On March 25, I94S the company was alerted and moved out the next night with CCR. The last of our convoy crossed the Rhine River on a pontoon bridge at 0630 in the morning under cover of a man made fog. Both banks of the river were a mass of raw scars from the terrific bombardments. As we crossed the bridge, we could see the remains of another pontoon bridge up-stream a few yards that had received a direct hit. On the eastern bank some distance inland everything had been leveled. Scattered amidst the shell holes were white and pastel parachutes, evidence of the men who had parachuted across to establish a bridgehead.

On the other side of the Rhine we found ourselves in the industrial heart of Germany, the Ruhr. There was little open country. That part of the earth's surface not covered with forests was occupied by large manufacturing cities only a mile or two apart. It was a nightmare for armor, for armor needs country in which to maneuver and feint. These country roads and land had turned to quagmire, forcing us to keep to the main roads. The Germans had every intersection zeroed in. Moreover, the roads were mined and the bridges blown and the Germans had learned in Russia that a modern city is a wonderful defensive position. Each building might house a sniper or a Panzer-Faust (comparable to our bazooka). The city of Recklinghausen was the main objective of the 8th Armored.

The first platoon was again assigned to the 58th Infantry and Task Force Artman. The second platoon went with the 80th Tank; the third, held in reserve. After a few hours of rest, the whole group moved up to the front. On this March 28 the third squad of the first platoon under Billy Johnson joined a platoon of infantry in an attack on Kirchellen. Little opposition was found until they reached the center of the town when suddenly it seemed as if hell had released all its furies on them. A group of 88s were zeroed in on them perfectly, and, before they could scatter and take cover, a shell burst in the midst of the squad instantly killing Ray J. McCormick and Edwin H. Battjes, mortally wounding Kenneth R. Miller, maiming Paul J. Cavano and seriously injuring Sylvester E. Szerszen. The rest of the Squad, B. J. Johnston, Zeke Wallace, John Mansueto, Whizzer White, Chuch Howe, Jim Thacker and Harold Hart returned stunned and overwhelmed.

At the time it occurs death is a terrifying mystery. But there is more to death on the battlefield than mystery. There is the loss of a young man's chance to live and enjoy his heritage. Never to have your chance, never to show the world or to prove to yourself what you can do is the greatest loss. This is an irremediable tragedy from which the world may never fully recover.

Night fell like a dank shroud -- cold, rainy, miserable. As we shivered on guard and tried to penetrate the veil of life with our thoughts, civilization burned all about us in the form of flaming buildings. Overhead the highly polished, carefully micrometered calling cards of advanced science whistled and moaned back and forth.

The second platoon went into action with Task Force Walker, and the engineers had their work cut out for them. The Task Force consisted of elements from the 80th Tank, 88th Cavalry, 58th Infantry, 509th Tank Destroyer, 78th Medics, 405th Field Artillery, 75th Infantry, 5§rd Engineers and other attached units. Task Force Walker relieved the 30th Infantry Division and proceeded to start digging out the enemy. About the first thing they discovered was a mine field which blew up a tank. So while Bob Bjorkman, Tom LaFleur and Tug Tognoni filled in the crater, Tenpenny, Hartz and Holshue sweph the road ahead of the advancing column for mines end Big Bear Pjzzo swept the ditches for Krauts, capturing fifteen.

Sy Symonds and Ed Kramer were both injured by a barrage of 88s, and were evacuated leaving Dudley Gerry in charge with Pete Carapella operating the radio from beneath the peep between falling shells. Kramer had driven his peep up on the point where other peep drivers from other outfits had refused to go. John Gernentz and Fred Stoughton came up to the front to take the place of Kroner end Symonds. Roy Snyder, Fruit-bar Mattson and Ray Hathaway cleared rubble from the roads under fire.

