17 January 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

17 January, 1945       1000

Dearest sweetheart –

I should be starting a V-mail because I could probably finish it – but I’ll give this a try, anyway, dear. Believe me when I say that conditions at the present just aren’t very conducive to writing – and when you wonder how my letters managed to stay relatively clean and unsmooched, well – darling – I wonder too. Usually I use another sheet of paper to lean on. The real trouble now, though, is the cold. Some days it’s kind of hard to thaw out.

But I’d say the present military situation looks pretty good and that sweetheart is the most important thing of all.

As I wrote you in a V-mail yesterday, dear, my last 2 letters were from Verna and Lawrence – both dated 1 January. I enjoyed Verna’s letter very much. It was – as usual – a 3-page V-mail and very newsy. She told me about the early part of New Year’s Eve – at your house, and of having a few drinks and of listening to the clock. It all made me damned homesick – but in a pleasant sort of way, if you know what I mean. I could just picture myself being there too and having some fun like we did such a long time ago. Unfortunately the illusion didn’t last long enough, darling, and I ended up feeling kind of blue. I was reading Time Magazine the other day and it said the Nation was knocked for a loop by news of the “breakthrough”. Everyone here has been getting letters from home of various types of celebrations around the New Year – and most of them just wonder. I think, personally, it’s a damned good thing the people at home can’t accurately visualize what goes on; they’ve got enough to worry about now; but my interpretation of what a lot of soldiers feel – is that they’re still in a fog in the States. It’s Europe that’s fighting this war, with England included, of course. We’ve seen the civilian population and we know. They are living this thing out and in stark reality.

Well, I didn’t mean to preach a sermon, dear; excuse it. I have a V-mail and an air mail letter from you of the 21st of December and I know how you reacted to all this. And the fact that you hadn’t got any mail for several days before didn’t help matters, I know. Your knowledge and daily experience with government telegrams – were no help – but darling, you must stop thinking in those terms. Things were confused in those days and you shouldn’t feel cheated about getting 2 day old news at that time. We were in it, sweetheart. I can tell you now and we too – got old news. We knew only what was going on immediately around us and the news wasn’t good for days in a row. Anyway – we’ll probably get another Bronze Star for another Campaign – and I ought to come back with my share of them.

I don’t know how I got this far with this letter, darling, but I’ll have to stop now. Whatever you hear or read, keep a stiff upper lip and remember that wherever I am – I love you more than ever and as constantly and that I think only of you every moment I’m allowed to think. My love to the folks and so long for awhile.

All my everlasting love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Raoul Wallenberg

Raoul Wallenberg was born in 1912 near Stockholm, where his maternal grandparents had built a summer house in 1882. His paternal grandfather was a diplomat and envoy to Tokyo, Constantinople and Sofia. His parents, who married in 1911, were Raoul Oscar Wallenberg (1888–1912), a Swedish naval officer who died of cancer three months before his son was born, and Maria "Maj" Sofia Wising (1891–1979). In 1918, his mother remarried.

In 1931, Wallenberg went to study architecture at the University of Michigan in the United States. In college, he learned to speak English, German and French. He used his vacations to explore the United States. Although the Wallenberg family was wealthy, he worked at odd jobs in his free time.

On his return to Sweden, he found his American degree did not qualify him to practice as an architect. Eventually, his grandfather arranged a job for him in Cape Town, South Africa, in the office of a Swedish company that sold construction material. Between 1935 and 1936, Wallenberg was employed in a minor position at a branch office of the Holland Bank in Haifa, Israel. He returned to Sweden in 1936 and obtained a job in Stockholm at an export-import company trading between Stockholm and central Europe, owned by Kálmán Lauer, a Hungarian Jew.

Beginning in 1938, the Kingdom of Hungary, under the regency of Miklós Horthy, passed a series of anti-Jewish measures modeled on the so-called Nuremberg Race Laws enacted in Germany by the Nazis in 1935. Like their German counterparts the Hungarian laws focused heavily on restricting Jews from certain professions, reducing the number of Jews in government and public service jobs, and prohibiting intermarriage. Because of this, Wallenberg's business associate, Kálmán Lauer, found it increasingly difficult to travel to his native Hungary, which became a member of the Axis Powers in 1940 and joined the German-led invasion of the Soviet Union in June 1941. Wallenberg became Lauer's personal representative, traveling to Hungary to conduct business on Lauer's behalf and to look in on members of Lauer's extended family who remained in Budapest. He soon learned to speak Hungarian, and from 1941 made increasingly frequent trips to Budapest. Within a year, Wallenberg was a joint owner and the International Director of the company. In this capacity Wallenberg also made several business trips to Germany and Occupied-France during the early years of World War II. It was during these trips that Wallenberg was able to closely observe the Nazi's bureaucratic and administrative methods, gaining knowledge which would prove quite valuable to him later.

Hitler ordered the occupation of Hungary by German troops in March 1944. Once the Nazis were in control, the relative security from the Holocaust enjoyed by the Jews of Hungary came to an end. In the spring of 1944, Adolf Eichmann arrived in Hungary with orders to dispose of the country’s Jews. In April and May 1944 the Germans and their accomplices began the mass removal of Hungary's Jews to concentration camps in occupied-Poland, with deportations at a rate of 12,000 individuals per day.

In a bid to mount a secret rescue effort, the USA’s newly formed War Refugee Board (WRB) approached neutral Sweden with a plan to send an agent to Budapest to work under diplomatic cover in the Swedish embassy. Intelligent, determined and – as a member of one of Sweden’s wealthiest families, sure to impress the Nazis – Raoul Wallenberg emerged as the ideal candidate. By the time he reached Budapest in July, some 400,000 Hungarian Jews had already been sent to Auschwitz for extermination. Approximately 200,000 Jews remained, and Wallenberg determined to save them all.

Together with fellow Swedish diplomat Per Anger, he issued "protective passports", which identified the bearers as Swedish subjects awaiting repatriation and thus prevented their deportation. Although not legal, these documents looked official and were generally accepted by German and Hungarian authorities, who sometimes were also bribed. The Swedish legation in Budapest also succeeded in negotiating with the Germans so that the bearers of the protective passes would be treated as Swedish citizens and be exempt from having to wear the yellow badge required for Jews.

He cajoled, intimidated and bribed Axis officials. He established an elaborate network of spies within the Hungarian fascist party and the Budapest police. When Jews had no authentic identification papers, Wallenberg forged documents and flourished them authoritatively – even placing himself between Nazi officials and Jews. Upon receiving a threatening message from Eichmann – “Accidents do happen, even to a neutral diplomat” – Wallenberg ignored it. “When there is suffering without limits,” he countered, “there can be no limits to the methods one should use to alleviate it.”

With the money raised by the War Refugee Board, Wallenberg rented 32 buildings in Budapest and declared them to be extraterritorial, protected by diplomatic immunity. He put up signs such as "The Swedish Library" and "The Swedish Research Institute" on their doors and hung oversize Swedish flags on the front of the buildings to bolster the deception. The buildings eventually housed almost 10,000 people.

