A Week in the Huertgen Forest 1944

By Hans Falkenstein German 89th Infantry Division

Introduced by Ron van Rijt

 

Foreword: The picture below introduces us to Hans Falkenstein and Fritz Tillmans (on right) and was taken February 2003 as they prepared to place flowers at the grave of fallen comrades.

    You are about to read a story, perhaps one of the first, to be born on the Internet. Originally written in German, it was available only to those who could read German but late in the year 2002, someone decided that the story was interesting enough that it should be available to a much wider audience. That someone was Ron van Rijt, a native of Holland and an ardent fan of the Internet. He had stumbled upon a site that promoted World War II combat stories (this site) and decided this could provide a wider audience for Hans's story. But this meant that the story would need to be translated into English.

    Undaunted, Ron took it upon himself to get Hans to make such a translation, but Han's limited knowledge of English writing presented a challenge to Ron; could he get someone to take a look at Hans's story and make any necessary changes to make it presentable for readers on the Internet. That is when he came to this site for a little help. For a little help, the site would be allowed to post the story. Seemed like a good deal all the way round.

   The next problem was how to get the story across the waves to the site where it was to be posted. Nothing could beat the Internet for fast communications and at such a cheap price but the story had been typed on a regular typewriter. This meant that Ron had nothing but a paper copy of the story. But, once started nothing could stop Ron. He put the pages of the story onto a scanner and used his computer to come up with copies that could be transmitted across the Internet.

    Unfortunately, pictures of printed material make for large file sizes and generate material that is not easily altered by word processors. Then, another country was heard from. That country was Belgium and the person heard from was Patrick (also known as Scorpio on his website), another devote to the Internet with special interests in World War II stories.  He offered to convert the scanner images into files that would be accepted by word processors. This generous offer was accepted and now there were a total of four countries involved in the process of generating the story into a form suitable for the Internet.

The rest is now history and thank you, Internet. And now onto the story of Hans Falkenstein.

 

 

    It was during the night of November 4th, 1944 that our unit, the 89th Infantry Division was finally relieved after enduring two months on the Siegfried Line. The 272th Volkagrenadier Division took our position and  we moved to the rear for some rest and refreshment. We marched for about an hour in total darkness before we reached a position close to the town of Dreiborn. There we were picked up by trucks that were already loaded with our weapons, i.e. machine guns, bazookas, hand grenades, rifles and ammunition, including thin bottles filled with liquid acid which were used as anti-tank weapons.

    Headlights off, we slowly moved away from the frontline, occasionally being held up by enemy artillery fire. When daylight came, the drivers had to make a mad dashes through open fields. As our truck bounced over a rough road, one of the anti-tank bottles fell and broke releasing the deadly acid gas. Those near the cab knocked on the window and yelled to stop the truck. Recognizing there was a problem, the trucks screeched to a halt and everyone jumped off gasping for air. Those who were fit quickly unloaded the boxes of ammunition since there was the danger of explosion.

     Except for some heavy coughing and throat pain, we were unhurt and proceeded to move on. In the afternoon we reached Hechelscheidt. After unloading the supplies from the trucks, we gathered at the nearby woods line only to be informed by the Company Commander that the Americans had broken through the lines near our division. We had received orders to retake three villages and then seal off this breakthrough. Then we could continue to the rear for rest and relaxation.  Our disappointment was moderate, but no one  anticipated what we were going to have to face. Someone asked if anyone had a map of the area - our officers had none. 

    Loaded down with heavy equipment, we painfully made our uphill through the woods and over muddy trails. Noise had to be avoided if we were to keep undetected. After two hours, darkness came so we stopped at a wide fire break about 300 yards south of Gerstenhof where we were to stay for the night. The order came to dig in, but the ground was so full of roots and since everyone was exhausted, the orders were ignored. As much as possible, we tried to find cover under the big fir trees.

     Occasional shelling during the night wounded a few of our guys but because everyone was so tired, the night passed fairly well, considering that we had to sleep with steel helmets on and in wet uniforms under the dripping trees. While it was still dark, the next morning (Nov. 6) we moved on to the Gerstenhof. In one of the houses we looked for something to eat since we had nothing since our departure from the pillbox on the Siegfried Line.