The first platoon still with the 58th continued on their mission which was to just keep going. Ed Dick, John Adams, Rube Ebner and Alfred Walls cleared a crater in the middle of the road of mines while the rest of the squad filled it up. Up the road a piece sweating it out in a ditch, Desmond, Saylor and Winters entertained some big shot brass from the 9th Army H.Q., who had never been up to the front before. The Jerries gave them a warm welcome and the "arm chair jockies" were satisfied to return to their jobs a little dirtier than when they arrived.

While this was going on, Austin Burch and Fred Cohen were a couple of busy boys along with peep driver Tedlook. Under heavy fire they cleared a mine field, Lt. Burch picking up Riegals with his bare hands and tossing them aside. He also made a dash under fire to rescue a wounded tanker and take him to an aid station. Sometime around this period, Burch removed a dud from an infantry H-T while the former occupants stared in deadly fascination, Then Cohen and Burch went ahead on patrol into Feldhausen. For this day's work, Burch received the Silver Star and Cohen, the Bronze Star.

Wendell Burwell accidently shot himself in the foot while seeking cover in a foxhole. Earl "Pop" Inman capably stepped into Wendell's shoes as first platoon tool corporal.

In the meantime the third platoon had been taken from its reserve status and sent out ahead to prepare the way for relieving the 35th Infantry Division. The second squad, Zip Wollschlager, Johnny Kolsun, Bruno Oliario, Frank Lipsky, Flip DeCaro, Ed Childs, Ray Campbell, Bill Persinger, Max Finestein, Ray "Tim" Holden and Harold Lewis rebuilt the road to the front. Of course, the first squad did just as much work as the second.

On the morning of March 28 the third platoon was attached to a task force which attacked the city of Kirchellen, from the west. For four hours the whole force was pinned down by a heavy concentration of enemy fire, but just at dusk the force sprang away with guns blazing in the best western tradition and entered the city. After disposing of the Germans, Zip Wollschlager and cohorts succeeded in rounding up a large quantity of champagne. The platoon then billeted for the night on the outskirts of the town. It was not long before enemy artillery drove everyone to the cellar with the exception of Iggy Usalis who decided the Germans could not shoot for sour apples and chose to stay where he was. Five minutes later three shells hit the house in rapid succession and Iggy, spitting plaster and dirt departed post haste for the cellar.

The next day the third platoon was assigned the job of laying two sections of treadway over a canal whose bridge had just been blown. Bypassing an entire combat command through the mud, the platoon set to work. When the bridge was completed, five vehicles crossed and were promptly knocked out. The enemy then set out to destroy the bridge. Artillery and mortar fire poured in. Under cover of darkness, the second and third squads under Frank Markey dug in machine gun and hazooka emplacements and held the bridge for five hours before the 75th Infantry came along and relieved them. Art Zoellner's peep was knocked out during the battle.

The next day the third platoon laid more treadway on the canal but at a different spot for there were two task forces trying to cross at one bridge. Then the day following, the platoon continued onward sending out patrols until they ran into Recklinghausen which was full of determined Nazis and was the objective of the 8th Armored Division. The battle raged furiously here for many hours.

There has been a great deal of controversy as to the respective merits of American and German arms. But despite all that the generals and politicians said, the soldiers who used American weapons against those of the Germans are almost unanimous in their belief that the German Tiger tank was far superior to anything we had in both armor and fire power. Time after time the Air Corps (the most welcome sight in all the world was to see a flight of P-47 or other rocket carrying planes come up to save our bacon) had to be called up to silence or flush a lone tiger tank that was holding up a whole task force. Our Shermans were almost helpless before a Tiger. The accuracy, firepower, penetrating power and versatility of the enemy 88s were the despair and nightmare of the entire fighting front.

Ray Hartz and a buddy or two of the second platoon did little reconnaissance on their own, sauntered into an uncaptured German town and took enough pistols for most of their squad, John Gernentz did a fine job of rescuing a wounded tanker by carrying him from his exposed position to the nearest aid station during a barrage by the enemy.

