Behind Enemy Lines

By Steven Blair Wheeler

On December 19th, 1944, two regiments of the US 106th Infantry Division were captured by Hitler's surprise winter offensive. But not all of the men in those units surrendered. A month later, with the Battle of the Bulge winding down and the Nazis pushed back into Germany, GIs began hearing stories. Weeks after the main fighting pushed west of the area of St. Vith, Belgium, battles continues in the nearby forest.
Civilians insisted that in the midst of the German army, some American soldiers carried on the war behind enemy lines.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steven Blair Wheeler
• Release date: Feb 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9780981764092

Steven Blair Wheeler

Steve Wheeler was born in Blue Mountain Lake in New York State’s Adirondak Mountains. He attended grammar schools in Baldwinsville, New York, and graduated from Solvay High School. Not ready to face college, he enlisted in the army and requested posting to West Germany. He served three years as a grunt in the 1/54th mechanized infantry, 1st Armored Division before transferring to a mobile nuclear missile unit. Wheeler’s military experiences and travels in Europe sharpened his passion for history. After declining offers to re-enlist, Wheeler emigrated to Portland, Oregon and graduated with a Bachelor of Arts in English Literature.Abiding interest in military history led to Steve’s first novel. Based on actual events, Still In The Woods is a trilogy that tells the story of a group of American soldiers who become surrounded during the opening days of the Battle of the Bulge. They rally to a determined officer and continue to fight while eluding capture in the frozen hills and forests behind enemy lines.Steve's latest novel is The Second American Civil War. As divided as America is nowadays, what might a second American civil war look like? How would it appear to people on either side? Suppose there were two levels of conflict, and a national broadcast reporter discovered a deadly covert war between factions of the super rich?

Book preview

Behind Enemy Lines

Part II of

Still in the Woods

A Novel of the Battle of the Bulge

by

Steven Blair Wheeler

Copyright © 2016 by Steven Blair Wheeler

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

For information, address:

www.stevenblairwheeler.com

Cover design by Jeanne E. Galick Graphic Design

First Edition

ISBN: 978-0-9817640-9-2

Printed in the United States of America

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This book is dedicated to

1st Lieutenant Eric F. Wood, Jr.

and the brave men who fought with him

in the winter of 1944–1945.

May their memory never fade.

Their spirit lives forever.

Prologue

December 19th, 1944, saw the largest capitulation of American troops in World War II since the fall of Bataan. Two entire regiments of the 106th Infantry Division surrendered on the Belgian-German border after being surrounded by Hitler’s surprise winter offensive, Wacht am Rheine.

No one knows the exact number of Americans who surrendered that day, but historians agree that a reasonable estimate is 7,000.

Also unknown is how many Americans tried to evade capture. The historical record documents that the surrender orders included permission for small groups to try to slip away. Historians mention, with scarce details, that several groups did make it through to St. Vith, Belgium, before it was captured on December 21st. History books also contain reports of GIs having been sheltered by civilians until the Germans were pushed back across the border.

But in late January, 1945, as American troops reestablished control of demolished St. Vith and the surrounding area, Belgians who had survived in their homes throughout the campaign related a different story.

Many civilians told their liberators that, long after the main fighting had moved west, they had heard battles in the nearby forest.

They insisted that, in the midst of the German army, some GIs had continued fighting behind enemy lines.

Chapter 1

December 19th, Part I

On a forested hill near the eastern Belgian frontier, artillery rumbled in the distance, but none screeched menacingly overhead to crash nearby. The ground did not quake as raw holes were torn in the frozen earth. Men were not shredded by searing steel. No flares float-ed in the night sky; no tracers zipped through the darkness seeking flesh. While tanks and infantry from the surprise Nazi offensive flooded around this hill on the road to St. Vith, on the hill itself, the tumult of battle was distant.

The immediate struggle was against the cold—and for mastery of a mind overborne by fear, shock, and sudden, violent death—and by the enormity of firsthand experience with war.

For two years, First Lieutenant Arthur Hill and his artillery battery had trained for war. They had fed hundreds of rounds into their howitzers on firing ranges in the States to prepare for their entry into battle. Arthur felt deep pride in the way they had risen to the task. The other day, a gun crew had knocked out a Kraut tank by direct sighting. But the battery had lost men killed by enemy shells, including their commanding officer, Reggie Winthorpe. It would be hard to write to their families, but their relatives deserved to know that their son, husband, or brother had died as a soldier fighting the enemy.

The men of Battery A had held their ground, but the Nazis had broken through the cavalry roadblocks to the north and the over-stretched infantry to the south. With the enemy driving to cut their line of retreat, Division finally ordered the battery to pull back to St. Vith. If Arthur had not stubbornly insisted on saving a mired gun, he’d be with them now. Instead, he’d sent the rest of the battery ahead and stayed to help preserve one howitzer. When they had hit the road twenty minutes behind the battery, the town of Schoenberg and its bridge across the river Our was falling to the enemy. Arthur and the crew had just made it to the western end of town when a Kraut tank hove into the road ahead. The men bailed out of the truck as a tank shell demolished it. With Nazi infantry closing in to bag them, Arthur had sprinted uphill under fire, and dove into the forest.

