|
Posted on 08/20/2003 12:00:15 AM PDT by SAMWolf
|
|
 are acknowledged, affirmed and commemorated.
|
| 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.
|
|
K.I.A. Awarded D.S.C. "A" Battery 155 17th Airborne Division My Longest Day The Rhine River has served as Germany's natural western defensive barrier for centuries. By March 1945, the Rhine was the final barrier separating the Allies from the heart of Germany. Plans were underway to cross this barrier and capture the Ruhr, Germany's industrial heartland. With the capture of the Ruhr, Germany's war machine would eventually collapse.  This photo shows a more complete view of the formation, which took up slightly more than half of the west runway at the 439th TCG's airfield (A-39), Châteaudun, France. According to one observer, "no one who saw the double-tow take-offs was likely to forget them." Gliders on short tow behind the C-47 towships were on standard towropes, which were 350 ft. long. Gliders on long-tow were on 425 ft. ropes. The ropes were made of nylon, 11/16" in diameter. During takeoff, gliders became airborne first, but then had to stay low to allow the power pilot to rotate after the C-47 had its tail up. Gliders came perilously close to each other and to the ground during takeoffs, but none crashed (on takeoff). Jim Murphy and I met in an infantry replacement depot in France. Both of us were eighteen years old and discovered that we had a lot in common. We were eager volunteers for the "17th Airborne Division." We were assigned to 1st. Squad, A Battery, 155 Battalion., in Chalon, France. They had been in the Battle of the Bulge with everyone killed or wounded except the squad leader. After 2 weeks of torturous physical training, interdispursed with piling in and out of airplanes and gliders, we received our wings and a raise in pay. Within three days, we were in a marshaling area looking over maps of a little town named Wesel and a bridge that crossed the Rhine river into Germany. We squeezed into this egg crate in what seemed to be the middle of the night. At dawn's light, the view through the window was both awesome and majestic. The sky was filled with planes and gliders as far as the eye could see. Strangely, I felt like more like a spectator then a participant in this event. The ride got bumpy and I could feel my stomach turning. I fought this feeling until I saw Murphy throwing up, followed by the rest of the rest of the squad and myself. It was one big stinking mess. I was in a state of disgust with myself, but was shaken out of it when I saw these big, black puffs of smoke all around us. The realization that this was flack from enemy A.A. guns brought me to the ready; someone was trying to kill me! We jumped out of that stinking mess in what seemed a split second. The next two hours in and around the drop zone, was confusing and chaotic. As I now look back, the events flash through my mind like a kaleidoscope. The squad spread out all over the place, crawling on our bellies trying to get together. Enemy small arms fire was picking off men who dare to kneel or stand up. Mortar shells were opening up the ground here and there. Gliders were landing in every direction, tearing themselves up by hitting houses, telephone poles and power lines. C-47s were being shot down like sitting ducks as they exposed their bellies in banking maneuvers after dropping their cargo. A B-24 was 100 feet up, directly over my head, with its wings aflame and a guy pushing cargo out the door.  Seconds later, we witnessed a thunderous explosion as the plane hit the tree line. I was to see many men get killed or wounded that day. I saw a trooper who had his cheek torn open by small arms fire. He stood there, his helmet down around his neck, blood running down his face and body. With a boiling anger in his eyes, legs spread apart, he began pumping lead from a grease gun into a house 100 feet away. Within seconds he was blown away by small arms fire. Whoever he was, I will never forget him. I’d been on the ground now for over two hours; all I could think of was survival and finding someone to give me orders or direction. Finally, our squad leader got us all together. As we moved out of the drop zone, I kept hearing this snapping and popping at my ears. When I asked Sam Strain, a veteran trooper, about the noise, he informed me that a sniper had me in his sights. Every so often a shell would come lobbing in with deadly accuracy, hitting a jeep or piece of our artillery. I learned to keep my distance from them. I had always loved trees; I was now beginning to fear them. A shell hitting a tree would splinter it into a multitude of fragments, showering death all around it. Within hours, we began taking prisoners. Every so often, Sam Strain would fall back with two or three of them, and within a very short time he would rejoin us. I wondered where Sam had taken the prisoners. Cpl. John Gillespie informed me that Sam was "taking care of them", and that we could expect the same if captured. The unwritten word was that German paratroopers were taking no airborne prisoners and neither were we. My thirst for revenge became aroused as I saw our men lying helpless and dying along this bloody trail. I tried to help one of them who has been hit by a tree burst. The right side of his body had been slashed open, part of the tree still lodged in it. I yelled for a medic, I became somewhat hysteric as Cpl. Gillespie grabbed me by the arm and told me to keep moving.  