Posted on 07/06/2005 2:11:03 AM PDT by SAMWolf
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are acknowledged, affirmed and commemorated.
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Our Mission: The FReeper Foxhole is dedicated to Veterans of our Nation's military forces and to others who are affected in their relationships with Veterans.
Where the Freeper Foxhole introduces a different veteran each Wednesday. The "ordinary" Soldier, Sailor, Airman or Marine who participated in the events in our Country's history. We hope to present events as seen through their eyes. To give you a glimpse into the life of those who sacrificed for all of us - Our Veterans.
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A retired soldier recounts the fear and excitement of his first day of combat as a nineteen-year-old GI in November 1944--and how his desire for a souvenir almost turned that first day on the line into his last. As I traveled through the replacement pipeline, the few friends I had made during the crossing went to other units. I knew no one in the group who joined F Company, now in reserve building its strength in the village of Haute-Vigneulle in Lorraine. There were occasional shell bursts, but the unit was not seriously bothered by them. I was impressed by my warlike surroundings, though the veterans were unaffected. They had seen much worse and now luxuriated in the relative peace. This idyll was about to end. On November 24, an officer told us that the next morning we would descend the south slope of a nearby valley and cross a small stream, destroying whatever enemy we encountered. We would then drive up the north slope and seize its crest. The two Maginot Line bunkers glaring down from that promontory, sited for all-around defense, need not trouble us, he said; artillery would deal with them. Difficulties were minimized, and the briefing ended. The officer did not disclose the purpose of the drive. In any case, the men of F Company did not care. The immediate front, not high strategy, was our real concern, and we replacements worried most about how we would endure the utterly new experience that awaited us. Actually, it was a major effort, involving the whole of the Fifth and Eightieth Infantry divisions against the Falkenberg Stellung (Falkenberg Position), defended by the Thirty-sixth Volksgrenadier (People's Infantry) Division. The Thirty-sixth was understrength and not well-equipped, though it was augmented by a battalion or two from the 347th Infantry Division. The Americans would attack with three infantry regiments, a tank battalion and two tank destroyer battalions in close support. A five-minute artillery bombardment would precede the operation. Late that afternoon we were led to the top of the south slope and told to dig in just below the crest in two-man teams. Excavating the thick, clayish soil, soaked by weeks of rain, was an ordeal. The day soon became night. When my foxhole companion and I had to answer the call of nature, we slid out of our hole as best we could. A faint light suffused our surroundings, for the heavy cloud cover could not completely hide the full moon. While we attended to our needs, there was a blinding flash and a shattering explosion. An enemy mortar had zeroed in on our position; its alert crew must have seen faint movement and dropped a ready shell into the barrel. It was almost a direct hit--all that saved us was that glutinous clay that had made our digging so difficult earlier in the day. The shell buried itself, exploded, and rained clumps of clay upon our prostrate forms. It was a narrow escape. A Hollywood war movie would have had us philosophizing at length over the meaning of this adventure in light of the experience we were to undergo the next day. Drenched and miserable, however, we exchanged scarcely a word as the two of us slithered back into our hole. We huddled in our watery shelter and awaited the dawn. When it came, F Company assembled in the slowly gathering light and moved down the hill in a skirmish line. The rain had almost stopped, and the valley ahead could be seen through the trees. In the dimness, I could make out other companies on our right. As we moved forward, our shells were striking the north slope and its bunkers, but this activity and the closer sounds of machine guns and rifles went almost unheard by me. I was intent on keeping my place in the line and navigating the slippery slope with its brush and trees. I did feel adequately equipped. I carried five or six eight-round clips for my M-1 rifle, a first-aid packet, a canteen, and a shovel on my cartridge belt. Slung over my shoulders were my gas mask and two bandoleers, each containing six additional clips of M-1 ammunition. In my raincoat pockets were one concussion grenade and two fragmentation grenades. My augmented combat pack, containing items of varying value, weighed thirty-five pounds or so. I was as prepared as possible for whatever destiny might demand. We reached the valley bottom to find that the "small stream" the briefing officer had mentioned was not merely a simple bubbling brook. Rain swollen, the stream had become a swift torrent four or five feet deep. We lowered ourselves into it and gained the opposite bank. After we crossed the stream, the open fields of the valley floor, laced by barbed boundary fences, lay before us. The whole north slope, including the two German bunkers, was in sight. Soon I saw my first enemy soldiers. On my right some twenty yards away, fifteen or twenty men in yellow raincoats moved about. The sight struck me as incredible. Here I was, trudging through a marshy field, climbing barbed-wire fences, drenched to the skin, trying to focus on all that was happening around me, and worrying about sticking to my unit, and then, suddenly, there was the enemy. But then I hesitated. Were they our own men who had unexpectedly gotten in front of us? The fear of firing on comrades was in my thoughts during my entire time on the front line; I could imagine nothing worse. Pushing aside my uncertainty, I fired at the left-most raincoat-clad soldier. He fell. Then, perhaps moved by the excitement of my first shot fired in anger, I fired four more rounds into his presumably lifeless body. The other soldiers in yellow were giving up. We moved on. Continuing across the valley, I fired the three rounds left in my rifle at nothing in particular and inserted a fresh clip. Steady artillery fire hammered the two north-crest bunkers. Then their garrisons ran outside with white flags, and the shelling ceased. That was a relief; if the garrisons had fought seriously, we would have suffered heavily. Hugh Cole's The Lorraine Campaign notes that "these works were now in a poor state...[and] the Germans had little time to familiarize themselves with the Maginot system."
