As told to his son Henry:
My father's award for the silver star is for January 13th but I believe the action actually happened after that, the next day or the day after. When I asked my Dad how close he was to the Germans, he said, "Well, when I finally found one of our guys who was alive, I could have reached up and touched the barrel of the German machine-gun."
Seventy Eight years ago today.
TSgt Henry B. Prenger, 30th Division, 120th Regiment, 2nd Battalion, Company G.
I was sitting in a barn, waiting for my dinner, when an officer came in and asked for volunteers. A squad on the outskirts of Thirmont had been cut down by machinegun fire and was laying out in the snow. Nobody could get near them because of the intense fire. A lieutenant came into the barn and asked for volunteers to help him check for wounded and help him to get them back to our lines.
To this day, I have no idea why I volunteered. I had no desire to go anywhere near that town again. But once the words left my mouth, there was no taking them back, and I moved out across the field with this young lieutenant.
It was a miserable cold night, I was exhausted, and again I dealt with snow drifts in places that were up to my hips. We were half way across the field and an 88mm round dropped in the field between me and the lieutenant, who was about 20 yards behind me.
I dove right into a snow drift and hugged the ground waiting for more rounds to follow. The Germans had so many 88mm rounds that they would fire them at a single soldier, and I was convinced they were firing at me, but the next round fell further back, closer to Waimes. The first one had been a short round. They weren't shooting at us.
We got up and started to move again, finally making it to the outskirts of Thirmont. Luckily for us, the squad was not hard to find. The Germans had a machine gun set up in the basement window of a farm house and had opened up at point blank range. The men had gone down in a line and were lying by the farm house, the furthest ones almost right below the barrel of the machine gun.
As we approached the house, we could hear the German troops inside. They seemed to be having a good time, because I could hear a lot of laughter, and I thought that they might have been drinking something to help to keep warm.
When we got close, the lieutenant and I began to crawl through the snow, which had a layer of ice on top of it and made crunching noises every time we moved forward. The noise seemed to echo across the snow, and I couldn't understand why the Germans in the house didn't hear us.
We finally made it up to the soldiers who had been in the ambush and we went to each one, shaking them to see if they were alive. Out of the twelve that had been hit, all but two were dead. It was easy to tell because it was so cold that the dead men's bodies had frozen and they were stiff. I was almost under the barrel of the machine gun, and could very clearly hear the Germans, just feet away from me, speaking inside, when I finally shook one that wasn't frozen.
He gave kind of a start when I grabbed him, but I whispered to him that it was OK, that we were Americans, and I took him by the collar of his coat and began to drag him slowly back away from the house. The lieutenant had found the only other survivor and was dragging him back through the snow as well. I have to think that the Germans were drunk because we made enough noise to wake every German in town, and they were all around us, but we made our way without a problem.
When we were far enough away from the house, the guy I was dragging told me he thought he could walk, which he did, so I helped the lieutenant with the other soldier and together, we carried him back to the aid station in the barn outside of Waimes.
The soldier I had dragged out had been shot in the hand and was missing two of his fingers. He told me that after the Germans had let loose with their machine gun and killed most of his friends, he had been too terrified to move, and he would have frozen to death if we had not come to get him. The other soldier had been shot in the backside. The minute we got them into the warmth of the barn, they both started to bleed profusely, and we helped the medics to patch up the two wounded men.
I stood up, covered with blood, just as the turkey dinners came up from the mess. It was the best thing I have ever eaten. There was turkey and potatoes and stuffing and a piece of pie, all covered in gravy. When I got done, I looked over at two new recruits that had just come up that day. Neither one was eating their dinner, I guess the sight of all the blood had turned their stomachs. "If you're not going to eat that," I said, "I'll take it."
I must have looked like some kind of animal to them. I hadn't shaved in a week, my face was red and frostbitten, I'd slept in the same clothes for almost a month, and I was covered in blood up to my elbows. Both men gave me their dinners without speaking a word and moved across the barn as far away from me as they could get. For the first time in months, I felt completely full, as well I should have because I had three turkey dinners that night.