Sandor Ardai, one of the drivers working for Wallenberg, recounted what Wallenberg did when he intercepted a trainload of Jews about to leave for Auschwitz:

... he climbed up on the roof of the train and began handing in protective passes through the doors which were not yet sealed. He ignored orders from the Germans for him to get down, then the Arrow Cross men began shooting and shouting at him to go away. He ignored them and calmly continued handing out passports to the hands that were reaching out for them. I believe the Arrow Cross men deliberately aimed over his head, as not one shot hit him, which would have been impossible otherwise. I think this is what they did because they were so impressed by his courage. After Wallenberg had handed over the last of the passports he ordered all those who had one to leave the train and walk to the caravan of cars parked nearby, all marked in Swedish colours. I don't remember exactly how many, but he saved dozens off that train, and the Germans and Arrow Cross were so dumbfounded they let him get away with it.

The pressures on Wallenberg intensified in October 1944 when the Hungarian Nazi Party, the Arrow Cross, seized power and vowed to finish what Eichmann had started. With Budapest’s remaining Jewish population in danger of imminent deportation, Wallenberg and his staff – including many Jews he had recruited – embarked on the large-scale issuance of forged passports that carried the protective Swedish royal seal. The Hungarian Nazis were at first duped by the flashy objects, but they soon grew intolerant of the impudent Swede. With his own life in ever-increasing danger, Wallenberg refused to abandon his crusade – but by the end of 1944, he was forced to retreat into Budapest’s dangerous underground network of safe houses. And so it was with great relief that Wallenberg greeted the occupying Russians. Although his mission was officially over, he requested a meeting with the new liberators to discuss the resettlement of Jewish refugees. The Soviets – who hated Jews almost as much as the Nazis – were equally eager to speak with this suspicious American-associated savior.

On 17 January 1945, Raoul Wallenberg was summoned to Red Army headquarters in Budapest, Hungary. Before setting off, he confided to one of his closest associates: “I do not know whether I am a guest of the Soviets or their prisoner.” Wallenberg was never seen a free man again – disappearing forevermore into the Soviet Gulag. It was a cruel fate for this wealthy, soft-spoken thirty-two-year-old Swede who had saved tens of thousands of Hungarian Jews from certain death. Wallenberg had miraculously survived the Nazi occupation of Hungary and Adolf Eichmann’s personal threat to kill him. He’d also survived the equally ruthless and fascistic Hungarian Arrow Cross regime. So when the Soviet Army entered Budapest in January 1945, Wallenberg’s superhuman mission to save the Hungarian Jews was seemingly over – 100,000 Jews were still alive in the capital, and most owed their lives to the fearless efforts of the Swedish diplomat. Wallenberg should have returned home to Sweden in honor. He had gone to Hungary, in his own words, “to save a nation” – and survived one unfathomable tyranny only to fall victim to another.

For years after the disappearance of Raoul Wallenberg, the Russians maintained that he was not in their custody. On February 6, 1957, the Soviets released a document dated July 17, 1947, which stated "I report that the prisoner Wallenberg who is well-known to you, died suddenly in his cell this night, probably as a result of a heart attack or heart failure. Pursuant to the instructions given by you that I personally have Wallenberg under my care, I request approval to make an autopsy with a view to establishing cause of death... I have personally notified the minister and it has been ordered that the body be cremated without autopsy." However, the last reported sightings of Wallenberg were by two independent witnesses who said they had evidence that he was in a prison in November 1987. In 1989, the Soviets returned Wallenberg's personal belongings to his family, including his passport and cigarette case. Soviet officials said they found the materials when they were upgrading the shelves in a store room.

In May 1996 the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) released thousands of previously classified documents regarding Raoul Wallenberg, in response to requests filed under the Freedom of Information Act. The documents, along with an investigation conducted by the publication US News and World Report, appeared to confirm the long-held suspicion that Wallenberg was an American intelligence asset during his time in Hungary. This disclosure has given rise to speculation as to whether, in addition to his efforts to rescue the Hungarian Jews, Wallenberg may have been pursuing a parallel clandestine mission aimed at politically destabilizing Hungary’s pro-Nazi government on behalf of the OSS. It also adds some credence to the suggestion that it was his association with US intelligence that led to Wallenberg being targeted by the Soviets in January 1945. In November 2000, Russia announced that Wallenberg had in fact been executed by KGB agents in Moscow’s Lubyanka Prison. No date was given, and no documented evidence for this claim has been found thus far.

Memorials to Raoul stand in the following nations: Argentina, Australia, Austria, Canada, German, Hungary, Israel, Russia, Sweden, United Kingdom and the United States. Schools were named for him in Argentina, Brazil, Canada, Ecuador, Germany, Hungary, Sweden, Uruguay, the United States and Venezuela.

The United States Congress made Wallenberg an Honorary Citizen of the United States in 1981, the second person to be so honored, after Winston Churchill. In 1985, the portion of 15th Street, SW in Washington, D.C. on which the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum is located, was renamed Raoul Wallenberg Place by Act of Congress.

This Memorial to Raoul Wallenberg in Budapest
was removed by the communist regime
and restored on the 50th anniversary of its demolition

16 January 1945

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

16 January, 1945       1600

Hello darling!

Didn’t think I could write today because of the most plausible reason – but just got temporarily settled and I’m sneaking a few minutes off.

Got some mail last night, sweetheart, at the last minute – but none from you! Heard from Verna and my brother by V-mail – both dated 1 January and the latest mail so far to date. Verna wrote about New Year’s Eve – although she didn’t go into detail about the Party or who ran it. Also told me about the Levines – the reception to come (and now past) etc. Enjoyed hearing from her.

Lawrence wrote about Carlisle – of course - and he didn’t seem to mind it very much.

Sure wish I’d hear from you, darling. It would help immeasurably on some of these particularly confusing days to read that you still love me as I do you. But you know it and I do and that’s one great consolation – believe me, dear. Don’t know if I can write tomorrow or not. All for now. So long for awhile.

All my love for always

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about the End of the Bulge

CLICK TO ENLARGE

Dashed red line shows how far the Germans penetrated
by 26 December 1944
Solid red line shows how far the Germans were pushed back
by 16 January 1945

Here is more of Sgt Theodore DRAPER's story of the 84th:

By 1745, 16 January 1945, elements of the 2nd Armored held the northern part of Houffalize, while elements of the 11th Armored Division held the southern portion. When was the Bulge wiped out? That may never be decided to everyone's satisfaction because a number of patrols were frantically trying to make contact with a number of other patrols at the same time. I can merely report how and when the 84th Infantry Division closed the Bulge for itself.