The first and second squads of the second platoon, McClung, Kozloff, Shuliga, Hathaway, Armstrong, Isaksen, Roman, Mattson, Hill, C. C. Campbell, J. O. Campbell, Snyder, Mashio, Gore, Cis,Ellison, Mileski, Grigsby, Presta, Marshall, Coon, Helm, Donaldson, Schmidt and John Miller, relieved of duty, secured billets in a very fashionable German home. "This home was equipped with all the modern conveniences including running water, electricity, water heaters, radios and the only washing that we have yet seen in Germany. it was quite a novelty to be able to sit in the cellar and listen to Glenn Miller's 'Moonlight Serenade' when outside only a few hundred yards away Jerry was planning a different kind of entertainment for us." *

* Written by Fred Coon and Frank Roman

Early the next morning, March 31, Task Force Walker jumped off in a different direction again. In five consecutive days the force had hit the enemy in as many different places. After an all day battle in which the C.P. was knocked out, the Germans finally retreated and one more town fell into the liberators' hands.

Charley Desmond and Rube Ebner turned into fightin' fools. Disregarding snipers and shells, they were always engaged in some bit of work such as directing the laying of treadway by a treadway carrying tank or removing mines and filling craters. John Larkin almost got a Purple Heart when a shell exploded and riddled the peep he had just vacated. John was under the peep and escaped injury, that is, if you discount a three pound brick whacking you across the back. Robert "Knobby" Reese coolly stuck to his radio in the Command H-T during a mortar barrage after Rajchel and an officer had told him to take cover, and after most of the rest were seeing who could find the deepest cellar. Lt. Thomas O'Rourke, quiet, intrepid reconnaissance officer, attached to our company, distinguished himself in the company's eyes by sticking on the point day and night. Tedlock and Burch's peep was hit by shrapnel ruining a pair of Burch's shoes. A number of men were evacuated with battle fatigue.

On April l, Easter Morning, the company was finally relieved and left it's positions. For five days it had been under continuous fire. For five days the weather had been nasty, cold and rainy. For five days there had been little or no hot chow.

It was a hard bitten company that passed back down the road that had cost so much in agony and blood. The ditches and fields were still littered with waxwork figures in grotesque positions, mostly Germans, some Americans. Our burned out tanks and H-T's were mute evidence to the skill and ferocity of the enemy. Slaughtered livestock were everywhere furnishing some sustenance for the hundreds of thousands of slaves we had released in our drive. French, there were, and Polish, Dutch, Belgian, Italian, Russians, Czechs and our own American boys. They wanted to join us in the attack on the hated oppressors even though few could still carry themselves upright. For some, freedom was ironic, a grim jest. Their homes destroyed, their families scattered to the winds or dead, there was nothing for them to return to. Others were in the last stages of emaciation, or their minds had become unhinged -- it was too late for many of these. The stirring beat of martial music, the euphonious phrases of high glory that tingle the spine and make the blood race, sending men into paroxysms of patriotic fervor are, when held up to the searching light of exploding shells and mirrored in pools of blood, shallow, vain and stupid!

The company was scheduled to convoy to Borke about a hundred miles north. All went well except the Brockway being slower and less maneuverable than the other vehicles slowly fell behind and with it the maintenance H~T and two AAA H-Ts attached to the company. No one had informed any member of the latter group where the convoy was bound for, so waved on by M.P.s, this group suddenly found itself in a 30th Infantry Division convoy which sped along at top speed. Thirty miles on down the road these "fugitives" decided that something was amiss and pulled out of the convoy. G. D. Buckner and one of the AAA drivers took the maintenance peep in search of the company. The rest of the men took over a big German farm house, parked the vehicles, mounted a guard, let some Polish girls cook them a big meal and settled down for the night. There were no officers or big dealers present, just technicians like Jorgy Jorgensen, Dick Shenberger, Ray Daniels, Elmer Scheidt and little Donald Rose. Everything was accomplished democratically with no friction. There was no looting, no promiscuous destruction of property. There were no priorities on the best beds, the lights, the food. Everyone thoroughly enjoyed himself. For an all too brief period this particular group was once more on equal terms, equal men.

