05 November 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

5 November, 1944       1100

My dearest darling Wilma –

I’ve just finished sick-call and I thought I’d get started on this before lunch. I’ve been kept busy the past 24 hours or so and there’s no telling when I’ll be interrupted. There was no mail yesterday for anyone. In the evening we were supposed to have a movie – something called “The Primitive Man”. We never did get to see it because something went wrong with our projector – so we ended up playing bridge again, drinking a bit of Rhine Wine – and spent a pleasant evening. I was disturbed by a couple of little things before finally getting to sleep. In the middle of the night, 0315 to be exact, I was awakened by a tapping on my window; I was sure it was parachutists – but dammit – I had left my pistol in the dispensary. Anyway I yelled out and heard a woman’s voice and the voice of one of our guards. There was a woman about to have a baby and they needed a doctor. I didn’t know the woman, but we’ve been in town long enough now so that everyone, I guess, knows where the ‘Herr Doktor’ lives. It’s been a long long time since I’ve been called on a civilian night case. I got up, went over to the Dispensary and managed to get together a kit. The delivery was easy and all went well. The mother had a nice little baby boy – about 7 lbs I should say – and she was happy because she had 3 girls. The father, incidentally, is dead – about 2 months ago, I believe. As I walked back to my room I couldn’t help but appreciate the paradox of our being here to kill Germans – and yet bringing new ones into the world who may be fighting in some other war. Oh well – he’ll be named Fritz – after his father – and he really is a cute baby.

In one of your letters of last month, dear, you mentioned you were surprised that I might be willing to leave the lucky 438th to join a hospital perhaps. I admit – that was a change in policy for me, but the longer we stay in a war area, sweetheart, the more aware you become that there just isn’t such a thing as a lucky outfit; everyone gets his share – from what I’ve been able to observe. That reminds me – you also mentioned that Les was now in France. Do you know his outfit – or address? See if you can get it for me, dear, – you never can tell, I may be able to look him up. And also by the way, dear, who told you I was near Aachen? Yes, it did keep us up, – and more than that.

You really gave me a comfortable insight into home life one day when you wrote about my coming home after a hard day’s work and relaxing, etc. One thing you must remember, though, and that is that a doctor doesn’t come home – very often his day is right at home – and even if his office is in another spot, he is still at home part of the day. In other words, darling, you’ll have to see me on and off during the day as well as at night. Will that be all right? But the picture of us – even in the mind – spending a quiet evening at home – sure is a pleasant vision and oh how often I think about it! And don’t you worry about my being lonesome these days; there’s nothing you can do more than you are, dear, and that is to continue to write me the sweet and thoughtful things you do. That’s all I want and need right now.

You mentioned your Birthday present and being excited about it. I hope you won’t be disappointed – but it was all that was available. Incidentally – I do hope it gets to you. There are now two parcels on the way – it’s over two weeks now, I guess. I haven’t had them returned and I just hope they get through. Oh yes – neither parcel is marked in such a way that you could tell which is your present – so you can consider either one as it; better still – if you get them – call them both your Birthday gift.

Well, darling, I was not interrupted, but now it is near time to eat and I’d better be off. So I’ll say so long once more – but only in writing – because actually, dear, I am with you every part of the day – in every sense of the word – except physical.

Regards and love to the folks – and

My sincerest love –

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Schmidt, Kommerscheidt and Vossenack
3-5 November 1944

CLICK ON MAPS TO ENLARGE

Perhaps the most comprehensive collection of materials concerning "The Battle of the Huertgen Forest" was found on the former "Scorpio's Website". Most of the following was extracted from various parts of that site.

Schmidt
While the successful capture of Vossenack on 3 November 1944 had earned praise from the 28th Division commander, Major General Cota, the failure of 1/112 (1st Battalion, 112th Infantry) to cross the Kall, or even advance much past Germeter, had been disappointing. The next day, 3/112 had been chosen to lead the next attempt. The new plan had called for a movement through Vossenack, bypassing the defended woods to cross the Kall at the Mestrenger Muhle (shown on the map above) and then move on Schmidt. 1/112, less B Company, would follow the 3rd Battalion, and Armored 707th Tank Battalion was to support the entire operation. This time, the attack had been startlingly successful, with the German defenders in Schmidt caught by surprise and driven out handily.

A state of euphoria had swept the division and corps headquarters. Unfortunately, the 3rd Battalion had been the only unit from the 112th that had reached Schmidt on 3 November. The battalion also had been without armor support. The only route into Schmidt open to the division had been the Kall Trail and this route had been proving to be nearly impassable for armor. The 3rd Battalion had been dangerously exposed and its only anti-tank weapons had been mines and bazookas. Its soldiers had become cold, wet, and exhausted. Leaders and soldiers alike had sought out warm buildings during the night and had prepared only the most rudimentary of defenses. The battalion had sent out no patrols during the night leaving the commander blind to what was around his bunk.

The 109th and the 110th had made no progress on 3 November. In the south, tough German defenses had continued to hold the 110th in check. Casualties for the regiment had mounted steadily. The infantry units, unsupported by tanks, had continued to force the assault despite the heavy casualties. By the end of the day, they still had had nothing to show for their sacrifices. In the north the initial success of the 109th also had ground to a halt. At dawn the 109th had fought off two counterattacks and subsequently had canceled plans for its own attack toward the town of Huertgen. Much like the forward elements of the 112th, the 109th had found itself surrounded on three sides by well dug-in defenders.

Then, in the early hours of 4 November, disaster had struck when a strong German counterattack, composed of armor from the 116th Panzer Division and infantry forces from the 89th Infantry Division, had attacked the 3rd Battalion in Schmidt just after dawn. German artillery had conducted a brief but fierce shelling of the town immediately prior to the German assault. The shelling had stunned the American infantry in their hastily prepared positions.

The German infantry had followed the shelling by attacking the town from almost every angle. German tanks, impervious to the bazooka fire of the American infantrymen, had followed close on the heels of the attacking infantry. Due to communications difficulties, American artillery had not begun to provide support until the German attack was over an hour old. Confusion within the 3/112th had grown rapidly and soon had turned into panic. Soldiers had begun to flee for the woods and leaders had lost all semblance of control. In little more than three hours of fighting the Germans had recaptured Schmidt and the 3/112th had ceased to exist as an effective combat force.

