Thank-you for your interest in the small part that I played in defeating Hitler's Nazi Germany, and in the liberation of Europe. Now to tell you a little bit about myself.
I was born the second child to Ford and America Lewis on April 12, 1924 in Clay County, Manchester, Kentucky; this was a small coal-mining town in the Appalachian Mountains. My parents had a total of five children, (Steve, Lane, Lee, Jan, and Earl) all boys. My oldest brother Steve Lewis had joined the Army in 1940, There was not much work in Manchester, other than coal mining or moon-shinning. A person usually had to leave Manchester to obtain work. I first heard about the Japanese attack on Pearl 'Harbor, while I was at home listening to the radio. This was before television, and everyone listened to the radio for entertainment and for the news. I was seventeen years old at the time, too young to join the service, but this attack made the whole country and me mad! The Japs had attacked us without a formal declaration of war.
In January of 1943, my cousin Cloyd Hoskins, and I volunteered to join the service. At this time you could not chose what branch of service you wanted to enter The military placed you where there was the most need. Cloyd was placed in the Army Air Corp, (Air Force) as a door gunner on a B-17, and I was placed in the Army with the Tank Destroyers. Cloyd was able to return home the next year after completing fifty combat air missions. I went by bus from Manchester, Kentucky to Fort Thomas, Kentucky, where I took my oath and was inducted Into the service. My basic pay as a private was fifty dollars a month. After being there for nine days, I traveled by train to a military camp near Fort Worth, Texas. This Is where I received my basic training for a period of 13 weeks. I was then transported by military truck to Camp Hood, Texas. Camp Hood was named for John Bell Hood, a famous Confederate General in the American Civil War from Texas.
Camp Hood
It was at Camp Hood that I first volunteered for the paratroopers. I wanted to join this elite unit because I felt it was the best, and I would be sure to see action with the paratroopers, but I was not accepted because I was too tall, 6 feet 1 inch, and also too thin, 130 pounds. My first impression of the military was favorable. For the first time in my life, I had money in my pockets, I received free medical care, and ate three square meals a day. At Camp Hood, I received my training on the 76mm anti-tank gun. After a month of training, I was given a five-day pass! My friend, John J. Joyce, and another follow also was given a five-day pass.
Now John owned a car and it just so happened that his wife was here at Camp Hood. John and his wife lived in Louisville Kentucky. They asked another soldier and me if we wanted to ride with them to Louisville. As a condition of riding with them, John said that we would have to help him drive. We agreed, so off we went. There was only one problem; I didn't have the faintest Idea of how to drive a car. Very few people in Manchester could afford a car. I never even rode in a car until I joined the army, when I got to ride in a loop. John drove first, his wife was sitting in the front seat, and we were in the back. I tried to observe how John was driving. It looked fairly easy. Later on that night John said, "OK Lewis your turn to drive".
I got behind the wheel of the car, shifted into first gear, gave the car a little gas, and drove onto the highway. I was feeling confident now, but my confidence was not shared by the others. It seems that I was all over the road traveling at night along winding roads in excess of 80 MPH! I must have scared them all, because they didn't ask me to drive anymore. We arrived in Louisville that morning and we all parted company.
I was going to hitchhike to Manchester. I was able to catch a ride to Gray Hawk, Kentucky, arriving there that evening. A couple noticed me in uniform standing in front of their home, out in the street trying to catch another ride. The man came to me and said that since it was getting late there would be no more traffic going to Manchester. He asked me to stay with them that night and I could catch the mail truck the next morning to Manchester. I stayed there that night and caught the mail truck to Manchester arriving there that mid morning. I was only able to stay a few hours, as I had to leave that very night. It was good to see my mother and, three brothers. I left that night wondering if I would ever be back. I caught a ride into London, Kentucky and left by bus going to Camp Robinson, which was near Little Rock, Arkansas.
My company had moved from Camp Hood, Texas to Camp Robinson. On arriving at Camp Robinson, my company was not there. I didn't know what to do, so I just stayed on base. After two days the MP's (Military Police) noticed me just standing around and asked me what I was doing. I explained to them that I came back expecting to be reunited with my company but it wasn't here. The MP's didn't believe me and took me to the Provost Marshall. After listening to my story, the Provost Marshall believed me and ordered to two MPs to put me on a bus to Camp Shelby, where my company had moved. I arrived there the next day.
Camp Shelby is near Hattiesburg, Mississippi. After completing training here I was shipped to Camp Howze for advanced anti-tank training. After this training the military in all its wisdom, transferred me to Brownsville, Texas for anti-aircraft artillery training. After a two-week course here, I was properly trained as an antiaircraft gunner and I was reunited with the 611th tank destroyer battalion at Camp Howze. I received a letter from home telling me that my younger brother Lee had joined the service and was being trained as a gunner with 105mm artillery. My father, Ford Lewis, had joined, the army again and was serving in the Army Air Corp in the China-Burma Theater. He had been a veteran of World War I, but wanted to serve his country again even though 69 was nearly fifty years old! He was a very brave man.
