The 24th Calvary was on the move again. Two jeeps and four men were sent forward to scout the road to an intended target. We were to look for mines, blown bridges, Krauts, etc. The plan was to stop at a certain point on the map and wait for the troops to reach us for an attack on a German village. The target was nestled in a valley with hills on both sides. Very picturesque. It was a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to fight there. I was in the second Jeep. The Sergeant in charge had just gotten his stripes, and he was a Gung Ho type of guy. You want to get a GI killed or wounded, promote him. To quote General Patton, you can't push cooked spaghetti, you got to pull it. Me? I like my pasta al dente.
We finally reached the stopping point designated on the map. I breathed a sigh of relief. I am content to wait for the big boys, you know, like tanks, gun carriers, armored cars, stuff like that. I was tired of being a canary. You ever hear that statement? Run it up the flagpole, and see who will salute it? I think the army brass strategy was run it out in front, and see who will shoot it. I put my jeep in a defensive position, making sure my machine gun was loaded as I was humming to myself that old Army song "Gee ma I wanna go home".
Sergeant Gung Ho told me he was taking his jeep down into the valley and scout around a wee bit. No, no, no. I say to myself, wait for the rest of the troops. Remember what happened to Custer and his men, especially his men. My ESP was bad, he went anyway. Well, I'm sure you can guess what happened. They drove a little way into the valley and, of course, they get fired upon wounding Gung Ho. The Sergeant and his driver leave the jeep to find some cover. Now they are trapped. Defensive positions are mostly on high ground, where soldiers have better visibility and can shoot down on the attackers. I was contemplating my next move when my problem was solved. The big boys arrived, and the captain took over.
In retrospect, I am saddened by what happened next. You must understand that captains were the closest we had to father figures in the army. They were generally older and more understanding than the lieutenants. If you had a good one, he was always looking out for his men, and we hated to see him in harm's way. We looked up to him, respected him, and he in turn took care of us.
When he arrived, there was no indecision on his part, “Attack in force. Let's rescue our boys”! On the captain’s command, our tanks and gun runners drove into the valley, those of us in jeeps, grabbed our rifles and went along on foot. I am certain that if the Germans had seen what they had to face, they would have given up without a fight. It was too late now.
Into the valley we went. The town was defended by older men and Hitler youth boys. With no tanks or artillery. Most of the soldiers were slaughtered. We were firing 3-inch guns into patches of troops. I saw bodies flying in the air. It was sad to see some Germans who had given up to the first wave, killed by the Americans in the second. This was not our finest hour. Perhaps if Sergeant Gung Ho would have done what he was told, this slaughter could have been avoided. Instead, he got a Purple Heart and got sent back to the states as a hero. I did what I was told and got to fight another day.
Now this is not the end of this sad chapter. We assembled on the main road to enter the town. We then spotted two Kraut soldiers on the side of the hill trying to escape. Our trip was fresh from a glorious rescue and victory and in a good mood. The Krauts were about 1/2 mile away and some of the GIs fired at them. One Kraut hid behind a farm cart. The other fell to the ground, his overcoat spread eagled. He was playing possum. Our armored cars carried a 37-millimeter gun. It used a 1 1/2-inch shell.
The gun was more accurate than a rifle. The cart was destroyed with two shots, and so was the soldier. About five or six GIs decided to inspect the bodies for loot, when they narrowed the distance from where they were by half. They all decided to fire at the one with the coat again. When they finally reached him, they found a quivering mass of humanity. He must have been shot 100 times or more. He had many bullet holes in his overcoat, but the only wound he sustained was a nick along his neck. I wonder if he ever stopped shaking and crying. He was only 17 or 18 years old.
I saw very few soldiers killed with bullets, artillery was the big eliminator. It's sad to imagine that human beings could behave in such a heartless manner. The suffering and misery of the enemy did not affect us at all. I guess we figured today it was them. Tomorrow it may be us. What saddened me most was to run across a dead woman or child. I said I only saw that once.
We were moving forward through a small town, and they were lying in the street. It was devastating. I closed my eyes and said a prayer.
I have one last item to add to this chapter. Our captain was a class military man. Whenever possible, he would try to get hot food up to us and do whatever possible to ease our discomfort. I remember what he said when I attended my first noncom meeting. "Men! I am on your side, whether you are right or wrong. Please try to be right".
You got that, Sergeant Gung Ho? In my small way, I showed my appreciation. I made sure he didn't have to write a Dear Mother letter.
Editor’s note: ‘Sergeant Gung Ho’ is tentatively identified as Sgt Joseph J. Doornhaag Jr (36407317) who was wounded in Olsberg, Germany, on April 5 1945.
The captain to whom Joe refers is Capt. Brooks Ogden Norman (O-454406).