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A French "Home" - Nancy, the French city with the feminine name, into which the company pulled the evening of September 27 after a 30-mile march from Martigny, became almost a French "home" to the men. They stayed at the airport just five miles east of the center of the city for a month and a half, their longest period in one place since England, and through frequent short passes, had opportunity to become well acquainted with the town. The Place Stanislaus, Cathedral, Rue de Dames, as well as the Red Cross establishment, G. I. theatre and the town's various night clubs, all the way up and down the scale, became familiar to the company's personnel, and many made friends among the French population. Despite the passes to town, the USO show with Marlene Dietrich and movies available almost nightly at the airport, the stay at Nancy cannot properly be called a rest period, although, measured by the recreational facilities available, it was, in comparison with what had gone before and that which was to come. Although the whole division was together for the first time since the Brest drive, not a day passed without one or more of its combat units on the line against the Germans who were only a few miles east of the airport. Consequently, vehicles were sustaining combat damage and undergoing wear and tear all the time at Nancy, and were being brought in large numbers to shops of all companies. "B" Company frequently worked night and day on tanks and other combat vehicles, especially during preparation for the big drive which jumped off November 8. |
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Production Line - During those preparations, a big job handled by the company was the fabrication and welding of "duck bills" to the tracks of tanks in order that they might get better traction in the deep mud which hampered all military operations at the time. Channel iron was hauled from a mill at Nancy to the airport in company trucks where just about every man who could use a cutting torch or do arc welding was put to work cutting the duck bills from the channel iron and welding them to the tracks of tanks in CCB which the company was to follow in the forthcoming offensive. This went on day and night, men who worked all night catching their sleep in the daytime, beginning November 2 and finishing the last tank well in time for the division's cheduled [scheduled] jump-off. Although German planes were over nightly at Nancy, and some bombs were dropped around the city, none ever fell on the airport while the company was there.  Mud and ruins of the Nancy airport Consequently, little care was taken to hide the light from the night welding of duckbills when the pressure was on for speed. Sometimes while planes were overhead during the welding, operations would be halted to keep the searchlight-like glare out of the sky, but there were times when the Heinie planes up there in the darkness would be ignored, and the welders would go right on with their work despite the flashes and beams of brilliant light which could be seen for miles in the night. While at the airport, personnel of the company were awakened in the middle of the night on several occasions by German railway guns shelling the city. Audible would be both the report of the gun itself and a loud explosion as the huge shell landed in Nancy to tear a big hole in the ground or demolish a residence. No war-important damage was caused by this shelling. Nancy meant no rest for members of Evacuation Section whose prime movers were being used in support of the 15th Tank Battalion. Two of these movers at a time would be sent to the 15th where they would stay four days to evacuate vehicles from the line to the company shops for repairs. On one of these trips to recover two knocked-out German tanks for target practice, a lineman stopped the two big movers to tell the Evacuation men that they could go no further along that road because of German shelling. No sooner had he delivered the information than the Germans came through with the proof, dropping three shells up the road about 100 yards ahead of the first prime mover. Firmly convinced that the lineman knew what he was talking about, the Evacuation men took a detour around the "impact" area, recovered the two German tanks, and brought them back. It was at Nancy that the roster of Evacuation Section was increased by five when their dog, Maggie, gave birth to quintuplets.  "Maggie's" quintuplet family at Henriville |
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Reunion - This French city meant many things to the various men, but to the Brothers Nickolauk it was a reunion spot. PFC Michael Nickolauk, in the company since the desert, had not seen his brother, William, since leaving the States in February of 1944. So, when Cpl. Vincent Beagles, company clerk, came into the Parts Issue hangar one night and asked, "'Would you like to see your brother?" Mike was considerably surprised. "Sure," he answered, wondering why Beagles asked the question. It was after dark, and at Nancy the hangars could not be blacked out, so there was no light. "Well," Beagles told Mike, "here he is!" From the darkness, he produced Brother William. In a replacement depot near Nancy, William had heard that his brother's battalion was at the airport, and had come to see Mike. He stayed a day or two before returning to the replacement depot. A few days later, he returned for another short visit. Then a week went by with no further communication between the two. One morning Chuck Weiks called Mike into the CP, and detailed him to go with Mail Clerk Harold Harbry to assist in picking up the mail at Administration Center. When Chuck sent Mike with the mail clerk, he knew that the mail truck also would pick up a replacement for the company -- Brother William. William had told officials of the replacement depot that his brother was in the 128th at the airport, and had repeated the story at Administration Center. The army, for once, considered the desires of an enlisted man, and sent William to his brother's company. |
