A Different Kind of Christmas Near Grandmenil, Belgium December 25, 1944 Just after midnight...

Twenty year old Private Daniel R. "Bob" Shine squatted in a roadside ditch in kneedeep icy water, clutching his M-1 rifle; there was nowhere to go. Moments before, he'd been advancing eastward with his rifle Company in near total blackness. From around a bend in the dirt road had come three tanks. As the tanks got closer, the G.I.'s had realized that they were facing German Tigers. The soldiers on the right had climbed an embankment and sought cover behind rocks and trees; for those on the left, the only available cover was a drainage ditch covered with ice. As they jumped into the ditch, the ice broke, soaking them. Closer and closer came the Tigers. Just as the lead tank had almost reached Shine, one of the G.I.'s on the embankment panicked and began firing his rifle at it. The tank came to a sudden stop just an arm's length from Shine; the turret began to traverse toward the slope as the tank started to fire its cannon and rake the American positions with machine gun fire. Shine looked around; there was nowhere to escape to. He could only continue to squat in the muddy water and hope for deliverance--or a quick end. The combined noise of the tank's engine, cannon and machine guns was almost deafening; in the distance he began to hear the screaming of the wounded infantrymen. In moments, the column of tanks began to advance again. What now? Would there be German infantry following? Shine thought of the previous Christmas he had spent at home with his family in Connecticut, and suddenly felt lonely and forsaken; would this be a slaughter? To his young eyes, the situation appeared hopeless. Their landing in Europe hadn't been a dramatic one; Item Company, 289th Infantry had come to France on a troop ship, and docked at Le Havre. Their division, the 75th, was one of

many that had been hastily formed for the final big push the Allies would make into Germany. The weeks that had followed their landing had been filled with long, monotonous autumn days, bivouacked in a muddy French meadow. Then, on Christmas eve, without warning they had been loaded onto roofless semitrailers. Packed too close to do anything but stand, the infantrymen had watched in amazement as their trucks roared eastward for four hours through the cold night, down the narrow dirt roads of France and then Belgium. No one had told them what to expect; they had no idea of the massive German penetration of the Allied lines that was taking place. German tanks and infantry had, in a surprise attack, created a huge "bulge" in the American lines in the Belgian forest known as the Ardennes. The Battle of the Bulge had not even been named yet; but it was to be a widespread and bloody conflict, as Nazi Germany fanatically attempted a last breakthrough and the Allies fought desperately to hold onto their positions. Shine estimated that they were speeding along the dirt road at about sixty miles per hour. Other vehicles on the road tried to make way for the convoy of trucks which were traveling through the darkness without the aid of headlights. If another vehicle failed to clear a wide enough path, it was smashed out of the way by the semis, which never even slowed down. The realization began to grow within Shine that something was seriously wrong wherever they were headed, and that they would be expected to help make it right. The Allied generals had ordered the 75th to move up and relieve the 3rd Armored division. Outside of Grandmenil, the men of Item Company disembarked from their trucks and set out on foot toward the village. As they advanced, they were met by elements of the 3rd, who were retiring from the field. "What's up this road?" "Nothing. All clear!" Item Company moved forward, reassured. They advanced in

two files, one along each shoulder of the road. Down the center of the road came the 3rd, who were pulling back to regroup. Shine's company passed troops moving toward the rear on foot, along with a number of Sherman Tanks, jeeps and halftracks. Some time after the last of the 3rd had passed through them, they saw three more tanks approaching, and hadn't recognized them as the enemy until it was too late. It was almost 0100 hours, and Shine continued to crouch in the ditch. The Tiger had stopped firing now, and had begun to move toward their rear. When the Tiger was about 100 yards away, an American bazooka team fired one round into its radiator, disabling the tank. The other two tank crews, seeing the flash and the disabled tank blocking the road, turned and made for the safety of their own lines. The threat eliminated, Item Company re-formed on the dirt road and continued their march on Grandmenil. Shine's boots and wool trousers were now soaked, and would remain so for many days.

The tank (actually a Panther V) destroyed by Corporal Weigand of King Company, following Item Company up the dirt road. The corporal was killed in action in the fighting at Grandmenil. (Click on images to enlarge) Throughout the early morning hours, the infantrymen marched up the snowy dirt road, through the forests of the Ardennes, and onward toward Grandmenil. Shine and his squad led the advance, marching warily forward with their rifles poised and ready for instant action. With the moon and starlight obscured by the heavy overcast, it would be nearly impossible to spot a dug-in enemy until they were almost on top of him. Such were their fears as they emerged from the sheltering woods and entered the fields surrounding Grandmenil.

The M-1 "Garand" rifles the infantrymen carried were a familiar burden on these marches. They weighed almost ten pounds, and quickly sapped the strength in the soldiers' arms. But the G.I.s loved their M-1s for their awesome firepower and deadly accuracy. The M-1's 30-'06 cartridges could propel a copper-jacketed slug through a tree and drop an enemy soldier hiding behind it, if such was necessary. To be among a rifle company firing M-1s in battle was truly a deafening experience. At dawn on Christmas day, Item Company waited at the edge of Grandmenil, a village so small that it could be crossed by foot in less than five minutes--unless, of course the village was filled with waiting German soldiers--and it was. The task of liberating the village had fallen upon the Americans' young shoulders. As the soldiers waited for the order to attack, the Germans began an artillery barrage of their positions. Item Company was to attack the village with the support of Sherman tanks. Two of Shine's friends huddled behind one of the tanks, seeking shelter from the German small arms fire that had just begun. As Shine watched, a shell landed and exploded near to the two and flung their bodies against the tank. They were killed instantly; there were almost no visible wounds, but the concussion from the explosion left the two dead Americans looking like lumps of bread dough thrown and flattened against a wall. The Americans commenced their attack. The Sherman tanks advanced up the village streets first, firing their cannons point-blank into the occupied houses of Grandmenil. Then the riflemen followed. First they threw hand grenades into the houses; immediately after the explosions, they sprayed the insides of the houses with rifle fire, and then entered. Shine and another young soldier entered one house. Inside the house, a dazed German reached for his gun. There was no time to ask him to surrender; the soldier with Shine quickly raised his Colt automatic pistol and fired. The .45 caliber bullet hit the German soldier squarely in the forehead, and the top of his head was blown completely off.

The Germans fought desperately; the Americans were forced to take Grandmenil one house at a time. As Christmas day progressed, many young Americans and Germans made the ultimate sacrifice for their countries. At day's end, Item Company had driven the Germans from Grandmenil, and had dug their foxholes in a defensive line along the edge of town. Twenty four hours earlier, none of them had ever seen battle; now they were veterans. Christmas night would be another cold, cloudy night with temperatures below twenty degrees. The winter of 1944-45 would be remembered as the coldest winter in forty years, and the men of the 75th spent most of it outside, with frozen feet. As he settled down for his first sleep in two days, Shine became aware again of his feet, which were painfully cold. Funny, but he hadn't noticed them all day. Behind him, Grandmenil's ruins smouldered and burned. Shine thought of his grandmother's hometown of Zell, in Germany's Moselle valley fifty miles to their east. He couldn't help but wonder if he had been fighting against any of his German cousins that day, or if he would face them on some future day. They couldn't use their sleeping bags that night--"Purple Heart Bags" they were called. If the Germans counterattacked during the night, the Americans could be bayoneted in their bags before they could free themselves and reach for their weapons. So Shine and the rest of Item Company lay in the frozen earth, with their frozen feet and shivered themselves into a fitful sleep. A sleep filled with thoughts of those whom they had killed, and those friends who would never be going home; friends who now lay frozen on the snowy ground of Grandmenil. And meanwhile, back at home, choirs were singing of Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men. America! Christmas! As he drifted off to sleep, Shine wondered if he would ever see home again; indeed he wondered if he would live to see another Christmas.

Frozen Hell Near Salmchateau, Belgium 1500 hours January 14, 1945 A young soldier cautiously approached Item Company's line of snowy foxholes as the afternoon sky began to darken. To the men nearby he looked like a rookie; he was clearly timid about entering this place of death and destruction. His uniform was still almost spotless. No doubt he'd been eating hot "C" rations and sleeping under cover right up until now. They observed him casually. A battle veteran could usually tell whether a new man would crack under fire, just by looking at him, and you didn't want a guy to crack up while he was sharing your foxhole. This particular guy had a baby face, and probably hadn't even started to shave yet. He couldn't be more than eighteen. The occasional German mortar shell that fell nearby made him jump. >From his foxhole, Sergeant Gilbert spoke to the new private and pointed to an open spot in the line of foxholes. The replacement turned and made his way to the appointed spot. He leaned his M-1 up against a tree, and took out his entrenching tool. In moments, he was chipping at the frozen surface of the Belgian soil. Over the next twenty minutes, the sounds of chopping and digging filled the air. Twice as he dug, the replacement slipped and almost fell into his unfinished foxhole. The men watched silently as he glanced around and tried to regain his dignity. Finally, his hole complete, the replacement grabbed his rifle, climbed in, and took his position on the line. No doubt he was trying to figure out what would happen next. He probably never heard the fluttering sound of the approaching mortar shell, but the men around him did, and they ducked deeper into their foxholes. An abrupt explosion shook the ground and threw bits of something through the air; there were the sudden smells of burned cordite and singed flesh. The soldiers looked in horror at the foxhole of the new replacement. Smoke billowed out of it,

and pieces of bloody flesh were everywhere. Tattered bits of his uniform and a length of intestine hung from broken tree branches above the burned foxhole, and next to the tree lay a boot with part of a leg still in it. That was it, thought Private Daniel R. "Bob" Shine as he sat in his foxhole watching the day turn into night. One minute you're alive and all in one piece; the next minute you're gone and nobody has even had the time to find out who you were. And God knows where your dog tags were blown to... Although he and the other men had seen this kind of thing happen before, nobody ever really got used to it. Night fell, and it began to snow, masking the frozen pieces of what had once been a man. In the early morning hours Item Company assembled for their attack of Salmchateau. Today they would be facing elements of the 326th Volksgrenadiers and remnants of the 62nd Volksgrenadiers. Shine was the bodyguard to Lieutenant Rocco Durante. He and the lieutenant led their platoon through the snowy predawn darkness and the day's first light. As it became fully light, they left the forest and followed a dirt road into the village. This was usually the moment when things began to happen, and as the second man in the advancing column, Shine was frightened. As was often said, "Any man who wasn't frightened at these moments would have to be insane". They had almost reached a bridge leading into town, when there was a sharp "crack" to their right front, and the lieutenant went down. Shine, following him about three paces back, rolled Durante over and saw a bullet hole cutting the lieutenant's belt loop just to the right of the belt buckle. As he took the lieutenant's pants down, he saw the point of the bullet just breaking the skin near the lieutenant's groin. Evidently the bullet had ricocheted off of a bone. To remain stationary in a spot such as this was to invite disaster. Shine and the others moved forward, and left the lieutenant for the medical corpsmen who would be following. To the foot soldier of WWII, nothing was more reassuring than the feel of an M-1 rifle in his

hands. It promised power and accuracy at the squeeze of a trigger. It also promised to be a heavy burden on a long march. The M-1 rifle weighed almost ten pounds--about twice the weight of an M-1 carbine. In the infantry, enlisted men carried the rifles and officers carried the carbines. Behind Shine, Private Krizan eyed the M-1 carbine dropped by the lieutenant. Like most riflemen, his arms ached from carrying the heavy rifle; here was something more attractive. He picked up the carbine and resumed his advance. That was the last mistake he ever made. There was another sharp "crack" from the high ground on their right, and Krizan went down and rolled over on his back. Shine looked back at Krizan; he lay there with a neat little bullet hole right between his glazed eyes. Beneath his head, a crimson stain began to spread in the white snow. The sniper, seeing a carbine in Krizan's grip had mistaken him for an officer, and killed him. About this time Shine figured his number was coming up. He ran and caught up with the squad as they prepared to clear the first house on their side of the street. Private "Snuffy" Toth went into the front door, fragmentation grenade in hand with pin pulled, threw the grenade and turned to get out. As he turned, he slipped on the ceramic tile floor and fell. Before he could get up the grenade exploded. Snuffy staggered out the door and went down again. He was badly shaken up, and the squad left him behind for the medics as they advanced through the town from house to house, clearing them as they went. Most of the Germans had fled. There was no further sniper fire, but still some incoming artillery and a few pockets of resistance from the houses. Late in the evening, they found three or four Germans holed up in a cellar at the far edge of town. One of them made a menacing move and the three Americans facing them fired at once. The result was devastating. Item Company spearheaded the attack on Salmchateau and won the town, thus meeting their

objective. Their ranks had been thinned that day by deaths, wounds and frostbite cases. Snuffy Toth was finished as a front line soldier; the explosion of his grenade had left him shell-shocked. He was eventually evacuated. Lieutenant Durante was also evacuated, and they didn't see him again. Shine's squad spent the night billeted in the stucco and stone houses of Salmchateau, while outside, the dead of both armies froze into grotesque positions. And as the dead and the living slept, once again it began to snow...

