Merry Christmas 1944 – World War 2

Today is exactly 56 Christmases from Christmas 1944. That long ago Christmas is still vivid in my memory. We were Holland somewhere close to the lower Rhine called the Neder Rhine. Every three weeks or so my artillery battery left its regular winter gun positions and traveled to a more forward temporary gun position called a Harassing Fire position (HF). The purpose was to shell the enemy from several different positions over the course of the winter, thus keeping the Germans off balance and at the same time save our more permanent positions from heavy return fire.

---

At the time I was unaware of the seriousness of the Battle of the Bulge against the Americans that had begun December 16th well south of us in Belgium. I later learned that we were also sent to keep the Germans busy so that they would not move elements of their forces from our front to reinforce their attack. In fact, after Christmas we ran nightly patrols in case an enemy parachute attack was launched against us to stall any attempt on our part to attack their forces. Several weeks later we had to move our guns 100 miles or so south to guard against a breakthrough to the vital port of Antwerp, the objective of the German attack. Fortunately the American won the battle.

Back to our Story

It was a very cold bright sunny day with a light snow cover on the ground. Our HF position was located on a flat piece of grassy frozen ground near a forest in back of us. A deep valley began about 250 yards in front and the river ran along the floor of the valley across our front from east to west. The Germans were somewhere in the tree line across the other side of the river a mile or so away. As soon as we parked our signal vehicle (called an HUP) and netted (tuned) our radios in to the guns, located somewhere back of us we were ordered to help dig out our HF battery’s command post. The command post was merely a trench about 20 feet long and 8 feet wide with a shelf cut in the side towards the enemy. The shelf would be used as a a map table and a place for communications and target spotting instruments. Over the top of the trench we constructed a log roof allowing about 7 feet of headroom. The logs were laid lengthwise and rested on earth filled sandbags laid around the sides but leaving a 12 foot aperture towards the river so there was a wide field of vision. It was open to the wind and there was no heat in the dugout. On the top of the logs several sheets of thin linoleum were laid and the earth piled on the linoleum about 2 feet thick. Over this we piled the frozen turf from the original diggings to keep the earth in place. On the western end of the dugout steps were cut out and a doorway left for an entrance/exit. This was covered by a piece of canvas to act as a door. All in all, a very crude and cold place to work but it was only built for a maximum of three days usage. To enable the command post to communicate with the guns we ran an extension signal cable from our HUP, parked about 50 feet east of the command post so that the Major in charge could call down fire as soon as we cleared communications to the guns. We chose the location to avoid the enemy seeing a group of vehicles all in one place. We were barely visible to the command post and hopefully the enemy because we were tucked in close to the trees that angled back from the command post. Once netted in, it was our duty to stay in the HUP and keep constant watch for signals either from our HF command post or the guns.

Oh What a Lovely War

The three of us in the HUP (2 signalers and a driver) were contented and things were humming along just fine. We had called down several rounds of ranging fire so that the Major knew the guns were properly calibrated and then we fired maybe half a dozen brief barrages on targets of opportunity, nothing very serious. There we were chatting, listening to music on a small radio we had looted; nice and warm and dry in our comfortable truck. We ate our pre packed lunch sandwiches and enjoyed our coffee. Nice sunny day, birds chirping in the bush nearby. In fact, we were looking forward to being relieved for a Christmas dinner that evening back at the Headquarters – and a movie. The movie was “Stormy Weather” with Lena Horne; I’d seen it four times already but what a doll! All seemed right with the world this Christmas day. Around about 2:00 PM we had a few Kraut shells fall some 100 yards away and one or two in the bush behind us. No sweat. But then it happened! We heard the rattle and roar of tanks nearby. Looking to our right towards the enemy a parade of some 16 Sherman tanks (our tanks) were slowly crossing in front of us along the edge of the valley, totally in view of the enemy. “What the hell are they doing? Jeeze these guys are nuts we said, they’re going to get us killed!” Tanks are prime targets and they attract enemy attention, so it didn’t surprise us when the Kraut shells began to increase in intensity. Soon they were falling all around us and exploding in the trees near us; one landed close by and we heard the smack as a piece of it struck our thin skinned vehicle. I remember saying, “no good us sitting up here” (the HUP sat high off the ground). So the driver dove out his door for cover underneath the truck and its heavy engine. We two signalers quickly attached our extension cords to our radios, opened the side door behind our backs and rolled under the truck between the rear wheels. Soon we were under a full barrage with 88 shells sizzling in with their distinctive ZZZWACK! ZZZWACK! high velocity sounds. Other larger shells whistled in and shook the ground when they exploded. Smoke and the acid smell of cordite stung the nostrils and some of the concussions were stupendous. A number of the shells exploded in the branches of the nearby trees with great flashes, bangs and branches flying everywhere. All I remember was swearing and shouting to myself; “You bastards can’t hit me! You bastards can’t hit me! Then I felt wet low down on my left leg. I couldn’t look down because I was jammed up against the truck’s left wheel and for a moment thought I must have been hit but then I smelled gasoline and figured the gas tank must have been punctured and was soaking my trouser leg. I feared for a minute the gas might catch fire but now I heard shouting and yelling and calls for help from the command post. Looking over to their dugout I could see smoke and flames from near the entrance of the dugout. As soon as the shells let up for a minute all of us ran over and found the entrance caved in and the linoleum on top set on fire by a shell that had hit the roof by the entrance way. The men were trapped inside. We ran for our shovels and soon had most of the fire out and lifted the logs out of the way so the guys could get out. Fortunately, nobody was badly hurt but a few had inhaled too much smoke and some suffered minor burns and bruises. Fortunately the tanks had passed on and soon the shellfire began to let up.

The Aftermath

Everyone was thankful we were all ok. We managed to sort things out and patched the HUP up. The Sergeant Major called me aside and asked me if I could ride a motorcycle and I said yes. He said well one of our men is slightly wounded, but we need to get him back to HQ right away, do you know the way back. I said yes, so long as someone could point me to the main roadway. So I had to cross several frozen, snow covered ploughed fields with a passenger behind (very rough ride) and damn cold but we got back safely. The upshot of it all was that I stayed at HQ for the Christmas dinner and movie. Lena Horne was worth it all. Yes, war has its memorable moments. The funny part is that when I got home to the family the following November 27th 1945, Christmas dinner was just a month away. At that dinner my Dad told me how they had all toasted me the year before and wished me a peaceful and joyful Christmas as well as saying a prayer for my safety. I laughed and told them the story of my Christmas the year before. “It wasn’t peaceful I said, but never mind, your prayer worked and I was saved to come back and haunt you all.”