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Sunday Drive - During a Sunday drive made by the 15th Tank Battalion northeast of Nancy, Tech. Sgt. Clark drove a mineroller out of a spot, where German shells were landing, to the rear for repair. The 25th Engineers were supporting the attack, waiting just back of the line with three minerollers which were to be used in case the tanks ran into minefields which had to be neutralized. The left final drive of one of the rollers was leaking oil, and Lt. Foster, in charge of the Evacuation men, was ordered by Major Stiteler to bring it back to a spot where men could work on it. Lined up along a road about a mile from Jeandelincourt were the three minerollers, three GMC trucks and a halftrack, all placed there by the Engineers. Coming across the road and landing in an adjacent field were German artillery shells, possibly thrown at a crossroads very near which the vehicles were parked. Climbing into the mineroller, Clark quickly maneuvered it out of its parking place and around the crossroads -- a difficult job which the Engineeers [Engineers] admired -- and took it back about two miles where he and his crew tried to stop the oil leak by tightening bolts, but that didn't work, so they left the roller there. Coming back to the place where the Engineers were waiting, the Evacuation men found one of the GMC trucks almost completely wrecked by shellfire and a lieutenant, to whom they had been talking before leaving with the roller, suffering from shrapnel wounds in his shoulder. |
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Airport Memories - A feature of the stay at the Nancy airport was the loft, in which many Platoon Headquarters men holed up at night. Consisting of a ceiling or roof over City Hall below, where the officers, the first sergeant, master sergeant, mail clerk, others of the "inner sanctum" and the company clerk slept on makeshift bunks, it was covered with straw by the Platoon Headquarters men who called it home, going and coming by means of a ladder. City Hall and the loft ran the entire length of one end of the hangar used as a shop by Platoon Headquarters. Although the loft was atop City Hall, which had electric lights at night, a generator running for that purpose, there was no illumination up there except that which sifted. through holes in the hangar roof from the autumn moon. When German planes buzzed overhead as they did nightly, there would be a scramble for the single ladder leading to the cement hangar floor about nine feet below. This usually would begin with rustles in the straw and a few footsteps when that peculiar fluttering hum of the Luftwaffe drew near, and would increase to a mad rush over the straw-covered board floor as the first ack-ack fire crashed out.  Camouflaged German pillbox Several times men on the loft heard a terrific thump on the hangar floor below as someone either missed the ladder in the darkness or simply didn't bother with it. But never did anyone admit being that person, and never was any unconscions [unconscious] form or maimed body found on the floor as a result of the drop. The straw on which the men had spread their bedrolls on the loft made the best sleeping facilities they had enjoyed in France, but as November days came and the wind howled nightly through holes in the roof and walls of the hangar, the loft became a little cool for sleeping, and when the company moved out on November 11, the "lofters" were ready for something different. Inhabitants of the loft were T-3 Joseph Shaw, assistant section chief; T-3's Harmon E. Smith, Earl B. Hudgins, "Pappy" Gregory, Leroy Schultz and Carl J. McMichael; T-4's Laurence E. Redner, Earl W. Muehl, Paul W. Davis, Joseph L. Manocchio, Robert L. Peck and T-5's James D. Wyrick, John J. Wolanyk and Wesley T. Smith. Room was made for two more up there when T-5 Robert M. Lytle and Cpl. James S. Lintz, replacements, joined the company at Nancy early in October. Also coming to the organization in October was T-5 Alfred R. Bachtold, a Medic, to replace Pvt. John Dohanos Jr., the former company Medic who was transferred to "A" Company. Before leaving Nancy, a miniature City Hall was boarded up and inhabited at one end of the loft by T-3 Howard "Bones" Faulkner, T-4 Oral C. Eiklor, T-5's Jake Pastuszak and Lou Poznick and PFC Anthony J. Chioccarelli. One of the busiest of all men during the sojourn at Nancy was T-5 Rudy Stoermer who had his canvas and leather-sewing shop set up in a corner of the Platoon Headquarters hangar. There, an apparently endless stream of tents of all descriptions and some beyond description poured in to be patched, altered and even manufactured by Rudy. During the campaign across France, canvas and tarps had suffered heavily from field use, and advantage was being taken at Nancy of an opportunity to get all tents in good shape for whatever might be coming next. No one had hopes in those days of being quartered under roofs, even leaky ones, for long. The result was that Rudy spent all working hours at his sewing machine, wrestling heavy, dirty canvas. He also did much sewing on bedroll canvas and other personal belongings of the men and officers of the company. It was here that PFC Alphonsus J. Mingione, the company "Lover" and artist on the piano and accordion, was stopped cold by a beautiful French blonde to whom he spoke wistfully but passionately in English one day while sitting in the rear of a stopped truck between the airport and the city. To his great surprise, the blonde came back, also in English, with a suggestion which made Mingione's lurid remarks pale by comparison. Completely stopped for once, the "Lover" subsided in his seat with no further words. P. S. The dialog, unfortunately, will not stand cleaning, and certainly cannot be printed as spoken! Two of the biggest men in the company were Tech. Sgt. Carroll E. Stokell and Sgt. Franklin L. Westphal. Stoky stood six feet, three inches, in height, and