Back in 1945, I was a young (age 23) American soldier, serving as the Reconnaissance Sergeant of a Heavy Weapons Company in The Army Of The United States (Company "H", 2nd Battalion, 274th Infantry Regiment, 70th Infantry Division. This unit was, at this particular time, still licking it's wounds after a particularly vicious fight with two German Battalions of their 12th S. S. Waffen Mountain Regiment, 6th Waffen S. S. Mountain Division at the small village of Wingen-Sur-Moder, in Lorraine Province, France. The location of this action and what follows was in the extreme northeast of France, easily within a half hour's drive of Saarbrucken, Germany.

One of my duties as Recon. Sergeant, when a move of the company was ordered, was to go ahead of the company to the next area of occupation, and in the event that we were to be billeted in houses or buildings, make the necessary arrangements, and also assign the platoons, squads, and other units to individual houses.

Such was the case when we were ordered to the village of Enchenberg, France, for a short period of rest for the company. (Actually we were to regroup, assign replacements for the missing men, and to prepare a defense position, in the event of a German counterattack in this area

Enchenberg was a quiet town, built like all the other small villages in this part of France. A large cathedral type Catholic Church with the houses clustered around the church. The village seemed to have been by-passed by the war, showing no apparent damage to the buildings. It was a relatively simple matter to arrange housing for the coming men. I simply moved about 10 men into each house on both sides of the house selected to be the C.P. (command post). The French people in each house had to provide the necessary room for the troops to roll out their sleeping blankets somewhere in the building.

The house where I would be billeted was on the main street which divided the small town into two areas. This house was located very near the company C. P. I later learned, that it was owned by Marc & Josephine Huber, a French father and mother of two children. The parents were approximately 40 years old, and their daughter, Adrienne was about 8 years old, and their son, Gilbert was about 6 years old. I slept on the floor in their pantry, just off the kitchen. After the first day or so we became used to each other and it became a habit to sit around the kitchen table in the evening, and attempt to communicate with each other. Neither Marc nor Josephine could speak, or read English, and I could not speak, or read French or German (In the Lorraine Province, most of the French were fluent in the latter two languages). It was comical and somewhat difficult to "talk" together but somehow we did pretty well at it. A strong bond was formed in the few days that our company remained in this village. So much so, that Josephine baked a special "apple kuchen" to celebrate my 24th birthday, which was on February 8th,1945. This "apple cake" was to be a surprise for me, but I was ordered to hurriedly leave Enchenberg on February 7th, on another quartering party. I did not get to taste the treat she had prepared. Before leaving Marc & Josephine's home, I wrote down their address in my little diary.

When I was ordered to leave Enchenberg early in the morning of February 8th, it was to proceed with all haste to the town of Diebling, France, a distance of about 30 miles, and passing through the city of Saareguemines, France. (Diebling was also approximately 20 miles south of Saarbrucken, Germany.) Here I was to make arrangements for the quartering of all "H" Company troops which were following.

The entire 274th Regiment was moving into an assembly area surrounding Diebling where our Field Artillery Battalions would join us. Until this time, we had been fighting without them because they had not accompanied us from the the States. All of the Artillery units had now arrived in France, and the 70th Division would hereafter be operating as a full Division, instead of three separate "Infantry Task Forces" which had been temporarly attached to other Divisions. This new move was to unite the full Division, and ready it for an pending attack against the German West Wall defenses at Saarbrucken.

Now let's jump ahead exactly 32 years in time:

During the next 32 years I kept track of the Marc Huber family in Enchenberg by sending Christmas cards and inclosing notes in them each year. They also did the same thing. Occasional letters were also written. The children grew up, were married, and had children of their own. Time passed!

In 1977, the 70th Infantry Division Association announced a "Back to Europe Tour" which was being organized through the Galaxy Tours. This trip, with our own personal extension of time, seemed to fill my long time dream of again returning to the area where I had been on my last "All Expense Paid Tour" which was given to me by my Uncle Sam. The new trip was a bit early for me. It was scheduled before I had actually retired from my job, but by hook and crook, my wife and I thought we could handle it.