     We then continued, passing Schmidt, to the woods line northeast of Kommerscheidt where we dug shallow foxholes. It is my guess that our Company was attached to the 1055th Regiment from this day on. Next morning, Nov. 7th,  the order came to get ready to attack Kommerscheidt. Only light weapons were to be carried with us.  Being gunner No. 1, I had to leave my MG 34 behind since we didn't have enough ammunition for it. Since I was now assigned as the platoon runner, I was issued a signal pistol instead.


    At dawn, heavy German artillery fire hit the village ahead of us, but it was beyond our line of sight. We first moved out to the right keeping close behind the lines of a sister Company. When the shelling suddenly stopped, the Infantrymen jumped out from their cover at the edge of the forest and stormed uphill over open ground towards the village. They immediately were forced down by American rifles and machine guns.

    Our Company moved further to the right into a small valley, where we were stopped by artillery fire. Not far away we heard the noises of tank engines and tracks but with a heavy overcast, we could not recognize whether it originated from friend or foe. Utilizing the underbrush for cover, we made our way towards the first houses. At about 100 yards distance, we assembled for the attack. It was about noon when the order came.
 

    We moved out quickly and ran towards the village. As we passed the orchard by the first house, we noticed many dead soldiers, both German and American. The houses were in all stages of destruction and some were still burning. On the road there were some German tanks, their guns speaking every now and then. Also several disabled American tanks and other vehicles were standing between the buildings. Except for the dead, no American soldiers could be seen and there was no resistance. When we received an order to check the buildings, our unit was forced to spread out. Not seeing any enemy and driven by hunger, we began to search for food and cigarettes.


     Suddenly, American soldiers started climbing out of a large dugout in an nearby orchard with their hands held high and, although I'm not sure, carrying a white flag. There were 10 or 12 of them and they looked demoralized and frightened.  For a few moments, there were only about five of us facing them. When more of our troops arrived, I jumped down into the dugout, which most likely had been a command post, looking for more Americans or possibly more booty. There I found an automatic rifle, an M1, together with a few rounds of ammunition. Now I was armed again, and still had my signal pistol.
 

     In the meantime, our soldiers surrounding the GI's and quickly led them to an area near a house that we had taken in the village. About 20 GI's now had to be taken to the rear. Three or four of our men were to accompany the POWs but nobody would volunteer. This was probably because many GI's were big with strong bodies and their grim look had a frightening effect on us. And last but not least, you don't like to get separated from your unit. Finally a few of our elder comrades were ordered to take the GI's back.

    We now had been in the village for about an hour without having encountered any resistance. We, including our sergeants, were fully occupied with gathering "booty." I noticed our T-Sergeant climbing out of a US tank with a pair of French ladies silk stockings. We then noticed a pile of boxes along the edge of the road and quickly discovered that they contained not ammunition, but food in form of K-rations. We all got bright eyes when we found out how delicious contents were. Many a gas mask was left in Kommerscheidt as the boxes that had held them were filled with canned meat, chocolate and cigarettes.
 

    Suddenly we were thrown back to reality when our tanks opened fire. Our T-Sergeant called me since I was  the runner and questioned whether I was in contact with the rest of the company. When I said no, I was  sharply reprimanded and was sent out to find the rest or the company.  I went went about a 100 yards back to the village without meeting anyone. When I passed one of our tanks, I asked the man looking out of the turret whether he had seen any of the infantry within the last minutes: negative! I didn't risk entering further into the village. I returned to report my findings to the T-Sergeant. He then ordered the platoon to gather in the house next to some trees. We had about ten men in our group. The Sergeant was undecided as to what our next move should be.

    Most of us were busy opening the K-rations. After having having appeased my hunger, I tried to learn a little about my newly captured rifle, I did this by firing a few shots out through one of the broken windows. I was soon stopped by another sharp reproach from the Sergeant. Suddenly we heard the roar of planes approaching as three or four Thunderbolts strafed the village with their canons. Somehow they must have detected our position because they knew exactly which house we were in. Perhaps it was those shots out the window. One of their bombs penetrated the roof and exploded in the courtyard, causing the framework of the house to collapse and part of the chimney to come crashing down through the ceiling. Fearing that the rest of the house might collapse, we rushed outside.

    My comrade Horst jumped ahead of me and into a bomb crater where a dead GI was lying. I stopped at the comer of the house when I saw a P-47 diving down on the building with all guns firing.  I threw myself on the ground behind the house. I stuck my head out and could see the pilot, who dropped a bomb which exploded some 10 yards in front of me. I was paralyzed and couldn't even move my head for a minute. When the Thunderbolt flew off, we ran into the nearby woods which offered some cover.

