What?

(Source)

So I spent some time at lunch today, starting the next installment of my wee tank story. My computer at work uses Firefox as a browser, my computer at home, where I tried (note that word, "tried") to finish the post, uses Google Chrome.

Round about 2300 local, that is 11:00 PM, rather past my bedtime, I started noticing strange stuff in the post. Different font sizes, different fonts, spacing of graphics was completely messed up.

Usually I can pop open the HTML editor and fix whatever weird characters got mixed in, which happens sometimes when one uses multiple browsers. Here's what I found, literally throughout the post...

<span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;georgia&quot; , &quot;utopia&quot; , &quot;palatino linotype&quot; , &quot;palatino&quot; , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">"Head north, you see here on the map? Take that road down to Houffalize. The rest of the battalion should be there by now."</span></span><br />

Basically Firefox, maybe Chrome, decided that it needed to set the color of the font, then define the font, then change the font, change it again, again, and again, then set the background color and...

Okay, this crap is everywhere, it happens sometimes, it's Blogger's revenge for me trying to use multiple languages in a post (the next installment has French in addition to German and English). Blogger will sometimes note in the HTML, "Hey, that's German." Well, no scheisse Sherlock, it sure is. Are you going to display it differently?

No.

I didn't think so.

So I start to fix this mess. Okay, I need to go to bed sometime, while I start my Christmas vacation tomorrow, I have things to do, people to see, before flying down to D.C. for to visit The Nuke. In other words, I have to un-fire truck this tomorrow. Like the man said...

So you get this post instead, not the post with tanks and snow and fighting.

Maybe you needed a break from that anyway. So, the next installment of my little winter adventure will continue Saturday, the Good Lord willing and the creek don't rise.

My apologies, but I got nothing!

There are days that I hate computers. Never mix browsers, trust me.

The Winter Solstice

Winter - Ivan Shishkin
(Source)

Yes, today is the first day of winter here in the Northern Hemisphere. I didn't want to let this pass in the tumult of battle and the roar of tank engines from my current series of posts about a time so far removed from today's youth that I may as well be writing of the Punic Wars. But I get it.

An ad in Wednesday's junk mail caught my attention this morning.

"Collection of U.S. Postal stamps, most over a half century old!"

My first thought was, "Wow, those are some old stamps." My second thought was that a half century ago was 1967. I was 14 then, I looked at the stamps, some I recognized. Some I remember putting on letters. What was once commonplace is now collectable. From my perspective, those stamps weren't that old. A younger person might disagree.

What's that got to do with winter, you might ask. Winter is the time of year when, to many people, everything seems dead. The cold seems to permeate every thought and action. (Depending where one lives of course and for certain definitions of "cold.") As one ages, cold becomes a bit less tolerable. One starts to think about nudging the thermostat up just a hair. To take the edge off, dontcha know?

But when it snows, I feel the excitement of my youth. I remember the days of snowball fights, sledding, building snowmen and snow forts. The sparkling lights of Christmas decorations reflecting from the new fallen snow. Magical.

Then I'm reminded that I need to go somewhere to do something. Doesn't matter what it is, I have to clean off the deck, clean off the car, scrape the ice off the windows, let the cabin heat up. Dad did all that when I was young. Now I'm Dad and his dislike of snow and ice becomes more clear now. Even if I don't fully share my father's disdain for winter.

Yup, winter is here. For the moment it's magical and wonderful. Soon though it'll be January and winter's welcome will begin to wear thin. But for now, I'm enjoying the ride.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
By Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.  
His house is in the village though;  
He will not see me stopping here  
To watch his woods fill up with snow.  

My little horse must think it queer  
To stop without a farmhouse near  
Between the woods and frozen lake  
The darkest evening of the year.  

He gives his harness bells a shake  
To ask if there is some mistake.  
The only other sound’s the sweep  
Of easy wind and downy flake.  

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,  
But I have promises to keep,  
And miles to go before I sleep,  
And miles to go before I sleep.

Entrance - Sergei Arsenevich Vinogradov
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Trust a Russian to know what a real winter looks like.

Panzer 413 - Interlude

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As Tennessee Whiskey rumbled up the road to Gouvy, Mac Peterson was still thinking about the incident at the crossroads. Should Tom have let those Tigers slide on by? If he had, Boston Beans would be rolling down the road behind them. Now Tom and his crew were dead. Gone.

Yeah, sure, they'd killed a Tiger. But another Tiger had killed them. Mac had run, no other way to look at it, they'd run away. But Jesus, square off against a Tiger? He was also pretty sure that there had been a third Tiger, skulking behind the one Boston Beans had killed.

