On the Slopes of the Brocken

(Source)

As tracer fire from at least two German machine guns crisscrossed overhead, Cpl. John Myerson yelled over at his lieutenant, "Welcome back L.T.! Nice of the Krauts to provide fireworks for your return!"

1st Lt. Nate Paddock just grimaced at his radioman, then tried to burrow deeper into the mud at the bottom of the roadside ditch that the platoon command group was taking shelter in.

The day had started normally enough, 2nd Platoon was in the lead once more, riding the tanks of 2nd Lt. Brad Woodstock. Their battalion, the 1/26, was covering the left flank of their sister regiment's 2/18 battalion. That battalion had been meeting heavy resistance from what Paddock had been told.

The 1/26 was following what was essentially an improved logging trail along the southern slope of the tallest peak in the Harz Mountains, the Brocken¹, which still had snow on its upper reaches. They had just moved out of the forest and onto a better, paved road when all Hell broke loose.

Machine gun fire from the right had peeled the infantry off of the lead tank, Box O' Nuts, commanded by Sgt. Ken Boyd. From what Paddock had seen, at least four of his men were sprawled in the road near the tank and Sgt. Boyd was slumped over the edge of his turret. Paddock had no idea if any of those men were still alive.

Just when he thought that things couldn't get any worse, Myerson pointed at a hole in the radio. They were stuck in a ditch, under heavy fire, and had no way to communicate with the rest of the platoon, or the company for that matter.

Pfc. Jack Horner, Box O' Nuts' gunner, was slewing the turret to the right, trying to lay the gun on where the German tracers were coming from on the right. He was covered in the blood of his tank commander, Ken Boyd.

"Got him! Firing!" he yelled out.

Horner stomped on the floor trigger sending a high explosive round downrange. It must have hit something because the fire from that sector ceased.

Cpl. Jon Riggs, the driver and now the de facto commander of the tank, screamed over the intercom, "Another MG 10 o'clock! Kill him!"

Horner began slewing the turret in that direction when the tank suddenly rang like a church bell. A German anti-tank round had glanced off the turret, knocking Boyd's body to the roadside.

"Shit! Shit! Shit! Get us out of here Jon!" Horner was screaming, he was starting to slew the turret back to the right where he thought the AT gun was, he hadn't gone far when another shot from that gun hit Box O' Nuts again. This one penetrated the hull in front of the assistant driver, Pvt. Bob Turner.

Paddock was watching when the second round hit Box O' Nuts. "F**k!"

"John, with me!!" Paddock bellowed as he rose up from the ditch and made a dash for the tank behind Box O' Nuts. He had seen the muzzle flash from the German gun and he wanted to kill it before it hit another one of the tanks.

Myerson followed close on his lieutenant's heels, yelling "Shit!" with every footstep.

Paddock picked up the phone on the back of the second tank in the column, he had no idea which tank it was, but the voice on the other end sounded familiar. "Brad, that you? It's Paddock."

"Yeah, it's Woodstock, did you see where that AT gun fired from?"

"Yup, if you pull up to the right of Box O' Nuts, the gun is at one o'clock, just inside the tree line."

"Got it!"

Paddock and Myerson stayed directly behind Catamount as the tank rolled forward at slow speed. Before reaching a point where they could engage the gun, the Germans fired their AT gun again. The round screeched past, just missing the third tank in the column.

The gun on Catamount barked and Paddock watched as a white phosphorous round exploded right about where he had seen the muzzle flash. A spectacular secondary explosion told him that the German gun was no more. The resultant screams from that location told him that the gun's crew were burning to death. Something which, surprisingly, didn't really bother him.

Woodstock's tank had rolled forward again after taking out the German AT gun. They were almost immediately engaged by the German machine gun which had been to the left of the road. Another round of white phosphorus silenced that crew as well.

Two more of Woodstock's tanks rolled forward and into the narrow fields either side of the road, they quickly eliminated all resistance in the tree line with machine gun and cannon fire. Paddock swore that he had seen two small parties of Germans emerge from the tree line with their hands in the air, both parties had been swept by machine gun from the tanks and rifle fire from his own platoon. The men were not in a forgiving mood.

The cost of the encounter was high, four dead, two from Boyd's tank, including Boyd himself, and five wounded, three tankers and two infantrymen. The infantry casualties were all from Sgt. John Chapman's squad: Privates Guy Morse and Herman Bridges had both been killed, Privates Leon Higgins and Ronnie Williamson were both wounded, Williamson badly.

