Heroes: the Army
Donald E. "Swede" Larson, 1st Lt.
Co. H., 405th Regiment, 102nd Division [2nd Battalion]
European Theater of Operations
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Down Memory Land with Co. H., 405th
by Donald E. "Swede" Larson
Pt. 3
We stayed here (near Geilenchirken) almost a month. It was peaceful there - now that we look back on it. It gave us a good chance to learn things, to work out problems and better our system of supplies, chow, and clothing. We broke our chow problem down to platoons. Each platoon had a kitchen range and one cook; the mess was served right in each platoon headquarters instead of walking to and from the company headquarters. Our supplies were broken down and each platoon had the responsibility to ration out the new supplies, clothing, mail, and chow.
In the first platoon we had some very efficient men. Arnold Danley, a self-styled carpenter, was always working when he came back from the holes for his break. He built himself a locker to keep his equipment he wasn't using; he built racks for the entire platoon to hang packs, rifles, etc. T/Sgt. Charlie Aldrich liked to cook many and various tidbits for anyone brave enough to eat them. One day he collected all the fresh vegetables from the town's deserted gardens and filled a 15-gallon GI can with cabbage, string beans, turnips, potatoes, and other fresh garden derivatives - to which we added dehydrated beef, rice, and canned beef stew. It simmered for five hours and then we sat down and gorged ourselves on homemade vegetable stew. The next day the other half of the platoon finished it.
While we were perfecting solutions to some of our problems we were learning some of Jerry's tricks and habits. The Germans had a trick of setting up two sections of machine guns - one section firing tracer ammunition quite high in the air. The other section - firing ball ammunition belly high in the same direction - assumed we would see the high tracers and move around freely under it. Then the ball ammunition would rip through the middle of us. But this only happened once. It didn't take long to learn the difference between outgoing and incoming mail (artillery.)
A pot of coffee was always brewing on our kitchen stove for anyone who dropped in for a visit or an inspection. It was considered rude and inhospitable not to have refreshments for anyone at any time of the day or night. A welcome frequent visitor was Chaplain Boudreau [Bernard G.], the Battalion Chaplain, who dropped in for a chat with the boys - sometimes spending the night. He had church services for all those present, any day, any time, and was very, very popular with the GIs as well as the officers.
This tactical trend of war fare ended abruptly and without any pending rumors of change. Under the British command the 84th and 102nd Divisions attacked Geilenkirchen, a fairly large town. We went up to our pillbox to eagerly watch the Air Force pound the city for three or four days with bombing tactics. We would have hated to be on the receiving end of a Yank bombing.
Geilenkirchen was captured and we moved in very cautiously as we had had very little experience with mines and booby traps. We were extremely wary, to say the least. The engineers soon located the booby traps and took care of them. They also marked off the mine fields. We stayed one night - long enough to uncover a large supply of champagne, which was immediately consumed, and to confiscate many mattresses for a good night's sleep. Before we moved out the next day the Luftwaffer came over in force and shot up the area. One slug hit a cement bulkhead to my immediate front and richoched over the house. Santilli [Angelo] and I headed for the cellar.
We moved to Immendorf, just taken by the 406th Inf., our sister regiment. We moved in about midnight and confusion ran amuck as there weren't enough buildings to quarter the troops. This was one of the evils of a Battalion-quartering party from Battalion alone. They found good quarters for battalion men, and then marked off four houses for each company without looking at the houses. Many of the houses had taken direct hits and the only thing standing was the front wall. After this each company sent a quartering party ahead, whenever possible. This time we found a cellar next to a burning Tiger Tank and the entire first platoon and the company headquarters squeezed in. Just as we had cleaned out the dirty debris and junk and settled down to sleep - with someone s feet in your face - an officer's call to Battalion headquarters came over the radio. Moaning and groaning at 2:30 AM, I left my "comfortable" nest to join Mitch and the others and stumbled through the debris to the C.P.
We were to attack the next morning - in exactly 6 hours - and our first objective was about two miles away. We made a preliminary map study and picked out our probable route for reconnaisance. It looked and sounded simple, but what a helluva time for an attack. We moved out at 6:30 AM for reconnaisance, but all I could see was a brick building and that was our guiding point. At least we knew which direction to go. G-2 had given no indication whether there were 202 or 2000 Krauts, but I figured if there had been a strong force we would have been told. Well, let's go and get it over with. I was sleepy.
The Battalion moved out in the regular dispersed formations - two companies forward and the first platoon supporting the left rifle company. We chugged along for almost a mile when riflemen began hitting the dirt. I signalled the platoon to ground equipment and went forward to contact the CO of the rifle company and get the "bi " picture. As crawled forward I heard sharp cracks like fire-crackers and mud spattered around me. I embraced Mother Earth and crawled into my steel helmet. Eventually I contacted the CO but he wasn't sure what was ahead, and no word had come back from his advance scouts as to what was stirring up the hornet's nest. I signalled the platoon to come up behind the CO's dugout and dig in. It began to rain to add to our misery. After laying in the mud several hours the men found enough abandoned Kraut reinforced dugouts to crawl in, wait, and keep somewhat dry.
