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Fireworks At The Rhine - Apathetic, hollow-eyed villagers stared at us as we raced through their communities March 25, travelling 28 miles almost to the Western Rhine bank. Their homes had been spared from destruction, for all resistance had collapsed. The division was in pursuit and forward elements had already successfully bridged the last great obstacle to victory. Monsheim, Alzey and Kongernheim were names of towns hastily observed as we assembled late in the afternoon of the 26th, several miles west of the river. We had already moved over a portion of the famed Reichs Autobahnen -- Hitler's super highway network, now thronged with our traffic proceeding west and east to the Rhine. Trucks travelling westward were crammed with the once-vaunted Wehrmacht, now a tattered, dismayed and thoroughly conquered lot.  Company column on the Autobahn The column moved off the road into fields in the vicinity of Dexheim, Germany, north of Oppenheim, where we were to await the hour until preparations had been completed at the bridge and priority traffic safely across. Tanks, amphibious craft and artillery pieces rumbled by as Capt. Johns briefed us on the situation at hand. He told us enemy planes had been over the area each night about 6 p.m. and advised us to dig in. Many of us wasted little time in doing so. They were overhead! Before we could observe them, the shattering fire from our concealed batteries along the river roared the warning. For some minutes they were too high to been seen in the fog shrouded evening -- fog which belched forth from our smoke pots and chemical devices close to the river's bank. But tracer patterns lighted the sky and powerful searchlights sought to trap the raiders in a blaze of light. They were dropping flares, seeking the bridge, as they swooped in over the assembly grounds. A flare dropped over the field silhouetting the vehicles and we feared an egg would fall on us at any second. We hit the ground, eyes turned skyward, but they had passed over, circling above the bridge and river once more. There wasn't much room under the halftrack -- Noel, Fountain and DeSimone were already in the prone as the "Old Man" looked around for a safe spot. Suddenly a flash of light streaked across the sky. We exclaimed, "that guy must be nuts to fly over-head with his lights on through such a heavy concentration of ack-ack." None of us realized, at the time, that this was a jet-propelled fighter. But he was far ahead of the bursts from the over-anxious gunners as our lights picked up his trail of flight on a wide sweep over the assembly area. Shortly after midnight the order came through. "Turn them over and proceed to the bridge!" We moved slowly nine miles to the river's edge at Nierstein, Germany, beneath the protective fire of the antiaircraft batteries throwing up an almost endless barrage. Here was the river, rapidly flowing but not as wide as we had expected. The vehicles moved forward about a hundred yards and we could see the bridge. It was the longest treadway pontoon span erected under fire by Third Army Engineers. As the first vehicle, our track, prepared to move across at 1:35 a.m., all hell broke loose. The fog, cloaking the river and bridge, was penetrated by the flashes of an almost continuous streaming fan of tracer shells. A jet raider streaked over but disappeared in a flash of ack-ack as the huge lights sought to pluck it from the sky. Fred Noel, at the wheel of the halftrack with his eyes lifted skyward, almost drove off the bridge. He wasn't star-gazing but was intent upon the overhead fireworks. Two or three vehicles crossed the span at close intervals as the rest, gathered near buildings on the river bank, awaited their turn. Personnel of the Second Echelon truck -- last vehicle to safely bridge the river -- observed the destruction of a Hermann plane as they moved across to the east bank. The danger from falling fragments of flak was nearly as great as that from the Nazis above, and some trucks were hit before reaching the immediate bridge approach. |
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Trebur - By 2 a.m. the morning of March 27, our column had successfully moved beyond the Rhine to an area five miles east near Trebur, Germany, where the company established a field bivouac. Sniper fire was heard along the river route and we took all safety precautions as the convoy halted for the night. The hours passed without a sign of the Krauts. With daybreak, the men were already swapping stories and relating the hair-raising experiences of the night before. Many were of the opinion the reception we had received at Avranches, in Normandy, exceeded the warmth of our welcome here. Hogarth and Gray, operating the gas truck, related that before we had left the assembly grounds, prior