No Victory in Valhalla by Ian Gardner

Author:Ian Gardner
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: No Victory in Valhalla: The Untold Story of Third Battalion 506 Parachute Infantry Regiment from Bastogne to Berchtesgaden
ISBN: 9781472809223
Publisher: Osprey Publishing

Following dozens of footprints through the woods, Gibson came across two soldiers from I Co face down in the snow and stopped to check. Both were dead.

It was just about to get dark when John rejoined the main force and was told to dig in by Col Charlie Chase. Before doing so Gibson went over to see Capt Anderson to inform him about the two casualties. Much to Gibson’s surprise, “Andy” broke down in tears. Although the soldiers were replacements, the captain seemed overwhelmed by their loss and the real prospect that his cherished company was now facing total annihilation. Shortly afterwards Anderson was transferred to the battalion staff and replaced Blaine Pothier as XO.

Earlier, around 1300hrs, the battalion had attacked and neutralized four German outposts, taking a number of prisoners. “As we were moving forward, I happened to notice a badly wounded German soldier on the ground waving at me,” recalls Cpl Jim Melhus (MG Ptn). “I’ll never forget this kid, who was very young and had bright red hair. The lad pleaded with us to help, but as we were about to move him to the aid station my section leader, S/Sgt August Saperito, came by and ordered us to keep moving.” Two hours later, unable to make contact with the 502nd, Jim Morton and Sgt Wester went on a patrol to the western edge of the forest and found the battalion’s left flank completely exposed (at the time the 502nd were actually further west, attacking enemy positions in the Acins woods).

Col Patch halted the advance on the northeastern edge of Fazone and ordered the battalion to dig in. Cpl Bobbie Rommel was instructed to take a couple of machine-gun teams and move forward to establish a firebase on the edge of the tree line overlooking Cobru. “Moving through the dense woodland with Cpl Fred Sneesby,” Rommel recalls, “I bumped into my buddy Harold Stedman, who I’d known since high school in Modesto, California. Harold was standing in the snow with a 60mm mortar barrel slung over his shoulder, wearing an enormous Kraut greatcoat that went clear down to the ground. I mean, he looked so ridiculous that I had to laugh.” Harold could not understand what Rommel found so funny: “Bob lived right around the corner from me back in the States and was one hell of a great guy who never asked anybody to do anything that he wouldn’t do himself.”

Still laughing, Bobbie told Harold that he’d see him later, shook hands, and carried on his way to the edge of the wood where the machine gunners hunkered down to form a defensive line. “As we were digging in, a Sherman tank came up behind us, which we knew would get someone’s attention,” recalls Bob. “Predictably the artillery came in and the shells burst into the trees, covering us with snow. After digging ourselves out, a piece of shrapnel from another burst whizzed past, narrowly missing my knee. During the next barrage I wasn’t so lucky

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