Replacements

We were replacements sent to the front to fill the holes in the 70th's ranks caused by Nordwind's fury. We were mostly country boys from Virginia, North and South Carolina and Pennsylvania. Most of us were 18 or 19, but a few appeared to be in the 35-year draft bracket.

We trained at Camp Croft, South Carolina, uphill and downhill-day and night-since they had cut two weeks off the normal cycle. During our final days of field training Gen. George Marshall visited our area - easily distinguished by his trenchcoat, combat boots and absolute attention to what was going on. I do not think I have ever seen a man who looked more like a general officer than he did - ramrod bearing, behavior and unmistakable purpose and determination. I am glad he was on our side.

(Ed note: On completion of their abbreviated Basic, the group went to the Port of New York and boarded the great Isle de France.)

As we sailed up the west coast of England, a line of British destroyers formed an escort screen. We sailed into the Firth of Clyde, Scotland, past my ancestors home of Isle of Bute. We disembarked and dragged our duffel bags into a waiting train, non-stop to Southhampton. There in the moonlight, hundreds of men hurried aboard a British destroyer which took us to France. Mercifully the trip was short, but the great adventure was going over the side of the ship and down a heavy rope ladder to the landing craft below which was heaving up and down with the waves. Here we learned that they didn't cover everything in Basic.

From Le Harve we went on to Nancy and the Seventh Army Replacement Depot where we were herded into what appeared to be a factory with a moat of water over which the latrines were built.

At Nancy we were issued the magnificent Rifle Cal .30 M 1. Our factory-new rifles came to us in a plastic bag packed solid with cosmoline. Cleaning that puppy was a big part of one day. We were loaded onto 2 1/2 ton trucks, and headed North where they were making men out of boys.

Nearer the front, we saw greasy black smoke of burning tanks, dead horses from German wagon columns and nameless burning small towns. The trucks pulled to stop at Oeting; we could hear artillery and other fire raging over the hill at Forbach.

An NCO got our attention and instructed us to change into the clothes we had in our duffel bags, and turn in the leftovers along with the gas masks. Next he directed us to take a couple of grenades, and two bandoleers of M 1 ammunition and "Leave them grenade cotter pins alone!!! Take your M 1 up that draw and fire it to be sure it's working OK."

Somewhere on a nearby ridge, Col. Albert Morgan, CO of the 276th, addressed our "packet" with the admonishment against throwing away equipment or clothing. Because, he said, when "The snow is ass-deep to tall giraffe, you'll need it ... " He also told the story of a scout who lost his grenade launching attachment, and when his unit came under fire from an MG 42, he couldn't launch a grenade to kill the gunner.

We were loaded into the trucks again and were shown how fast a truck can accelerate before hitting the crest of an artillery-fire hill - those Quartermaster truckers knew what happened to slow careless drivers.

Our truck roared up to the Battalion Aid Station and let us off - double-time. We were told that we would be assigned to carrying parties at first, assisting the Ammunition and Pioneer platoon carrying ammunition, water and rations up into the lines. After we would get used to incoming rockets, artillery, mortar and small-arms fire, we would be assigned to a permanent unit.

Another Replacement named Olney and I were in a carrying party at night, hauling ammo and water up to a rifle company - our first trip up that hill. The Sad Sack who was leading us in pitch darkness - hand on the belt of the man in front - got lost, missed a turn and led us up the hill the way the Germans would have. Our own people fired on us and Sad Sack screamed "Kamerad" thinking he had hit German lines. He and the rest of our fearless leaders came back down the hill like a herd of rampant alligators. Two flares were fired, and I thought they would never go out. But I saw Olney beside me. I told him I had a grenade ready and if they opened up again, I would throw it and we would take off down the hill toward the searchlights that shone behind our lines.

We finally backed down the trail like snakes and headed back toward Forbach. God must have had something else for us to do because He led us past "shu mines", snipers, perimeter riflemen, random mortar fire and Lord knows what else. We came down the hill to a house where we were - fortunately -challenged and welcomed. The following day we were routed back to HQ for further assignment. This is an example of how a couple of replacements came close to being killed - not through their lack of training, but through the dereliction of duty of an NCO of the Ammunition and Pioneer Platoon. Fortunately I do not know his name.

I had a number of close calls from rockets, artillery and deadly mortar fire, but as each day passed I got more "street smarts" about the battlefield. There was considerable improvement in NCOs and fellow riflemen. I have always felt that the German soldier is the hardest disciplined toughest bunch of killers the U.S. Army has ever fought; he damn near won that war. Our victory was the finest American victory - any century, any war.

Related Items

Awards || Documents