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February 6, 1945:
We rolled out of Boiset Borsu. We were on our way for what was
to be a sixty-five mile trip back into Germany. It was a misty,
wet day. The roads were muddy. The ice and snow had disappeared.
Spring was definitely on its way. We were talking about this
past Ardennes debacle as a bad dream. We talked about how only
six weeks ago we were experiencing the biting cold, snow, and
ice. We talked about that first night we left Breinig, half stunned,
half scared not really knowing what was happening because of
the bitter cold, snow, and fog. We talked about the buzz-bombs,
the harassing German tanks and artillery, and how we worried
about the espionage agents dressed in G.I. clothes and driving
captured American tanks and jeeps. And, of course, there were
the humorous things such as our Christmas Eve in Spa, when most
of the company was "tanked" after consuming what was
said to be a truck load of champagne; John Barclay, loading and
unloading our Christmas meal three times; the dilemma of Captain
Woods having to tell his commanding officer that the Company
was unable to pull out at 2:00 a.m. because they weren't fit
to drive the two hour reprieve. They were told to shape up fast.
Then, the notice to stay put when one of our tank companies shot
up the advancing Germans.
The good things to recall. The sky filling
fleets of Flying Fortresses and Liberators passing overhead on
December 25th on that beautiful clear, crisp day. They were on
their way to soften up the enemy. The sight of these beautiful
American airplanes, shining like bits of tinsel in the high,
blue arch of the sky. This was the first day since the counter-offensive
started that we were able to fly. These planes appeared when
the hour of peril was the greatest.
Tex, Carl, Captain Woods, Paul Lubke and I
talked as we continued our trek back into Germany, through the
same towns we took in September. We went through Liege (where
our former company commander and entire half-track crew got that
direct hit) Eupen, Aachen, Roentgen, and through Breinig.
We arrived at Busbach around 3:00 p.m. It
is on top of a hill overlooking Stolberg. (Reminds me if I was
in Prospect overlooking Johnstown, Pa.). Carl let me drive the
half-track across the border. He got as big a kick out of seeing
that I got a big kick out of it. So here we are in Busbach, Germany.
This new assembly area is familiar terrain: tanks and half-tracks
clattered back into the pill-box potted hills of Stolberg and
Breinig.
Here we are. Poised for an offensive leading
us across the Roer River and eventually the Rhine River. We are
waiting because of the melting snow, mud, and heavy rainfall.
It has swollen the Roer. German engineers have further aggravated
the situation by opening the flood gates of the dams up the river.
This is proving to be as an effective barrier as the Siegfried
Line. We are told we have to wait until the river levels recede.
However, artillery and air bombing is very heavy. The radio reports
indicate they are very effective in softening up the Heinies.
February 28, 1945:
We started out for Metzerich just on the other side of Duren
and the Roer River. This was a 21 mile march. We battled through
Eschweiler and Duren and other German towns this war has made
famous. These towns are all a mass of rubble and this east side
of the Roer there is not a civilian to be seen. Sure is an eerie
feeling. All around us there are cows, horses, chickens running
around on the loose - running helter-skelter all over the place;
no one to care for them. I may add we all had chicken for several
days. Our mess sergeant also prepared some good beef menus for
several days.
In this area there is not a single house untouched
by the passing of war. Buildings smoldering in ruin. Vehicles
overturned. German dead lay by the roadside along with the Pagan
effects of the falling empire. In Eschweiler, which was headquarters
for one of the German armies, swastika flags, official papers
of Nazi Government and the litter of cross-marked personal belongings,
brown shirt uniforms lay scattered along side the roads.
In Berrendorf, we found that five hundred
of the town's civilians gathered in a little Roman Catholic Church
to await and surrender to the oncoming American troops. With
invasion at their doorsteps, these reluctant warriors had chosen
to wait in the place of worship rather than draw arms at the
local Nazi headquarters to fight it out with the Third Armored.
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