Hiking west through the woods, he’d seen other GIs evading the enemy, including some who were squatting in a forest cabin. Private David Solonsky, a radio repairman from the 106th Division Signals Company, had joined him. They had spent most of that night with a Belgian farm family before making a fresh attempt to reach St. Vith before it fell to the Germans. As Arthur had feared, the road between Schoenberg and St. Vith was crammed with the enemy.

They had met more GIs who hoped to get through to St. Vith, but the massing enemy troops set the odds against them. It was tough for them to hear the constant stream of shells flying overhead and boom-ing around St. Vith, knowing that the town was holding out, but with no way to get there. They had waited until nightfall, watched for a break in the enemy traffic, wanting to cross the road to swing around and enter St. Vith from the southwest. Some of the men who joined Arthur were services-and-supply personnel untrained in com-bat skills. While approaching the road, a supply clerk had made too much noise, and the enemy had opened fire. Tony Niska, a cavalry-man, was badly wounded.

After scrambling away from the road, the rear-echelon rangers had decided that the situation was hopeless and wanted to give up. Arthur had not been sorry to see them go, especially because they’d carried Tony Niska with them. He hoped Niska was already in a German aid station. And he hoped that if the men who surrendered were asked about other Americans in the woods, they would keep their mouths shut.

Even if they did say something, he told himself, the Krauts probably couldn’t care less about a few stray GIs up here.

He adjusted his map-case-turned-pillow and pulled the blanket close, wanting to sleep. It had been a long, trying day. Wearing long johns, two pairs of socks, boots and galoshes, two pairs of pants, two shirts, a sweater his wife Deborah had sent him, a field jacket and overcoat, gloves, and his GI beanie with his muffler drawn over his head, Arthur was still freezing.

A soft snore made him look to see whether the man on guard had fallen asleep. David Solonsky was sitting with his back against a tree, his young face lit by the fire, toasting the end of a stick. He lifted the stick into the air, and the red glowing end made a figure eight in the darkness.

Dave is a good guy, a good soldier. So is Staff Sergeant Randolph Corcoran, and his armored-car crewmen Corporal Pete Higgins and PFC Dominic DeLuccia.

Their driver had been Tony Niska. There were two other armored cavalrymen. One was a cook whose name was Lensen—Corporal T Arnold Lensen—a big Swede from Wisconsin. The other was PFC Timothy Gauge, whom Lensen called Slim. There was also one of the supply men who had decided not to give up: Private Tony Corno.

Before turning in, they’d decided that they’d lost the race to St. Vith. The farce at the road had finally proven it. They’d all agreed to hold out behind the lines. With luck, Arthur’d said, the Krauts would be halted at St. Vith, and the Army would kick them back into Ger-many in a week or so. He’d said they could stay in the forest and let the Army come to them. They might investigate the cabin he’d seen, and then there was the abandonded supply dump that Corno had told them about. Arthur planned to raid it.

But for the moment, he kept that to himself.

He turned his thoughts to home and Deborah. She’d be decorat-ing the house for Christmas. She’ll have the tree up and have used the ladder to put the star on top. Deborah’s very capable. I’ll bet she got it on straight, too. Little Linda’s old enough to understand that something special is happening. What would she think of having a tree in the house? Deborah would make it magical ...

A German buzz bomb sputtered overhead.

At dawn, the men brushed snow from themselves, stamped their feet, and worked cold muscles to get circulation moving. They built up the fire and took stock of their food supply. Slim Gauge and Arnold Lensen brought out twelve K rations and twelve D bars. Tony Corno had a can of hash and a can of crackers and cheese. Dave Solonsky had two sticks of chewing gum. That was it. Since Lensen was a cook, Arthur placed him in charge of the food.

With shells moaning through the sky and muted explosions rumbling and booming, Pete Higgins, Dom DeLuccia, and Dave Solonsky gathered wood and stoked the fire. Slim brewed coffee, and Lensen shared out the food. Each man would get one K ration of hash, spam, or ham and eggs; crackers with cheese or jam; a small packet of chewing gum or candies; three cigarettes; a pack of toilet paper; and a D bar.

Arthur and Sergeant Corky Corcoran studied the maps. We must be here. Arthur pointed to a particular hill in the jumble that formed the area. Here’s the road to the south, and here’s the road where we met yesterday. This one here—he traced a line—runs from the Schoenberg road to Meyerode. So does this one from Atzerath.

Meyerode’s where you met the Belgian farmer?

Right. Further east, I think this road also winds up in Meyerode.

Corky said, It goes up out of Heuem, where we lost our car.

Arthur pointed to his GI topographic map. Then, east another mile or so, there’s this road ... I don’t know where that one goes. The northern edge of the GI map ended not far above the Schoenberg-St. Vith road. He checked the highway map that the Belgians had given him. Must be this place here: Herresbach. Anyway, that’s four roads through the forest, three going to Meyerode. And between all of them are dirt roads, logging trails, firebreaks ...

Arthur was almost talking to himself. What we need is a good place to set up camp that’s not too close to a road, but is close to water. We’ll need room for all of us and whoever else may join up.

