The Hurtgen

By Pvt Ian Murphy

Hello to everyone from Pvt. "Murph" MURPHY of the fighting 28th Division, I am starting to write this letter home to you somewhere in a Repple Depple outside of Paris, France. I’ll do my best to find time to finish it as we’ve just been told we’re moving towards the Seigfried line. Wherever that is..

Well it's not been so long since I wrote you all but once again I find myself with time on my hands and no place to go. The Army sure is a strange organization, it's always havin you "jump to it "and "take action forthwith " only to leave a guy sitting around on his butt for an age whilst some rear echelon pencil pusher decides where your special talents are most required. My special talents happen to be gettin thrown back on the line and me not so long ago having been injured.

Anyway what's the use in complaining, no one cares. I heard all about how people are doing real well for themselves back in the good Ole "US of A", getting rich on wartime contracts and wages. It's kind of disheartening for us guys over here in Europe when we read about it. Sure Patton and Ike say what a good job we are doing and how we are fighting in the name of freedom and the great Crusade and all that, I hope all this will be worth it in the long term?

I am sure you have heard of a place called the Hurtgen Forest by now? I read about it in Stars and Stripes so you must have too. I'm sure this letter will be censored but I'm going to write it anyway. I will tell you now what I can about my experiences at the Hurtgen, not maybe how they want you to hear it but hell, you're old pals of mine and you should hear about it from someone who was there. Please remember though if you choose to read it that it's just an account of events experienced by me and my unit and others may have seen it differently from us.

It started after I got assigned to the 28th Division over at this place called Hurtgen as a replacement. I was told most of the guys in this outfit were pretty untrained and command decided they needed to have their ranks filled out with some older experienced men. I arrived to be told I was on the line with a depleted squad run by a guy named Johnny COSTINO seconded by Cpl. Samuel HARRIS and a guy named Jack HARRIS (no relation). I thought to myself, "On the line?" "I only just got here!" But it seems Divisional HQ wanted to show the brass what the 28th could do and we were told it would be a piece of cake. Apparently the Germans were beat in this sector and their lines were held by a group of them Old Folks Grenadiers or whatever the hell they call themselves.

I arrived at the forward command post about 0800 on the morning of March 7th 1944 where I met up with my assigned squad who were in the process of drawing weapons and ammo from the supply sergeant. Sgt. COSTINO had arrived the day previous and had already received his instructions for deployment from the staff at the forward command post already set up in the woods. We were supposed to have been trucked to the lines but as usual being infantry, we marched. Well I can tell you our company was maybe 30 men or so and looking around I thought to myself things must be tough. The guys loooked as if they had been scraped together from every corner of liberated Europe.

Some of them looked pretty mean and experienced but others looked a bit younger and more fresh faced. I wondered to myself what we might be letting ourselves in for.

As we moved closer to the front lines the trees started to thin out a little and we came on a dirt road. Some joker from a rear echelon supply unit put up a nice reminder to us not to waste ammo, "Ha Ha." I thought that was bad enough until I saw the next sign which welcomed us to "The Death Factory." Holy cow what were we getting into here?

 

Oh, I forgot to mention, we had a guy from Stars and Stripes attached to the company, name of SHAGGERFORD or something like that. He is an official "War Correspondent" and as such a non-combatant he kept tellin us. I told him I hoped the German guys could read English through their gun sights! Maybe you might catch some of his pictures some time?

We deployed onto the line and were told straight away to form up for an attack. It seems that some german troops were occupying a bunker and had been playing hell with our guys. We had hold of a bazooka and it was our chance to use it. All the guys were crouched down behind an earthen bank tense and waiting to go, I was looking forward to getting a crack at the Germans again especially since I had last been wounded. The whistle blew in order to signal the start of the attack and we were off into the forest. Straight away I thought "Damn!" As we moved forwards we were being cut to ribbons by a dense undergrowth of briars and thorns that seemed to pull at you from every angle. The ground was very uneven and full of near invisible rabbit holes you could twist an ankle or worse in in a second. We passed the body of a dead GI, which must have been there for days, not a pretty sight. On we went- expecting for the Germans to open fire at any moment. Strangely though nothing happened, maybe they were gone? We of course had the element of surprise and we capitalized on it. As we neared this bunker I heard a whoosh followed by an almighty bang as the bazooka round went into the bunker. A direct hit! Whatever Germans were left there decided to up and leave it to us because the fight ended before it even started.