After a day of maintenance at Borke, the company pulled out in the CCR convoy. The sun broke through the mists for a brief interlude. The fertile, green panorama that was that part of Germany stood revealed in silent splendor. The war seemed but an evil dream. Surely, people endowed with reason and with such a rich heritage could not be so blind and ignorant as to gamble it all away!

Along the roads taken by our advancing forces, spaced at irregular intervals were symmetrical, rectangular patches of brown earth supporting small white crosses and GI helmets. The patches of brown were neatly trimmed with fragile, golden daffodils listening to the voice of the wind.

After twenty-four hours of intermittent traveling, we put one hundred and fifty miles behind us and pulled into Bentfeld to await the dozens of vehicles that had gone into the ditches during the night when we traveled at top speed in severe blackout. Hardly had we arrived when word came to proceed southwest and cut off several enemy divisions caught in a pocket in the Ruhr valley. But as usual, after getting lined up on the highway we waited until dark to move. Night came on and brought with it rain; traveling was execrable.

Lippstadt was to be our bivouac area but would-be billeters found it still full of Krauts. Task forces were organized on the spot and the first and second platoons went along to do the usual dirty work. After a sharp skirmish the city of Lippstadt was liberated. The second platoon went on down the road towards the enemy and removed a mine field that was holding up the advance. Roman and Coon trying to cover themselves with glory captured six Krauts with an engineering knife -- and Ml rifles. The first night in Lippstadt, John Nowels, Donald Rose and one or two others manned a machine gun and bazooka on the outer perimeter of our lines. It rained all night and when they were relieved in the morning they looked like drowned rats. Spik Ellison, Hugh Reilly, Holshue, Gerry, Callahan and C. G. Campbell blew the guns of three Tiger tanks.

An outsized mansion was chosen to bivouac in for a few days while reinforcements were brought up. The Germans had proved unexpectedly strong in this area, holding us up somewhat. So the 8th A.D., instead of attacking, set up a defensive line and waited.

It was at Lippstadt that the company ended its long diet of C and K rations. The indomitable third platoon liberated a calf. Veal was served a la carte that evening by Bill Reiling and Hank Pacyna. When the second platoon after being relieved at the front by the third returned and heard of the orgy, they set about liberating a yearling with Cowboy Lynch and Buck Buchanan officiating. L. E. O'Brien and Oral White then had enough material for stew for a week. Whitey Asklof was all smiles.

Lippstadt had been a big manufacturing district employing thousands of slaves, largely Russian. Interned in crowded barracks, surrounded by a high fence, these serfs worked long hours. When we freed them it was discovered that an overwhelming percentage of these slaves were young girls, many not unshapely, not bad looking and not averse to strolling along the byways with GIs. Though orders sternly forbade fraternizing with these people, who dares say this was bad! For to live dangerously, to watch comrades die, to not be at all certain that you will live through the next day so emotionalizes a man that a few smug orders dreamed up by petty minded officials in a rear echelon are but a challenge to a man. Nothing is so wonderful as feminine companionship after weeks of bachelorhood, even though you cannot understand a word they say or they a word you utter. But language was never a barrier to a courtship if the parties of the first part and the parties of the second part had any sort of wish to be together. Joe Bowkowski, Qhuck Debrick, Tony Genovese, Rodney Germolus and others, out of the kindness of their hearts extended themselves in their efforts to give the Russians a warm and happy impression of Americans.

April 7 found us on the move again heading southwest in the direction of Soest, which city, we were warned, was full of booby traps. The first platoon moved up to the front and immediately received a royal reception. Burch and Cohen busied themselves clearing a mile and a half stretch of road of mines, blowing up enemy big guns and de-mining roadblocks. Saylor's H-T received three direct hits practically demolishing it, pushing about half the motor up under the dash. Fortunately, the squad had been warned and scattered. Fred Cohen started firing a captured 20MM gun at the enemy and scared his comrades more than the enemy. Lynch, Buchanan, Borgelt and Gerry of the second platoon had their truck peppered but came out of their holes unscathed.