Lensen handed them steaming cans of food. While they ate, Arthur had to let go of his frustration over not having the next GI map sheet to the north. The US Army topographic sheet showed good detail, and the next sheet to the north would cover the forest where he planned to operate.

Maybe we can capture a Kraut map? he thought. He ate warm eggs and ham, looking at the Belgian highway map. It depicted the entire country and therefore showed few details. The forest they were in covered an area about four miles across at its widest east-to-west and about six miles running generally northeast to southwest. He figured the terrain would be like that shown in the topo map: a jumble of hills and ridges cut by streams. The four roads through the forest generally followed streams that ran down to the Our River in the south. To the north, the highway map showed the Amblﾏve River. To the west was Meyerode and to the east was Herresbach. There were no towns or villages in the forest—further evidence that it was all rough terrain.

He tossed the can away, cleaned his spoon with snow, and slipped it into an overcoat pocket. The townspeople work in the forest, he observed, but no one lives in it.

All the better for us, Corky said. We don’t need civilians getting in our way.

Arthur nodded agreement, ate his crackers and cheese, and was still hungry. He drank some water and observed, The Maris family said about half the people in the area sympathize with the Germans.

That’s what Intelligence told us when we moved into the area, Corky said. How about this patch here? He pointed to the highway map with a gloved finger. I bet there’s likely to be a spring or a headwaters there.

Could be. And I want to look at this area here. Arthur indicated it on the map with a twig. Eventually, we’ll get to know the whole forest. I want to attach paper to this topo sheet and extend it well to the north. We’ll have to learn the road network and sketch it in. Our necks might depend on it.

The other men had finished eating and were warming them-selves around the fire, except Tony Corno, who had guard. Arthur said, Well, thanks to Lensen and Slim, we had breakfast.

Yeah, thanks, fellas, Dave said. Everyone acknowledged the cooks’ generosity, though Arthur suspected Slim’s was not as open-handed as Lensen’s.

Well, our first order of business is to find a good spot for our base, Arthur announced. Corky and I have some ideas. Then we’ll visit that supply dump and help ourselves to what we need. Let’s get this show on the road.

The first place they looked at turned out to be too close to a road junction. Arthur sketched the crossroads in a notepad, with distances and compass bearings. About a half-mile further north, they explored a broad upland. They found a likely site along a firebreak that was fairly level and had space to build several huts if they could find tools. The closest paved road was about half a mile away in a valley to the west.

This could be a good spot, Arthur said, if water’s fairly handy. Our next stop is the cabin across the way.

He led them due east toward another valley, beyond which, as he recalled, the cabin sat among tall trees. They had not gone far before they started downhill into a wilderness. The broad upland and its eastern slope was not carefully cultivated woods. Here, no foresters had trimmed away the trees’ lower branches; no one had cleared away brush. They marched through mature trees in their natural state where saplings had sprung up at random and dead branches littered the forest floor. Brush and brambles had to be gone around or through. Walking quietly was difficult and would be impossible at night. Although he had to check his compass frequently, Arthur was glad it was wild. The area was out of the way, neglected, forgotten. It was perfect.

His GI map showed the southern end of the next valley, with a dirt road leading down to the St. Vith road. He anticipated their approach to the valley floor. We have to cross all roads with care.

He worked through heavy brush, wondering whether they would find GIs in the cabin. If so, maybe they’ll join up. Too bad the cabin’s so close to the road between Heuem and Meyerode. And it must be known to civilians. But maybe we could move it? We could take it apart and rebuild it at the campsite. But we’ll need tools: axes and saws, hand tools of all kinds, and shovels. Long-handled shovels would make digging foxholes much easier, and pickaxes, too.

Arthur had high hopes about the supply dump. With so many things they needed, it could be ripe for plunder. Of course, there might be guards, probably were. We aren’t going to fight our way in. It’ll have to be a sneak-and-grab operation. We’ll snatch as much as we can carry. And our first priority is food and tools—in that order— and ammunition.

We’ll have to try to make several loads. Suppose we carry stuff off into the woods, cache it, then go back for more? That might be the way to do it. Or, we do a recon in daylight, then go back at night and really raid the place.

The more he thought about that, the better he liked it.

I just hope the Krauts haven’t plundered it first.

He picked up the pace. Soon daylight shone through the trees ahead. Thinking that they should be nearing the valley floor, he sig-naled a halt. Taking his carbine off his shoulder, he turned to say, Road just ahead. I’ll make sure the coast is clear. Stay put.

Corno murmured, Okay, sir.

Behind him, Higgins passed the word back to Corky at the end of the column.

Arthur moved quietly, slowly, toward the white ribbon showing through gaps in evergreen branches. At the edge of the trees, he reached out to shift a branch, and heard voices.

English or German?

The voices came closer and he plainly heard: I’m tellin’ ya, the guy could be another Joe Lewis!

Joe’s in the Army, now.

I know he’s in the Army. Who isn’t? My point is, this guy’s got talent.

How much did you say he weighs?

Well, that’s the thing. He’s only a hundred and twenty, hundred and thirty pounds. But he’s all fight, I tell ya.

That one guy’s from New York, Arthur thought, or I’m Joe Lewis.