A 33-man patrol, led by Lieutenant Byron Blankenship, representing the 334thInfantry Regiment of the 84th Infantry Division, left Filly at 1100, 15 January 1945. At 1145 they crossed the Ourthe in two 400-pound rubber boats, which they carried. The rest of the afternoon they spent in an old mill on the other side of the Ourthe.

At the camp-site, the water-mill is still present.
Here, the 33 soldiers of Lt. Blankenship
(84th Infantry Division)
stayed overnight before the meeting.

Just before dark, Lieutenant Blankenship led a small patrol into the village of Engreux, about one thousand yards from the Ourthe, where he expected to meet a patrol from the Third Army. He found the village free of the enemy but he found no sign of the Third Army's patrol. Late that night, Lieutenant Blankenship received word that the rendezvous had been changed. Starting off again at midnight, the patrol moved out across some more woods and over a 1,200-yard ridge.

Houffalize - January 1945

At 0220, 16 January 1945, in the dead of night, they stopped at a small Belgian farmhouse. The whole family, papa, mama, a son and a daughter of 22 turned itself into a reception committee. There were bread, butter, and hot coffee. The patrol decided the rendezvous had been changed for a good reason.

That morning at 0930, Private First Class Rodney Himes, second in command of the patrol,spied a soldier walking outside the farmhouse. since the patrol had been ordered to stay inside the house, Private First Class Himes began to "Bawl him out" and asked him "What outfit he was from". The answer was a platoon of Cavalry from the 11th Armored Division, U.S. Third Army.

A half-track makes its way over the Ourthe River

Infantry and Lieutenant Lucas of the 11th Armored Cavalry. The Bulge was wiped out after thirteen days of hard, continuous fighting.

Memorial commemorating the meeting of
the 1st Army and the 3rd Army on 16 January 1945.
(Photo by: Geert-Jan van Glabbeek)

The memorial consists of three plaques on a natural rock, at the entrance of the camp-site "Du Moulin de Rensiwez", near a bridge across the Ourthe. The top-plaque contains a picture of the meeting. The other plaques contains the following text in English and French:

HERE ON 16 JAN 1945
THE BULGE WAS WIPED OUT
BY THE JUNCTION OF
THE 84TH. INF. DIV. AND THE 11TH. A.D

15 January 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

15 January, 1945        1130

Good morning, sweetheart –

Just time enough to get a little start but I hope to be back right after lunch and finish up. It’s been a pretty busy morning, dear, but I like that on Monday because it sort of gets the week started. The weather is clear again today and that’s always good news around here. I get so depressed on a bad day because I know that one way or another – it’s delaying the war and that, darling, is always a source of great irritation to me.

One of the boys – just came in and is waiting for me to go to chow, dear, so I’ll be off and be with you in a short time –

1430

Hello, again – sweetheart –

My – doesn’t time fly! At lunch – a meeting was announced for 1300 and then following that, I had to see a couple of patients from a neighboring outfit. The meeting, by the way, dear – was about the usual – namely plans for the immediate future, new locations etc. Annoying as it is to continually roll up your bed roll, let out the air from your mattress, and gather up your junk – we still don’t mind too much so long as we’re going in the right direction. You can imagine, darling, how aggravating it must have been to us to go in the opposite direction.

Last night we played Bridge again – the Chaplain and I challenging the Col and our personnel adjutant. Usually we change partners after each rubber and keep individual scores. We beat them 3 rubbers straight – all 700 rubbers. The score was something like 4400 to 390 – which is quite a drubbing, I think.

I got no mail yesterday and none today (it got in early today) and the mail service is really becoming smelly. Of course I have “my love” to keep me warm, darling – but I sure do love to hear from you and I feel quite disappointed on the days I don’t.

I did want to mention something you brought up some time ago, dear – namely the casualty lists – and the number of them that must have a depressing effect on you – and I can understand it. But you must learn to become impersonal about it – otherwise your imagination will

1545

It’s just a tough day today, darling, and you’ll have to excuse the lack of continuity. I’ve been in and out of my room. Maybe I can finish this in one more sitting. I started to say that you ought to pay no attention to the casualty lists. It won’t do any good and more often – it will do harm. Just remember that I’m always looking out for myself and that’s the most important thing of all in a combat zone.

I never did answer your question in reference to Cyn and her desire for excessive amounts of salt. I’m not sure I know. Sometimes it represents a disturbance in the salt balance in the blood and that of course may be due to half a dozen different causes. Often it is lost in the urine, or it isn’t absorbed correctly from the diet; the adrenals may be the seat of the trouble – or it may mean nothing at all. An M.D. would want to know about her appetite, loss or gain in weight, easy fatigability, change in the complexion of the skin and with that information he would still want to do half a dozen blood tests. You’ll have to tell me more, dear – and at no extra cost – either.

I was sorry to hear about Irv Fine's mole – but it's probably better by now. Herb Fouger should know what he’s talking about though, dear – because he’s been doing pathology and been working with a top-notcher – Don Nickerson – at the Salem Hosp.

And those attempted puns – concerning our former location at a dept. store – underwear, ladies – street floor! When I got thru reading what you had to say, my breath was coming in short pants; as puns, I’d call it a series of bloomers, and naturally – even with a two-way stretch of the imagination, I couldn’t take much stockin’ any of it. It was nylon to 10 minutes before I caught on to the first one and then I girdled myself and kept on reading. You sure step-in to a lot when you start something like that and hereafter – try a night-cap first! Now that ought to end that! (Nice try – Cyn!)

Have to quit now, darling. This letter seems jumbled to me – so I won’t re-read it. This part is clear, though, dear – and that is that I love only you and hard! Love to the folks and

All my everlasting love –

Greg

P.S. Enclosed card from Italy – Just a bit gaudy but different.

L.G.

* TIDBIT *

about Struthof-Natzweiler

From TIME magazine, in the issue published January 15, 1945 (Vol. XLV No. 3), comes this articles called: "Science: Nazi Research".

It has been rumored that Nazi scientists have used civilian prisoners as guinea pigs for macabre biological experiments. Last week the rumors were documented. A French investigating commission reported on a huge prison camp in Alsace where hundreds of men & women had been tortured and killed under carefully controlled conditions in order to supply data for Nazi science.

The camp, known as Struthof-Natzweiler, was found in a thick wood in the Vosges foothills, 30 miles from Strasbourg. Near its rows of dark green huts was a "laboratory" equipped with gas and torture chambers, a crematorium, a vivisection room. There some 20,000 people (mostly Jews) were abused and killed.

Some were inoculated with plague and leprosy germs. Thirty women were deliberately blinded, then given a 15-day "treatment" during which they screamed incessantly. (At the end a few recovered their sight, but all were put to death.) In another experiment, a white-uniformed doctor led 84 young women in batches to the gas chamber. German professors watched their dying reactions through a window.

The investigators got this sickening story from captured German assistants in the laboratory and French peasants who lived nearby. Director of the Nazi researchers was a Professor August Hirt of Frankfurt, an SS officer.