Bloody Ridge Salmchateau, Belgium January 16, 1945 Private Daniel R. "Bob" Shine stared up at the snow-covered ridge in disbelief. This would surely be the end for him. The lieutenant's words rang in his ears, "When we charge the ridge, you three run straight for that big foxhole and knock it out." Sheltered within the high foxhole were three German soldiers firing Schmeisser machine pistols down at the Americans. As the rifle company's first wave advanced up that ridge, it would fall upon these three young G.I.'s to eliminate that particular threat. The three Germans seemed to have every advantage: they were elevated, they had adequate cover, and they all had rapid firing weapons. Shine could hear the Schmeissers distinctly now. They fired so fast that it sounded like cloth tearing. To charge straight toward that foxhole seemed practically suicidal. Shine thought of his parents and his girl, Muriel back at home; how he wished he could see them all just one more time. Well, things at home would just have to go on without him, he guessed. Shine took a moment to say a prayer for his survival in this assault. If he was to be hit, he hoped that the wound would be enough to send him home. If it was his fate to die on this day, he hoped

the end would be quick and clean, and not a lingering death like so many he had seen. He couldn't help but wonder if God was listening to American or German prayers this day. Before they had attacked the village of Salmchateau, the soldiers in Shine's squad had traded in their M-1 rifles for M-3 "grease gun" submachineguns which were useful for houseto-house fighting. The grease gun was capable of putting a lot of lead in the air, which was also good in times like this. Shine hated the grease guns however, because they had a deadly design flaw. The magazine release stuck out in a bad spot where the soldier often bumped it against his body, dropping the ammunition magazine on the ground at his feet. This left the G.I. with an empty gun, usually at the worst possible moment. Like right now. At the signal, the three riflemen, along with the rest of the first wave were up and running at top speed, dodging left and right to evade enemy fire. Spaced just six feet apart, they made excellent targets for the Germans above them. Up the steeply sloping ridge ran the three, consumed by the noise and fury of war, and firing their weapons in short bursts as they ran. To the left and right, running soldiers suddenly fell, turning the snow bright red beneath them. At any moment, Shine expected to feel the sting of a bullet hitting him. By the time the Americans had reached the foxhole, all three Germans had been hit. They lay in the snow, writhing and bleeding from ugly wounds, and making the strange noises that dying men make. A wounded German, however, could still shoot you in the back as you passed him. So, the three Americans, themselves miraculously unhit, finished the Germans off and continued their charge. On either side of them, other surviving members of the first wave advanced, some firing, some falling, as they closed in on their objective. The Germans were driven from the ridge above Salmchateau that day, but the cost was dear. Many of Shine's friends in the company were killed, and many more were wounded. They'd all watched helplessly as their sergeant, Roberts had bled to death after receiving a shrapnel wound in the back. The medical corpsmen and the riflemen in Roberts' squad had tried to

reach him, but were pinned down under heavy fire. So Roberts had died, alone in the bloody snow. They dug in on the ridge for another frozen night in the field. Salmchateau and "Bloody Ridge" as it would become known, were now in American hands. Shine crouched in his foxhole and peered off through the darkness toward where the enemy must be. Somehow today, his number hadn't come up. The three Germans in that foxhole had been very young and inexperienced "Volkssturm" troopers, and not combat-hardened veterans. This stroke of luck alone had saved the three Americans, and had cost the three young Germans their lives. But what of tomorrow, and the next day? Today he'd lost his sergeant. Yesterday, they'd evacuated his lieutenant, Durante to a rear area hospital after he was shot in the hip by a sniper. Just how long would Shine's own luck hold? There were--and there would be--no medals for the three Americans who charged that foxhole; today had simply been business as usual. Nor would there be elation, nor remorse; just the weary realization that they'd survived another day, and were one day closer to the end of the war. As the blackness of sleep met the blackness of the Belgian winter night, Shine, filthy, hungry, exhausted and frozen, prayed for his luck to hold just a little bit longer--and for the war to end before that luck ran out. ...decades have passed since those terrible months when we endured the mud of Lorraine, the bitter cold of the Ardennes, the dank cellars of Saarlutern . . . We were miserable and cold and exhausted most of the time, we were all scared to death . . . But we were young and strong then, possessed of the marvelous resilience of youth, and for all the misery and fear and the hating every moment of it, the war was a great, if always terrifying adventure. Not a man among us would want to go through it again, but we are all proud of having been so severely tested and found adequate. The only regret is for those of our friends who never returned.

Bronze Star Appenwihr, France February 1, 1945 As the screaming artillery shells fell and exploded around them, a dozen GIs sprinted for the safety of the distant woods and their own lines. The deep snow sucked at their feet and caused them to slip as the bursting shells showered them with clods of frozen dirt. The German artillery seemed sure to annihilate them at any moment. Private Daniel R. "Bob" Shine felt as though his lungs would burst. As radioman for the reconnaisance squad, he carried all of his normal fighting equipment, plus their SCR300 shortwave radio, which was housed in a large backpack. In all, he was running with more than seventy pounds of equipment strapped to his body. Shine felt as if he couldn't run another step, but run he did. Run or be blown to bits in this open field outside the village of Appenwihr. BOOM! One shell fell much closer than the rest, landing less than forty feet away. A running GI stumbled and fell. When he got back onto his feet, it was clear that the force of the explosion had rattled his head. The woods were getting closer now, but so were the explosions. Would they make it in time? The Allied Forces had fought and won the Battle of the Bulge. It had taken them over a month to retake the ground they had lost to the Germans in those few days before Christmas, 1944. For the front line infantrymen, it had been a month of stark terror. Every soldier had vivid memories of comrades who had been killed in the effort. Memories of those who had died stoically, and those who had given up their lives in fits of terror while calling for their mothers and their God to save them. No matter what their rank or how they had died, death had brought them together as equals now, lying silent and numb beneath the fields of Belgium. At the close of the Bulge, the survivors from the 75th Division had been loaded onto railroad boxcars. These were called "40 and 8s"--French boxcars left over from WWI. On the sides of

the cars were signs saying in French, "40 men, 8 horses." The 40 and 8s were unventilated and unheated and they had no sanitary accomodations. But the GIs didn't care, for it was rumored that they were to be taken from the battle line and sent to the rear area for a much needed rest. This was not to be. The steam locomotives had pulled the long troop trains south for two miserable days, and the infantrymen had then disembarked in eastern France, where the foothills of the Alps come together with the Vosges Mountains. There, the Germans had chosen to stand and fight in a corner of France known as the Colmar Pocket. In the closing months of the war, Hitler had bolstered his shrinking armies by the use of 15 year old boys and 45 year old men as his Volkssturm troopers. They were generally not as effective as seasoned combat soldiers, and often surrendered or got themselves killed needlessly. The Germans in the Colmar Pocket however were regular army, members of the 305th Volksgrenadiers and the Wermacht's 198th Division. They were hardened veterans and well equipped. And they were still able to make the Americans pay dearly for every town they captured. As the Americans had disembarked from the trains the realization hit them that they were merely trading one snow-covered battlefield for another. The previously hopeful mood of the troops quickly became somber and fearful. Nonetheless, they'd immediately taken the towns of Holzwihr and Bishwihr, and in a coordinated attack, they'd captured the heavily defended town of Andolsheim. Still, there were more towns to be taken, and still the American infantry fought with wet and frozen feet. And through the long nights, they continued to sleep in foxholes hacked from the snowy ground. Near-starvation was as life threatening as enemy fire at times. Recently, the GIs had been forced to steal their food in order to eat. It was a real challenge in the face of all this adversity to keep fighting an honorable fight and not become the animal that one's circumstances might dictate.

Before dawn the next morning, the Americans received the order to attack Appenwihr. Thankfully, their advance was preceeded by an artillery bombardment. Then the tanks moved in ahead of the foot soldiers, who carefully walked in the tracks of the tanks to avoid any waiting land mines. Shine's squad was one of those chosen to lead the attack, and Shine, who was the lieutenant's bodyguard, was close to the very front of the action as the infantrymen headed out across the open field. "Infantry," he thought to himself. Literally, "the children." That was exactly what Shine felt they resembled as they moved forward. Small, seemingly defenseless, yet hurling themselves relentlessly against a powerful, dug-in enemy. He could picture their advance as seen from a distance, tiny soldiers dwarfed by the forests and the surrounding mountains. Enemy fire was intensifying; they were getting close now . . . CLANG! Shine's head was suddenly wrenched to one side, and he fell, not knowing whether he was alive, dead or dying. An intense ringing had begun in his ears, and suddenly his head and neck ached. Reaching up, he ran his fingers over his steel helmet, searching for the cause of his pain. On the left side, just above his ear, was the smooth entrance hole made by a bullet. Just above his other ear was the jagged exit hole of the same bullet. Through the pain and the dazedness of just having rerouted an enemy slug, Shine realized that he had once again been incredibly lucky. The bullet had traveled between his helmet and liner and exited the helmet without ever touching him. Before the GIs' attack of Appenwihr, the artillery supporting the German troops had been destroyed by American howitzers, directed in their efforts by brave artillery spotters flying single seater Piper Cubs. Without artillery support, the Germans were forced to retreat. But it was a slow, grudging, organized retreat, and in no way a rout. The Americans would continue to pay a high price for their real estate aquisitions.