While at Camp Howze, I once again volunteered to join the elite paratroopers, but was denied again for the same reasons. After more training, the military disbanded the tank destroyer unit I was with, because we towed the 76mm ATG with an M-3 Halftrack, and it was being replaced with the self-propelled M-10 Tank Destroyer Tank. I was then transfer to Camp Miles Standish near Boston, Massachusetts, where I was placed in a replacement depot. Here I received orders to be shipped overseas to Liverpool, England as an Infantryman. I was advanced to PFC (Private First Class) or as we named it, Praying For Civilian.
Being a PFC gave me an increase of an extra four dollars months pay. My pay was now fifty dollars basic, plus four dollars for being a PFC, and ten dollars a month for overseas' pay making a total of sixty-four dollars a month. I wondered if I would ever to be able to return home to the United States.
Overseas
I left the United States on June 2, 1944 on board the U.S.S. George Washington this ship was formally the Mount Vernon and it had been converted from a luxury liner to a troop ship. It was ironic, but this was the same ship that my brother Jan returned from his occupational duty in Germany in 1947. I arrived in England on June 12, 1944. While I was on board ship, I heard the news that the Allies had Invaded Europe (D-Day) at Normandy, France. I said a silent prayer for the safety of those allied soldiers. In England, I received training as an infantryman,. About one month later, a Major from the 82nd Airborne came to our unit to ask for volunteers. During the Normandy Invasion it had suffered heavy casualties, and was in need of replacements. The 82nd Airborne has a long history of military service. It was the very first airborne division organIzed, it made its' first jump Into Sicily in 1943. This was the unit that Sergeant Alvin C. York had been a member of during the First World War. I had always wanted to join the 82nd, which was called the All-American Division. Once again I stepped forward to volunteer and this time I was accepted.
I was sent to Wollaton Park, Nottingham, England for jump school. Nottingham was where the legendary Robin Hood had lived with his merry men in Sherwood Forest hundreds of years ago. An old English castle was near the bass. From Wollaton Park I made five practice jumps and received my parachute wings. During one practice jump, I saw one follow jump out of the plane and his chute didn't open. That gave me a sick feeling as I watched him fall to the ground. EverytIme after that when I jumped out of a plans, this was always in the back of my mind. The parachute wings signified that I was indeed a paratrooper in one of America's best divisions.
My monthly pay was now $134.00, fifty dollars basic pay, fifty dollars jump pay, twenty dollars overseas pay, ten dollars combat pay, and four dollars for being a PFC. I was rich. I remember a huge mirror that was placed near the entrance to the base. As you would walk out you would see yourself in the mirror, which had this sign over it; 'You are looking at the best damm soldier in the United States Army!' I believed this! I felt like I could take on the whole German Army, of course being so young I never thought I would be killed or wounded. It was always the other guy that would got it, not me.
I continued my parachute training here untill I was assigned to the 508th Parachute Infantry Regiment, (The Red Devils), 3rd Battalion (Colonel Roy E. Lindquist commanding), Company G (Captain Russell C. Wilde commanding).
To France
I was shipped to Sissonne, France on September 17, 1944, a Sunday, where the 508th Was stationed. As I was leaving England for shipment to France, I noticed the British 1st Airborne loading up on planes, and flying off toward Europe. 'I wondered where they were headed.. When I arrived in Sissonne, France, I arrived at an empty camp; the 508th regiment had already left for Nijmegen, Holland. This was the Market Garden Offensive. I had just missed this major battle by a few hours [If I had arrived a few hours earlier, I would have made the jump into Nijmegen.]
I was disappointed that I had missed out on the action. Camp Sissonne was an old French military training area, which we now occupied. After the Battle for Holland (Market Garden), the 508th Regiment returned to Camp Sissonne for rest and more training. I listened with excitement to the stories from the returning veterans of the battle for Holland. Their stories only made me more anxious to fight the Nazis. It was always my goal to cut the mustache off of Adolf Hitler. For the next three months we continued our training.
I became qualified with the bazooka, a man-hold rocket launcher for use against tanks. I guess they thought that since I had been in a Tank Destroyer unit, I would be a natural for the bazooka. I was also armed with the M3a1, a 45mm submachinegun, which was nicked named the *grease gun" because it looked like a mechanics' grease gun. While I was stationed at Camp Sissonne, my brother Steve flow in to visit me. He was now a Major in charge of Logistics. He commanded a unit of trucks that brought supplies from the coastal area to the front lines. What was funny, was like myself, he couldn't even drive. Being a Major, he had some poor private to chauffeur him around. He stayed for a few hours and we talked about home, and then he had to leave. It was good to see my brother, and that he was well and unharmed.