Well, no one weighing one hundred and thirty pounds is going to beat Joe Lewis. One hundred and thirty pounds ... What is that? It’s not even a middleweight.

They came into sight through the trees, followed by two more a little way behind.

I never said nothin’ about him beating Joe Lewis. I said he could be like Joe Lewis. A champ.

As the ones bringing up the rear were about to pass, Arthur called, Hey, GIs.

The men on the road stopped in their tracks. Astonished and alarmed, they swung their weapons toward the trees.

Who the hell is that? a New Yorker demanded.

Take it easy. Don’t shoot, Arthur said. We’re GIs.

Where in the hell are you? Come out here before we start blasting.

Keep your shirt on, Arthur chided him. I’ll show myself, just relax.

Well, come on out then.

Arthur waved to the others to stay put. Okay. I’m coming out now. Easy does it. He pushed his way through the snowy branches and into the open.

Where’s the rest of ya? One asked in a southern drawl. None of them wore any rank, but the one talking seemed to be in charge. Who are you?

The name’s Hill. Lieutenant Hill. You can put down your weapons, men.

The two who had passed him were both young, neither over twenty, and both wore glasses. They lowered their carbines. But the leader did not. He was a few years older and looked at Arthur suspi-ciously. The man next to him put up his carbine and smiled, saying, He looks like an officer. Big one, too.

Arthur reached into his overcoat to show his field jacket collar with his silver bar. Lower that rifle, and I’ll have my men step out.

The leader pointed his weapon at the snow.

Tony, Arthur called. Lead ’em out.

The men in the road watched them emerge from the trees.

Just eight of you? the leader said.

So far, Arthur said. And you address me as ‘sir.’ Where are you men headed?

We’re on our way to Saint Vith, sir, the friendly one said. He also had a southern accent. I don’t suppose that’s where you’re comin’ from?

No. You’ve got about three miles to go, if you head straight west. Arthur put his collars back in order, thinking that the older one seemed to have a chip on his shoulder. This road’s going north.

Is that so, Lieutenant? the older man said with a shade of derision.

Who am I talking to? Arthur demanded.

PFC Guidry, the man named himself, then added, sir.

I’m Private Renfro, sir, his companion said. Those Yankees’re Privates Shexnayder and Smith.

The young soldiers looked at him. The one wearing horn-rimmed glasses said, I’m Shexnayder, sir.

What’s your outfit, men? Arthur asked.

Services and Supply Company, 106th Infantry Division, sir, Guidry answered. How’s by you?

589th Field Artillery. You fellas know much about a supply dump in Schoenberg?

They was two of ’em, sir, Renfro said.

Can you show me their locations on the map?

You got a map, sir? Guidry asked.

Arthur brought it out. Although he felt safe enough up here, well away from the main road, he wanted to instill cautious habits in himself and his men. Sergeant Corcoran, post guards up and down the road, will you?

Yes, sir. Corky directed Dom and Dave to jog to opposite ends of the wide bend, telling them, Stay in sight, but out of sight.

While they hustled away, Arthur showed the map to the supply men. I’ve heard of a supply dump right about here. He pointed. Is that the one you’re talking about, Private?

Well, I don’t rightly know ... Renfro said. He looked closely at the map.

When you went there, was it before you crossed over the river? Arthur coached.

Yeah, that’s right, sir.

The one I know about was on this side, west of town, towards the hills, Guidry said. That’s likely the one you’re pointin’ at, sir.

Good. Did this dump have both rations and munitions?

Seems like it had a bit of everythin’, sir, Guidry said. I hauled all kinds a stuff in there. Mortar shells, K rations, ba’bed wire, han’ grenades, stretchers ...

Arthur looked up at Corky. Sounds like our kind of place.

Yes, sir. It sure does.

What can you tell me about the layout, Guidry? Arthur asked. Where the ammo was, where the food was?

Guidry looked at him, clearly wondering why he was so interest-ed. Well, sir, as I recollect, the ammo was on the left side of the road, and the rations was in the back.

Excellent, Arthur said. He started to put away the map.

Wait a minute, sir, Renfro said. I just remembered. The other dump I was at, we had to cross the river. I think I can show you where that’s at.

That’s okay, Private. I don’t plan on visiting that one. Arthur folded and put away the map.

What are you plannin’, sir? Guidry asked.

My men and I are going to raid that supply dump. There’s a few things we need.

Maybe you guys could come along with us, Corky said. Since you know the layout.

Whadda you wanta go raidin’ that dump for? Guidry asked, as though the notion was crazy. There must be more Krauts there ’n fleas on a hound.

Maybe, Arthur allowed, but we need supplies. We plan to hold out in these woods until the Army pushes the Germans back. We’ve been trying for two days to get to St. Vith, but the Krauts are too thick around there to get through.

We lost a good man last night, trying to cross the road, Corky said. There must be a full division of Germans around St. Vith by now, and more coming in.

We’re setting up camp not far from here, Arthur said. You men are welcome to join us.

Guidry thought about it a moment. He seemed surprised that he had been made an offer instead of being given an order. Renfro and the others looked at him and said nothing, although Arthur felt that his offer appealed to Renfro, at least. He waited for their answer, giving them time to think. He could order them to stay, but it would be better if they chose to. He hoped they would. They all looked like they were in good shape, although undisciplined. He wondered how they had come to be wandering the woods.

