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Chapter 5
The Glamour War
You might think that after you fight your way to the top of a hill, fighting
downhill on the far side should be a cinch. After all, can't you see where you're going?
Anyhow that's what I expected.
Wrong, and wrong! The far side of Hill 122 was a gentler slope, and you couldn't
see down it because it was covered by a dense forest of trees and brambly undergrowth. It
was even harder to fight through than the hedgerows, because it was solid hedge with no
fields between. It was called Le Foret de Mont Castre, and it didn't look the least bit like
the German forests: neat rows of coniferous trees with clear needle-covered ground at
their feet. It was more like a jungle, or at least what I imagine a jungle is.
The infantry did press through, fighting the vegetation as well as the enemy, and
right behind them came the engineer bulldozers knocking down small trees and pushing
aside the underbrush to clear crude paths so that vehicles with heavy weapons,
ammunition, telephone wire, food, and other necessities could get through.
I used one of these paths to drive up close and find out what was going on. It was
slow and bumpy going: the dozers had leveled all the stumps to the same height,
regardless of irregularities in the ground underneath. We did not break an axle or even
blow a tire, but the jeep jolted badly.
As I started back, I was asked to deliver a prisoner of war back to the regimental
S-2 for interrogation. Normally, prisoners were herded back in bunches, guarded by
infantrymen happy to get away from the front for a few hours, but this was an officer, and
they thought he might know something of value.
He didn't look like much of an officer: he was a young lieutenant in a crumpled
gray uniform, he needed a shave (so did I), and his eyes were unfocused. He looked
hopeless, defeated. All PsW did.
I had never guarded a prisoner before, and had little idea of what I was doing.
I solved the problem by making him sit on the hood of the jeep, while I sat in my
usual seat with my pistol out of its holster and on my lap. I started out having him clasp
his hands behind his head in approved PW style, but it was soon evident that if I wanted
to keep him on the vehicle, I'd have to let him hold on with both hands. I'm sure he didn't
have any intention of escaping anyhow: armed GIs all along the pathway were jeering at
him, and he must have felt as hopeless as he looked.
I was relieved when we got on a real road, and even more so when I had turned
him over to Major Boers, the regimental S-2.
Our infantry did get through the forest, and I expect it was partly because the
Germans, having lost their strong position on the hilltop, were trying to make as slow and
orderly a withdrawal as they could. At any rate, we did break through and continued
against scattered resistance to the Seves River, where the enemy took another stand.
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