Kommerscheidt
The German counterattack next had struck the 1/112th, defending the village of Kommerscheidt. Here the American defenses had been better prepared and had had armor support in the form of three Sherman tanks. Leaders also had rounded up and put into the line approximately 200 of the panic-stricken soldiers from Schmidt. The defenders had beaten back the German attack, though not without substantial losses. Early the next morning, nine tank destroyers and six tanks had further reinforced the position at Kommerscheidt. This discouraged any immediate German efforts to launch another counterattack on Kommerscheidt.

Meanwhile, in the Kall gorge the Germans had gained the upper hand. They had infiltrated the main supply route and had mined the trail, leaving both the 3d Platoon, Company B, 20th Engineers, and two squads of the 3d Platoon, Company C, 20th Engineers, unaccounted for. Company A, 20th Engineers, was still virtually intact in a defensive bivouac near the entrance of the trail into the woods southeast of Vossenack. A four-man security guard was presumably still at the Kall bridge, but for all practical purposes the enemy controlled the vital river bridge. The 28th Division's G-2 Periodic Report for 5 November, in making estimates of enemy capabilities, had failed to mention the possibility of enemy action coming down either end of the undefended Kall gorge.

The Kall Trail, from Vossenack toward Kommerscheidt

Vossenack
At Vossenack the situation was perhaps worst of all, though its seriousness was perhaps not so readily apparent. Remnants of the 2d Battalion, 112th Infantry, still held the town, but they had been subjected to three days and four nights of murderous fire from German artillery, self-propelled guns, and mortars. The men had undergone about all they could stand.

Early in the morning the 2d Squad of the 1st Platoon, Company F, under Staff Sergeant Charles W. Cascarano, in position at the head of a shallow wooded draw leading into the positions on the east, saw about twenty Germans moving in a column of twos through the wooded draw toward its positions. The squad's automatic rifleman sprayed the Germans with fire, wounding nine, killing four, and putting the rest to flight. The wounded Germans lay where they had fallen for about: four or five hours, moaning and crying, before five German medics with a cart: picked them up.

The enemy shelled the open ridge with artillery from the direction of the Brandenberg-Bergstein ridge and with self-propelled guns and tanks, sometimes firing twenty or thirty rounds at one foxhole before shifting targets. The men noticed no lessening in the fire even when American planes were overhead. In the Company E area, four men who were using a barn for shelter were buried in an avalanche of baled hay when the upper part of the barn collapsed from a direct artillery hit. Frantic efforts by others of the company to dig out the men were unavailing, and the building burned.

Just before dark enemy shelling methodically wiped out six men in two-man foxholes of Company G along the trail that was an extension of the town's main street. When the men near by saw their companions blown to bits, some pulled back to the houses, leaving an undefended gap of more than a hundred yards in the center of the defense. Efforts by officers of both Company G and Company F to fill this gap went for nought. The troops ordered into the holes, utterly fatigued, their nerves shattered, many of them crying unashamedly, would return to the dubious protection of the houses.

The regular Company E commander, 1st Lt. Melvin R. Barrilleaux, who had returned the night before from a Paris leave, visited his platoons after dark. He found most of his men so affected by the shelling that he felt they all should be evacuated. Many were in such a shocked, dazed condition that the platoon leaders had to order them to eat, and one platoon leader was himself evacuated for combat exhaustion. Virtually the same situation existed in the other three companies.

The battalion commander, Lt. Col. Theodore S. Hatzfeld, had himself become a virtual combat exhaustion case. He insisted on remaining at his post, but Captain John D. Pruden, the battalion executive officer, conducted the major command functions. The company commanders reported the situation to battalion; battalion informed them it was being reported to regiment; and no relief came.

04 November 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

4 November, 1944       0930

My dearest darling –

There were very few letters in the mail yesterday – but I got three of them and all from you, dear, and the latest was written 20 October. That made the rest of the day a success, darling, because I love the content of your letters. The fact is that the way you express yourself, sweetheart, is very satisfying to one who has to be separated from the one he loves. You often write that you ‘feel’ something and can’t make it clear to me. Well you’re all wrong, darling, because I understand all that you say and I love the way you say it. Certainly love is a peculiar thing in the way it makes you feel inadequate. I often feel as if I were the luckiest fellow in the world and I want to tell you about it, yet when I write it and read what I’ve written, it seems to fall short. But over a period of time, dear, I think the message gets across – I believe so anyway.

I was especially interested in your letter of 17 October, dear. You had just been out for a walk by yourself and had done some good thinking. That’s the only time a person can really clear his mind, I think – when he’s alone – and in the open. Being outside makes a good deal of difference, too, because it seems as if your thoughts can really expand. I used to do that a great deal when I was in Salem and the war has allowed me ample opportunity to continue. Of course – I’m a rather introspective person, anyway, but practically so – I believe. I didn’t know you well enough, dear, before I left – to know whether you were introspective too. I’ve come to find out since – that you are – and I’m glad – because a person who can be introspective – can usually think things out.

Marriage is supposed to make two people intimate – but I’m afraid that more often than not that intimacy is sexual only – and if that’s all it gives – then you’re better off not married. The intimacy must involve an understanding of every like and dislike, of every thought – if possible – and certainly an understanding of every mood. No two people – except two mentally diseased perhaps – can live together, without some difference of opinion, some contralateral likes or dislikes; but if they can realize that fact, occasionally give ground, wait until a mood has passed – those two people can live happily. From what I can gather from your letters – I didn’t know you in the States long enough to find out – I know we’re going to be happy. Why did I want to become engaged to you then – you may wonder? The answer is that I saw it in you letters right from the start. I know so much more about you from our correspondence, darling, than I do from our being together – but we were together long enough to complete the picture. No – you are not too idealistic, dear; on the contrary – you are being very realistic in stating what you want. I’ll try not to disappoint you. I know we’ll belong to each other in every sense of the word.

The letter of the 17th also included your transcription of some cartoons, sweetheart, which I enjoyed. You’re really ambitious to take the trouble to do it, dear – and I appreciate it. And now I see some patients coming to visit me and I’ll have to stop now. Today it was I who rambled on – but from all of it – you must realize how much I love you and want you, darling – because I do – with all my heart. You shall see – So long for now, dear, love to the folks – and

My everlasting love

Greg.

* TIDBIT *

about Evacuation from the Line

Extracted from the U.S. Army Medical Department's Office of Medical History's web site's United States Army in World War II, The Technical Services, The Medical Department: Medical Service in the European Theater of Operations, by Graham A. Cosmas and Albert E. Cowdrey, U.S. Army Center of Military History, Washington, D.C., 1992 (Chapter XI).