At dusk Shine's platoon had dug a line of foxholes just outside of Appenwihr. The Germans had been pushed back to the next village, Hettenschlag. Midnight. Another night, another town, another frozen foxhole. In this, the heart of the night, a man could be so terribly alone. Alone with the ghosts of those he had killed as they sought to kill him. Alone with memories of his home, his family, and above all, his girl. He smiled as he thought of Muriel in her white nurse's uniform, and contrasted it with his own uniform, which stank of sweat and mud and worse. He smiled again as he thought of his last shower, which was weeks ago. Hot water. And soap. How good it had felt! Their uniforms had been far beyond cleaning, so they were issued new wool trousers and tunics. Now those clothes too bore the stains of food and mud and gun oil. Shine couldn't sleep. His stomach churned with the diarrhea that was plaguing most of the men. He thought of the taking of Andolsheim a few days before. During the fighting, his friend Joe Feeney had run up to him yelling, "Your coat's on fire!" There directly above his heart, a large piece of shrapnel had come to rest. Still hot from the explosion that had freed it, the steel shard had caused a smoldering in his overcoat before Shine had even noticed it. How was it that he had been spared from death or terrible injury so many times and in so many ways? In the darkness, he removed his boots and wet socks and began to rub his feet as the GIs were instructed to do to prevent frostbite. Like every front line soldier, dead or alive, Shine had his second pair of socks hanging around his neck to dry. He removed them from his neck and put them and his wet boots back on. The wet socks were then hung around his neck, and the process continued. The army's leaky leather boots ensured perpetually wet feet for everyone, and Shine's feet had been bright red for weeks. Everyone knew that waterproof, insulated shoepacks were plentiful in the rear areas. Someday, maybe they'd be delivered to the guys who needed them the most. The numbers of frostbite evacuations and amputations had become epidemic. In the frozen darkness, his mind whirled. He thought back to the night they'd spent

billeted in a Belgian barn. They'd slept on a bed of hay that night; the barn was warmed by the bodies of the cows kept within it. One of the dogfaces had rolled over carelessly during the night and had set off one of his fragmentation grenades; luckily, he was the only one killed by it. In his mind's eye, the face of Captain Applegate passed before him. Good old Captain Applegate, Commanding Officer of Company K. Shine, in Company I looked up to and respected Applegate, as did all the soldiers who knew him. Just that day, Shine had seen Applegate's jeep and driver parked in the rear area. "How's Applegate doing?" The driver gave him a funny look and jerked a thumb at the small G.I. blanket folded up in the back of the jeep. Wrapped in that blanket was all that remained of the captain, who was blasted into eternity that day by some distant German cannon. And Shine thought of that backpack radio of his. That damned SCR-300 that attracted the attention of snipers everywhere. Snipers. He thought of the team of snipers that had briefly halted their attack of Appenwihr that day, until a bazooka team had blown up the church steeple in which they were sheltered. Shine had rejected repeated invitations to become a noncom, so they'd placed him alongside of the lieutenant, at the head of every charge, it seemed. And, he noticed, he was losing a lieutenant a month; this was not a healthy spot to be in. A choice target, that's what he had become. At last Shine drifted off to sleep, haunted by the tormented image of himself in the crosshairs of a sniper's telescopic sights. As the 75th completed the liberating of the villages surrounding Colmar, the French 1st Army took Colmar itself. Subsequently the combined American and French forces joined up in pushing the Germans back across the Rhine and on into Germany itself. From then on, the German would no longer fight on foreign soil; now he would fight for home and fatherland. No doubt this would strengthen his resolve, and he and his comrades could be expected to fight like demons from hell. The men of the 75th prepared to board trucks taking them onward to some distant and unknown

battlefield. All roads led to Berlin it seemed, and one of those roads would be theirs. The trucks would take them to a railroad siding where they would board troop trains headed north to the Netherlands. February 9 was to be the 75th's last day in the Colmar Pocket. It was, by coincidence, the beginning of the warm spell that the GIs had been praying for. At last, their wet feet would be safe from the dreaded frostbite. As they prepared to depart for their next battle, several trucks suddenly roared up and were unloaded. The GIs stared, dumbfounded. At last they had what they no longer needed--the insulated, waterproof shoepacks! For his months of service as the bodyguard to his platoon leader, and for his faithfulness to duty and for the extreme risks taken in combat, Shine earned a citation and later the Bronze Star for valor. In all, he served under four lieutenants. During that time three of them were killed or wounded. Donald Wallace's account of the Battle of the Bulge Donald Wallace: On the morning of December 16th there was a barrage that went on for the longest time. It lighted the horizon over the trees and,since nothing could be heard overhead in the way of passing artillery, we didn't think that it could be ours. It was weird. We were billeted in and around a big house serving as 3rd Battalion Headquarters up the rise from Bucholz Station where L Company was. (394th Infantry, 99th Division) Sometime during the couple of hours (it seemed about that long) that followed I tried to start a fire smolderng embers of a fire from the night before with a can of gasoline taken from a nearby jeep. (Stupid thing to do) A flame crept up the spout and, spilling the fuel, my hand and arm caught fire. I rolled over it to douse the flames. Blisters formed all over my left hand (I was a southpaw) and in order to be able top fire my carbine, I had to bite open the blisters. I left the line from Elsenborn Ridge on January 4th with sebsequent blood poisoning. I remember (in a hospital in Liege) telling the nurses that I didn' feel right about being so muddy and dirty and being put in a bed with clean sheets. (I know that that sounds stupid,but these things stand out.) During the daylight hours of the 16th of December I had to carry messages from the large house down the road to Bucholz Station to L Company (Did I neglect to say that I was a company runner?) It seems as though it must have been about 500-600 yards. There was rifle fire and sometimes a single artillery shell would be lobbed in as a psychological ploy. On one of my trips to the station, I was within 15 or 20 feet of going beneath the railroad overpass at the station, and one of these exploded on the overpass. The concussion tore my helmet off and knocked me to the ground. A close call and I thought about how lucky I was. Sometime during the day of the 16th there was quite an artillery barrage layed on L Company and the Btn Headquarters. We had

dug slit trenches, but ran into a box car (It was low to the ground without its wheels.) just because that "felt" better. The barrage lasted awhile and no shell ever hit the box car, but the noise was shattering and continuous. It was also very scarry when I realized that I should be in a foxhole. Afterward we examined the box car and noted that shrapnel had torn through the thing, sll along its side down to less than two feet above ground level. Again I felt lucky. During the night we pulled back into the forest. Word came down the German paratroopers in GI uniforms were infiltering the area, and I delivered the message that everyone was to remain perfectly still and that they should shoot anything that moved. A short time later I was told to deliver a change of password. I said, "but they'll shoot at me!" (It was my turn and the message had to be delivered.) The forest was so dark and so very quiet. Every step I took I thought, "God, I hope I don't step on a twig!" (The snap, you know.) I was scared. Suddenly I heard, "Halt!" I recognized the voice and I remember my response to this day. It was,"Don't shoot! It's me, Wallace!" The guys all knew me. We had been together since Fannin. I delivered the change of password and felt lucky again. Carl Heintze's account of the battle of the Huertgen Forest Carl Heintze: "I entered the Huertgen Forest on Oct. 13 (a Friday, as it turned out) as a replacement rifleman in Company L, 39th Infantry Battalion, 9th Infantry Division. I was a sergeant, 21, having finished three years of college before being drafted into the army.The day before I arrived the company had been ambused near Germeter and there were only two platoons left, of four. Only one officer remained. We were taken to the front and lodged overnight in the basement of an old house, being shelled most of the time. There were 29 of us. By the time the war ended all but two had been wounded or killed. Next day six of us went down to plug a hole in the line. Two were immediately wounded. That night we were withdrawn and reorganzed into a new company with 80 new replacements and then additional men. We went back up to Schmidt and stayed for a week in a kind of trench and then the whole division was withdrawn and reorganzied. After various other battles, including the Battle of the Bulge, we went back to Schmidt in February and eventually into the Rhineland. In the meantime I had been wounded Jan. 1, 1945, was in the hospital for a month and was then sent back to the front where I stayed until the war ended in May. I can't possibly convey what the forest was like, except to say it was the epitome of war: dark, forboding, wet, muddy, gloomy and terrible. Anyone who was there never forgot it, but not many people remember it. Otherwise it was a pretty "normal" infantry kind of war for me, scared, dirty and tired and cold most of the time, glad to have been a part of it, glad when it was over. The Huertgen Forest, however, was unforgettable."

Standing in the shade of a tree, among the mortal remains of other great men is the headstone belonging to one Lemuel M. Herbert, a Sgt. in the American Army. His journey to this final hallowed resting place has been a long time in coming. Born in 1910 in Lackawanna County in Pennsylvania Lemuel Herbert grew up among the miners and hard working townspeople of his community. He went to Grammar school and no doubt worked hard. When war came to Europe he answered the call of his heart and enlisted in April 1941. He joined the Pennsylvanian unit that had won honours in another war, the 28th Infantry Division. When the 28th came across the Atlantic to Wales Herbert met relations. Then he went overseas. On 3rd November 1944, men of 1st Batt. 112th Infantry Regt ventured into the forest, they are to support the attack on Kommerscheidt/Schmidt. The 112th Infantry Regiment, was part of the US 28th Infantry Division. As the men crossed the ravine shells fell ahead of them on Kommerscheidt. There were few Germans in Kommerscheidt that November day when Sgt. Lemuel Herbert 33023842 and his comrades arrived. Those that were there put up little resistance. The Americans went on the Schmidt, a larger village beyond the hamlet. The German Army had always been known for not giving ground easily, and would always counterattack at the earliest possibility. They did so the following day. Shellfire and infantry

forced the Americans out of Schmidt towards Kommerscheidt. The combat during the following days cost them ground and men too. The Germans pursued them out of Kommerscheidt. As men fell back they passed foxholes with their comrades crouched in, firing at the enemy infantry and tanks, covering the withdrawal. Survivors reached the tree line at the northern end of the Kall trail and crouched among the trees, digging foxholes in the hard, stony earth. By the 8 November Kommerscheidt had fallen to the German again. Bravery alone could not influence the outcome. The Americans were inadequately supplied and too few in number to retake Schmidt. The main supply route for the attack also the route for supplies, the Kall trail was too fragile and prone to attack by the Germans. The Americans held out until they were forced to retreat back through the trees to the Kall river and up the other side to Vossenack. Behind them, in the fields before Kommerscheidt, the houses and gardens around the hamlet itself lay men of 112th who would not share in the final celebrations of peace a mere six months later. During "after battle interviews" two men from Herbert's squad reported that they had seen him hit in the head and fall. (Subsequent examination has concluded that he was killed as a result of shell splinters to the head). He was therefore initially listed as MIA, this was subsequently changed to KIA. Lemuel M. Herbert had fought his last action for the men of the "Keystone" Division, but he had yet to be brought home and given the respect he had so dearly earned. During March 1998, as a highlight to a strategic war game being held in Germany for members of the 28th Infantry Division the Divisional commander Maj. Gen. Walter Pudlowski used the final two days in Europe as an opportunity to revisit the battlefields fought over by past soldiers of the "Keystone" Division. Among the places the tour went to was the Kall Trail.

As the group walked through the area they met Herbert Trumm, (above right) an elderly forest worker, he had grown up in the area during the war and proceeded to lead the soldiers as their impromptu guide.

Herr Trumm led them to the spot where earlier in the year a GI's remains had been found, among them an ID disc. Above, Major General Pudlowski and fellow officers of 28th Infantry Division ponder the circumstances of a fellow soldiers death so far from home.

Above: Herberts helmet held by General Pudlowski while another officer examines the remains of his M1 rifle. The helmet holed by the shell splinters that killed him. At right, the farmer on whose land Herbert had lain undiscovered. 6 March 1999 Lemuel M. Herbert was finally laid to rest in Arlington National Cemetery, with full military honours. A native of Scranton, Pennsylvania now among good company, home from the war. Maj. Gen. Pudlowski sums up with these words; "Seldom will you find a place where you can see where you were, where you are, and where you are going. We have just seen that place"

Robert Cahows' Story

The eldest of 8 brothers from a farming community, Robert Cahow was originally drafted earlier in WW2. He'd been an MP, guarding POW's in America. He volunteered for frontline duty, as he wanted to serve his country in a more active manner. Being 6 foot 7 inches tall Robert stood out from his comrades in the 311th Infantry Regiment, 78th Infantry Division. Cahow and his comrades were soon drawn into the fighting for the Hrtgen forest. The Germans called it "Die Totenfabrik" or Death Factory, with good reason. On December 13th 1944 Company K was assigned to execute a diversionary assault on bunker 111 in the forest. Many of the soldiers in Company K were new to combat. Anti-personnel mines and enemy fire killed and wounded many. The day was drawing to an end as several survivors of King Company were "volunteered" for the unenviable duty of reentering the forest in search of wounded from the days assault on the bunker. One of the volunteers was Robert Cahow, the others were Heber Mizell and Wilbur Peddicord.

For our dramatic recreation of those long passed events I am indebted to the members of the Belgian Living History group "35thInfantryDivisionBelgium" for their assistance in helping to bring to life the events of December 13th 1944. Harvey Jorgensen, the only man left alive to recount the events recalls; "The three men, Cahow, Mizell and Peddicord reluctantly trudged into the area of Bunker 111. They were well aware of the dangers, the mines and booby traps, but theirs was a recovery mission. They walked on".

