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The Domain of the Erl King
"Look," said Bixby, "these idiots we're relieving have been shooting up the whole
forest! I've got nothing against these trees. So let's let the woods alone and save our
ammunition for the krauts. "
I got in the last word. "Yes, sir." Then I added, "But shouldn't we fire some of
what they've been doing, so Jerry won't know he's up against another outfit?"
The general made an uncouth sound with lips and tongue and departed.
I cut my schedule of fires to a normal night's H & I fire and hoped for the best.
Anyhow, the cannoneers got a little more needed sleep this way. And I did remember to
fire occasionally at the five-way intersection. If the Germans noticed the difference, they
didn't tell us. They must have needed sleep too.
Two more days passed, days of the same unearthly fog giving an air of unreality
to the whole landscape. Where the ground was open, the snowy slope curved upward
until it merged imperceptibly into the overcast sky without a suggestion of horizon. I
began to wonder if Luxembourg was a part of the earth as I knew it. Might we have
wandered off into a new and different dimension, one of those parallel universes from
science fiction?
But then on January 9th, I was brought back to reality, or at least to work. The
90th Division went into action, attacking between the 35th and 26th Divisions and
making modest gains over open ground and forest land, both covered by snow boot-top
high. The 359th Infantry objective was that same five-point road intersection we had been
firing at for three days, and they got about half-way there on that first day.
Naturally they needed artillery fire, and we gave it to them throughout the day.
We were glad to be back in support of our partner regiment, and after their experience at
the Saar, I know that they were glad to have us.
Late in the afternoon I was talking on the telephone to Capt Richter, who was at
the CP of the 3rd Battalion (Unique Blue). He wanted me to plan some defensive fires
along their front lines in case they were attacked during the night and needed them. He
sounded tired and preoccupied, as could have been expected. But suddenly he said
something totally unexpected: "Excuse me, Bob, I've got to duck. Here come some of
them damn nebelwerfers."
When I recovered from the shock of hearing Rick,' of all people, talk about
ducking, I decided that even he knew better than to stand up to anything as notoriously
inaccurate and unpredictable as the German rocket launchers they called nebelwerfers
and we called "screaming meemies."
After a decent interval to allow for ducking, I rang him back, but got no answer.
The Upstart operator said the line rang "open," that is, cut or broken. Probably by the
nebelwerfer fire.
I tried again, later, but too late. I never spoke to him again, and he never got to be
an Ordnance officer. He was dead.
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