You say St. Vith is surrounded, sir? Guidry asked.

St. Vith may not be surrounded, but we definitely are. The Germans are on every road around this forest. But they’re too busy fighting at St. Vith to bother coming up here. We figure, why get shot or captured trying to get to the Army when we can let the Army come to us? Of course, it won’t exactly be a vacation, but we’re going after chow and supplies so we can set up a proper camp. We’ll have shelter and warm food tonight.

What do you boys say? Pete asked.

Sounds okay to me, Guidry, Shexnayder said.

Guidry ignored him, and turned to Renfro. What do you say, Mike?

I guess it makes sense.

Guidry looked to Smith.

I’m staying, Smith said.

Guidry nodded. He looked at Arthur. The artillery of both sides provided an ever-present backdrop of moaning, rumbling noise. He asked, You figure it’s impossible to get through, sir?

It might not be impossible, but it’s pretty unlikely.

These guys have been trying, and they have a map, Shexnayder pointed out.

Guidry turned away looking into the forest, considering.

Arthur wondered how Guidry saw the woods. Does he see a refuge, or a trap?

Guidry clicked his tongue and spat. He turned back to Arthur.

I guess we’ll join up with you, sir.

Renfro nodded agreement and Shexnayder voiced satisfaction.

Glad to have you with us, Arthur said. From here on out, you’re back in the Army and I’m in charge. Is that clear? He kept his eyes on Guidry.

Guidry returned his gaze and said, Yes, sir.

Good, Arthur said, though he recognized grudging acceptance when he saw it. How are you fixed for ammunition?

I got three full magazines, sir.

So did Renfro, Smith, and Shexnayder. They all carried carbines.

Okay. Let’s try not to use any. We’re going to help ourselves to food and supplies from that dump, but we have to avoid a fight. If we spot any Germans, we’ll avoid contact. If we meet other GIs, though, I’ll talk with them. Fall in with Sergeant Corcoran. There’ll be no talking on this march unless I say so. Got it?

The men affirmed that they understood.

Corky, they might need a refresher on hand and arm signals, and tell ’em the password. Corporal Higgins, call in Dom and Dave.

Arthur found a trail going up the other side of the valley that showed fresh tracks of men having come down. Guidry told Corcor-an that they had been on that trail not an hour before and had spent the night in a cabin up the hill. Corcoran had him repeat this to Arthur, who asked whether there had been others with them.

When we left, Guidry said, they was four GIs still in there.

Arthur cautioned the men to be quiet and led them uphill, wondering whether the four GIs would still be there, and thinking how he’d handle it if they were.

When Arthur reached the cabin in its little clearing, smoke was curling up from the chimney pipe. As a precaution, he sent Higgins, DeLuccia, Solonsky, and Corno circling through the trees to cover the path on the far side of the clearing. They would watch the front of the cabin and the dirt road to the east. Corky stationed the rest of the men in a semicircle around the back of the place, insisting that there be no shooting without orders from the lieutenant or himself.

Not wanting to startle the men inside, Arthur did not call from the woods. Instead, he approached a back corner to remain out of sight. At each step, the snow crunched softly underfoot. It was so quiet, he wondered whether his footfalls could be heard, especially as he neared the window. He stopped, listening for movement or voices. He could see Higgins and DeLuccia crouched behind trees, watching him. Would they warn me if someone were peering out? Would Higgins report fresh tracks on the trail to the road?

Calm down. What would Germans be doing here?

He took a deep breath and inched nearer, carbine in hand, straining his ears.

The mornin’s gettin’ on, Tubs Mitchell said. You fellas gonna stay here all day? Me an’ Chick be leavin’ in a minute.

What do you think, Sandy? Gary Lassiter asked. Can you manage a five-mile hike?

Sandy Williams felt better, though his hip and arm were sore and hurt cruelly if bumped. But it was plain that they couldn’t stay here. The way the Germans had pushed through Schoenberg, and from the sound of artillery in the west, he guessed they were now attacking St. Vith. The colored boys had said they thought it was about five miles away. If the Germans took that town, though, there was no telling how much further they’d have to go to reach their unit.

But having a roof over his head, a warm stove, and a cot to sleep in had been a godsend. It was the first time in days that he had been able to get completely warm. His feet did not hurt, and his boots and clothes were dry. If it hadn’t been for his wounds and his hunger, he’d be in good shape. As it was, he said, Okay. I’ll make it. Just let me tie up my boots.

Dat’s de way, Tubs encouraged him. Just you get out dere in all dat fresh air. It’ll do ya a power of good, won’t it, Chick?

Chick Harper smiled at the notion. Sure, Tubs. It’ll be just like a stroll through Central Park. Except for the Germans.

Oh, we ain’t gonna see no Germans out here in dese woods, Tubs said, waving the idea away. Won’t see any a dem ’til we fetches up onta a main road, most likely. Or when we get to where dey’re fightin’. Den we liable ta see plenty. Dat’s when we’ll need some luck.