Robert Cahow was a BAR gunner, our volunteer above is wearing the same equipment as Robert was at the time. The only discrepancy being that Robert was also carrying an M8 knife in an M3 scabbard. (Eagle eyed visitors will notice that our man above is carrying an M6 leather scabbard). He had grenades for personal protection as well as his trusty Browning Automatic Rifle, which would be an advantage in laying down a base of fire should the need arise.

Above: There is a nervous look back to the relative safety of the foxholes that the men had departed as they venture into the woods around Oschenkopf. The two riflemen are each armed with an M1 Garand, one carries an extra bandolier of 30 calibre ammunition, the other a blanket to aid wrapping a wounded comrade in.

These men were all relatively new to life in the line, although Mizell and Peddicord did not know Cahow well, other than by his stature Harvey Jorgensen was well acquainted with him, the two men having been at Camp Pickett, USA together. They had also gone on leave together. However, on this mission Jorgensen had stayed behind, Cahow had to rely on strangers now. Jorgensen continues, "As they ventured further towards the presumed location Bunker 111 there were was an explosion, followed almost at once by a second. There was a cry of great pain and then silence. As to why Mizell and Peddicord left Robert at that time can only be conjecture, but perhaps the

thought of more booby traps, or the creeping fear that the Germans were so very near made them retreat at once".

Above: Heber Mizell* and Wilbur Peddicord** rush from the forest, leaving behind them Robert Cahow. The resulting fire from the alarmed Germans threw the survivors back. The confusion that followed meant that Jorgensen and his comrades couldn't locate Cahow. No one was to know, until his recovery 57 years later that Robert Cahow had been fatally injured by the blast (massive fractures, to his left foot, leg, hip and torso). Later the Germans found and buried Robert near the bunker that had been his units objective earlier that fateful day. Roberts' younger brother Douglas was just 12. He recalled the day that he and his two young brothers were playing in the barn. They saw a car approaching the farm and hid. They knew what the car meant, they had two elder brothers serving overseas. This car was delivering the message that all families dreaded. Their Father came to tell them the news. As the years rolled by the Cahow family did not forget their eldest son and brother. Their other brother William came home from the

war with a leg wound. (He'd been in the 628th Tank Destroyer Battalion and fought right up the May '45). In April 2000 German engineers were clearing the forest area around Vossenack prior to returning it to farmland. As they did so they began to unearth war debris. Also they found human remains. These were found to be of an American soldier, nearby two German soldiers were also recovered. Below, the helmet of one of the Germans, who had fallen near to Robert.

The Americans ID disks appeared to read Robert Cahow, but research and examination of the disks and the physical size of the remains implied this was a giant of a man, 6 feet 7 inches tall.

There were numerous traces of that long past battle in the woods. From left; Robert Cahows Army boots, a piece of German barbed wire and pieces of jagged shrapnel. Lastly the dog tags of Robert and his younger brother Douglas. Doug is a veteran of the Korean war. "Greater love hath no man, that he lays down his life for his friends"

Photo above, October 12th 2009 on what would have been Robert Cahows 93rd birthday: Taken at the actual spot where Robert Cahow fell. It has now become a place of pilgrimage, not only for those interested in the battle, but for those relatives, both German and American, who find some solace and perhaps hope in what this simple memorial stands for. Cahow is but one of many soldiers who fell in these woods, in the last winter of the last war. Where ever he now marches, could it be that Cahow leads a column of fellow "missing" men back towards the families and the final resting place that they all deserve? On December 13th 1944 soldiers of the USA 78th Infantry Division went into action in the Hrtgenwald. They were known as the "Lightning" Division on account of their lightning bolt shoulder patch. The Division was made up of the 309th, 310th and 311th Infantry Regiments. In the 311th was a Pfc Robert Cahow, his Army number was 36206366 and he had originally joined the Army in Wisconsin. The units target was Schmidt, the elusive objective for the 28th Infantry Division during the fighting in November 1944. Pfc Cahow was in action against elements of the 272nd Volksgrenadier Division. This unit had been in action several weeks and was in theory supposed to be preparing for the Wach am Rhein offensive. In the fighting that followed Pfc Cahow was listed as MIA. The Ardennes offensive opened on December 16th 1944 and the fighting in the Hrtgen forest was sidelined by events further south in the Ardennes. The Interment service is recounted here by Cpt. Laura Kenney of the present day Lightning Division. The chill sound of "Taps" wafted over the cemetery as 78th Division WWII veteran PFC Robert T. Cahow, listed as Missing in Action for fifty-six years, was finally laid to rest. The bugle was played by Cahow's nephew and namesake, PFC Robert Cahow, Wisconsin National Guard, during the internment ceremony that fittingly took place during the Memorial Day weekend. Even more appropriately, Cahow was accompanied to his grave by a contingent of 78th Division soldiers from the same unit he fought and died with, so many years ago. These young soldiers of today's 3/311th Regiment stepped proudly, and felt the honour keenly, as they escorted and carried the casket of their fallen comrade to its final resting place. The six soldiers: SFC Tony Mitchell, SFC Sean Lucas, SFC Franklin Fayson, SSG Alphonso Hilton, SGT Robert

Copeland, SGT Micheal Guyette, were led by CSM Joseph Robertson. Col. John McLean, 78th Division Historian, who had been instrumental in identifying Cahow as a 78th Division veteran served as the Officer in Charge of the funeral detail. The ceremony took place in Cahow's home town of Clear Lake, Wisonsin, population 942. At least two/thirds of that population attended the service. Numerous 78th Division WWII veterans, also attended in order to honour their fallen comrade. One such veteran, CW4 William Elwood, sought and received permission from the Association to fly to Hawaii - where the Army's forensic laboratory for identifying remains is located and serve as the 78th Division Association official honor guard to escort Cahow's remains home. Elwood did so at his own expense, he said "Robert deserved it....he fought and died for our country....I was lucky, I just fought, and in gratitude for his sacrifice, I felt I had to make that journey." The five surviving Cahow brothers, who had never rested in their fifty-six year- long-attempt to find out what had happened to their brother, were finally able to say goodbye properly, and lay him to rest near a beautiful memorial to all the veterans from Clear Lake who had made the ultimate sacrifice. The memorial had been built entirely with funds generated by the small town, and the youngest of the brothers, Douglas, had been the primary mover in its inception and raising. Of the seven brothers, five served either in WWII or Korea. The church service was run largely by the Cahow family. Nieces of the fallen Cahow sang "How Great Thou Art," one of them, SPC Lynda Porter of the Minnesota National Guard, singing in full dress greens. Brother Adam told the story of how Robert had died in the cold, dark vicious battle of the Hurtgen Forest. Nephew Scott and another niece named Linda read the 1945 obituary. Brother Douglas recounted the last time he saw his brother, whose 6'7" frame and genial nature had him known to all as a "gentle giant," saying, "He came home on leave before departing to fight in Germany, a mission for which he'd volunteered, despite having a comparatively safe assignment stateside guarding Prisoners of War. He helped Dad in the field, and I can still in my mind's eye see that tall frame stooping to pick corn and lay it in the wagon drawn by our horses." Cahow's remains, in an open

casket at the front of the packed church, were wrapped in an Army blanket, and his dress green uniform, complete with the 78th Division Lightning patch, Combat Infantry Badge, Bronze Star Medal with "V" device, Purple Heart, and other medals he had earned, lay atop. A black and white photograph of him in all his youthful glory and height, serving as a Military Policeman, stood on the top of the gleaming wooden casket. The Stars and Stripes adorned the bottom half, and at the end of the service, the 78th Division honor guard tenderly closed the coffin, draping the bright colors fully along its length. With solemn dignity and pride, they carried it from the church, down a long gauntlet of color bearers standing at proud attention, which included many local and state Veteran of Foreign Wars and American Legion units. The hearse was followed to the cemetery by hundreds of cars. The graveside ceremony was opened by a family friend, Daniel Ponath, member of a local American Legion unit, who played the heartbreakingly beautiful trumpet solo "The Lord's Prayer," with tenderness and skill. A gentle, fine mist of rain appropriately set the mood for the service, but did not mask the genuine tears on many onlookers' faces. Town dignitaries spoke against a backdrop of the Nation's flags, all, from Old Glory down through the service flags to the POW/MIA flag, at half-staff. At the end of the spoken memorials, the 78th Division contingent respectfully and crisply folded the colors resting on the casket, and presented them to McLean, who wheeled sharply, and with precision, marching to the first in line of the Cahow brothers. Douglas, in his VFW hat, with tears unashamedly tracing his cheeks, accepted the flag that had draped his brother's coffin. Each brother in turn was presented with a folded flag in wooden case. Then a three-volley gun salute by representatives of Ft. Leonard Wood, Missouri. The five brothers, Douglas, Adam, William, Harold, and Raymond stood, bareheaded in the rain, holding their flags, as Robert's casket was lowered into the dark, moist earth.

Above: The memorial to Robert Cahow that was unveiled in 2001 as it is today (October 2009). It was only chance that he was found. A German ordnance recovery team having detected the live grenades that he had been carrying. We understand that two German soldiers found nearby have also been identified and given proper burials in the nearby war cemetery. This part of the forest saw much action during the fighting of October thru December 1944. Nearby another Two American soldiers and a German were discovered in 1976. The memorial being known as "Soldatengrab", soldiers grave. In June 2002 Douglas Cahow paid an emotional visit to the site of his brothers death in combat in the green hell that was the battle of the Hrtgenwald. Pictured above is Doug. He has draped his Legion jacket and hat over the simple wooden cross (Doug is a veteran of another war - Korea). Doug told me that; "On June 3rd a large contingent of American and Dutch soldiers, plus many family and friends gathered at PFC Robert Cahows memorial. The servicemen put on a simple, but beautiful MIA programme. The highlight was a "last meal" ceremony, where a table, covered with a cloth had salt, a rose, a lemon and the MIA flag/sleeve placed upon it. There is but one chair and this is left empty - as this signifies the soldier

who is not there. It was a simple act, but it grabs your heart". Doug says. On June 12th 2004 Doug & Virginia Cahow will once again pay a visit to the site of Roberts battlefield memorial near Simonskall, Germany. Being the 60th anniversary of the liberation of Europe this will be an emotive time. It's hoped that veterans from both sides attend a special service of remembrance for those who still remain unaccounted for after so many years of peace. Meanwhile the work goes on to trace the missing. WW2 Battlefield Relics are working with the USA Central Identification Laboratories in Hawaii - CILHI on other MIA's, who fell in the same conflict.

The Cahow family continue their long association with the Armed forces and serving their country. Nephew Sergeant Robert Cahow, son of Douglas (Pfc Robert Cahow's brother) and Virginia Cahow has served in the 128th Infantry Regiment, Wisconsin National Guard in Iraq during 2004-2005. He earned a Combat infantry Badge. Sergeant Cahow remains an active member of the Army National Guard as a Combat Infantry Instructor. Nephew Sergeant James Cahow, son of Adam (Pfc Robert Cahow's brother) and Judy Cahow, served along the Berlin wall during the 1980's in the heat of the Cold War.

Niece Specialist Lynda Porter, Grand daughter of William (Pfc Robert Cahow's brother) and Elsie Cahow, served in the Wisconsin National Guard from 2000-2006.

Brothers always! Rob Cahow is never far from the minds of the remaining brothers. From left; Harold a USN veteran of WW2, Raymond also a USN veteran of WW2 and Douglas, a veteran of the Korean conflict, serving from 1950-55.

*Pvt. Heber N. Mizell, ASN: 33882075 was born in 1924. He enlisted on 6th April 1944 at Fort Meade. Once back at safety Mizell and Peddicord recounted their story to Jorgensen and the others in their foxholes. Neither soldier was questioned further upon the fate of Robert Cahow. Mizell was destined not to survive the war, being killed a matter of weeks later. **Pvt Wilbur C. Peddicord, ASN: 33560281 was born in 1922. He had enlisted on 26th February 1943 at Baltimore. He did survive the war and passed away in 1988, taking the nightmares of the war with him.
As callous as the actions of Mizell and Peddicord might seem, they were in a combat situation and no one should judge them. It is surprising that no one in authority questioned their story or that further efforts were not expended in locating Robert.