Lt. Merrill [Clinton G.] came over with his platoon of heavy 30s, and as the situation was pretty well snaffued, his outfit crawled in with mine. As I looked over the area our disposition of machine guns was not very tactful I must admit. There were eight machine guns all grouped in a compact 50-yard circle. We could see our brick building plainly about 300 yds. away. Behind that house the terrain sloped down and the Germans were dug in on the reverse slope. The path of their bullets just cleared the crest of the hill and come down our side about belly-high.
A messenger came back, exhausted from crawling 300 yds. through a beet patch, and reported they were getting fire from two pillboxes on our left and 2 or 3 Tiger tanks located in the orchard. We called for artillery and mortar fire on the orchard and requested tanks. The 81 mortars from the 3rd platoon dropped one round on top of one of the Tigers - and had exactly no effect whatsoever.
I had my first terrifying experience with the German 88 gun at close range. A roar, a scream, and the mud settled before I could hit the ground. What a weapon it was!
Four English tanks roared up - we waved and cheered as they thundered on. WHAM! WHAM! - two tanks hit and the other two retreated hurridly from the hidden Tiger's deadly fire.
During the night I went up to confer with Lt. Kaiser [Laurence J.] from Oregon, a huge, well-liked officer who was checking his men's positions. We agreed that the Heavy 30s would be of little help with such short fields of fire, so the 30s just sat there. The riflemen were tired, but in good spirits. The average GI made good combat men - with a wonderful sense of humor - and loyalty to one another which they carried all through some rough times. As I picked my way through the beet patch, and the foxholes, the riflemen - wet, muddy, miserable and tired - all asked how things were going and still were laughing. I wandered off my course a bit - the dugout was hard to find at night - and I began to have illusions of getting lost and wandering into Kraut lines. Then I heard a whispered "Swede", and sure enough Angie Santilli was peering around to guide me back. I might have still been wandering.
The Battalion medics were really superb in this debacle. Litter squads moved day and night hauling the wounded. The Krauts had absolutely no regard for the huge Red Cross painted on their helmets, arm bands, and red and white vests, so we lost considerable medics too. The litter squad leader I'd like to know his name - stopped by my hole every two hours for a cigarette. They came and went through shell fire, small arms fire, when it was quiet - they moved unarmed. They had a long haul back to the battalion aid station so H Co. men volunteered to drive their jeeps up at night to meet the medics and pick up the wounded. Belvin [Orion H., Jr.], Bender [Henry W.], Aldridge [Charlie T.], Ayers [Sanford E., Jr.] and more were willing to do their best to help. They drove their jeeps right up to within a couple hundred yards of the front line riflemen, somehow missing a mine field, and as usual, gunning hell out of their motors.
Leaving out the details, we were relieved Thursday night, Thanksgiving Day, and we really felt it was a day of Thanksgiving - those who were left were thankful we were still able to be relieved. Good old Uncle Sam hadn't forgotten the day either, because upon arriving at our rest homes that night we had hot turkey, potatoes, gravy and the trimmings. It was a muddy, bedraggled group of soldiers that gathered in the cellar of the house that quartered the first platoon. Everyone just slumped on the floor, rested over a cigarette, and then, a little bit at a time wisecracks and humorous laughter and the normal GI screwball attitude returned. This had been the first hot chow in 3 or 4 days, and for some the first chow in 3 or 4 days.
We rested here two days, about a mile behind the lines, alhtough Jerry did throw in some special greetings. They made us appreciate the reinforced cellars all the more. One afternoon we were told to pack up. Immediateley we moved about 10 kilometers south to relieve another battalion. We made the usual night movement, struggling along, stumbling in the holes. Even maneuvers were better than this. We moved in quietly and releived the tired battalion. We held this static position for two days, building up for an attack that would carry us to the Roer River.
THAT BIG/LITTLE ROER.
That Roer River was a mighty important feature in the fighting, and I often thought to myself "Here's this river that's so almighty important and I've never even heard of it."
Our CP was in a small town, but it was the hottest town that we had ever been in. It was located about 2 1/2 miles from the Roer, and the Krauts had all their big artillery drawn up across the river, looking down our throats. They shelled us night and day with 155s and 220s and what a terrific shrill scream. We could hear them whistle in, scream, and whooooshsh by like a freight train gliding in to a stop. One afternoon as I was catnapping in the cellar, a big one roared in and hit the cellar wall. I was so dazed I thought it had turned the cellar around about 450. After the dust settled we went out to look at the damage. Luckily the shell was a partial dud. We found 3/4 of the round intact against the wall. I could hardly lift the remains. One GI packed it around for awhile as a souvenir, but soon gave it up, believe me!
It has not been revealed until now just how close the German army came to complete annihilation at the hands of two platoon cooks. A shell hit the wall of Alphie Langlois' kitchen for the first platoon, and Walter "Cue Ball" Miller of the 3rd platoon. It ruined the coffee and stew they were brewing up for the evening meal. The cooks grabbed their cleavers and headed for the Kraut lines to make mince meat.. About 20 GIs grabbed them, and they stormed back into their kitchens mumbling dire threats to any Krauts that might fall into their hands.