Sandy tied his bootlaces, listening to the unfamiliar Mississippi drawl. Tubs, the big Negro, was about average height, but very stout. Not fat, but powerfully built with a big round head and really dark skin, so that when he smiled, which was often, his teeth made a striking contrast. Sandy marveled that his speech seemed straight out of Huckleberry Finn.

Chick had a much lighter complexion—certainly more school-ing—and did not talk as much. Sandy found the Negroes interesting. He had never met any Negroes until he’d been drafted, and had never spent any time around them like this. Tying a bootlace, he said to Chick, Only time I ever saw New York City was when our outfit shipped out. You grow up there, Chick?

Yes. Pretty much.

Gary scattered what coals remained in the stove, and stood to look around the cabin. It was snug. Whoever built it knew a few things about carpentry. Though he should have put a window in the back wall. He stepped to a window and peered into the trees. Outside, something moved. He ducked back. Quiet! Someone’s out there!

Sandy looked for his weapon, but the Germans had taken it.

Chick unshouldered his in a flash.

Tubs asked, What’d ya see?

Someone’s out there.

Germans?

Can’t tell, Gary said. He was reluctant to look again.

Chick moved carefully to the front window. I don’t see anyone out front. That doesn’t mean no one’s there ...

Could be GIs, Tubs said, but he picked up his carbine.

Chuck said, I knew we should’ve left by now.

Sandy’s only weapons were two grenades. He felt helpless without a rifle. What do we do? Make a dash for it?

Chick said, I don’t look to get shot in the back.

Gary peered around the edge of the window. I don’t see him now.

They stood motionless, making no sound, listening.

Arthur heard American voices, but they quickly went silent. He could feel the tension inside the cabin, like in the locker room just before going onto the field. Someone had seen him approach, or seen one of the men in the woods. He had to prevent anyone from shoot-ing. Looking to where Higgins and DeLuccia were, he remembered Corky’s trick. He started to whistle the Army anthem.

Inside the cabin, Chick said, That’s ‘As the Caissons Go Rolling Along!’ They must be GIs.

Then it’s Hi! Hi! Hee! In the field artillery, Tubs sang. Shout out your numbers loud and strong ...

Arthur stopped whistling and called to the men inside. Okay, GIs, mind if I come in?

Who are you? Gary called.

That don’t matter, Tubs said. He’s got to be a GI. Let ’im in. He moved to open the door.

I’m Lieutenant Arthur Hill, 589th Field Artillery.

There. See? Tubs said.

Peering out the window, Gary could see no one. He stopped Tubs from opening the door and called, Come out where we can see you.

A tall American officer appeared at a side window, smiling.

He’s a GI officer, alright, Chick said.

Okay, Gary said. Come inside, sir.

Tubs opened the door.

Arthur went around to the front and was greeted by a husky Negro GI, who said, Come on in, sir.

The doorway was a bit low, and Arthur had to duck to enter.

Good morning, men. Like I said, I’m Lieutenant Hill. I’ve got some men with me. Some of them you’ll know. Guidry, Renfro, Shexnayder, and Smith?

Tubs said, Uh huh ...

Chick just frowned.

Sandy looked puzzled.

Those guys were here last night, sir, Gary said, but they aren’t artillery ...

That’s what they tell me, Arthur said. We met this morning, and they decided to throw in with me and my outfit. When they told me you fellas might be here, I decided to stop by. He rested his carbine butt on the floor. Who’m I talking to?

PFC Mitchell, sir, the big Negro said, smiling. Dey calls me Tubs.

Arthur reached out his hand, and the man, a little surprised, shook it readily.

He turned to the white soldier next to him.

Corporal Gary Lassiter, sir, 81st Combat Engineers. Back there is my partner, PFC Sandy Williams.

Arthur shook Lassiter’s hand and advanced further into the room to shake with Williams.

Sir. You wouldn’t be from Saint Vith, would you? Sandy asked.

’Fraid not, Arthur said. Our outfits used to be neighbors, I think. Were you stationed in Auw?

That’s right, sir, until the Krauts kicked us out.

Arthur nodded. Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around. But you guys put up a stiff fight. Knocked out at least one Kraut tank.

Sandy smiled a little confusedly. He remembered the tanks rolling into the town, and Gary’s bazooka getting ruined before he could shoot it.

Arthur turned to the other Negro soldier.

Corporal Harper, sir, Chick said. Tubs and I are with the 333rd Field Artillery.

Always good to meet a fellow redleg, Arthur said, shaking his hand. This man was more formal and reserved. He seemed to be sizing him up. He liked that. Feeling the warmth of the stove, he closed the door and took off his helmet. Scratching his head, he said, So, you men figuring to make this place home for a while?

No, sir, Tubs said. We just stayed the night’s all. We was plan-nin’ to head west ’bout de time you come along.

Going to try to make it through the lines to Saint Vith?

Yes, sir, Tubs affirmed. Only, dis man here is a little shot up ...

Arthur looked at Williams. There was a dark hole in a coat sleeve. Hit in the arm, Williams?

Yes, sir. And the hip.

These guys patch you up?

Yes, sir. I’m sore, but I can walk okay. But, ah, the Krauts took our weapons and gear.

Well, I happen to have some extra carbines and web gear, Arthur said. He had retained them from the men who had surren-dered. You’re welcome to them.