I was awarded the silver star for grabbing that guy and bringing him back. I never felt like I deserved that. There were so many guys who were braver who never were awarded anything. As to medals, we were all in agreement that the guys that really deserved it were the ones who were killed. They were the true heroes to us, whether they had been with us from the beginning or had only been on the front lines for a couple of minutes.
Contributor: Jerry & Beth (46982159)
-----------
Seventy Eight years ago today, my Dad took part in one of the toughest battles of the war (in any theatre), the fight for a small town called Thirimont in Belgium. Picture of my Dad is about the same age I am today.
Thirimont
On January 13th, we went on the attack again. We had stopped the German advance, and now it was time to push them back and erase the bulge.
Our orders were to attack the town of Thirmont, which was about two miles to the west of our current position in Waimes. Three companies from our battalion attacked, with our company moving across snow covered farm fields in the most frigid conditions I've ever experienced. The fields were wide open, there was a big hill behind the town where the Germans could easily observe our approach, we were outlined in our green uniforms against the white snow, and the artillery rounds were directed with deadly accuracy. We struggled coming across those fields in snow that drifted up to our waist, but we moved as quickly as we could to get out from under the artillery that was ripping our company apart. When we finally made it to the edge of the town, we found that we were the only company to make it that far. The tanks were all stuck in the snow far behind us and the other companies were being torn apart by artillery and small arms fire.
The town and the heights behind the town were held by German paratroopers. We'd faced off before with German paratroopers at Tessy sur Vire in Normandy and we knew how tough they were. When we saw their strange little helmets, we knew we were in for a fight.
We were told that the town must be taken at all costs. The Germans were told that the town must be defended at all costs. The result was one of the bloodiest battles we had ever been in.
We were outnumbered by about four or five to one, we were outgunned in terms of armor, and the Germans held the heights. To send infantry against such odds was madness.
Once we got into the town, we became pinned down almost right away. The houses were mostly made of stone and were about fifty yards apart. The Germans had interlocking machinegun fire between the houses, and we made hard work just getting a foothold, but we did and then we pushed our way from the outskirts to the main street and beyond.
Half of our company was on one side of the main street and half were on the other side and after the first couple of minutes, the fire became so fierce that it was almost impossible to cross that street, either to move forward or to move backward. There was a strong and steady volume of small arms fire such as I had never seen.
We were badly out-numbered and the Germans moved around us desperately trying to push us out of the town. At times, we had Germans in the houses on both sides of us and Germans in the top floor of the house we were in. We fought room to room, sometimes firing in all directions at once.
Lt. Moncrief, relatively new to battle, commanded the company and he proved himself to all of us. We were in the same house together and I saw him in action and he never lost his cool. He was in contact with our battalion commander who kept telling us to hold on, that the other two companies were on their way, but the other two companies never came nor were they ever in a position to offer us support.
Finally, late in the day, everybody realized that reinforcements weren't coming, that the other two companies were pinned down just as bad as we were, and we were given permission to withdraw. By that time, we didn't need permission, we didn't have much choice. Moving out, however, was much easier said than done. Pulling yourself out of a battle that you are so fully engaged in is one of the toughest things to do, and by this time, we were nearly surrounded.
The batteries in our radios were frozen and we could no longer contact half of our company that was on the other side of the road. The fire coming down that road was so ferocious that no living man could cross the street to pass the word that we were moving out. If we could have gotten word to them, there was no way for them to get across the street, the volume of fire was that great. We were low on ammo, it was getting dark, we were surrounded, and we were in serious danger of getting overrun.
Moncrief talked it over with all the officers and sergeants he could gather. As we talked, German Panzer tanks rolled in, running up and down the main street and sticking their muzzles right into the houses that we still held to fire off their fragmentation rounds at point blank range. Moncrief made the decision then that we would pull out with as many men as we could. It meant leaving half of our men to certain capture. It was a hard decision, but it was the right thing to do.