From the place on the battlefield where the aidmen treated a casualty and marked his position, ETO divisional medical installations and hence the chain of evacuation stretched rearward over a considerable distance. By late 1944 battalion aid stations typically set up at least a mile behind the engaged infantry and armor elements, to reduce losses from artillery and mortar fire among essential, hard-to-replace doctors and technicians. Collecting stations usually took position about a mile back of the aid stations. Clearing stations remained 3 to as many as 15 miles behind the fighting line, to be free of the patient-disturbing noise and counterbattery fire danger or their own corps and division artillery.

Since the Battle of the Hedgerows they had used collecting company ambulances, supplemented by trucks for walking wounded, to evacuate their battalion aid stations. By late autumn they routinely extended motor transport forward of the aid stations as well, whenever possible right to the place where casualties lay on the battlefield. Medics now used jeeps, belonging to battalion aid stations and collecting companies, in preference to litterbearers, for moving wounded in the forward areas. Fitted with brackets for carrying litters, these small sturdy vehicles could go most places men on foot could; they could accommodate two or three litters each, and as many ambulatory patients as ingenious drivers could crowd on board. When their jeeps bogged down in mud and snow, medics often switched to the M-29 Weasel, a small tracked cargo vehicle that had about the same litter capacity as the jeep. Armored division surgeons used light tanks and tank retrievers to move their wounded over ground impassable to jeeps and regular ambulances.

Evacuation Jeep and Weasel fitted with litters

[CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE]

Infantry battalion and collecting company litterbearers (the latter all but supplanted by ambulances for work to the rear of the aid stations) customarily combined forces to remove wounded from the battlefield. They were far too few for the job during intense combat and when weather, terrain, or the tactical situation prevented vehicles from assisting them. The Huertgen fighting, in particular, absorbed bearers at an almost intolerable rate. The 1st Infantry Division, during its time in the forest, used 240 additional litterbearers; the 4th Division employed 140. The 68th Medical Group, for example, which supported the VII Corps, provided infantry divisions in the Huertgen Forest with over 450 reinforcement bearers, including the enlisted personnel of two entire collecting companies.

Litter bearers in the Huertgen Forest

In especially difficult tactical situations, infantry battalion and collecting company medics resorted to all manner of expedients to keep evacuation going. Such was the case during the disastrous attack of the 28th Infantry Division in the Huertgen Forest early in November. In this operation the 1st and 3d Battalions of the 112th Infantry seized a salient of key high ground around the villages of Schmidt and Kommerscheidt, deep in German-held territory, and then came under heavy infantry, tank, and artillery counterattack from three sides.

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE

Attack on Schmidt from three sides

The battalions' route of supply and evacuation consisted of a narrow trail, muddy from the incessant rain, which wound its way down into the gorge of the Kall River and then up another ridge to the American-held town of Vossenack, some 2 miles northwest of Kommerscheidt. Vossenack itself was under intense German infantry attack, as well as artillery bombardment from high ground to its northeast.

The battalion surgeons, Captains Paschal A. Linguiti, MC, of the 1st and Michael De Marco, MC, of the 3d, faced a difficult evacuation problem. Ambulances from their supporting collecting company could not negotiate the trail across the Kall.

Tank Destroyers on the muddy Kall Trail

Hence, the battalions had to send casualties back in jeeps and weasels to an ambulance loading point near the top of the ridge at Vossenack. Linguiti initially set up his 1st Battalion aid station in a basement in Kommerscheidt; De Marco, with his 3d Battalion station, took position about a mile farther to the rear, west of the Kall, sheltered in a cave-like 18-by-12-foot dugout built into the steep hillside that bordered the trail. The station in Kommerscheidt in effect functioned as an advance collecting point; it sent wounded in whatever vehicles were available to the 3d Battalion installation for relay on up the hill to the ambulance loading point.

Battalion Aid Station personnel readying
casualties for evacuation farther to the rear

As the American position at Schmidt and Kommerscheidt deteriorated, so did the evacuation situation. Linguiti and De Marco consolidated their two aid stations in the dugout. Litter patients, eventually about sixty-five of them, accumulated in and around the dugout. Linguiti and De Marco cared for them as best they could, helped by their MAC assistant surgeons, the battalion chaplains, a dwindling contingent of enlisted medics, and infantry stragglers whom the surgeons disarmed and pressed into service as attendants and litterbearers. The medics had adequate food for their patients and enough medical supplies for what little treatment they were attempting, but they were short of blankets and shelter. The dugout could accommodate only about twenty-five patients. The remainder, wrapped in what coverings were available, lay along the trail in the cold, rain, and snow, protected by soldiers holding Red Cross flags. This protection was needed because, during the final days of the battle, German troops infiltrating behind the 1st and 3d Battalions periodically visited the aid station. However, except for announcing that the medics were captured and making sure that no armed Americans were present, the Germans left the facility unmolested. They allowed American walking wounded to reach the station and at one point offered Linguiti and De Marco food and medicine, which the surgeons declined. Nevertheless, the Germans did confiscate the aid station's few vehicles.

After the survivors of the 1st and 3d Battalions withdrew from Kommerscheidt on the night of 8-9 November, in the process inundating the aid station with a final stream of walking and litter-borne casualties, Linguiti and De Marco and their staff and patients remained within German lines. The enemy evidently had neither the means nor the inclination to remove the American doctors and wounded. The local German commander agreed to a truce, proposed by the 112th Infantry's surgeon, Maj. Albert L. Berndt, MC, for removal of both sides' casualties from the Kall valley. Under this arrangement the battalion surgeons, after further adventures with a German unit not party to the truce, eventually managed to assemble a makeshift truck and weasel convoy to carry themselves, the other medical officers and men, the chaplains, and the severely wounded back to American lines. However, they had to surrender the lightly wounded and their non-medical personnel as prisoners of war.

03 November 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

3 November, 1944         1400

My dearest sweetheart –

What with missing one day and writing a short V-mail the next, I really feel as if I’ve been out of touch with you for some time, dear. I got back from my visit to B Battery about noon today and all in all I had a pretty good time. I’ve probably told you before that I like the officers in this battery better than in any other – and that’s why I enjoy visiting them for a few days. They had a pretty good set-up where they were, comfortable, warm and with good beds. We sat around in the evening, listened to the radio and played some cards.

