It Could Have Been Me…

 

 It Could Have Been Me…
 
On December 11, 1944, we were in Verdun, France.  We had been transferred there from Cherbourg where we had helped rebuilt the harbor.  In Verdun we were repairing a hospital to take care of the wounded from the front line which was about 50 miles away. 
 
On December 16, 1944 (my birthday and I turned 20 years old) the German counter attacked through the Ardennes.  Seven days later on the 2”rd, we had our orders to move out and hold the southern flank of the attack.  After a cold night of traveling, we arrived at Moutfort, Luxembourg.  There we were attached to Task Force Reed, Combat Team Costello. 
 
Lieutenant Bogart asked for volunteers.  For some strange reason I raised my hand, along with my buddy, Bill Blucher. 
 
That night a truck from Troop “B” of the 2nd Cavalry  picked us up and took us to a forward observation and listening post on the top floor of a champagne factory, right on the bank of the Moselle River in the deserted Town of Grevenmacher.  Across the river was a small village, one of the houses had Venetian blinds, about eye high one of the slats had been removed.  It stuck out like a sore thumb.  We knew that house was their observation post. 
 
After I had been there two or three days, Bill woke me up one night.  “Shush,” he said, there is some one walking around down stairs.”  I got up off the floor where I was curled up sleeping and we went to the head of the broad winding stair. 
 
The 2nd Cavalry Troopers, who were a lot more experienced than Bill or I, had scattered broken glass on the ground floor in front of the stairs, that is what we were hearing, the crunching of glass on the tile floor as the Germans walked around.  While the cavalry men got their gear together, Bill and I stood guard at the top of the stairs. 
 
The next day, they started shelling the factory.  That night we moved to a 2-story house that was also on the river.  A 2nd Cavalry man told me about what he called a Gestapo concentration camp.  He showed me where it was.  The yard looked like where you would keep chickens—that’s the only way I can describe it.
 
It was built had chicken wire on the front about three-quarters of the way up.  Inside was a stack of shelves about four or five shelves high.  This is where the prisoners slept.  I went down into the basement and saw a door on the far side.  I opened it and looked inside.  On the far wall up against the ceiling was a clear story window that ran the width of the room and allowed light in.
 
What I saw made me realize that this was a crematorium room.  There were two stainless steel trays side-by-side.  They were slightly curved about 7 feet long, just perfect to hold a body.  The trays rode on rails that ran into the brick ovens.  I touched one and it slid silently into the oven.
 
In the corner was a pile of shoes that went from floor to ceiling—it was shaped like a pile of sand.  There must have been hundreds of shoes in that pile, each pair representing a life long past.
 
This crematorium must have worked a long time to accumulate this huge pile of shoes.  I’ve often wondered about this place, but I’ve never read anything about this camp in Grevenmacher.  While I was in this 2-story house, I heard the 2nd Cavalry was going to send a patrol across the river right in front of our OP.  I asked if I could tag along.  They said okay and they would pick me up that night.  But Bill talked me out of it, so I backed out.
 
That night the patrol checked in, then hauled their rubber boat to the bank of the river.  I was on duty that night.  Suddenly machine gun fire with tracers erupted from across the river.  We grabbed our 30 caliber machine gun and raced to the river to protect and back up the patrol.  One man was killed and several wounded the dead cavalry man fell into the boat which in turn started drifting down the river.  The next day we went looking for the boat.  From a low hill we could see the boat with the body, frozen on the shore, the cavalry retrieved their buddy that night.
 
I had often wondered about that incident, because it was incredible shooting, moonlight, across the river, and right into the patrol. 
 
The next day with the field glasses I looked across the river where I saw the tracer coming from, searching for the machine gun.  I saw nothing, it was that well camouflaged.  In fact in the week we were in this OP, neither I nor any one else had any inkling this machine gun was there on the river bank opposite us.  The Germans had occupied it at night and we heard nary a sound. 
 
After some years of researching, I found out that it was the 1st Company, 44th Fortress Machine Gun Battalion, (German unit) commanded by 1st Lieutenant Rinhold, which accounted for the accurate fire that fateful night.
 
It was often crossed my mind over the years, that if Bill hadn’t talked me out of going on that patrol, I could very well have been that soldier in that boat drifting down the river that night.
 
Source: Bulge Bugle February 2001

By John M. PAYNE

   

Company "F"

398th Engineer General

Service Regiment

 

Campaigns

Battle of the Bulge,

Belgium