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Our Finest Hour
Our battalion succeeded in making the move secretly, helped by the weather,
which was cloudy and rainy with poor visibility. I was happy to find that Col Peach had
found a house with a roof for our CP. After six weeks in a tent in raw autumn weather, it
felt good to be dry and comparatively warm.
Fortunately for me, I was not involved in the infantry's crossing by boat before
daylight on November 9. However, we heard about it. The continuous rain was a mixed
curse: Not only did it soak the doughboys in the boats, but it also made the river rise so
that it was twice as wide, the current twice as fast, and the bank twice as muddy as usual.
There was trouble getting the boats across the soggy flat to the river, and even more
getting across the swollen, racing water, then getting oriented and organized on the far
bank. On the other hand, the rain also muffled sounds and blurred observation, so our
troops managed to surprise the enemy despite all the delays and difficulties. And
although exhausted from the crossing, they fought well enough to capture MaIling, Petite
Hettange, and Kerling and to end the day at the crest of the slope east of the Moselle.
With, I might add, a lot of help from us. As soon as our infantry was across and
had made contact with the enemy, surprise was gone, and our battalion could - and did -
fire most of the time. Ammunition was no longer rationed, and we still had Highchief,
plus Urban (our sister battalion, the 343rd), the 10th Armored Div Arty, and the 5th
Armored FA Group, all reinforcing our fires. In addition, there were perhaps a dozen
more battalions within range, which we could call upon when we needed them.
Provided, of course, that the telephone lines were all working. They were, most
of the time, on our side of the river. But until a bridge was put in successfully, there was
no way to lay wire to the infantry on the other side, and we had to rely on radio for
communication, including fire missions, from our FOs and LnOs.
But by and large, the crossing was as successful as could be expected, and that
night I made out a schedule of harassing and interdiction (H&I) fires for the night, went
upstairs and crawled into my sleeping bag. Don Thomson was the duty officer.
I woke up early, about 6:30, with a feeling that something was wrong. It was still
dark outside, but I realized that artillery was firing, and had been firing for some time. I
pulled on my shoes without tightening or tying the laces and flapped down the stairs.
When I arrived, I found Capt Thomson trying to fire our own battalion and call for fire
from half a dozen others at the same time. I stepped in and took part of the load off him,
but both of us continued to be fully employed for several hours. Doug Myers wanted to
relieve us one at a time so we could have some breakfast, but there really was no time to
explain what was going on so that he could take over. Someone did bring a stock-pot of
coffee up from the kitchen truck and filled cups for us, but it got cold before we could
find a free hand to hold the cups.
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