I told you I got back to one of the Belgian cities. I was amazed at the amount of business being done and the variety of articles being sold. There were 2 department stores in town – and the way they fix their windows and display their goods – is really something to see. It just doesn’t seem possible that these people have been in a 5-years war. When you examine the material they are selling, however, you find that most of it is ersatz. Anyway, darling, we did manage to buy a dish of ice-cream and it wasn’t too bad – although it was a far cry from a banana split – for instance.

I returned here to find there had been no mail for anyone for the past 2 days – despite the fact that the Stars and Stripes mentioned the other day that thousands of sacks of mail were arriving in France daily; ours must be on the way. The days roll by and here it is the end of the week again; it doesn’t seem possible that with our being apart so long, sweetheart, that time can be flying by so rapidly. It’s almost a year now – and how I remember my sweating it out back there at Camp Edwards. I’m glad that that is all behind us – but a lot of nice things did happen to us in that time – so we can’t complain too much, dear.

I’ve often thought of that time when it almost seemed as if you’d get down to New York that week-end. Remember you knew someone who lived up on the Hudson near that camp? You guessed correctly – I was at that Camp. At that time I felt that after all – it was best you didn’t come down – but I’ve thought of it countless times since – and I’m sorry you didn’t, sweetheart. You can see now how much every hour – or every evening meant – and you can also see that it wouldn’t have made things any more difficult. The Lord knows, darling, I miss you no less because you stayed away. Oh well – we’ll have that week-end in New York some day and many more too.

The other day – and don’t laugh dear! – I got to thinking of where we might spend our honeymoon. Is that premature wishful thinking? Don’t answer! That’s the truth, though, and you must admit – it’s food for pleasant thought. Although I imagine it’s my duty to think of the place – I’ll tell you now dear – that I’m going to let you decide. I’ve done a lot of traveling in the past couple of years and you can pick the spot you want to go to. Anywhere within reason will be all right with me. As has been said before, it’s wonderful, anywhere.

Yes – I’ve got it all planned out, dear, the clothes I’ll have to buy as soon as I’m out of uniform, getting married, buying a car, furnishing an apartment. I’ve studied my checking account – and you know, sweetheart, – if they’d only end this war – I’m ready to start right now. Maybe I ought to write Gen. Ike. But as Shakespeare wrote – “ … fires burn and cauldrons bubble ” –; we’ll wait until the fire is burnt out and then we’ll have it as we like it.

I’ll close now, dear, and in an hour or so – maybe we’ll have some mail. Until tomorrow, darling, – my love to the folks and

All my everlasting love

Greg.

* TIDBIT *

about Back to the Huertgen Forest

CLICK ON MAP TO ENLARGE

In early September Eisenhower had directed his allied forces to continue attacking on a broad front. His intent was to breech the German frontier and strike deep into Germany. First Army, commanded by General Hodges, would conduct a head-on attack against the Siegfried Line, penetrate and then drive on to the Rhine. Hodges had three Corps within First Army totaling more than 256,000 men. Arrayed north to south on the German frontier (as shown in the above map) was XIX Corps under Major General Charles H. Corlett in the north, VII Corps under Major General J. Lawton Collins in the middle and V Corps under Major General Leonard Gerow to the south.

An article called "Battle of the Huertgen Forest," written by Ernie Herr found on the 5th Armored Division's web site stated this:

Those that fought the battle from the American side were mostly from the high school classes of 1942, 1943 and 1944. They were to pick up the battle and move on after the classes of 1940 and 1941 had driven this far to the German border but now were too few in numbers to press on. These mostly still teenagers included championship high school football teams, class presidents, those that had sung in the spring concerts, those that were in the class plays, the wizards of the chemistry classes, rich kids, bright kids. There were sergeants with college degrees along with privates from Yale and Harvard. America was throwing her finest young men at the Germans. These youths had come from all sections of the country and from every major ethnic group except the African-American and the Japanese-American.

The training these young men had gone through at State-side posts such as Fort Benning was rigorous physically but severely short on the tactical and leadership challenges that the junior officers would have to meet. British General Horrocks (one of the few generals, if not the only general to do so) made a surprise front line visit to the 84th division and described these young men as "an impressive product of American training methods which turned out division after division complete, fully equipped. The divisions were composed of splendid, very brave, tough young men." But he thought it was too much to ask of green divisions to penetrate strong defense lines, then stand up to counter attacks from first-class German divisions. And he was disturbed by the failure of American division and corps commanders and their staffs to ever visit the front lines. He was greatly concerned to find that the men were not even getting hot meals brought up from the rear, in contrast to the forward divisions in the British line. He reported that not even battalion commanders were going to the front. Senior officers and staff didn't know what they were ordering their rifle companies to do. They did their work from maps and over radios and telephones. And unlike the company and platoon leaders, who had to be replaced every few weeks at best, or every few days at worst, the staff officers took few casualties, so the same men stayed at the same job, doing it badly.

The battle had begun on 19 September 1944 when the 3rd Armored Division and the 9th Infantry Division moved into the forest. The lieutenants and captains had quickly learned that control of formations larger than platoons was nearly impossible. Troops more that a few feet apart couldn't see each other. There were no clearings, only narrow firebreaks and trails. Maps were almost useless. With air support and artillery also nearly useless, the GIs were committed to a fight of mud and mines, carried out by infantry skirmish lines plunging ever deeper into the forest, with machine guns and light mortars their only support. For the GIs, it was a calamity. In the September-October action, the 9th and 2nd Armored Divisions lost up to 80 percent of their front-line troops, and gained almost nothing.

On November 2, the 28th Infantry Division took up the fight. The 28th was the Pennsylvania National Guard and was called the "Keystone Division" referring to their red keystone shoulder patch. So many of the Pennsylvania National Guard were to fall here that the Germans referred to them as the "Bloody Bucket Division," since the keystone looked somewhat like a bucket.

"Keystone Division" Patch

When the 28th tried to move forward, it was like walking into hell. From their bunkers, the Germans sent forth a hail of machine-gun and rifle fire and mortars. The GIs were caught in thick minefields. Their attack stalled. For two weeks, the 28th kept attacking, as ordered.

On November 5, division sent down orders to move tanks down a road called the Kall Trail. But, as usual, no staff officer had gone forward to assess the situation in person, and in fact the "trail" was solid mud blocked by felled trees and disabled tanks. The attack led only to more heavy loss of life. The 28th's lieutenants kept leading. By November 13, all the officers in the rifle companies had been killed or wounded. Most of them were within a year of their twentieth birthday. Overall in the Huertgen, the 28th suffered 6,184 combat casualties, plus 738 cases of trench foot and 620 battle fatigue cases. Those figures meant that virtually every front-line soldier was a casualty. The 28th Division had essentially been wiped out.

