Chance Encounter

Bundesarchiv

Unteroffizier Manfred Sauer looked at the new men in his platoon, the average age was seventeen. He shook his head, then remembered the things he had seen during his group's journey across northern France after the disaster of the Falaise Cauldron. He and six other men had been all that remained of the 5th Company, 2nd Battalion, 983rd Grenadier Regiment of the 275th Infantry Division. He had been a simple Grenadier then, now he was an Unteroffizier, leading his own platoon.

He had been promoted in the field by the very man briefing them, Leutnant, now Hauptmann, Jürgen von Lüttwitz. He had once commanded the very platoon Sauer led now. The division was being rebuilt once again, for the second time, von Lüttwitz now commanded the 5th Company whose remnants he had led back to the German lines. For that feat he had been awarded the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross.

"So lads, it's a simple patrol to give you fellows some combat experience. We move out at first light, patrol to this village here," he pointed to his map as he said this, "and then back to our own lines in time for supper. Klar?¹"

The platoon leaders all nodded, then went to brief their men.

"Hold up a minute Manfred." The captain hadn't had the chance to congratulate Sauer on his ascent to the command of 1st Platoon. "How are you settling in?"

"The lads are all pretty keen, many of them were in the Hitler Youth so at least they know one end of a rifle from the other. I'm just concerned that they're not getting enough to eat. They might look like soldiers, but they're still growing boys." Sauer shook his head as he said that, he was starting to sound like his old sergeant. Must be the responsibility, he thought, which made one so serious, so soon.

"Keep an eye on them, the Amis are out there in force, I've been briefed that their casualties have been surprisingly heavy in their advance across France, the intelligence boys say that there are a large proportion of new recruits in the unit across from us, and that their line is thinly held as they're trying to get their men trained up." While the captain had been told that the information was classified as secret, he wanted his own platoon leaders to know the opposition.

"Rookies fighting rookies. At least their men seem well-fed, the boys I've seen on the other side of the line seem to eat pretty well." Sauer's belly rumbled as he said that, they were always hungry these days.

"Ah Manfred, it's getting colder and they're all wearing overcoats, those coats make you look fat."

"Grrr, our overcoats just make our boys look small!"

(Source)

1Lt Paddock looked at Sgt Wilson and said, "Nope, let it rest Jack. I'm sending out Jenkins' squad on this patrol. You guys have been busting your asses for a couple of weeks, let his guys have this one. He has some replacements who need the experience."

"L.T., they're not ready for this. At least go out in platoon strength, not a single squad." Sgt Jack Wilson had a bad feeling about this patrol. But battalion was adamant about getting another prisoner or two. The advance on Aachen was coming soon, the higher ups wanted - no, needed - to know what was between the division and the German city.

"I know Jack, but the captain expressly ordered that I not send you guys, he wants to give you all a rest, short as it is, but there ya go. It's orders man, nothing we can do but soldier on." Paddock was tempted to go out with Jenkins' squad but Captain Josephson had forbidden that as well.

"Let Jenkins earn his pay Nate. He's a good man, good instincts. I know he's got a number of rookies in his squad, but they need to learn. Now go, get it done."

All Paddock could do was obey, he saw the captain's point, he had to let the new men sink or swim. But he didn't have to like it.

"You, Rothenberg, keep your interval. Bunching up attracts fire, why waste ammunition on a single man when the Amis can shoot the lot of you all at once. Spread out Jungs!²"

Unteroffizier Sauer was having trouble keeping his temper, a lack of sleep, lack of proper food, and the responsibility of trying to keep these young kids alive long enough to be useful to the Fatherland was taking every ounce of his patience.

"Herr Unteroffizier," one of his youngest men shouted out, "are those our men over there?" The lad was pointing across the meadow to where the forest closed in again.

Sauer looked in that direction and immediately bellowed, "Take cover! Americans!"

At that point, all Hell broke loose.

"Hey look Sarge, I think those are Krauts." Pvt John Baskevich, 18, of Canton, Ohio, was pointing across the small field to their front at a party of men coming out of the forest. That small party was the advance party of a German infantry company. Though much reduced, they still outnumbered the American squad by nearly ten to one. Sgt Greg Jenkins couldn't believe they had just stumbled into the Krauts like this, his guys were so green.

"Down, down, down, take cover!!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, but it was too late. Only by a few seconds, but still too late to save nearly half of his squad.

Sauer's MG 42 section had set up in an instant and were laying down fire on the stunned Americans. It was the only thing which saved his lads from getting chopped up. The Americans had taken casualties, but they were responding with accurate and rapid rifle fire. Sauer also knew that he had to maneuver and fast. The odds were good that the Americans would be calling in support fire from either mortars or artillery as quick as they could.

"Sarge, Crawford is dead, so are Adams and Jones."

"F**k that for now Smitty, I need the f**king radio." As Sgt Jenkins said that, he emptied his rifle in the direction of the Germans, fortunately they were on slightly higher ground than the enemy, which was protecting them from that damned MG 42.

