by Colin Gee
The bravery of our troops in their assault was not unlike the bravery I witnessed in the counter-attack that pressed us so close. The only differences really being the directions they charged and the uniforms worn.
Richard, my officer friend, has been taken to the rear, grievously wounded.
He led his men forward and then back, only to fall in defence of our start position. I can only wish him well, but I fear the worst for this brave soldier.
Around me there are gaps, holes left by the absence of comrades who have been struck down in an action that has covered nearly two miles and yet has gained no ground.
The losses, however, are very real and, if it were not for the anti-tank gunners who so bravely stuck to their posts, the enemy tanks might well have overrun us.
Before I sat down to write this report, I sought out some familiar faces. Some I found, others were conspicuous by their absence.
I did not feel able to ask the survivors as to the whereabouts of the missing.
There is something about these men, something I have noticed before, but never quite as strongly as I do now.
It is in their eyes, a look that speaks of faraway places and not of the present, either in time or location.
An unblinking stare that holds no joy, no fear, no love, no hate; it holds nothing but the emptiness that combat brings.
The men sat around me, silently smoking, have it.
The NCOs moving round, organising the men, have it.
The officers, trying to bring order out of the chaos, have it.
The corpses, American and Russian alike, have it.
But, at least for the dead, the horrors of war are over.
The survivors must continue to have the experience until war’s end.
The European theatre it is called, suggesting a well-orchestrated and rehearsed public presentation with given processes and endings, fit for public consumption, where the ending brings a satisfactory and entertaining climax, drawing applause from all who witness it.
Of course, nothing could be further from the truth.
When I first came to the European theatre, I saw, naively of course, a great crusade against the belligerent forces of Bolshevism.
The closer I have come to the front, I have gained greater understanding of this violent process that we so readily resort to, often in preference to sitting down and resolving our differences with negotiations and goodwill; the process we call War.
Admittedly, we did not start this war, but then, neither did most of the people who stand on the other side of No Man’s land.
Wars are started, most often, by those who sit in comfort and beat their breasts at some perceived slight or aggression, before issuing a rallying call and dispatching the youth of the day to do their dirty work for them, whilst they remain in safety and comfort many miles from danger.
Perhaps, when those who decide to go to war are the ones who stand in the front line of an army, then we may see less dying and more trying.
I am convinced that those who have died, or are returning home broken, would agree.
Perhaps, when this ghastly mess is over, we can begin to have a world where war is seen for the abhorrence it is; no glory, no honour, no wondrous adventure, just a gutter affair in which we visit awfulness upon men who could so easily be our brothers and, with whom, in the main, we have no disagreement or dislike.
We can but pray.
John Thornton-Smith
(Correspondent)
[Author’s note. The attack was carried out on the village of Rottelsheim, and was part of the major assault upon Brumath and its environs. 264th US Infantry Regiment was tasked with taking the route through Rottelsheim, in order to prevent reinforcements moving south. The Soviets had anticipated this move and sent extra forces, units that bolstered the defence to the extent that the rest of the 264th’s units failed to make their objectives.
1st Battalion made Rottelsheim, possibly due to the late arrival of the Soviet bolstering force, which force then counter-attacked and pushed the GIs all the way back to the 1st Battalion’s start line.
The Soviet forces involved belonged to the 15th Mechanised Corps, the unit mainly credited with arriving on the field at Brumath in time to halt the US offensive.
I have been unable to establish which units comprised the original defenders of Rottelsheim, so don’t want to confuse the situation by taking an uninformed guess.
The after-action report of 1st Battalion, 264th Regiment, reveals horrendous losses which, when combined with the strains of the previously days of combat, were to make the unit combat-ineffective and in need of withdrawal.
The Battalion lost exactly one hundred men KIA, one hundred and seventeen WIA, and six men MIA. The six MIA were located during road widening works to the north of Rottelsheim during the summer of 2005. It appears likely that they had been captured and executed.
Soviet casualties are estimated at three-hundred plus.
2nd Lieutenant Richard G Flores lost both his right leg and right arm during the defence of their positions. He survived the war.
An investigation was launched as to why expected air support did not arrive, and the blame was placed on an air-controller who, without the necessary authority, sent the supporting unit elsewhere.]
With the United States Army, somewhere in Eastern France, 12:33am, 8th April, 1946.
Dear Reader,
The day has brought no renewed fighting.
It seems both sides have battered each other into a stupor and now pause for breath.
We are to be relieved, news that brought surprisingly little reaction amongst the men here.
Everywhere I go, there is a low hubbub of whispered conversations, but there is nothing of the banter and exchanges that filled the hours before yesterday’s attack.
Soon we will be gone from this place, so perhaps there is no surprise that, when the big NCO calls for volunteers for a patrol, there are none.
Men are ordered to the duty, and they grumble, but still rise and prepare to go out into No Man’s Land once more.
