of God, I could be one of the
wounded. Knowing I was not out of danger I continued to pray as I walked
along asking for God’s intervention.
As we continued to walk we
came upon a creek at the bottom of a ravine which we had to cross. The
others made it across the frozen creek without any problem but when Larry
and I crossed together we just about reached the shoreline on the other side
when all at once both Larry and I broke through the ice. His weight,
combined with mine, caused the ice to break. Ice water immediately rushed
inside our combat boots. My feet were already cold and now my feet and legs
were soaking wet. With ice water in your boots trudging through snow in the
wintertime is extremely uncomfortable and demoralizing under such
circumstances. This accident did not help my mental. outlook. Our hands and
arms were also wet from picking ourselves up out of the water. Our German
captors just stood and laughed at us.
Since the German guards
took my watch I had no way of telling what time it was. The dark gray skies
with no sun light left no clue as to the time of day nor the direction we
were walking. I could only assume that it was in the early afternoon. And
just about that time we found ourselves being marched up a slope across an
open field from the ravine where we fell through the ice. We were now headed
toward a small village in the distance. I could see that the village
contained several farm houses and barns. By this time we had walked and
carried our wounded what seemed to be a couple of miles since being
captured.
The Escape
As our group neared the
village, a narrow lane opened up between two hedge rows. The German soldiers
marched us ahead of them and into the lane. I was in the lead still carrying
Larry Loudon and my fellow 592 FA Bn. "C" Battery comrades were right behind
me. As we rounded a small bend in the lane I saw at the far end that it dead
ended at a road that led into the village. I would learn later that the
village was named Weckerath.
Just as our group rounded
the bend I happened to look ahead to see an American tank crossing at the
end of the lane. The turret gunner on top of the tank looked down the hedge
row and saw us coming. I hollered to the guys behind me, "Hit the dirt!" We
all dove for the ground and that gave the turret gunner a clear view of our
German guards. The Germans, not understanding English, had no idea as to
what I said and just stood there. By the time the turret gunner pointed his
machine gun down the lane toward the Germans for a line of fire, the tank
driver, being down inside the tank and unaware of our plight, continued
driving past the intersection.
To our good fortune an
American Sergeant with a sub-machine gun was walking behind the tank and saw
what had just happened. At that same time the German guards saw the
Sergeant, turned and began running down the hedgerow with the Sergeant in
pursuit. We heard shots but I have no idea as to what happened but I have
confidence the Sergeant did his job. We pulled ourselves up off the ground
and began to walk towards the road to follow the path of the tank into the
village.
Just before we reached the
end of the lane a barrage of shells, either German or American, fell on the
village and quite close to us and we all dove for protection at the first
thing we saw. Several of us dove for what we thought was a pile of snow next
to a barn. It turned out to be a large pile of cow manure covered with snow.
Fortunately most of the manure was frozen so when we pulled ourselves away
from the pile we didn’t have much manure clinging to our clothes.
We continued walking and
followed the road into the village where the tank had traveled. After
several yards we ran into a Cavalry Captain. He pulled us inside a building.
The captain wanted to know how we got there and was concerned about our
wounded. He asked me if I was wounded and I told him I was alright as all
the blood on me was from carrying my buddy. We quickly told him what
happened to us during the past few hours. He told us to stay with his unit
but warned us that the Germans had the village surrounded and we had no real
avenue of escape.
We learned that we had
stumbled across Troop "C" of the 14th Cavalry Group. The Captain told us
that he only had a few men left as many of the cavalrymen had been either
killed or captured. You can imagine how we felt about this dilemma. Free of
our captors, but not yet free at all. We were again faced with the
possibility of being killed or captured if the Germans stormed the village.
The Captain also told us that if we remained there much longer we would be
blown to pieces as the artillery had zeroed in on the village. He said our
only chance of survival was to make a break and try to get out of there.
Daylight was growing short
and dusk would be settling upon us before long and none of us were very keen
about being in a village that was surrounded and being shelled throughout
the night. We would surely be captured if not killed. In the meantime the
sparsely manned "C" Group of the 14th Cavalry Group was returning the
enemy’s fire. The wounded needed immediate medical attention. The Captain
made his decision to escape the village immediately.