Reported Sonia Tamara, New York Herald Tribune correspondent: "The French have a picture of Hirt—a quiet, thoughtful-looking man."

Now here's the rest of the story, much of which comes from the site called Struthof.

After the Armistice of 22 June 1940, Alsace and Moselle were annexed de facto by the 3rd Reich, German civil servants were appointed to run the administrations, the German currency and common law were imposed, the factories and mines "Germanized" and the use of French was banned. Starting in 1942, Alsacian and Mosellan men were conscripted into the Wehrmacht, the German army.

The small village of Struthof, on Mont-Louise, was a tourist resort much appreciated since the early 20th century, in particular by holidaymakers from Strasbourg who came for its hotel and ski slopes. But it was picked for its seam of pink granite discovered by the SS geologist Colonel Blumberg in September 1940. Himmler, head of the Gestapo and the police, and Oswald Pohl, head of the principal administrative and economic section of the SS (WVHA), wanted to build camps close to quarries in order to exploit the deportees, as in Mauthausen and Flossenbürg, as part of the Deutsche Erd und Steinwerke (DEST), the SS mining firm set up by Himmler in 1938.

The first deportees arrived in Struthof in two convoys from Sachsenhausen camp on 21 and 23 May 1941. They built the first huts of Struthof-Natzweiler. Declared a forbidden area, the camp was completed in October 1943.

CLICK TO ENLARGE

The former Struthof-Natzweiler camp's
barracks before their destruction in 1954

Nearly 52,000 people of thirty different nationalities were deported to the Struthof-Natzweiler camp or its annexes: the largest number were Poles, followed by Russians and French (1/4 from Alsace-Moselle), then Belgians, Norwegians, Luxemburgers, as well as Germans, Greeks, Yugoslavs, Czechs, Austrians, Lithuanians, Dutch, Italians and Slovenians...

Natzweiler’s deportees came from prisons, internment camps and other concentration camps all over Europe. The intake process was the same for all of them. They got off the train at the Rothau railway station, walked or rode in trucks to the camp and received a registration number. They were stripped of their identities and personal belongings, deloused, disinfected and given mismatched clothing or, sometimes, striped uniforms. All discovered a world where they were no more than numbers and sub-humans.

The deportees had been arrested for all sorts of reasons. Most of the camp’s earliest deportees were common criminals, “asocials” and political prisoners from Germany. The first Poles and deportees from lands annexed by the Third Reich (the Sudetenland in Czechoslovakia and Alsace-Lorraine) began arriving in 1942. The following year many people from Luxembourg and Resistance members of different nationalities — Belgians, Dutch, Norwegians and French — began streaming in from various concentration camps and prisons throughout Europe. The French included many military men, in particular members of the Secret Army and the Organisation of Armed Resistance. In June 1943 the first convoy of French "NN" deportees arrived in Natzweiler. They had been arrested as Resistance fighters under the Nazi’s 1941 “Nacht und Nebel” (“Night and Fog”) decrees, which aimed at eliminating all the Resistance movements and opponents of German occupation. They were imprisoned, deported, totally cut off from the outside world and doomed to a slow death by work, exhaustion, hunger and disease. Some were eventually sentenced at the court in Breslau; others were kept in the camps without trials. Their loved ones had no news about them. In 1944 the Germans started deporting Jews, mainly from Poland and Hungary, to the annex camps.

The central camp was the only concentration camp in France. Its annexes, scattered over the 2 sides of the Rhine, made up a network of nearly 70 camps, of varying size. Of the nearly 52,000 detainees of Struthof-Natzweiler, about 35,000 did not go through the central camp. From 1941 to 1945, Struthof-Natzweiler was one of the most murderous camps of the Nazi system. Nearly 22,000 deportees died there, although at Struthof-Natzweiler the deportees were not gassed systematically, nor after mass selections.

Beatings, diseases, exhaustion and death were the daily lot of the prisoners. They suffered from the wounds left by blows inflicted on them by the Kapos and the SS, as well as from the bites of the dogs trained to attack them. They could also be punished and sentenced to be beaten on the beating rack or locked up in the bunker on the lower part of the camp. Skeleton-like, exhausted, wounded, ill, deprived of treatment whether or not they were admitted in to the infirmary, many of them died. Detainees who attempted to escape or were simply suspected of doing so incurred the death penalty by hanging or the firing squad. In the central camp of Struthof-Natzweiler, the mortality rate was 40%; in the camp annexes, it could rise to 80%.

Rock Quarry Car and Execution Gallows

The Gestapo of Strasbourg also used the camp as a place of execution. In 1943, thirteen young men from Ballersdorf (upper Rhine region) were shot in the quarry for refusing to be conscripted into the Wehrmacht army and trying to leave the annexed region. In September 1944, just before the evacuation of the camp, members of the Alliance network and maquisards from the Vosges mountains were taken to the camp to be executed. They all died in the oven of the crematorium block.

In addition to forced labor and executions at Struthof-Natzweiler, a series of "medical" experiments were conducted as part of the work of the the Reich University of Strasbourg, and Ahnenerbe, the SS administration attached to the headquarters of Himmler in Berlin. The principal perpetrators of these experiments were August Hirt, a professor of anatomy known internationally, Otto Bickenbach, a professor of medicine and specialist in combat gases, and Eugen Haagen, a virologist who had discovered a vaccination against typhus that put him on the short-list for the Nobel Prize for medicine in 1936.

August Hirt (1898-1945)
carried out experiments on mustard gas
and planned to create a collection of skeletons
using the bodies of 86 Jews deported from Auschwitz.


Eugen Haagen (1898-1972)
continued his work on the effects of typhus

Otto Bickenbach (1901-1971)
carried out experiments on phosgene gas

The gas chamber was designed in 1943 by the camp commandant, Josef Kramer, at the request of Nazi professors of medicine from the Reich University of Strasbourg to carry out medical experiments. The gas chamber was set up in a small room of 9 sq m in the dance hall of the Struthof Inn, already requisitioned for the SS troops. From 14 to 21 August 1943, 86 Jewish deportees from the Auschwitz camp were gassed here; their bodies were supposed to provide a collection of skeletons for Professor August Hirt. The gas chamber was also used to study new gases. Deportees, mostly Gypsies, served as guinea-pigs.

Gas Chamber

On 23 November 1944, the Allies discovered the site evacuated by the Nazis since September.

Strathof-Narzweiler Monument to the Dead


Close-up of the monument tells its own story

14 January 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

14 January, 1945

Sunday         1315

Wilma, darling –

It’s one swell day here today and I’d love to be taking you out for a ride this p.m. The roads are still a bit slippery, but we could go slowly and take our time about it. The air corps has been out and active today and that’s something for this time of year. We all like to see it. I suppose the news from home sounds better and that optimism is again the key note. I hope they don’t overdo it though.