One Tiger was iffy, two? No thanks.

"Hey Sarge, you awake up there?"

The call from his gunner snapped Mac back to the present. That's when he noticed headlights coming down the road, faint headlights. Mac realized that the snow had lightened up some, otherwise they would have run smack into whatever was coming down the road.

"Louis, halt! Jim, load armor piercing!"

"Up!"

"Easy does it boys, could be one of ours." Mac was watching intently as the other vehicle slowly approached. As it got closer, he realized that it was an M8 scout car, with infantry hanging all over it. A second followed, it too had men clinging to the outside.

When the M8 spotted the Sherman in the middle of the road, it stopped rather abruptly, almost spilling a couple of its passengers. One of those passengers jumped down and approached Tennessee Whiskey, the man was taking no chances, his Thompson was ready and pointed in Mac's direction.

(Source)

"Chef..."

Horst was on the intercom, Willi thought he knew why, but he asked anyway, when the boys started calling him "chief," it made him nervous.

"What is it Horst? Make it quick, I think that's Limerlé up ahead."

"Fuel, Chef. We're about to see if this beast can run on fumes."

"Verstanden. We should be able to fuel here, I hope. Or we will become a very expensive bunker."

Willi could see a couple of Kettenhunde* by the first house in the village ahead, which he really hoped was Limerlé.

One of the Kettenhunde stepped into the road, signalling them to stop. Willi ordered Horst to stop, he would like to run the guy over, they'd hassled him in Russia one too many times, but he decided to play nice.

"Is this Limerlé?"

"What unit are you with?" the military policeman asked, ignoring Willi's question.

"Schwere Panzer-Abteilung 506, we were attached to 6th Army, but the battalion has been directed to here, then Bastogne."

"Ja, your boys were through here four hours ago, where have you been?"

Willi had had enough of this man's arrogance, over the intercom he told Schmidt, "Junge, point your MG at this schweine, I want to get his attention." Then to the man in the road...

"We've been fighting the Amis, not bothering honest soldiers. We need fuel, does this town have any?"

Obergefreiter Johannes Töricht, was ready to order this tanker down from his hatch and give him the business, how dare he talk to the Feldgendarmerie in such a manner? Then he noticed that the tank's bow machine gun was pointed right at his head. Taking a couple of steps to his right, he noticed that the gun followed him.

"Down this road, second house on the left, I think there are some fuel cans there. Now move it, you're blocking the road!"

"Insolent child," Willi muttered as he told Horst where to go. Damn Feldgendarmerie, never fighting, always harassing honest soldiers.

Feldgendarmerie
(Source)

As the man with the Tommy-gun approached, Mac could see that the man was a major.

"Evenin' Sir, we're on the way to Gouvy, then on to St. Vith to hook up with the rest of our battalion."

"Which outfit you with Sergeant? Last I heard, St. Vith was cut off. We were ordered back to Houffalize, but we've been dodging Nazis for the last few hours." While the major had lowered his weapon slightly, it would easily swing towards Mac if he wanted. The guy was obviously on edge.

"Second Platoon, B Company of the 17th Tank Battalion. Have you heard where they might be at Sir?"

Mac was getting a bit edgy, it was getting lighter, he was hungry, he was sure his crew was hungry and he was worried that Tennessee Whiskey might be thirsty. They needed to gas up, soon.

"No Sarge, haven't heard anything about that outfit, but I know 7th Armored was supposed to fall back on Elsenborn Ridge. If I was you, I'd turn around and follow us to Houffalize."

"Love to major, but I need gas."

The major went back to the leading M8 and after a brief talk with its commander, came back to Mac's tank.

"Should be some fuel in Gouvy, if the engineers haven't torched it yet. The Krauts are coming on fast, we don't want them using our fuel, so I'd hustle Sarge." With that the major headed back to the M8, then he stopped.

"One more thing Sarge, there are rumors of Krauts running around in our uniforms, driving Jeeps or some such nonsense. Keep your eyes open."

"Copy that Major. Good luck."

"You too, Sarge. You too."

"Willi, isn't that der Spiess** over there?"

As Willi helped Horst, Peter, and Georg move another fuel drum over to 413, he looked up. Next to a small shed was a battered Kübelwagen, and sure enough, it was Otto Krämer, Fourth Company's Spiess.

"Hallo, Spiess. Was passiert?"

Krämer looked over and saw Willi and a big grin broke out on his face. He'd known Willi since Poland in '39.

Kübelwagen
(Source)

"How are you Willi? Where's the rest of your platoon?"