That time of the year in
Germany, the first twinge of light began at 0645 hours followed by sunrise
at 0730 hours, if there was a sunrise. The start of twilight began around
1640 hours and darkness began to fall about 1713 hours. The Captain told the
three of us that he was limited with the number of weapons he had. He gave
Hallberg an .45 caliber pistol and a rifle to Rigdon. He told me that all he
had to offer me were some hand grenades. I shoved four of them into my
pockets. All of this was happening in a matter of a few precious minutes. He
ordered all driveable vehicles to assemble in the center of the village and
then sent word to his men defending the village to mount the trucks for a
quick exit. Our mission at this point was to make a run for the next village
which I learned later that it was the village of Manderfeld and located
across the border in Belgium. In Manderfeld was a First Aid Station. One can
imagine the pain and agony of our wounded who had been shot some seven or
eight hours earlier that day and because of their loss of blood they were in
a very weakened condition. In Weckerath their were also wounded cavalrymen
in similar condition.
The Captain was a cool
commander. He barked orders but not out of fear but rather out of
confidence. We all trusted his leadership. He said that we would vacate the
village in two waves. The first wave would consist of the seriously wounded
in the armored vehicles and the others who were not as seriously wounded
along with those of us who were not wounded would leave immediately after in
the second wave in the remaining vehicles.
We helped load the wounded
in their assigned vehicles. Their escape would be lead by the tank down the
same road where our group followed the tank earlier. It was felt that the
first wave rushing out of the village would surprise the Germans and with
the fire power of the armored vehicles would help the group make their
escape. Under full power the first wave left and as soon as they broke into
the open area we could hear the small arms fire of the Germans firing on the
convoy. Now it was time for the rest of us to mount up in the remaining
vehicles for our attempted escape. As we were about to mount our vehicle I
could see buildings, telephone poles, trees, barns, etc. burning from
receiving direct artillery hits. I knew we had to get out of there fast.
Hallberg, Rigdon and I were
told to ride in the back of a GMC 2-1/2 ton truck with a couple of the 14th
Cavalry guys. There is not much protection from bullets on a 2 1/2 ton
truck. The floor of the truck and about two feet up from the floor on the
sides, is constructed of a thin layer of steel. The upper sides are made of
wood slats. The Captain would ride in a jeep with a driver and followed us
by being the last vehicle out of Weckerath.
Those of us in the back of
the GMC truck laid flat on the steel bed. Shells continued dropping in. When
it was our turn to move out our driver put the truck in all gears in rapid
succession and down the icy snow covered road we went through the village,
"hell bent for election". When we got to the point were the open area was at
the end of the village we too came under German small arms crossfire where
they opened up on us. As I laid on the steel bed of the truck I could see
the splinters flying off the wood slats just above my head where the bullets
were hitting. The truck was bouncing like crazy and my steel helmet was
bouncing even worse on the steel truck bed during that fast and furious one
mile ride to Manderfeld..
The road was nothing more
than a one lane farm road covered with snow and ice. The only thing I could
think of at the time was, if our driver gets hit and loses control of his
truck we may flip over and all of us will be killed or surely injured. Also,
if he doesn’t get hit and the Germans bullets blow out the tires, at that
rate of speed the same thing will happen. I also, thought if we roll over
and I get thrown out, a pin could come out of one of the hand grenades in my
pockets and blow me up. Even if I survived such a wreck, I would again be
captured by the Germans. And I prayed that none of this would happen.... and
the good Lord heard me.
We made it through the
gauntlet to Manderfeld. At least the truck I was in did. When I climbed out
of the truck it was dusk. I asked Rigdon and Hallberg if they were all right
and they said that they were. I then looked at the truck we were riding in
and the number of bullet holes in it made it took like Swiss cheese. I told
the driver that he did "one hell of a great job" and thanked him for saving
our lives. Once again I escaped being killed, wounded or captured by the
Germans. I hurriedly looked for the Cavalry Captain but could not locate him
anywhere. I never learned whether the other vehicles in the second wave made
the gauntlet or not.
The three of us immediately
went to the First Aid station to look for Larry Loudon, Lt. Matson and the
others. We did a fast search but could not find any of them among the other
injured soldiers spread throughout the First Aid building. As I was standing
near a doorway of one of the rooms a stretcher was carried by me with a
soldier laying on his back with glassy looking eyes. He looked at me and
grabbed my hand as he passed by and mumbled something I did not understand.
He seemed to be delirious and perhaps in shell shock. I will never forget
the look on his face.
