Bridges. A piece of architecture that most of us hardly even notice...unless of course, your traveling through Charleston, SC and are afraid of heights. I am speaking of the Silas N. Pearman and John P. Grace Memorial Bridges (if you ever went over the Cooper River prior to 2005 you know what I am talking about). You also might take note when one is missing and need to cross a river, railroad tracks, or a big hole in the ground.
You would also take note of the bridges if you ever had to build one quick, fast, and in a hurry, while under intense shelling and sniper fire. My Grandfather has a picture marked of him during one such instance, helping to piece together a Baily bridge over the river Salm in Belgium. The exact place was the town of Vielsalm, Belgium. The date was the morning of January 17, 1945. The Allies had just begun their push into Vielsalm. The first infantryman used boats, any boats, to get across the river. However, to get more men and materials across temporary bridges had to be erected.
Shortly after dawn on the 17th the battle had already begun and the opposite bank of the river already captured. All the Engineers had to do was get the bridges up. My Grandfather said that he was glad that his Lieutenant and Captain, both had an extensive knowledge of how to build bridges. Usually the Bailey bridges were mostly pieced together ahead of time, behind the front line. The work made all the more import, my Grandfather said, as one of the Pontoons ferrying soldiers was hit by an 88 (88mm Anti-Aircraft Gun, often used as an Artillery piece). He said that they never actually came under sniper fire, but every once in a while you would hear the crack of a bullet wizzing over their heads.
As the Germans withdrew back into Germany they destroyed every bridge they left behind. They also destroyed buildings, left dead horses, trucks, tanks and mines in the roadways. Anything to try and slow down the Allied push into Germany. Almost, every river crossing had to be rebuilt before the Allies could forge ahead. My Grandfather recalled working with a British Company when building several bridges over the Maas and her canals in Holland.
Holland presented my Grandfather and the Company with several other new problems that also had to be overcome beside building bridges on the skeletons of the previous bridge. Usually if the Germans had time they would blow up the dikes and dams in order to flood entire areas. Not only would the Combat Engineers have to build the bridges but they would have to repair the dikes and the dams. My Grandfather said that the British crews were top notch when it came to fixing a dam and getting the water back out of a particular area. He said that he personally only had to work on one dam, but he heard about a lot of others.
After Holland came Germany. Everything that the 75th had been through up until this point had been a cake walk compared to what was coming. There would be no more happy civilians to give them shelter in the freezing nights. No more liberations. From here on it was German territory, the mother land, their land, their homes, their families. The Germans would make the Allies pay for every inch of German dirt taken.
The Rhine crossing must have been one of the worst for my Grandfather, because when that page came up he did not say anything, even when I asked him a question. I decided it was time to take a break from memory lane and we went back inside. It was getting dark out on the porch anyway. Upon entering the house my Grandfather went into the kitchen for a glass of water and I received "the Look" from my Grandmother. I know now that my Mother gets "the Look" honestly. I paid my Grandmother no heed and sat down in the TV room.
A few minutes later my Grandfather came in and joined me. I opened the book back up and we continued. He chose to skip right to post-war Europe and his time in Cologne, Germany and Paris, France. Germany would never be the same. Hundreds of years worth of history lost to American and British bombs. Entire Neighborhoods, Cities really, flattened. My Grandfather and the Engineers were tasked with helping to of course get the infrastructure back up. Every once in a while he would also take up guard duty at a gate to temporary American camp in Cologne.
He recounted one time late in the day when he and one of his buddies were standing out at the gate on a busy street. They were down the street from a bakery and it was well past lunch. My Grandfather noticed a man come out of the bakery with a fresh loaf of bread and put it in the basket of his bicycle. The man started peddling feverishly up the hill towards them. As the man got in front of the gate, my Grandfather decided to stop him. Something to the effect of "Stop! You need to be searched!" Yet in German. A simple phrase that my Grandfather picked up.
However, he failed to mention who should stop as he did not point anyone out. Well everyone on the street stopped, small children being walked home by their mothers, construction workers, a dump truck hauling rubble, and several people on bicycles. They all stopped and they all turned and looked at him. Even his buddy. Several seconds went by as he tried to figure out what he needed to do now. The people on the street began to wonder what was going on as the seconds ticked by.
Eventually he pointed to the man that just came from the bakery and motioned him over. He waved everyone else about their business. The man got off his bike and came over as the rest of the street slowly returned to the original pace. The man started asking questions in German. My Grandfather looks around and saw that the street had returned to normal and told the man to move along. The man looked at him questioningly, before my Grandfather told him to move along again. This time the man got back on his bike and started peddling. He also started yelling something in German. My Grandfather could on assume that he was being cursed at. The man continued well out of earshot. My Grandfather and his friend burst out laughing, drawing more looks from the bystanders.
During the war the 75th division had one of the highest casualty rates during their time in the war. They would go from being called "The Diaper Division" due to their complete lack of combat experience, to "The Bulge Busters".
During that time I can only assume that my Grandfather lost many, many friends. Once home he would learn of more losses. He found out that his wife of three years, left him for another man and that she took his house and sold it. He had to move back home with his Mom and Dad. That is until he met my Grandmother a year later. The rest is history.
If I happen to get more stories from my Grandfather I will be sure to recount them here, so that hopefully the memories will not be lost to time.
Also, for clarification, the title quote is from a sign that was hung on a building in Cologne, Germany. The sign proclaims that it is a quote from Hitler, however, I cannot find any evidence that Hitler did or did not say it. Either way, the sign reads true. The Germany left behind after the rule of Hitler was very different, far more different than even Hitler might have wanted.
Semper Fi Deus
Goose
Grist Mill Adventures
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