Well last evening at 1730 I went to a movie – the Colonel and a few other officers went along. Our aid station is set up near a field artillery observation C.P. and they were putting it on and invited us. It’s still the most incongruous thing imaginable to sit in a shell of a building, in a war zone and see a technicolor picture, pretty girls, dancing etc . But so far in this war, at any rate, the movies have done a job in relaxing us, I think. The movie by the way was “Greenwich Village” with Ameche and Carmen Miranda. Ordinarily I don’t like a picture like that – but after the recent bleakness, cold and snow – the color and the costumes really seemed warming. Then too, ahem – this Vivian Blaine wasn’t very hard to look at – Did you see it, dear?

"I Like to Be Loved by You" by Harry Warren and Mack Gordon,
performed by Carmen Miranda in Greenwich Village, 1944



Vivian Blaine

After the movie we went up to the Colonel’s room and played some Bridge. I held some lousy cards – but a couple of nights ago I held beautiful hands, so I guess it all equals up.

This a.m. I didn’t have a very busy sick-call and I was glad because I had something big lined up. Guess what – a bath. Now anyone, darling, can take a bath – but without a bathtub – that’s something else again. It’s done with 2 basins, water and no mirrors – and it always ends up in a mess, but what the heck – it’s better than none at all – and showers just aren’t available around here. Anyway it took me until noon – and I was actually tired, dear, when I got through; No – not from scrubbing! It’s just that you have to bend down, stand up, stoop; you get the floor wet, you slip, you catch yourself falling and you upset one of the basins. Then you’re really all messed up and willing to quit. I got thru it fairly well and would consider myself about 70-75% clean.

Say I happened to come across a V-mail you sent me on 7 December. It had got caught between one of your other letters and I had forgotten about it. I’ve just re-read it and noted with a start your news of Les White. Gosh – he had such good plans and bingo – he ends up in the infantry and gets himself wounded. I sure hope it was nothing serious and that he’s up and around again. It must have been tough on Betty but she used the correct rationalization when she said he was out of the battle for awhile, anyway. Do you happen to know what division he’s with?

Well – I’ve just been interrupted, sweetheart. I’ve got to chase over to the Aid Station and see a fellow with bum feet – probably frost-bitten. I’ll close now ‘cause I don’t know when I’ll be back, dear. I hope all is well with you, darling, and that you’re managing to keep a stiff upper lip. That’s all-important these days and I know you’re capable of doing it. My love to the folks, dear – and remember – You’ll always have

My everlasting love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about "Frozen Hell"

This story, titled "Frozen Hell," is about an experience of twenty year old Private Daniel R. "Bob" Shine, 289th Infantry Regiment, 75th Infantry Division as written by his son, Dan Shine. It took place about 15 miles southeast of Greg's Aid Station.

Near Salmchateau, Belgium.
1500 hours 14 January 1945

A young soldier cautiously approached Item Company's line of snowy foxholes as the afternoon sky began to darken. To the men nearby he looked like a rookie; he was clearly timid about entering this place of death and destruction. His uniform was still almost spotless. No doubt he'd been eating hot "C" rations and sleeping under cover right up until now.

They observed him casually. A battle veteran could usually tell whether a new man would crack under fire, just by looking at him, and you didn't want a guy to crack up while he was sharing your foxhole. This particular guy had a baby face, and probably hadn't even started to shave yet. He couldn't be more than eighteen. The occasional German mortar shell that fell nearby made him jump.

From his foxhole, Sergeant Gilbert spoke to the new private and pointed to an open spot in the line of foxholes. The replacement turned and made his way to the appointed spot. He leaned his M-1 up against a tree, and took out his entrenching tool. In moments, he was chipping at the frozen surface of the Belgian soil.

Over the next twenty minutes, the sounds of chopping and digging filled the air. Twice as he dug, the replacement slipped and almost fell into his unfinished foxhole. The men watched silently as he glanced around and tried to regain his dignity. Finally, his hole complete, the replacement grabbed his rifle, climbed in, and took his position on the line. No doubt he was trying to figure out what would happen next.

He probably never heard the fluttering sound of the approaching mortar shell, but the men around him did, and they ducked deeper into their foxholes. An abrupt explosion shook the ground and threw bits of something through the air; there were the sudden smells of burned cordite and singed flesh.

The soldiers looked in horror at the foxhole of the new replacement. Smoke billowed out of it, and pieces of bloody flesh were everywhere. Tattered bits of his uniform and a length of intestine hung from broken tree branches above the burned foxhole, and next to the tree lay a boot with part of a leg still in it.

That was it, thought Private Daniel R. "Bob" Shine as he sat in his foxhole watching the day turn into night. One minute you're alive and all in one piece; the next minute you're gone and nobody has even had the time to find out who you were. And God knows where your dog tags were blown to... Although he and the other men had seen this kind of thing happen before, nobody ever really got used to it. Night fell, and it began to snow, masking the frozen pieces of what had once been a man.

In the early morning hours Item Company assembled for their attack of Salmchateau. Today they would be facing elements of the 326th Volksgrenadiers and remnants of the 62nd Volksgrenadiers.

Shine was the bodyguard to Lieutenant Rocco Durante. He and the lieutenant led their platoon through the snowy predawn darkness and the day's first light. As it became fully light, they left the forest and followed a dirt road into the village. This was usually the moment when things began to happen, and as the second man in the advancing column, Shine was frightened. As was often said, "Any man who wasn't frightened at these moments would have to be insane".

They had almost reached a bridge leading into town, when there was a sharp "crack" to their right front, and the lieutenant went down. Shine, following him about three paces back, rolled Durante over and saw a bullet hole cutting the lieutenant's belt loop just to the right of the belt buckle. As he took the lieutenant's pants down, he saw the point of the bullet just breaking the skin near the lieutenant's groin. Evidently the bullet had ricocheted off of a bone.

To remain stationary in a spot such as this was to invite disaster. Shine and the others moved forward, and left the lieutenant for the medical corpsmen who would be following.

To the foot soldier of WWII, nothing was more reassuring than the feel of an M-1 rifle in his hands. It promised power and accuracy at the squeeze of a trigger. It also promised to be a heavy burden on a long march. The M-1 rifle weighed almost ten pounds--about twice the weight of an M-1 carbine. In the infantry, enlisted men carried the rifles and officers carried the carbines.

Behind Shine, Private Krizan eyed the M-1 carbine dropped by the lieutenant. Like most riflemen, his arms ached from carrying the heavy rifle; here was something more attractive. He picked up the carbine and resumed his advance. That was the last mistake he ever made.

There was another sharp "crack" from the high ground on their right, and Krizan went down and rolled over on his back. Shine looked back at Krizan; he lay there with a neat little bullet hole right between his glazed eyes. Beneath his head, a crimson stain began to spread in the white snow. The sniper, seeing a carbine in Krizan's grip had mistaken him for an officer, and killed him.