The retreat was not organized, there were so few of us that we couldn't really have any kind of organized retreat. We ran to a barn that was behind the house that we had been fighting in all day and as we ran, the Germans started to hit us with artillery.
A new boy from West Virginia was with me, and just as we made it in the barn, a shell exploded, and a piece of shrapnel sheared through is leg right above the ankle. It sliced through his boot so neatly that the bottom part of his boot with the foot still in it lay neatly where he had taken his last step.
This kid was as tough as nails. He never made a sound. There was no time to make a stretcher, so a couple of us grabbed him up and we made a run for it out of the back of the town with bullets kicking up puffs of snow all around us. Two miles back to our lines, through the deep snow and frigid weather, and we finally got him to an aid station in a barn where some medics had set up camp. Less than a week since he had reached the front lines and he was going home, his life changed forever. And his story was multiplied many times. We lost about three quarters of our company that day, killed, wounded or captured.
The battle of the bulge bled us. In less than half a week, in two major engagements, our company lost more men than had been in the company at the beginning of the fight.
TSgt. Henry B. Prenger
Contributor: Jerry & Beth (46982159)
My father's award for the silver star is for January 13th but I believe the action actually happened after that, the next day or the day after. When I asked my Dad how close he was to the Germans, he said, "Well, when I finally found one of our guys who was alive, I could have reached up and touched the barrel of the German machine-gun."
Seventy Eight years ago today.
TSgt Henry B. Prenger, 30th Division, 120th Regiment, 2nd Battalion, Company G.
I was sitting in a barn, waiting for my dinner, when an officer came in and asked for volunteers. A squad on the outskirts of Thirmont had been cut down by machinegun fire and was laying out in the snow. Nobody could get near them because of the intense fire. A lieutenant came into the barn and asked for volunteers to help him check for wounded and help him to get them back to our lines.
To this day, I have no idea why I volunteered. I had no desire to go anywhere near that town again. But once the words left my mouth, there was no taking them back, and I moved out across the field with this young lieutenant.
It was a miserable cold night, I was exhausted, and again I dealt with snow drifts in places that were up to my hips. We were half way across the field and an 88mm round dropped in the field between me and the lieutenant, who was about 20 yards behind me.
I dove right into a snow drift and hugged the ground waiting for more rounds to follow. The Germans had so many 88mm rounds that they would fire them at a single soldier, and I was convinced they were firing at me, but the next round fell further back, closer to Waimes. The first one had been a short round. They weren't shooting at us.
We got up and started to move again, finally making it to the outskirts of Thirmont. Luckily for us, the squad was not hard to find. The Germans had a machine gun set up in the basement window of a farm house and had opened up at point blank range. The men had gone down in a line and were lying by the farm house, the furthest ones almost right below the barrel of the machine gun.
As we approached the house, we could hear the German troops inside. They seemed to be having a good time, because I could hear a lot of laughter, and I thought that they might have been drinking something to help to keep warm.
When we got close, the lieutenant and I began to crawl through the snow, which had a layer of ice on top of it and made crunching noises every time we moved forward. The noise seemed to echo across the snow, and I couldn't understand why the Germans in the house didn't hear us.
We finally made it up to the soldiers who had been in the ambush and we went to each one, shaking them to see if they were alive. Out of the twelve that had been hit, all but two were dead. It was easy to tell because it was so cold that the dead men's bodies had frozen and they were stiff. I was almost under the barrel of the machine gun, and could very clearly hear the Germans, just feet away from me, speaking inside, when I finally shook one that wasn't frozen.
He gave kind of a start when I grabbed him, but I whispered to him that it was OK, that we were Americans, and I took him by the collar of his coat and began to drag him slowly back away from the house. The lieutenant had found the only other survivor and was dragging him back through the snow as well. I have to think that the Germans were drunk because we made enough noise to wake every German in town, and they were all around us, but we made our way without a problem.
