Post by floydragsdale on Oct 21, 2013 9:36:42 GMT -5
During the B.O.B. campaign, in Belgium, the local citizens of a village, by arrangements from US Army officers, granted you temporary quarters in their homes. Soldiers slept in chairs, on tables and the floor. How wonderful and comfortable it was for you to be out of the cold weather.
Two days later your company saw action again. You advanced into a village late one afternoon and at once a defense system needed to be set up several hundred yards in front of the town. During this period your squad was without a 60mm mortar; consequently your gun crew, now assigned as riflemen, would fill in as needed. This became a dangerous situation by reason that less than a squad of riflemen, with nothing but hastily dug foxholes, and rifles, offered hopeless defense against German armor. As dawn overcame darkness the next morning, the Germans launched an assault at your squad with tanks and armored vehicles. Your line of resistance consisted of six riflemen; no match for the approaching Germans. You reasoned that all should vacate forward positions, yet several others said, “We can’t do that without orders.” Quickly these thoughts came to your mind, “If we remain here, in a matter of minutes, we’ll be dead, wounded, or, prisoners of war. If we leave now our chances of remaining American Soldiers will greatly increase.” While picking up equipment, preparing to leave, a company jeep arrived on the scene with an officer shouting orders “On your own men, get back to the village at once.”
Some GI’s scrambled back across country; not very suitable for a hasty withdrawal. Your route followed an angle to a road, when once there, you would be more sure footed. Enemy rifle fire, very distinct, popped around you. The sound of enemy tanks grinding toward you motivated one to hustle along. You ran until becoming exhausted; then fell to the ground, gasping for air. Moments later a tank pulled along side of you and stopped. You laid there, waiting for the end, when a voicesaid “How about a ride soldier.” The vehicle, an American Sherman Tank, halted long enough to offer you a ride. In less time than it takes to describe, you climbed on the front end, holding on to its’ 75mm gun barrel.
One of the tank crewmen told you they had been in a wooded area close to your squad when the German offensive originated that morning; someone in the village aware of the overwhelming odds against them, radioed the crew to abandon the sector . Minutes later they offered a ride to you that, saved your life.
The Germans surrounded our regiment and they moved in for the kill. Artillery fire poured into the village creating confusion and apprehension among the troops. Exploding shells created gruesome statistics. One hit the back end of an American tank killing a crewmember and wounding several others inside.
Some details of this hasty withdrawal have faded from memory, yet, your company restored its poise later that day. In the early stages of the “Bulge Campaign”, American troops were outnumbered by the German Army Units, ten men to one.
A moment that remains fresh in your mind is a situation when your Battalion was surrounded by the Germans. Officers did not disclose the seriousness of the circumstances to your Company; they issued marching orders and, the entire unit traveled light, with rifles, ammunition and what few rations you had. The march started before daylight with breaks at intervals along the way. During one pause you felt very weak from fatigue and the lack of nourishment and thought that there wasn’t enough energy in your flesh and blood to continue on. As the break ended an Officer yelled, “On your feet men.” Explaining your condition to a Lieutenant who was at the rear of the column he replied, “All right soldier you stay here, but do you see that bend in the road back there?” he asked. “Yes sir”, you replied! He went on to say, “ In another ten minutes you’ll see a German King Tiger Tank come around that bend”. That remark pumped enough adrenaline in your system to put you on your feet with enough energy to lead the column. A few words, wisely chosen, can work wonders. That officer would have made an excellent football coach.
Mine Fields & Germans
Once during the day, two grim situations faced your company at the same time. Word was passed down the column of troops that a sound was not to be uttered. The German lines were fifty yards away. Continuing on the column entered a wooded area. Again, everyone halted. No one made a sound. Hand signals motioned the troops forward. A message whispered down through the column of troops revealed, “We are now entering a mine field.” From then on everyone moved with extreme caution. The Germans placed different types of above ground and below ground mines everywhere. The most feared mine, by soldiers, was the Bouncing Betsy. Foot pressure would trip it; then the mine shot up in the air several feet before exploding; killing and wounding men in every direction. A GI just in front of you nearly set a surface mine off. A sergeant whispered to him, “Freeze”. His leg almost broke a trip wire stretched between two above ground mines. Had he broke the wire both mines would have exploded,. A sergeant had him step backwards and then pointed to the wire and the two mines it was attached to. Somehow the entire Battalion walked through that minefield without setting one off. That episode seemed like an eternity to you while enduring it. One element in your favor was foggy, damp weather. These conditions helped to conceal your outfit and, at the same time, muffle sounds.