"Sarge, I got the radio, but I can't get to you, every time I move that f**king machine gun starts up, the bastard can see me."

"He can't see ya Smitty, but he sees the brush moving, keep your f**king head down. Can you raise company?"

"Yeah Sarge, I got 'em on the horn right now."

"Okay, here are the grid coordinates, tell 'em four rounds of smoke, then HE³, everything they got."

"Whoa Sarge, aren't we kinda close for that?"

"Just call it in Smitty, if we don't bring the heat on those Krauts, we're all dead meat!"

Sauer was ready to make his move, he signaled to his 2nd Squad to be ready, at which point two of them stood up to see where they were going. One took an M1 round right through the top of his head, the other went down with two .30 caliber rounds to his chest.

"Down you idiots, stay down." That's when Sauer heard the whistling of incoming mortar fire.

"Scheiße! Move, move, move!!"

The smoke rounds landed slightly short but it was enough to cover Sgt Jenkins as he and his squad fell back, dragging their dead and wounded with them. The company mortar crews knew their business, they had added a bit to the range for the high explosive rounds following the smoke. They landed right where Jenkins needed them.

Sauer was up and moving as the smoke rounds began to go off, momentarily he had the thought of assaulting into the smoke, the Amis wouldn't be expecting that, but his rookies would probably get confused. The old army saying of "order, counter-order, disorder" always seemed to have it's most brutal effect on new soldiers under fire for the first time.

So he bellowed, "Fall back lads, let's get the Hell out of here. Run!!"

Unteroffizier Sauer's platoon fell back into the forest, dragging their dead and wounded with them. As they did so, the American mortar rounds impacted all over the area they had just left. It had been a very close call.

1Lt Paddock stood motionless, his helmet tipped back, carbine slung, hands tucked into his belt. He did that so the men couldn't see his hands shaking. He was both furious and immensely sad at the same time. Those were his men, his responsibility there on the ground, dead, covered by overcoats.

Sgt Jenkins held the dog tags out to his lieutenant - three privates, all newly assigned, weren't going home after the war. Crawford, William G., Adams, Joseph C., and Jones, Wilson B., all killed in action during a chance encounter with what had to be a platoon strength German patrol, Jenkins swore that there had been "more of the bastards" back in the trees. May have been a company they encountered, Paddock thought.

"You did the best you could Greg, You got nine of your guys back after meeting with a vastly superior force. How are your wounded, Gibson and Carter, right?" Paddock balanced the dog tags of the dead men in his hand, their physical weight was negligible, what they represented, three young lives cut short, weighed heavily on the young officer.

"Gibson's just a flesh wound, Doc says he'll be back tomorrow. Carter will be going home, probably minus an arm. That Kraut MG hit him low on the bicep, wasn't much left of his arm below that." Sgt Jenkins ran his jacket sleeve over his face. Jesus, he thought, here I am crying in front of the f**king boss.

"It's okay Greg, don't beat yourself up. Get your guys some chow, and some rest, we're moving out to the assault course tomorrow."

The two men parted, neither in full control of their emotions at that moment. 

Hauptmann Jürgen von Lüttwitz, commander of the 5th Company, walked along the line of dead men. "Six men Manfred? Have you taken the roll?"

"Jawohl Herr Hauptmann, these six dead - Klein, Müller, Dorfmann, Heinemann, Schmitz, and Moeller - Pfeizer and Burg are at the aid station, just scratches really. Everybody else is accounted for and ready for duty." Sauer sighed as he said that, they were just kids. They should be chasing girls and playing football, not dying here in this Gottverdammte Belgian forest.

The captain was wearing his soft cap, which he took off so that he could smooth his hair back, why was he sweating so much, he wondered. He looked at the dead men, his men, the men he was expected to lead, the men who should still be alive.

"So how many Americans were there Manfred?" He was watching the man to see how he answered. While he thought he knew Sauer well after their "adventures" in France, you never knew how authority would change a man.

"No more than a squad, couldn't have been. But they reacted well, those damned rifles of theirs can put a lot of rounds out. By the time we were ready to maneuver, they had called in mortar fire. I had no choice but to pull back. We would all be dead otherwise." Sauer was slightly embarrassed, his platoon had been routed by an American squad.

"It's their ability to get artillery on us so quickly that's the problem. How did your men behave?"

"Instead of taking charge when he spotted the Americans and ordering us to cover, Dorfmann asked if the Americans were our men. He paid the price for that, he was the first to fall. I'll talk to the boys about that. Don't ask questions, react, do something. Standing there and doing nothing is never a good idea."

"Certainly, I'll explain this to battalion. Though costly, it's a good lesson. At least the new men have been blooded. I'm sure they'll react better next time." The captain shook his head as he said that, more lessons like that and his company would bleed away to nothing.

¹ Clear?

² Lads

³ HE = High explosive