Tracers, noise and fear

Something made me attach myself to one of our MG 42's (Maschinengewehr = machine gun), give it a clean and general look over. Then I went down to the street, where there were ammunition boxes left behind. I picked up a couple, making sure there were definitely no tracer bullets in them.

My best friend Albert Zucker wanted me to come along and see whether we could snatch a deserted Yankee vehicle, standing in the no man's land. We crawled along the edge of the road to get nearer. I was terrified with his idea, because the Yanks were unceasingly firing at this spot. We had to give up and crawl back. The same night the telephone cable needed repairs near that deserted vehicle. Here one of our telephone operators was killed. He was buried in front of a bush beside the road.

22.12.1944. Late afternoon a counter attack started. First there were bullets whistling through the air. This made me find a spot on the field, near the cannons with my MG 42. I made adjustments and waited. Our own big Guns started firing from behind. With a terrible mistake, they aimed too short. Now we got shot at from front and back. Pretty close too; causing quite a panic.

Tracer bullets were coming from spots on the opposite hill. It was time to act, aiming and firing a few rounds. There were no more tracers coming from that place. I repeated this action many times until no more tracers came from anywhere. This all went on until deep into the night. Somebody was looking for our NCO, who was hiding in a dug-out. The noise around was horrible. I prayed to God to please save me. God must have heard this non-believer down there, shaking in terrible fear.

To the right of us, in the bush, some soldiers started screaming. A mortar group suffered a direct hit. With explosions everywhere, this was real war. Finally it slowly ended. The attack had been repelled. After this I ended up in St. Vith in Belgium. One cannon went further forward, and the other stayed here; so did I. Talking about hair raising moments that waited for me; this was a town to be avoided.

My stay over night was in the house in which General Rundstedt had been before. His telephone switchboard was still operating in the garage. Here I found a spot in the corner of the garage, alongside the outside brick wall, to settle down. Discovering the surroundings, another Jabo (Jagd-Bomber = fighter-bomber) went for me, but he also must have aimed at something else. Next thing, I was standing in a house that had no cellar, when a bomber decided to drop his goodies. Not very nice, I can tell you.

I'd rather walk than get a lift with the SS, and a lucky escape from P38 attack

My luck again! The enemy was retreating and I was ordered to walk overnight to a site, suitable to place our cannons. This spot was only pointed out to me on a map. When I tried to get a lift, I noticed SS soldiers on the vehicle; forget about it! Still today, I very much dislike their black uniforms, with a silvery skull displayed on it. There was a general dislike attached to this type of army, by the ordinary German soldier. Another miracle was when I found the correct spot without misfortunes of any kind. It was still dark.

A small shelter in the nearby bush was already waiting for me, to have a well deserved sleep. I woke up hearing planes buzzing around. These were not the promised 3000 Germans. These were British twin-tailed fighter bombers. They went directly down onto the Jerry Flak (Flieger Abwehr Kanone = aeroplane defence cannon), until the Flak was out of action. Those pilots displayed enormous courage. Along came two officers of our company, telling me that the Americans had retreated much further than expected and our cannons had already gone past this hide-out.

On the way they disclosed very bad news. My company was attacked by those enemy planes. Four of the RSO's, and two cannons were destroyed. Four men lost their lives, whilst hiding underneath the Cannons. The No.1 Gunner position ended here; my cannon was 'kaput'. The only thing left was one of the two vehicles, on which there was my gear. Here was another reason for me to be sad but also happy. Another miracle, that I was not there, at the time of the attack.

On my way walking along a road, this bomber decided to have a go at me, at least that is exactly what it looked like. It turned around and started to dive, leaving a lot of small black clouds behind it and then an egg came out from under it. Man did I speed for shelter, and fell down on my face. "BOOM". That was a bit far away. He had aimed at the road, not me. Now I know, those little clouds represented his cannon firing real bullets. 

I finally found my Company hiding at the edge of a bush. In front of this position was a small valley and behind it, not very far, tree covered hills. Did I tell you that it was winter? There was plenty of snow and it was ice-cold outside. The idea of a warm room was always on my mind. No luck; first a hole in the ground, and on the bottom pine tree twigs as a bed, and over the top some branches to keep the snow out. In addition a couple of times during the night, was my turn as sentry for two hours. It was cold alright, very cold.

A German soldier fills an officer's boots with water, and the Battle of the Bulge begins

Nearly every night a couple of shells were returned to the opposition. Some success reports came back from the observer position. During November 1944, three soldiers of our group were wounded near our hide-out. They came screaming for help to us. We did our best. An ambulance had to take them away. We were at war and the unexpected could happen any time. I never comprehended how close it could come to me.

My unwanted job, besides bringing food to the officer, was also cleaning his boots daily. Very angry about it, I simply filled the boots with water in the evening and delivered them wet in the morning. That did it. I was part of a group sent to the front line one night. The company's lookout post there had to be moved to another position. Places on the way were under enemy fire. We had to wait until the enemy stopped firing and then run for our life.

It was still November 1944. Safely back early in the morning, there was bad news; very bad for me. My young friend and others were walking along the road to pick up the meals for the company, when a shell exploded right above them in a tree. One soldier was badly wounded and my friend died on the spot. The funeral was near Rommersheim. I had to climb into the open grave and remove the cover from his face so a photo could be taken. Firing the salute, that was all we could do for him.

From then on, my way to the kitchen was right behind us over the hill. One night I was peacefully sitting there, when a fragment went right next to my arm through the timber post, hitting the opposite wall. Was someone after me? We kept this position for some time.

During one night, in early December 1944, came the order to move to the West Wall near the township of Ormond. Here were Bunkers and Tank traps near the German-Belgian border. Pictures of deserters were displayed, with the notice of the death sentence for them, in absence.
We waited for the big event to happen. It did shortly before Christmas. The officer that made the announcement, mentioned 3000 German planes in the air, next morning.

16.12.1944 at midnight it started. We were only onlookers from a West Wall pillbox, at this stage. There was quite a noise and fireworks started. Launcher grenades, by the dozens, went over us with a terrible whistle and fire trail. It was the start of the Rundstedt Offensive (Battle of the Bulge).

It's a real story, with real people

This blog is a real autobiography of a rebellious German soldier. It includes letters to home while was a prisoner after the second world war ended in Belgium, where we worked for about two years on war cemeteries digging graves and exhuming bodies. (Henry Chapelle for example) He was also my father.

He wrote his autobiography in 1995, it's metculous and more thoughtful than I'd expect from him to have written in English. At times, he writes of things he never spoke of while he breathed. He's dead now, but I think he'd enjoy this blog technology a lot, as he was a creative, inventive guy.

I'll be adding excerpts each week or so...