Thank you, sir.

Uh, sir, Chick began, Guidry and those guys were going west, too. Now they’re with you. What’s the story?

Arthur turned to face all of them. They seemed good men. I escaped when one of my guns ran into a roadblock this side of Schoenberg day before yesterday. I tried to make it through to St. Vith to rejoin my outfit, but there’re too many Germans around the place. We lost a good man last night trying. So, we plan to hold up here in the woods. We figure we’ll let the Army come to us. Guidry and his men liked the idea, and you men are welcome, too.

Outside, Guidry leaned against a tree. He had heard the lieuten-ant go inside. Having told the sergeant about the Negroes, Guidry said, "You figure he’ll want them coons in with us?

Corky said, If he figures they’re good men, he will.

Guidry shook his head. I guess they can dig a latrine, foxholes, and such.

Renfro snickered from behind a nearby tree.

Corky had not thought about Negroes being in the outfit. He sup-posed it would be alright. They’d probably be more useful than Guid-ry. The lieutenant won’t take anybody that won’t follow orders.

Guidry gave him a sour look and turned away.

Corky was glad his remark had hit home. He thought Guidry and his buddy were a couple of dumb hicks. If the lieutenant took them, why not some Negroes? Especially if they have more sense than a jackass.

Corno was sitting behind a stump and shifted his weight, feeling the cold ground through his pants. How long we going to have to sit around out here?

Solonsky glanced at the cabin. There was no sign of movement. Beats me, he said. But we can’t be too much longer if we figure on making it to Schoenberg and back before nightfall.

Corno looked around for Higgins. Hey, Corp, mind if I have a smoke?

Pete saw no harm in it. Sure. Save me the butt?

Okay.

The way Corno snapped his lighter closed reminded Pete of Niska. Where would he be now? In some Kraut aid station? Sure hope they can pull him through—a good kid like him. His folks’ll get a telegram in a month or so. We regret to inform you that your son is missing in action. Poor Willie’s folks’ll get the worst news. They’ll know he’s dead. That is, if Corky turned in his dog tags before we lost the car. I’ll have to ask him if he did. Some Happy New Year back home. Ma’ll get one of those telegrams if we don’t get back to our outfits. How long would it be before the Army sends the telegram? I should ask the lieutenant. He ought to know. ’Course, there ain’t a whole lot I can do about it stuck here in the woods.

He stamped his cold feet, as uneasy in his mind as he was physi-cally. If Ma gets a telegram that I’m missing, she won’t know if I’m dead or alive. She’ll be sick ...

Hey, here he comes, Corno said.

Pete glanced at the cabin. The lieutenant emerged, followed by a Negro GI, then another one. A white guy stood in the door and another one behind him.

Sergeant Corcoran, the lieutenant called. Corporal Higgins.

What gives? Corno asked.

We’ll see, Pete said. Keep your eyes on the trail, you guys.

Pete trotted up to the group, where Arthur was introducing Corky to the strangers. This is Sergeant Corcoran, and here’s Corporal Higgins. Corky, these are Corporal Harper and PFC Mitchell, Corporal Lassiter, and PFC Williams. They’re with us, now.

Corky shook hands while Pete nodded to them. The big Negro smiled and said, Hey, Sarge, Corp.

Arthur said, There are sixteen of us, now. Lassiter and Williams are engineers, so I want them to stay here with four more men and see about making a lean-to so we can all have a roof over our heads tonight. Sergeant Corcoran, let’s go inside a minute. Corporal Higgins, let the men take five, but keep two lookouts on the road.

Being in the cabin was the first time in days that Corky had been enclosed in a warm place. He said, Gee, this feels like heaven.

Doesn’t it, though? Arthur said. He sat in a chair by the stove. He motioned to the other chair, and Corky drew it up opposite him. The engineers sat on the cot.

Corky found that the stove needed stoking and took care of it, saying, Too bad this place isn’t across the valley.

It will be, Arthur said. We’ll take it apart and move it. But first, we have to get our supplies. I want an NCO to stay here with the engineers to supervise the work detail. The engineers say there are two saws and an ax. What do you think of Higgins being in charge here?

Pete could handle it. But who stays with him?

Well, the two engineers, though Sandy is wounded. And four others, counting Pete. Maybe Dom and the two Negroes?

Corky frowned momentarily. Well, I’d sooner you keep me, Pete, and Dom together. We don’t know how reliable some of these new guys are.

True. But I need someone good to be in charge here. That’s why I was thinking of Pete.

Much as I’d hate to miss out on the fun, Lieutenant, maybe I ought to stay and Pete and Dom go with you?

Arthur thought about that a moment. It made sense. Especially if we meet up with more GIs and I send them back here. Okay. Who else should stay?

How about the cook, and the two supply guys from New York? They’d probably be more useful here.

Okay. You’re my first sergeant and can run the work detail. Corporal Higgins will be squad leader for the raiding party.

That southern guy, Guidry? Corky said. He doesn’t have much use for Negroes. Probably the other southerners, too.

I don’t care a damn about races.

Yes, sir. But all the same, it might be best to keep it in mind, at least until we’re together for a few days.