The march continued well after dark. Finely, your Battalion reached a safe area. An officer told said, “It was a forty-five mile hike,” most it was cross-country. Soon, all of you were ordered to remove your boots for a foot inspection. Fifty percent of the men in your outfit had trench foot, or frozen feet; consequently they had to go to aid stations for treatment and then on to hospitals. None of those men ever returned to us for further duty. Not only were Soldiers killed, wounded and mutilated by gunfire, other things happened to them as well.
To your personal knowledge, of the original 200 men in your Company when you went on the front lines, in December, there were about fifteen of you left when the war ended, six months later.
Digging a foxhole, or slit trench, in frozen ground produced enough perspiration to dampen underclothing; then as such activity ceased it became difficult to keep warm.
Everyone also lacked overshoes; keeping your feet warm and dry was a constant struggle. In the first days of the Bulge Campaign ice-cold water oozed into your foxhole making it most uncomfortable to stand in. What miserable way to spend a night.
In sub-zero temperature slit trenches, long and wide enough to fit one’s body, then covered with pine boughs, protected us from frostbite. This type of shelter helped hold body heat; kept snow out and also shielded troops from tree bursts from artillery fire.
Mail from home boosted our spirits. Letters would be read and reread. In the early stages of the German Ardennes Offensive mailbags, containing packages and letters, were destroyed by the German Army. Your company received no Christmas mail that year.
Ordinary paraphernalia of every day life in the States was a luxury, especially on or near the battlefield. Now and then a group of men recalled things they missed the most. A Lieutenant had the last word when he said “You men can have all your daydreams but just give me my
home-town newspaper and a comfortable outhouse to read it in.” Now and then, there was some sort of humor up on the front lines during WWII. - - -Floyd D. Ragsdale, Company G, 2nd Battalion, 424th Infantry
Two days later your company saw action again. You advanced into a village late one afternoon and at once a defense system needed to be set up several hundred yards in front of the town. During this period your squad was without a 60mm mortar; consequently your gun crew, now assigned as riflemen, would fill in as needed. This became a dangerous situation by reason that less than a squad of riflemen, with nothing but hastily dug foxholes, and rifles, offered hopeless defense against German armor. As dawn overcame darkness the next morning, the Germans launched an assault at your squad with tanks and armored vehicles. Your line of resistance consisted of six riflemen; no match for the approaching Germans. You reasoned that all should vacate forward positions, yet several others said, “We can’t do that without orders.” Quickly these thoughts came to your mind, “If we remain here, in a matter of minutes, we’ll be dead, wounded, or, prisoners of war. If we leave now our chances of remaining American Soldiers will greatly increase.” While picking up equipment, preparing to leave, a company jeep arrived on the scene with an officer shouting orders “On your own men, get back to the village at once.”
Some GI’s scrambled back across country; not very suitable for a hasty withdrawal. Your route followed an angle to a road, when once there, you would be more sure footed. Enemy rifle fire, very distinct, popped around you. The sound of enemy tanks grinding toward you motivated one to hustle along. You ran until becoming exhausted; then fell to the ground, gasping for air. Moments later a tank pulled along side of you and stopped. You laid there, waiting for the end, when a voicesaid “How about a ride soldier.” The vehicle, an American Sherman Tank, halted long enough to offer you a ride. In less time than it takes to describe, you climbed on the front end, holding on to its’ 75mm gun barrel.
One of the tank crewmen told you they had been in a wooded area close to your squad when the German offensive originated that morning; someone in the village aware of the overwhelming odds against them, radioed the crew to abandon the sector . Minutes later they offered a ride to you that, saved your life.