02 November 1944

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

2 November, 1944        1530

Dearest sweetheart –

First let me apologize for not writing you yesterday; it was the first day I missed in a long long time – but I just couldn’t get to it. As you know – if you’ve received my letter of 31 October, dear, I’m with one of the batteries and I was busy all day. Part of the day consisted in my going back to Verviers, Belgium – but I couldn’t get into any of the stores to look around because it was All Saint’s Day or some such thing – and everything was closed.

I’ve been inspecting all a.m. and have more to do. I’m supposed to go back to battalion tonight but I think I’ll sleep over here because I won’t get through before dark – and we just don’t like traveling in the dark – around here. If I’m free tonite – I’ll try to write you, darling – otherwise I’ll write you more tomorrow. I’m closing now because the battery mail clerk is here and will take this back to battalion for mailing; Otherwise I’ll lose a day. So – so long for now, sweetheart, love to the folks – and

All my sincerest love

Greg.

* TIDBIT *

about Medics on the Line

Extracted from the U.S. Army's AMEDD Center of History and Heritage (ACHH) web site comes "The Fight for the Huertgen Forest: Hard Fighting at the West Wall" as extracted from United States Army in World War II, The Technical Services, The Medical Department: Medical Service in the European Theater of Operations, by Graham A. Cosmas and Albert E. Cowdrey, U.S. Army Center of Military History, Washington, D.C., 1992.

Divisional unit detachments (such as Greg's) and medical battalions at the forward end of the evacuation chain collected casualties under fire, stabilized their condition, and started them toward safety and healing in the rear. Increasingly, by late 1944, the latter function - evacuation - was becoming the primary one for all medical personnel forward of the clearing stations. By army policy, medics confined treatment to the bare minimum needed to fit casualties for immediate further transportation: controlling bleeding, pain, and infection; immobilizing broken limbs; and administering plasma.

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE

Medical treatment of wounded soldiers began even before they reached their battalion aid stations. Casualties received first aid at or near the spot on the battlefield where they were injured, administered either by themselves and their buddies or, much more often, by their company aidmen. Each soldier carried an individual first aid packet, containing field dressings and sulfa powder and tablets, and was supposed to know how to improvise and apply splints and tourniquets. First aid procedures called for a wounded man, if able, to seek protection from fire, examine his injury and assess its severity, sprinkle it with sulfa powder, apply a dressing, and swallow his sulfa tablets. Then he was to get back to the aid station on his own or call for the aidman.

In practice, a large proportion of the wounded forgot to do, or not do, any number of these things. Of casualties polled in COMZ (Communications Zone) general hospitals, for example, about one-third did not take their sulfa pills before they reached the aid station, claiming that they lacked water to wash them down; doubted the tablets' usefulness; or were incapacitated by their injuries. Soldiers often did not have their belt first aid packets on their persons when hit. "They'd take them off," an aidman reported, "for example to be more comfortable in a fox hole, and we'll usually find the belts [and packets] lying close by." Hurt, frightened soldiers yelled frantically for the aidman even when only slightly wounded and capable of leaving the field under their own power. Many, in panic, further injured themselves, at times fatally. A company aidman recalled the actions of a lieutenant.

He got hit and just had a little bit of gut hanging out and he sits up and lies down and hollers and thinks he is going to die and we fix him up but he's still excited and pretty soon air gets in and he dies. That same day there's a Jerry with all his guts hanging out. He puts his hand down there and holds it in. We get him to the aid station and we hear later that the son-of-a-bitch still lives. He just held it there and didn't get excited.

Fortunately, comparatively few wounded men - only one in five, according to one hospital survey - had to give themselves first aid. Most found a company aidman at their sides within less than half an hour of being hit. Besides bandaging, splinting, applying tourniquets, administering sulfa powder and tablets, and injecting morphine, aidmen were supposed to fill out an emergency medical tag (EMT) for each casualty, providing the basic record of his identity and initial treatment. Many divisions in practice transferred this chore to the battalion aid stations, for the company medics, amid the urgency and danger of combat, were hardly in an ideal position to do paper work. Company aidmen had a deserved reputation for bravery but they complained that some of their heroics were unnecessary, the result of panic calls for help by the slightly injured or of poor judgment by line officers in sending out their medics under fire. One medic commented: "If a man is hit, he's hit, and it may be better to leave him there for a while than to send the aid man to him on a suicide job for example, I've seen it done when mortars were pounding the area and every foot was covered with [machine-gun] fire."

Most demands for courage on the part of aidmen, however, were legitimate and essential to their mission, and the medics responded with dedication and self-sacrifice. During the Third Army fighting along the Moselle, for example, Technician 5th Class Alfred L. Wilson, a company aidman in the 328th Infantry, moved about under heavy shelling treating his unit's many wounded until badly hurt himself. He refused evacuation and, in great pain and slowly bleeding to death, continued dragging himself from one casualty to the next. Finally too weak to move, he instructed other soldiers in giving first aid until unconsciousness overcame him. His unit credited Wilson, who received a posthumous Medal of Honor, with helping to save the lives of at least ten men. A 4th Division captain reported of another aidman in the Huertgen Forest who similarly stayed on duty after being injured: "This man was perhaps an even greater morale aid than a physical aid" to the hard-pressed riflemen around him.

Not surprisingly, in the light of such performance, aidmen were among the most popular and respected soldiers in their companies. Aidmen and infantry troops alike bitterly resented the War Department refusal-based on the need to maintain the medics' Geneva Convention noncombatant status-to grant eligible enlisted medics the Combat Infantryman Badge and the ten dollars a month extra pay that went with it. In some ETO divisions riflemen collected money from their own wages to give their aidmen the combat bonus. The War Department, however, did not remedy this inequity until barely two months before V-E Day. Medical Department soldiers - mostly aidmen and litter bearers - did collect their share of decorations for valor. Four ETO enlisted medics besides Wilson received Medals of Honor; hundreds of others won Silver or Bronze Stars.

In the judgment of doctors farther to the rear, aidmen and front-line troops gave generally competent first aid, although they made a few persistent errors. Soldiers-whether medical or nonmedical-regularly misused tourniquets. They applied them unnecessarily; left them unloosened for too long; and occasionally evacuated patients with tourniquets concealed by blankets or clothing, and hence not discovered until the limb was doomed. Trying to prevent such abuses, the Seventh Army surgeon directed that the "sole indication" for applying a tourniquet should be "active spurting hemorrhage from a major artery" and that medics in the field or at battalion aid stations should note the presence of a tourniquet on a patient's EMT in capital letters.

