The Crossroads, Part Five

National Archives

Unterfeldwebel Arnold Fischer and Obergefreiter Dietrich Horn were sitting in their foxhole discussing who they thought might get the platoon, now that their platoon commander, Feldwebel Adolf Hase, was missing in action.

"Aren't you senior to both Landau and Münch?" Horn was interested in becoming a squad leader, if Fischer moved up, so would he. Horn felt that he was overdue for a promotion.

"Landau? Sure, he's been in the Army less than I have, but Münch? I don't know. Now if you ask me..."

At that point Fischer's voice was drowned out by a Focke Wulf 190 which came booming down the road, just clearing the tree tops to the company's left flank.

Some of the men began to cheer, they hadn't seen any friendly aircraft overhead in months. But that cheer died in their throats as another aircraft, a silvery P-51 Mustang, came booming overhead in hot pursuit of the German aircraft.

Some of the men thought to open fire, but their leaders told them not to bother, besides, they might hit the Fw 190 instead!

As the American flew overhead, the men on the ground could hear the chatter of the aircraft's six machine guns, they also noted the brass casings from those guns dropping to the ground around them.

The German aircraft pulled sharply up and to the left, a groan came from the men when they saw smoke trailing from the German. Moments later the canopy came off as the aircraft began to burn. The pilot jumped a moment later, but his parachute never had the chance to open, he was just too low. His body landed somewhere behind the American lines.

It was the day after the Germans had driven them from the crossroads and 2nd Platoon was itching to attack the Germans, to take back what they had lost. Well, not all the men were that enthusiastic about attacking.

"I tell ya guys, there are a lot more Krauts over there than we've got men. I'd bet that's a whole battalion, maybe even a regiment." Pvt. Donald Adkins was still shaken from his experience yesterday morning. He had turned tail and run when the Germans had hit them. Seeing his buddies killed, then seeing his sergeant go down, he had panicked.

Pvt. Frank Genovese, who had been riding with Sgt. Gentile's squad, his best friend was in that squad, had been on his way back to the squad that very morning, just before the attack. He had seen Adkins run, as he didn't know what was happening, he ran too. He was sick about that, especially when he'd later discovered that the halftrack he'd been riding in had been blown up by the Kraut assault guns. His buddy Pvt. Joe Gray had been manning the .50 in that track. He was missing in action, everyone figured that he'd died in the halftrack. Genovese wasn't so sure, Joe was a tough bastard, a real survivor.

As the men talked, they heard two aircraft fly over, not too far away. They caught a glimpse of a dark aircraft trailing smoke, then a very shiny aircraft on the dark one's tail. Moments later there was an explosion, then the shiny aircraft came back.

The bird was very low, flying down the road where the Germans were positioned. Genovese swore that the aircraft, Cpl. Chapman said it was a P-51, was strafing the Germans. He could hear the guns chattering and see thin wisps of smoke trailing back. He also noticed the glitter of expended brass catching the sunlight as it fell from the aircraft.

A cheer went up from the Americans as the shiny Mustang arched up into the sky then headed west. The pilot performed a roll as he climbed.

"Sanitäter!!" The cries went up from down the line as the American aircraft flew off to the west. It was a brief strafing pass, but it had caught two men of 2nd Squad, 3rd Platoon, out in the open.

Unteroffizier Peter Krause abruptly broke off his conversation with the acting company commander, Leutnant Manfred Sauer, and sprinted towards the shouts. As he ran he felt the holster containing his P 38¹ pistol bouncing on his hip. He had the odd thought that he should probably clean the weapon, he'd had it for a year and a half and had never fired it. Only rarely did he even draw it from its holster.

When he arrived he noticed two things, one was the pathetic sight of an Obergefreiter he didn't know (it was Dietrich Horn) cradling the body of an Unterfeldwebel. Arnold Fischer, the Unterfeldwebel, was quite dead, he was missing parts of his torso and one leg was nearly severed, he must have died in great agony, Krause thought.

The second thing he noticed was a wounded man being tended to by another infantryman.

"Where did you learn that?" Krause asked as he knelt down to check the wounded man, one Grenadier Arno Hänel.

"Medical school, Herr Unteroffizier. My studies ended when I was drafted last April. I was in my first year. My father is a country doctor, I learned many things from him. I am Fleischhacker, by the way." As he said this, young Grenadier Erhard Fleischhacker checked the job he had done binding up Hänel's left calf, a piece of rock from the road and been blasted into it from the American's machine guns. Hänel's calf was a mess, he would need surgery.

