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The Night Mickey Did Not Get Shot
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| December 17, 1944. |
| The overall tenor of experience during a period of combat can often be encapsulated in the recounting of a very short term, specific experience, which by its intensity can be vividly recalled in fine detail, even after many years. |
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| The title of this vignette, if it needs one, is: "The Night Mickey Did Not Get Shot." |
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Troop "E" was a compact, close-knit group, a "Fighting machine" of very diverse men who had been "fine-tuned" by our leader Captain "Pappy" Meadows.
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| Our M-8 assault guns were veritable, mechanized armories, when consideration is given to all the extra armament we managed to acquire by devious means. The assigned equipment consisted of a 75 howitzer 50 cal. Machine gun, bazooka, rifles and grenades of all types. In addition to all this, each GI had his own personal preference as to what was needed to do the job at hand. My "extra" weapon, and pride and joy, was a Thompson sub-machine gun, the old "Chicago Typewriter" complete with cuts-compensator and the whole show. (None of those crazy "grease-gun" plumbers' friends for me!) |
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I did have to be content with ammunition clips rather than the original style drum. Possibly the Chicago hood who turned the particular gun in for the war effort forgot to include this drum. Anyway, it was a considerable comfort to be able to "hose-down" an area, at night when some unidentified noise or movement, real or imagined, came within the short range of the 45 slugs. I believe the statute of limitations has run it's course and I could not now be prosecuted, but I'm not ready, yet, to admit exactly how I acquired this unauthorized weapon.
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| Anyhow, to make a short story long, one of the accepted functions of mechanized cavalry was to act as "rear guard" when such was needed. To this end, we were assigned the duty of entrenching at a road intersection as "rear guard" while a large number of vehicles and personnel of an armored division task force withdrew and formed a new defense line further to the west. I was then our assigned duty to interdict and delay the onrushing Krauts, emboldened by victory, Schnapps and whatever else was imbibable (pre-crack). |
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| It is a major understatement to say that it was considerably unnerving to watch all this armor and heavy equipment proceeding away from the direction of battle. Unfortunately, such are the fates of combat. Finally, about dusk, the last vehicle had rumbled by, leaving only our "compact", close-knit, fighting machine to greet and "entertain" the Krauts whenever they elected to make their move. |
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| At dusk, it was decided that no one was to move at night. Also, it was concluded that a verbal challenge would be answered by a potato-masher into the open tank turret or a burst of burp-gun fire. Accordingly, it was decided that the orders of the night were to fire first and ask only afterward. |
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| Ground fog hung close to the snow covered ground. The thick, icy fog alternately lifted and settled, creating all sorts of imagined movement to whoever was on watch. During the bone chilling cold and spine-tingling suspense of a very long night, I was seated on the tank commander's seat in the open turret, wrapped in three GI blankets while on my duty shift, with my trusty Thompson to my right and below on a shelf. About 3:00 a.m., as the fog lifted ever so slightly, a lone figure suddenly materialized close in front of me. I reached frantically for the Thompson, but the carrying strap caught on a latch or projection and I was running out of time to deal with the moving figure. This left the only viable action of a verbal challenge, "Who's There?" |
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| From out of the mist materialized a hoarse whisper, "It's me, Mickey. What time is it?" |
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| I never did ask Mickey why he left his foxhole at such great risk to find out what time it was. Nor did I ever tell him how very close he came to being a statistic and how narrow the margin was between vividly remembered experience and grim tragedy. The very next morning I removed both the stock and carrying strap and thereafter fired the Thompson from the hip. |
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So, Mickey, if you are still out there, here's the story, much too late. Also, if you have not yet purchased a watch, maybe it's time to give some serious thought to such a purchase, and "don't leave home without it." Your very life may depend on it.
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| I have lost contact with all but a half dozen guys from this great compact, close-knit fighting machine and would surely like to hear from any others out there. |
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| Source: Memorable Bulge Incidents = 1994 |
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By T/4 Ralph SCHIP
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Troop "F"
18th Cavalry
Reconnaissance
Squadron
14th Cavalry Group
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Campaigns
Battle of the Bulge,
Belgium
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