However it may be that someone did ponder what to do and decided that further losses did not warrant the effort for one man. Thus Robert Cahow was mourned, as many others still mourn. Until their loved ones once again return to their families and their final resting place. My deepest gratitude to the excellent Living History Group "35th Infantry Division Belgium" for their generous assistance in bringing the story of Robert Cahow to life.

A Soldiers Story.

The 87th Mountain Infantry Regiment of the 10th US Mountain Division was unique in being the first infantry regiment to serve in both the Pacific and European theatre of operations. After taking part in the occupation of Kiska in the Aleutians, and a period of increased training the 87th found themselves in Italy. At the beginning of January 1945, on the Eve of what was to the beginning of the end in Italy US Army General Hays, the 10th Division Commander met with Lt. General L.K. Truscott, Jr the new commander of the US Fifth Army in Italy. They were discussing the forthcoming assault on Mt Belvedere. But what was said I believe sums up the very essence of the fine qualities of the 87th Mountain Infantry, if not the whole Division.

Truscott says, "My plan is for your Division (the 10th Mountain) to capture Mt Belvedere, then proceed by stages to capture all the high ground to a position east of the town of Tole". Hays replies, "Who is going to share the bullets with us when we attack?" Truscott answered, his face not showing a bit of emotion, "No one." Such is the background to one soldiers story, but this is not the story of a General. It is the story, as far as we have been able to tell, of one American PFC, fighting in his first war. PFC, Jack Goldberg Army Number 33935228 had entered service for his country from Pennsylvania. He left behind him his sister Jennie. He had trained hard with his comrades on the parade ground and in the Rockie Mountains and was now a member of the special brotherhood of Mountain Infantry. He was a radioman, attached to the "Stubby mortar" company. The 87th were from all across the vast American countryside. Their numbers were made up of farmers from small towns, as well as trappers, hunters. These were soldiers who not only felt the keen bond of service in the Mountain Infantry, but they also worshipped the great outdoors, the jagged mountains, the sparely planted fields, the bracing wind as it whipped across their faces, and to ski through the jewelled snow. Jack Goldberg was attached to D Company, 1st Battalion, 87th originally. However the offensive across the mountains in pursuit of a stretched, but determined enemy was not without cost. The 87th, as well as it's sister Regiments suffered constant losses. Every ridgeline that had to be crossed meant another soldier fell victim to shot, shell or combat exhaustion. George F. Earles' history of the 87th records a bleak campaign, with every casualty named. It also shows the gritty spirit of an Infantry Regiment that was, in the words of the Regimental Co. Col. Fowler "fired up like no other unit he had ever seen". Jack was soon a vital part of the "stubby mortar" section. He acted as a forward observer, a job not without risk, this post had already cost two men their lives in the offensive. Below life in Italy: 1st Section 81mm Co. D. Left rear, standing S/Sgt Robert Dakin.

Below: The town of Mongiorgio, the objective of the 87th Infantry attack on April 19th 1945. Photo taken from A Company positions, prior to the assault.

Former S/Sgt Robert Dakin was section Sgt with the "stubby mortars". (I should perhaps mention that the "stubby" mortar was a standard 81mm piece with a shortened barrel. The thought being that these support weapons could then be used in close order with attacking infantry, rather than being located further to the rear). Dakin recalled that the regiment were in good spirits, they had the enemy on the run. Usually one "stubby" and its crew went in with an attacking rifle company as the 81mm mortar was much more effective

than the 60mm weapon. So recalled Dennis Erickson, another 87th Infantry veteran. The offensive was had been a steady slog, fighting the Germans for every hamlet and farm, as the 1st Battalion, 87th made it's way towards it goal, the river Po. The 18th April found them looking across to the town of Mongiorgio, located on a steep ridge that jutted out into the Samoggio river valley. It's main entrance was approached by an exposed road. It was not going to be an easy egg to crack! A preliminary patrol during the evening was forced back by some intense artillery fire - although German light artillery appeared ineffective they still had heavy calibre weapons of 170 & 240mm that could drop deadly shrapnel onto the advancing Americans. The plan was to attack it with two companies abreast. B Co. on the right, A Co. on the left. H hour was 8am. D Co. were to act as direct support. By this time Jack Goldberg had been seconded to Able Company and was advancing on Mongiorgio with an accompanying Battalion of Sherman tanks. The leading tank fired a into the Church steeple of Mongiorgio as they thought there was an MG42 inside it. However the threat to the attackers was not only in the hamlet itself. Below is the entrance (up the steps) to the church in Mongiorgio as it is today.

From across the valley German Tiger tanks started to shell the Shermans, three of which were soon ablaze. The remaining tank carried on into Mongiorgio. Able Company were already in the town, and having knocked out four MG42 positions were in the process of taking the dwellings surrounding the Church. Beyond the Church was an open area in front of more houses. As the Americans moved across this patch of open ground they began to receive heavy weapons fire from the front. True to form the Germans were launching a counter attack. This was met and foiled, but not without losses. The MG section had begun the day with twelve men. It ended with only one! All through this attack on Mongiorgio the air had been filled with bursting artillery shells and Jack Goldberg, like his comrades had to contend with this, as well as the German Infantry. Dennis Erickson recounted to me that during this time Goldberg as wounded by shrapnel; "Shrapnel had pierced one cheek and cut his tongue half off," Erickson said. "He went by us on his way back to the medics, he was walking."

Above is a sketch of Jack Goldberg. He was one of the men who featured in "Life" magazine in October 1944, as one of "Truscotts men". Even in this sketch Goldberg looks as though he has seen more than lesser men could stand. His moment of fame was short lived. Despite walking to the rear Jack Goldberg succumbed to his wounds on the 20th April 1945. Less than three weeks from the end of the war in Europe. General Order #111 Silver Star Citation: During a fierce barrage of artillery fire and mortar fire, all wired communications between a heavy weapons company and other units were destroyed by exploding shells. At a time when exposure meant almost certain injury, Private Goldberg left cover to repair wire that had been broken. Returning to the command post, he found that the wires had again been broken. For a second time he risked his life to effect repairs, in order that the supporting heavy weapons and artillery fire could be brought to bear on the enemy to repulse an expected counterattack. In another battle when the advance of an Armoured Division was being held up by fiercely resisting enemy forces using rockets and demolition charges, again Jack Goldberg distinguished himself by crawling to an exposed position to direct mortar fire on the hostile defenders, as he gallantly accomplished his dangerous mission, he was mortally wounded by an enemy shell. We acknowledge the grateful support of: Olan D. Parr Col. (ret), George F. Earle, Dennis Erickson, Bob Dakin and other veterans of the 10th Mountain Division. As Erickson recalls, "They were an exceptional group of men".

Today Jack rests among his comrades in the military cemetary in Florence.

Manfred Rottenberg.

Meet Lt. Manfred Rottenberg, born in Halle on 13th May 1920. He joined the Luftwaffe with his brother in law in 1940. Whilst

his brother in law had a career with KG51 the young Manfred was assigned to Flak Ersatz Abteilung 6, this unit having been formed in August 1939 in Hamburg. However, Manfred was destined to take part in Wacht am Rhien. Taking part in one of the well documented events of 1944 - supporting KG Peiper in his units attack on Honsfeld on December 16th 1944. Sadly the few veterans of FJD3 who are alive don't appear to recall Manfred. However his name does appear as Kompaniechef of 14./FJR8 from 30.11.44 taking over from Oberleutnant Barth who was listed as MIA in the Hrtgenwald on 29.11.44. FJR9 were still committed to the fighting in the Hurtgen forest until beginning of December, then being pulled out of the line and initially deployed to Duren before preparation for the Ardennes offensive. FJR9 had suffered grievous losses in the forest fighting and for Wacht Am Rhien fielded the following: I Battalion - 11 Officers and 513 men. II Battalion - 13 Officers and 457 men. III Battalion - 9 Officers and 389 men. Manfred is believed to have been transferred to 9th Regiment on December 15th in order to take over a Kompanie in the II./FJR9 and was with them as the unit began their advance from Losheimergraben. Vincent Kuhlbach who was a Fw Fhnrich and Zugfhrer in 1./FJR9 thought he could recall Manfred when they started out towards the small border town of Lanzerath on 16th December. There is little doubt that Manfred Rottenberg was one of the FJR9 men with the vanguard of KG Peiper on 17th, either riding on the Panther tanks or perhaps on foot. There are several well known pictures of LW personnel from FJR9 taken in Honsfeld on or about 17th December 1944. Below; Honsfeld, where once death and confusion reigned in 1944.

KG Peiper with its attendant Fallschirmjger escort went through Honsfeld in quick order, surprising and killing many US 99th Infantry Div men as well as capturing all sorts of vehicles and stores. The attack on Honsfeld moved on and the KG attacked towards Bllingen. The Germans had not had everything their way. They had lost several armoured vehicles to AT and Bazooka fire in and around Honsfeld. FJR9 lost at least 38 soldiers in the battle for Honsfeld. Among those lying on the battlefield was Lt. Manfred Rottenberg, killed in the last great offensive of the last war. The war came to Honsfeld and by the spring it had passed by for good. The Germans did bury a good number of these fallen comrades in the cemetery at Honsfeld, there is no way of knowing whether Manfred was among those laid to rest by his comrades. However, after the fighting the American graves registration teams got to work with the remaining local populace and the dead were gathered from where they had fallen. Initially Manfred was buried in Henri Chapelle, however in 1951 his remains were re-interred at the German soldiers cemetery at Lommel. The photographs and many letters from Manfred to his Mother were found just in time by an enthusiast who obtained a suitcase full of ephemera from the estate of Manfred's Mother in Oldenburg. If not for his timely

intervention this story may well have been literally lost forever.

Today Lt. Manfred Rottenberg still lies at Lommel. It might be reassuring to know that he rests alongside fellow FJ whose date of death is the same as his own. Perhaps he was found and buried by fellow Germans at first and later found a decent resting place among comrades.

Herbert Tauber.

Although still a live research project we thought that visitors may find this story of an ordinary German soldier of interest. The pictures and the Soldbuch above started a search for a soldier called Herbert Tauber. His life and death during WW2 were not unusual and perhaps that is why it seemed appropriate to try and tell his story. Herbert was born on April 8th 1910 in a town called Aue, near Zwickau in what is today the Eastern part of Germany. He married and had two children and was employed as a Zollwachmeister (Customs Service Sergeant). The war changed all of that and in November 1943 he moved to 4th Kompanie, 4th Landschutz Battalion and then into Stamm Kompanie 102nd Grenadier Ersatz Battalion, 2nd and then 1st March Kompanie of 31st Grenadier Ersatz Battalion. After service on the Central Russian front Herbert found himself in the 3rd Kompanie of 1038th Grenadier Regiment, part of the 64th Infantry Division. The Regiment part of the 15th Army and defending the Schelde coastline. The 64th was an emergency unit formed from men on leave from the Eastern front and this might explain why Herbert came to be fighting in the autumn of 1944 in Holland. The Divisional commander, Major General Kurt Eberding found that his unit had been cut off by the Canadian and British forces capturing Antwerp on September 4th. The regiment that Herbert was in became part of one hedgehog defence position near the coastal batteries of Breskens and Cadzand. It was in this final battle of the 64th Divisions existence as a fighting force that Herbert Tauber was killed, his body being buried in a field grave by his comrades. He had been killed on 28th October 1944. On November 2nd, his Divisional commander Eberding was captured along with the entire HQ staff, the 64th was destroyed. Subsequent research led us to the Volksbund cemetary at Ijsselstein where many of the dead from the fighting on the Scheldt coastline are laid to rest. At last after much searching the grave of Herbert Tauber was located. He had been buried alone in a field grave but had

fortunately been exhumed and laid to rest alongside fellow soldiers, thanks to a accurate map of his field grave being drawn in the rear of his Soldbuch. In future updates we hope to show the site of his original grave and the items that were left behind by the exhumation team.