About this time Shine figured his number was coming up. He ran and caught up with the squad as they prepared to clear the first house on their side of the street. Private "Snuffy" Toth went into the front door, fragmentation grenade in hand with pin pulled, threw the grenade and turned to get out. As he turned, he slipped on the ceramic tile floor and fell. Before he could get up the grenade exploded. Snuffy staggered out the door and went down again. He was badly shaken up, and the squad left him behind for the medics as they advanced through the town from house to house, clearing them as they went. Most of the Germans had fled. There was no further sniper fire, but still some incoming artillery and a few pockets of resistance from the houses.

Late in the evening, they found three or four Germans holed up in a cellar at the far edge of town. One of them made a menacing move and the three Americans facing them fired at once. The result was devastating.

Item Company spearheaded the attack on Salmchateau and won the town, thus meeting their objective. Their ranks had been thinned that day by deaths, wounds and frostbite cases. Snuffy Toth was finished as a front line soldier; the explosion of his grenade had left him shell-shocked. He was eventually evacuated. Lieutenant Durante was also evacuated, and they didn't see him again.

Shine's squad spent the night billeted in the stucco and stone houses of Salmchateau, while outside, the dead of both armies froze into grotesque positions. And as the dead and the living slept, once again it began to snow...

Whitewashed Sherman in pursuit of Panzers
Salm-Château, Belgium - January 1945


Salm-Château, Belgium Today

13 January 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

13 January, 1945       1415

Dearest sweetheart –

Let’s see, where was I? Oh yes – I was just starting, dear. Well here it is Saturday afternoon and I haven’t had a chance to plan for tonight. I guess I’ll just let things ride and see what happens. I’ve been down to Charlie Battery today. I left here at 1120 and returned a short while ago. I saw Pete and had lunch with him and he sends his best regards, dear. I was busy the early part of the morning and I’ve got a few things to look after later on. Last night was quiet – but we finally got a decent lot of mail and every one was in good spirits – including myself. I got your letters of 2, 5 and 6 of December, several bulletins from the Salem Hospital, a nice letter of Christmas greetings from Walter Phippen, a couple of Christmas cards and some medical literature. In these days, sweetheart, that’s quite a haul.

Letters received nowadays are so old – but boy – are they ever welcome! Your letter of 2 Dec. was written at Marian’s house and it really sounds like a cozy spot. Too bad I couldn’t have been along with you, darling. I’d have kept you warm, I think. It’s really country up there though; I know the region fairly well – particularly Portland. I used to travel up there summers – working for my father and I had several accounts in Portland; on the whole – it’s a rather drab city as I remember it, although it livened up considerably with the influx of summer visitors from nearby beaches.

I was very much interested in your account of the evening spent at the house with several other people there – particularly your statement that “everyone tried to discourage me from marriage”. Why, dear? I could understand it if I were getting ready to go overseas and we were thinking of marriage. But we aren’t thinking of it naturally – until I get back – then why are they discouraging you? I can see only age difference as the argument. Am I correct, dear? I often wonder how many people discuss that angle with you and what the consensus of opinion is. That was always an important point in my own mind and I think about it quite a bit, still.

And then I read your letter of 5 December and although the contents worried me a bit, I couldn’t help but admit it smelled nice. Did you perfume that letter, dear, or can’t you remember. About the contents, darling – and my folks and sisters in relation to you; I don’t know what I can say or do. What you write me is strictly between us of course and I wouldn’t mention a word. As I’ve said before, I know things would be different were I at home and once I get back I’m sure everything will be easier. About my mother’s not calling – you should know by now, darling, that my mother is very retiring and I’ll bet she doesn’t call because she doesn’t want to disturb you; I can’t understand Ruth – unless she’s very busy and with Irv and his operation etc – she probably has been. I do think that both my mother and Ruth could and should call you – but at this point – I’m not going to write them that. I feel that you’re capable and diplomatic enough, darling, to work things out for yourself, but I do hope that everything remains smooth between all of you.

Sometimes I, too, wish we had been married before I left. If there had been some way to guarantee that I’d come back – and the same way as I left – I believe we could have been. As for getting along financially – that would have been very easy. I’m losing out on something like 120 dollars or so per month by not being married and that plus part of my salary would certainly have taken care of you. Any job you managed to get would have been so much gravy. Oh well – it’s pretty hard to plan ahead – when you’re going overseas for the first time, darling; guess I’ve got more experience now.

And no, sweetheart, thanks – but I don’t need warm clothing etc. I have available perhaps 20 or 25 blankets. I’ve got sweaters, gloves and a scarf and I’m pretty comfortable – but thanks for asking. We learned – this outfit did – on maneuvers – and in some ways I guess you could call us field-wise.

I would so love to see you, sweetheart, to talk with you and tell you I love you instead of writing it; to ask you a question and not have to wait 6 weeks for an answer. It is hard – so damned hard at times – but dammit – I can take it and I hope you can, too.

All for now, darling. My best regards to the family and so long for awhile.

My deepest love,

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about the Counter-Offensive, Continued

Here is more of Sgt Theodore DRAPER's story of the 84th:

At 0730, 13 January 1945, the 1st Battalion, 334th Infantry, moved out from the La Roche Road to take a hill about 1,500 yards north of Berismenil.

CLICK TO ENLARGE PICTURES
LaRoche - January 1945


Berismenil, Belgium - Today

Only sniper fire was encountered and the objective was taken by 1100. At 1415, the 1st Battalion went forward again to take another hill about 750 yards northeast of Berismenil - one of our commanders once said wistfully: "Every time I see a hill, I know it's going to be our next objective." By 1800, the 1st Battalion had taken its second hill against light resistance. Nevertheless, the situation was confused because orientation in the dark was difficult. When a patrol carrying blankets was fired on from the rear, it was clear that the battalion was almost entirely surrounded by the enemy.

347th Infantry Regiment of the 87th Infantry Division
get a meal after getting winter boots near Berismenil
13 January 1945

Later that night, a reconnaissance patrol was sent to investigate the enemy's position south of the hill but failed to return. Then the battalion commander, Major Roland L. Kolb, decided to see for himself. Leading another patrol, he suddenly observed a German "command car" pull up to the base of the hill and halt. Two men stepped out and began to walk up the hill. When the pair approached near enough, the patrol jumped out of hiding. One of their prisoners turned out to be Captain Hanagottfried von Watzdorf, commander of the 1st Battalion, 60th Panzer Grenadiers, 116th Panzer Division. Unaware that his MLR had been penetrated to a depth of more than one thousand yards, the German commander was out on a tour of inspection. In perfect English, he exclaimed: "I am astonished." The commander of one battalion had personally captured the commander of the enemy's battalion opposite him and he had to keep him all night before he could deliver him safely. Berismenil itself was captured by the 2nd Battalion, 335th Infantry. It covered three thousand yards of trails, thereby achieving a considerable degree of surprise but giving up all possibility of using any vehicles to back up the attack.