At this point the three of
us had no leadership except ourselves. Manderfeld was a repeat performance
of Weckerath because we soon learned that the Germans were not closing in on
the village. We were again about to be trapped. Hallberg and Rigdon asked
me, "What are we going to do?" I said that I was leaving because I wasn’t
about to get captured again and I was willing to take my chances. They
wanted to know where I was going and I pointed toward what I thought was the
American Lines and said "That way!"
Not knowing which direction
was west and in order to head toward the American lines, I told Hallberg and
Rigdon that I would try to get a compass and they could come with me if they
wanted to or they could stay with the Cavalry group.. They said they would
stay with me.
I then walked over to a
Cavalry Officer and told him what happed to us and we wanted to get back to
our unit but needed a compass. I asked him if he had one that "I could
borrow!" Fortunately he had one and gave it to me. He smiled and said, "Good
luck, soldier"!
The elapsed time now put us
in darkness. The time must have been somewhere around 1730 hours. I checked
the compass for the direction of west and knew that the American lines where
over there somewhere. Under overcast skies with no moon that night and no
sun the next day, the only thing we could possibly relay on would be the use
of a compass.
We left the protection of
the village and began to walk knowing that Manderfeld was being surrounded.
The possibility of being killed or captured again was very real. We had
several options, either we could have remained in the village of Manderfeld
where we could have been wounded, killed or captured. Another option would
have been to try again to escape with one of the Cavalry units running a
gauntlet and the other option was to take our own chances. I liked the
option where I could be in control of my own destiny. As we walked very
slowly and quietly westward through the snow I then became aware that my
feet were totally numb from the ice water that entered my combat boots when
I fell in the creek that morning.
We crouched low, whispered
when necessary but mostly creeped in dead silence for fear of being seen or
heard by the enemy soldiers. I kept a constant check on the compass so we
would not veer off our course. We knew we were in German occupied territory
and also knew that we had to eventually catch up to the German front lines
and cross over into the American front lines without being captured by the
Germans or possibly killed by either side as we entered the American front
lines. We were also concerned about land mines that may have been planted
earlier by the Germans in their retreat several months earlier and could be
covered with snow. We felt sure that the Germans had advanced westward far
beyond our location but how far and how we will manage to get through the
German front lines was all rather mysterious and frightening.
That first night the three
of us were cold, hungry, nervous, confused, wet and tired, but we kept
walking. We knew we had to keep walking carefully over as much ground as we
could . We followed tree lines, hedge rows, crossed open fields but always
headed for the low lying areas to keep from being detected. The weather was
cold that night and the wind was especially penetrating. The sky was black
but with the white snow on the ground gave us the necessary light for us to
see just where we were walking and where we were headed.
During the night the sky
lit up periodically with colored flares, mostly amber. If they were anywhere
near us, we just laid low until the flares burned themselves out. Then we
would push on again. We kept a sharp eye and ear for enemy troop movement.
Occasionally we would see
troop movement and mechanized equipment not too far away and we would lie
low until we were reasonably sure it was safe to move on again. We knew that
if we could see them against the white snow background, they could also see
us.
Shells screamed over our
heads and fell throughout the night. None fell that close to cause us to
dive for cover. However, the deafening noise of the "screaming meemies" and
other artillery (cannons, mortars, etc.) kept us alert. During the night we
got our first sight of the German V-1 and V-2 rockets (buzz bombs). Although
I read about the rockets, it was frightening because I had never heard or
seen one before. The noise of one of those rockets was deafening. The roar
of its jet engine left a white fire trail behind it as it soared upward and
then disappeared behind the low hanging clouds headed toward a target behind
the American lines. When the engine cut out then shortly after that you
heard the explosion of the rocket on impact. We also saw German searchlights
in the distance. First they bounced off the low hanging clouds and then they
were directed toward the battle lines.
I don’t know how far we
traveled that night but progress was quite slow and we kept heading west. We
had no map and no watch. Time and direction meant nothing to us at this
point. This entire day, December 16, 1944 had to be the worst day of my
entire life, but also was the most fortunate day of my life. In less than 24
hours we were ambushed in crossfire, captured, taken prisoner, shelled,
escaped, shelled, surrounded, shelled, escaped through crossfire, surrounded
again, and escaped again. We were now cold, wet, hungry, tired, nervous....
but also very much alive and most thankful to God for that!