to the crossing, they had gone for a load at the dump several miles away. While preparing to load up, eight Krauts were seized by the men servicing the incoming vehicles. The prisoners were quickly but firmly impressed into a work gang loading all trucks. Hogarth and Gray remarked this was the first chance they had to observe others in their role, as they stood by admiring the performance. Lt. White, with his prime movers and crews, hadn't accompanied us the night before but rejoined the company before noon. Their vehicles had been halted along the road descending to the river where they were joined by a column of "rolling" naval craft and personnel. But there was no longer a need for amphibious or assault equipment. The sea-going soldiers had lost their bearings when they were directed to remain in bivouac with the platoon, from which point they could see the attack upon our column as we crossed the river. The intensity and excitement of the night's adventure, shared by all of us, became the sole topic of conversation for the day. Some Headquarters Company men, bivouacked in the fields across the road from our encampment, had discovered a cache of German liquors and footstocks [foodstocks] in railroad cars halted in the yards of a nearby station. We dispatched Semenowitz's truck and a trusty crew including Matz, Keller, Kampmier and Filogomo, who appreciated the nature of the job. They needed little instruction to return with as many cases of wine, whiskey, tubs of butter and pickles as the truck would contain. At the yard they were greeted by the shouts and cheers of a small mob who had already helped them-selves to a share of the booty. They were recently liberated slave laborers -- Poles, Russians, French and other nationals celebrating their newly won freedom. Empty bottles were smashed against the cars as full cases were torn open. As the truck moved across the rails, the men observed rolling stock bearing the names of cities and countries from all of enslaved Europe from which they had been seized. But all now displayed the black-eagle symbol of servitude and Nazi violence. There was enough for all and the truck was hurriedly loaded with pickles and butter for our kitchen, wine and liquor for distribution to each man. Many of us drank too liberally of a potent brandy wine and a colorless Vodka-type bottled lightning, and to our dismay all remaining bottles were ordered to be destroyed before we departed for Langen, the morning of March 28. (At this late date, we might reveal, several cases were concealed among the truck's contents or deep in the trailers, to make an appearance bottle by bottle at a time not too distant.) The company moved into soft fields near Langen, 48 miles to the east, and we were rapidly piercing the heartland of Germany. Supporting infantry divisions had been left behind as the armored thrusts were at the gates of Frankfurt a. Main. |
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More Mud At Verna - We remained in the field, astride the route into the city, until March 31, when the company proceeded 55 miles to the rural community of Verna, passing through Offenbach to the outskirts of Frankfurt where we crossed the Main River on a recently constructed Bailey. All bridges along the route had been destroyed by retreating or now captured Krauts. Railroad yards had been hit hard and the destruction from the air was most extensive. The vehicles separated at a halt on the city streets and Lt. Wurst rode about until he succeeded in rounding up the stragglers who were directed to the bridge after some trucks had already moved across. Beyond Bad Nauheim, numerous refugees, shabbily attired, and carrying their worldly possessions in a box or sack, lined the road. Many were French and Russian nationals bound for some collecting point or displaced persons center to the rear. They crowded about us during a halt, anxious to obtain cigarettes or whatever food we might give them. Others were hauling carts loaded with their meager belongings, women and children who had fallen by the wayside after trudging mile after mile in the direction of their homeland. The migration of Germany's enforced labor hordes, starved to a degree of emaciation and near death, had begun a few days before.  