Sighing, Willi lowered his head, then looked back down the road into the village. "411 broke down after we crossed into Belgium, engine fire. The lieutenant was going to try and get the engine swapped out, wanted us to wait. Some SS officer ordered the rest of the platoon to get moving, we were blocking the road."

Looking puzzled, Otto asked, "So where is the young Leutnant?"

"Dead. A stray Ami artillery round sprayed some shrapnel around, a couple of wounded, but Leutnant Hansel was dead. Freak accident I guess you'd say. Then 413 was killed by a Sherman earlier this morning. Now it's just us and 414."

Otto paused, as if he didn't know what to say next, then he just blurted it out. "We just had word, München was bombed three days ago. A heavy raid, the Tommies in the night, the Yanks in the day."

Willi was from München, his parents and his sisters still lived there. Before he could ask, Otto looked at him sadly and said, "They're gone Junge, all gone."

Tennessee Whiskey was all gassed up and ready to move out. Mac Peterson was pondering his next move, probably Houffalize as the major had suggested, he'd actually found that on his map, they should be able to make it there by mid-afternoon. If all went well, but so far, nothing had gone well.

Mac looked up as the engineers seemed to be finishing up whatever it was they were doing. One of them, a Master Sergeant was walking over to him.

"Hey buddy, where you headed? Me and my guys could use a little help. A tank might come in handy. We're supposed to head for Houffalize, putting down mines and dropping trees across the road. We might get to blow a bridge or two. Interested?"

Mac looked around, the engineers had a couple of weapons carriers and a jeep. What the Hell, he could use the company.

"Sure, you guys ready to move out?"

"Yup, go ahead and roll, we'll be right behind you!"

As Tennessee Whiskey headed back the way she'd came, Mac heard a loud "woomph" and looked back to see the last fuel in Gouvy go up in a big fireball. In front of that devastation, he saw the three engineer vehicles speeding towards him.

That MSgt was gesturing at him to "follow me," he looked scared for some reason.

On the other side of Gouvy, a long column of Panther tanks from the 9th SS Panzer Division, Hohenstauffen, was moving rapidly down the road into Gouvy.

SS-Hauptsturmführer*** Kurt Langanke slapped the turret of his Panther in frustration as he saw what had to be the fuel stores in Gouvy go up in flames. His tanks needed fuel, the Belgians they'd questioned said they'd seen the Amis storing fuel in two places, Gouvy and Rettigny.

No chance of getting fuel in Gouvy. Next stop then, Rettigny.

(Source)

"Meine Panzer brauchen Treibstoff!" Langanke bellowed at the lowering clouds.

They gave him snow.

Fuel dump near Stavelot.
(Source)

* Kettenhunde, literally "chain dogs," German Army slang for military policemen because of the gorget worn while on duty which was suspended from a chain.
** der Spiess = German Army slang for a unit's first sergeant.
*** SS-Hauptsturmführer, Captain in the Waffen SS (SS = Schutzstaffel, Protection Squadron), the Nazi Party's armed forces. Separate from the Army, Air Force, and Navy.

Panzer 413 - The Road to Gouvy

(Source)

"Hold up Louis, hold up." Sergeant Mac Peterson yelled over the intercom to his driver. Fumbling with his map, looking at the crossroads ahead, Mac realized, he had no idea where they were.

On the radio to the only other tank in the platoon, Mac ordered, "Tom, let's stop here. Do you have any idea where the Hell we are?"

"Belgium?"

Tom Friedberg, always the freaking comedian, Mac thought. 

"Yeah, that's right, we're in freaking Belgium. Get over here, put out security, let's figure this out."

Part of the 7th Armored Division, these two tanks were all that was left of 2nd Platoon, B Company, 17th Tank Battalion. Now they were moving forward on a bitter cold day, somewhere in Belgium, looking to meet up with their replacements to bring the platoon up to full strength.

But sometime over the past couple of days, in heavy fog, rain, and now snow, they'd gotten lost. The night before they'd seen a lot of movement to the rear, not organized, but a full panicked retreat. They couldn't get any scuttlebutt from those guys other than, "The Krauts are coming, thousands of 'em!" And "You're going the wrong way pal, unless you want to die!"

So Mac had to figure out just where they were, in order to figure out which way they had to go, in order to get to where they were supposed to be. In the middle of a battle, apparently. Mac could hear the rumble of artillery in the distance. A lot of artillery.

(Source)

"Nein, we should have turned left at that last crossroads. The rest of the company must have turned, we continued straight. Scheisse!" Willi was livid.