Paddock watched as Doc Milbury worked on Williamson, a weapons carrier had been called up to evacuate the wounded, Paddock hoped it made it in time to save Williamson. Myerson was looking for a replacement radio back in the halftracks which followed the tanks. The infantrymen who had been riding in those vehicles, from 3rd Platoon, were already in the tree line, looking for German survivors.

Pvt. Ronnie Sykes heard a rustling in the nearby brush, he stopped and waved at the man to his left, some ten yards away. Pfc. Neal Mendoza gave Sykes a thumbs up, then pointed his rifle in the direction Sykes had indicated.

Sykes made sure the safety was off on his Garand as he advanced, one slow step after another. Using the barrel of his rifle to part the brush, he saw a man in the mottled camouflage favored by the Waffen SS. The man was bloody from the waist down and was trying to crawl away. Something made him stop, he rolled over and looked directly at Sykes.

"Bitte, nicht schiessen.²"

Sykes recognized the collar tabs of an SS sergeant, the man was older, hard-bitten, a real old soldier. His eyes darted around, Sykes thought he looked like a predator at bay. Though badly wounded, the SS sergeant still had an air of menace about him. He tried to sit up.

Which is when Sykes shot him in the chest.

The SS man's eyes glazed over and with a muffled gurgle he sank back to the forest floor, dead.

Cpt. Stephen Hernandez was talking with both Paddock and 2nd Lt. Bob Poole, commanding 3rd Platoon. Hernandez had sent 1st Platoon, along with Woodstock's four surviving tanks, further up the road, into the forest.

"From what your guys found, what do we have, a mix of SS and Volkssturm?" Hernandez asked, looking at Poole.

"Yeah, twelve SS and fifteen Volkssturm, the anti-tank gun was manned by SS men, most of the Volkssturm were kids, most of 'em in Hitler Youth uniforms wearing Volkssturm armbands." Poole paused then added, "One of my guys killed a wounded SS man."

Hernandez waited a beat, then said, "And?"

"Well, Cap'n, I mean, I don't like my guys getting in the habit of shooting wounded men, even SS." Poole seemed uncomfortable with bringing it up.

"Come with me, you too Nate."

The three officers walked over to the side of the road, where, bundled in their ponchos, were four dead American soldiers. Hernandez pointed to them, then spoke.

"Take a good look Bob, Nate. I don't like killing any more than the next man. But the bastards who did this know the goddamned war is lost. I don't know why they don't just quit. They want to fight? F**k them, we'll fight. I don't care if I have to kill every goddamned German in uniform to make this war end, I'll do it. Look good and hard gentlemen, this war can't last much longer and you know what, I'm tired of losing men like this."

Hernandez sighed, took his helmet off, ran one hand through his sweaty hair, then placed his helmet back on his head. "Look Bob, talk to the kid, what he did wasn't exactly right, but it wasn't exactly wrong. Those bastards want to live, they should surrender before they shoot at us."

Poole nodded, "I know what you mean Cap'n, but it bugs me when shit like this happens."

"It bugs me too Bob. But stuff like this happens all the time. Go on, mount up, I want your platoon backstopping 1st Platoon and the tanks."

As Poole jogged off, Hernandez turned to Paddock. "Sure you want to stay with 2nd, you coulda been killed out there. Think Edith would forgive either of us if that happened?"

"She's already mad at me for being back up on the line. She'd go crazy with worry if she knew I had my old platoon back. But hey, if my men have to lay it on the line, I want to be there with them."

"Okay, but ease up on the heroics, Myerson told me what you did. Gutsy, but you could have gotten the both of you killed. Be careful Nate. Okay?"

"Okay Stephen, hey, ain't this a hoot? You used to be my platoon sergeant, now you're my boss. Funny how life works, isn't it?"

"Does that bother you Nate?"

"Hell no, you're one of the best soldiers in the outfit. The men would follow you through Hell, so would I. And yes, I'll be more careful, Myerson told me if I ever did that again he'd kick my ass, officer or no."

"Heh, your radioman's a big boy, I wouldn't piss him off."

"Yeah, good point. All right, I need to see to my men. Chapman's squad has been taking it in the teeth lately, they lost Sgt. Cruz and Pvt. Genovese not long ago, now these four guys. Any chance I can cut them some slack for a few days?"

"Yeah, I'll make them the company reserve, keep 'em out of harm's way for a week or so. At least until we get replacements. Ah, my XO's waving at me, probably more paperwork I need to sign."

"How's he working out?" Paddock wanted to know.

"Good kid, overeager, ya know, like a young puppy, but a good kid. He'll do."

Paddock nodded then said, "Back to work I guess."

"Be careful Nate, I mean it."

The view from the Brocken, in the Harz Mountains.
(Source)

¹ Also known as the Blocksberg.

² Please, don't shoot.

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