    Our Sergeant decided to return to the position that we had started from in the morning. This was no problem as long as we had cover, but we had to cross the small open valley before we could gain the shelter of the woods. While most of us managed to run quickly cross the steep 100 yards crossing the valley before we could be discovered by the P-47s, our older Alsatian comrade Wassner had great problems. Heavily packed with his rifle and "booty" and hampered by his long overcoat, he painfully crossed the slippery slope often stepping on his coat.

     In this predicament, a P-47 showed up dropping a bomb which exploded a few yards behind Wassner. Caught up in the air pressure he was whirled up and fell back on the soft grass and kept lying there not moving. Since we assumed that he was dead, nobody went back to help. Anyway, it would have been suicide. The other day we learned that he wasn't hurt at all, probably because he was so exhausted and then paralyzed by the explosion. This probably saved his life.  

     Cautiously we proceeded through the woods thankful for the cover it provided from the planes. At dawn we were back at the place we had departed from the previous morning. We intended to stay there over night. Shortly before I reached my shallow foxhole, I went some 30 yards further into the wooded slope due to a human need. At the most unfavorable moment, a burst of shellfire hit our position placing me in a very unpleasant predicament. This was probably caused by my comrades who more than likely settled in carelessly and made some noise which invited the burst of shellfire.

     In the darkness, one could see the muzzle flash of the enemy weapons at short distance. The sudden attack lasted a few minutes only and was then followed by a ghostly silence. From my remote position, I could hear the whining of a wounded comrade which soon stopped. Lying on the ground, I waited several minutes: nothing happened. First softly, then loudly, I called my comrades: no reply. Except for the natural noise of the woods, there was no sign of friend or foe.

    Cautiously I crawled back to the path that we had used coming in: nothing! On arms and legs I continued for a while until I heard voices. Coming closer I recognized German voices! This was a great relief for me because I felt damned lonesome. There were two or three Germans putting a bazooka in position. They told me how to get to a command pillbox which was not too far away. When I reported to the officer inside, he doubted my story and rudely told me to get back to my company in Kommerscheidt. I was to accompany two slightly wounded soldiers to the medical aid station in a pillbox at Gerstenhof. 

    We three tried to find our way through the dark woods. Luckily we ran into a horse drawn field kitchen heading for the same destination. I delivered the two wounded to the aid station and offered some of my "booty" cigarettes to the doctors which they desirously accepted. They sent me to a nearby farmhouse being used as a collection point for stragglers.  Here, in the cow stable and in spite of the poor smell, it was a real luxury to spend the night sleeping on dry straw. During the night a few more stragglers arrived in the stable, amongst them being my comrade Horst. By morning, there were about a dozen more arrivals from various units.

    When daylight came, a sergeant ordered us outside on the road. He told us that we now formed a so called "fighting group" and would be sent to a mill (Lucas- or Mestrenger mill, I don't remember). While waiting for the order to proceed, I came to an understanding with Horst. We decided that we would rather try to get to our company in Kommerscheidt rather than to go with the mixed "bunch". We asked the sergeant for permission to go back into the stable to pick up some gear that we had left there. He gave us 5 minutes. In the stable, Horst and I jumped over a manure pile at the rear of the building and ran into the nearby woods where it was not likely that we would be detected by the others.

    We then proceeded through the forest in an eastern direction and after half a mile of walking, we reached the road leading to Schmidt. In the meantime, the skies cleared and soon the P-47s showed up controlling the road to Schmidt. We ran through a ditch parallel to the road hoping that the fruit trees alongside would give us protection from aircraft. Since the distance between each tree was about twenty yards and since the trees were almost without leaves, the protection was poor.

    Some 100 yards ahead of us, another lone German soldier was going in the same direction that we were. He didn't realize how easily he could be spotted from the air. We watched as the Thunderbolts attacked him from all sides until he no longer moved. For us, it became obvious that we would be next if we were discovered. We huddled in the ditch and remained motionless until the planes flew off. Checking all around us, then after listening carefully for planes, we moved out slowly. After passing our fallen comrade, we finally approached the first houses of Schmidt. There we saw a boy who looked about eight years old lying dead on the road. He was still holding a basket in his hand. Most likely he was sent to pick up something to eat from the deserted village.