First the busted track on the first day of the offensive. Then trying to get through the traffic jams at the border. While American resistance had been sporadic, they were already behind schedule. They'd expended what, two rounds so far? What was worse, they were already well behind the rest of the battalion. The rest of the battalion in their slow and clumsy King Tigers had left them in the dust. (So to speak, what with all the rain and snow the roads were mostly mud and frozen mud.)

Now the sun was already below the horizon, at least Willi thought it was, he han't seen the sun in over a week! It was rapidly getting dark and the snow was starting to pick up, as was the wind. Another cold night rattling over these crappy roads, trying to get into the fight.

Damn it, what else could possibly go wrong?

"Horst, crank it up, there should be a small crossroads just ahead, we take a left there. Then we'll motor down to Limerlé and lager there for the night."

"Jawohl Herr Oberfeldwebel! Zu befehl!"

As Panzer 413 rolled forward, Panzers 412 and 414, started up with just enough of an interval to keep an eye on the tail light of the tank in front but not too close. Visibility was bad, and getting worse, but you didn't want to be too close to the tank in front, had to leave some room for maneuver.

Willi turned to see where Panzer 412 was when a streak of fire came out of the night from not even 50 meters off the road. Willi watched in horror as the streak slammed into the side of 412's hull. Panzer 412 immediately pulled off the road to the left, seconds later a bright flame shot skyward from the commander's cupola as the ammunition began to cook off.

In the sudden light Willi saw two Shermans in the spot where the shot had originated. He also noticed, briefly, that he had not seen the intersection, it was a small side road, and they were still on the main road to Limerlé. All that passed in a flash, just then 412's turret shot into the sky, the seven ton turret flipping into the air like a child's toy.

As Willi ordered Horst to make a hard right turn, to put their thickest armor towards the enemy, he barked out, "Panzer, three o'clock, load Panzergranate!"

Georg, the loader, immediately yelled out - "Panzergranate geladen!" - as he already had an armor piercing round in the gun.

Gunner Fritz Weber was cranking the turret to the right to lay the big 88 on the target, which he couldn't yet see.

"Holy crap! Louis back her up fast! That's a bunch of freaking Tigers!"

Louis Clark had "Tennessee Whiskey" backing up fast, almost before Mac ordered it.

Tigers scared Louis. I ain't messing with no Tiger, Louis thought to himself, trying to push the accelerator through the floor.

As Louis pushed the tank to its limit, Mac felt the hot breath of a tank round pass just over his turret.

"Scheisse! Missed! Reload, reload dammit."

Out of the corner of his eye, Willi could see that Panzer 414 had gone left off the road and behind the burning hulk of 412, though 414 was as visible as if the sun was up, the wreck of 412 shielded them from the two Shermans which had ambushed them so effectively.

"Panzergranate geladen!" Georg bellowed.

Before Willi could yell "Feuer," Fritz fired the main gun, at this range the 88mm round went into the front of the American tank as if it's armor was mere paper. Willi could see a bright glowing hole where the round had hit.

In the next instant he had to duck down inside his cupola as the Sherman's ammunition ignited. The turret, much like 412's, flipped end over end over the back of the destroyed tank and over the second Sherman which Willi could see backing quickly into the brush.

"Shit, shit, shit. Damn it!" Mac nearly sobbed as he watched Tom Friedberg's tank come apart. Then he ducked reflexively as Tom's turret flipped overhead and then came down just behind their tank.

"Ah crap, Louis! Left stick, left stick or we're gonna get hung up!"

Tennessee Whiskey turned just in time to only scrape the side of the burning turret that moments before had destroyed an enemy Tiger. Mac looked to his front, nothing. The snow was now falling hard, visibility was near zero. When they were about a hundred yards from the road, as Mac figured it, he decided to gamble and see if the Krauts were chasing them.

"Louis, stop the tank!"

The tank came to an abrupt stop and slewed sideways, the field they were in was starting to freeze. Mac listened intently but couldn't hear anything but Tom's tank, Boston Beans, burning furiously. In the snow ahead and to the left there was a harsh glow, but no sign of pursuit.

Willi waited. Part of him wanted to chase the damned Sherman, killing the one that had killed Gerhard and his crew was somewhat satisfying, but he wanted both. Just then the radio crackled to life.

"So, Willi, do we give chase or proceed to Limerlé?" It was Hans Schäfer, the commander of 414, which had halted out in the field to the left of the road.

"It's not getting any warmer you know."

"Ja, marsch! We proceed to Limerlé!"