Krause stifled a chuckle, it would be unseemly to laugh when one of his comrades was lying dead nearby and another would need to be evacuated, but a man with a name like Fleischhacker² becoming a doctor? What were the odds of that?

2nd Lt. Stephen Hernandez heard the distinctive sound of a jeep approaching. He and Cpl. John Myerson had managed to get one of the spare radios working, so they were back in touch with the world. Hernandez looked up to see his company commander, Cpt. Tony Palminteri. The Captain dismounted from the jeep nearly before it had stopped moving.

"Stephen, heard you had a pretty rough time yesterday morning."

"Yessir, Krauts hit us in company strength, with armored support, with nearly perfect timing. There was no way we were going to make a stand, half the men were withdrawing, a lot of guys were down, and when that Sherman blew itself apart, I ordered the withdrawal. I take full responsibility, Cap'n." Hernandez still felt that he could have done more to get the men ready.

"Don't beat yourself up, Stephen, I wouldn't expect a platoon in a hasty defensive position to stop an entire German company. That's why I've got the rest of Charlie Company coming up behind me. We've also got a second tank platoon coming. We're going to hit the Krauts tomorrow at dusk, hit them with the sun at our backs."

"Seems dicey, Sir. Out in the open, that's a grenadier company over there, nearly every swinging dick is carrying an automatic weapon."

"Which is why we're going to shell the shit out of the bastards right after the air show." Palminteri said that with a huge grin on his face.

"Air show, Cap'n?"

"Yup, in about an hour, the flyboys are coming over with two squadrons of Marauders to bomb those bastards. When the dust ain't quite settled, we start hitting them with artillery until tomorrow afternoon. Just when they think it's over, the tanks go in with us in close support. Sound good?" Palminteri asked.

"Sounds great, I'm going to get my guys to lay out air recognition panels, I'm guessing those B-26s are with 9th Air Force³, right?" Hernandez was already setting things in motion, sending his messengers and basic duty privates to spread the word. Every man in the platoon carried one of the big orange squares folded in his pack which they used to mark their positions for the flyboys, though it didn't always work out.

Palminteri shook his head as he watched Hernandez go to work. No point in mentioning that the 9th had again hit friendlies back in December near Malmedy. Palminteri had classmates who were with the Army Air Force, they'd told him how hard it was to distinguish friend from foe from the air.

He just hoped the guys that were supporting them could read a map!

The Major's Kübelwagen had returned, over his vociferous objections Major von Lüttwitz had been bundled off to the battalion aid station to have his arm treated properly. Grenadier Gustav Ullmer had driven the Major to the rear and had been ordered to scrounge batteries for the company radios.

Ullmer had succeeded and had also brought orders for the company. They were to pull back to the next defensive line. There they would be with the remainder of their parent battalion.

"When are we moving, Herr Leutnant?" Sauer chuckled, Ullmer was a good soldier, but young, rather like an overexcited puppy at times.

"Tomorrow, Gustav, after sunset. We pull back and let the Amis have their damned crossroads back. For now, I want to get all of our excess equipment on the wagons. We'll send them back tonight. Schmidt!!" Sauer yelled for his radioman.

"Herr Leutnant?"

"There are new batteries for our three surviving radios, make sure they get distributed. Off with you now!" Sauer watched as the young Grenadier ran off. They were all so damned young and eager, he thought.

"Now it's my job to keep them alive." He said aloud. "What are you grinning about Keller?" He had noticed the Spieß nearby, with a foolish grin on his face.

"I remember when you were still a Feldwebel, Herr Leutnant. From squad leader to company commander in just a few short weeks. You're starting to sound like an old man, begging your pardon. Sir."

"Run along Spieß, don't you have bullets to count or something?"

"Zu befehl, Herr Leutnant. We move tomorrow night?"

"Yes, and I too am worried about the Americans coming back before then, make sure the men stay alert tonight!"

"Absolutely, Manfred. I'll make sure of it."

¹ Oddly enough, German medics carried a sidearm, whereas their American counterparts did not. At least, not officially.

² The name "Fleischhacker" literally translates to "meat chopper."

³ The 9th Air Force had been given the nickname "America's Luftwaffe" after a number of accidental bombings of their own forces. In Normandy and later in the Ardennes. (Source)

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