Refugees homeward bound after liberation Liberated prisoners, still clad in their fantastic candy-striped, pajama-like apparel stood, for the most part, somewhat bewildered as we moved on. The events of recent days had been almost too much to cope with after four and five years of servitude and torture. They were the fortunate ones who had survived -- thousands lay in unmarked graves. We pitched our pup tents in the broad, green fields of Verna and remained here, in a downpour of rain, five days until April 5. The Hermanns were overhead each night and we feared the great array of vehicles dispersed upon the fields offered a juicy target from above. Other battalion units and new 76mm tanks, recently arrived from Ordnance depots, occupied adjoining terrain. Nineteen prisoners were taken from the area and we weren't informed of any danger which might lurk in the woods beyond us. However, it was soon made apparent when we observed a force of Krauts, in battalion strength, marching off under guard about a mile away. They had been in the area where they could see our troops and activity, but were now determined to surrender to infantry patrols scouring the hills. As we watched them march off to a PWE, we resumed the processing of the new tanks which had been allotted to the company. Easter Sunday may have been observed in splendor at home, but after brief church services for our men, all were engaged in the preparation of the new 76mm assault weapons for future events. Automotive platoons, Instrument, Small-Arms and Artillery personnel completed the work in record time. This was the company's most intensive period of operations since the Rhine crossing. One of several German trailers seized enroute was being converted into a "flying kitchen" or cooks' caravan, as Gladke gave his all. Ed worked like a demon and completed a fine car. But two weeks later all enemy vehicles and equipment were collected for disposal and his splendid work to make the cooks' labors more enjoyable passed unrewarded. Something was always happening to Gray and Schavoni. Their pup tents were consumed by a rapidly spreading fire, and Boots, Hogarth's mutt, was saved by her master who braved the flames to make a notable rescue. Schavoni dispensed with his field stove which started the blaze, learning a shelterhalf had to house either him or the stove. A family reunion in the field occurred when DeFilippo, section chief of an automotive maintenance platoon, met his nephew with the 385th Infantry Regiment as the latter's unit halted near our bivouac. The shop office had received a communication stating two tank destroyers had broken down in attempting to cross a river some miles away. The bridge had been destroyed but they had partially traversed a railroad trestle when they came to a stop. Lt. Bragg, Umbower and Givens took off from our encampment to determine if the vehicles could be evacuated to the shop area. It was dark as they moved along the track, but they suddenly observed eight Krauts moving on the opposite side. Neither group opened up, but the Heinies saw our men first and hurriedly ran off. The boys gave chase but lost them in the darkness -- they also lost their sense of direction and had some difficulty finding their way back to camp. Heavy rains the preceding three days made it almost impossible to remain in these fields and function advantageously. The tanks and trucks had mired down in the deep mud and we hoped to move on before all vehicles would have to be winched out. |
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In the City -- Mulhausen - On April 5, we clocked 82 miles through Homburg, Malsfeld and Melsungen, southeast of Kassel. We were halted on the way for several hours and assembled in battalion strength at Eschwege Airport, very recently cleared of opposition. Fighting was still going on less than a mile off and from the airstrip we could see a Cub plane overhead spotting the enemy positions. Artillery and small-arms fire was driving them out of the hills forming a backdrop to the landing field. Kobezak, Abbott and Younger had a German BC scope trained on the fracas and a number of men crowded around to get a close-up of the fleeing Krauts routed from their deep shelters. But there was a greater attraction in our midst. The deserted enemy administrative and living structures hadn't been destroyed and we moved through them room by room. The souvenirs and booty were considerable and rewarded all patient and thorough searchers -- flying suits, photographs, drawing sets, flags, guns, helmets and any variety of loot to satisfy a GI collector's passion and urge to get his hands on Nazi curios. The hunt was called to a close to everyone's regret and, with the road situation now under control, the column resumed its march. Mulhausen, one of the largest cities in Thuringia Province, had capitulated to division elements. As we passed through its streets it was difficult to believe war had come to this community. The homes and public buildings were intact, but flags of surrender fluttered from the windows. The residents had insured the survival of their houses by compelling the SS troops and garrison to evacuate the city limits. They needed little compulsion and withdrew from the city before armored units entered. But on the brick walls there still remained their warning, lying cries to the people: "Victory or Siberia" and "Rather Death Than