With a last long look at the funeral pyre which had been Panzer 412, Willi turned to the front and began looking at each side of the road. Visibility was so bad that he couldn't see more than a few meters to either side.

"Ich hasse diesen gottverdammten Krieg!"

"Louis, crank it up and head back to where we left Boston Beans. I want to get to Gouvy and fast. I just hope we don't run into any more Krauts tonight. We need to let someone know that there are Tigers behind us, on the road to Bastogne."

Tennessee Whiskey rolled past the wreckage of Boston Beans and then turned hard left back on to the road to Gouvy. The burning Tiger marked the intersection where the road curved towards Limerlé.

"Goddamn Germans, goddamn war."

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The Rules

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Lest ye think me to be some ancient fuddy-duddy who cannot abide forthright language...

So the other day, on Juvat's Monday post (for those keeping score at home), I removed a comment, didn't delete it, but removed it so that the lack of a comment is readily apparent. If I delete a comment, it's gone for good, all trace is removed. (FWIW, readers can delete their own comments and trace elements of that comment will remain. Until I tidy up. I wish Blogger would provide an "edit" feature for comments, but sadly it does not. So if you don't like your comment, you can delete it and re-post it. The old one will get removed permanently when I go through the "books" at the end of the day. I don't like leaving deleted comments lying about, cluttering up the landscape AND the statistics.)

Huh? What are you talking about Sarge?

A removed comment looks like this -

I do this to give the person who left the comment the opportunity to come back and repair his or her "transgression," I pass no judgement on the commenter, there are just certain things that I will not, cannot, allow.

After having mentioned that on Juvat's post, it struck me, just what are the rules here at The Chant about commenting? I've never really codified those other than the "Just be polite" bit which I added after my mentor Buck's untimely demise, now going on three years ago as of Monday instant. (Really, three years? Man, I miss that guy.)

So here are "The Commenting Rules" here at The Chant, they are very simple and very clear.

1. No racial epithets, slurs, insults, anecdotes, and the like. You're all grown ups (I assume, not being a grown up myself) you know the words I'm referring to.
2. No personal insults.
3. Try to use language that you would be comfortable using around your mother. Better yet, your spouse's mother. (A rule I have "sort of" violated at times. Sometimes I will use a "bad" word for emphasis, or, in my occasional forays into fiction, words that a soldier might use in the heat of battle. I will not use a racial epithet even if a fictional character might. Color me squeamish about that sort of thing. In the Air Force we were all "blue," there were no blacks, whites, browns, or yellows. Had that beat into me (figuratively of course) from day one.)

Just be polite... that's all I ask.

And that's pretty much it.

While going "off topic" in a comment isn't frowned upon, it will sometimes irk me. We put a lot of effort (for varying definitions of "effort") into writing these posts, so when we spend a hundred words talking about Topic A and casually mention Topic B in passing, don't go wild commenting on Topic B, try to stay focused on the topic at hand.

Like I said irksome, and then only sometimes. (When the main topic is the Nimitz Museum in Texas, going off on the alleged racism of someone photographed at the Museum is annoying. But, it's history, for better or for worse, alleged or proven. And please, don't throw long Wikipedia sections at me, that's my job.)

Most of the "off topic" comments are very interesting and will often cause me to think, sometimes a post will come out of it. But be judicious with the "off topic" comments. Often interesting but...

Okay, I'll put the shovel down and get off my soapbox.

(Though, obviously, I reserve the right to mix metaphors. Especially if they make no sense.)

Like I mentioned above, my dear friend Buck Pennington passed away three years ago Monday. I had this to say about that, a day or so after his boys released that sad fact.

Buck was a fun guy, taught me a lot about blogging, corrected my comma placement often (okay, all the time) and was quick to point out other grammatical errors when I made them. (Which was, and still is, far too often for my own tastes. But hey, I write like I talk. Which is sometimes a good thing, sometimes a bad thing.)

Buck's picture is at the top of the header, on the right (for those who didn't know it). Right next to Lex, the guy who inspired this here blog.

Miss them both I do.

That is all, carry on...



Note: I can be a cranky, er, cantankerous old fart at times. I am, to quote Lex, "an incipient curmudgeon." (Can't say cranky, Joe gets touchy if I use it... The big poopy head.)

Circles in History

On December 7th, Sarge, and many of the Bloggers on the sidebar, posted commentary about the attack on Pearl Harbor.  He had one of his trademark vignettes about a Japanese Aircrew and a Navy Gunner.  I thought it was well done and realistic.

As an aside, we should encourage him to engage in this activity more often as he approaches retirement for the second time.  It'll keep him off the streets at night.