McClung's squad of the second platoon was deployed on the brow of a hill in their truck along with dozens of tanks and H-Ts when the mist that had been covering their movements suddenly lifted and the Germans started throwing everything at them but the iron Hitler used to press his pants. Hill quickly drove the truck into a valley and everyone busied himself digging for China. Before they were secure a shell exploded nearby and shrapnel caught Roy Snyder in the face necessitating his evacuation. The second and third squads were sent up to join in the scrap.

John Aldridge, Sam Bowman, David Campbell, Harvey Rohrhaugh, Alhert Howe and others came into the company as replacements.

The third platoon, with another task force, was working along the Ruhr River, and the Nazis were keeping them busy. At night the shelling was terrific and everyone had to "sleep" in a fox hole. During the day work had to be done, shells or no. Harold Lewis' squad truck received a near miss which destroyed ten tires and most of the men's clothes and weapons. The next day after the tires had been replaced the truck received a direct hit definitely put it among the missing. Again the boys, being under cover, were unharmed. Junior Debrick's tool truck also gathered a considerable quantity of shrapnel in its tires and frame. Leonard_Whitcomb collapsed from battle fatigue as did Edward Rawson. Art Zoellner kept the platoon supplied with food and mail by acting as liaison with his peep.

Al Jensen saved his truck and perhaps some of the squad members' lives by jumping into the driver's seat and driving the vehicle out of the line of fire when the enemy suddenly opened fire on their position. The Jerries liked nothing better than a big target such as a 2 and 1/2 ton truck.

On April 9 as fine a man as ever graced an officer's uniform was wounded severely, ultimately losing his left arm. Cool, efficient Lt. Charles Burch, first platoon leader, and popular, independent Johnny Tedlock, peep driver, were crossing a field in a peep when without warning a mortar shell exploded just in front of their moving vehicle throwing a great deal of shrapnel up through the floor boards wounding both of them critically. Both men, as they were evacuated from the field, kept anxiously inquiring as to the condition of the other. Joe Starcevitch, John Wilson, Basil Wheaton, Dan Whitney, Blade Madalis, Ed 'Latterback' Schaeffer, Willie Highsmith, Bill Linton, Fay Luzier, Carl Maves, Ed McGoldrick, Chuck Biscardi and John Bright were with then in in the task force and carried on the work.

Starcevitch took command of the situation and John Wilson took over the squad, Dan Bowman, Claude McMullen and Rod Germolus came up as the attack proceeded.

The team of Symonds and Kramer returned wearing Purple Hearts. Biscardi was evacuated with battle fatigue and John Bright took over Chuck's driving duties. Lt. Stoughton assumed command of the first platoon with Jack Winters as his driver. Pay day finally arrived on the eleventh and some of the second platoon men having no place to go in particular organized a crap game in a big fox hole.

Despite rumor to the contrary, a few men of the company maintained perfect records of thoroughly screening (vulgarly referred to as looting) every building, drawer and crevice within a mile's distance rearward of wherever the company was immediately stationed. These few men were almost without exception married men (not all the married men carried on like this) and were indefatigable in their efforts. Asked what they were looking for and most would look at you blankly, really not knowing. However there were a few specialists; for example, the egg lovers. The instant a convoy reached a new area these "eggers" hit the ground sprinting for the nearest hen house regardless of shot, shell or booby traps. After exhausting this source, they invaded the kitchen, next the cellar and finally made a careful search of the house for any concealed hen fruit. To them the cackle of a hen was like a fire alarm to an old fire-horse or the clang of a bell to a punch drunk fighter. Some of these specialists even went so far as to make friends with the hens aiding them in their efforts to give birth to egg by stroking them or by holding their hands during the awful ordeal. Loyal Ruhl earned quite a reputation in the latter maneuver.