Slavery." Billets were being established at Oberdorla, five miles beyond the city. We were instructed to enter any house near which we had parked the vehicles, and inform the residents firmly that we would occupy their homes for an indefinite period. Some people moved into the homes of neighbors, and other remained in the houses with us. They showed no outward resentment or hostility. Our personal weapons and 50 cal. "persuaders" mounted atop the trucks overcame their ill-will and they were more than pleased that their homes had been spared from destruction. We mounted a strong security guard almost at each street intersection and house that night. This had been our first occasion to billet in enemy homes, in the Fatherland, still occupied by German residents. But it had long been apparent that as we moved deeper into the country, the people chose to remain and not move on with the Nazi fighting units. The Volkssturm was proving itself only a figment of Hitler's warped mind. We were roused from our "beds" early the next morning at a burst of gunfire from some trucks parked in the street. A group of early risers spotted a lone Hermann over the town and cut loose at him. Those still lying half asleep, on tables, or on the floors jumped to their feet, grasping weapons and helmets frantically in the belief that an enemy tank had entered the town and was moving from house to house, firing inside. About 10 a.m. groups of civilians were running through the streets bound for a shoe factory which had been forced and was presently being looted of all its stock. Word spread like wildfire as agile housewives, aged men and kids returned to their homes with several pairs of shoes and rubber boots draped around their necks. We hadn't too much time and missed out on this treasure hunt. An industrial plant, camouflaged as a textile factory, stood a quarter of a mile from the town. Upon close examination by some of our boys, it was discovered that thousands of 81mm mortars had been manufactured there for the Nazi use. The buildings hadn't suffered from bomb or artillery fire and all machines and instruments remained in fine working condition. The men learned the plant had been moved a year before from the Baltic area to escape destruction on the Eastern Front. Now hundreds of French, Polish and Russian workers were preparing to depart for their homelands. A shop area couldn't very well be established in the streets of a German town thronged with natives and liberated workers from all over Europe. |
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Langensalza. Airport - We departed from Oberdorla April 6, and moved 23 miles to the vicinity of Langensalza. As we entered a huge airport, our tank units were still stationed about the perimeter of the field and before the hangars and administrative structures. The Krauts had been driven from the grounds and buildings two days before and some diehards still remained to be flushed out. Heaps of shattered and broken enemy small-arms weapons and ancient shotguns lay all about, but the buildings were undamaged. The rooms, shops and warehouses had been thoroughly worked over; valuable instruments and a huge store of mechanical devices, tools, paints, leather and airplane parts were seized for our use. The enemy had been taken by surprise here and scores of planes dotted the field -- adding to Hermann's heart condition. Some remained in the hangars and were removed to permit entry for our trucks, tanks and artillery pieces undergoing repair. All sections secured billets after clearing former Luftwaffe operational offices of furniture and a variety of records and files. The souvenir hunt was on again and kept pace with the housecleaning. The first evening of our arrival, shortly after chow, anti-aircraft batteries on the field went into action and we could see several enemy planes flying high overhead. Vehicles mounting the .50's were moved to the hangar entrances and all guns pointed skyward. Any low-flying intruder was bound to get a hot reception And they did get it! For the next four days they droned above singly or in groups of two or three on sixteen occasions. From the outset we awaited their arrival just after chow time and they were certain to appear as if by pre-arranged schedule. On several occasions they dropped anti-personnel bombs in the hangar area, but no damage or casualties were inflicted. The guns were manned at all times as they circled the field seeking a target, but the almost constant burst of our fire kept them off. However, one evening about 8 p.m. we were almost caught flatfooted as a jet-propelled job swept in low at hangartop level. A few seconds before a tank was set afire, and many thought the plane had knocked it out of action. Captain Johns and M/Sgt. Lambert were working close to the turret to extinguish the blaze when