I received a three-day pass to visit Paris, France. It was a very beautiful city, slightly larger than my hometown of Manchester. I rode up to the top of the Eiffel Tower, watched a French movie, and toured the other famous sites of the city. When I returned to camp there were rumors of us making a combat jump into Berlin to capture Hitler and many other wild rumors about the 82nd making combat lumps to other places. It didn't look like we were going to be making any more combat lumps. The Germans were on the run and were a beaten army, with no fight left in them. We were beginning to believe the stories that the war would be over by Christmas, why even Hitler's own people had tried to kill him in July. I thought about home and how good it would be to be there again. December 16, 1944 was a day just like any other day for us. We didn't know it then, but this was the beginning of the Ardennes Offensive (Battle of the Bulge). The Nazis were going for broke in a last ditch effort to destroy the Allied forces and win the war.
Battle of the Bulge
We first learned of the German Ardennes Offensive the next day December 17th, when news of the German attack came to us. The 82nd Division was put on alert, ready to move into action at a moment's notice. General Eisenhower had on ly us and the 101st Airborne Divisions as his reserve.
This German attack had caught the Allies by surprise, even though we were an Airborne Division there was no time to plan for a combat jump, so on December 18, 1944 we loaded up on trucks and rode for thirteen hours to Werbomont, Belgium arriving there on December 19th. We were going into action. Here we dug foxholes and set up a defensive position awaiting further orders. We could hear the dull rumble of gunfire coming from the east. We had not been attacked by the Germans while we were there, so we were ordered to march to another position. Our two other regiments, (505th & 504th) had made some contact with the Germans. We wondered what all the fuss was about; none of us had the faintest conception of the big picture, or what the next few weeks would contain.
On the night of the 20th we received orders to march towards Vielsalm, Belgium, which is on the Salm River. On the 21st we received orders to march to Goronne. As my regiment moved forward we encountered German patrols looking for us. We caused the Germans to retreat back to their units. We set up defensive positions on a wooded ridge called Their-du-Mont, south of Goronne. We hold this position to allow other American units to withdraw behind the Salm River, away from the advancing Germans that were encircling St Vith. During this period it began to snow.
This was our first, experience at winter warfare. The weather was very cold, and the fog would cover the whole area. When seeing other American units approaching our positions, we were extra careful because we had heard that the Germans were dressing up in American uniforms and driving U.S. vehicles trying to penetrate our lines. We would ask these strange units questions that only an American would know, like how many home runs did Babe Ruth hit, or what state is called the Bluegrass State? On the afternoon of December 24, a field order came down from Division headquarters ordering the Division to withdraw to a now defensive position.
This was a shock to all of us! Our unit had always prided itself on its record of 'No ground gained ever relinquished,' and now we were being ordered to give up ground and retreat! We were all mad! That night, Christmas Eve, we fell back towards Arbrefontaine.
Once arriving there we were ordered to continue our march to Erria, Belgium and hold it at all hazards. Erria was a small town of several hundred people, We arrived here that night, I remember as we were marching into town seeing the uprooted civilians that were leaving Erria in wagons and by foot. I felt compassion for these poor people displaced by the war and leaving their homes with what few possessions they could carry. I also, noticed that the farm stock stayed in covered barns, which were underneath the houses. Since it was Christmas Eve some of the civilians of Erria invited us Into their homes to warm up by the fire and drink a glass of cognac in Christmas celebration. That night we set up defensive positions and waited for the German attack. Christmas day found us cold and hungry in Erria. We did receive a cold turkey dinner but, no presents, or even mail,, but one thing was certain; the Germans would NOT pass this line, and there would be no more withdrawal!
Our engineers laid barb wire and landmines out in front of our positions. For three days the Germans probed our lines trying to find a weakness. The Germans would shell our positions with artillery and mortar fire; they even fired buzz bombs at us! My buddy and I had dug a large foxhole and covered it with logs and dirt. One morning when we got up out of our foxhole we noticed that we had received a direct hit from a mortar shell fired during last night's artillery attack, but we didn't even hear it! DurIng this time it snowed about two more feet of snow and it was very cold. The Germans would continue to shell us with mortar and artillery attacks. At night the German would send over their aircraft to. strafe and bomb our lines. We called these planes 'Bed Check Charlie.'