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wing.chez.tiscali.fr
www.80thdivision.com
www.geocities.com/Pentagon/Quarters/6882
www.army.mil
Good morning, Snippy and everyone at the Freeper Foxhole.
Good morning ALL.
The rubber plant I bought for my wife Dorothy added a touch of life to our home. But one morning its leaves were dropping as if in a state of dejection. I wondered what happened. When I came home for lunch that noon, the plant was completely transformed. It looked as hearty as it did the day I got it from the store. Its leaves were extended outward once again. When I asked Dorothy about it, she told me of reading a household hint on how to keep plants looking fresh. It stated that dust accumulating on the leaves can actually prevent the light from getting to them, so it's necessary to wipe them off regularly. She had done this and the result was amazing. As we live in this world, tiny "particles" of sin can easily build up in our lives. Resentments, sharp words, impure thoughts, or selfish attitudes all take their toll on our spiritual vitality. Unless they are confessed right away, they begin to form a layer of "dust" that prevents us from experiencing the light of God's grace in our hearts. Those around us will sense that something is wrong. If the accumulation of unconfessed sin has gathered on your soul, do as David didconfess it to the Lord (Psalm 32:5). Wipe off the "dusty leaves" of your life and enjoy once again the glorious sunshine of God's love. Dennis De Haan
Behold, I prostrate fall; Let every sin be brought to Him And Christ be all in all. Bridges Confession of sin lets the light of God's forgiveness shine through.
The Forgiveness Of God |
On This Day In History
Birthdates which occurred on July 06:
1747 John Paul Jones naval hero ("I have not yet begun to fight")
1796 Nicholas I Russia, Tsar (1825-55)
1818 Adolf Anderssen Prussia, world chess champion (1851-66)
1814 Justus McKinstry, Brig General (Union volunteers), died in 1897
1821 Edward Winston Pettus, Brig General (Confederate Army), died in 1907
1884 Harold Vanderbilt NY, America Cup (1930,34,37)/inv contract bridge
1903 Axel Theorell Sweden, biochemist, studied enzymes (Nobel 1955)
1915 LaVerne Andrews singer The Andrews Sisters
1918 Sebastian Cabot London, actor (Mr French-Family Affair)
1922 William Schallert LA Calif, actor (Martin-Patty Duke Show)
1923 Nancy Davis Reagan NY, 1st Lady (1981-89)
1925 Bill Haley Mich, (& the Comets-Rock Around the Clock)
1925 Merv Griffin San Mateo Calif, TV host (Merv Griffin Show)
1927 Janet Leigh Merced Cal, actress, She's in the shower (Psycho, Harper)
1927 Pat Paulsen comedian, presidential candidate (Smothers Bros Show)
1932 Della Reese Detroit, singer/actress (Della Reese Show, Touched by an Angel)
1937 Gene Chandler [Eugene Dixon], Chicago, rocker (Duke of Earl)
1937 Ned Beatty Lexington Ky, actor (Deliverance, Repossed, Network)
1945 Burt Ward LA Calif, actor (Robin-Batman)
1946 Fred Dryer Hawthone Calif, NFLer (NY Giants, LA Rams)/actor (Hunter)
1946 Jamie Wyeth Penn, artist (An American Vision-Boston)
1946 Sylvester Stallone NYC, actor/director (Rocky, Rambo, Cobra)
1946 George Walker Bush President United States of America
That's a heartbreaker.
One of the best reads on a soldier's life I've read. The young man puts any Hollywierd writer to shame. If I have one criticism it would be his description "I regretted my pusillanimous retreat". No way that word belongs anywhere in his first day of combat.
but on my first day I stared death in the face more than once and behaved, I believe, with reasonable calmness and resolve.
Amen.
Good read today Sam.
!!!
Hi miss Feather.
I found a chess bishop in my shoe today. Hmmm
Aye.
DANG NAB IT
This is a Pigeon Pad Update Bump fore the Wednesday Freeper Foxhole.
Well I was finally able to get the slide fabricated and about halfway installed today before I ran out of time. Had to 'borrow" the neighbor's boys for a few minutes to help me get it lifted into place. 30+ feet of treated 2x12 is heavy!!! I still need to install 1 more guard rail and a finish getting the slide anchored down for good. Have to work tonight so off for a nap before I have to go in.
Regards
alfa6 ;>}
Bitty Girl has struck again.
I bet she is laughing right now.
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