weighed 210, according to latest available reports, while Westphal, man-sized in his own right but only a boy beside his section chief, Stoky, was six feet, one inch tall, and made the scale say an even 200 pounds. They combined their stock of brain and brawn in the heavy tank work of the Second Maintenance Section, and consequently they usually were to be found holed up in the same "chateau" during bivouacs. Such was the case at the bombed-out airport just east of Nancy, France, from September 27, 1944, until November 11, 1944. From the very first here, enemy planes were overhead every night, and as more and more ack-ack, artillery was brought up, the noise and fireworks display got better and better. It hit a new climax the night of October 18 when some 90mm anti-aircraft guns, recently brought to the airport, added their building-shaking crash and white flashes to the general red, white and noisy nocturnal scene about 2 a.m. With the first blast of the first 90, Stoky, from a corner of the roughly-boarded room in the Second Maintenance garage, called out, "Frank!" to Comrade Westphal, and hit the floor with the word. But Westphal needed no call; he too was up and running. The door of the room, in accordance with that annoying European custom especially prevalent in Belgium and France, was small, and Stoky and Westphal hit it simultaneously, wedging themselves tightly. There they struggled and squirmed while the bedlam of ack-ack vied in intensity with the roar of German planes overhead. No bombs came though, and finally the jam was broken, both men getting free for a sprint through the flash-broken blackness of the night to the safety of an air-raid shelter over 100 yards away. |
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"Bishop's Hand Laundry" - A "character" of the company was Pvt. Lloyd O. "Bing" Bishop, a man of many talents and occasional energy. In one of his longest energetic stretches, "Bing" was a boon to the company through his operation of the "Bishop Hand Laundry" which had its inauguration at Nancy, growing from one five-gallon can out beside one of the shattered hangars to a huge kettle capable of boiling half the company's clothes at once. The latter, Bing had in use everywhere he was located until he went out of business at Chateau Salins where he announced to all customers -- practically everyone in the company -- that he had made "all the money he needed." During the gruelling days of the fall and winter campaign, when no Quartermaster laundry facilities were available, Bing kept the company in clean coveralls, underwear, socks and OD's, laboring daily over his boiling water, soap, gasoline and drying improvisations. And it must be recorded in his favor that he did a far better job of returning each man's clothing than the Quartermaster laundry ever did. The only drawback to Bing's system during the winter was his occasional trick of returning clothes wet, an act which created many a problem as men, crowded in some private home or holed up in a damp basement, contemplated a pile of very wet clothing and wondered just what in hell to do about it. The advantage of Bing's service, however, far outweighed its inconvenience, and every man and officer was very glad to pay his low rate to have dirty clothes converted into clean ones without muss, fuss or bother, except occasionally for the drying.  "Bing" boils a batch at Eschweiler His talent, which pleased and entertained his fellow soldiers on many an impromptu occasion, was that for which he was nicknamed, singing. Delivered through a megaphone from the kitchen truck for the benefit of the chowline or simply carrying through quarters in the evening, it was on a professional level -- and easy to get. By no means bashful, Bing was never loath to "give," answering all requests. Another talent which he sought to develop with fluctuating degrees of success was that for handling the dice. Always ready and willing in this project was "the old master," Oliver Ayers. |
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Prime Mover Problems - November days of mud and rain brought trouble in large lots for the ponderous prime movers, adding to their ordinary woes. In the departure from Nancy, the company leaving the airport the afternoon of November 11, the movers had to fall behind the rest of the convoy because of the narrow and muddy roads on which the big vehicles were unable to travel. Their troubles began in crossing the Seille river at Nomeny shortly after the departure from Nancy. There, the mover crews, upon orders of Engineers in charge of a Bailey bridge, had to get out in the rain and mud to chain up the inside wheels of each of the huge trailers before they could cross the bridge. To avoid tying up traffic along the road to Flocourt from Nancy, the movers stayed at Bechy while the rest of the company proceeded to Eply and from there to Flocourt on November 13. The road was narrow, and various service units were bivouacked along it, their vehicles parked along the highway because of the soggy condition of the fields. Bringing the slow movers along such a route would have resulted in a considerable tie-up of necessary military traffic. While at Bechy, Evacuation had one of its bad times with a tank which gave them more than one headache. It also gave them a close-up look at the Third Army's commander, Lt. Gen. George S. Patton. After hours of hard work, they succeeded in hauling the tank out of the mud, and were towing it to Bechy behind the tractor of one of the movers when the tank got out of control on a slick spot in the road and slid into a ditch, pulling the rear of the trailer with it. While the Evacuation men were trying to get tank and tractor out of ditch, using two movers and another tank, a peep stopped beside them. On it were three stars, and in it was Patton. Noticing that the men wore no overshoes, the general asked if their feet were not wet and cold. The answer, of course, was "yes," and Gen. Patton expressed his displeasure in their lack of overshoes. The company end of the conversation was carried on by Lts. Young and Foster who were with the Evacuation men. The following day, the tank finally came out of the ditch -- persuaded by all three movers and a tank-recovery vehicle. From there, it was carried to Flocourt on one of the prime movers.  "The following day the tank came out" But Evacuation was not yet through with this troublesome tank, for three days later, they had to take it back to Nancy. As the mover, driven by T-5 Ben Verdin, bearing the tank, pulled onto a Bailey bridge near Nancy, blocks holding the tank to the mover trailer broke, and it promptly rolled off the trailer to tie up the bridge and the main supply route to [t]he front for several hours. When that tank finally was delivered at Nancy, the Evacuation men left it with the hope that they never had to lay eyes on it again. At Bechy, one of the movers got the job of evacuating a medium tank, which had been used with a mineroller, to Etaine. Driven by Hoyle "One-Gear" Regan, the mover had as its crew PFC Jesse Wagner, T-4 Leslie A. Harding, Staff Sgt. Ralph Helmkamp, T-4 Ulysses H. Phipps and T-5 Walter A. Small. Small did not get very far however, for a few miles out of Bechy, he stuck his head out of the turret of the tank in which he was riding just in time to catch a wire with his face. Inflicting a cut, the wire also threw him against the rear of the turret, bruising him considerably and necessitating his return to the medics at Bechy. But by missing the rest of the trip he was saved a bad scare which the rest of the mover crew experienced. Near Toul, as the mover was chugging along the highway, giving no one a bit of trouble -- for once -- the hydraulic steering apparatus suddenly ceased to function. Before "One-Gear," spinning the uselees steering wheel, could get the big vehicle stopped, it plunged over an embankment, threw the tank from the trailer, and turned on its side. No one in the mover or tank was hurt. There was nothing secret about the offensive which preceded the company's move from Nancy. Everyone was talking about the big day for almost a week before it arrived, and just in advance of the jump-off of the division's combat elements on November 9, German positions were plastered with bombs from more than 1,000 planes. This pounding force was composed of several aerial fleets which men of the company watched bore in from different directions to converge on their target. |
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Eply - Everyone was packed and ready to move when the order to do so came on the afternoon of November 11, and the convoy pulled out of the Nancy airfield in a cold rain to make its way over muddy, shrapnel-filled roads to the small town of Eply which had been evacuated by civilians. There, in partially destroyed homes and barns, men holed up for the night when the company stopped at 6:45 p.m. Dead cows and horses and other "props" of war were all around, and working conditions during the two days spent at Eply were very difficult because of the mud and cold weather which were to prevail until spring. The first night there was an especially cold one for Leroy Schultz who, wandering around in complete blackout in new territory, fell into a well, going in as far as his armpits before managing to halt his descent. Climbing the stone sides of the narrow well, he was pulled out by Joe Shaw. Having had difficulty finding rooms in which to sleep because they arrived after dark, many men were surprised the next morning when daylight revealed that they had spent the night in the close proximity of a dead horse or cow which had been stricken in its stable by Man's war. At Eply, Second Echelon was the busiest part of the company because of a great number of flat tires caused by shrapnel along the roads travelled by the company vehicles. Almost every truck in the organization had at least one flat, and many had more. During the two nights and a day there, Second Echelon men fixed exactly 108 flat tires. The Parts Issue truck carrying tires and tubes was parked next to the Second Echelon Section, and all available peep and 2 1/2-ton tires and tubes were used. |
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First Snow - On the way from Eply to Flocourt, where the company arrived at 9:40 a.m. November 13 after starting early that morning on the 16.4-mile trip, the first snow of the coming winter season was encountered. Also on this trip, it was necessary to pass over a five-mile stretch of road which was under artillery fire from big guns in the German fort system at Metz where bitter fighting was going on. Orders were that no halts be made on this section of road, located west of Luppy, for any reason and that a 25 m.p.h. speed be maintained. The column negotiated the ticklish stretch in safety. Seen for the first time on this journey were numbers of dummy tanks used by the Germans evidently to draw artillery fire and possibly bombs where neither could hurt the Heinies. Placed in fields and at crossroads, they were made of wood on wagon frames so they could be set up as decoys anywhere the Germans might want them. Seeing Engineers, Medics and other units bivouacked in snow-covered puptents along the road, many men shivered in the damp cold, supposing that the same fate was in store for them. However, in the dingy, muddy little town of Flocourt, the convoy halted, and they found themselves rooms in evacuated homes which struck like islands out of a sea of mud and manure. |