On December 27th around midnight, two German S.S. battalions came out of the woods and attacked our lines that night with full force and determination. Their attack came across the open fields in front of our positions in Erria. A private in our company named Grassino was manning the listening post in front of our lines about 100 yards from our positions. When the German attack began, he panicked and ran back towards our lines. We yelled 'Halt, who goes there! but he kept on running towards us. We didn't know if was him, we thought he was the enemy, and we opened fire and shot him. It was not until the next morning that we saw who it was. We were all sick over killing our own man! Our artillery observers called in fire support as soon as the attack started. Soon 105mm and, 155mm artillery shells were falling among the advancing S.S. From my foxhole I could see the shells bursting, lighting up the night sky. The artillery fire was really something to see! This caused very heavy causalities upon the Germans, but they were very brave and continued their assault. My company (G) was pushed out of Erria by this strong attack.
Running as fast as I could, we left the Germans behind. Several hours later we regrouped and counterattacked the Germans with the support of parts of E, F and I Companies. The Germans were so confident that we would not return, that we captured many of them asleep in our own bedrolls The Germans during the attack had captured my friend John Hodge, but our counterattack was so quick and sudden that the Germans left in great haste leaving John behind. He was sure glad to see us again. We had all heard the stories about the S.S. killing their prisoners. This counterattack pushed the S.S. out of Erria and they were forced to retreat, back across the open fields. As they retreated our artillery batteries caught them in the open again. Their loses were very heavy. I could hear the Germans screaming as they lay lying in the snow. The German sergeants would call out row call to their platoons to determine how many men were lost and to try and maintain order. Not many Germans answered this row call. The next morning when it became light, I could see the open fields covered with the frozen dead Germans. There must have been at least 100 bodies there in those fields. I felt pity for these poor brave fallen soldiers.
We later learned that this attack was made by the 19th S.S. Panzer Grenadier Regiment from the 9th S.S. Panzer Division. This regiment was formed from Germans living in the Black Sea area, and they had earned the reputation as the elite regiment of the division. That morning we strengthened our positions and captured a few more German soldiers who had been left behind followIng our attack that had recaptured Erria. I remember seeing the graves registration unit as it gathered all the dead and stacked them up like firewood in one of the streets of Erria. Several of the dead had their fingers cut off by the graves registration people who had stolen their rings. This was my first real combat experience and I was scared to death the whole time! I had never fired a weapon in anger before. Death was now to me, I had never seen so many dead people before, and I hoped that I never would again.
The end of December and the beginning of January were spent improving our defenses and patrolling the enemy positions to our front in preparation for an attack to retake all lost ground. January 1, 1,945, Now Year's Day was just another day to me. During the first days of January, the German attack was halted just east of the Mouse River. Supreme Headquarters wanted the Germans pushed back all the way back to Germany.
January Counterattack
On January 2, 1945, the 82nd Airborne Division received an order for a large-scale attack to begin the next day, ending the defensive phase of the battle. Now we would be on the attack and Germans would be on the defensive. Many Germans would never make it back to the Fatherland.
The attack started as scheduled on January 3, 1945 led by the 504th PIR and the 325th GIR. My regiment remained in reserve. For four days we advanced slowly forward through the snow behind the other two regiments. We could hear gunfire in the distance. Since I was so tall, I usually led the way making a path through the deep snow for all the others to march through. This whole time we were moving forward, I remember thinking; I wonder what's going to happen next. We stayed close enough to be in support of either regiment's attack should they need us. The night of January 6, 1945 our regiment received attack orders, ordering us to retake Their-du-Mont, the ridge from which we had been ordered to withdraw from on Christmas Eve. My company (G) would lead this assault on the morning of the next day, January 7th.
Even though I was dead tired, I didn't sleep well that night. I now know how horrible combat could be, and I wasn't anxious to got back in the thick of things again. We all tried to look like we weren't scared. We would joke and carry on, anything to take our minds off what we would have to face in the next days' attack. Although we were all scared, we were ready to do our duty and finish this war, so we could all go home.. No one wanted to let down his buddies. We dug our foxholes in a wooded area and tried to get some rest. Our sergeant woke us up on the morning of the 7th while it was still dark; we held our weapons tight as we nervously waited for first light. Our attack would start out by moving through fifty yards of wooded area then having to cross about eight hundred yards of open fields until we reached our objective of the wooded ridge of Their-du-Mont.
I couldn't help but think of the S.S. soldiers who had been slaughtered as they crossed the open fields during their attack on Erria. Soon the quiet was broken by the sound of our artillery firing smoke rounds in front of the German positions. This would obstruct their view of us as we advanced into the open. Captain Wilde gave the order to attack, so with determination we jumped out of our foxholes and advanced towards Their-du-Mont. A soldier that had been in the foxhole with me did not come out when I did. He was still asleep! I tried to wake him, but he wouldn't wake up, so I left him behind. He later returned to our company two or three weeks later. He had been so frightened on the morning of the attack; he had gone into a state of deep sleep.