Stay on target, juvat, stay on target! On target Aye, mi muy viejo Sargento de la Fuerza Aérea!

As readers are aware, my town has a Smithsonian quality museum dedicated to WWII in the Pacific, specifically the National Museum of the Pacific War.  Locally, it's referred to as the Nimitz Museum, as Admiral Nimitz was the CINC for the Pacific for virtually the entire war.  Additionally, Admiral Nimitz was born and raised here.  So....Nimitz Museum.

Now, December 7th was a big day, if not a particularly good one for the Navy, and the Museum has always done it right, as has the town.  We always have a lighted Christmas Parade on the first Friday in December, so every 7 years or so, it corresponds.  The 60th anniversary of the attack happened to be one of those.  If you'll recall, 2001 wasn't a particularly good year for the United States either.

That particular parade's grand marshal(s) were about a hundred or so veterans who had served at Pearl Harbor on that day.  Being older, they rode in era trucks and vehicles.  It was a moving sight, to say the least.

The museum also hosts a social event for the veterans in the main ballroom of the Museum (that part of the Museum is housed in Admiral Nimitz' grandfather's hotel, hence a ballroom).

I was browsing through the paper this past week and noticed that they had done the event again this year and had a picture of two gentlemen shaking hands.

These were the only two that could make it this year.

Source

Their names are Jim Leavelle and J.C. Alston.

I thought I recognized Mr Leavelle's from somewhere and as I continued reading, it turns out he was also in this famous photograph.

Source

The coincidences amazed me.  Pearl Harbor and the JFK assassination were, arguably, the two biggest historical moments in US history in the 20th Century. (IMHO of course, Sarge may disagree.)  And this guy was there for both.

I found it fascinating.

Mr. Leavelle served on the USS Whitney (AD-4) during the attack.

Source

And according to this excerpt from the ship's log on that day, the ship appears to have conducted itself admirably

At 0759 Air Raid Attack by Japanese Air Force. Fire and explosions on Ford Island. Sounded General Alarm. 0800 sounded General Quarters. At about 0801 first plane passed over Whitney at low altitude straffing with machine guns. 0804 commenced firing at Japanese planes with .50 caliber anti-aircraft guns. About 0805 received signal to get underway. 0809 making preparations for getting underway. Supply Department issued supplies to destroyers alongside. 0810 Set Condition Afirm, commenced firing at Japanese planes with 3" .50 caliber anti-aircraft guns. About 0820 Japanese plane in flames fell in north channel in vicinity of berth X-Ray 5. 0830 Gunnery Department issued ammunition and Ordnance stores to destroyers alongside. 0830 secured steam to destroyers Conyngham, Reid, Tucker, Case and Selfridge. 0846 cut in #1 boiler. 0855 second air attack by Japanese bombing planes, anti-aircraft guns firing at same. 0905 observed one Japanese plane fell down in flames on hill top, bearing N.E. True from ship. 0930 second air attack over. 1000 the Reid and Selfridge got underway from alongside. 1025 secured electricity to destroyers alongside. 1105 conducted intermittent firing through breaks in clouds at bombing planes. about 1130 received orders for the Whitney to remain at anchor. 1155 Captain O.D. King (MC), USN (Staff Comdesbatfor) and Lieutenant Commander C.J. Stuart (MC)< USN, left to report to Solace. 235 started taking on fuel oil from YO #28 moored alongside to starboard. 1335 five lengths of hose and two submersible pumps were sent to the Raleigh. 1400 Captain O.D. King, (MC), USN (Staff Comdesbatfor) and Lieutenant Commander C.J. Stuart (MC), USN returned from the Solace. 15050 finished taking on fuel oil, received 213,288 gallons. 1427 YO #28 cast off, making starboard side clear. 1655 the Case left from alongside. 1705 the Tucker left from alongside. 1720 the Conyngham left from alongside, leaving port side clear. 1720 darkened ship. 2110 commenced firing at planes overhead, believed to be Japanese. Sounded General Quarters. 2145 secured from General Quarters, set Condition one in the anti-aircraft battery. Set Condition Baker.

There were no personnel nor damage to material on board the Whitney.

The personnel on board were calm and unexcited throughout the engagement. They manned their battle stations efficiently and carried out all orders promptly and without confusion. All officers and men of the Whitney are deserving of the highest praise for their conduct during the engagement.

Source

Given their position, the Whitney could have figured into Sarge's vignette.