The Germans surrounded our regiment and they moved in for the kill. Artillery fire poured into the village creating confusion and apprehension among the troops. Exploding shells created gruesome statistics. One hit the back end of an American tank killing a crewmember and wounding several others inside.
Some details of this hasty withdrawal have faded from memory, yet, your company restored its poise later that day. In the early stages of the “Bulge Campaign”, American troops were outnumbered by the German Army Units, ten men to one.
A moment that remains fresh in your mind is a situation when your Battalion was surrounded by the Germans. Officers did not disclose the seriousness of the circumstances to your Company; they issued marching orders and, the entire unit traveled light, with rifles, ammunition and what few rations you had. The march started before daylight with breaks at intervals along the way. During one pause you felt very weak from fatigue and the lack of nourishment and thought that there wasn’t enough energy in your flesh and blood to continue on. As the break ended an Officer yelled, “On your feet men.” Explaining your condition to a Lieutenant who was at the rear of the column he replied, “All right soldier you stay here, but do you see that bend in the road back there?” he asked. “Yes sir”, you replied! He went on to say, “ In another ten minutes you’ll see a German King Tiger Tank come around that bend”. That remark pumped enough adrenaline in your system to put you on your feet with enough energy to lead the column. A few words, wisely chosen, can work wonders. That officer would have made an excellent football coach.
Mine Fields & Germans
Once during the day, two grim situations faced your company at the same time. Word was passed down the column of troops that a sound was not to be uttered. The German lines were fifty yards away. Continuing on the column entered a wooded area. Again, everyone halted. No one made a sound. Hand signals motioned the troops forward. A message whispered down through the column of troops revealed, “We are now entering a mine field.” From then on everyone moved with extreme caution. The Germans placed different types of above ground and below ground mines everywhere. The most feared mine, by soldiers, was the Bouncing Betsy. Foot pressure would trip it; then the mine shot up in the air several feet before exploding; killing and wounding men in every direction. A GI just in front of you nearly set a surface mine off. A sergeant whispered to him, “Freeze”. His leg almost broke a trip wire stretched between two above ground mines. Had he broke the wire both mines would have exploded,. A sergeant had him step backwards and then pointed to the wire and the two mines it was attached to. Somehow the entire Battalion walked through that minefield without setting one off. That episode seemed like an eternity to you while enduring it. One element in your favor was foggy, damp weather. These conditions helped to conceal your outfit and, at the same time, muffle sounds.
The march continued well after dark. Finely, your Battalion reached a safe area. An officer told said, “It was a forty-five mile hike,” most it was cross-country. Soon, all of you were ordered to remove your boots for a foot inspection. Fifty percent of the men in your outfit had trench foot, or frozen feet; consequently they had to go to aid stations for treatment and then on to hospitals. None of those men ever returned to us for further duty. Not only were Soldiers killed, wounded and mutilated by gunfire, other things happened to them as well.
To your personal knowledge, of the original 200 men in your Company when you went on the front lines, in December, there were about fifteen of you left when the war ended, six months later.
Digging a foxhole, or slit trench, in frozen ground produced enough perspiration to dampen underclothing; then as such activity ceased it became difficult to keep warm.
Everyone also lacked overshoes; keeping your feet warm and dry was a constant struggle. In the first days of the Bulge Campaign ice-cold water oozed into your foxhole making it most uncomfortable to stand in. What miserable way to spend a night.
In sub-zero temperature slit trenches, long and wide enough to fit one’s body, then covered with pine boughs, protected us from frostbite. This type of shelter helped hold body heat; kept snow out and also shielded troops from tree bursts from artillery fire.
Mail from home boosted our spirits. Letters would be read and reread. In the early stages of the German Ardennes Offensive mailbags, containing packages and letters, were destroyed by the German Army. Your company received no Christmas mail that year.
Ordinary paraphernalia of every day life in the States was a luxury, especially on or near the battlefield. Now and then a group of men recalled things they missed the most. A Lieutenant had the last word when he said “You men can have all your daydreams but just give me my
home-town newspaper and a comfortable outhouse to read it in.” Now and then, there was some sort of humor up on the front lines during WWII. - - -Floyd D. Ragsdale, Company G, 2nd Battalion, 424th Infantry