I had moved just a short distance through the woods, when I got the feeling that someone was watching me. I caught a glimpse of someone behind me. I turned around ready to fire, and there was standing a large German soldier with his hands raised up. He wanted to surrender. He could have very easily killed me, but he didn't. I led him to an old inground coal mine where we were keeping all the Germans prisoners we had captured. He was happy to go there. For him the war was now over. Maybe this attack wouldn't be so difficult after all. I had barely moved from my foxhole and already the Germans were wanting to surrender.
I ran forward to catch up with the rest of my company. As our company advanced rapidly across the open fields, five M-10 Tank Destroyers., moved along with us in support of the attack. After moving ahead a short distance, the smoke rounds began to lift, making us visible to the Germans who were defending the ridge at Their-du-Mont. Suddenly one of our soldiers shouted, 'My God, look at that! There about 500 yards ahead were three well camouflaged barrels of the powerful German 88mm gun.. These guns were defended by infantry in foxholes, with several machine gun nests scattered along the ridge. 'Bazookas up front! Captain Wilde ordered.
At that same moment the German 88's opened fire. Blam! Blam! Just like that four of the M10's were hit and destroyed. Along with another bazookaman, we ran forward and took aim at the one of the German 88's. The target was at the extreme range of the bazooka. The Germans saw us taking aim at them, and they began to fire their shells at us. Shells were bursting in the trees around us, throwing red-hot scrapnel all around. I loaded a high-explosive round and fired first. My round left the tube and spiraled out of control to the ground. It was a dud round!
The other bazookaman fired his round and it was a direct hit on, the protective shield of the 88, driving off all the crew who were not killed or wounded. For this action, he received the Silver Star for gallantry. This was our nation's third highest medal for gallantry. If my round had not been a dud, I would have received the Silver Star. The remaining Germ ' an 88's fired on us with a renewed determination. Shells were bursting all around us. We were being slaughtered! Realizing that to remain in the open was certain death, Captain Wilde ordered us to charge the ridge ahead of us.
We all ran forward; soldiers were falling to either side of me. I saw one soldier after another get hit and fall to the ground, his blood staining the white snow. The noise was deafening, bullets were throwing up the snow all around me, and artillery shells were bursting everywhere. One artillery shell landed between another soldier and me. The blast of the shell picked us up and lifted us both into the air; I landed hard back upon the frozen ground. I laid there dazed for a few moments. It was a miracle, but I wasn't hit. I got back up and continued the attack.
I don't know how it happened, but somehow I made it to the ridge alive. The Germans were in full retreat! I came upon one of the German 88mm guns, which had been hit by our artillery fire. There lay scattered around the gun the dead and wounded German guncrew. I saw one young German soldier sitting on the ground, wounded. He had a tourniquet wrapped around a bloody leg. I looked down at him, and he looked up at me with fear in his eyes. He was crying. I raised my weapon with the intention of firing at him and killing him, but I changed my mind and continue to move forward. I couldn't kill an unarmed man. I guess that he died of his wounds during the cold night.
The Germans were retreating down the ridge as fast as they could run. Some would fall to the ground and roll down the hill trying to throw off our aim as we fired at them. One German jumped into a foxhole to escape our fire. We saw where he went and he was quickly captured. Captain Wilde ordered us to take that son of a bitch back to the battalion headquarters and be back in ten minutes! Of course we all knew what the captain wanted. Battalion headquarters was at least a mile to the rear. No way could we take him back there and be back here in ten minutes, so he was taken into the woods and shot.
Now you have to remember that we had just charged across this field, and these were the men who had been firing on us. We left a lot of our friends behind as either killed or wounded, and these were the guys who did it! Our blood lust was all charged up. I couldn't justify killing a prisoner, but I understood why it happened. From on top of the ridge, I could look down below and see the German tanks and other vehicles retreating along the road back towards Germany,
I saw an American P-51 make a strafing attack against these retreating German columns. The plane would make one attack after another. Several German vehicles were hit and started to burn. The German anti-aircraft guns were all firing on this plane, suddenly I noticed that the plane was on fire and the pilot bailed out. As the pilot floated down towards the ground, several of us rushed out to rescue him from the Germans. He was sure glad to see us and not be captured by the Germans he had just shot up. A couple of us took some of his silk parachute as a souvenir, which I still have today. One fellow wrapped a piece of the parachute around his neck like it was a scarf.
The German tanks started to fire at us, 'let's get out of here!' someone said. As we started to run, the fellow with the scarf on was hit in the neck by a big piece of shrapnel, and his whole head just came off! Blood splattered everywhere. We couldn't run fast enough to get away from this fire! Somehow we made it unharmed back to the ridge. We reoccupied the same positions that we had when we were here last December, before being ordered to withdraw. When Captain Wilde radioed back to Major Bell about the company reaching its objectives, Our Divisional commander, General Gavin happened to be there with Major Bell in the battalion headquarters. When he heard of our success he told Major Bell that this was the best job he had ever had done for him. I remember Major Bell as having red hair and a big red handle bar mustache.