As a result, Berismenil was captured almost without opposition. By the end of the day, 13 January 1945, the enemy had been cleared out of approximately half the 84th Infantry Division's zone. The other half was rapidly cleaned out the next day. Nadrin was occupied by the 1st Battalion, 334th Infantry, at 1130, 14 January 1945. Only some machine guns and small-arms resistance was encountered.

At 0800, 13 January 1945, the 2nd Battalion, 333rd Infantry, jumped off from Les Tailles for the third time in two days. After taking Collas, a little village southwest of Les Tailles, at 1000, it struck out for the woods. Immediately, the terrain became worse than the enemy, though the latter did his best to help. The roads were terrible, barely more than trails. Under the snow, which now had ten days to accumulate, they were invisible. By 1200, the enemy's activity became more stubborn. By the end of the day, we had penetrated only five hundred yards. The problem of getting through the woods was faced that night. Two narrow trails ran through the woods to Dinez and two special task forces were formed to get through these trails. Both started out at 8000 the next day, 14 January 1945.

Here is what became of Major Roland L. Kolb, the American battalion commander who took prisoner a German battalion commander, as printed on page 88 of the Sarasota (Florida) Herald Tribune on 15 May, 2001:

CLICK TO ENLARGE

12 January 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

12 January, 1945       1145

My dearest sweetheart

It’s late in the morning to be writing but I’ll get a few words in before leaving for lunch. Yesterday I didn’t get a chance to write you, dear. (What! Again!) I was away from battalion all day from 0830 until 1830. I covered about 130 miles and I didn’t really thaw out until about 1000 this morning – no fooling. I had to visit several hospitals to get some data on some of our soldiers and it was quite a day. There was no one else to do it for me either. By the way, I forgot to tell you – our dental officer is in the hospital – with asthma. I don’t know the latest rulings on that. They used to eliminate those cases from the service; then they re-classified them. I won’t be sorry if he doesn’t get back to us, frankly, although it leaves me short. Too bad Lawrence isn’t over here. Wouldn’t that be something if he could be in the same outfit as I!

This has been a tough month for us – there’s no use kidding about it. The weather is just like New England’s – maybe not as cold as the recent cold wave I’ve read about – but cold enough – and with plenty of snow and ice. Each new C.P. location we have is a bit worse than the preceding one – because the area here has really taken a beating in recent weeks. But all in all – we’re better off than the infantry and I wouldn’t classify any of the above, darling, as complaining.

1315

Hello again, dear –

Chow was only fair – but we have our best meal in the evening and the food has been very good – considering circumstances.

Some time ago, dear, you told me about a scrapbook you had started, and I failed to mention it in my letters to you. I guess you must have realized I had received the letter – because I’ve been digging through all my files and sending stuff on that I’d been saving. I’m glad you started the book, darling, because I’ll like to see some of the things after the war – and they’ll be safe with you. Anything else I come across – I’ll keep sending along – with or without comment, and you can put them where you like. Although I keep taking pictures – I won’t have any to send home until the war ends, I guess, because I don’t dare try to have then developed after having had 4 rolls confiscated. And by the way – in one of the packages I sent you a week or so ago – the largest one – a collection of photographs taken by Rothschild on a trip he once made – there are a couple of loose paintings. They’re not particularly good – but they’re colorful and definitely European. There’s also one etching – in black and white – and that is an original one. It’s a sketch of Stolberg Castle, Germany, given to me by a German patient from Stolberg – when I was there. I’ve taken some pictures of the Castle – but I liked the sketch particularly. We’ll have it framed someday, dear.

The paintings are about 10.5 x 14 inches
and somewhat cropped by the scan.

CLICK TO ENLARGE
   


Sketch (Etching) of Stolberg Castle, Germany

I don’t know if I told you about the 2 German novels I sent home – I guess I did – at that. We’ll put them in our library someday, too. And while I’m talking about packages – remember my telling you about the dagger I was sending to you? Well, darling, to make the parcel really morbid – I included a Nazi “Persuader” I happened to come across some time ago. It is not a riding crop. Seems to me you should be receiving about 5 or 6 packages in a row and not one practical gift, sweetheart! Well – I like to collect things, dear – anything at all – except girls, I guess. I don’t collect those, I just pick one and then I stop collecting. Is that all right with you, dear??

I’ll have to shut up now and get over to the aid station and do some work. Of all the g-d things, I have to write a medical history of the detachment for the past year – activities, experiences, suggestions and all that sort of hooey. What a hell of a thing to be doing in the middle of a combat zone!

All for now, sweetheart – I’ve really got to get going. No mail for some time, dear – but maybe today. For now, dear – so long and love to the folks. Just in case you’ve been in doubt, I love you, I love you, I love you – and gosh darling – how I mean that!

All my everlasting love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Medics in the Bulge
Part 3: Combat Fatigue

The following was extracted from "Medics in the Bulge," by Ralph Storm, as found on page 19 of "The Bulge Bugle, Volume 25, No. 1, February, 2006. The photos are from various places on the internet.

In 1941, the Army lacked a definition, a treatment system, or even a name for its psychiatric casualties. These casualties by the end of the war would amount to over one hundred fifty thousand, or a average for every three men killed or wounded, one other soldier became a combat exhaustion case.

Medical writer Albert Cowdry described some of the symptoms of the soldiers with combat exhaustion:

Intolerable weariness and baseless alarm. Some were stuporous and withdrawn, some tense and violent, some suffered from Parkinson-like tremor or from delusions... They were beyond self control and orders and threats meant nothing. Weeping, shaking, curling up in the fetal position... they had ceased to be soldiers for a time.

Traditionally, the shell-shocked soldiers had been treated administratively rather than through medical channels. In the Civil War many shell shocked men were treated as cowards and ere shot to death. At that time, women were supposed to be "fragile" while men were supposed to be tough and resilient. There was little medical aid for psychiatric casualties after that war, and in one state - Indiana - nearly three hundred Civil War veterans were locked up in lunatic asylums.

Veteran war correspondent Ernie Pyle was deeply touched when he met two GI psychiatric casualties:

two shock cases... staggering down the road. They were not wounded but were completely broken... the kind that stab into your heart. There were shaking all over, and had to hold on to each other like little girls when they walked. The doctor stopped them. They could barely talk, barely understand. He told them to wait down at the next corner until we came back, and then they could ride. When they turned away from the Jeep, they turned slowly and unsteadily, a step at a time, like men who were awfully drunk. Their mouths hung open and their eyes stared, and they still held onto each other. They were just like idiots. They had found more war that the human spirit can endure.

The "thousand-yard stare"

There were a number of instances in which high ranking officers revealed the traditional Army view toward combat fatigue. One of these involved General George Patton when he visited the 15th and 93rd Evacuation Hospitals in Sicily, slapped one soldier and threatened to shoot another whom he call "A God-damned coward, a yellow son-of-a-bitch."

Once during the Bulge, General Matthew Ridgeway encountered a dysfunctional sergeant. An hour later in the same spot, the tough airborne General Ridgeway came under enemy fire, and a sergeant nearby became almost hysterical.