Hermann swooped down over them. They fell flat, fearing this was the end. But he was gone in a flash of fire. About the third day, after we had become firmly established as proficient aerial gunners, having fired more ammunition than at any other time during the war, we witnessed a magnificent spectacle from above. An almost endless sky-train of C-47 cargo planes were utilizing the base to land sorely needed supplies of gas and food rations. They appeared out of the west in groups of six to twelve, circled wide over the field, and came in for a landing. Special crews and a fleet of trucks stood by to transport the valuable freight. The ground forces had thrust so rapidly through Germany that supplies were unable to keep pace with them overland. Thousands of cases of K rations and more thousands of five-gallon gas cans lined the field as the planes, row upon row, prepared to depart for additional loads.  C-47's land the pay load They were flying fully loaded from a point somewhere near Paris, nearly 400 miles west, and many were completing two trips per day. On the return flight, some carried recently liberated English officers and soldiers who crowded the field seeking passage out of Germany. The entire company at one time or another photographed the carriers and swapped tall tales and souvenirs with the pilots, most of whom were anxious to learn if any enemy aircraft appeared over the field. Those making early flights soon had their answer when they watched us putting the Nazi raiders to flight. Lovera, standing by and admiring the cargo operations of the airmen, was taken by surprise to discover an old acquaintance from home -- now a C-47 pilot. The latter suggested a ride to Ernie, but this was beyond Ordnance routine and the offer was turned down. One morning an enemy plane appeared to be coming in for a landing far out on the field. As his wheels were lowered and almost touched the ground, someone opened up at him. Almost instantaneously the plane hurled itself into the air and was gone. A concensus [consensus] of opinion had it that he was bent on surrendering to us. During the nine-day halt at Langensalza, a German force had counter-attacked and had been repulsed a few miles away. The road was temporarily blocked until our infantry and armor cleared the way, putting an end to the resistance. But the roads were still subject to strafing. Lt. Lewis and "Cowboy" Wiedlich, his peep driver, had a lucky escape as they joined a column on their way to our base. The lieutenant was struck by fragments of an anti-personnel bomb which ripped through his outer clothing above the heart. Miraculously he was unhurt but somewhat shaken in nerve. Hogarth, enroute to Mulhausen for gas, was struck in the eye by fragments of stone when the road was strafed by a lone Nazi circling over the traffic jammed on the main supply route. The injury was slight and "Hoagy" received the Purple Heart. A group of men including Seefeld, Clinger, Register, Freida, Watson, Marquard and Kamprnier had been attached to Trains Headquarters for eight days. They returned from Frankfurt with new vehicles, expecting to be relieved and rejoin the company. They didn't realize it then, but their work was just beginning. Desperately in need of gas, the line forces were at a temporary halt until the supplies flown in could be received. The boys were instructed to load their vehicles with the recently landed cargo and deliver it direct to our combat units occupying the sector from Mulhausen east to Zeitz. Enroute with 777 AA tracks in support, they were strafed but reached their destination without mishap. The gas was unloaded, but there was more work of equal urgency and importance.  Some of the load bound for the front With an additional fleet of 15 trucks, they were to haul nearly 2,000 Krauts from the divisional PWE to a greater enclosure further to the rear. "Ghosty" transported a load of German Wacs but didn't have time to determine if their training was similar to our native variety. Upon returning to division headquarters at Mulhausen, they were reloaded with reinforcements -- raw recruits -- bound for line units. Three trucks lost the column, and the men decided to stop over for the night. Entering a former Nazi headquarters building, the new men had their baptism of action when the group seized a former German radio operator and his wife, attired in civilian clothing. They had been hiding out in the cellar which, upon further search, revealed enemy equipment of great value. At last their work was completed and they returned to the airport. A considerable amount of German canned food-stuffs, preserves, and confections was seized in a large warehouse upon the premises. Scores of former slaveworkers living in the area had already helped themselves in a mad scramble for the Luftwaffe delicacies but there