    Near the first house on the dirt road to the north, we met what was left of our company. The company was huddled in a ditch on the opposite side of the road. Our company commander was delighted to gain two more men to add to the twenty that he had left. He told us that we were to stay in this position until further orders were given. Soon the order came to return to Kommerscheidt and keep the village occupied during the night. At dawn we cautiously proceeded to Kommerscheidt which was now under sporadic shelling by American artillery. In one of the fairly preserved buildings at the southern edge of the town, we established our "defending position".

    Most of the men tried to find shelter in the basement which promised the best protection, but there wasn't enough space for all. Four or five of us went into the living room and stretched out on the wooden floor. I just had lain down and covered myself with my blanket when the Company Commander declared that we couldn't secure the village if the whole group remained in one building. One of the platoons would have to move to the opposite end of the town. The platoon leaders tossed a coin and our platoon, the second, had to go.

    Since it was dark, about 1900 hours, we formed a tightly closed single column and ran the several hundred yards through the village. Halfway through we were hit by an artillery round and comrade Sippl was killed. This we only realized after we had reached a house at the edge of the village and took shelter in the basement. The room had served a first-aid station for the Americans and a wounded GI laying was still lying in the straw on the floor, groaning with pain. He was still hooked up to an transfusion bottle but it was empty however.

    In the adjacent barn, there were three or four more wounded GI's lying in the hay. The size of the basement was only about fifteen square yards and with the wounded GI occupying a great deal of the space, there was  little room for us. Our sergeant therefore decided to move the GI out of the basement and into the barn where he could be with his comrades.

     A new problem developed after a large foxhole was discovered about 20 yards from the house in the apple orchard. To keep any American advance from taking advantage of it, troops would have to remain in it overnight. Since it seemed unlikely that the Americans would attack during the night, the sergeant thought placing a two man guard there would be adequate. This guard was to be replaced on a two hour basis. All others could sleep in the basement. Since I was in good shape, I was chosen to stay awake and take care of the changing of the guard.

    The first two guards went on duty at 2000 hours.  Not far away some German tanks were positioned on the road and during the night they would run their engines occasionally to warm up the inside. The noise of the engines always produced some enemy fire which would hit very close to us. When at 2200, it was time for the second two guards to replace the first, shouts failed to raise any response and since it was quite dark, nothing could be seen. The sergeant then decided that the next guards could remain inside halfway up on the staircase which was still intact. From there it was possible to observe the outside. The next morning at dawn we saw that the foxhole had a taken direct hit and that explained why there was no reply to the shouting,

    The events of the previous days and the sight of so many dead around the buildings of Kommerscheidt (in many places American and German dead were lying beside each other) caused severe depression in all of us. The short burst of enthusiasm created by the retaking of the village was gone. I was especially concerned with the condition of the wounded GI's in the barn. Obviously they were severely wounded and some had fallen into comas. Others were just barely conscious. One lifted his blanket to show me his legs, or what was left after being run over by a tank. I asked him, "Can I help you"?  All he could reply was, "Water." We didn't have enough water for all of them, not to mention any possible offer of medical help.

    Soon the order was given to proceed and we had to leave the helpless to their fate. We doubted if they would make it.  The shelling by the Americans had intensified and our tanks were firing as well. While passing through the village, we saw our fallen comrade Sippl and noticed that a shell fragment had hit him just below his steel helmet. Then we closed in with the rest of the company and crossed a small valley east of Kommerscheidt and then followed the road down through Froitscheidt until we reached Zweifallshammer.

     Again the day was cold and misty with clouds hanging low, so there was no air activity. In the afternoon we arrived in Zweifallshammer where we met another German unit. We spent the night in the barn, exhausted and tired but fell asleep in spite of artillery fire.

    Next morning we moved on keeping a measured distance between each of us as we moved upward out of the Kall valley. Continuous artillery fire forced us to hit the ground often. The narrow gorge made the sounds of the explosions seem twice as loud. More or less apathetically we struggled forward for about two miles and then had to climb up a steep wooded slope until we arrived at the edge of the forest. It was near the point where the Kall trail from Vossenack enters the woods.

    The gunfire from American light arms was getting closer and closer to our position with the bullets hitting the ground only one to two yards from us. It was obvious that we had been spotted and we could no longer stay where we were. There was only one chance to get out and that was by going to the right (south) to the end of a courtyard which was about ten yards distance and which contained a rather large dung hill. This big dung hill was surrounded by a stone wall about a yard and a half high. We had to get behind this wall to get any cover from the direct fire coming our way.

