POSTERHOLT
HOLLAND

Recon's first combat job was to act as a security detachment for Battalion Headquarters. Shaughnessy had a heavy machine gun that was dismounted and dug in. The digging was a back-breaking job, and as soon as an excavation of suitable size was made, the whole darn thing caved in. Olson finally solved the problem by driving posts in the corners and boarding the inside up. Toms then took over and did a beautiful camouflage job - at one hundred yards in broad daylight the emplacement was invisible. At night certain people whose night vision was not quite up to par, dropped in occasionally for what was to them a surprise visit.

We had some reconnaissance patrols which were quite exciting. Sgt. Joe DeDonato's second section drew the first patrol. The patrol consisted of T/Sgt. Ripplemeier, Sgt. DeDonato, Cpl. Matts, and Pfc. Johnson. The mission was to reconnoiter a small village about 500 yards out in 'no man's land'. It was stated that the static from a 536 'cigarette carton' radio made more noise than any member of the patrol. Cpl. 'Tommy' Matts, whose sad duty it was to carry the radio was quite concerned over this, it seems. Johnson, who was lead scout on the patrol, got a little too far in advance of the group at one time and found himself about 150 yards in some deep woods, quite alone. A full field pack was wished for on that occasion by 'Skinhead', who felt the necessity of changing a couple of items of apparel. The patrol returned, mission accomplished, with no casualties save ragged nerves.

The next night the first section under Sgt. Toms was assigned a mission of reconnoitering a road and bridge on the enemy's side of the Roer River. The patrol was to consist of a party of Combat Engineers, Sgt. Ripplemeier, Sgt. Toms, Cpl. Shaughnessy, and Pfc. Everett. The patrol was to cross the river in rubber assault boats. When the bank of the river was reached, a humorous, but near fatal accident occurred. A sleepy guard from one of the line companies decided that the patrol was German, and dropped a hand grenade on it. Upon hearing the fuse pop, everyone 'hit it' and cussed. After the explosion there was a moment's silence. Then one of the Engineers piped up, 'Hey, Sarge, they got me in the a--!' Casualties: one Engineer with a hole in his 'landing gear', and, far more serious, a ruined rubber boat. It had been planned to cross with two boats and ten men, but the plan was revised so that five men crossed in one boat. When the far shore was reached, after a very moonlit ride, the patrol took off on their mission. Shaughnessy was left as security for the beachhead. The rest of the men crawled about 500 yards through slimy mud and cow dung to the objective. The bridge was classified demolished, but repairable, and the road was found to be mined. When the patrol returned to the boat it found a deep foxhole, for one Cpl. John Shaughnessy deemed it necessary.

It was one day after this patrol, that Sgt. Ripplemeier was the most shaken. Prior to the crossing, 'RIP', who was carrying a .45 pistol, had Everett accompany him on his initial reconnaissance of the friendly held river bank to gain the additional fire-power of Everett's M1 rifle. The night after the patrol a very red-faced Everett came over to 'Rip' and showed him a broken firing pin. Unknown to both, the Ml 'Extra fire-power' couldn't have fired a shot.

Headquarters Section had its excitement, too. Cpl. Wallace, Frazee, and Norris took off with Lt. Werner and Beardsley of the Maintenance Section one afternoon and ventured into 'no man's land' to salvage some vehicles left mired down by the British Seventh Armored Division. Net result: Two Bren gun-carriers, and one American Weasel. The Weasel in particular proved very worthwhile in future operations.