Another group of specialists were the "booze hounds." This nomenclature Should be interpreted literally, not in the disreputable sense that it has come to bear among low minded people. The boozehound upon striking a new area did not start out hastily. He carefully surveyed the surrounding houses, lifted his trusty nose into the breeze, daintily sniffed the air and unerringly made a beeline for the cellar containing the "mostest and choicest" beverages.

Other near specialists were the "old timers" (watch collectors), camera fiends and gun collectors. Perhaps the latter should not he mentioned here for that bordered on the legitimate.

The day following Burch and Tedlock's misfortune, Buckner, Jorgenson and Shenberger in the maintenance H·T went out to try and recover the peep. Everything went as smooth as nylon until the boys had the peep hooked onto the H-T. Then the 88s started whamming in. Shenberger shouted, "Let's get the hell outa here!" and almost tore the motor out of the H-T taking off. Reaching the top of the hill, the boys ran into more trouble for they found themselves smack behind a Sherman tank that was being tracked by an 88. Fifteen pounds lighter and a few seconds later, they finally reached comparative safety from the game of tag in which they almost figure as "It". *

On April 12 some of the company's specialists made a strike in the form of a large, well stocked wine cellar. That evening every man in the company had a bottle of wine or alleged cognac or both. Results: you guessed it! Ernie Ulrich became so uninhibited as to talk back to l/Sgt J. J. Rajchel and so parted company with his chevrons.

The next day we started getting ready for a big move. The Germans were surrendering by tens of thousands and our task was finished in this sector. The following morning, accompanied by a cold drizzle, we started north and east and kept going for twenty-four hours until we reached Broitzem just outside of Brunswick. All night during our trip great flocks of our bombers droned across the sky and we knew that Berlin must be taking the pasting of its life. Brunswick had been terribly battered; however, "the afternoon of April 18 some unknown genius (Jack Winters) in the company located a bird's nest on the ground so to speak, in the form of the city's lager. Herein were contained vast stores of foodstuffs and allied supplies but most important to us, a huge wine cellar measuring twice the size of the ground floor of a GI barracks and just loaded with juices of sundry vintages. To be brutally frank, there was every damn drink imaginable there in great quantity except Scotch and bourbon. Not being a crowd to overlook a good thing when we saw it, we of course loaded all available vehicles to capacity just in case some careless individual came down with a case of snakebite, natcherly. Nobody did, so we had to drink the stuff to keep it from evaporating. It sure was a tough war.

Most of the company worked on maintenance while recon patrols headed for the Elbe River. It was discovered that the German Army had become extinct in our sector so peace was thoroughly soaked up for a few days. While near Brunswick promotions caught up with some of the fellows. Chicken Wallace was promoted to sergeant; Denver Blaylock to corporal; Jack Winters. Jim Thacker and Ed Novack became technicians fifth grade. Ed Kriger came up with an "Achin Back" and left the company. John Nowels took over his job as mail clerk in addition to his responsibilities as draftsman and permanent guard.

At long last Captain Rickard secured a pistol, a Luger. He had a shoulder holster made for it, but decided he wanted a finer one. Taking his peep and Jim Thacker, leather expert, he went to a German leather goods shop in Brunswick in search of more holsters, Upon entering the shop the Captain removed his pistol and placed it on a nearby table, while he looked through the German's stock. A lad of around ten picked up the weapon to look at it. 'Ther was a round in the chamber! The safety was faulty as the Captain had pointed out to the company armorer the preceding day, at which time the armorer had informed the Captain that it would take but a few moments to fix it; but the Captain had said wait until a more convenient time. The German boy was sharply reprimanded and told to put the weapon down. Startled, the boy fumbled the pistol and in grabbing at it accidentally grasped the trigger discharging the weapon. The bullet struck the Captain high in the right thigh, broke the bone, severed the artery, passed through and lodged in the left leg severing the in that leg. The Captain lost a great quantity of blood before the medics, Olson and Murphy, got to him and stopped the flow. Lt. O'Rourke took command of the company. Captain Rickard was awarded, so we were informed; the Bronze Star and the Oak Leaf Cluster to his Purple Heart!

* Written by Jack Winters; natcherly.