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G. I. Stoves and Pipe - It was here that a scene, which was to be as much a part of the G. I.'s all winter as their steel helmets and their dogs, had its beginning: makeshift stovepipes sticking through broken windows and holes in walls wherever soldiers sought shelter from the elements. Because of the difficulty of finding genuine stovepipe and the necessity to make miscellaneous stoves draw under all conditions of wind and rain, no two such contrivances were alike. Each of a different diameter and length, they protruded at all angles from windows, roofs and walls, even from cellar windows, and some of the anti-wind and rain contrivances at the ends of the pipes were marvellous to behold. Everything was used: round tin cans, with and without holes punched in the sides, gallon cans, square coffee cans from the kitchen and even cardboard boxes. From then on, stoves became harder to find, as soldiers took those they found along with them from area to area, and home-made heaters began to blossom. Burning either coal or wood, these contraptions, to the surprise even of those who made them, worked. At first, they were constructed mostly from five-gallon cans, but all sorts of improvements were to come with experience, and by the end of the winter, a model had become almost standard. Made by welding together two steel mortar-shell containers, it would do an excellent job of heating the biggest rooms, and was easily carried, being compact and light. At Flocourt, the war had closed in all around the company. American artillery was firing from positions around the town, making day and night noisy with its booming, and enemy pockets were to the rear on both sides of the area. The front line itself, on the day the company moved into one end of the small village, was only a mile out of the [village?]  "Nancy" in Henriville From the pockets of enemy to the rear, American planes would draw flak as they flew over, and men could watch the black bursts against the grey sky. The town was full of helmets, gasmasks and other paraphernalia of war left very recently by the Germans. Snow did not remain long on the ground, and rain replaced it as the daily fare. |
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Mud and Manure - Duckbills, welded to tank tracks at Nancy, were helpful, but still the mud and fierce enemy resistance made the going rough for armor, and combat vehicles crowded the "shop" which consisted of a muddy, manure-bound courtyard. Work began to come in as soon as the company arrived, and there was not an idle moment for men of the automotive and maintenance sections who spent the hours from daylight until dark working in the cold mud and filth trying to keep abreast of the incoming stream of broken-down or knocked-out vehicles. Then, with darkness, rest and shelter were not for everyone. Many of he [the] same men who had labored under almost impossible working conditions throughout the day would find themselves with nothing to which to look forward but a cold, miserable night of guard.  "Shop" at Flocourt It was at Flocourt that the rank and file were issued galoshes -- a welcome addition to the G. I. wardrobe. Also issued here were combat trousers, but there never were combat jackets for the great majority of the men who needed them, and neither were there more than a comparative few combat helmets for the men. While on a mission from Flocourt to recover a medium tank west of Metz and take it to a collecting point south of that embattled city, Otto C. "Booby Trap" Neuman acquired a Czech pistol and a fine pair of ten-power German binoculars. Taking a short reconnaissance trip in the vicinity of the Nied river east of Metz where fighting had been bitter and where German mines still were prevalent, Otto found two lifeless German soldiers. A hundred yards beyond them, he came upon a dead German officer from whom he took his "loot." "Nancy," a standout in a long list of canine mascots, one of the prettiest and smartest little dogs to be seen by the company, joined the organization at Flocourt. A tiny pup at the time, she travelled with the company until she was fully grown, and reportedly was stolen by members of an infantry service company. |
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Killed in Action - Morhange, the Lorraine town with the gloomy name, the dismal village of war-wracked buildings, rain and knee-deep mud, holds a sorrowful memory for the men of "B" Company. It was there that they lost their finest and best-liked officer, Lt. Sherwood M. Young Jr., who died November 25 as a result of injuries sustained when his peep struck and exploded a German anti-tank mine that afternoon. Lt. Young, company shop officer, and his driver, T-4 James A. Ketner, who had the miraculous luck of escaping serious injury, were picking their way along a narrow, muddy road, Lt. Young at the wheel, toward a knocked-out American tank when the left front wheel of the vehicle -- that on the lieutenant's side -- exploded a mine which the Germans had laid. The explosion of the six or seven pounds of TNT in the mine, one of the "Riegel" type, smashed Lt. Young's side of the little peep like an eggshell, throwing the vehicle over and sliding it along the ground on Ketner's side. Lt. Young was thrown out, but Ketner was still in the peep when it stopped. When the latter recovered sufficiently from the jolt to size up the situation, he saw that the lieutenant had sustained a grievous leg injury and was in a generally serious condition. Ketner had body bruises and lacerations about the face. Scrambling out of the peep and over to where Lt. Young lay, he used the officer's belt as a tourniquet on the injured leg, and comforted him as best he could before going for aid. Hurrying into Bazoncourt, near where the mine exploded, he met a lieutenant and three enlisted men whom he told about the explosion. Leaving one of his men at the road to stop any Medics who might come along, the lieutenant, the two other enlisted men and Ketner went back to Lt. Young. Shortly thereafter, an ambulance arrived, stopping on the hard road from which Lt. Young and Ketner had turned. Two Medics carried the injured officer on a stretcher to a peep and by peep to the waiting ambulance. Ketner rode the ambulance to a point where a group of "B" Company men were working on a tank, and the ambulance went on to a hospital near Metz. Flagging a peep, Ketner then joined Lt. Drymon not far from Bazoncourt. When the latter heard what had happened, he sent Ketner back to the company via peep to