General "Jumping Jim" Gavin visited our company that day to commend us for our valiant assault. This was the first time I had ever seen a real live General up close. He had an M-1 strapped across his shoulder. He talked with us, asked where we were from, and told us about the good job we had done. Our company had started the day with 110 men. At the end of the day we had 33 men left who were fit for combat. A lot of my friends were left dead and dying in the snow. It was so cold that night that many of the wounded died. I was just glad to be alive. I still don't know how I was able to make that charge and not be killed. My friend Sergeant Al Hess avid I slept in the same foxhole we had dug in December. It was so very cold that night, but I fell right off to sleep.
The next morning I woke up to excruciating pain in my back. I could hardly move! I guess when the artillery shell picked me up and threw me to the ground; I had injured my back. I still couldn't believe that I was alive! Why I had survived, and so many of friends didn't I will never know. The good Lord was just looking after me. We stayed in defense of Their-du-Mont for three days. Thanks goodness, there was not much action here during this time. This gave my back a chance to heal. The Germans were beaten and in full retreat. One of our soldiers went souvenir hunting, and he found four nazi flags from one of the German tanks that had been destroyed by the P-51. Every day you could look up in the sky and see what looked like hundreds of planes flying towards Germany to drop their bombs. Once I was watching a flight of B-17's fly over, when thousands of strips of alumnum fell from some the planes. This to jam the German radar as they approached their targets.
Pulled Back
On January 10, we learned that we were going to be relieved and pulled back into a rest camp. One good thing about being in an elite airborne division was that we were shock troops and we would leave after gaining the objective. The next morning we left out positions at Their-du-Mont to begin our march back to Chevron, Belgium. The 75th Infantry Division was marching up to take over our old defensive positions. As we marched by them, the soldiers of the 75th would tell us what a great job we had done. We wished them good luck. This made us all feel good for what we had accomplished, but we were also filled with sadness. We were leaving a lot of good men behind who had given the last full measure for us and for their country.
We marched into Chevron that night. For the next ten days this would be our home. Here we received a new issue of clothes; some of the men received white camouflaged winter clothing. The engineers set up huge tents and heated water for us to take hot showers. After being in the field for twenty-four days, I'm sure we all needed a shower! I can't tell you how good this felt to be clean again. I had rejoined the human race again. My back continued to improve and I finally got thawed out.
Tired of hearing, 'Bazookas up front, Bazookas up front! I asked Sergeant Hess if I could to moved to the 60mm mortar, and he agreed. I would now carry the mortar tube. Let one of the new guys carry the bazooka. Our unit received new replacements, who were anxious to find out what combat was really like. I remembered when I listened to stories told by the returning veterans of the battle for Holland. They would soon find out for themselves what combat was all about, and they wouldn't like it. There were rumors everyday about us going back into the line. The Germans were still falling back into Germany. They were suffering huge causalities.
On January 21, the rumors came true and we were ordered back into action, We loaded up on trucks and arrived in the Deidenberg area that afternoon. We were relieving the 23rd infantry regiment, which was from the 2nd infantry division. The snow' here was in some cases waist deep high and it was extremely cold. We occupied their defensive positions and wondered what was going to happen next. We didn't have long to wait; we were subject to intense artillery barrages. This artillery fire was very accurate; it was almost as if the Germans could see our positions.
The next day a report came in to us that there was a German soldier located in one of the houses to our front. A patrol was sent out to investigate. A check of the civilians in the area revealed the mystery of the accurate German artillery fire. A German first sergeant with several radios was found in his grandmother's house. He had been directing artillery fire on our positions. After his capture, the German artillery fire was not very accurate.
We stayed in these positions for three days, when on January 24th, we were ordered to withdraw behind the lines as a Corps reserve. As we were leaving, the Germans opened up on us with a powerful artillery barrage. This was their way of saying good-bye, and we were only too happy to leave. For two days we remained as a reserve, until being ordered back to the front lines. We assembled in the vicinity of Sart-lez-St. Vith that night.
We were making plans for the biggest allied attack yet to recapture the town of St. Vith. The 82nd Airborne and the 1st Infantry Divisions would make the assault. It was very cold the night before the planned attack. For the past few days, my back was in severe pain constantly. I was not looking forward to the attack on St. Vith. When would this terrible war be over I asked myself.
The attack began on the morning of the 28th. Our regiment was held in reserve as the other two regiments made the attack. It was snowing hard and a high wind was blowing, chilling us to the bone, as we moved our way forward. We could hear gunfire to our front; sometimes a stray artillery shell would land nearby. As long as we could kept moving we could stay warm, but the minute we stopped moving the cold would set in. It was the same old routine, run fifty steps, run fifty steps, then stop. I thought I would freeze to death!