With the morphine Syrette then in use, aidmen easily could overdose casualties, especially in cold weather when slow blood circulation delayed absorption of the initial shot and the patient received more at an aid or collecting station. To guard against such mistakes, front-line medics who did not fill out EMTs often attached their used morphine Syrettes to soldiers' clothing before evacuating them. In the First Army the surgeon, Colonel Rogers, recommended abandonment of the practice of sprinkling sulfa powder on open fresh wounds as an anti-infection precaution. Combined with the taking of sulfa pills, this treatment resulted in excessive doses, and it also made wounds generally dirtier without reaching the deepest portions most in need of prophylaxis.

01 November 1944

No letter today. Just this:

* TIDBIT *

about "Objective: Schmidt"

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The Aachen Front
1 November 1944

This has been excerpted from the U.S. Army in World War II: Special Studies chapter including the battle for Schmidt by Charles B. MacDonald.

By October 1944, the First United States Army in Western Europe had ripped two big holes in the Siegfried Line, at Aachen and east of Roetgen. Having captured Aachen, the army was next scheduled to cross the Roer River and reach the Rhine. It planned to make its main effort toward Duren in the zone of VII Corps south and east of Aachen and thence toward Bonn on the Rhine. But east of Roetgen, where the 9th Infantry Division had breached the Siegfried Line and parts of the Huertgen Forest, V Corps was first to launch a limited flank operation. The 28th Infantry Division, under the command of Major General Norman D. Cota, was ordered to make the V Corps attack; its initial objective was to be the crossroads town of Schmidt, close to the center of the above map.

Schmidt was an important objective. Lying on a ridge overlooking the upper Roer River, it also afforded a view of the Schwammenauel Dam, an important link in a series of Roer dams which the Germans might blow at any time. The rush of flood waters thus unleashed would isolate any attack which had crossed the Roer in the Aachen vicinity. Located in the rear of the main Siegfried Line defenses in the area, Schmidt was an important road center for supply of enemy forces. The capture of Schmidt would enable the 28th Division to advance to the southwest and attack the enemy's fortified line facing Monschau from the rear, while a combat command of the 5th Armored Division hit the line frontally. Thus V Corps could complete the mission assigned by First Army - clearing the enemy from its area south to the Roer River on a line with the Monschau-Roer River dams. In enemy hands the Roer dams remained a constant threat to any major drive across the Roer downstream to the north.

The Schmidt operation was expected to accomplish four things: gain maneuver space and additional supply routes for the VII Corps attack to the north; protect VII Corps' right flank from counter-attack; prepare the ground for a later attack to seize the Roer River dams; and attract reserves from Germany's VII Corps, thus preventing their employment against First Army's main effort.

28th Division Objectives
2 November 1944
[Note: Hahn, where Greg's HQ was located,
is in the upper left corner]

Two important considerations influenced the planners of the Schmidt operation. First, air support could isolate the battlefield from large-scale intervention of enemy reserves, especially armored reserves. Thus the Schmidt action would remain an infantry action since crossing tanks over the Kall River was a doubtful possibility. The air task, extremely formidable because it involved neutralization of a number of Roer River bridges - and bridges are a difficult target for air - was assigned to the IX Tactical Air Command of the Ninth Air Force. Second, artillery support could deny the enemy the advantages of the dominating Brandenberg-Bergstein ridge. While the planners displayed great concern about enemy observation from this ridge, V Corps had too few troops to assign the ridge as a ground objective. Neutralization of the ridge by artillery would require almost constant smoking of approximately five miles and still could not be expected to eliminate the most forward enemy observation. But neutralization by artillery was apparently the only available solution.

The artillery plan called for conventional fires on known and suspected enemy locations, installations, and sensitive points, the bulk of them in the Huertgen area to the north. The preparation was to begin at H minus 60 minutes all along the V Corps front and the southern portion of the VII Corps front to conceal as long as possible the specific location of the attack. At H minus 15 minutes, fires were to shift to local preparation, and after H Hour fires were to be supporting, chiefly prepared fires on call from the infantry. Since weather limited air observation before the attack, counter-battery fires were based primarily on sound and flash recordings, which could not be considered accurate because of unfavorable weather and wooded, compartmented terrain. Ammunition was limited but considered adequate, and antitank defense was also included in the artillery plan. Artillery units were located in the general area of Zweifall-Roett-Roetgen, from which all expected targets would be within effective range.

When the 28th Division moved into the area on 26 October, the men found themselves in a dank, dense forest of the type immortalized in old German folk tales. All about them they saw emergency rations containers, artillery-destroyed trees, loose mines along poor, muddy roads and trails, and shell and mine craters by the hundreds, from the first attempt at Schmidt. The troops relieved by the 28th Division were tired, unshaven, dirty, and nervous. They bore the telltale signs of a tough fight--signs that made a strong impression on the incoming soldiers and their commanders. After the operation, the 28th Division commander himself, General Cota, recalled that at the time he felt that the 28th's attack had only "a gambler's chance" of succeeding.

The 28th Division G-2 estimated that to the immediate front the enemy had approximately 3,350 men, to the north 1,940, and to the south 1,850, all of whom were fighting as infantry. Enemy reserves capable of rapid intervention were estimated at 2,000 not yet committed and 3,000 capable of moving quickly from less active fronts. The G-2 estimate did not mention that holding Schmidt and the Roer River dams was an important fundamental in the German scheme for preventing an Allied break-through to the Rhine.

Although the 28th's attack was originally scheduled to be launched on 31 October, rain, fog, and poor visibility necessitated postponement. Despite continued bad weather, the attack was ordered for 2 November to avoid the possibility of delaying the subsequent VII Corps attack. The 109th Infantry was to initiate the action by launching its northerly thrust at 0900. While the 110th Infantry and two battalions of the 112th were not to attack until H plus 3 hours (1200), the 2d Battalion, 112th, was to join the 109th in the H Hour jump-off--0900, 2 November.

Facing the planned American attack was an enemy determined to hold the Huertgen-Vossenack area for several reasons now apparent: the threat to the Roer dams; the dominating terrain of the ridges in the area; the importance of Duren as a road and communications center; the threat to plans already made for an Ardennes counter-offensive; and the neutralizing effect of the Huertgen Forest against American superiority in air, tanks, and artillery. The German unit charged with the defense was the 275th Infantry Division of the LXXIV Corps of the Seventh Army of Army Group B.