was enough for the battalion's use. Marsh was working in a tank when he was told his name had been drawn for a 30-day furlough to the States. It was assumed that he prepared for a flight in a returning C-47, as far as Paris, but we later learned he flew along the Autobahn in a 6X6. Tempone, his close buddy, reported that Marsh boarded a transport carrying German prisoners to the States. The ship was at sea when hostilities ended and she turned about, heading for a French port. But we're certain he did beat us home. The death of President Roosevelt struck us as a great personal loss. Political differences were forgotten and all avowed a determination to carry out the principles the Commander-in-Chief had set forth, and conclude the battle. |
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In The Field At Stollsdorf - On April 15, the company was on its longest one-day march into Germany as we raced into the central part of the country, covering 121 miles to the vicinity of Stollsdorf. We passed through the industrial city of Zeitz and traversed a span across the Elster River erected by our engineers. All bridges had been destroyed and that single pontoon span was bearing the stream of traffic moving east to positions south of Leipzig. Groups of American soldiers, captured in the Ardennes salient, and British Tommies, some captives for five years, all recently liberated, cheered us on the way. We moved ahead of the 76th Infantry Division and prepared to bivouac on the extensive farmland. The company remained here nine days engaged in work upon a number of vehicles and weapon as the line elements of the division were almost at the Czech border. Movies were shown at a public theatre in Rochlitz, and due to the deep eastern zone now controlled by the division, world famous correspondents could be seen roving the streets in hopes of getting a scoop on first contact with the Russians. The sands of time were running out for the Nazis. An observation tower, high in the woods overlooking our bivouac across the road, warranted an investigation, so Lts. Lewis and White and Weidlich were determined to visit the structure. Having completed their reconnaissance, they decided to return to the encampment. As they moved through the dense woods, they were fired upon. Unable to ascertain the enemy's position, Lt. White and Wiedlich emptied 200 rounds of carbine ammunition which pinned the Jerries down, while Lt. Lewis maneuvered the peep. The latter's helmet was creased in this, his second lucky escape of the month. Infantry patrols later combed the woods, firing away as we observed them from across the road, in what was the last major activity against the enemy. Lt. White and Rodgers, his peep driver, had chosen this farmland for our bivouac and shop area. As they returned to inform the company already enroute from the airport, a fragment of shrapnel punctured a tire. They had some difficulty removing the wheel when an infantry officer offered one of his own and advised them to "get the hell off the road." On another lonesome trip from the bivouac, they were told some Krauts were in the vicinity, hiding in a house not more than 300 yards from them. Lt. White, unaware of their force, if any at all, yelled for them to come out. Rodgers fired a round in the air and a young Nazi infantryman appeared with his hands flung wildly above his had. He was the sole captive and was taken to the PWE. Rodgers obtained a pistol for his efforts and thereafter presented it to "Bull" Umbower. (Could it have been demanded?) Johnny Murphy, who had been cooking chickens for some of the Evacuation Section at halts along the road, shot up a village on one occasion, scaring the hell out of a new infantry outfit which had been there four days. James Kinney's brother came upon him one night, asking directions to Tempone's truck and his brother. Jim, not recognizing his brother in the darkness, directed him to the vehicle. You couldn't see a hand before your eyes in the total blackout. First hand news from their home town, Pittsburgh, Pa., was related to Makstutis, Machika, Adams and Kissel, when a fellow "hometowner," attached to the 86th Recon, came into the camp for repairs to his armored car. He had left the States only 30 days before and the boys crowded around this "civilian" observer with a keen ear for home tidings. Jack McKee assumed the rank of acting first sergeant in the absence of Woody Gatlin, then recovering from illness. Mac had some uneasy moments adjusting himself to the quiet routine of administrative detail after having directed the ever-active Service Section. Pee Wee Anglemyer had more than his feelings bruised while at work here one day. He was struck on the nose by one of the boys wielding a sledge hammer on an elusive tank. To add to his misery, he almost set himself aflame while firing