At the front of the 439th Troop Carrier Group, 23 March 1945, marshaled for the next day's takeoff. Destination LZ S, east of the Rhine River. This mission was the largest combat double-tow mission in history. Airfield is A-39, Châteaudun, France. Tugs are positioned more than half-way down the west runway, and the first 10 ships, including Col. Young's Argonia at the head of the southern stream, finished their takeoff rolls in the wheat field off the end of the runway. Note the patched bomb craters. After experiencing the destruction artillery can cause, learned to hate and fear trees, I soon developed the same fear when crossing open fields. We came upon an open field and began crossing it when the fury of German artillery busted loose. The air bursts were about fifty feet overhead raining shrapnel down upon us. I saw Murphy jump into an abandoned German foxhole, and I decided to do the same. I then felt the butt of Sgt. Strudsky’s rifle on my helmet and heard his orders to "Get out and keep moving." That was the last order Sgt. Strudsky ever gave me; ten minutes later he was killed along with two of my squad members. Cpl. Gillespie was now our squad leader. We had no sooner stopped for a break when he shouted. "Okay guys, on your feet. Let's go." I soon realized that this was a special assignment when only our squad moved out to the edge of another open field and Lt. Mandress was with us. Affectionately called Mandy by his men, I would soon learn to both love him and to hate him. He had volunteered our squad to move out into the field, which was about 2 miles across, in order to test the enemy strength on the other side. As we had just lost our squad leader and two veterans, I wondered why he picked the remnants of a squad which included two rookies. Sam Strain remarked, "Any leader always wants the best with him on a mission, it makes his job easier, but its our ass." We walked out into the field at a very slow pace. I could see a farmhouse which was close to the tree line at the opposite side of the field. Mandy headed us in a direct line to it. We were midway between our lines and the farmhouse when all hell broke loose. Mortar shells came lobbing in from the German side of the field from behind the farmhouse. Seeing Murphy and Tom Burnard jump into a shell crater, I jumped in behind them. Within seconds, the rest of the squad was lying on top of us. Mandy ordered us to get up and spread out. Cpl. Gillespie asked, "Can’t we wait for our outfit to give us some covering fire first?" Sam Strain remarked "Them bastards have probably taken off!". The mortar shell bursts were getting closer and closer to our crater. It would not be long before they had us zeroed in. Without saying a word, Sam Strain crawled out of the crater. The next thing I knew, he was on his knees with a bazooka over his shoulder, aiming at the enemy tree line. Boom! It went off. Gillespie fed him two more shells. Boom! Boom! He had evidently hit something as the mortar shelling ceased. We then crawled out of the crater. Sam Strain had saved all our lives through his heroic action. I thought to myself, "It’s going to be a long run back to our lines." My heart jumped to my throat and then sank again as Mandy started running towards the farmhouse yelling, "Let's go! Let’s go!" My lungs were bursting as I tried to keep up with him.  A glider, which had forced landed 10 miles from the drop zone, came into view as we approached the farmhouse. It had taken a direct hit in its nose and was almost demolished. We ran into the farmhouse as small arms fire traced our steps. The house was occupied by a farmer and his daughter. They were tending the wounds of a trooper who had crawled in from the glider. The trooper said he thought someone might still be alive in the glider. The words were no sooner said than Sam Strain grabbed his carbine and took off towards the glider. He was no further than 100 feet when the Germans opened fire on him. He knelt down and returned their fire. About this time Mandy yelled out "Cover him!" He had no sooner yelled the warning when Sam must have been hit square between the eyes. His head jerked back and his helmet popped off behind him. Throughout the day, Sam Strain had become my role model. Now he was lying dead in a German field. I joined the rest of the squad in a cry of vengeance, emptying our rifle clips into the German tree line. As I reloaded my clip, it took all I could muster in order to keep from trembling. I peered over the windowsill into the tree line and could see figures pop up and then disappear. I followed one figure and kept him in my sights, squeezing off 3 rounds before I realized what I was doing. I could tell that I had hit him by the way he jerked and then fell. I had been firing at tree lines all day, but this was the first human being I had ever knowingly killed or wounded. Gillespie had seen the German soldier fall through his binoculars. He remarked, "Nice shooting trooper." Up until now they had referred to us as "hey you" or "sh*tface." Mandy gathered us together and said, "We have to get back to our lines." "We'll start out together, but we may have to split up and it will be every man for himself." Some of the men started grumbling , "How about the wounded trooper", "how about Sam Strain , we can’t leave them." When Gillespie asked for volunteers, the grumbling stopped. The sun had set. The plan was to try and make it back before it was too dark to see, but still not enough light for Gerry to zero in on us from the tree line. Gillespie looked at me and said, "Okay, I’m going to take off. You count to 10 and then take off after me. The rest of you guys follow Jack the same way." Mandy grabbed my arm and said "Okay, you hold it right here." I could hear the Germans open fire as Gillespie took off with the bullets kicking dust up around him. I counted to 5 and froze. Mandy let go of my arm and shouted "Go kid, go!" The squad was halfway across the field when Gillispie stopped and waved us all down. Within seconds, machine gun fire came whistling over us.
|
"A slipping gear could let your M203 grenade launcher fire when you least expect it. That would make you quite unpopular in what's left of your unit" -Army's magazine of preventive maintenance
My favorite, just the right sense of warped humor.
hehe....I liked that one a lot too, SAM, for the same reason.
I completely agree, Sam.
Thanks Phil, this was great. I'm behind but never forget to read your posts!
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.