Sometime during the wee
hours of the morning on December 17, a fine rain started and then turned to
sleet. Then the fog began to get thicker. Just before dawn broke we came
upon a small village that could offer us some protection from the elements
and to give us a chance to rest. We found a barn that had a hay mow. We
climbed the ladder into the loft to hide and get a little rest and a chance
to get out of the cold. The hay offered some warmth. I would learn later
that the village was named Eimerescheid.
Over thirty hours had
passed without sleep and we weren’t even sleepy. It is amazing as to what
nerves can do for the body. We were hungry but food did not even sound good
at the moment. All we wanted to do was to get the "hell out of there" and
get back to our artillery battery.
While resting in the barn,
a German patrol passed by and looked inside, but fortunately kept right on
going. Another clue that we were still in German territory. After our short
rest we decided to push on and take our chances because we knew that the
longer we stayed in hiding, the more ground we would have to cover to get
back to the American side since the German army was advancing westward.
While inside the barn we
discovered that Rigdon was wounded and didn’t know it. He complained of his
neck hurting. I looked at his neck and could see a burned red streak along
the side of his neck. A closer look revealed that his uniform shirt and coat
was torn. Hallberg and I could then see where a bullet had grazed his neck
when going though his clothes. Apparently it was the same bullet that put a
hole in the drivers side of the windshield of the weapons carrier that
Rigdon was driving. This discovery now verified that Hallberg and I were the
only two out of the group of eleven who were ambushed on the morning of
Decvember16 were neither wounded or killed.
For the next several days
our progress was slow but deliberate. Our travels took us past destroyed
American vehicles and equipment as well as Germans. We also passed dead
German and American soldiers who were now frozen. On the second day I had
picked up a Thompson sub-machine gun from an American Sergeant that had been
killed. I also took extra clips of ammunition from the Sergeants ammunition
belt. In addition to my hand grenades I had in my pockets, I felt much
better with some kind of weapons for self protection in case we ran into a
German patrol and had to fight it out.
The further the three of us
traveled west the increased number of dead soldiers and destroyed weapons
and vehicles we saw. What a horrible way to die. Grotesque forms, the white
snow was red with human blood and in some cases littered with body parts.
Many of the dead still had their eyes open. I thought to myself, "My God,
what can they possibly want to see, even after death!" There was no way
either the German army or the American army had time to pick up the dead.
The ravages of war during the offensive was one of survival for both sides.
The dead would have to be picked up later. Fortunately the cold weather
would preserve the bodies. Later I would see where they had been picked up,
tagged, and stacked on trucks like cord wood to be taken to their final
resting place.
Throughout each night we
continued to hear the artillery and see the V-2 rockets traveling overhead.
The yellow white and red flares also continued throughout the night. With
still no sleep we were quite weary but felt that we might just be getting
closer to the American front lines. One can tell by the sound of the
exchange of gunfire as to its location. Just before dawn a yellowish flare
came floating down about 50 yards in front of us. There to our delight we
could see activity and what looked like might be an American tank in the
glimmer of the light. As soon as the fare went out we decided that we must
make a break for the tank, but we had to be careful and make sure the tank
was American. Also, we needed to be cautious so the American soldiers would
not mistake us for German soldiers in the dim light and shoot us because it
was a well known fact that English speaking Germans during the early days of
the German counter-offensive would infiltrate the American lines and add
confusion and sabotage behind the front lines. The three of us led a charmed
life so far, so why take any unnecessary chances now.
Hallberg, Ridgon and I
maneuvered ourselves into the American lines without being detected and were
able to mingle with the American soldiers and sought out a Sergeant. We told
him who were and what happened to us and he referred us to his Lieutenant
where we told him we escaped being prisoners and wanted to know where our
the 592nd FA was located. He had no idea but did give us water and something
to eat. We kept going from one unit to another hitching rides with whoever
would give us a ride and catching forty-winks whenever we could. No one had
any idea were the 592nd FA Bn was, let alone where Battery "C" was located.
Perhaps it is hard to
understand how three American soldiers can infiltrate through the German
front lines and into the American front lines without being killed, wounded,
detected or captured. As I look back now, it is even hard for me to
understand how we did it. The only explanation I can attribute to our
success is the fact that the good Lord gave us the ability to remain
reasonably calm, use rationality and remember our army training which helped
us use good judgment in making the proper decisions about where to go and
what to do. We took no unnecessary chances and we certainly did not try to
be heroes. We just wanted to survive and get back alive!