an improvised stove to ward off cool April winds. Some tankers rushed to the rescue, saving him from serious injury. Berstecher was able to forget his army woes momentarily one morning and had a good laugh when Gladke, ever in a hurry, began to brush his teeth with shaving cream. Chance meetings with old acquaintances were usual occurrences and Fountain swapped stories and combat experiences with a former schoolmate from Schenectady, N. Y. We were sorry to see Waller, Schoenberger and Murphy leave the company, but transferred to Military Government units, they departed one evening on very short notice. During the entire route of march which extended through five campaigns, only one company vehicle had been deadlined as a result of mechanical failure and was now undergoing repair. The high standard of performance of the 6 X 6 and shop trucks was a tribute to the splendid preventative maintenance and inspection checks of the Second Echelon Section consisting of Lt. Lewis, S/Sgt. Loschiavo and T/5's Dombrowski, Gray and Mooney. A short trip of six miles was completed the morning of April 24, as we moved onto a well hidden emergency fighter strip in the woods, two miles north of Geithane where division administrative offices had been established. The entire company crowded into a one-story frame building, and once again we were making a home. The preparation of a number of meals was due to the efforts of our sharp-eyed hunters, who on several occasions before had taken to the wilds for big game. With the kitchen as low as ever on rations, our valiant woodsmen, WO Patterson, Lambert and Jack White, bagged ten deer on one of Goering's verboten game reservations. Juicy venison steaks were in order and the cooks revelled in at last having something to work with. They were as thoroughly unhappy opening and sorting 10-in-1 rations as we were in eating them. |
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V-E -- At Altenburg Airport - Trains elements and our battalion units had already occupied the Altenburg Airport when we joined them April 26. The hangars, living quarters and operational structures were hardly visible from the road. A thick forest lined either side of the route, and we remarked that this installation was one of the most cleverly concealed and camouflaged bases we had yet entered. Scores of charred and destroyed Hermanns littered the woods where vain efforts had been made in a last futile attempt to conceal fighter and trainer craft. Many more were scattered near the hangars and on the vast field. The once-vaunted Luftwaffe, unable to take to the sky when its gas stores had become depleted, inflicted a last mortal blow to its own equipment our air forces hadn't yet destroyed.  Destroyed enemy fighters at Altenburg airport The former barracks which housed the elite student fliers and personnel were thoroughly cleaned of the last vestiges of Nazi life and we prepared the most favorable billets since leaving Merlebach, in the Saar. Modern toilet facilities and showers were utilized to the greatest advantage, and numerous truck loads of coal were acquired direct from the cars at Altenburg to keep the fires roaring for the hot water we had lacked in the field. Some planes still housed in the hangars were removed by wreckers and the floor space cleared for our vehicles. Intense preparations were underway to clean and repair all rolling equipment. Excess material in trailers and trucks was discarded and all personal equipment was inspected for the first time since leaving England. Numerous pyramidal tents of a large evacuation hospital covered one end of the field. Many of its patients were recently liberated Allied soldiers in need of hospitalization after years of a starvation diet and enforced labor. Colonel McBride, Chief of Staff, had fallen heir to the mobile field headquarters designed for General Grow at Nancy. But Smitley and Gladke were already engaged in constructing the final and most improved model for the General. By now they had become specialists in this caravan work, and Sgt. Roberts explained they were expending every effort in the completion of "a super command post, for a super man, directing a super division." News of the cessation of hostilities in the ETO came to us early in the morning of May 7, but there was no great outburst of enthusiasm among the men such as had greeted the announcement of the termination of World War I. There was another conflict still raging in what was no longer the distant Pacific. Life at Altenburg now settled down to the routine pattern of daily garrison activity. Ceremonial retreat formations were observed for the first time on enemy soil, and if the Krauts hadn't been impressed before they would surely be overwhelmed by the spit and polish demonstrations -- the green fatigues were discarded for the woolen OD's which had appeared heretofore on rare occasions, and Schoolfield removed his luscious growth of lip brush he had cultivated through five countries. The war was definitely at an end. Movies and a taproom, installed in a recreation building where the student flyers had revelled, were frequented by most of the men on the post. Lt. Shaffer, Turner, Givens, McGill and Woods returned some 250 miles to the vicinity of Frankfurt with their prime movers to recover a tank the crew of which had been reported lost in action. They not only retrieved the tank, but discovered the crew very much alive and anxious to rejoin their unit. The men had been living in royal style for almost a month and this was too much for them.  