The 17th of June, 1944 - D + 11, The New Guys

US Army Photo

"So what happened out there Jack?"

"Well, we were patrolling towards the crossroads, scoping things out, it was pretty quiet, then I hear something in the field to our left. We hold, I'm listening, there's people out there, talking, in low voices, but still, you can hear 'em."

"Is that when Fred told you they were Krauts?"

"Yeah, then up towards the crossroads, some Kraut yelled something. Sounded like a challenge, that's when Fred yells out, pardon my French Bill, 'f**k you' - I mean I could tell the Krauts out in the field were startled. So was I. But the Krauts near the crossroads opened up on the guys out in the field. Guess they thought they were Americans."

"Damn. Okay, get some sleep, you're going out in a couple of hours, we're taking the whole squad. There's Krauts to clear between here and the crossroads past where you guys were last night. We need to probe, see what's between us and them."

Some miles away, near Caen, another group of soldiers were trying to figure out what had happened to them.

"A machine gun opened fire, basically killing most of your infantry, and your gunner?"

"Jawohl, Hauptsturmführer. The Tommies were much closer than our intel reported."

"Did you actually see the English?"

"Yes, right after my bow gunner slid into place to act as loader, I saw movement to my front. I just got a glimpse of them, but they were Tommies. That ridiculous helmet they wear is hard to miss."

"Show me on the map."

Gefreiter Johannes Klepper and Flieger Martin Bendfeldt were now part of 2nd squad in the 1st platoon. Their old platoon was too shattered to reconstitute, at least until they received replacements. The odds of getting replacements here were slim to none his sergeant had told him. So they closed ranks again, soon there would be no one left.

"Johannes!" Oberfeldwebel Dieter Schmitz called to him, waving him over to the rapidly dwindling company command group. Just three sergeants and one officer were left.

"You've got 2nd squad, we're moving Holstein over to lead 2nd platoon. You good with that?"

"Sure, not like I have a choice, stimmt¹?"

"Exactly lad, you understand perfectly."

Sergeant James Fitzhugh and his crew in their Sherman VC were still positioned near where they had encountered the Panther covered with infantry. His infantry were positioned in such a way that the Germans couldn't surprise them. Fitzhugh knew that Caen was not going to fall to the British Army by lying in ambush, but the generals were still trying to sort things out. Seems they were up against as many as three Jerry panzer divisions. Oh joy, he thought to himself.

Corporal Billy Wallace, the wee Scotsman leading the squad covering his vehicle, had investigated where the Germans had gone down. When he'd reported back, Fitzhugh wasn't all that happy.

"Och aye, those were SS bastards we killed. Got the runes on their tunics and everything. Young looking bunch, though they won't be getting any older now, will they?"

Rumors were already spreading that the SS were not taking prisoners. The Canadians had found some of their lads who had been executed, the Canadians were not in a forgiving mood from what he'd been told. Wonderful, SS fanatics who think we're not taking prisoners. What an ugly bloody war. Africa had been nothing like this. A cleaner war in some respects, Rommel's lads seemed to be decent sorts, damned fine soldiers as well. But these SS bastards, he didn't care for them. Not at all.

They were back at full strength in 3rd squad. Sgt Brandt's promotion was official and someone had actually scrounged some stripes for him. Pvt Melvin Katz, who had been a tailor's apprentice before the war, sewed the stripes on for Sgt Brandt. Katz was another new guy, along with Privates Alfred Esposito, Jackson Hebert, and Charlie Monroe.

Other than Brandt and Corporal Jack Wilson (whose promotion was also official but no one had the stripes nor knew where they could get some, so the L. T. just inked them in again) the only two guys who had come ashore in the squad on D-Day were Privates Fred Thomas and Woodrow "Woody" Simpson.

Bill Brandt was nervous about taking the new guys into combat, but they had to learn sometime, apparently sometime was now. He looked up as SSG Andersen came over.

"What's up Sarge?"

"I want you to take your guys down along that track Wilson went down a couple of days ago. We had a patrol out that way yesterday, looks like the Krauts pulled back a ways. They left their dead behind. S2 thinks that the Kraut paras are low on bodies, so maybe they had to skedaddle without evacuating their casualties. I dunno. So, look here on the map..."

SSG Andersen briefed them to probe past the crossroads of the other day, which all the guys were now calling "F**k You" crossroads and see what the Germans had in the next field over.

"Alright Sarge, but I tell you, I'm going to be pretty careful, we've got six new guys in the squad."

"I know Bill, no one expects you to go in guns blazing. But the Skipper would like a prisoner to chat with, know what I mean?"

"Yup, we'll do what we can."

Klepper and Bendfeldt were in a new position, they'd lost their MG-42, but they still had one of the FG-42s, which Bendfeldt carried, and Klepper had his MP-40.

Fallschirmjäger with FG-42, left, and MP-40, right.
Bundesarchiv

They were by themselves for the moment, the rest of the squad were farther back, trying to get some sleep. Both Klepper and Bendfeldt were exhausted, Johannes could barely keep his eyes open.

"Get some sleep, I'll keep an eye on things." Bendfeldt urged his corporal.

Klepper mumbled something, then slid lower in the hole they had scraped out of the dirt. He was almost immediately asleep.

Bendfeldt struggled to stay awake, he kept nodding off, but only for a few moments before he jerked his head up once more.

"What do you think Jack, grenade?"

"Pretty noisy Sarn't Bill, I know there's other Krauts around, I can smell 'em." Jack Wilson was watching the young Kraut, he kept nodding off.

"Let's wait, I'm betting he's going to fall asleep."

So they waited.

Brandt whispered to the guys near him, "Fix bayonets, no shooting."

Bendfeldt couldn't help it, his head dropped to his chest and soon he was fast asleep. He didn't hear or see the Americans until he and Johannes had been relieved of their weapons and both men had bayonets pressed against their chests.

One of the Americans, his rifle pointed at Bendfeldt's face said "Bleib ruhig oder du bist tot.²" So both Germans remained frozen until the Amis yanked them to their feet and rushed them back towards the American lines.

Brandt's patrol brought in two prisoners, both paratroopers. The L. T. was very happy, as he knew that Brandt's efforts made the whole platoon look good, which, of course, made the L. T. look good.

As the guys went back to their bivouac, Sgt Brandt said, "Frenchy, I think now's a good time for some of that applejack."

"Certainement mon sergent, a fine idea!"

Then Sergeant Brandt turned to Pvt Katz, "So you can sew and you speak Kraut?"

"My folks emigrated from Vienna in 1936, they didn't like the way things were going with the Germans to the north, a lot of Austrians leaned that way as well. So at home we spoke Yiddish, but my parents also spoke German. I learned both."

"So your parents don't like the Nazis?" Pvt Tremblay asked.

"No, they don't. I don't know many Jews who like Nazis. In fact, zero."

Sergeant Brandt just nodded his head. His squad had some real characters in it, he hoped he could keep them all alive.




¹ Right?
² Stay quiet or you're dead.