31 October 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

31 October, 1944       1530

My dearest darling Wilma –

I don’t recall ever having used the expression before, but anyway – Happy Halloween, dear. I didn’t know whether I’d get a chance to write you or not today, but here I am at B battery, having arrived here about half an hour ago. All is quiet at the moment, and I found myself alone and with the opportunity to write. I had waited around all morning for the money to come in so that I could pay off the men, but I got tired of waiting and took off.

Yesterday was a banner day, sweetheart, with 2 letters from you, one from my Father, one form Nin Feldman, one from my nephew Steve and one from Stan Levine. The latter told me of his marriage – but in no detail except to say they spent a week at Atlantic City and were now back in Washington; Steve wrote a nice letter thanking me for a German helmet I had sent him and telling me about Latin School. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out who Mrs. Irv Feldman was – but it was once I began to read the letter. It was sweet of her to write and I enjoyed very much hearing from her. I’ll answer her letter soon.

Your letter of 16 October interested me a great deal, darling. Despite the fact that it happens over and over again – I am nevertheless amazed at the coincidences of our discussing the same subject at about the same time. I don’t remember the exact date that I wrote you, but I’ll bet it wasn’t far off from the 16th when I told you how I felt about your going out, hanging around etc. At about the same time – you must have been reading my mind, dear, because you tell me in no uncertain terms – almost as if you were refuting what I had written – how you feel about such things – and you couldn’t possibly have received my letter at that time. Concerning that letter, by the way, darling, I’m sorry I wrote it, but I had received a whole string of ‘blue’ letters from you and was feeling kind of low myself, I guess. I loved to read what you had to say about dating, going out etc., – and I believe you, dear. You must excuse what I wrote – but much as I’d hate it – I’d rather have you go out – than to feel you were becoming stale or stagnant. You have never implied that, dear, but I would rather anticipate such a condition than to let it occur actually.

You are correct in you observations about my folks, sweetheart; whatever their faults are – one of them will not be interference in our lives. If we ever want advice – I think we’ll have to ask for it. If anything – my mother – in particular – leans over backwards in that respect and I think that is unusual for a man’s mother. Anyway – as I’ve said before, darling, being in Salem will really keep us by ourselves a good part of the time and I think that’s the best way for a newly married couple because if they do have differences of one sort or another – they can usually straighten them out themselves – if they are left alone.

Darling – one of the officers from the Battery just came in and he’s going to show me around the battery. After all – I am here on an inspection trip. So I’ll stop now, dear; remember that I love you sincerely, sweetheart – and I love to hear you tell me the same. Love to the folks – and for now and always

My deepest love

Greg.

* TIDBIT *

about the Low-Level Attack on Aarhus

This information was extracted from an article titled "Mosquito Terror" that appeared in Britain At War Magazine, published by Green Arbor Publishing in London, Issue 40, August 2010.

Aarhus, a coastal town on the eastern side of Denmark's Jutland Peninsula, was the country's largest city. It was at the university there that the Gestapo had established its area headquarters. The site had become the location of many thousands of documents and dossiers on Danish patriots and resisters – information that was invaluable to the Gestapo's work. Not only did the buildings house the Gestapo, but they were also used as a short-term prison holding a large number of resistance . Of the 4-5 university buildings immediately adjacent to an autobahn, the Gestapo chiefly occupied College No. 4.

On 31 October 1944 a total of 26 de Havilland Mosquitoes from 3 squadrons, led by Wing Commander Reg Reynolds and his navigator, Squadron Leader Ted Sismore, took off from Swanton Morley just after 0900 hours the 1,000 mile flight, 700 of which were over the North Sea.

Each Mosquito carried two long range drop tanks full of fuel and 500 lb bombs fitted with eleven-second fuses. The bomb load of the last wave of attacking aircraft included incendiaries so that once the target had been destroyed the incendiaries would help burn any surviving Gestapo records. The fusing was arranged so that each of the 4 groups of 6 aircraft could drop their load without the risk of being blown up by bombs of their own section, leaving as little time as possible between group attacks.

En route, one of the aircraft hit a bird and had to return to base. The remaining 25 continued on and were joined by another from the RAF's Film Production Unit. They all were escorted by 8 North American P-51 Mustangs from a Polish squadron. The weather that day was ideal for a low attack. The group flew the entire way at about 50 feet, as was usual for this type of mission. They approached the target so low that they were well below the level of the roof and had to pull up to clear it as they released their bombs. They then continued flying as low as possible and at a high cruising speed until well out to sea on the way home.

One airplane actually touched the roof of the university, knocked off half its elevator and tail wheel, and ripped a gash in the bottom of the fuselage, lodging a lump of masonry within. The pilot had spotted a German shooting at them and, trying to silence him with return fire, had misjudged his height.

One of the Mosquito pilots recalled that during his approach he "could see lots of people giving the 'V' sign and waving." He added that "one man, plowing in a field on the way to the target, came to attention and saluted as we passed. Some of the Mosquitoes were less than ten feet above the buildings and I saw a man duck as the bombs from the Mosquitoes ahead of me passed over his head on their way into the building.”

Two bombs from the lead aircraft were seen to go in through the front door, with two further bombs through the two adjacent windows.One 500 pound bomb was dropped by one aircraft and the pilot in the following aircraft saw it strike the side of the building, turn upward as it entered, emerge through the roof and pass over his plane before it came down again.

The attack was estimated to have taken just nine minutes to complete. Squadron Leader Sismore later commented, “The raid was easy to plan and the target was easy to identify. When we left, fire was raging in the shell of the buildings and the result was what the Danes wanted. Altogether, we dropped 24,000 pounds of bombs.” Unfortunately, ten Danish civilians outside of the university were killed. Early estimates of enemy casualties were placed between 150-165 German and 30 Danes killed, most of whom were considered to be informers. Miraculously, most of the prisoners being held in the buildings survived.

Reports from the Danish Resistance on the success of the mission were already waiting when the Mosquito pilots landed back at their base by 1400 hours, just 5 hours after they had left. It was not known at the time but it was later learned that the Gestapo chief for Jutland had called a conference of his subordinates from all over the province and that they numbered 250. With the destruction of their records and the deaths of so many valuable informers and experience staff, the Gestapo in the Jutland Peninsula were practically neutralize for the remainder of the war.