When we were far enough away from the house, the guy I was dragging told me he thought he could walk, which he did, so I helped the lieutenant with the other soldier and together, we carried him back to the aid station in the barn outside of Waimes.
The soldier I had dragged out had been shot in the hand and was missing two of his fingers. He told me that after the Germans had let loose with their machine gun and killed most of his friends, he had been too terrified to move, and he would have frozen to death if we had not come to get him. The other soldier had been shot in the backside. The minute we got them into the warmth of the barn, they both started to bleed profusely, and we helped the medics to patch up the two wounded men.
I stood up, covered with blood, just as the turkey dinners came up from the mess. It was the best thing I have ever eaten. There was turkey and potatoes and stuffing and a piece of pie, all covered in gravy. When I got done, I looked over at two new recruits that had just come up that day. Neither one was eating their dinner, I guess the sight of all the blood had turned their stomachs. "If you're not going to eat that," I said, "I'll take it."
I must have looked like some kind of animal to them. I hadn't shaved in a week, my face was red and frostbitten, I'd slept in the same clothes for almost a month, and I was covered in blood up to my elbows. Both men gave me their dinners without speaking a word and moved across the barn as far away from me as they could get. For the first time in months, I felt completely full, as well I should have because I had three turkey dinners that night.
I was awarded the silver star for grabbing that guy and bringing him back. I never felt like I deserved that. There were so many guys who were braver who never were awarded anything. As to medals, we were all in agreement that the guys that really deserved it were the ones who were killed. They were the true heroes to us, whether they had been with us from the beginning or had only been on the front lines for a couple of minutes.
Contributor: Jerry & Beth (46982159)
-----------
Seventy Eight years ago today, my Dad took part in one of the toughest battles of the war (in any theatre), the fight for a small town called Thirimont in Belgium. Picture of my Dad is about the same age I am today.
Thirimont
On January 13th, we went on the attack again. We had stopped the German advance, and now it was time to push them back and erase the bulge.
Our orders were to attack the town of Thirmont, which was about two miles to the west of our current position in Waimes. Three companies from our battalion attacked, with our company moving across snow covered farm fields in the most frigid conditions I've ever experienced. The fields were wide open, there was a big hill behind the town where the Germans could easily observe our approach, we were outlined in our green uniforms against the white snow, and the artillery rounds were directed with deadly accuracy. We struggled coming across those fields in snow that drifted up to our waist, but we moved as quickly as we could to get out from under the artillery that was ripping our company apart. When we finally made it to the edge of the town, we found that we were the only company to make it that far. The tanks were all stuck in the snow far behind us and the other companies were being torn apart by artillery and small arms fire.
The town and the heights behind the town were held by German paratroopers. We'd faced off before with German paratroopers at Tessy sur Vire in Normandy and we knew how tough they were. When we saw their strange little helmets, we knew we were in for a fight.
We were told that the town must be taken at all costs. The Germans were told that the town must be defended at all costs. The result was one of the bloodiest battles we had ever been in.
We were outnumbered by about four or five to one, we were outgunned in terms of armor, and the Germans held the heights. To send infantry against such odds was madness.
Once we got into the town, we became pinned down almost right away. The houses were mostly made of stone and were about fifty yards apart. The Germans had interlocking machinegun fire between the houses, and we made hard work just getting a foothold, but we did and then we pushed our way from the outskirts to the main street and beyond.
Half of our company was on one side of the main street and half were on the other side and after the first couple of minutes, the fire became so fierce that it was almost impossible to cross that street, either to move forward or to move backward. There was a strong and steady volume of small arms fire such as I had never seen.
We were badly out-numbered and the Germans moved around us desperately trying to push us out of the town. At times, we had Germans in the houses on both sides of us and Germans in the top floor of the house we were in. We fought room to room, sometimes firing in all directions at once.
Lt. Moncrief, relatively new to battle, commanded the company and he proved himself to all of us. We were in the same house together and I saw him in action and he never lost his cool. He was in contact with our battalion commander who kept telling us to hold on, that the other two companies were on their way, but the other two companies never came nor were they ever in a position to offer us support.