As we were advancing toward St. Vith, I remember seeing forty or fifty dead horses scattered along the roadside. The Germans used horses to move their artillery. Being from a farm, it troubled me to see these poor dead horses.
Late that afternoon we arrived at Wallerode, and settled down for a rest. My back continued to bother me, it was a real struggle to walk and carry my gear. We heard that at 2nd battalion, a group of bypassed Germans wandered into their area. All the Germans were either killed or captured. About 8:00 that night we moved up into the forward assembly area. Our regiment would lead the attack tomorrow.
By midnight we had reached our area and were Issued ammunition and rations for the next day's assault. Colonel Lindquist ordered the 1st battalion to capture the village of Holzheim, and 2nd battalion to capture Medendorf. In reserve would be 3rd battalion. The next morning (January 29), we moved off in support of the 1st and 2nd battalion's attack. The regimental headquarters and our battalion moved up to a position behind the other two attackIng battalions. We had a ridge in front of us to prevent direct German observation.
The Germans must have had an artillery observer in the woods to out flank, because soon artillery shells were bursting among us! The shells were bursting overhead in the trees showering the area with hot steel fragments. As I was running for cover, I heard a loud swoosh sound. There stuck in the ground right next to me was an artillery shell! Thank God it was a dud, if it had exploded, I wouldn't be here today. We were able to move away from the artillery fire, but not before we had sustained twenty casualties. Sergeant Hess noticed the struggle I was having with my back, and he put me on an ambulance back to a rear area hospital. For me the Battle of the Bulge was over.
Hospital
The ambulance ride was cold and bumpy. The hospital was located several miles back from the front lines. I was taken to a huge tent that served as the hospital. I noticed that there were several wounded Germans here being treated by the US doctors. I stayed here for several days before being shipped back to the hospital in Brussels, Belgium. I was still in severe pain, when the army psychiatrist came to visit me. He wanted to know how I injured my back. I explained how an artillery shell had landed near me and the blast picked me up and I landed back hard on the ground. He looked at me with suspicion. He asked me, now Pfc. Lewis, you wouldn't try and fake your injury would you?'
Now this made me mad, what right did he have to ask me this, why he hadn't even been in combat! I had known men who had shot themselves to get out of combat, but not me.. I let the psychiatrist know that I had been truly injured in combat by hostile fire. He must have believed me, because I never saw him again. The Doctors told me that I was not eligible to receive the Purple Heart metal, because I had not lost any blood. They said that if 'when I had fallen back to the ground I could have cut my hand, then I would be eligible to receive the Purple Heart.' I didn't want the medal anyway; no one wanted this medal.
After about a week, I was moved back to Camp Sissonne for further treatment. My brother Steve visited me here to see how I was doing. It was good to talk with him again and to know that he was OK. I learned from letters from home, that my other brother Lee had arrived in Europe in February. Now there was, my father, two brothers and myself involved in this war. My next to youngest brother, Jan, had joined the navy last January. He was only 16 years old, but he had lied to the recruiter about his age. This left my mother and my youngest brother Earl, all alone.
I would send $25.00 a month back home to help out. My mother is a strong willed woman and I knew they would make it all right. My back continued to improve. I had this pretty French nurse come and give me a rub down twice a day. What sacrifices I had to make for my country! Around the middle of February the doctors released me from the hospital and I was ordered to return to my unit at the front. I can't say I was anxious to get back.
I traveled by truck back to the 508th, which was located in the vicinity of Aachen, Germany. What I remember most about Aachen was all the bombed out buildings. Most of the snow had melted here. My back was feeling OK now; at least I could walk. As we crossed into Germany I saw the famous Siegfried Line. There were Dragon Teeth as far as the eye could see. These were no obstacles to our movement, as the engineers had built a bridge over them. As the truck convoy came in sight of the German artillery, they began to open fire at us. Once the shells started landing near the trucks, the black soldiers who were the drivers all jumped out and ran for cover, I picked up my gear and ran to my unit. They were glad to see me. I caught up on all the events that had happened to the company during my absence, Our unit was staying in the German town of Schmidt. I stayed in a German couple's home with two women and their daughter. Their husbands were off with the German army fighting the war for the Fatherland. I stayed here for only two nights when we received orders to return to Camp Sissonne. By February 20th, we had arrived back at Camp Sissonne. We didn't know it then, but the fighting days of the 508th Parachute Infantry during World War II had come to a close.