The pistol that I picked up yesterday is now mine to keep, complete with an old leather holster tossed to me by the same NCO who has permitted me to accompany the small patrol. A sign of acceptance from the men who I have come to think of as friends?
I will compose my last front line report upon my return.
John Thornton-Smith
(Correspondent)
Dear Reader,
Our patrol has returned, but not without incident, and strange incident at that.
As suspected, the Soviet forces have pulled back a little and confine themselves to the village, leaving the outlying areas free of their presence.
We proceeded on orders, and moved quietly around, checking buildings and natural defensive points, all so that we can hand over to our relief and arm them with the best knowledge available.
Near the end of our patrol, three ragged men alarmed us as they emerged from a ruined set of buildings, shouting, their hands raised to indicate no weapons.
My veterans hit the ground and the trio were challenged by Sergeant Bill, the mission commander.
Beckoning them forward, the three ragged men closed on our patrol, details becoming clearer the closer they came.
Beside me, I heard a muttered oath as a long-service corporal saw things he recognised and, I am certain, never expected to see again.
Sergeant Bill rose to meet the three and found that one had sufficient English to make himself understood. As the conversation continued, the sight of SS uniforms made many a trigger finger itchy.
In short order, Sergeant Bill organised an escort for two of the men, whilst the one who spoke English took his leave. It seemed an emotional goodbye, but Bill soon cut it short.
We returned to the front positions and our new arrivals were taken away.
Just over an hour later, I now find myself having to pack away my typewriter, as the relief company has arrived and we can make our way back
to an area where we can be safe and sleep will not be interrupted.
My war is run, and I only hope that I never again experience anything that it has to offer. The sights and sounds that have assailed me these last few days will stay with me for all my days.
There is no glory in death, of that I am convinced.
From this day forward, I will concentrate on enjoying everything life has to offer, come what may.
John Thornton-Smith
(Correspondent)
[Author’s note. The failed assault on Brumath marked the high-water mark of the attacks in that area, although elsewhere, some successes were still realized. The presence of forces dedicated to the Soviet’s own plans of attack undoubtedly meant that US 6th Army had a harder time than some others.
The relieving unit was from the 263rd Regiment, who were in turn replaced three days later, allowing the entire 66th to recuperate behind the lines.
Perhaps the strangest part of the last day’s activities was the surrender of the two men who emerged from the shattered Buildings.
According to the report submitted by Sergeant William J Brown, the two ex-SS men were apparently members of the Foreign Legion who had been left behind during the previous battles.
The senior officer, whilst dressed in German combat gear, certainly bore insignia and rank markings that could have been French in origin, but it was the presence of German gallantry medals alongside a Silver Star that most drew his eye.
Without a German speaker in the unit, Brown could not get further information, but he ensured the two were properly treated and sent back to the rear echelon.
The officer in question was eventually identified as Rolf Uhlmann.]
With the United States Army, somewhere in Eastern France, 12:33am, 11th April, 1946.
Dear Reader,
I had expected some immediate relief from the horrors of war, but they have not been forthcoming, rather the memories have become clearer and more horrible with the passing of time.
My dreams have become nightmares, and my nights have become broken by visions of men now dead, or dismembered, or missing.
I awake from my tortured sleep imagining the sights and smells of battle and its aftermath.
How must it be for those who have experienced the hardships and violence of combat for so much longer than I?
Around me, the voices have returned but the stares are still there.
I have seen men throw themselves to the ground in fear when a bin is dropped, men who have experienced the heights of hardship in the presence of the enemy cowed by a simple sharp noise.
A Corporal, much respected by his men, wet himself in terror when a salute was fired over a fallen soldier’s grave.
Three of our comrades have not stayed with us, their tears and broken minds ensuring that they are taken to a place where they can be better repaired and cared for.
We are told to expect at least eight days more in this camp, where the US Army has tried to lay on every convenience and entertainment to help these weary boys recover.
Talk is that our part of the offensive is to be halted, and our successes held, whilst other units elsewhere take up the running.
There are no cheers at the news, for we all know that the Russian is not yet beaten, and there will be great hardship ahead.
My time with these fighting men is done, and I will be leaving them to their rest and recuperation first thing tomorrow.
I will miss them all, and I thank them for their companionship and acceptance.
Let us hope and pray that this hideous game called war is soon ended and these young men made safe again by its absence.
On your behalf, dear reader, I wish them well and that they will all soon be back across the Atlantic and safe in the bosom of their loved ones.
My future path is now clearer.
Rather than report on the horrors of war, I will now dedicate my life to working against the whole futile process that throws our young men against each other, for I never wish to experience, nor would wish the generations ahead to experience, this pointless bestial charnel house again.
John Thornton-Smith
(Correspondent)
[Author’s note. JTS left the rest camp at Saverne, in company with two men from other units. The three were never seen again, and their disappearance is a mystery to this day. There was some partisan activity behind the lines, but communist attacks were ineffective, as well as few and far between, as the groups were progressively culled by effective ‘behind the lines’ policing.
