Those Devils In Baggy Pants by Ross S. Carter

Author:Ross S. Carter [Carter, Ross S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: History, United States, General
ISBN: 9780553251258
Google: r8JKPgAACAAJ
Publisher: Random House
Published: 1985-01-15T02:57:26+00:00

22. DUQUESNE LEADS THE PLATOON ON A RAMPAGE

At one o’clock one cold, rainy morning our battalion with the 2nd Battalion following, pushed across a little canal running at right angles to the Mussolini Canal and entered no man’s land. My company was the lead company and my platoon the lead platoon and Duquesne with six men (Gruening, Big Rodgers, Larkin and three replacements) was the point or lead man.

He headed off on a certain compass reading with orders to kill every German that offered resistance. We never again found it so easy to kill and capture Germans without suffering casualties ourselves as we did that night. They seemed too dazed to fire except very spasmodically. It was a rare opportunity compared to the rock-to-rock fighting we were used to, and we made the most of it. Big Rodgers fired one round into a hole and captured two Nazis. He shot another who was sighting his gun at Finkelstein and then captured him. Gruening, on the prowl like an old gray wolf, was fired on from a foxhole and he tossed in a grenade that accounted for two more. Duquesne shot two more who fired at him from a pile of straw. The old lumberjack and his men shot two motorcycle riders who came chugging up to the crossroads from the north after a brisk exchange of fire. Big Rodgers saved his own life and that of the Arab by beating an enemy who lay hidden in a ditch to the draw. Larkin captured two Nazis and had a fist fight with each as he and Wild Bill were marching them back.

A Sherman tank, which had come roaring up to see if we needed help, swung its guns onto the top floor of a house where we had some Krautheads covered. The tank commander said, “Boys, that house is my meat and I’ll tear it down for you.” The first armor-piercing shell went clean through the house. When the second one hit it in the middle, a medley of voices yodeled “Kamerad” and twenty Germans swarmed out.

We knew we were surrounded, but from experience we also knew that we were too hot for the Krautheads to handle. We set up a circular defense in the ditches and little canals and dug in. Five tanks which had reached us were ranged about the crossroads ready to take on all comers.

When it became light enough to see, the boys sprawled behind their rifles, cuddled the stocks to their shoulders, and made bets as to who would get the first shot. A Czech-American named Sokal spotted the first Nazi, but his rifle being full of mud wouldn’t shoot. Carey began to pot at him with a carbine. The Krauthead and his hidden buddy sprang up and dashed across the field. Carey, a rotten shot with a carbine, galloped after them, taking snap shots as he ran. One disappeared in a ditch, but the other fell on his knees and begged for mercy. Carey triumphantly prodded him back to us and we razzed him for being such a rotten shot that he had to run them down.

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