The Film Production Unit was able to make three passes over the target, filming without interruption. Here are two of the photos which resulted:

CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE

Mustang pulling up after dropping bomb


Results of bomb drop

30 October 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

30 October, 1944       1030

Good morning, darling!

It’s cloudy again but I feel pretty chipper today – for no apparent reason. I had a pretty good night’s rest except for a variety of short dream interludes which ranged all the way from a scene in which I was home and we were all together and I offered to supply the wine for the celebration because I still had some left from Germany – to a little episode which found me awakening and discovering my watch crystal, radio dial and the windows of the room I was sleeping in – all shattered because of some heavy shelling. When I actually awoke – I was disappointed sweetheart, for I would gladly have undergone the latter experience for a chance to spend a couple of hours with you. We don’t have the chance to call our shots, though do we?

Yesterday, dear, the day was broken up a bit by the showing of another Class B picture in the p.m. – “The Crime Doctor’s Strangest Case”. It certainly was a strange case! Anyway – it helped kill a couple of hours. We had a steak supper for a change – the result of some shrapnel killing a well-fed cow. The cow was butchered and trimmed within 2 hours after its untimely death and the meat was passed as good – by me, incidentally. That’s another one of a battalion surgeon’s duties, by the way. In the evening we listened to the radio and I read a couple of case histories in the “New England Medical Journal”. I was in bed at 2115 – pretty early for a Sunday evening. This morning I have a little work to do – which I probably won’t get around to doing until the p.m. Tomorrow I visit B – or Baker battery for 3 days.

There was no mail yesterday, but I was able to re-read your letter of 11 October and laugh again at your “drawings” of pumpkins, weeping willows – and what not! You do have artistic inclinations – don’t you, dear? Your “Autumn Leaves” was really something to see – and had you not labeled it – I know I would have recognized it nevertheless! Keep up the good work – but every now and then, darling, interject a little drawing – without a title, just to see if I can figure it out. O.K.?

And Halloween is tomorrow night and no celebration here that I know of – except for the booming of guns and the noise of Ack-Ack. It’s a long time since I went to a Halloween party – anyway; – probably the last one I attended in recent years – was when I was Resident at the Salem Hospital. I guess that was the last year I was really happy – until I met you, sweetheart, because the next year I was out in practice – and fundamentally, I was always lonesome. And when I finally did meet someone whom I wanted to marry – I had to go overseas – dammit. Oh well – we won’t go into that now. Anyway – we’ll probably open a bottle or two, play some cards – and call it a party.

I was really glad to read that you had finally received 51 pictures. I believe that was all I had. In an earlier letter you had mentioned that one letter containing some photos – had been opened and some removed. I’m glad you were wrong, darling. As for taking close-up pictures – well – I don’t like to pose – and a good many of the pictures I sent you were taken on the spur of the moment and without a chance to project myself into them. If the sun ever gets out and stays out long enough, dear, I’ll take a few – but the chances of having them developed seem pretty slim at this point. By the way did you get one Post-card size picture of my driver and me that was taken by a Belgian civilian? I’m glad you got the “Wilma” snaps – and incidentally – the “Wilma” is now off the jeep – but not for long. An Army Order just out insists that all names on jeeps – be of standard block letters; ours were old English and many others were of all sorts and sizes. As soon as it dries out – we’ll have your name re-painted, dear, in block letters – 3 inches high – and then I’ll have to take another picture, of course. The German Volkswagen has been turned into a trailer and we drag it with the jeep. The motor gave out and anyway it wasn’t too safe in this territory.

Well – here I go again closing up for the morning sweetheart – and reminding you once again that I love you more and more strongly – if that’s possible – darling. Someday I’ll be able to show you how much instead of just writing it – and only then will you really know how much. So – so long for now, dear, love to the folks –

All my everlasting love –

Greg.

* TIDBIT *

about "The Crime Doctor's Strangest Case"

What follows was copied directly from Internet Movie Database Site's review of "The Crime Doctor's Strangest Case" (1943), written by Dorian Tenore-Bartilucci and posted 24 March 2007. Maybe seeing this movie brought on Greg's "short dream interludes".

Dapper yet avuncular Warner Baxter, one of cinema's earliest Oscar winners, is put through his paces in this second entry in Columbia Pictures' "Crime Doctor" series, based on the hit radio series.

Warner Baxter in the Crime Doctor series

Baxter plays the title character, a.k.a. Dr. Ordway, an amnesiac who learned (in the first "Crime Doctor" movie) he used to be a gang leader. Since then, Dr. Ordway's been using his knowledge of the criminal mind to become an in-demand psychiatrist. Baxter's testimony had helped acquit Jimmy Trotter (a young Lloyd Bridges), who'd been accused of poisoning his previous employer.

Lloyd Bridges, 1943

Jimmy finds that even when you're proved innocent, it's tough to find a job when you've got "Accused Poisoner" on your resume. But does Jimmy follow Dr. Ordway's advice and get a fresh start with his new wife in a new town? No-o-o-o! Jimmy grabs the first job he can get, as assistant to a Realtor, only to find himself jobless and the prime suspect when the Realtor dies of poisoning. Dr. Ordway gets involved, and before you can say "It's old Mr. Withers! He wanted to get the land cheap!", he's up to his fedora in wily blondes disguised as brunette cooks, family skullduggery, a would-be George Gershwin who's careless with matches (played for comic relief by Jerome Cowan), and an anxious middle-aged lady (Virginia Brissac) whose freaky dreams may be the key to the mystery.

Jerome Cowan, 1943

Virginia Brissac, 1942

That dream sequence is surprisingly intense, with imagery of silhouetted girls plummeting off cliffs and hanging from nooses; it's almost like a welcome bit of comic relief when a sinister male silhouette holding a suitcase labeled "POISON" shows up! "The Crime Doctor's Strangest Case" may not be "The Maltese Falcon," but Baxter is an ingratiating lead and the flick is an entertaining way to spend 68 minutes.

After multiple twists and turns and surprise connections among the players, Dr. Ordway solved the crime.

This note of trivia was presented on the IMDB site noted above, same page:

In this movie, Gloria Dickson was married to the man (played by Jerome Cowan) who was habitually starting fires with carelessly discarded smoking materials.

Gloria Dickson, 1943

There are two scenes in the movie, including the final scene, in which he started such fires. When describing living with him, her character commented, "I'm practically cremated." Ironically, just two short years after this movie was released, Gloria was killed at the age of 28 in a house fire suspected to have been caused by a carelessly discarded cigarette.