One rumour that surfaced is that a vehicle was possibly seen crashing into the Saar near Imling. There is no evidence that this was ever followed up, or indeed, happened.
In July 1996, a street market stall in Maastricht offered for sale a battered old Corona typewriter in its case.
The purchaser discovered all of Thornton-Smith’s correspondence within the case pocket. The Dutch national donated both the typewriter and letters to the ‘Het Persmuseum’ in Amsterdam, Holland, where they can be viewed today.
My thanks to the museum’s director and staff for granting me access and permission to copy the originals exactly. I should state that neither machine nor paperwork showed any signs of water damage.]
12th to 20th April 1946, Area of operations for the US Sixth Army Group, Germany.
Lieutenant General Patch continued to drive his Seventh Army units forward, successfully linking up with British Fifteenth Army Group early on in the attack.
Brumath fell on the 13th April, after bitter fighting that saw the 76th US Infantry Division shattered, and CCB of 9th US Armored badly mauled.
The loss of Brumath brought about a small concertina effect, resulting in an American surge that took units to the shores of the Rhine at Erstein, Goldscheuer, Kehl, and Rheinmunster, and provided a valuable, but small, bridgehead across the important watercourse, centred around Rheinau.
General Patch pushed both the 9th US Infantry and 9th US Armored at the bridgehead, and they successfully held against severe counter-attacks between the 15th and 18th March, when the Soviets admitted defeat and reformed their line some distance back.
The 66th US Infantry Division, positioned in and around Wissenbourg and Lauterbourg threw back a large assault on 17th March. The Soviet infantry and tanks attacked from first light to sunset, suffering huge losses, but rendering the 66th combat-ineffective for some time to come.
A relieving assault by an adhoc task force from US XV Corps eventually turned the northern flank of the Soviet forces, causing them to quit the field.
On 20th April, two major US thrusts were finally halted. The southern attack took the tanks and infantry of US IV Corps to the outskirts of Memmingen, where 1st US Armored Division and 3rd US Infantry Division ground to a halt in the face of fanatical Soviet resistance.
The northern attack, in tandem with units of US 12th Army Group, came up 10 miles short of Sinsheim before intricate Soviet defences halted the attempts of a reinforced US XV Corps, resulting in the 6th Argentinian Division and 2nd Uruguayan Infantry Brigade being withdrawn from front-line service after sustaining heavy casualties in two days of cruel fighting.
Seconded from SAFFEC, both formations fought hard and well, ensuring that SAFFEC would be given more responsibility by Allied generals, and full respect by its previous dubious enemy.
After looking at his options, Lieutenant General Jacob Devers contacted Eisenhower, informing him that the 6th Army Group could go no further.
The person who says it cannot be done should not interrupt the person who is doing it.
Chinese proverb
Chapter 143 - THE FIRST
1558 hrs hrs, Tuesday, 26th March 1946, Ahlen, Germany.
The main attack had rolled through Hamm like a hot knife through butter, the Soviet defence, such as it was, swept aside in a burst of artillery and a rapid advance of panzers and panzer-grenadieres.
The weight of the German I Korps’ attack had been applied by the 1st Panzer-Grenadi
ere Division, which lay in front of Beckum, held up by a ferocious defence.
I Corps command ordered 1st Panzer-Grenadiere to orient towards the left flank, where the division again started to make progress, although not without some danger, as the rear was left exposed to a Soviet held position at Ahlen.
To counter this problem, a Kampfgruppe, mainly drawn from the 266th Infanterie Division, was sent forward to encircle and reduce the enemy pocket.
Fig# 142 – Kampfgruppe Bremer.
Oberleutnant Baron Werner Von Scharf-Falkenberg watched as the 105mm leFH howitzers peddled their trade, dropping shells in and around the enemy positions in front of Ahlen.
Enemy counter-fire was ineffective, a handful of casualties being caused by mortar fire before the guns were shifted and the threat silenced.
Bringing his binoculars to his eyes again, a fourth examination of his line of attack brought no additional information or relief; the difficulties were obvious.
His battalion’s advance would generally be centred on Route 671, with two watercourses to traverse before the unit could deploy into Ahlen proper.
Each of the battalions had two STUG SP guns attached, with the remaining four held in reserve, along with the Pionieres and both battalion’s panzer-jager companies.
The Battalion commander gave the order, and 3rd Battalion moved forward.
Fig# 143 - Town of Ahlen
1632 hrs, Tuesday, 26th March 1946, two hundred metres from the Werse River, Ahlen, Germany.
Von Scarf had been given extra troops from the Machine-Gun Platoon, Battalion supply train, and a short platoon of men leavened from other Battalion units. As he finished organising his force, the sounds of wounded men screaming out their last few seconds on this earth surrounded the assault group.