There was sufficient time to make all the arrangements including the following: A personal letter was sent to Marc Huber by me informing him of our plans to return to France. In the letter I asked if we might stop by and say hello to them. By return mail, we received probably the nicest letter we have ever received. The Huber families' welcome was extended to us in this manner, "Dear Freddie, of course we will be most happy to have you as our guest. We will be waiting patiently for your arrival. We only ask that you tell us when you will arrive, and please say nothing about when you will leave. Your good friends, etc. etc.

This was a very nice letter, after the 32 years of separation!! We arranged to fly direct from Seattle, Washington to Frankfurt, Germany, and to join the tour group there. When the group tour was completed, we rented a car at the airport and moved into our two week extended stay. On the agreed date of arrival, Bert and I drove to Enchenberg from the Frankfurt airport, stopping once along the way at a small town named Bousbach, France. I wanted Bert to see this village since it had been our "jumping off place" when we launched our attack on Spichern Heights. On the main street of Bousbach was a small restaurant which we spotted from our rental car. A cup of coffee sounded good so we stopped, only to find that the restaurant was closed, as I tried to open the front door. Almost immediately a second story window was opened and a lady leaned out to inquire what we wanted in French, and then in German. I explained in what little German I knew, this sentence, "I was an American soldier in 1945 and I stayed here, and we wanted a cup of coffee" Her face lit up immediately and she added in haste, "One moment, one moment". I could hear her hurrying down the stairs calling to her husband at the same time. Quickly, they were at the front door, opening it for us. They invited Bert and I into the restaurant and despite the fact that the restaurant was not open for business, she went immediately to brew some coffee. Bert, being of German descent, and being raised in a family who spoke and understood German, did good in the conversation which followed with both of these very fine people. These good people were in their early 40's and ran the restaurant as a joint venture, with little hired help.

Soon we were surprised, as we sifted out what the man was trying to tell us as he talked with an ever increasing speed. He told us that in 1945, he was just a boy , living at home with his parents . The parents had very little food, due to the Germans and the war. He related how the American soldiers had given him food to take home to his parents many times. He had never forgotten those tough times and the help the American soldiers had given his family. Before the coffee was ready to be served, he had produced two bottles of wine and glasses for all four of us. Our quick stop for a cup of coffee turned into two hours of French gratitude. It was his way of saying how much he appreciated the help when it had been so necessary.

We were now running two hours late in reaching Enchenberg and Marc Huber's home. Instead of arriving in the late morning hours, we finally arrived late in the afternoon. And the worst part of this was that Marc had arranged for an interpreter to be at his home when we arrived. The interpreter was still there, but after a long three hour wait. We had spent a full week with the 70th veterans and had been wined and dined, as honored guests by several cities in eastern France. We then experienced the French gratitude at the restaurant in Bousbach, and all of it could not equal or exceed the next three days in Enchenberg.

First of all, there was much visiting with the able help of the interpreter. We covered many, many things which had slowly been stored up through the years. Marc and Josephine had their family over to get all of us together for a lovely meal. And again and again, Marc would say "My Freddie has come home." He watched me like a hawk, too. Every time I took a sip of wine from the goblet, before me, he would ask, "A little bit more, Freddie"? This, he said, as he was already refilling the glass. His granddaughter Chantal (the daughter of Adrienne and Roger) was watching Bert's glass with the same routine. Chantal had been learning English in her school classes and so could do the interpreting after the other one left for his home. She did a fine job for a young lady of 14 years.

When bedtime came, we were ushered to a new bedroom, upstairs. This room was not on the house in 1945. It was new, had brand new fancy wall paper on the walls, and a new bed and dresser. Most of this was done recently for our benefit. When the time came for us to move on, tears flowed freely, and we were deeply impressed with the gratitude that these people, and for that matter the whole family, showed.

General Orders - 274th Honor Roll