A Combat Engineer's Tale

Today was another day of celebration, at least, for me and my family. Today marked the annual celebration of the birth of my Mother. She was not exactly thrilled about the prospect of becoming yet another year older. As a part of the "Celebration" my Mother and I went to see my Grandparents, which is always about as interesting as having your teeth pulled.

In recent years it has become increasingly apparent that age is taking a toll on my Grandparents. My Grandfather has become increasingly forgetful and exponentially more childlike. My Grandmother has a marked increase in pain and stiffness. She also claims that she can no longer see anything due to Macular Degeneration of her eyes. However, anytime we are all driving to go anywhere and she is riding Shotgun, if we come to a four way intersection, she will check in her direction and tell you whether or not it is clear to go. But that is neither here no there.

Over the years I have come to find out that my Grandfather was a Combat Engineer during World War II in the European Theater. In actual attempts to garner any further information is usually blocked by my Grandmother who does not want the discussion to go any further, with the excuse that, "It upsets him."

The few times that I have been able to catch my Grandfather alone and in a position to talk about such things as his military history, did not bear much fruit. The most he would ever say are the dates that he entered and exited the theater, where he entered and exited, and what he did. Stating, "I built bridges, that's it."

Over the past few weeks I have had a heavy heart in this matter. This may be due to a combination of things, probably mostly due to the fact that being in Law Enforcement I am Nosey. Also, probably because it is a time period that I am interested in. Lastly, it has to do with a piece of history not being told and may be forgotten.

Well today, being the nosey person that I am, during the festivities, I happen to see a rather large book on the Bookshelf. This book had no title on the spine which I thought to be odd. I pulled the book out to look at the cover and what should I find? "Pictorial History of the 75th Infantry Division, 1944-1945" If that is not a way to start a conversation then I do not know what is. To be honest I had never heard of the 75th Division. If I had ever heard of it before it was quickly dismissed as not being the 1st Infantry Division (The Big Red 1), the 3rd Armor Division (General George S. Patton's "Spearhead"), or the 82nd Airborne Division (All-American).

I pulled my Grandfather aside and asked him to join me on the back porch. I sat down in one of the chairs and laid the book in my lap. I asked looking at the cover, "Was this your Division?" The answer came sooner than I expected. "Yes...yes it was." He sat down beside me and took the book from my hands. He opened it and began flipping through the pages and stopped at a large group picture. "This was my company. The 275th Combat Engineers Battalion." He ran his hand over the faces of the men he must have once considered to be closer than brothers.

We talked for a couple of hours. My mother keeping her mother occupied while we talked in the fading light. The following is a compilation of the information garnered from the book, the Internet, and the few stories that he told me in this short amount of time.

The 75th Infantry Division was activated at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri in April 1943 with an authorized strength of 15,514 men. One of those men was my Grandfather at the age of 19. The Average of a man in the 75th was 21 years old. They would spend the next 18 months training for the battles to come.

In November 1944 they were shipped to England and from there to France on December 13th. On December 16th Operation Watch on the Rhine began (also know as The Battle of the Bulge). The 75th was ordered to help stop the quickly advancing German line. They were mainly assigned to aid the 3rd Armored Division. After 33 days of hard fighting the 75th had earned the name of "Diaper Division", due to their inexperience in combat. During this battle the 75th earned itself a Meritorious Unit Commendation. It also had the highest casualty rate of any Division during the battle.

My Grandfather would not speak about the actual fighting, nor would I ask him about it. When we came to the section of the book about the Ardennes, he only pointed at the pictures and said, "There was heavy fighting there." Later he told me that when they arrived at they assigned drop off point in the Ardennes, he noticed the mounds of bodies. One side German, the other American. The American bodies were put in wagons and started the long journey home. He did not mention what happened to the German bodies.

His first night in the Ardennes he and the other Engineers were ordered to lay mines at the front. He and his Platoon picked up arm loads of mines and headed for the front. He said, "We were boys. We did what we were told. Being boys we talked all the while. We didn't know any better. We cut up, laughed, sang Christmas Carols." All the while passing foxhole upon foxhole of Infantryman. Several of which yelled, "Hey! Shut the F&#% up or I'll kick your A#&!" Being boys they shouted back and continued on their way.

As they neared the front line, the need to be quite became apparent. The veterans knew the sound well, but the young boys in the platoon did not recognize the horribly distinct whistle of the 88mm shells as they hurtled toward Earth. At the first horrible note was heard the veterans all shouted, "Get down!" My Grandfather and his Platoon did not heed this warning, for the interest of new sound. That is until the first shells struck further down the line with a massive explosion.

Mines went in every which direction as the Green Engineers scrambled for Foxholes. My Grandfather dove into the nearest Foxhole with two of his friends right behind him. The two Infantrymen already occupying the hole made room and they huddled together and waited for the barrage to subside. My Grandfather said that he could not remember how long the shelling lasted, but seemed to last forever.

As the last shells impacted the silence was just as deafening as the exploding shells. Then the two Infantrymen scrambled to there feet and waited for a German attack that did not come. After another eternity of waiting, one of the Infantrymen turned and said, "I don't hear you boys goofing off now."

Before any words could be exchanged a Lieutenant arrived and started giving orders for the Engineers to have the Mines in place before the next barrage or attack. The next several minutes was spent trying to find the mines that had been thrown about and forgotten. Once the mines had been recollected my Grandfather and his platoon went to work placing the mines. The next morning was spent gathering the activated mines back up in preparation for an assault on the Germans.

My Grandfather said that this was pretty much how he spent his time in the Ardennes.

To Be Continued...

Semper Fi Deus

Goose