The following account was written by Wellstood Tipton (G/276) and appeared in the Winter, 1996 issue of the Trailblazer, pp16-17.

I joined the company as a replacement in late January, 1945 at a small French village of Folking. A first sergeant and the company commander welcomed 10 or 12 of us as we unloaded from a 6 by 6 truck. Assigned to the 3rd platoon, I met my squad members and found some bunk space in an old building. There were bales of straw in front of the windows, so I assumed it was a barn.

After two or three days of doing little, I was put on patrol duty with five or six men who were led by a buck sergeant. We were to see if there was any enemy activity in the area and, if possible, capture some Germans and bring them in for interrogation. It was cold and cloudy, and after two or three hours, we had not seen or heard any enemy activity, although we could hear machine-gun fire in the distance. We were challenged, however, by a patrol from another company on the way back to the CP. It was a tense moment but since our patrol leader gave the password "Vino", no shots were fired. Not very original, but effective in this case.

On Sunday, we went to an outdoor church service conducted by a chaplain who rode up in a jeep with a cross painted on its hood. The jeep driver, a corporal, also played the organ, which he carried in the back of the jeep in a small trunk. The chaplain's son had been killed in action the week before and the Company commander suggested that it would be a nice gesture of respect and support to have a good turn out for the service. The corporal played "The Old Rugged Cross" and "Onward Christian Soldiers" plus a couple of other favorite hymns. The quality of music he could put out of that small box was amazing. After the service, every man shook hands with the Chaplain and offered our condolences. It was a very emotional moment for all of us.

Monday afternoon, Feb. 5, we were told that at 6 a.m., next morning, we were to raid the village of Oeting, capture or kill the Germans there, and set up a base to attack Forbach. Intelligence reports indicated that few Germans were there. We could expect light resistance and should take the town by nightfall. As it turned out intelligence was very wrong.

That evening, we were issued two bandoliers of ammo and two hand grenades. However, since I was made ant-tank grenadier, I was given three hand grenades, three anti-tank grenades, a grenade launcher, six cartridges, plus two bandoliers of 30- calibre ammo. In other words, I was a walking ammo dump. The reason I was made grenadier was because in basic training. I had fired it just once, but that was enough to qualify me.

About midnight, we marched in single file several miles to an assembly area at the bottom of a steep hill, where we waited for a few hours for all the troops to get into position. At approximately 6:30 a.m., our artillery began to shell the German positions outside Oeting. It was very foggy, so we all wore white armbands for identification. After our artillery barrage was lifted, we started up the hill where we were met with heavy rifle and machine-gun fire. Running crouched and firing as we went, it took all morning for us to get up to the crest of the hill.

The hill was mined with anti-personnel and bouncing betty mines which also caused some casualties. Over the crest was a long line of trenches which were 3 or 4 feet deep with several inches of mud, water and snow. Our platoon made it into the trenches about noon, where we took up positions to return fire to the enemy. A German sniper had zeroed in on us with a burp gun. He killed one soldier, a replacement, immediately and wounded several others.

We returned fire as best we could with our rifles, which kept jamming because of the mud. We had a machine gunner with us from the Weapons Platoon, Robert Weeks. He laid down bursts of fire which helped subdue the snipers. The Germans brought in some mortars and finally took him out of action in the late afternoon. At nightfall, there were 10 or 12 of us still in that trench at the top of the hill. The company runner came up to us shortly after dark: We were to "dig in" and hold positions in anticipation of a German counterattack in the morning. This time, Intelligence was right. Just before daylight, there was a heavy shelling of all positions along the line of trenches. After 15 or 20 minutes, the barrage lifted and was followed by German riflemen. They made an awesome sight with their steel helmets and great coats, firing as they came out in the early dawn and smoke. However, we were ready for them and put out a lot of firepower with our M-1s and Weeks' machine gun.

A replacement named John Stanton fed the ammo belt into the machine gun for Weeks. It kept jamming because of the mud and snow. Nevertheless, between Weeks and our riflemen, we raked the Germans pretty good. As a matter of fact, we dropped some of them "dead in their tracks."

The counterattack stopped when the Germans took cover in another trench, down the hill about 200 yards from us. We traded shots back and forth all morning and that afternoon. Our squad leader, Sgt. Griffith, suggested I fire several of my anti-tank grenades to give the impression that they were being shelled. The first one did not explode because it ricocheted off the snow. The second one, fired at a higher angle, did go off. It hit right behind their trench and made a terrific explosion like an artillery shell. Then Griffith told me to fire some hand grenades, which went off three or four feet above the trench and had the effect of artillery time fire. After the second shot, there was a lot of yelling and screaming. We saw a medic moving in and out of the trench. After a few minutes, he came running toward us with his hands high in the air. He was wearing a full size bib with a large red cross in the center, front and back. When he got to the edge of our trench, he said in broken English that he needed medicine for some of his men who were badly wounded. Griffith or Weeks (I don't remember which one) told him we did not have any medicine and we would have to take him prisoner. He started screaming, protesting in German and English, about the Red Cross and the Geneva Convention and whatever. We took him prisoner anyway, because Griffith said that if he went back to his men and told them that there were only a few of us, they might call artillery in and try to overrun us in another counterattack.

Later that night, we received orders to withdraw, several at a time. Stanton and I were left to guard the left flank while several other men were left guarding the right flank. After midnight, a runner came up to our position and told us to come back, too. However, by that time, it was difficult for us to walk and the four or five of us had a hard time making it back to HQ in the village. The Company medic, "Doc" Tirella, said we had frozen feet. He took our shoes and socks off and put us all in a cold room in a farmhouse. When we complained about the cold, he said that frozen feet had to be thawed out slowly and that if the room were heated it would be much more painful.

The next day, we were loaded into stretchers-none of us could walk at all by then-and taken to an evacuation hospital. From there, to Paris and then to England for convalescence and rehabilitation.

I rejoined G Company three months later, after the war was over, somewhere in southern Germany. I stayed with the Company, trained for the invasion of Japan until VE day, and then was transferred to the 29th Infantry Regiment at SHAEF Headquarters in Frankfurt, Germany.

In 1990, Ed McMahon of E Company gave me a copy of an official army history of the "Raid at Oeting". It stated in part, "the strength of the blow shifted to Co. G's area where enemy tanks and infantry struck vigorously. This counterattack was also broken up. Although heavy losses were sustained, the gallantry and heroism of the troops were responsible for our ability to hold our ground." I had always felt that we had fought bravely and acquitted ourselves well in combat; however, it was nice to know that the U.S. Army thought so, too. Even if it was 45 years later.

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