Nearing the end of the war in the European Theatre of Operations, Americans were bypassing a lot of German troops, especially in the forests. We would stick to the roads, and the Krauts would hide in the woods. The Americans were moving fast, and our outposts were spread out. There was no set front line. We halted our advance at night to rest and regroup, then moved forward at dawn the next day. That was the norm. Well, this one night, orders came down from squadron headquarters to send out a patrol to see if the road through the forest was clear. It was to be a two-jeep patrol, with four GIs.
The sergeant in charge was a replacement we received from the states, a few days prior to this action. He had absolutely no combat experience, plus a young teenager who was also just from the states. He looked like he should still be in grade school. To round out this fearsome foursome was Cpl. Negri, and a PFC Bender. The sergeant was to drive the first jeep, Bender the second, with me and the teenager operating the machine guns. Now, Bender was a true ‘Sad Sack’. He was a big likeable lazy southerner who liked to drink when it was available. It was always, ‘Lordy’ this or ‘Lordy’ that. The only time I ever saw him fire a gun was at a chicken. He missed the hen eight straight times with a 45-automatic pistol from a few feet away. He had found a bottle of booze while ransacking a German farmhouse we had overrun.
This patrol was shaping up to be a suicide mission. I was praying the road was clear. Each jeep had a machine gun mounted on the passenger side of the vehicle. Mine was a 50-caliber taken from a downed P47 fighter plane. A very potent weapon, the other jeep had a 30-caliber machine gun, and knowing who was driving, and who was manning the gun, made me very uneasy.
You know how a murder mystery book starts out, “It was a dark and starless night?” Well, it was! We were inching along the road for about a mile and couldn’t see more than a few yards ahead of us. I was hoping the Krauts were blind and deaf. I was saying my prayers and humming to myself when it happened. From the portside, I heard two distinct explosions. Oh crap!
Instinctively I jumped out of the slow-moving jeep and swung my 50-caliber gun to the left toward the noise and light from the explosions. I figured they were ground troops firing panzerfausts. No big guns or tanks. If it had been a tank, we would have been history by then. I pressed the butterfly trigger on my gun, and it didn’t fire. Before I could figure out what was wrong, the jeep took off fast leaving me in the roadside ditch. “Oh shit, what else could go wrong?” All I could think of was, why me? I was now all alone in the forest. I was surrounded by hostiles, two green American soldiers, and Bender. I wondered if everybody was as scared as I was. I was in a ditch on foot and all I had for a weapon was my luger pistol. If the Krauts captured me, they would probably use it to blow my brains out. Then I rationalized that they would never take a prisoner at night. They would kill me. I would have done the same thing if our roles were reversed. So of course, I kept my pistol.
Now I had two choices, go forward or go back. If I went back, Bender, if I went forward, the green sergeant who left me in the ditch. Would I laugh about this tomorrow? Will there be a tomorrow for me? As far as I was concerned the mission was completed. No, the road isn’t clear! But it was clear to me I had to get to the jeep, my 50-caliber gun, and make sure the gun was loaded this time. I crawled up to the road and started to fast walk. I went about 500 yards and ran into Sargent Greenie. He had brains enough to wait for me, and brains enough not to come back for me. We then carried out our mission. We eventually ran into an American tank who was guarding the road from their end. Why he didn’t blast us, I’ll never know. We had more luck than we deserved. I guess no one likes to give away their position at night.
So, do you want to know what happened to Bender? As soon as he heard the two blasts, he got excited and decided to turn the jeep around and go back to the Command Post. The rookie P.F.C. jumped out of the jeep and lay on the road. Bender then ran over him with the jeep, breaking the P.F.C.’s leg. Bender stopped, picked up the casualty and drove him back to the medics. Viola! The P.F.C. got a Purple Heart medal for being wounded in action and was sent home as a hero! When I got back, I had to look for some clean underwear.
As I look back, the fact that my gun didn’t fire might have saved my life. On the 50-caliber gun, every fifth bullet was a tracer. I would have given away my position and given the Krauts a target. I just hated patrols, and the night ones were the pits.
You can see this mission wasn’t like the movie versions of today.
Editor’s note: the identity of ‘Sergeant Greenie’ is undetermined. Possible candidates are the following men who arrived as replacements late in the war.
T/Sgt Harold D. Rowen, 6275314, 29 Jan 45.
Sgt Henry B. Bolstad, 37081244, 2 Feb 45.
T/Sgt Woodrow A. Thomas, 37081155, 1 Apr 45.
S/Sgt Raymond E. Brown, 6939313, 26 Apr 45.