Extracted from "Bravest of the Brave", a small booklet covering the history of the 95th Infantry Division. This booklet is one of the series of G.I. Stories published by the Stars and Stripes in Paris in 1945.
The Metz drive began rolling with a couple of separate pushes, Nov. 8. The 2nd and 3rd Bns., 377th Inf., attacking at night, wiped out the enemy pocket east of Maizieres to the Moselle. The going was rough. It was trial by fire. Men who proved themselves that night did a lot of the ball-carrying on the power drive down to Metz the following week.
The division had seen many slag piles before, but it had never attempted to fight one. Co. K. tried it the same night and ran into concentrated hell from mortars, machine guns and mines of deeply dug-in Germans. It was hell in the woods at Fereau Farm too where the untried Co. F waded through mine fields and booby-trapped brush to blast Germans from thick-walled farm buildings. Mortar fire rained unceasingly. Co. I found a similar reception on its assignment.
Only momentarily stopped and bitter now, these outfits jumped off again the next day. It wasn’t any pushover, but the job was completed. Again the regimental commander learned the caliber of his men. Lt. Col. Robert L. Walton, 2nd Bn. CO, was an example — during that murderous night attack he rallied platoons that had been chopped up by mines and machine guns. That was just a warm-up. Next morning he was at the point of the attack into the woods above the farm. When a machine gun killed a sergeant next to him, the colonel tore into the position, his own submachine gun blazing. Although hit three times, he kept running the show. It wasn’t until late afternoon that he slowed down long enough for the medics to examine him.
Lt. Raymond J. Albano, (then a T/Sgt.) Small, Idaho, was another standout. Slugging his way to the top of a slag pile, Albano dug in, laid out an array of weapons, got ready for business.
Germans were most obliging. They even sent a 15-man patrol up the pile after him. Few returned to tell about the one-man army and his arsenal. In four days of his grim "king of the slag pile" game, Albano killed at least 20, knocked out four machine guns. He showered them with 200 rifle rounds, 15 rocket shells from a bazooka, 34 grenades from his rifle launcher and 40 hand grenades.
The 2nd and 3rd Bns. became veterans overnight. They weren’t to be stopped. They were poised for action whenever the Division Commander blew the whistle.
Another preliminary bout to the main event took place when 1st Bn., 377th, Joes crossed the flooded Moselle at Uckange, Nov. 8. A neat assist came from the 320th Engr. Bn., which put them across in the face of heavy fire. The Germans threw the book at the battalion — mortars, artillery, 88s, rifles. After Cos. B and C and part of D reached the opposite shore, business picked up.
The troops pushed to the high ground east of the Moselle, dug in and began defending their newly-won bridgehead. But the Moselle began to rise and reached its highest level in 29 years. First Bn. doughs were getting hungry; they needed more ammunition. Mother Nature and Germans, both on the loose, provided a rugged combination. Normal supply means were impossible, but the 95th found the answer. The division’s Air Corps — artillery liaison planes — were used to supply the isolated troops.
Division infantrymen naturally are fond of their artillery, but the 1st Bn. was even more devoted after this extremely tricky operation. Planes made better targets than clay pigeons because they had to drop down to 25 feet to release supplies, then pull up swiftly to miss trees. Pilots appropriately dubbed their run the "Red Ball Airway Express." They made 104 trips the first day alone, dropping food, ammunition, medical supplies.
By Nov. 12, the Moselle had subsided enough for supplies to be transported by assault boats. Next day, the remainder of 1st Bn. crossed to the east bank and began pushing to Bertrange and Imeldange, the final objectives. Cos. A and D overran both towns during the day, and Co. C charged into Bertrange to make certain Germans didn’t regain it.
But the "13" jinx cursed the battalion, because Nazis brought up infantry and armor the next day to cut off forces in the two towns. Enough heroism was displayed by 1st Bn. the next two days to fill a book. Lt. Fred Brandenburg, 377th Med. Det., Denver, was a sample. He set up an aid station at Bertrange, worked tirelessly taking care of wounded.
Then a report came from Imeldange, a mile away, that Kraut artillery had hit six men. The enemy also was zeroed in on the road between the two towns, particularly a 1000-yard open stretch.
Lt. Brandenburg started out although warned that the trip was too hazardous to attempt. He started out, but the road was so churned up it would have been like going over Niagara Falls in a Lister bag. So he came back and resumed work.
Next morning before dawn, the lieutenant started out again. The Krauts still poured it in. He dove into a shallow ditch along the roadside and crawled. The stuff crump-crumped all around; some of the big hunks of shrapnel sang a dirty song as they flew overhead. Down in the ditch the lieutenant crawled all the way to Imeldange. Grimy and exhausted, he went to work on the six injured men. Lt. Brandenburg was awarded the Silver Star.
The battalion fought savagely until Nov. 15 when the newly-organized Task Force Bacon drove down from the north to relieve the pressure.
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