Every time we left the cellars here in Gereonsweiler we went at top speed - tip top speed. The Krauts, as a rule, shelled at very regular intervals. In most instances at chow time - around 7:45, 11:30, and 5:00 PM but in the "derf" we were shelled constantly.
The toughest job developed when we went to the latrine. In the middle the chore the whistling and screaming of a 220 on its way was not inducement for leisurely meditation.
Harry Aitken confiscated a piano accordian and began to teach himself, using the trial and error method. This procedure was called the "Aitken touch." After diligent practice daily for several weeks, to the horror and woe of the 3rd platoon GIs, he could bang out familiar tunes - if he told us the title before he played. All platoons hooked up their telephones so we could all hear, even though it did hurt our ears, but it was surprising what a little "music' could do for one s soul and it did soothe our nerves. Every day at 5:30 (when possible) "Harry's All Request Hour" went on the air.
We moved out into the field and began a slow, determined push toward the Roer River, meeting bitter resistance. But the humor was still there. One night while trying to rest in a pillbox during heavy artillery shelling, Lt. Bruce Reid leaned over to me and asked: "Swede, do you think this will ever replace night baseball?"
Capt. Mitchell [Richard F.] sent me down to reconnoiter an area for my guns, so Santilli, Glen Hanneman and I headed for the objective. We walked, walked, sauntered, walked, and seeing no GIs, I began to get a little worried. We reached a deserted farm house , fairly well riddled to be sure. The usual search - tossed several grenades down the cellar - and proceeded to enter. I tossed a couple of grenades cautiously and, leaving the two upstairs on guard, hurredly searched the grimy cellar.
Santilli and Hanneman spotted several Heinies emerging from a camoflaged green pillbox resembling a grass mound. I computed the coordinates from the man, and Hanneman left posthaste with the data and a note to Mitch stating that we had captured south Linnich - no casualties and no prisoners. I went back into the cellar to build a fire to warm our K rations for a warm meal. Suspiciously looking at the stove, I decided to build the fire on top of the stove and not worry about booby traps. As we were eating, the advance elements of the riflemen came trudging up and passed by. I informed the CO of the exact position of the pillbox, but by then the scouts were 150 yds. beyond and the pillbox opened fire. The riflemen hit the dirt; the command group retired to the cellar to radio battalion to hurry the artillery. One soldier, browsing around the cellar, gave a yell. We rushed down and here he was prodding a Kraut with his bayonet. The Heinie had a bayonet and a grenade and was hiding not five feet from where Santilli and I had leisurly eaten our side order of chopped pork and eggs.
We were relieved again, and this time we pulled back from the front lines for a rest. Whatta glorious feeling - a bath, the first in almost two months, movies, no incoming artillery. Back there in the rest area in Paleanberg we had one Kraut visitor who never failed. "Bed Check Charlie" was a German aviator who flew over every night in a reconnaisance plane just to - take photographs with his infa-red film. He usually hit our area every night about the same time so we could set our watches by it. One night he was five minutes late, and I know 36 GIs moved their watches back five minutes. He flew over in a plane that sounded like a two-cylinder outboard motor limping along on one cylinder - and that one pretty weak.
We just dropped our gear and everyone just slept and slept - and then ate and ate. After that we gathered around and talked and talked. Some of the guys we hadn't seen or talked to in some time. After cleaning up our gear and getting brand new outfits from head to foot, we set out for the recreational activities that were offered for our amusement movies, plays, shows, and a great variety of books and magazines. A certain percentage were given passes to Paris and to Heerlen, Holland and to Vaals, Holland - the division rest center.
----- Donald E. "Swede" Larson
(Editor's note: Attempts were made throughout the text of the following story to place full names to the men listed in the story. For the most part, this is an educated guess and some names may very well be mistaken in their identy. The names were all taken from the division history book: With The 102d Infantry Division Through Germany, edited by Major Allen H. Mick. Using the text as a guide, associations with specific units were the basis for the name identifications. We are not attempting in any to rewrite the story. Any corrections are gladly welcomed.)
Interested in some background
information?
Check out the related
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United States Army, 102nd Infantry Division
History of the 102nd Infantry Division
Attack on Linnich, Flossdorf, Rurdorf - 29 Nov -- 4 Dec 1944
The above story, "Down Memory Lane with Co. H., 405th Inf., Pt. 3", by Donald E. "Swede" Larson, 405th, H. Co., was originally published in the 102d Division "Ozark Notes", Vol. 42, No. 2, Winter 1990, pp. 8 - 12.
The story is re-printed here on World War II Stories -- In Their Own Words with the kind permission of the 102d Infantry Division Association, Ms. Hope Emerich, Historian. Our sincerest THANKS for the 102d Infantry Division Association allowing us to share some of their stories.
We would also like to extend our sincere THANKS to Mr. Edward L. Souder, former historian of Co. F., 405th Regiment. His collection of stories of the "Kitchen Histories Project" series entitled, Those Damn Doggies in F, were responsible for bringing the stories of the men of the 102nd Division to the forefront.
Original Story submitted on 28
October 2003.
Story added to website on
4 November 2003.
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