In their log, they mentioned that they saw a Japanese plane "fell down in flames on hill top, bearing N.E.".  While stationed at Camp Smith, which is on a hilltop NE of Pearl Harbor, we would go running in the hills above the camp.  We had heard rumors of a wreck of a Japanese aircraft up there.  We found it one day and while exploring it, I slipped and fell on the wing, cutting the back of my arm, badly enough to require several stitches.  I wonder......

The Picture is oriented with North at the top, the two blue dots off Ford Island is roughly the location of the Whitney.  The red circle North and East of Camp Smith is approximately where we found the aircraft.

Back to reality, juvat!  

Reality is boring, Sarge!

One of the other things the Museum does is provide free admittance to WWII Veterans. If the person actually served in the Pacific, they're asked if they'd mind being interviewed.  Mr Alston visited in 2003 and consented to an interview.  He served as a gunner on USS California and had just been relieved and gone below to chow when the attack began.

Source

A hundred men were killed on that ship and two Medals of Honor were awarded.  Mr Alston credits the USS Nevada for saving the California as the airplanes that attacked it were also lined up for an attack on California if the Nevada hadn't gotten under way.  It's interesting reading the transcript.  (The audio transcript is not very good quality, although it is interesting to hear an actual participant describe things from their point of view).

I've said it before and I'll say it again, if you are in the San Antonio or Austin area and have a day free, you owe it to yourself to visit this museum.  

If you get the chance to speak to a Pearl Harbor Veteran, take it.  You may, shortly, never have another opportunity.

Remember...

Crossroads, Baugnez, Belgium
(Google Streetview)

We'd planned it for a few days, our colonel gave us the go ahead for Thursday, the 17th of December, as it was the only day the three of us, all Air Force sergeants, could get away from the job. We all had plans for Christmas, but we had been wanting to do this since the three of us had visited Waterloo together. I, the amateur historian, would again be the guide.

For we were off to the Ardennes, at the same time of year when the battle took place, December. But while it had been cold, wet, snowy, and muddy in 1944, it was a bright winter's day when we crossed the border from Germany into Belgium, at the Wahlerscheid crossroads in 1998. A place known to the 2nd Infantry Division as "Heartbreak Crossroads," for it was there that the 2nd was engaged in a bitter fight to seize the crossroads just before the Battle of the Bulge began.

As the bitter fighting was going on, further south the Germans were launching their offensive, General Omar Bradley had no other option but to order the 2nd to break off their attack and fall back to the Elsenborn Ridge. The men of the 2nd were not happy with that.

What the crossroads look like now.
(Google Streetview)

What the crossroads looked like in February 1945.
We had come down from the top of the picture and turned down the road running to the left.
(Source)

Our route took us through the twin villages of Krinkelt-Rocherath, where the 99th Infantry Division had its bitter fight against the attacking Germans, on through Büllingen*, Bütgenbach, and Waimes, all towns which had seen the Germans retreat in the fall of 1944, good riddance the Belgians no doubt thought. Now the Nazis were back, and the Americans didn't seem to be able to stop them.

Our path into Belgium.
(Google Maps)

You'll note that marker on the map, just to the west and south a bit from Waimes, we arrived there probably around ten in the morning on the 17th of December. Fifty-four years earlier, two units met in the vicinity of that marker on the map, at the crossroads of Baugnez, then just a few houses, now larger, but still a small town.

A convoy of trucks and other vehicles of B Battery of the 258th Field Artillery Observation Battalion were negotiating the crossroads on their way to St. Vith (which lies further to the south on the map above). There they were fired upon by elements of a battle group (Kampfgruppe) from the 1st SS Panzer Division under the command of SS Lieutenant Colonel Joachim** Peiper.

Between noon and 1 pm, the German spearhead approached the Baugnez crossroads, two miles south-east of Malmedy. An American convoy of about thirty vehicles, mainly elements of B Battery of the American 285th Field Artillery Observation Battalion, was negotiating the crossroads and turning right toward Ligneuville and St. Vith, where it had been ordered to join the 7th Armored Division. The spearhead of Peiper’s group spotted the American convoy and opened fire, immobilizing the first and last vehicles of the column and forcing it to halt. Armed with only rifles and other small arms, the Americans surrendered to the German tank force.

The armoured column led by Peiper continued west toward Ligneuville. The German troops left behind assembled the American prisoners in a field along with other prisoners captured earlier in the day. Many of the survivors testified that about 120 troops were standing in the field when, for unknown reasons, the SS troops suddenly opened fire with machine guns on the prisoners. Several POWs later testified that a few of the prisoners had tried to escape, and others claimed that some prisoners had picked up their previously discarded weapons and shot at the German troops when they attempted to continue toward Ligneuville.

