The Saar is Crossed!

It was dark and it was quiet that night of March 19. Too quiet. Orders that were customarily barked and yelled were now almost whispers. Soldiers were deep in silent thought as men always are before battle. Although they had fought and won in some of the bloodiest action since D-Day, the men of the 276th were facing new hazards on this March night. They would lead the Division by crossing the Saar River into the guns of the formidable 6th SS Mountain Division.

The men of the Bloody Axe Regiment-like all the Trailblazers-had learned to use the earth for protection and to read from it the threats of the enemy. They used even the slightest declivities as shelter against German fire and they recognized those ridges where the foe had observation and clear fields of fire. But crossing a river would be dangerously different. There would be no place to hide. They would be crowded into fragile rubber boats that could be sunk even by random bullets. And once in the water, even the strongest swimmer was doomed. Heavily laden with ammunition and hampered by helmet and weapon, they would be inevitable victims of the river.

Preparations in the dark evening had been as chaotic as war always is. Probing patrols from the 274th and 276th had taken heavy casualties all day. The 3rd Battalion of the Bloody Axe had been ordered to cross the Saar at Ottenhausen, a few miles upstream-to the west-of the heart of Saarbrucken. But the 274th had just taken the area; there was no room for two regiments to move towards tomorrow's assault. So the 276th was redirected a bit farther to the west at Hostenbach. Awaiting them were 56 inflatable boats, each meant to carry twelve men, crammed into the unwieldy craft. Four men paddled the craft. By 6 p.m. of the 19th, all the Regiment's anti-tank guns and cannon had been moved down as close as possible to the banks to give direct covering fire. Brave patrols from both Baker and Charlie Companies had made themselves shooting-gallery targets in order to draw enemy fire and pinpoint it's location. One Company B patrol lost six casualties on such a mission. But the Germans paid dearly too. As soon as enemy firing was located, Trailblazer mortars and artillery struck back fiercely. At 10 p.m. came the whispered, "This is it, men." Adrenalin rushed, breath shortened, mouths dried and pulses raced. But hours of practice paid off.

The men carried two of the awkward rafts down the steep bank and into the water, then squeezed themselves in. The tiny slap of paddles on the water seemed like sirens in the tomblike silence. The men knew the scenario: When the boats were in the deepest part of the stream, the Germans would turn of their blinding searchlights and open fire. The defenseless invaders, so crowded together, could hardly raise their M-1s. But the two boats advanced as quietly as possible. The only question was, "When will it come?" The two craft were past the midpoint of the river. When would the enemy open up? Would the enemy continue Hitler's D-Day tactics: Let them land and slaughter them on the beach? Would they take prisoners or mow down all the Americans? The silence grew more eerie and the men almost wished for the roar of the land battles. There at least you could see the enemy and retaliate. But this breathless silence that hid a dangerous, invisible foe gripped even the stoutest heart.

Now the German shore was only yards away. Although there seemed no longer need for silence-surely the enemy knew exactly where we were-the men jumped out cautiously. For the trap-where was it in the darkness?-must now be sprung at any moment. Seconds, minutes; they seemed like hours, and still the enemy lay silent in his ambush. Then the unbelievable had to be believed: The enemy was gone! Oh, they had left mines by the gross. Several exploded but no one was hurt. The Mine Platoon from the 276th Anti-Tank Company and men of the attached 270th engineers crossed quickly and cleared the minefield. This required cool heroism. For not only were the dread schu mines and anti-personnel mines lethal in themselves, many were additionally booby-trapped against their removal.

At 11 p.m. the 276th informed the neighboring 274th that its path was open. As March 20 clicked on the clock, the 274th was crossing at Ottenhausen, the originally planned crossing sight. The 275th, which had guarded the heights of Spicheren, cleared the whole area south of the river, including parts of Saarbrucken that lay there.

March 20 was a long, hard, draining day. Trailblazer units pursued the fleeing Germans north from the city. The whole division was now in Germany, treading on what had once been the streets of The Queen City, important in commerce, industry, manufacturing and symbolism. Now it was an incomprehensible desert of rubble. None of the Trailblazers had seen destruction as complete as this. In the area assigned to 1st Battalion of the 274th for a house to house check there wasn't a single building standing-not even a skeleton chimney or a remnant of a wall. On March 21 the 70th was placed in Seventh Army Reserve, ending 86 consecutive days on the line. Down the Metz Highway that the 275th had secured, over bridges thrown across by Trailblazer Engineers and through the ruins of Saarbrucken, the Seventh Army poured into Germany, eager for the final death blow that would end the obscenity of the Nazis' Third Reich. The 70th counted 1,724 prisoners-of-war that it had captured in March, most in the last two days.

Trailblazers had won another battle star on their Ardennes-Alsace campaign ribbon and an honored page in the history of the world's greatest war. The 70th's share of the price of freedom was 8,201 casualties, 755 of them killed in action.

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