Back at Camp Sissonne we had several Division reviews, as well as a number of regimental parades. We continued our training to stay sharp. To keep your jump status active, you had to made at least one practice jump every ninety days. On March 14th the first and second battalion made a practice jump. As the men began to pour out from the doors disaster struck! One of the C-47's at the end of the formation lost its propeller from its right engine. This caused the plans to lose attitude running into the troops who had jumped from the planes at the front of the formation. Chute after chute was picked up on the wing and tail as the C-47 plunged to the ground and burst into flames. Seven paratroopers and four of the plane crew were killed. Our battalion was scheduled to make a practice jump the next day. As I jumped out, I looked at the planes that were in the rear of the formation. I was not anxious to have a repeat performance from yesterday's jump. It was so very sad, that this close to the end of the war and eleven men lost their lives due to an accident. Such a pity. For the rest of the month we continued our training. On the morning of the 24th a large formation of C-47s towing gliders flew overhead. They were making a combat jump into Germany to secure a bridgehead over the Rhine River. We were only too happy not to be going along.
On April 4th the 508th PIR was moved by truck to Chartres, France, which was southwest of Paris. Here we were stationed around several. airfields, prepared to jump on forty-eight hours' notice to liberate allied prisoner of war camps, should the Germans resort to atrocities. The rumor we heard was that we were going to jump into Yugoslavia to liberate the POWs. On my birthday, April 12th we heard the news that our President, Franklin Delano Roosevelt had died. A lot of our men openly wept. He had been the only President we could remember. He had led us through the Great Depression and on the verge of leading us to victory in Europe, he was gone!
War Winding Down
The war was winding down now. We were across the Rhine River in force, the last major obstacle before Berlin. Germany was finished. The allies were able to move through Germany at will. We spent the rest of the month here just goofing off. I took a ride in a B-24 bomber, which was interesting.
One day several of us wanted to see what it would be like to ride in a glider. We went out to the airfield a caught a ride on a large glider. A C-47 towed us high up into the sky. The pilot pulled the release lever and the glider went to a dive. Up and down, up and down the glider went, it was like being on a roller coaster. When we finally landed, it was the smoothest landing I had ever felt. We all got out of the glider, talking about how much fun we had and how easy the 325th Glider Infantry Regiment had it, when we noticed the pilot who had flown our glider. He was so drunk he couldn't even walk! He had to be lifted out of the pilot seat. Again the good Lord had been with me, what a tragedy it would have been to have been killed or injured this close to the and of the war.
One day I had a slight toothache. When sick call was announced for that morning, I told Sergeant Hess that I had a toothache. He said, 'Lewis, fall out and report to the dentists' offices. I was overjoyed, after a short visit to the dentist; I would be off for the rest of the day. The dentists' office was in a large tent. When I entered he ordered me to sit down. He asked me what was wrong and looked into my mouth. 'Looks like you have a cavity,' he said. A cavity, I thought to myself, I was beginning to become a little concerned. I had good reason to be. The dentist called his assistant to come over and sit down behind a hand-cranked generator. 'Now this won't hurt a bit,' the dentist said. I opened my mouth and the dentist began to use his drill to remove the cavity. Since there was no electricity, his assistant would turn the handle of a generator as fast as he could to power the drill. I thought I was going to die! The drill was not turning fast enough to be effective. It became even worse, when the dental assistant's arms got tired from turning the handle. After what seems hours, the dentist completed his work. I really had a toothache now! Never again would I ever make the mistake of reporting for sick call. My mouth was sore for two weeks after my cavity.
At the beginning of May, it was clear that the war was over. We received the magnificent news that Hitler had killed himself. The Nazis had been defeated! Now it was time for us to go home. We began to hear rumors that we would be shipped over to the Pacific Theater for the up coming Invasion of Japan. I hoped this was not true.
On May 7, 1945 the Nazis officially surrendered to the Allies. We were all over joyed. The war was finally over. A couple of weeks later our regiment was moved back to Camp Sissonne. Here the army began the process of sending It's soldiers home. Those of us, who had been wounded in combat, would be the first ones to return home.
For the next ten weeks, I just took it easy while waiting to go home. The 508th regiment was moved to Frankfurt-am-Main, Germany on June 7th, to become the guard to General Eisenhower. This became the headquarters for the Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force. I remained at Camp Sissonne waiting to go home. Finally in mid August I received my orders to go back home. With great excitement, I left Reims, France on a C-47 flying back to the United States. We refueled in Bermuda, and entered the United States at. New York City. After well over a year, I was home! I was then flown to the VA Hospital in Louisville, Kentucky. I stayed here for two months. Most of the time I just played sports. I tried golf for the very first time.
At long last on October 6, 1945, at Camp Atterberry, Indiana, I was honorably discharged from military service. Due to the injuries I received to my back while in combat, I was entitled to receive a 20% disability. This amount to eighteen dollars a month. A few days later I returned back home to Manchester. For me the war was over.
These are the facts as best as I can remember them. These events happened over fifty-five years ago. Some events remain very clear in my memory; while others are a distance memory. I hold no hard feeling against the Germans, like myself, they were just doing their duty as they saw it. I am proud of the service I did for my country, and I am a better man today because of it.
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