As soon as the SS machine gunners opened fire, the POWs panicked. Some tried to flee, but most were shot where they stood. Some dropped to the ground and pretended to be dead. SS troops walked among the bodies and shot any who appeared to be alive. A few sought shelter in a café at the crossroads. The SS soldiers set fire to the building and shot any who tried to escape. (Source)

When we were there, it was apparent that we had missed a memorial service earlier that morning. There were fresh wreathes and flowers placed around the memorial (seen in the opening photo.) Whereas we'd been having a good time, laughing, and generally enjoying ourselves on the trip so far, our visit to Baugnez was sobering. We went silent and began to read the names on the wall at the back of the memorial. (It's worth noting that the massacre actually took place across the road to the right of the memorial. See the next photo.)

Where the massacre took place, across the street and up from the memorial site.
(Google Streetview)

The men who were murdered by the SS were fellows probably not much different from us, though most of them were probably a lot younger as the three of us were all fairly senior sergeants with at least 15 years of service under our belts. But they had sworn the same oath that we had, saluted the same flag, came from the same sort of towns and cities that we came from.

We got to go home.

They didn't.

Seventy-three years ago, 84 American soldiers were murdered by the Nazis.***

Remember them...

• PVT Donald Bloom
• CPL Joseph A. Brozowski
• T/5 Samuel P. Burkett
• PFC L.M.Burney
• PFC Homer S.Carson
• PFC Robert Cohen
• T/5 John D. Collier
• PFC Howard C. Desch
• PVT William J. Dunbar
• CPL Carl B.Fitt
• PFC Donald P.Flack
• PFC Carl B. Frey
• SSGT Donald E.Geisler
• 1LT Carl R. Genthner
• CPL Sylvester V.Herchelroth
• 2LT Lloyd A.Iames
• CPL Ralph J.Indelicato
• CPL Raymond E.Lester
• T/4 Selmer H.Leu
• SGT Benjamin Lindt
• T/5 James E. Luers
• CPL Lawrence Martin
• 1LT Thomas E.McDermott
• CPL Halsey J.Miller
• CAPT Roger J.Mills
• PVT Keston E. Mullen
• 1LT John S. Munzinger
• PFC Thomas W. Oliver
• PFC Paul L.Paden
• PVT Peter R.Phillips
• PVT Stanley F. Piasecki
• CPL Carl H.Rullman
• T/5 Max Schwitzgold
• PVT Wayne L.Scott
• T/4 Irwin M.Sheets
• PVT John M.Shingler
• CPL Carl M.Stevens
• T/5 Luke S.Swartz
• PFC Elmer W.Wald
• T/5 Dayton E.Wusterbarth
• PFC Warren Davis
• PVT Walter J.Perkowski
• T/4 John M.Rupp Jr.
• T/5 Carl H.Blough
• PVT Paul R. Carr
• PFC John Klukavy
• PFC Richard B.Walker
• T/5 Charles R.Breon
• T/5 Howard W.Laufer
• SSGT John D.Osborne
• PFC John J.Clymire
• T/5 Charles F.Haines
• T/5 George R.Rosenfeld
• PFC Frederick Clark
• PVT James H. Coates
• PVT John H.Cobbler
• SGT Walter A.Franz
• 2LT Solomon S. Goffman
• PVT Samuel A.Hallman
• T/5 Wilson M.Jones Jr.
• CPL Oscar R.Jordan
• T/5 Alfred Lengyel Jr.
• T/3 James G.McGee
• TSGT William T.McGovern
• CPL David T.O'Grady
• PVT Gilbert R.Pittman
• 1LT Perry L.Reardon
• PVT Oscar Saylor
• SGT Robert J.Snyder
• SGT Alphonse J.Stabulis
• T/4 George B.Steffy
• T/5 Thomas F.Watt
• T/5 Vester H.Wiles
• T/4 Allen M.Lucas
• T/5 Robert L.McKinney
• CPL William H.Moore
• TSGT Paul G.Davidson
• PFC Charles E.Hall
• SGT Alfred Kinsman
• PFC David M.Murray
• PVT Elwood E.Thomas

Remember...





* A massacre of American POWs by Peiper's battle group took place here as well, on the same day but before the one at Baugnez. There was yet another on the 17th at Wereth, where 11 African-American soldiers were murdered.
** Joachim was Peiper's given name, he didn't like it as it sounded "too Jewish," so he preferred Jochen, which sounded more Aryan to him. Nazi bastard.
*** This list only has 81 names, I cannot find a better list, I got this one from here.