B24 Liberator "Model T" "BarU" Mission 27.

Above is shown the remains of a temporary grave marker. This marked the grave of Sgt. Calvin W. James before it was replaced with the beautiful white cross in the Ardennes National Cemetery in Neupre, Belgium. This had been discarded with many others when the wooden crosses were replaced. We decided to tell the story of this one insignificant piece of alloy. Calvin James came from Yuma County, Phoenix, Arizona. He was born in 1923 in Oklahoma, enlisted on 22nd January 1943 and died on 7th July 1944, aged just 21. In his civilian life before joining up he was a construction equipment mechanic. Perhaps it was this love of mechanics that led him to join the American Air Force and fight for his country. Whatever the circumstance it was a military order dated 26th June 1944 that sent Calvin and his fellow crew members from 2nd Combat Crew Replacement Centre to the 392nd Bomb Group and 579th Squadron and sealed their fate. He was one of the waist gunners in a B24 Liberator, #42-52517. Upon the side of the fuselage was the birds name, "Model T" (see photo below courtesy B24.net). This was Calvin James first combat mission, and it was to be the last flight of "Model T". Pilot 2nd Lt. William Milliken and Co Pilot 2nd Lt. Robert Darnall were flying the aircraft on a daylight raid over Germany. According to Darnall, the only survivor of the events that followed he related that everyone was at their assigned positions within the bomber when it exploded in mid air. The aircraft had been intercepted by German fighters and during the air battle that followed tail gunner Sgt. Frank Orlando was killed. When the aircraft exploded (hurling Darnall through the fuselage and to his survival), he was with Milliken and radio operator Sgt. George F. Stella Jr. attempting to open the jammed bomb bay doors. The German report of this tragedy is as stark as the events that it relates. Although 8 of the crew of "Model T" died that day they did not stay together. Navigator Charles Euwer, Bombardier David C. Love, Engineer James W. Cothran were finally interred at Neupre with Calvin James. The other waist gunner, Jerome R. Lasater lies at Fort Sam Houston National Cemetery. Originally all the dead had been temporarily interred by the Germans at a local cemetery near the crash site at Egeln. Thus the piece of alloy at the top of this page signifies a

little bit more than it might to other people. It has marked the last resting place of a young man from Arizona who came to Europe to fight for freedom and paid the supreme price on his first adventure into combat. We are grateful to be able to tell their story. May they rest in peace...

The photo above shows two of the ground crew of 579th Squadron with "Model T" in England. Courtesy B24.Net.

During the fall of 1944 the German Army tried unsuccessfully to stem the tide of the Allied advance through France. During this time Schwere Panzer Abteilung 501 lost nearly all its

tanks. Below is a brief account of the recovery of two of those King Tigers, and their subsequent captivity. Tiger 121 of the first Kompanie SS Schw. Pz. Abt. 501 was commanded by an Oscharfhrer called Zahner*. On 9 September 1944 he and his crew were falling back from Guise and at a village called La Capelle, near St. Quentin the Tiger ran out of fuel. The crew disabled the 88mm gun as well as exploding some of the tanks ammunition in the engine compartment. The Tiger stood in the road, effectively blocking it. Later, some American engineers came across the tank and bulldozed it from the road. In doing so they overturned the Tiger, leaving it lying on its turret beside the road. Tiger 104 was the mount of HQ squad leader, Oberscharfhrer Sepp Franzl, among his crew were gunner Unterscharfhrer Hess, the loader, Panzerschtze Graf von Helldorf, radio operator Rottenfhrer Schrader. The fifth crew member is not known. The loader Graf von Helldorf recalled that their normal driver had been sent to the Lazarett two days earlier. Therefore the driver here was a stranger to him.** Tiger 104 had broken off from an engagement with several Sherman tanks. During this combat the tanks off-side suspension had been damaged. The crews nervousness can be gauged by the fact they fired an everything in sight. During the afternoon the tank pulled off the D981 into a field near Aux Marais, South West of Beauvais*** and began to fire on a farm building, believing it to house an anti-tank gun. When the Tiger moved off again sharply the off-side final drive failed, the tank was immobile. Franzl ordered the crew out, unaware that their movements were being observed by a group of FFI. The resistance group opened fire. Somehow all the crew did escape and were able to get back to their Kompanie by nightfall. Franzl's Tiger stood in the field for some time, the tide of war had swept past it. The autumn was wet, and soon the 70 ton behemoth had sunk into the field up to its deck plate. Below: one of the series of well known photographs of 104 taken during the Autumn of 1944. Note a German helmet lies

beneath the massive 88mm gun. Also she has lost some of her armoured Schrtzen. The hull MG34 has also disappeared!

Above: Tiger 121 lying upturned in the field near La Capelle in September 1944. This is how it was photographed by a very jubilant Frenchman as he cycled around the area so recently liberated by members of the US 4th Armoured Division. We believe that this is possibly one of the earliest photos of 121 taken after it's loss. They clearly show how the Tigers massive 88mm gun was traversed to almost 90 degrees to the hull, thus making recovery difficult. Add to this the slope of the embankment that the tank lies on. Thanks Teddy for the photos! This was the situation when, on 16 December 1944 a recovery team from the British REME arrived at La Capelle via Boulogne. During their journey they had to negotiate blocked roads and blown bridges. The team consisted of two Diamond T recovery tractors and a trailer, (originally built earlier in the war for an experimental heavy tank). As 121 lay upside down the turret & gun were at an angle to the hull. Firstly the turret/gun and hull had to be lined up in order to right the tank. This was not without difficulty. The Diamond T's were fitted with tracks to avoid sinking in the mud. Once this was done winch cables were attached and using a series of pulley mechanisms, "snatch blocks" the tank was righted. The loading onto the trailer went smoothly, although all the REME

equipment was strained to the limit, not ever having been designed to pull such a weight. On 18 December, the two tractors, trailer with 121 set off for the coast. As both tractors were linked in tandem the drivers had to synchronise gear changes, in order to avoid jerking along. A system of signals was soon devised and apart from slowing for obstacles the convoy managed a steady 6-10 mph.

Above: Tiger 121 has been loaded onto the specially constructed trailer. Just visible above the "white box" on the trailer is one of the hydraulic rams that lowered down once the pull had been completed. At Cambrai the convoy parked in the town square for the night. Later one of the team returned to find a Frenchman rummaging through the vehicle lockers. When challenged, the man launched into a torrent of explanation, which the soldier was unable to understand. A second Frenchman rode up on his bicycle and tried to explain, in broken English what his countryman was up to. While doing so the "curious" Frenchman took the opportunity to escape, using the second Frenchman's' bicycle! On Christmas day the REME recovery

team met their American counterparts and Tiger 121 began it's journey to America...

The REME team arrived at Beauvais after their initial success at La Capelle in high spirits. Despite the freezing weather they believed that the recovery of Tiger 104 was going to be easy, compared to 121, (but they knew nothing of the drive failure). The initial attempt to pull 104 from the field proved fruitless, her tracks were frozen to the ground. More cables were laid, so as to generate a greater pulling ratio, in the end a 6-1 ratio. In addition, petrol was poured onto the ground alongside the Tigers tracks and set alight. This had the desired effect and the tank moved several feet, with the off-side track locked. Next day the same pull ratio was rigged up. Overnight Tiger 104 had become frozen to the field once more. As the tractors pulled, the towing cable became taught, then finally broke with a sharp crack! Fortunately no one was in the way, although a dog, that had attached itself to the team took flight at this, not to be seen again. Eventually Tiger 104 was loaded onto the trailer and began its journey to the coast. The convoy of Diamond T's and trailer made its way to Calais. Once there it was loaded onto a train ferry and brought back to England. The recovery operation drew to a close on January 15 when Tiger 104 arrived at Chobham in Surrey, the home of the Directorate of Tank

Design. Apart from the broken cables, to be expected in a recovery of such magnitude the Diamond T's did a steady 3 miles to the gallon.

Above and previous picture, the recovery of 104. Both pictures show damage to the right side of the hull. Tiger 104 has been moved from the AFV Wing at the RMCS Shrivenham to Bovington in 2006. The UK's only Henschel turreted Tiger II. *Patrick Agte's book "Michael Wittman and the Tiger Commanders of the Leibstandarte" cite Unterscharfhrer Heinz Buchner as commander of this tank. ** This account amended after interview with Graf von Helldorf November 2002. *** Jean-Paul Pallud successfully located the field near Beauvais, see Rckmarsch, Then & Now. ISBN: 1-870067-57-6. It was lost on 30th August 1944.

Above; Tiger 121 on the road near La Capelle, 1944.

Off road! a recent discovery, Tiger 121 after being rolled. Taken in 1944 by US MP the late Bert Spiese.

Tiger 121 during her journey to the coast.

121 as she appears in the Museum at Munster today.

Tiger 104 as she was in Shrivenham, prior to the move back to Bovington in 2006.

The plethora of markings on WW2 German military equipment may not be to everyone's interest. However, we would like to share our particular interest in the marks found on items of bakelite equipment. We have combined just some of them above; found on losantine tablet tubes, a protection against blister gas attacks. These would hold around 12 tablets. Also shown are a bakelite binocular case, fuze caps, tropical water bottle cup, field telephones, fat containers etc. The markings on most pre-war items are easily identified as makers logos. However the German military, perhaps thinking ahead realised that such logos could easily provide enemy intelligence with potential targets for bombing. It was the German Federation of Electrical Engineers who first attempted to present guidelines for material classification in 1924, as many of their members were involved in the process of bakelite production. The national material proofing house (materialprfungsamt), based in Berlin Dahlem to come up with the solution. In December 1938 the "MP" devised the common logo, around which information on the maker of the item, as well as the chemical composition of the bakelite could easily be displayed. Examples of which are to be seen above and below. The triangular logo in the centre is BEBRIT, Prestoffwerke GmbH, Bebra und C.F. Schlothauer, Ruhla. They produced "Type S" bakelite, both maker logo and adjacent MP code appeared

together. We have analysed the logo as well as the codes and provided a list of makers as well as chemical composition of the bakelite below.

Below: is an example of the Materialprfungsamt logo. We have "broken down" the logo to make it easier to see the component parts. Below the example is shown how it was incorporated in designs. You can see here that it was often used as well as the firms logo.

In the Company of Heroes".

There are going to very few visitors to this site who have not heard of "Easy Company" 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment of the 101st Airborne. Their story has become folklore to a whole new generation of avid historians, and we support the rebirth of interest in that former generations service and sacrifice. Above, the village of Aldbourne today. New homes surround the older parts of the village where young soldiers

rested and trained before going to the airfields and climbing aboard the C47 transports for their next mission. There is still evidence of the places where men trained, ate, slept, although the latter is only partly true as the much publicised removal of the old stable block from near the village green to America in 2004 severed a very tangible link with the past.

However, yet more exciting finds come to light, even now. At left are some of the identity disks that a local metal detectorist has located in recent years. The names may be familiar to someone. Any further information on these individuals is welcome; Elmer L. Debarea, A.S.N. 37246317. Baker Company 501st. Read his story here Stanley Stockdale Jr, A.S.N. 35883057. Born in 1925, Stanley was from Kentucky. He enlisted in Ohio on 12th January 1944. Coming from a rural background Stanley was a farm hand, with practical experience in the matters of life and death. He was to see far more during his young life as a paratrooper in the 101st. (photo below). Bernard A. Korst, A.S.N. 37029806. Charlie Company 502nd. Bernard was born June 1919 in Montana, and so perhaps was looked upon as a father figure by those younger troopers around him. He passed away in 1979, taking those memories of his experiences during WW2 with him. Ernest Bills, A.S.N. 15072101. Easy Company 502nd. Enlisted into the Army on February 5th 1942 at Fort Hayes, Columbus, Ohio. Having done 2 years of High School. Born on 12th November 1913, older than his peers he was married and no doubt looked after those around him. He climbed aboard his final trooper transport in 1979, taking his history with him.