    I started first and after crawling a few yards, looked around and spotted an American soldier crawling toward our machine gunner about ten yards away. When he reached the gunner, he turned his body over, but our man was already dead. The GI hadn't noticed us since he had crawled in from another direction. When I reached the manure pile, I was unable to crawl over it because it was so slippery. I got to my feet and jumped over the pile landing safely behind the wall. Here our sergeant and two others, God knows how, had already found cover. Horst followed a few minutes later. Our medic would be next to try to make it.

   Each time when the German shells started falling, the Americans went into full cover and their firing stopped for a moment. The medic took advantage of one of these intervals and tried to make it over the wall. He was hit by a shell-splinter however, but managed to make it. A little later the German fire ceased. Obviously they had given us up for dead since we were long overdue. Then the Americans stopped firin  Maybe it was more from embarrassment or humiliation that, in looking up at a grim-faced GI,  I exclaimed, "The war is over!!"  For that remark, he gave me a slap in the face and tore off the anti-aircraft medal that I had on my jacket. But with German shells still coming in around us, the GI's were in a hurry and made us run as we headed toward the nearby church. As we ran, we passed three of our comrades lying dead on the road. When we saw that there were some 40 to 50 GI's in the damaged buildings alongside the road, we realized that we never had a chance but we couldn't complain about our luck.g as well.

    The Americans were now calling out to us in German urging us to surrender since they thought we didn't have a chance to make it out of there. They repeated the call many times but none of us considered giving up. When a mixture of rain and snow started to fall, we figured as soon as it got dark we could make it out of there. We still had a way out to the south. We would have to run through a small orchard and then downhill through a meadow to reach our foxholes, some half a mile away.

    After the Americans waited for some minutes for our surrender and when none came, they reopened with their heavy fire. This produced a response from the German artillery as well. The Americans were now using  mortars and the hits were coming closer and closer. Horst get fed up and shouted at our sergeant, "I don't want to die here." In spite of all of his experience on the front line, the sergeant didn’t know what to do. He finally agreed that Horst and I should try to run back to our front line and ask for relief.

    We planned to cross the meadow by running for short distances during the few seconds when German shells were hitting and the GI's went for cover. We took off our overcoats and put everything aside that could possible slow us down with the exception of our steel helmets. We started crawling out from behind the wall and used what remained of the apple trees in the orchard for cover. After some 20 yards, Horst looked back and noticed about twenty GI's with their rifles in firing position moving in toward the hiding place of our comrades. Horst yelled, "Sergeant Shoot!" But it was too late and useless. With Horst's shouting, the Americans now knew where we were as well and within seconds we were looking into their rifle barrels. We got up with arms raised.

    Arriving at the church we were led into the vestry, which showed little damage. We were checked for weapons and any sharp objects and then questioned. "Where is your unit positioned, where are your tanks and artillery?" Our answers were correct but had little significance, "We came from the edge of the forest (which was all around) and we have no knowledge as to where our artillery is positioned." Our wounded medic was allowed to treat his wounds. He had been hit by nine small shell splinters but was still able to walk.

     We were led through the damaged church and had to run a short distance into a large basement, most likely a school building. The village was still under constant German shelling. After we arrived in the basement, an enraged GI came over and harshly tore off my steel helmet and threw it on the floor. Here we were more intensely interrogated. Obviously the cellar was a command post as it had officers present and a few radio sets in operation. For awhile the situation was tense and we prisoners were becoming quite nervous.

    With two MP's as guards, we were led through the village which was likely the town of Germeter. In a tightly closed file, we keep moving through the darkness, hitting to the ground every now and then when German shells hit close. Leaving the road, we then went down a steep wooded slope with both prisoners and guards often slipping and falling to the ground. I don't think the guards would have noticed if one of us would have stayed down and dropped out of the column, but where was there to go? The terrible ordeal that we had been through in the past hours had left us in a strange lethargy.

    Finally we arrived at a small prisoner stockade on a wooded slope. Barbed wire had been wrapped around a group of fir trees forming a five by five yard square enclosure. Here, along with with some other prisoners that had been taken earlier, we spent the long night standing up and leaning against the fir trees. We were exhausted and in a stupor. It was a strange beginning for the two year period that I spent as a Prisoner of War and one that provided many unusual situations and time for a lot of self examination.