Prime mover ready to leave the airport Lt. Wurst was officer of the day, when a Hermann came in early one morning. Guards around the base and gunners in ack-ack positions - they had maintained their posts despite the cease firing order -- held their fire because they were aware of the situation. Later they explained in detail their reasons for not firing. "It was a trainer, it carried no armament, the wheels were down, and every pilot carries a pistol." Upon interrogation, Lt. Wurst learned that the pilot had formerly been an instructor on this field for a number of years, and his reason for alighting here was similar to the song and dance we had heard so many times before -- to escape the Russians. Late in the afternoon the next day, another Nazi plane swept out of the sky and the pilot gave himself up, thereby saving his hide -- he also had flown in from the east. With the cares and dangers of war temporarly [temporarily] at an end, our thought turned to amorous interludes. Two gallant sons of Ordnance, Makstutis and Galosi, had become acquainted with two very sweet Polish refugees, (note: we use the word "refugee" advisedly) who were acting as guides for the boys gallivanting about the woodside. The curfew falling upon them unnoticed, the girls naturally began to worry about returning alone. Our two gay caballeros were roped in, and by dodging road patrols, security guards and officers then intent upon enforcing (?) the anti-nature, non-fraternization policy, (we intended to make the frauleins hurt) they made their way across the fields. Several times they had to go down on all fours to avoid detection. As they reached the girls' homes, a howling dog scared the hell out of them. A softball diamond was marked off on the field, and our athletes unlimbered themselves under the watchful eye of Lt. Lewis, athletic officer, and "Tex" Houston, team manager. Bessel, Turner, Ladzinski, Revnyak, Kobezak, Keeley, Smale, Waara, Boeder, Rachwal, Guidetti, Lovera, Stanley, Pincher and Nelson were preparing themselves for a rigorous schedule and all-winning performances against battalion and division units. Devotees of the more strenuous sport -- horseshoe pitching -- were Shelton, Johnson, Lambert, Redmond, Zemsta, Sigmon, Henry and Roberts. These boys hurled a mighty missile and Sigmon was generally considered tops in the company. We often wondered if they could toss a grenade as skillfully if the occasion had ever demanded such drastic action. The liberal policy of Paris passes and Continental furlough drawings aroused fever-pitch interest in all, but at the outset only a few were lucky to have their names drawn. Pete "GI" Prorok won the first Riviera trip, thereafter to be followed by Jack Gerew. The boys travelled by truck and train over 1300 miles for seven days of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Some weeks later, "Foxie-Loxie" Fox flew from Weimar to bask in the sun of a Riviera respite and photograph Nice from all angles and positions. Lt. Krebaum and "Whitey" Oberheu left for United Kingdom (England to you guys) furloughs where they made the fatal plunge and discarded their mantle of bachelorhood -- they took unto themselves wives. After coming through the war unscathed! The Signal Company Radio Maintenance team, which had been attached to our unit for so long, left us at Altenburg after compiling a splendid record of performance and service. We bid fond adieu to Master Sgt. Joseph DePaul, T/4's Miller, Crawford and Curley and T/5's Jones, McCampbell and Byrne. Our journey was not yet terminated. From the three-weeks shelter and welcome refuge of the Altenburg Airport, the company moved 70 miles west into field bivouac in the vicinity of Kotschau, Germany, May 14. An administrative bivouac, the first in the ETO, was quickly established, as pup tents were lined up for a stay of four days. Clear weather and a hot sun overhead had almost the entire company personnel engaged in some form of athletic activity and body-building pursuit -- Capt. Johns, now proficient on the Ocarina, retired to adjacent woods to blare forth on his trumpet like Harry James. |