I could tell by looking around that this place was subject to some serious action, trees splintered and big holes in the ground all over from the artillery. We moved near to the knocked out bunker and were ordered to dig in, immediately. I was sharing a foxhole with Sgt. COSTINO and that guy SHAGGLEFORD. Across from us was Sam and Jack HARRIS, you could swear they were brothers because they seemed inseparable, it's kinda good the way they look out for each other (but they do argue like an old married couple sometimes). Between us we spent a good while making our little foxhole as deep and secure as we could. We found some large logs that were scattered about the forest floor fashioning them into an improvised bunker and then used broken tree boughs and leaves to try and camouflage it. All along our lines other guys were doing the same thing. It was lucky for us that we did because soon enough word was passed along the lines that out forward look outs had witnessed the German infantry making ready for an assault. It's almost impossible to describe what it feels like to be waiting for the enemy to attack, I lay in our foxhole peering into the gloom of the trees in front of us. My M1 was loaded and ready but my mouth was dry and every sense was straining to gather as much information as I could.

SHAGGLEFORD was busy preparing his photographic equipment and appeared oblivious to what might be about to happen.

I heard the cry "Incoming!" I thought to myself here goes... Whump, Whump, Whump, one after the other enemy artillery rounds landed in front of us. I tell you I near enough soiled my goddamn pants! I felt the ground shake before I heard the sound of the exploding shells. Mr SHAGGLEFORD suddenly found a close affinity with the earth and in that moment I thought he's not such a bad guy risking his self to tell our story.

It was time to get serious. I strained my eyes peering into the forest ahead of me. I sneaked a look to my left and right I saw the other guys were doing the same. You depend heavily on each other in this type of situation because we had no idea from which direction the attck might come. No soldier can be effective without the guys on either side of him all the way up and down the line being there with him. Sure enough after a short period of time had elapsed I could see what appeared to be movement ahead of me as the German troops moved up. I looked closely and I thought they looked a little too well equipped to be an old man unit! Mind you they seemed a bit casual about things as if it was a stroll they were on as opposed to an attack. The sound of good old US manufactured lead zinging its way through the air soon changed the German approach. We opened up with all we had and kept firing. Some guy had a burp gun and was blasting away to my right. I could hear the germans returning fire. The German soldiers K98 rifles make a queer "pop" noise when they shoot them. It's a very distinct and almost insignificant noise compared to all their other weapons which sound and are indeed, deadly. The attack soon petered out but as we would soon find out, this was just the begining. I could hear men calling for medical attention up and down the line, maybe the Germans had left but they had made their presence felt. Those medics sure were working hard, jeeps were braving the dirt tracks to collect wounded for transportation to the aid posts. I had a little nick myself in the jaw but it was just a splinter and they soon fixed me up.
Later on we were informed that the Colonel was not happy that "His boys!" were sitting in their foxholes and waiting for the Germans and as such we were informed that we were re-paying the Germans with a little attack of our own.

Extended lines were formed and we moved off as our Artillery sent forward a barrage to soften up the German defences. Huge explosions ripped the air and I saw more than one fireball in the sky. Moving next to a forest trail approaching a cross roads we made contact with the german troops. I don't mind admitting to you that your first reaction when fired upon is to go to ground, but the officers and NCO's were hollering at us "Keep Moving!" "Keep Moving!" So despite it all you do keep moving and don't ask me why that should be so. We kept on going on and managed to push the Germans off the crossroads but it was a tough fight. The so called "old men" were showing that they were not beaten yet! We secured the objective seeing off the remaining defenders with a few hand grenades. Having taken this crossroads if you could call two dirt tracks in the middle of a Forest such a thing we were ordered to pull out and return to our previous lines! Oh boy, what was the point of it all?

That was to be it for the day for us. Some guys were unfortunate enough to be staying in their foxholes for the night but we were withdrawn to a rear area and given a chance to re-organize. Now two things occurred for us back at the CP, and perhaps these are two of the best things a man can experience when he is far away from his country, home comforts and his kith and kin, Mail and Hot Chow ! Yes, we actually had a mailcall. Sgt. COSTINO had somehow managed to get his hands on a mailsack which had materialized addressed to all the men of the company. The names were called out and the packages and letters from home were gratefully taken up.