Finally on December 21,
after three days of darting around the American front lines we were finally
able to find our battery (592/C). It was about noon when we walked into the
gun position. The first person we rant into was our Battery Commander,
Captain Robert W. Smith. I rarely ever saw him smile, but when he saw us he
grinned from ear to ear and welcomed us back. Up until that moment he
thought we were either killed, wounded or captured since it was reported to
that on December 16 his Forward Observer party had been ambushed on its way
to Roth.
The first thing he asked me
was if I was wounded. I explained that the blood on me belonged to Larry
Loudon. We then briefly told him of our ordeal during the past five days and
explained what happened to the other guys in the party after we were
ambushed. It didn’t take me long to find my barracks bag and put on two
pairs of dry socks. My feet were frost bitten but I refused to go to the
First Aid station for medical care.
Since my Section Head was
captured the morning of December 16 at the Forward Observation post in Roth,
Captain Smith gave me his job as "Chief of Detail" and promoted me to Staff
Sergeant. Being short two officers since that same date, one was injured at
the battery position and the other officer was captured when the Germans
overran the Forward Observation post in Roth, Captain Smith told me that I
would be an "acting officer" and in that capacity I would have full
responsibilities as an officer but without the title. I functioned in this
capacity until replacements were received after the Battle of the Bulge
ended. I remained with 592/C until the 106th Infantry Division was pulled
out of combat on March 16, 1945.
Additional Information about
My Military Duty Assignment
The 106th Infantry
Division suffered some 8,000 casualties out of a potential of 11,000 men.
Casualties are defined as those killed in action, wounded or captured. Most
of the casualties occurred during the time period of December 16, 1944 to
January 25, 1945 which is considered as the Battle of the Bulge time frame.
I went through combat totally unscathed except for a case of trench-foot due
to wet combat boots.
The information in this
document describes my days overseas. To offer a brief summary as to what
happened to me after March 16, 1945, on April 1, 1945 I was transferred to
"A" Battery, 589th (105mm light howitzer) Field Artillery Battalion in grade
as a S/Sgt to help reorganized the Division so we could return to battle.
The 589th was battered very badly by the Germans and lost a lot of men who
were wounded, killed or captured.
While a member of "A"
Battery, 589the Field Artillery Battalion I received a battlefield
commission as a 2nd Lieutenant. My appointment to S/Sgt by Captain Smith and
the assignment he gave me as an acting officer led to this appointment as an
officer. I was still a 20-year old kid not quite dry behind the ears yet but
savvy when it came to combat and artillery. The promotion to 2nd Lieutenant
was awarded to me based on my combat experiences as a Corporal, Staff
Sergeant and an acting officer while with both the 592nd and 589th artillery
battalions.
A Few Personal Items About The
Writer
As of this writing I
have been writing my autobiography since 1987. I am currently writing
Chapter 81 which is all about the year 1991. So far I have typewritten
written 2,332 pages and my writings are in the basement of my home sitting
on the shelves in three library book cases which contain 44 volumes.
A volume is a 3-ring
binder, 2-inches thick, 11 1/2-inches X 11-inches. Between the pages of the
written text are items that substantiate many of my writings, such as,
newspaper clippings, letters, photographs, small token mementos, war
souvenirs, report cards from both grade school and high school, senior prom
dance card, etc.. These are the kinds of things that will be interesting to
my grandchildren to read when they get older.
The autobiography has
turned out to be a family history. After the war I married Mary Lou
Staarmann, the girl I became engaged to at Camp Atterbury. We had two sons
and now have 5 grandchildren.. I worked for General Motors Corporation for
38-years. I began my career with GM in my hometown of Hamilton, Ohio soon
after I returned home from the army in August 1946. I remained in the
Inactive Reserves as an artillery officer until April 1, 1953 when I
received my honorable discharge.
I was in the personnel
business while with the General Motors Corporation throughout my entire
career. After several promotions at the plant in Hamilton, Ohio, twenty-one
years later I was transferred to Marion, Indiana as the plant’s Personnel
Director the same capacity as the job I had in Hamilton, Ohio. After
thirteen months I was then promoted to the General Administrator of Salaried
Personnel for one of GM’s largest Divisions with 32 plants across the United
States and transferred to the Division’s General Offices in Warren, Michigan
(north of Detroit, Michigan) where I moved my family for the second time. I
was again promoted to Director of Personnel Services for the same Division
of GM and finally retired on November 1, 1986 with 40 years of service.
