Post by floydragsdale on Dec 31, 2009 21:33:32 GMT -5
New Years Eve 1944
The setting is in Belgium; somewhere in the hills of the Ardennes Forest, near the front lines. It is, Sunday evening, the last day of December and the year 1944,
The trees, buildings and all else were silhouetted to the eye, with a blanket of fresh snow covering the landscape. It seemed as if one could reach up and touch the moon and stars. The sky was crystal-clear; with the crisp air of winter, it all appeared to be a perfect setting for an artist to portray in a painting.
The silence of the evening was shattered by an exploding artillery shell, nearby, in the forest; and the sound of a German buzz bomb overhead quickly reminded our mortar squad of the dangers around us.
For the past 16 days, in a crash course, we had been introduced to the art of warfare; much faster than we learned how to wage war in eighteen weeks of basic training back in the States.
Now we were a mile or two from the front lines; battle fatigued and in the need of a calm night and sleep.
Low and behold, all of a sudden, there it was; a barn in a clearing. It had a hayloft and fresh hay on the upper floor. That is what we were striving to find.
The view from the loft was illuminating; a commanding view of the countryside was ours to admire. This was where we would spend the night.
All bedded down in the hay; the aroma from the straw was pleasant to the nostrils. What a wonderful feeling it was to be in the comfort of that barn..
Buzz bombs had been flying overhead, all day, at intervals that were not methodical and, away they flew into the distance, leaving their destruction elsewhere.
As I was drifting off to sleep the sound of another buzz bomb pierced the night air. However this one was different. The sound began to sputter; then quit. Seconds later it exploded nearby; about thirty to fifty yards from us.
After the excitement from that affair subsided, do you think we slept any more that night? Yes; however, with one ear in the hay and the other one tuned to the sky; just in case.
That’s the way it was, for our mortar crew, New Years Eve, somewhere in Belgium, 1944
Floyd,
424th Regiment
The setting is in Belgium; somewhere in the hills of the Ardennes Forest, near the front lines. It is, Sunday evening, the last day of December and the year 1944,
The trees, buildings and all else were silhouetted to the eye, with a blanket of fresh snow covering the landscape. It seemed as if one could reach up and touch the moon and stars. The sky was crystal-clear; with the crisp air of winter, it all appeared to be a perfect setting for an artist to portray in a painting.
The silence of the evening was shattered by an exploding artillery shell, nearby, in the forest; and the sound of a German buzz bomb overhead quickly reminded our mortar squad of the dangers around us.
For the past 16 days, in a crash course, we had been introduced to the art of warfare; much faster than we learned how to wage war in eighteen weeks of basic training back in the States.
Now we were a mile or two from the front lines; battle fatigued and in the need of a calm night and sleep.
Low and behold, all of a sudden, there it was; a barn in a clearing. It had a hayloft and fresh hay on the upper floor. That is what we were striving to find.
The view from the loft was illuminating; a commanding view of the countryside was ours to admire. This was where we would spend the night.
All bedded down in the hay; the aroma from the straw was pleasant to the nostrils. What a wonderful feeling it was to be in the comfort of that barn..
Buzz bombs had been flying overhead, all day, at intervals that were not methodical and, away they flew into the distance, leaving their destruction elsewhere.
As I was drifting off to sleep the sound of another buzz bomb pierced the night air. However this one was different. The sound began to sputter; then quit. Seconds later it exploded nearby; about thirty to fifty yards from us.
After the excitement from that affair subsided, do you think we slept any more that night? Yes; however, with one ear in the hay and the other one tuned to the sky; just in case.
That’s the way it was, for our mortar crew, New Years Eve, somewhere in Belgium, 1944
Floyd,
424th Regiment
