5.   FROM HOLLAND BACK INTO COMBAT

The call came to move out from Wijlre because much unfinished business remained. Company A was now back to full strength because of the replacements we received, and our equipment was also renewed. While at the Siegfried Line, we actually had a shortage of ammunition, Patton's Third Army had outrun the supply lines to a great extent, but now, we were well supplied and prepared to meet any military challenge. We first had a 'mopping up' job to do in Roermond, Holland before re-entering the German border into the Ruhr Valley. Our Co. A Command Post was in the home of a Dutch schoolteacher (Roermond) where we stayed for three days. Our host, who was only too happy to have us as his guests, went to his large backyard with a shovel, and there, he uncovered several bottles of very fine homemade wine with which to treat us. These bottles had apparently been hidden for a few years during the German occupation.

We were soon in pursuit of a retreating German Army, and our next encounter was at Tetelrath, Germany where there was much farmland, but there were also many pillboxes that played a large role for the Germans in defending their borderline. It was here that our 2^nd Platoon Leader, Lt. Vannie Albanese (of Brooklyn, N.Y.) was hit with an armor piercing bullet shot from a German rifle (Mauser). The bullet passed through the upper portion of his steel helmet, going in one side, then coming out the other side, but it never touched even his scalp! I am sure he has never parted with that helmet. For those of us who saw this helmet later, it appeared that it would be impossible for a bullet to follow such a line of fire and still not even draw blood.

We took many prisoners at Tetlrath, and it was standard procedure to march them to the rear area and our men of course, always escorted them. Our newly made C. O. (we went through seven commanding officers in Co. A) was 1^st Lt. Martin Hammerschmidt of Chicago, Ill. He was riding in his jeep, driven by Walt Hewitt of Shoals, Ind., and they attempted to drive around one of these groups of P.W.s, and in doing so, they drove on the shoulder of the dirt road, and the front left wheel of their jeep hit a "Spider" land mine. "Hammerhead", as we called the C.O., received a very bad leg wound, and in a few days, succumbed. He had been a long term member of Co. A dating back to the Camp Polk days, and while he was a bit noisy at times, we knew he had a heart of gold when it came to being concerned with his men.

Back in Wijlre, Holland, we had our C.P. in the local taproom where the owner had a sixteen-year-old daughter named Annie. One day Annie was suffering with a very bad toothache and Hammerschmidt went out of his way to take her to our 7^th Bat. Dental Surgeon, where her tooth was promptly extracted. Annie was always thankful for Marty and his concern for her, and when I had a chance to go back to Wijlre some months later in May, I saw Annie. She came running to me when she saw me, and with tears streaming down her face, she had somehow learned of Marty's death even before I was to tell her. Hammerschmidt's family in Chicago were well to do, and for some reason, they thought that their son was not liked by the men who served under his command, but such definitely was not the case. I even remember him back at Nennig, during the bitter cold, carrying blankets to his men high on a ridge where they were dug-in, and at the time he was carrying the blankets, he had to move through a very heavy mortar attack almost getting killed en-route. By the way, his driver Hewitt, received a leg wound also, but he recovered after a period of hospitalization back in the states. Hewitt died some years later of cancer as a civilian.

MARCH TO THE RHINE RIVER

It was about this time that a reporter from Time Magazine had attached himself to our 8^th Armored Division. I don't recall who he was, nor do I know how long he traveled with us, but he did a couple of articles for his magazine about the enormity of our division. We have always been known as the "Thundering Herd" (as in buffaloes), but he referred to us as the "Iron Snake". He had estimated that if all of our armored vehicles and equipment were to be stretched out into a single column, it would measure over 20 miles in length. This was his estimate not mine; whether it was a correct one, I do not know. We were 15,000 men strong, with attachments.

Crossing the Rhine River over a pontoon bridge during a nighttime fog without the use of vehicular headlights (driving blackout), and with your driver Bill Sewell of Phila. Slightly intoxicated and, of yes, he is driving a half-track personnel vehicle that allows him the limited use of a very small peep slot through which to see. Well, to make a short story out of a long one, the half-track's width was about equal to the width of the bridge upon which we were riding, so I had to guide him as I stood up in the 50 cal. Machine Gun Mount. All I said to him was, don't turn the steering wheel either to the right or to the left - just hold it steady while we all pray! Our prayers were WE MADE IT SAFELY ACROSS!

Of special note, I had learned some years later that one of our tanks had sunk a German Submarine in the Rhine River. This was authenticated, and of course, this had to be a 'First' in military achievements.

The Rhineland Engagement merited a Battle Star, and it produced a last ditch battle with the enemy, who by now, realized they had no chance for victory. The area of Unna, Germany gave us many problems but one interesting story surfaced years later. On this particular day, there was a lull in the exchange of fire, and Sgt. Hugh Snow of Seattle, Wash. and Keith Kelly of Detroit, Mich. were positioned on a flank spot of our firing line. They were observing two German soldiers in a barnyard, and these krauts were unaware of their circumstances. It seems they were merely in an off-guard attitude not realizing that Snow had a bead on them, and when he had them lined up in such a way, that he could knock them both off with one shot.

His moment arrived as they stopped to examine something in the barnyard. He very slowly started to apply pressure on the trigger of his carbine, and I am sure he also had a smirk on his face as he proceeded. A second before the report of the carbine would be heard, Kelly had reached over and pushed the barrel of Snow's carbine down into the grass. Snow had been lying in a prone position. Kelly then said to Snow, "Never on Good Friday". I don't really know if Snow was a religious person, but because it was Good Friday, there are a couple of former Kraut soldiers still alive.

Liberating slave labor camps in Germany was always a joy to me. To see these poor folks who were forced to work unbearable hours and with little food and other essentials, and who were many times beaten by those who operated the camps, then to see them realize they were now free, and the tears of happiness they displayed. At the time of their liberation, many of them would ask us for weapons, then they would go and look for the ones who had beaten them over the years (in some cases), and they would obtain revengeful satisfaction. We also had many Polish slave laborers who would attach themselves to our Division, then fight side by side with us, many had lost their lives in so doing...also, many of the liberated ones would perform all of our kitchen work, because this was also a good means for them to be fed fine food as compared to what they had been getting/or not getting!