report, and left, himself, to check on Lt. Young's destination. Ketner did not seek medical attention for his injuries which he felt were not serious. The same evening, Lt. Klawon returned from a trip to the hospital where Lt. Young had been taken with the saddening news that he had died, of shock. The fatal trip up the narrow side road was made after Lt. Young had spotted a knocked-out tank from a hard road leading into the nearby town of Bazoncourt. Turning off the hard road, he and Ketner went toward a hill on which the tank sat in a field. A narrower road led up in the direction of the tank, one which branched off the first dirt road they took, and in the "Y" thus formed, between the two roads, were several "Riegel" mines, laying uncovered in holes in the ground. Not thinking of buried mines, since the exposed ones looked more like charges for booby traps than mines, they continued along the road, which was not much more than a path, reaching a point where it narrowed still more between two banks until there was barely room for the peep to get through. Then came the explosion. The following day when the road was swept for other mines, it was found that the peep had missed at least four before striking the fatal one. The mines were staggered in such a manner that any vehicle moving over the path-like road was bound to hit one. About nine mines in all were found by the sweeping party which included Lt. Foster, Sgt. Jacob V. Dunning, who worked the detector, and Ketner. |
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More Evacuation Antics - Leaving Flocourt in one of many "Sunday moves" at 8:30 a.m. on November 20, everyone had a feeling that whatever came next would have to be better than the mud and manure of that dismal little village. But, after a 13.7-mile march through wartorn country along the usual narrow French roads, they arrived at the town of Morhange where they soon learned that the change had not been for the better, except in the matter of barracks. The convoy unloaded first at barracks formerly occupied by civilians who were just moving out. Hardly had the bedrolls and other personal belongings of the troops been carried into the building though when word came to load up again -- they were moving to other quarters. These, in another part of town, turned out to be more German barracks, equipped with double-deck bunks and straw mattresses. The building was big enough to hold the whole company, but Service Section and Parts Issue spent the first night in a stable near the shop, one group of the latter section liking their accommodations so well that they spent the remainder of their time in Morhange there. The stable-dwellers were Dunlap, Ben Franklin, Miller, PFC Hector E. Barbera, Loflin and PFC Frank Finley. The weather, during the entire Morhange stay, was foul, continual cold and rain making working conditions almost as miserable as those to be encountered later in the zero Belgian winter.  Morhange barracks The shop was located in a garage which had suffered greatly from shellfire and bombing, as had the entire town of Morhange. Instead of keeping out rain, what was left of the roof merely funnelled it into streams which would pour down onto the concrete floor of the shop. The knee-deep mud throughout the area was carried in by both men and vehicles. So soupy did the floor become that a detail was kept constantly busy at the futile task of trying to keep the sloppy "goo" down to a level which would permit work to go on. And go on, it did, despite all the weather and lack of a sheltered shop could offer in the way of obstacles. Most jobs were knocked-out tanks, but there were the usual large number of engine and transmission changes to be made. At Morhange, everyone in the company who could be pressed into mechanical work was put on a job, and as was always the case, the vehicles were repaired and turned back to the combat elements in order that constant pressure might be kept on the stubborn enemy. |
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Muddy Morhange - Evacuation Section did not reach Morhange until November 23, three days after the rest of the company had arrived, but once there, they had a job on their hands. Many combat vehicles were being knocked out in those days, and often were left mired down in fields, which frequently were mined, for the Evacuation men to haul back to the shop. It was while engaged in locating such vehicles that Lt. Young met his death. Although the Evacuation Section pulled in just before the big Thanksgiving dinner which featured turkey with trimmings, some of its members did not have time to enjoy the repast, for they were told they had to leave as quickly as possible to evacuate a tank from the front. One prime mover and crew, led by Lt. Foster, T-5 John G. "Jumbo" Pastor and Deacon Hollifield in a peep, left after a hurried Thanksgiving dinner. In the mover were Ben Verdin, Otto Neuman, Rugged Mushik. Fred Franklin and John Dombrouski, who went along just for the ride. On the trip to the front, they had to wait on two occasions for engineers to build bridges before they were able to cross streams, and it was dark when they finally reached the tank. To make things more interesting, the Germans were throwing artillery shells over the area, where the tank was, into a town further back. The "B" men were told to get the tank out as quickly as they could, for it was feared that the enemy would reenter the area and capture it. While trying to haul the heavy vehicle from its resting place in a field onto the road, the mover itself got stuck. Something had to be done quickly, and the Deacon came to the rescue. Managing to get the tank started, he drove it out of the field, and pulled the prime mover out. Then he drove the tank back to the company for necessary repairs. On the way back to Morhange, the mover broke down near the very town which the Germans were shelling, and sat there until Lt. Foster returned to the company in a peep and sent back Tech. Sgt. Clark with Hank Witkowski and a wrecker. They pulled the mover back to the company late that night. As for Johnny Dombrouski, who had gone along for the ride, it did not take him long to realize he had enough. Soon after reaching the tank, he caught a peep and returned to the company. On November 30, Lt. Frank H. Thomas joined the company at Morhange via the replacement route. Lt. Thomas crossed the ocean, England and France with the same replacement "packet" of which Red Lytle and Walter F. Jenkins were members. The two enlisted men beat the lieutenant, however, having, joined the organization at Nancy. |