Clyde C. Schneider, A.S.N. 36297181. Dog Company 501st. Read his story here John L. Davis, A.S.N. 15316846. A Technician 5th Grade in Service Company 506th. John L. Davis came to Aldbourne from Trumbull County, Ohio, U.S.A. Sadly we know little about him. He died during the liberation of Normandy. However, the discovery of his disk in England led to another story being told. There was another John L. Davis, a Corporal in 502nd P.I.R. Both men had been in England.

Stanley Stockdale Jr in 1944.

Above: The irrefutable truth, John L. Davis' name in the Ohio Honour Roll. Purple Heart Lane.

By the evening of June 6th, Lt. Col. Robert Cole of 3rd Battalion, 502nd P.I.R. had gathered together a force of around

250 men from those who had dropped in Normandy during that day of days. This force was soon to be used in heavy combat during the attack on Carentan. The German garrison in the town, numbering little more than a regiment itself was determined to give no ground without a fight. The N13 approaches the town along a causeway and passes over 4 river bridges; Jourdan, Douve, Le Groult and Madeleine. On June 11th 1944 this causeway was the scene of intense courage and sacrifice. Lt. Col. Cole and the men of 502nd were pinned down for over an hour by intense MG fire and accurate mortar fire from an emplaced enemy from 150 yards to their front. The next action earned Cole a Medal of Honour and his place in history. It also meant that one John L. Davis, a Corporal from Baltimore as well as many others that day went into action for the last time. Lt. Col. Cole issued the order to fix bayonets! He then got up, pistol in hand and ignoring the enemy MG fire encouraged the men about him to charge the positions. Gathering up a fallen comrades rifle and bayonet he led the charge across the open ground and thereby the bridgehead over the Douve river and it's tributaries was established. The causeway became known as Purple Heart lane, and Cole's act, the cabbage-patch fight (in 1944 the enemy occupied a cabbage patch, no trace of which is left today). Corporal Davis was just one of those who earned a Purple Heart that day. A long way from the peaceful English village he left in June 1944. We dedicate these pages to the memory and to the sacrifice of those young soldiers who passed through Aldbourne on their way into history. As yet we have no further information on the John L. Davis from Ohio. He has the peculiar honour of not only sharing his name with a comrade in another Airborne unit, but sadly his date of death. Both soldiers died the same day. Did they ever meet and joke over their shared name? Did they fight alongside each other? Today John L. Davis from Ohio lies at rest in America. His namesake from Maryland lies with his fellow soldiers in Colleville sur Mer, Normandy.

Above: Howard M. Williams, A.S.N. 37526221. Was born in 1925 and enlisted at Fort Leavenworth in Kansas on 18th May 1943. We believe him to be a member of Baker Company 506th P.I.R. Somehow Howard left one of his tags and chain in Aldbourne during the war.

Above: Staff Sargeant Anthony Dieni originally heralded from Wayne County, Michigan. He gave his life during WW2. The Michigan address on his dog tag after initial research is no longer there. We have not found any trace of his enlistment documents thus far. Below: How some paratrooper of the 502nd must have cursed when his rifle jammed because of a failed cartridge! The previous 30 cal round has been expended, but part of the cartridge has remained in the breech, the next round has then jammed into the "sleeve" left by the former. Garand Guru Scott Duff of USA has witnessed similar cartridge failures on the ranges. So a manufacturer fault. Such a problem in Normandy would have caused much consternation!

The countryside in which the 101st Airborne did their training before going overseas still hides traces of their passing. Below: Subject to a great degree of "target practice" was this Sherman tank turret, now quietly mouldering.

The exploits of the WW2 American Paratroopers would be nothing without the support and service of the men of Troop Carrier Command. In the case of the 101st Airborne that came in the form of 437th Troop Carrier Group who were stationed in nearby Ramsbury Airfield.

The dogtag above was worn by Eugene Greek, who, as far as we've been able to ascertain lied about his age in order to join up! From the archives the only person with that name and heralding from Michigan was born in 1931, making him only 12 when he joined up? Sadly he passed away in 2007 and so his story appears lost forever. However it is known that he saw activity with 437th TCC and took Paratroopers and gliders to Europe.

Clyde C. Schneider, A.S.N. 36297181. Dog Company 501st.

I am indebted to Casey Maguire of Twin Falls, Idaho for assisting me in the following account . His Father, Walt "Mac" Maguire served in First Platoon, D Company of 501st P.I.R. and was a good friend of Clyde Schneider, native of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The extract below also includes part of a narrative written by another D Company veteran, Bill Hayes. Just after Christmas 1943 the men of the 501st left Boston on the East coast of America for Scotland and the war! They arrived in Great Britain on January 31st 1944. They were camped near Newbury, Berkshire and thus became used to life in England. For what ever reason it was during his time in England that Clyde Schneider mislaid one of his identity disk!

We shall now skip forward a few months, to Autumn 1944. DDay has passed, as has Operation Market Garden and the men of the 101st are in the rest camp in Mourmelon, France. The days passed with replacements coming in to take the places of those friends who had been lost during the Operations in Holland, weapons cleaning and repair, training and checking out the other units in the area, without getting into too many fights! The First Platoon of Dog Company now had a strength of 53 men (above their normal number of 45). The rest only lasted a couple of weeks. On December 18th 1944, the men of the 101st were once again called to arms. After a long truck journey and march D Company 501st found themselves in combat near the hamlet of Bizory (nicknamed misery by the soldiers). The fighting in this area went on for several days. On one occasion when the skies were clear the Luftwaffe put in an appearance and dropped bombs near the men's positions. Shrapnel from one of these shells injured Clyde Schneider, a machine gunner, in the rear! It wasn't serious and Clyde must have been fairly coy about this incident anyway. It meant his 3rd Purple Heart of the war! On January 3rd 1945 the soldiers moved into new positions in the woods. German foxholes were located and appeared empty. A grenade thrown into the first hole resulted in a noise from within. A shaken and dazed German emerged and handed his Luger pistol, butt end first to Clyde Schneider. This caused some consternation to Clydes comrades as he already had one Luger in his possession!! Obviously not wanting to decline the chance of another trophy he tucked this pistol into the front of his jacket. The men continued their walk through the trees. The Platoon Sgt. Buck West ordered Bill Hayes to go across an open field to make contact with Battalion HQ. Hayes started across the snow covered clearing, with a Corporal following a few paces behind. After a short distance an MG42 opened up on them. Hayes dropped to the ground, luckily in a low spot out of the line of fire. He looked about and saw Clyde

Schneider standing up, trying to locate the enemy gun. A shot rang out and Schneider pitched backwards into the snow. A Sherman tank of the 10th AD came along and placed itself between the Americans and the German MG. Hayes got over to where Schneider was now sitting up in the snow. He reached into his jacket and pulled out the smashed Luger and threw it away in disgust, probably muttering something about the German ruining his trophy. The Americans moved to better cover, just in time to see the German machine gunner backing out of the bushes. Hayes lifted his Thompson and fired three shots at the retreating German. He was hit with all three and fell. This German too was carrying a Luger on his belt. But in their eagerness to obtain a trophy two of Clydes comrades were badly injured by other enemy fire. We have only dwelt briefly on this story, but it serves to illustrate the attitude of these soldiers. They were in a desperate fight and saw friends grievously injured or killed. Perhaps to occupy themselves the emphasis was on gaining trophies. To try and make sense of the senseless. Clyde Schneider survived the war as far as we know. (Incidentally he had also earned a Silver Star during the Veghel battle of September 1944. Other details will be added later.

Elmer L. Debarea, A.S.N. 37246317. Baker Company 501st.

Elmer Landon Debarea was born on 27th July 1922 in Pontiac, Michigan. His parents moved to Kansas sometime before 1930. He married, but this appears to have lasted only briefly. The portrait above right of Elmer is very different from the formal picture below left or the one of Elmer taken in December 1945 during some leave in France, the V-mail letter

to his folks was sent while he was in England. This confirmed his unit and ASN. Elmer served with the 501st during it's time in England, France and Belgium. According to his Catherine Lilley, a girl he met in England, he broke a leg during the D-Day drop, as well as later receiving a serious head wound that required a steel plate to be fitted in his head. He married, but this appears to have lasted only briefly. This young warrior came home in early 1946, to his family and young brother who idolised him. The young man who had been through so much only stayed here a few short months before leaving home. He has not been heard from in 59 years! The family of Elmer Debarea, including his younger brother and his daughter (seen above left) are hoping that visitors to this site can piece together the final parts of the puzzle. The disk that he lost all those years ago has been returned to Kansas for them to treasure. Please let us know if you were a B Company 501st veteran who may remember Elmer. We'd like to bring him home again, for good. Please contact us. We can now expand the story further, thanks to the wonders of web and the popularity of WW2 Battlefield Relics!

Elmer Landon Debarea was inducted into the US Army on December 4th 1942. Inducted into Army Service #37246317. Registration Registered order #12787 at Sedgewick County, Wichita. Elmer broke his leg during the D-Day drop and returned to England. It was here, in July 1944 that Elmer met Catherine Lilley. Catherine recalled a bicycle ride with two friends. Pushing their bikes up a steep hill they heard a "Over here girls!" from the other side of the road. Elmer, his best friend Duane Fisher, and another boy were sat with their backs to the fence, each young man had a leg in plaster!! A conversation was struck up and Catherine on her telephone number to Allan (Elmer). Later she took him to meet her folks and their friendship grew. Elmer staying with the Lilley family whenever he could between the campaign in France and Belgium. In December 1944 Elmer rejoined his unit and spent that Christmas cut off in the Northern perimeter of the besieged town of Bastogne. At some stage during his duty he received a

serious head injury, and had to have a steel plate fitted in his skull. Before leaving for the USA Elmer gave Catherine the items below, including his second type Screaming Eagle patch, his sterling silver jump wings, Army ring and Jeep qualification badge. Once back in America Elmer married an American girl and spent some time with his family before leaving for Colorado. His wife has also disappeared. On May 17th 1948 Elmer re-enlisted into the Army, and worked at Fitzsimons General Hospital in Colorado. According to a letter from the HQ of the Enlisted Detachment Branch of the hospital, written by a Major George T. Collier, Elmer went AWOL on July 6th 1948. The Major expressed surprise at this as Elmer had shown no outward signs of distress or actions out of character. Meanwhile in England Catherine recalled receiving a letter, around 1948 from Elmer. In this he told her he was planning on getting over to Europe and meeting up with DF (presumably his old Army buddy Duane Fisher). However, after this nothing more was heard of Elmer. Was he attempting to get back to his English rose? As yet there is no trace of Elmer. Perhaps we might yet learn more of his life after 1948 and this can then be passed on to those who miss him most.

Colford E. Garton Jr, A.S.N. 12132010. G Company, 506th P.I.R

The 1941 dated US canteen cup below was found in England recently. The soldier to whom it had once belonged had trained as a paratrooper and was one of Colonel Sinks men. Below: The canteen cup and the details that can be deciphered from it. On the bottom of the cup is the legend "C2010G", this is the initial of the owners first name (Colford), as well as the last 4 numbers of his ASN, "2010" and lastly the "G" of G Company. The marking of personal items in this way being standard practice in the US Army.