He threw himself into the ditch by the side of the road crying and raving. I walked over and tried to talk to him, trying to help him get hold of himself. But it had no effect. He was just crouched there in the ditch, cringing in utter terror. So I called my Jeep driver, Sergeant Farmer and told him to take his carbine and march this man back to the nearest MP and if he started to escape to shoot him without hesitation. He was an object of abject cowardice and the sight of him would have a terrible effect on any American soldier who might see him.

There were basically two types of combat exhaustion. One occurred among new troops just before combat or during their first five days at the front. Some traumatic event of violence or carnage was simply intolerable. Michael Douler cited the case of a Ranger Battalion GI who witnessed a decapitation event in the Hurtgen Forest:

A new replacement in the elite 2nd Ranger Battalion saw the head of a fellow Ranger less than three feet away, blown completely off. The new soldier became speechless, did not know his name and could not recognize anyone around him. (The soldier was finally sent to a stateside psychiatric ward).

A second type of combat exhaustion occurred among veteran soldiers who had survived hard, continuous fighting for four months or more. Paul Fussell argued that what the U.S. Military learned about combat fatigue in world War II was that "men will inevitably go mad in battle and that no appeal to patriotism, manliness, or loyalty to the group will ultimately matter.

At times some officers suspected that some soldiers were feigning their "combat fatigue." Paul Boesch, a 28th Infantry Division platoon leader alleged that his platoon sergeant had deserted under the guise of combat exhaustion:

My platoon sergeant was missing. One sectional leader, a soft-spoken Georgian T/Sgt Arthur N. Clarke, explained his absence. "Lieutenant," Clarke said slowly, "Jim left. The first time that machine gun fired, he handed me his Tommy gun and said he couldn't take it any more. He took off."

I listened... stunned. "He said for me to take charge of the platoon," Clarke continued. I could hardly believe it. The platoon sergeant was the same man who, less than a week before when I had first joined the platoon, had stepped forward, his eyes shifting a bit, and regaled the replacements who had arrived with me. "Listen you guys," he had barked harshly, "I don't want any of you guys to turn yella, see! A yellowbelly sonofabitch is worse than a damn Jerry! If you see a man turn yella and run, shoot him in the back like a dirty dog!"

This, I thought, was the man who was going to shoot the first "Yellowbelly" in the back. To leave the platoon this way was just plain desertion. "Hey Lieutenant," one of the men shouted, "is that the guy who was going to shoot us in the back?"

An Army policy gradually developed that viewed combat exhaustion patients as temporarily disabled soldiers. Treatment consisted of at least a day's rest, sedation, hot meals, and dry clothing. More severe cases were sent to treatment centers at Ciney, Belgium and Luneville, France. Here is how decisions came to be made:

CLICK TO ENLARGE

Diagram of sorting choices
and labels for battle fatigue cases
from Global Security's chapter on Battle Fatigue
where definitions can be found

11 January 1945

No letter today. Just this:

The following photographs were taken by Greg and labeled only "January 1945" "Ardennes" or "Belgium." With dates unspecified, they are shown here.

CLICK TO ENLARGE PHOTOS


Greg and his Driver in the Ardennes
Belgium - January 1945


Aid Station in Abandoned House (Notice "WILMA TOO" on Jeep)
Belgium - January 1945


Village in the Ardennes
Belgium - January 1945


Battle was Going On on the Other Side of the Hill
Yup - That's a Foxhole!
Belgium - January 1945


Note Shrapnel Marks on Houses Following German Shelling
Belgium - January 1945


Stayed in this Town Several Days
Belgium - January 1945

* TIDBIT *

about Medics in the Bulge
Part 2

The following information is excerpted from "Medics in the Bulge," by Ralph Storm, as found on page 18 of "The Bulge Bugle, Volume XXV, No. 1, February, 2006. The photos are from various places on the internet.

During medical training

During medical training, army medics received training in the use of the carbine and .45 pistol since some medics went to the Pacific war in which the Japanese had not signed the Geneva convention. Although medics in the ETO were not armed, many medics carried pistols for self protection. Donald Ratliff, recalled how his 75th Division medics once captured a German in Vielsalm, Belgium:

One night in Vielsalm, Belgium, we went into a house to set up a battalion aid station. One of the men opened a closet door and a German soldier was sitting on the floor. He quickly surrendered when one of the men showed a .45 pistol.

517th PIR 3rd Battalion CP (left) and Aid Station (right)
Manhay, Belgium - January 1945

For the most part the Germans respected the rules of land warfare and did not shoot at combat medics while they did their first aid work and litter bearing in the forward areas.

Medic Transports Wounded Soldier

Medic Philip Hahn of the Medical Detachment, 13th Field Artillery observation recalled an extraordinary situation in which his German cousin in a German field artillery position observed an American army aid station near Walheim, Germany:

The last towns we were in before the Bulge were small towns near Aachen. One was Walheim. After the war I visited my cousin who was a Lt. In the German Field Artillery. In looking over his records I saw the name of Walheim. He said that he had the crossroads zeroed in… He knew exactly what farmhouse we had for an aid-station because of the Red-Cross hanging from a window and that there were probably German civilians living there.

There were many exceptions to the above incident. Peter Couvillion served as an evacuation Jeep driver with the 9th Armored Division in Luxembourg, and recalled one of these exceptions:

On the second day (of the Bulge) after all our line companies had been surrounded, we attempted to contact "C" Company. In route we encountered a battle line of Germans. They did not shoot at us. On this mission we evacuated 16 wounded and left the slightly wounded behind… Early that morning my assistant and I contacted our "B" Company. We found the Company Medic. Leading us to where he had some wounded, a sniper shot both the Company Medic and my assistant. Both died before I could get to them. Men from the platoon found the sniper and shot him.

During the early days of the Bulge

During the early days of the Bulge when German mechanized units broke through American lines at a number of place, some medical units were captured and sent into Germany as prisoners. Emil Keith Natalle of the 326th Airborne Medical Company of the 101st Airborne Division's Combat Surgical Hospital, was located at the Sprimont crossroads, southwest of Bastogne on December 19, 1944. On this "Day 4" of the Bulge and again during the night, the area was attacked by troops of the 116th Panzer Grenadiers. A number of medical vehicles carrying wounded were set afire:

Blood curdling screams were heard coming from the burning vehicles... The German officer told Capt. Van Gorder to select a soldier and go with one German soldier to the burning vehicles and try to rescue the trapped men… The German soldier (and Natalle) could not get closer than 50 yards from the blazing vehicles. Both soldiers returned to the officers…(Later this writer was assigned to drive one of the 2½ ton, 4x4 trucks carrying wounded. So with a German soldier beside me we pulled away from the site of capture, headed toward Germany and fearful of what lay ahead… It would take 12 days before some of us arrived at our first German prisoner of war camp - Stalag IV-B near Hulhberg.