Many a smile appeared on the faces of the men as they read their news from near and far. Mr SHAGGERFORD received a picture and a letter from his dear old Mama (apparently anyway). He welled up a little because he said it reminded him of happier times. All the guys were grateful and we can say, "Please keep those letters and parcels comin’- it's greatly appreciated." Sadly some of the names called out were no longer with us and their letters were destined to return un-opened, to the their devoted senders.

After mail call I mangaed to find an unoccupied shelter tent nearby and crawled inside where I lay down for half an hour. Luckily for us though some hot chow had arrived and we lined up to get a share. It never ceases to amaze me how a hot meal can do wonders for a man's morale. Just as well because as I sat down to eat my stew the sky's opened and down came that godawful rain Europe seems to do so well. The ground was soaked enough without more rainfall. Regardless of this fact, it rained in spades on us poor GIs. I thought to myself what must it be like for those German guys. Were they too cursing the rain? Did they have shelter, mail from home and a hot meal? Lucky for us fires were not prohibited and soon enough a good blaze was got going and we stood around warming and drying ourselves by the heat. It was a strange sight, GIs moving around this fire with steam rising off their clothing and fresh rain falling all the time dodging the choking wood smoke that threatened to blind you as well.

Darkness had fallen and without much sign of the weather easing I just resigned myself to it all figuring it would get easier to bear if I just accepted the situation. I had some captured german beer secreted in my pack and I broke out the bottles, one for each man. Old Sgt COSTINO though came up trumps for us. He had a silly grin on his face which took a while to figure out and he was wandering around with his canteen held high saying "Mother's Recipe" "Mother's Recipe" I decided to taste some of this cordial as he described it and to my delight I found it quite agreeable. She must be a remarkable woman old Mother COSTINO.

And so the evening continued in very happy manner despite the rain and the mud and cold. You get a sense in situations like this that a guy should live for the moment and not think too hard about what has happened in the past and what might happen to him in the future. Old Sam further brightened the evening by reading aloud to us some of the comment's his sweetheart made to him in his letters from home. The men were most interested to listen and crowded around Sam hanging on his every sentence! Love, is such a beautiful thing we all agreed. And so we continued until we had polished off the special recipe and the last of our suds. It was that time when tiredness draws you reluctantly into your bedroll and you try and sleep in the dark damp cold listening to the rain beating off the canvas roof of your shelter.
I slept fitfully , and for some crazy reason dreamt about an old buddy of mine named Touretti, we were in bar some place and ended up gettin involved with some night fighters who hung out there! I must remember to seek confessional from Father Jack Hackett at St Mary's upon my return to the States.

Sorry Maw.

Anyhows, enough of such matters, the war was waitin for us to return and return we would the next morning after a quick breakfast meal of oatbran and coffee. We moved back into to our old positions to find not much had changed overnight. Apparently some German prisoners had been caught by four of our guys the previous night and were being interrogated by the staff officers back at Regimental HQ. I knew nothing of this, only that I was right back to square one in my little foxhole. It was decided (again by our Colonel) that today we would send out four man patrols whose job was to seek out the enemy but withdraw on finding him rather than engage in a fight. Dutifully we formed up and moved out.

My senses were keen and I have to say I found myself enjoying the experience of being in the early morning sunshine in the forest listening to birds singing, you know, the whole nine yards, “Zippity Do Dah” and all of that! We were not out for a stroll though and I don't think that movie ever made it to krautland. After about twenty minutes we were stopped and laying low, about 100 yards in front of me I saw two German troops walking across from us. Initially they did not see me, I signalled to Johnny next to me and then went to take up aim. Too late! They had spotted us and it was now which man could aim and fire first! My first round never went off and my weapon jammed, of all the luck. Turns out, to my relief we both appeared to have problems. Both patrols engaged in long distance five minute shooting match with no casualties on either side, apparently, before we decided to haul our butt's out of there and get back to friendly lines.