An Ironic Incident That
Happened Following My Combat Experience
I had returned to
Europe in September 1994 with members of the 106th Infantry Division
Association to find the spot where I was ambushed and captured but I was
unable to find the spot. However, with the help of Belgian civilians I was
able visit the villages of Weckerath and Manderfeld where I broke through
the Germans who had the villages surrounded. Ever since then I have
continued to correspond with my Belgian friends on a regular basis by letter
and e-mail.
On May 8, 1999 I left for
Europe and returned to the Ardennes Forrest the site of the Battle of the
Bulge, with members of the 106th Infantry Division Association but not on a
tour. We traveled together but were on our own for ten days. I rented a car
and stayed in a small hotel in Prum, Germany. Many of the 106th veterans
stayed in different hotels in the small towns in the Ardennes area. Three of
the 9 days that I was with that group were spent in meetings with German WW
II veterans of the Battle of the Bulge. These meetings were very
interesting. The other days I was on my own to do the things I wanted to do
which included visiting my Belgian friends.
While in Germany, on May 18
I was able to visit the exact spot where I was ambushed and captured. My
confidence in finding the location was based on a weird incident that
happened a couple of years ago. On this visit to that spot I was accompanied
by Hans Wijers who is a historian on the Battle of the Bulge and lives in
THE NETHERLANDS. I became acquainted with Hans shortly after he visited the
German War Archives in Koblenz, Germany and found a picture of an American
disabled weapons carrier sitting in a ditch that had markings on its
bumpers. He sent the picture to John Kline, Editor of THE CUB magazine for
the 106th Infantry Division Association. Mr. Kline then placed the
unidentified weapons carrier photograph in the OCT-NOV-DEC 1996 issue of THE
CUB magazine asking if any member of the Association could identify the
vehicle
I always read THE CUB from
cover to cover and when I came to page 12 of that issue and saw the disabled
weapons carrier with the markings 592 on the left rear bumper and C-5 on the
right rear bumper . I immediately identified it as the vehicle following the
jeep I was riding in on the morning of December 16, 1944 when we were
ambushed. I then wrote a letter to John Kline and told him my story. He was
so excited with my explanation that he called me at home and asked my
permission to publish my entire letter in THE CUB magazine in the next
edition of the magazine which was the JAN-FEB-MAR 1997 issue of THE CUB. My
letter continues to appear in his Website on the Internet at
http://www.mm.com/user/jpk
After reading that letter
the reader will understand how thrilled I was when I saw that picture. What
soldier is able to be in possession of a picture of where he was ambushed
during combat that was taken by the "enemy" just a few hours after the
incident? This is a very strange thing to happen!
I tell this story about
Hans because since the picture of the weapons carrier appeared in THE CUB I
have been in communication with Hans by e-mail and telephone. After Hans
read my letter about the ambush he called me from The Netherlands and asked
for more detailed information about the AMBUSH. I then sent him those
chapters from my autobiography which are essentially the same as the
paragraphs which appear above but in more detail.
In April 1997 Hans returned
to the AMBUSH site with the detailed information I sent to him along with
the German photographer’s picture of the disabled weapons carrier. Using my
detailed writings and the weapons carrier picture, he claims he found the
exact spot of the AMBUSH. Something that I was unable to do. He took color
photographs of the spot and sent them to me which included pictures of
bullets still imbedded in the trees.. After looking at the photographs I
really did believe he found the exact spot of the AMBUSH.
Hans advised me that if I
should ever return to Germany he wanted to take me to the spot of the
AMBUSH. When the opportunity came to return to the Ardennes with the other
members of the 106th Division Association I jumped at the chance. I then
told Hans that I planned to be in Germany between May 9 and May 19 and asked
him if he might be able to meet me one of those days so he and I can travel
on the road between Auw and Roth so he can show me the spot. We agreed on
the date of May 18.
On that date Hans Wijers
came to my hotel and took me to the site. I was truly amazed to see the site
once again. He was right on target. I could tell after 55 years, even though
the road was widened and the ditches filled in, the terrain where we were
ambushed remained the same. It was a thrilling but very emotional episode in
my life. I thank Hans Wijers for helping me to maintain a goal I set 55
years ago and now has come to a reality.
My autobiography is full of
many stories but this story is so ironic that it bears high visibility. |