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Incoming Mail - The second night at Morhange, November 22, turned out to be lively, although there was no indication that it would be when when most of the men went to bed in the big German barracks. But in the small hours of the morning, the town was shelled by big German guns, 25 to 30 high-explosive rounds coming in, one of them hitting an ammunition truck, setting it afire, and causing numerous rounds of small-arms ammunition to explode. Captain Buehrig, hearing the latter, thought the enemy was trying to fight his way back into the town, and sent out three patrols to find out just what the score was. These patrols, led by Lts. Klawon, Young and Bailey, returned shortly with the report that the only small-arms fire in town was that coming from the burning ammunition truck. The following night, more enemy shells came into Morhange, but this time none landed near the company area. |
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[Officers and Enlisted Men] [Web editor's note: When the hardbound book was published, images of Officers and Enlisted men for each unit were not separated out in the Table of Contents. They were located here in the book. I have separated these images in a separate page in each unit so that they will be easier to locate. The content in this section is as originally published in the book. M.D. -- 6/10/2024] |
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Life in Lixingen - Upon arrival in Lixing Les St. Avold, better known to the men by the German-given name of Lixingen, it became apparent to the socially-minded that they would have to learn the German language or rudiments thereof, for in this Lorraine town, as the German border neared, that was the tongue of most of the population. Leaving Morhange at 9:30 a.m. December 3, the convoy pulled into Lixingen, after an 11-mile trip, at 10:40 a.m. [editors note: Photos of officers and enlisted men were inserted in this section. I have made a separate section for ease of reading and viewing.] Civilians here had not been evacuated, and men were billeted in apartment houses left in fair shape by the Germans and in which civilian families also lived. Work continued to pour into the shop which was in the open, on muddy ground. A wrench or tool thrown aside for a minute here was as good as gone, for it would sink beneath the surface of the cold mud and not be seen again unless by accident. However, one feature of the stay at Lixingen was the "main-street" manner in which the men were fed. The kitchen was located in a garage, and adjoining it was a concrete building big enough to serve as a dining room. There were not enough tables and chairs for all, but at least it was a sheltered place in which to eat. Lixingen is spelled with capital letters in the mind of Stan Miernik, for it was here that he was given one of those very scarce but much publicized furloughs back to the States, leaving December 9 for a trip back to that "foreign country" which included 30 days at his home. Memorable to men who worked in the shop along the main street of Lixingen are the frequent "hawg-killings" in which the natives indulged. These performances, with all their gore and noise, would be carried on right in the street or on the narrow sidewalk in front of the owner's home so the carcass would not have to be carried far. A couple men would appear, walking along with a pig, each holding a leg off the ground so they could control the animal which would be squealing to high heaven. Arriving at the desired spot in the street or on the walk, there would be a deft knife stroke at the pig's throat, the rush of a waiting woman with a pail to catch some of the gushing blood for food preparation, and when the animal finally lay motionless, the removal of bristles with boilng [boiling] water and hoes. Then, dismemberment of the carcass would proceed while G. I.'s shook their heads and turned back to their jobs. Lost here was T-5 Armand H. Condi, evacuated because of tooth trouble. He left the same day that first elements of the company moved out of Lixingen. |
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"The Natives were Friendly" - Henriville, which the company reached the morning of December 10 after a 7.4-mile trip from Lixingen, was typical of the Franco-German border towns. Shoddily-built, dingy and dirty, it had even more imposing manure piles than the other towns of the vicinity which the men had visited. However, despite uncomfortable and filthy working conditions, they did not mind their stay there.  