Kenneth James Europe, U. S. Army
70th Infantry Division
274th Regiment, 2nd Battalion, Company E

I was raised on a farm in Arkansas and was drafted into the United States Army in early 1943, at the age of nineteen. I was sent to Camp Robinson, Arkansas, and then to Camp Fannin, Tyler, Texas. I was one of the first to arrive at Camp Fannin for basic training, after which I was held over as Cadre until late 1944, when I joined the 70th Infantry Division at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. We immediately shipped out for the city of Marseille, France, where we disembarked and were trucked out to a tent city which was on a hill overlooking Marseille.

Two days later, we loaded on 40 and 8s (unheated trains) and proceeded to Avignon, St. John Rambert, Lyon, Dijon, and Epinal arriving in Brumath, where we went into combat. Once on the line, we were in combat continually for the next ninetysix days, at which time we were placed in reserve.

On Christmas Day near Brumath, in an old school building, I had just settled down and opened my can of cold C-rations beans when the entire end of the schoolhouse disintegrated. At that time, my crew and I withdrew to the nearest village, which was about three kilometers back. We received heavy artillery fire for the next several hours. I do not need to tell you, no one got much sleep that night. We then pushed on to Bischwiller, Herrlisheim; and finally, east to Offendorf, on the Rhine River.

By January 20, 1945, we were up to Dambach, manning old fortifications of the Maginot Line.

One of our bloodiest battles was at Phillipsburg. One of my buddies was wounded there. At this time, I might add, I had no contact with any of the men from my combat division from war's end until about ten years ago when I joined the 70th Division Association. Then I started corresponding with a few of them, and after several letters were exchanged between James Cummins and me, we realized that I had evacuated him to the aid station when he was wounded. I believe this was near Phillipsburg. He told me later the date was January 9, 1945, my twentieth birthday. Needless to say, my birthday was not celebrated.

Shortly after this, one of our jeep drivers and I were driving along; he had a burp gun and was firing at objects along the road. After another 100 to 200 yards, it fired and the bullet caught him in the right hip, lodging in his knee. At that time, I had to take him to the same aid station where I had taken James for evacuation. The doctor started to examine him and cut the leg of his coverall. He raised hell and told the doctor that those coveralls were stateside starched and ironed, and he had just got them from a new lieutenant who had been killed. When I left, he was still complaining about his coveralls. By the way, James Cummins is a minister in a small town in Indiana today. We have not been able to visit except through letters but are still hoping to be able to meet in person someday.

Anyway, back to the story. We fought on through Forbach in Spicheren Hights, an area overlooking Saarbrucken. My company continued to fight on through Behren, at which time our division headquarters were in Morhange. The winter of 1944 and 1945 was one of the coldest on record in Europe. Our coldweather casualties were very high.

We were involved in fights in Etzling, Pfaffenberg, Kerbach, Spicheren, Alsting-Zinzing; and the the Kreutzberg Ridge and Spicheren Heights. Then we gained control of the very impor-tant Black Forest. During the battle of Forbach and in trying to take Stiring-Wendel, we were on the ridges for thirteen days. We were fighting from foxholes and trenches, and during this time, we lost eleven of our men from sniper fire. We finally realized that the Germans were pulling shifts on us. Every time a German soldier would be killed, he would be clean-shaven and have clean clothes. When we realized what was happening, we ambushed the patrol and liberated Stiring Wendel, that same day.

Then it was on to Schoneck and the fortification of the German Siegfried line. March 1945, we crossed the Saar River in Saarbrucken. Another buddy, who is now a gynecologist in Syracuse, New York, was wounded by a German mortar shell near the town of Schoneck, France, just five days after his nineteenth birthday. He was evacuated to a military hospital in Dijon, France.

At one point during combat, we had liberated a railroad station in France, and the Germans were trying to take it back. We were fighting in the streets at night, and a bullet creased my steel pot. I guess that was my closest call. On another occasion, a buddy and I had holed up in a French home for the night. Late that afternoon, we were in the front yard, watching our artillery fire on some German gun placement nearby, and watching our bombers flying over head returning to England, after having bombed targets that day.

All of a sudden, we heard a German screaming meemie (a German artillery 88 shell) coming in. We made a run for the front door but didn't make it. The good Lord must have been watching us, because it was a dud. It dug a horseshoe and buried up in the front yard. These were the two closest calls I had during my combat.

The 70th Division had pushed across the Saar River to Saarbrucken with the goal of meeting the United States 3rd Division at Bildstick, Germany.

On March 21, 1945, the 70th Division was taken off active duty combat and put in the "reserves," after eighty-six consecutive days, having liberated 58 towns, suffered 835 killed (KIA), 2,713 wounded, 397 taken prisoner of war (POW), and 54 missing in action (MIA).

When the war ended, my company was in Wiesbaden, Germany. From there, I was transferred to Bad Hersfeld, Germany, of the 7th Infantry Regiment of the 3rd Division. In October 1945, 1 enlisted in the Regular Army and continued on active duty until August l, 1968.