LT. GLASS didn't let anyone salute him or in any way show he was an officer. He claimed Jerry tried to pick off the officers first. (Hell, Jerry tried to knock us all off.) So he wore a G.I. over- coat and carried a Garand M-1. A muffler was wound around his neck. He'd go and do anything his men would.

We watched as the Germans fought for the town (Philippsbourg) and as they were shelled off a hill across the valley from us. It was like watching a giant movie of the war, except shells would land near us from time to time.

"I still think I can hit that little Kraut guy cutting wood."

"Well, there's no one around to say no. So go ahead, but put your sights up all the way."

"There he comes," my buddy raised his rifle, took aim and as he fired, the Jerry threw up his arms and ran like hell for the house.

"Did I hit him?"

"Nah, but you scared hell out of him."

"Let's get out of here, they know we're here now."

But we couldn't get out. And if Jerry found us we'd just have to fight as best we could.

One of our men got back from our company CP and said that they were cut up and shot down when they tried to give up.

On the second morning, as I walked by a hole, there was a Jerry with his arms tied behind him with wire from the sound phone.

"What the hell are you doing tying up a POW? Those bastards don't need much of an excuse to kill us. But this would cook our goose if they found we'd done this to this prisoner!" The POW was untied.

"Thank you. Send me back to POW camp." The Jerry could speak a little English and was one of those who wanted to be done with war. He gave me a concussion grenade that looked like an egg which he had in his pocket, also a book with the names of our men wounded in the ambush January 1. This I took to Capt. Long.

"Stay the hell away from him, Martin; you're to go on patrol."

"Lt. Glass and Sgt. Duffy will go with you. If you can, make contact with our people."

I didn't want to go, but it seems that I was one of the few who didn't have trench foot, so I went. I was thinking hard of the pain in the stomach from no food and how hard it was to walk fast. So the voices of some Germans came as a shock. Down in the snow I go. There was a German observation post. One German with field glasses was running around a big rock, calling back corrections and targets for the other Krauts to radio back to their artillery. There were six Germans in all. Why they hadn't seen us, I'll never know.

As I was signaling Lt. Glass to go in from my right and Sgt. Duffy from the left, the one who was spotting looked right at me. With a yell I jumped up, firing the 45 M-3 and running towards the Germans. They all took off and four fell down the steep hill. The other two were running with 20-league boots as my magazine ran out of ammo. Reloading, we grabbed the maps, shot up the radio, took the machine guns and took off back to our company. Shells were starting to come in from both ways, to and from our lines.

Back with the company on the morning of the third day, like all the others, it was cold and it had snowed. But now there was a strange quiet. The men were not talking or joking as before. Most were weak from hunger and had frozen feet.

"Martin, the ol' man wants you."

HE'D HAVE TO WAIT till I switched my sox as I did each morning, taking the dry pair from inside my shirt and putting them next to my feet. The other two pair were rotated to the outside and outer pair went inside my shirts to dry. It didn't do much for the smell of one's clothes, but at least in the cold the stink wasn't as strong.

"Reporting as ordered, Captain."

"Why so formal, Martin?"

"Well, it's that you got all these other guys and you send me all the time."

"You're the only one with good feet now."

"Captain, you'll have my blood before this is over."

"Not you, you'll outlive us all."

"Yes, Sir."

Lt. Glass, Sgt. Duffy, a man from B Company and I went off to see if contact could be made with our men. It was to be my last walk in the snow.

We had almost reached the point of rocks where the OP was when the shells started to come in - real thick this time. I got in between the big rocks with Lt. Glass. Trees and branches were falling, the force of the shells pounded us into the ground. "Martin, Duffy's been hit."

There was Sgt. Duffy holding his leg and sitting up like all American soldiers seemed to do when they get hit. They figure it's over for them. They're out, now getting up to get out of the ballgame, that's when they get hit.

I had two burning sensations in my back, but it was just dirt or stones thrown by the shells.

"Martin, let's get him."

"Duffy! Lay Down! Hey, Duffy! Lay down."

"Let's go, Martin."

"Let him be, Lt. Glass."

"No, let's get him."

I started out as did Lt. Glass. A shell! Right on us! I tried to breathe and couldn't.How long I was out after the shell hit I don't know. But I joined in with Sgt. Duffy and Lt. Glass in screaming for a Medic. We couldn't find the man from B.

"This is it, I can't walk."

"Neither can I, Martin."

"Medic!"

"Hey! Medic, where the hell are you?"

Shells were still fading all around us, but like everyone else we had struck out, the war was over for us.

"I'm going to try to crawl this goddam mountain."

"Help will be here soon.'

Capt. Long, Lt. Turner, Lt. Cannon and most of the men came to get us. The captain made sure we were all taken care of and carried back to our company area.

"Put these men down by the CP."

"Dig slit trenches for them."

"Start a fire; goddam the Krauts." "If anybody has any coffee give it to the wounded men."

The Medic took good care of us. It was funny, but I felt very little pain. Mostly I was very sleepy. There were more shells dropping on our company area. The man who was watching me laid on top of me to protect me. This I will never forget although I do not remember his name.

Capt. Long took off his muffler and wrapped it around my left foot. I had no feeling and everyone was afraid my left foot would freeze.

At last I fell asleep, no dreams of food or home or anything. Soon someone was shaking me, "Martin, can you get on this stretcher? We've been found."

THE STRETCHER was made from two poles and two GI overcoats. I lay on my stomach. The four men carrying me were weak and tired, too, and had to rest often in the deep dark. We went through the lanes of the men who found us. About half way down the mountain they stopped to rest, setting the stretcher down on a tree stump. It hit my stomach and sort of had me draped head down, rump up.

"Hey, guys, look what you done to me now." After they all took a look, making remarks and laughing, they put me down.

"Put the stretchers here, men."

"You'll be okay till we get a truck or jeep."

God! It was a black night! You could smell the burnt powder, burnt buildings and death.

"Don't light any cigarettes; Jerry's all around us."

There was other small talk and a moan or two, but mostly we all were thinking it was all over, feeling guilty about leaving our buddies to fight, and the miserable life of a combat GI. But glad it was over for us.

"Get those men on the jeep."

They put me on the front hood rack and Capt. Long stood on the bumper and leaned back against me. We hadn't gone far when,

"Hold it! There's something on the road."

Getting down he moves something from the road.

"Dammit those Frenchies, we clean a road of mines and they put 'em back." Capt. Long throws the mine off the side of the road.

"Let's go, driver."

The jeep stopped by a building. Men started to take the stretchers into the Aid Station.

"Here, Lt. Cannon, take this knife; maybe it will come in handy again for you."

"Thanks again, Captain, for the use of the muffler."

"So long, Martin."