LINTFORT
GERMANY

The platoon left Aldekerk in advance of Task force Roseborough, the primary mission being to act as a connecting file between the 88th Recon Squadron and the forward elements of the Task force. The morning was cold and eerie. The platoon shivered beneath their mackinaws and other winter apparel. The fields were strewn with the typical flotsam left in the wake of war. In a pasture pockmarked with shell craters lay the remnants of a fine dairy herd. Work horses stood with legs widespread, ears forward, inquisitive in death. Over the hillsides could be seen columns of smoke rising symbolically over still burning houses and barns. These were the first sights that greeted the eyes of the Task force. This was our first offensive, this is what all the long months of hell down in Louisiana was reaping for our enemies. The Cavalry, who were acting as the point, made initial contact immediately after leaving a line of departure generally marked by the 35th Infantry Division's outpost line. Soon, over the radios, was heard the usual bedlam of last minute battle orders and initial instructions. The column halted momentarily, to organize smaller units, to envelope the enemy positions.

The platoon, by chance, halted 100 yards in front of a light artillery battery. In as much as the battery happened to be well camouflaged, no one noticed its presence - until a salvo was loosed in the general direction of the enemy. Immediately, the vehicles were emptied, the occupants landed in the nearest ditches. Before it was realized, the enemy had melted into the general direction of Berlin. They left scattered and small units all over the terrain. The action evolved itself into a series of mopping up operations on our side of Lintfort. The Colonel called the platoon up and issued orders to 'follow me'. Into the industrial outskirts of the fair town of Lintfort we went; peeps running full out, and fingers itchy on triggers that knew no safeties in those days! Our route took us in a roundabout way through the factory and poorer residential districts.

When the center of town was reached 'C' Company was found deployed, book fashion, on both sides of the main street expecting all hell to break loose any second. No determined or organized resistance was met until the Task force started to move out of town. Then it started! Toms' section was sent to the other side of town to pick up some prisoners. When the section arrived, firing was still in progress. Tanks were burning, sending a dirty black multi-headed column of smoke protesting to the Heavens. The section rounded up the dazed and shaken German supermen. The march to the PWE was reminiscent of pictures of chain gangs in our own Southern states. The march back on a whole was uneventful, as the German soldiers were so shocked by the fact that they were defeated, that any further resistance was impossible.

When the section returned to the location of the remainder of the platoon, it developed that some fun had been missed. Sgt. Ripplemeier with Sgt. DeDonato's section had run into some heavy artillery and sniper fire. 'Rip' was heard to remark whilst he, his driver, Charlie Kiser, and the radio tender 'Duke' Ellingson were taking pot shots at a sniper, 'What in hell am I doing here with this popgun?' Later, when a German shell landed nearby and a red hot piece of shrapnel burned a crease in his neck, "Hell, the Krauts got me." He grudgingly admitted afterwards that there was a war on after on after all.

By the time the first section had its second load of prisoners back to the PWE it was very dark. Forward elements of the company were out of town in the direction of Rheinberg. Toms decided that the section should be with the rest of the company. As a result we took off. 'Skinhead' was driving Brewster's peep and was supposedly to follow a 2 1/2 ton truck whose driver knew the route. Well, 'Skinhead', bless his soul, lost the truck, Toms peep lost the Weasel which had no tail light all of which left two peeps in the middle of 'no man's land'. After bouncing around on the road and off the road, mostly off, Sgt. Toms began to turn the air blue. 'Where the - is that damn Weasel!'. The words were no sooner uttered when a flare went up. Esco, who was following Toms' peep, happened to be walking around from the front of his own peep. He never reacted to the flare. Evidently, he considered the flare to be friendly service on the part of a Jerry so he wouldn't trip over something in the dark. At long last the lost patrol found its way back to Lintfort. The remaining two or three hours of the night were spent there.

Bright and early the next morning after a swell (?) breakfast we started off again for the front. Flash! We did not get lost. What a razzing we got when we reached the rest of the platoon. 'You guys would get lost in the middle of Times Square', yelled the 'Ginnie'. (Sgt. DeDonato, to you) After 15 minutes of small talk and a note-comparing session, Joe's section took off for somewhere further up front, and generally got the daylights scared out of them. Toms' section stayed back to pick up Service Company which was still in Lintfort. That night the platoon reassembled at the brick kiln outside of Rheinberg.