On one side is written "Phillie" - we guess this is perhaps his nickname, but also his home state of Philadelphia. On the other is his surname "Garton". Colford Garton, ASN. 12132010 attended the Parachute training class number 49 at Fort Benning, Georgia in 1942. He was a member of G Company, 3rd Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment. He was later at Fort Bragg, North Carolina with his comrades before leaving for England. Perhaps in another camp the name Garton was also being marked on equipment, this time by Colfords' brother William. When Colford Garton came home from the war in 1945 he did so knowing that his brother was not going to be there with him. Sadly Private William Garton, ASN. 33585334 was killed on 28 October 1944 during the attack on Moncourt Woods in France as a soldier in 104th Infantry Regiment of the 26th "Yankee" Division. How this must have hit Colford we will never know. Will Garton lies with comrades in plot C, row 19, grave 38 of the St. Avold cemetery in France.

Sometimes the answers to our questions lie closer to home. Such was the case in Colford Elmer Garton. We would have so much liked to hear that he had attended various veterans gatherings. Sadly this was never to be as our research was

confirmed by the pictures on this page taken by a friend in America. Colford Garton was indeed among friends, lying peacefully in Beverly cemetery, New Jersey, USA. He was only 30 years of age when he passed away in 1948. Whether this was the result of wounds received in the line of duty is not known.

Above: Colford Garton lies among his fellow servicemen in the cemetery in New Jersey. There is nothing to distinguish his from the others, apart from what we have learned. That is, that he was once a young "Screaming Eagle"

Maybe someone will adopt this soldier too, and pay him a visit every once in a while, just to say "thank you".

John. F. Peters, A.S.N. 20320758. Easy Company 110th Infantry Regiment.

The picture above shows a fresh faced PFC John Peters. Born in 1919 and resident of Allegheny County, Pennsylvania he answered his country's call to arms on 3rd February 1941 at Pittsburgh, PA. He was enlisted as a National Guardsman in the states Keystone Division and thus his part in this great units history was sealed. Before going overseas John had been initially placed in the 29th Infantry Division and had gone on army maneuvers in North Carolina. Having always had a great love of music, (his occupation upon enlisting was given as "musician or teacher of music"), John became a member of the US Army Show Band and toured 18 cities in America, as a trumpet player. At one point the band the newly formed 17th Airborne Division at camp McCall, North Carolina before going overseas. It was later Summer 1944 when John found himself among the rolling hills of Salisbury Plain in Wiltshire, England. He was camped at Codford and underwent six weeks of further training. He was now about to become a replacement in the 28th Infantry Division as that unit embarked on one of the biggest moments in it's history. John went into the line as a rifleman in the second Battalion, Easy Company, 110th Infantry Regiment, 28th Infantry Division went into combat in the Hrtgen forest. Despite of, or perhaps because of the fighting in this part of Germany John saw no civilians during his time in the line. Somehow he managed to come through the fighting in the "Death factory" unscathed and breathed a sigh of relief when the Division was finally moved to a "quiet" part of the front on November 13th, 1944 to recover from the fighting and for losses to be replaced. For John, that "quiet" part of the front was the town of Clervaux on the Western banks of the Our river in the Luxembourg area of the Ardennes! The Division was arrayed from North to South along the Our; 112th, 110th,109th. For this Division, and the Allies this quiet sector was about to erupt.

In the early hours of December 16th, the frontline came alive as German artillery and mortar fire began to fall heavily and accurately upon the soldiers of the Keystone Division as they sheltered in their foxholes. Deadly shrapnel cut through the air. One piece injuring John in the face. He was evacuated to the Battalion Aid station (located at Clervaux rail station), for medical attention and it was here that he was later captured. For John the war was over. He was taken by road march and truck journey to Bitburg and initially to Stalag 12A near Limburg. During this time his wounds were dressed before another harrowing train journey to his final destination of Stalag 3A at Luckenwald. His capture was noted by the Division on 20th December, 1944. His release came with confirmation of his repatriation back home on a ship on the 6th June, 1945. Once back on American soil a very thin John Peters was able to truly relax, with two weeks R&R in Miami, before finally being mustered out at Indiantown Gap, PA. Happily married for 60 years and having raised two daughters John F. Peters has earned his time of peace. Below: Linked to the story above by the town of Clervaux is this German Erkennungsmarke, identity disk which was discarded by the owner some time before the liberation of Clervaux by the Americans in September 1944.* *It may be worth reminding visitors that the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg was, from May 1940 part of Germany. It formed part of Moselgau. The information transcribes as Kommandeur der Gendarmerie, Klerf (Clervaux). The owners roster number being 31. Former Customs and Gendarmerie Officers (Freiwilligen Corps etc) were often members of this Deutsche Volksbewegung (German Peoples Movement), but not all. This would mean that these former officers would be classed as German Gendarmerie members, members of the Zollgrenzschutz etc. As such they

would also be able to serve in the Wehrmacht, SS, OT and even German Security forces such as Gendarmerie. This being a Police rather than a military unit there may have been a very good reason why the owner discarded it. Klerf is the "German" term for Clervaux, Luxembourg having it's own distinct language. Since writing this article I have been told of a similar disc being found nearby by another digger. Perhaps several men chose to change their identities at a crucial moment?

"I'll be with you in Apple blossom time".

The field of maize rippled gently under the warm Sun. As the detectorist made his was over the area with careful sweeps of his detector there was no hint of what lay beneath his feet, nor of the events of 63 years past. Though this was about to change in a big way... November 2nd 1944 dawned cold and misty, it wasn't quite freezing, but it was cold enough for the soldiers standing in their dugouts, curled up together for warmth in wrecked houses. On this day the soldiers of the 28th Infantry Division were awaiting the order to go forward. An attack had been planned, the only offensive action in the whole V Corps area, and the 112th Infantry Regiment were to spearhead the assault. After an hour long artillery barrage of enemy positions 2nd Batt. 112th Infantry was to jump off at H hour, (09.00). The objective being the town of Vossenack. 1st Batt. 112th would leave it's line of departure at H hour plus 3, noon. They would move by column of Companies through defensive positions held by their own A Company at Richelskaul. They would then proceed towards the Kall trial, south of Vossenack. Their objective was to be the hamleet of Kommerscheidt.

3rd Batt. would follow 1st Batt. on order and capture the last objective, the town of Schmidt. The 2nd Batt. assault on Vossenack would be launched by two companies; Company G on the left and F Company on the right. At H hour the men of G Company rose stiffly from their foxholes and formed up behind the supporting medium tanks of 707th Tank Battalion. As the US artillery ceased the Germans replied, a number of Americans becoming casualties even before the attack had begun. The men of Company G sought protection in the wake of the Sherman's as they began to move forward, through the open fields and cleared mine fields. Through the mist and smoke the men could just see the church steeple of Vossenack Church before them.

German troops in Vossenack itself now began to augment the din of battle with small arms fire and mortars. One of the M4's hit a mine, having strayed from the cleared lane. The tank was disabled, the attack went on. The losses mounted and can be gauged by the example of the HQ group of G Company. Of the 27 men who made up the group 12 were either killed or wounded in the mine field, only 2 NCO's remained out of the MG Platoon leaders. These men, both Corporals, slightly wounded themselves re-organised the Platoon and continued forward. The Rifle Platoons faired little better; 1st & 3rd Platoons having lost their leaders within 400 yards of the line of departure. The enemy hold on Vossenack began to relax, the GI's of G Company went on. (The original plan had allowed for them to be on the objective in 3 hours). In actuality the men entered Vossenack after just over 1 hour. The objective was theirs! Company G now made their way along the main street of Vossenack and out of the far end of town onto the exposed ridge beyond it. The area was open fields on either side of the road, the ridge dropped away Northeastwards. This exposed finger of real estate pointed towards the high ground of Brandenberg and Bergstein. Thus the scene had been set for the tragedy that was to befall the men of Company G in the next few days.

Henry Enrique Marquez was 21 years old. One of 6 children he was brought up in the Armourdale area of Kansas City. His devilish good looks he'd inherited from his Mexican Father. As a youngster he'd made money shining shoes, he also kept pigeons. He loved basketball and he also played piano. His favourite song being "I'll be with you in Apple Blossom Time". His carefree lifestyle was put on hold when, on March 4th 1944 Henry was inducted into the Army at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. Henceforth he became PFC Marquez, Army Service Number 37736316. Now having made it as far as the ridge beyond Vossenack he started digging again. The foxhole he was to share in the forthcoming days being shared with another survivor of that initial assault PFC Julian Harold Rogers.

Rogers was a native of Monroe, Indiana. He was also age 21, but unlike Marquez he had married his sweetheart Elsie in 1941 and they had a little girl called Connie. Julian had been inducted into the Army 18th February 1943 in Indianapolis, now PFC Rogers, Army Service Number 35093703 also of Company G, 2nd Battalion, 112th Infantry Regiment.

What conversations passed between the two men as they hunkered down in their damp foxhole that night have passed beyond our ears. That first night on the ridge passed fairly quietly, with only sporadic fire on the men in their foxholes. Perhaps Marquez and Rogers took it in turns to cat nap in their hole, while awake straining their ears for sounds of an unseen enemy just beyond the rim of the hole. Perhaps they whispered words of encouragement to each other and their fellow GI's. November 3rd dawned and the true extent of Company G's exposed position on the forward slope of the ridge was plain to see, not least to the German observers on the distant Brandenberg/Bergstein ridge. To attempt to move from ones foxhole during daylight now invited death or injury as German artillery shells probed the ridge for victims. The ridge gradually became pock marked with livid stains were shells had torn up the fields and here and there had found their human targets. The enemy observers clearly had the ridge zeroed in. American armour stayed within Vossenack itself, for them to venture out into the open would result in their loss. The night was upon them again and the men on the ridge welcomed it with relief, for they could now be re-supplied and movement was possible in the darkness. Did Rogers and Marquez receive a hot meal or drink during those quiet hours, or did they make do with the gritty, bitter lemon powder added to their canteen water? The 4th November brought further shelling, but now the Germans were probing G Company with patrols as elements of the 156th Pz. Grenadier Regiment moved forward against them. Now, as well as large calibre artillery and mortar fire from distant hills the air was cut by the sharp sound of burp guns and the crack of rifle fire. On this day in 1944 PFC's Julian Rogers and Henry Marquez were killed, victims of a burst of MG fire as it swept the ridge. Although comrades about them were aware of their becoming

casualties no one dared risk their own life in assessing the extent of their injuries. (The situation at Vossenack deteriorated further, on 5th November further enemy patrol activity and intensified shelling pounded the ridge and now the town itself. As darkness fell on the 5th, the men of 2nd Batt. could take no more. They had seen their comrades blown to pieces and done to death in horrific attitudes. They began to leave their foxholes and sought some shelter within Vossenack.

On the 6th the 2nd Batt. 112th Infantry finally broke completely. The position collapsed as the men fell back into the town completely, leaving their dead behind on the exposed ridge. Among them were Marquez and Rogers).
Henry Marquez was officially presumed dead in late 1945, his family having still held onto a vain hope that he might return. His parents had opened a savings account in his name, his room was left as he'd left it when he went off to war. Finally though, the Marquez family had to accept that their boy was not coming home. How could his comrades have seen him fall and yet their was no resting place for him, only a name on the tablets of the missing? The metal detector let out a shrill whine, there was something metallic beneath the soil at the diggers feet. He gently sifted the soil between his fingers. A human tooth! Then the familiar shape of an American identity disc, on the remains of it's chain. The finds were passed onto CIHLI at Hawaii after a complete excavation of the area. The excavation recovered the remains of both men, one still wearing his M1 helmet, water purification tablets, 30 calibre ammunition, a fork, coins, sleeping bag and a grenade. Both men died with their boots on. Finally, after a gap of over six decades Henry Marquez and Julian Rogers were found, and came home to rest at last. PFC Julian Rogers was laid to rest at Arlington National Cemetery, as is the entitlement of any fallen US serviceman whose family wish it to be so. He was interred with full military honours.

PFC Henry Marquez returned to Kansas City and to his family. Both soldiers were interred in May 2009. The process of formal identification having taken nearly two years. Despite the existence of identity discs the men's identity had to be corroborated using dental, mitochondrial DNA as well as the circumstantial evidence found with their remains.