Arthur nodded reluctantly. Okay. Fair enough. Let’s assemble the men.

Corky formed them in two lines before the cabin. Arthur an-nounced the new command structure—who was staying, who was in the raiding party—and made sure everyone knew the password.

Now, about hand and arm signals, he said. We have to move silently. Every one of us has to become skilled woodsmen in the shortest possible time.

He demonstrated the most common signals, making sure every-one knew them. And one more thing: if anybody gets captured, do not—I repeat—do not divulge any information about the rest of us. Is that clear?

Several of the men, particularly Corky’s crew and Solonsky, answered, Yes, sir.

Is that clear? Arthur asked again.

This time, all answered affirmatively.

Corky caught Arthur’s eye and nodded toward Harper and Guidry.

Right. In this outfit, a man’s rank matters more to me than his race. We’re all together in this. We’ll be working together, and we may be fighting together. So look around at the men with you. We’re going to be watching each other’s backs. Any man that can’t manage that will have me to answer to. Got it?

As the men answered affirmatively, Tubs grinned, but Guidry maintained a wooden expression.

Good. Sergeant Corcoran’s section, fall out for work detail. Corporal Higgins, your squad will leave with me in three minutes. Now’s the time to check canteens, use the latrine, or what have you. We’ll be moving fast, and quietly, so make sure your gear is secured. Corky, give our extra weapons and gear to the engineers.

Chapter 2

December 19th, Part II

On Higgins’ advice, Arthur assigned Dom as lead scout and di-rected him to use the road as long as it went east. Giving Dom a fifty-yard head start, he told Solonsky, Keep count of our paces and make notes. That’ll help us add to the map.

They walked single file, with proper spacing, following the road a third of a mile before it made a sharp turn south. However, a fire-break enabled them to continue east without having to navigate through the trees. Before long, Dom signaled a halt and hurried back. Dere’s motor traffic up ahead.

Arthur expected they were near the road between Heuem and Meyerode. He moved the group forward until they could all hear the engines, then said, Corporal Higgins, get everybody off the trail and wait here. Dom, let’s have a look.

What kind of convoy was it: troops or supplies? The engines grew louder as they closed the distance. When moving shapes could be seen through the trees, Arthur gripped his carbine, feeling like he was stalking a buck. But by the time they reached the edge of the road, the back of the last truck was disappearing around a bend. It was German and carried troops. What the other trucks may have been carrying was anyone’s guess.

He and Dom watched the road for a moment to make sure it was clear.

Krauts, Dom said.

Yes.

Dey was haulin’ right along.

Tell Higgins to come on up. Arthur noted compass bearings on the back of his GI map. I think we’re just off the northern edge of this sheet. Once we cross this road, and go maybe another half-mile, we ought to start down into a valley. At the bottom of that, we turn right, south, and follow it to the supply dump.

When the men came up, he briefed them on their location and direction of travel, then sent Dom across the road to check the far side. Presently, Dom reappeared to say all was clear. Arthur had turned to start the men across when Dom came running to join him inside the trees. Breathlessly, he said, Hold on, Lieutenant.

What is it?

Some more GIs. Just now. Dey’re headin’ west. Prob’ly cross da road up above in a minute.

As if on cue, two GIs stepped into the open not one hundred yards uphill. The GIs glanced in their direction and crossed over.

They didn’t see us, Arthur said.

Weren’t lookin’ dat hard.

Three more crossed the road, barely glancing in either direction.

Dey sure ain’t cavalry, or even infantry.

They didn’t act like men trained for combat. Is that all of ’em?

I didn’t get a count, but I t’ink so.

Arthur watched another minute, considering how to make con-tact with them. When no more appeared, he said, Corporal Higgins, stay here. It won’t take me long to catch up with ’em.

Pete said, You sure you ought to go alone, sir?

I’ll make better time. See you in fifteen minutes.

Arthur jogged through the snow, avoiding brush and branches, and struck the trail the men had made. They were veering south. He pressed on, thinking, They’ll hit the firebreak before long.

A branch snapped up ahead. Someone said something. A man’s back moved among the trees a dozen yards off. Arthur closed the distance carefully. The man wore a pack and had a Springfield rifle slung on his shoulder. A long bayonet hung from his ammunition belt. The man never once looked behind him.We’ll have to train our men to glance behind every so often.

The GI halted. Arthur moved behind a tree for cover, peered around it, and called, Hey, GIs!

The man spun around, unslinging his rifle. Arthur ducked behind the trunk as the man fired. Surprised at the man’s quick reaction and hearing the man working the rifle bolt, Arthur shouted, Take it easy! I’m a GI!

What is it, Del?

Who are you?

Men were moving, maybe to get a bead on him. Arthur called, I’m Lieutenant Hill. Knock off the shooting, and I’ll come out.

Guy says he’s a lieutenant, Sarge. Behind that tree right there.

A different voice spoke. Come on out. We’ll hold our fire. Just keep your gun in the air.

Arthur stuck his carbine out from behind the tree and wiggled it. Here’s my weapon.

We see it. Come on out!

Arthur stepped around the tree, with carbine and left hand raised. There were three men, all covering him with their weapons. Two more came back to