As we approached in the evening, we moved through a heavy enemy mortar barrage. My squad was held up in view of a building, as the squad in front of us had a casualty. One of John Ferrera's men had a shrapnel wound in the leg.

By counting the interval between rounds, we were able to get our squad across the open ground at the chateau without incident. It was one of those moments that every Infantryman has experienced and remembers. We moved quickly out to the left, North, and were deployed in an area that had been a line of trenches in the war of our fathers some 28 years before.

There were a number of old holes, quite washed in, with mounds of excavated earth, recognizable more by their pattern than the depth.

With no knowledge of the "big picture," as usual, we broke out our entrenching tools and went to work on our positions. Bill Simon and Lou Klettlinger duo in our cun a few feet to my right front. Further to the right was a 57mm anti-tank (run on the near side of a trail which led down the hill, and is clearly seen on aerial recon photos of that day. Not at the moment on the scene, and probably seeing to their duties setting up the defenses nearby were Lt. Jim St. Clair and Section Leader Sgt. Anthony Van de Wege. (I have found Jim St. Clair to be deceased.) Van de Wege was later to be an arm's length to my left, while St. Clair would be farther left and behind him. Farther out to the left was Ferrera's Squad with Fred Wise, Sam Brown and Russell Garness. (All of those men have been found, since the war.)

We looked like we knew what we were doing. I saw a bazooka gunner with the tube looking for his buddy with the ammo. I had seen the ammo bearer earlier in the day but could be of no help at this time.

What we didn't know, was that quite some distance down the trail covered by the anti-tank gun, was a large number of men of one of our rifle companies deployed at an anti-tank ditch. A study of the aerial photos shows that to be about two thirds of the way down to the road which runs along the West side of the Saar River.

Around about dusk, all hell broke loose. A German tank, with a large number of ground troops in support, had come up the trail from the river road. The GIs at the ditch were sitting ducks with no anti-tank weapons. There was a lot of gunfire and hollering. As darkness approached so did a surviving BAR man from the battle below. It was from him that I got the details. Since neither St. Clair or Van de Wege were involved in this encounter, I have to believe they both joined us some time later.

This BAR man was leaving and I could not met him to join us. He asked if I thought he would be court-martialed as a deserter, and I wanted him to leave his BAR with us. I have often thought I should have forced the issue, but I wanted him out of there and myself down and I have to hope he rejoined the battle later on.

Soon darkness was upon us and a squeaky unlubricated tank was approaching. As it came into point blank range of the anti-tank gun, they fired. One of the first shots damaged the right track, that closest to our position. Although this cut down the mobility of the tank, it initiated a duel which lasted throughout most of the night. I later shared a "head ward" in the hospital with a survivor from this gun and learned about their part in the battle. They had gradually lost all their men. They had gone back to their truck and brought up all their ammo, and as dawn approached, my fellow patient was down to his rifle. Two Krauts crossed the road in front of him and as he reached around the shield to fire at them, a sniper hit him a glancing blow at the chin. Outgunned, they had fought to the last round and to the last man!

During lulls in this duel, I could hear the enemy working to repair the track. Having served in Mechanized Cavalry previous to the 70th Infantry, I've worked on a few tracks myself. Now only 40 or 50 feet away, I recognized the sounds of the wrenches as they labored to make repairs.

I could not believe that we were just sitting there. At some time before, as all this was shaping up, I had gone a few feet back to St. Clair to see what he wanted to do. I had a lot of respect for him, and thought he would be ready to open up with everything we had. I'll never forget his last order to me. "Lay low 'till daylight." I went forward to my machine gun, covered it with our only blanket and told them, "St. Clair says lay low 'till daylight."

In the vicinity many other events were unfolding which have been written about by others. In trying to fit their pieces together to form the true picture, I can only speculate as to the time line, or when and how the various pieces fit.

Van de Wege writes about his experiences as do Kern Dibble, Lawrence Southard and Cal Sorensen. Van de Wege simplifies and condenses: "We moved up with the riflemen and dug in for the night." He also tells that he was about 100 yards, I believe that is supposed to be feet, away at this fatal encounter described by Sorensen in his book. I, Sorensen was in the advance assault Feb. 22 on Spicheren Heights in the D Co. area, South about 150 yards in trench and bunker fighting. Maj. Cahoon, in intense artillery shelling, came up on my rear, crouched to talk to me and was killed on the spot by a sniper. He fell over on my body. I and Willy Williams evacuated his body under fire to the chateau. This must have happened in the morning daylight as Van de Wege saw it at quite some distance. Van de Wege tells of his going, "back to Battalion HQ, reporting to Maj. Cahoon, who planned to join us in the morning with reinforcements."

Ferrera tells of a member of his section being wounded. (I think this was Fred Wise, whom we have found). As Ferrera and his gunner Russell Garness attempted to evacuate the wounded man to safer ground, both were wounded, Garness, shot through the left eye. I met him a few days later in the evac hospital.

After our 57mm anti-tank gun ceased fire, we could still hear German voices, and wrenches at work. Suddenly, about halfway between my position and the disabled tank, a GI light machine gun opened up, firing in the direction of the tank. Almost immediately our noble gunner, Lt. Robert H. McDaniel was hit by panzerfaust, and could be seen in the dark forest illuminated by the blast.

As the night wore on, I tried to work on our hole quietly, as we waited for daylight. I became aware of something moving close by. A German scout had made his way up to the position where Van de Wege and I were only a yard apart. In the midst of all this commotion he had managed to get a few feet in front of us before we detected something, moving. As I reached out with my left hand to alert Van de Wege, he was bringing his rifle to bear and in the multiple muzzle flash we could see a prone Kraut, at arm's length from us.

My ammo bearer, George Zumpkley, had requisitioned from the chateau one spring cushion, red, which we fitted into our muddy foxhole, giving us the ultimate in comfort even if we had very inadequate cover which was barely a few sticks, some ration boxes and a little dirt.

Some time before daylight, maybe around 4 a.m., I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. I decided my buddy had had enough sleep, so I reached in and pulled George off the cushion, placed his hands on the grenades which I had handy on the edge of the hole. After informing him of the dead Kraut inches from his face, I lay down on our innerspring foxhole. It had taken about 53 days but we finally had one of these. I was trying to get some sleep when the tank hand-cranked in squeaky traverse toward our position illuminated by the German scout, at the cost of his life. They put a round into the large tree overhead and in the shrapnel shower which covered our area, I was hit, and backed out of the hole to get aid. Van de Wege tied me up and when the litter team arrived to get my ammo bearer Davis, I left with them.

Some time during the night many of the surviving men along the line were withdrawn. The withdrawal orders did not reach everybody.

At dawn the remaining HMG crews opened up and finished off the Germans who were left, and were subsequently awarded the Silver Star Medal.