Back in our foxhole we lay about shooting the breeze making little improvements here and there. Old SHAGGLEFORD read aloud some of his mail for us and turns out he works as a Private Dick with the Fearless Detective Agency back in the Stateside. A real live detective in my foxhole, Grandpa JONES will like that. The morning peace was broken soon enough by yet another artillery barrage which ran up and down the front leaving clouds of smoke and debris drifting silently through the trees. It's a most eerie sight especially when you think that soon enough men will come through that smoke with the intention of trying to take you out of the equation so to speak. And come they did, the Germans are quick learners and they were no longer strolling along as they appeared to be the day previous. They were moving rapidly and taking advantage of cover. I peered over the sights of my M1 waiting for my chance. Sure enough that chance came and two enemy went down, whether I killed them or just wounded them I will never know. All along our lines the sound of gunfire rang out leaving your ears ringing. Urgent word was passed along the line that the enemy were attempting to outflank us, I tell you those Germans are specialists at that! Always looking to cut you off and then surround you. Turns out they did not manage to break through our lines but before we could congratulate ourselves we were directed to make our way forthwith to the right flank and re-enforce the guys positioned there as they had taken some heavy casualties. As we arrived I saw the men were desperately trying to hold a large number of German troops back. One 1st Sgt- Guy Muller. was blasting away with his pistol since he had run out of ammo for his rifle! If only we had a .30 cal I thought to myself. A medic was pulling a wounded guy out of his foxhole and I ran to this point in order to take over the position. Seems we arrived in the nick of time though because the Germans were falling back no doubt due to the ferocity of the defence.

By now we were all pretty low on ammo and that sign I had laughed about the day before was starting to haunt me. We were all kinda tired and feeling like we had done enough but yet again we were ordered into the attack! The guys formed up but there was a tense air about because most of us knew our luck was running out. This time there was no subtlety involved, we were going straight down the dirt track and were told to seek out the enemy and destroy him. Great! The air shook again as loud explosions preceded our attack, seems strange but all that seems to do is wake the Germans up and let them know we are coming. I just knew as we walked down that road they would be watching and waiting for us to appear. I recalled that not an hour or so earlier I had been looking down my rifle from the safety of my foxhole at them, this time I was on the receiving end. We did not have to wait long for the action to start.

The air rippled with the sound of machine gun and rifle fire, grenades were tossed and exploded. "Holy Cow" I thought to myself - I will never get through this one. Up they went. Sam, Johnny, Jack and all the other brave boys! Mr SHAGGERFORD was there with his newsreel camera but soon it all went badly wrong for us. I was near to the rear and I will be honest when I saw our guys dropping like flies and it occurred to me that maybe I ought to get the hell outa there before I got hit. I was stopped by a jeep that had accompanied our attack and looked up the road. The firing was dying down and some German soldiers were out onto the road. I fired off my last remaining rounds at them but I realised there was nothing else I could do except, surrender.

I approached this big German Feldwebel with my hands held high in the air. He motioned towards me with his machine pistol and his comrade grabbed hold of me and pushed me to my knees with the butt of his rifle in order to search me. I was not alone though. Out of the clearing gloom I saw Cpl. TYLER being led by a medic up the road. He looked pretty beat up and was clutching his chest where a large blood soaked bandage covered his side. Slowly the Germans rounded us Yanks up and we were assembled onto the road. As they lined us up to be marched away to their rear I looked at the German guards and wondered about what they thought about it all.

Did they enjoy it? Or were like us, just doing what they too thought was their duty? I felt ashamed of myself as we marched along, hands held over our heads but hear me brother when a man is stood next to you with a loaded weapon and the means to use it all thoughts of rushing him or trying to overpower him leave your mind. It sure is not a nice feeling to be a POW but then again neither is being dead for no gain either I guess?

And so that seems my friend to have been what the Hurtgen was all about for us anyway, one pointless attack after another only for the Germans to do the same back to us. I'm no general but even I was wondering to myself just why were we fighting for this forest anyway. Why not just go round it the way the Germans do? I do know that the guys of the 28th have nothing to be ashamed of because we lived up to our unit description and then some.

You probably guessed by now that I am concluding this letter to you from a POW camp somewhere in Germany but I hope to somehow get back to you all soon. "28th, ROLL ON!"


OH I almost forgot to tell you, apparently due to the rapid turnover in manpower in the ETO I find that the Army has decided to make me a PFC! Wonder will they back date my pay to allow for time spent in captivity?

Take care of yourselves.

Your friend

PFC Pat “Murph” MURPHY