Lixigen homes, civilian and soldier They were billeted in the homes of civilians, and an explanation may lie in the words of the first sergeant, entered in his private outline of European activities: "The natives were friendly." These "natives" included numerous goodlooking females in the entire range of attractive years. One, known to Harmon E. Smith, Crimson-Stern Redner and Red Lytle as "The Pump-Handle Kid," used to bring a whistle of appreciation from the trio whenever they Lixingen homes, civilian and soldier remembered her. And hardly another member of the company lacks at least one pleasant memory of Henriville and its "friendly natives" who were mostly of the female sex. The majority of the town's men were prisoners of the Germans, members of the German army or slave laborers of the Heinies. Work continued heavy there, and with the long hours of darkness prevalent then, guard was something to make those who caught it shudder. Standing in the penetrating cold twice a night for two hours and twenty minutes each time certainly was not looked upon as "a privilege and honor." Concussion from American heavy artillery around the town shook the shabby houses day and night as gun crews threw everything into German positions in an effort to soften the stubborn enemy who was putting up the stiffest kind of resistance in weather which favored him because of its hampering effect upon attacking American armor. It was at Henriville, in a small space which he located in one of those popular European house-and-barn combinations that "Curly" Hudgins operated his "Tank to TD Quick Change Shop." Hudge was occupied during the greater part of his Henriville sojourn with the conversion of Continental tank engines into TD engines for the 603rd TD Battalion. Earlier in the European campaign when the demand for TD engines was very light, there were many on hand, and few for tanks. Since the demand for tank engines then was heavy, it was necessary to convert TD engines to tank engines. Now, with a need for TD power plants, there were none available but there were plenty for tanks -- it was the typical army way! As was frequently the case thereafter, part of the company had stayed behind the preceding day when the rest left Lixingen to finish work on which they were engaged when the move order came. In such a group this time were Tech. Sgt. Pratt's First Maintenance Section and part of Tech. Sgt. Wavard Holliday's Platoon Headquarters Section. They joined the company in Henriville a day later. Novel but unpleasant features of the Henriville scene were "Liquid manure piles" resulting from the rain-caused disintegration of those imposing front-yard mounds by which a family's degree of prominence in the neighborhood could be measured. The bigger the pile, the more important the family. The family occupying the building used for the CP must have been an old, well-established one, for its manure pile was majestic. That is, it had been before neglect and the rain ruined it. But the remains were still substantial - and deep. The exact depth was plumbed one evening by Lts. Drymon and Anderson. The first time the officers received their gin rations at Henriville, these two went to the CP late in the afternoon to get theirs. Deciding to have a "short snort" before leaving the CP, they ended up doing the same thing many of us have done. They finished a bottle. Starting for their quarters, they emerged into that total Henriville darkness, than which there was nothing blacker. Missing the narrow path leading from the CP door through the sea of liquid manure to the road, they waded. Lt. Drymon reported that the remains of the pile were more than knee deep. And Lt. Anderson, who followed in his tracks, confirmed the report. |
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Battle of Henriville - "I'll tell you, boys, and I'll tell you no lie," Alabama informed his public on December 11, "Bodong and I should have had that fight years ago." He was referring to a battle which had taken place the day before when most of the men had moved into billets at Henriville after a 7.4-mile march from Lixingen. The Old Farmer, beloved by the whole company for his sense of humor, ability to tell tales and a talent for bitching, unique in the whole U. S. Army, was extremely the worse of wear at the time. But a black eye, cut face and a limp in one leg, which made walking almost impossible, did not prevent him from laughing about the fight and admitting freely that Bodong "whupped the hell out of me." T-5 Edward G. Bodong, not much younger than Bamy, which meant closing in on 40, was a "character" in his own right. A continual fabricator of Rube Goldberg-like inventions, and, like Alabama, always on call for fatigue details, "Bo" was a mild-mannered individual, reminiscent in build to the hero of the cartoon, "Hubert." However, inside was a streak of stubbornness which the army could bring out now and then. The two rode the same truck, and occasionally would get on each other's nerves, Bamy annoyed at Bo's inventions and comforts which he would carry on the truck -- once it was a portable bathtub -- and Bo resenting the Old Farmer's bossiness. Things reached the boiling point near noon on December 10 when the company was attempting to settle itself down in the deep mud and manure of Henriville. Bamy and his gang -- T-5 John A. "Hoot" Gibson, T-5 Hubert "The Kid" Glover and Honest Joe LeBlanc -- were taking over a room in one of the Henriville houses when Bamy noticed that Bo too was moving in. "Listen Bo," twanged The Old Farmer after the ensuing conversation had not induced Bo to leave, "there isn't room in here for you and me!" Bo was staying. Much to his surprise, Bamy got the worse of the battle which followed. As he described it, "I spent most of my time crawling out from under furniture and off the stove." Bo stayed. Bamy did too, because he was in no shape to seek other quarters, if for no other reason. His most crippling ailment was a bruised and twisted leg which made it very difficult for him to move around. His mild, friendly nature returning, Bo helped the Old Farmer get into his bedroll that night, and carried his breakfast to him from the kitchen the next morning. Then he moved out of the room, but he and Alabama were on a friendly basis thereafter. Bamy's troubles, however, did not end with the fight. There was still excitement in store for him, and his problem child, The Kid, supplied it. Not even trying to haul his game leg out of the bedroll next morning when the others arose, Bamy awakened later to find The Kid jumping around the room, surrounded by waist-high flames which he was vainly trying to stamp out. Cursing the fates which could do such things to him, The Old Farmer, injured leg and all, painfully crawled out of his bedroll, picked it up, and threw it on the blaze, smothering the fire which The Kid had started by "priming" the stove with gasoline. |