Finally, late in the day, everybody realized that reinforcements weren't coming, that the other two companies were pinned down just as bad as we were, and we were given permission to withdraw. By that time, we didn't need permission, we didn't have much choice. Moving out, however, was much easier said than done. Pulling yourself out of a battle that you are so fully engaged in is one of the toughest things to do, and by this time, we were nearly surrounded.
The batteries in our radios were frozen and we could no longer contact half of our company that was on the other side of the road. The fire coming down that road was so ferocious that no living man could cross the street to pass the word that we were moving out. If we could have gotten word to them, there was no way for them to get across the street, the volume of fire was that great. We were low on ammo, it was getting dark, we were surrounded, and we were in serious danger of getting overrun.
Moncrief talked it over with all the officers and sergeants he could gather. As we talked, German Panzer tanks rolled in, running up and down the main street and sticking their muzzles right into the houses that we still held to fire off their fragmentation rounds at point blank range. Moncrief made the decision then that we would pull out with as many men as we could. It meant leaving half of our men to certain capture. It was a hard decision, but it was the right thing to do.
The retreat was not organized, there were so few of us that we couldn't really have any kind of organized retreat. We ran to a barn that was behind the house that we had been fighting in all day and as we ran, the Germans started to hit us with artillery.
A new boy from West Virginia was with me, and just as we made it in the barn, a shell exploded, and a piece of shrapnel sheared through is leg right above the ankle. It sliced through his boot so neatly that the bottom part of his boot with the foot still in it lay neatly where he had taken his last step.
This kid was as tough as nails. He never made a sound. There was no time to make a stretcher, so a couple of us grabbed him up and we made a run for it out of the back of the town with bullets kicking up puffs of snow all around us. Two miles back to our lines, through the deep snow and frigid weather, and we finally got him to an aid station in a barn where some medics had set up camp. Less than a week since he had reached the front lines and he was going home, his life changed forever. And his story was multiplied many times. We lost about three quarters of our company that day, killed, wounded or captured.
The battle of the bulge bled us. In less than half a week, in two major engagements, our company lost more men than had been in the company at the beginning of the fight.
TSgt. Henry B. Prenger
Contributor: Jerry & Beth (46982159)
As told to his son Henry:
My father's award for the silver star is for January 13th but I believe the action actually happened after that, the next day or the day after. When I asked my Dad how close he was to the Germans, he said, "Well, when I finally found one of our guys who was alive, I could have reached up and touched the barrel of the German machine-gun."
Seventy Eight years ago today.
TSgt Henry B. Prenger, 30th Division, 120th Regiment, 2nd Battalion, Company G.
I was sitting in a barn, waiting for my dinner, when an officer came in and asked for volunteers. A squad on the outskirts of Thirmont had been cut down by machinegun fire and was laying out in the snow. Nobody could get near them because of the intense fire. A lieutenant came into the barn and asked for volunteers to help him check for wounded and help him to get them back to our lines.
To this day, I have no idea why I volunteered. I had no desire to go anywhere near that town again. But once the words left my mouth, there was no taking them back, and I moved out across the field with this young lieutenant.
It was a miserable cold night, I was exhausted, and again I dealt with snow drifts in places that were up to my hips. We were half way across the field and an 88mm round dropped in the field between me and the lieutenant, who was about 20 yards behind me.
I dove right into a snow drift and hugged the ground waiting for more rounds to follow. The Germans had so many 88mm rounds that they would fire them at a single soldier, and I was convinced they were firing at me, but the next round fell further back, closer to Waimes. The first one had been a short round. They weren't shooting at us.
We got up and started to move again, finally making it to the outskirts of Thirmont. Luckily for us, the squad was not hard to find. The Germans had a machine gun set up in the basement window of a farm house and had opened up at point blank range. The men had gone down in a line and were lying by the farm house, the furthest ones almost right below the barrel of the machine gun.
As we approached the house, we could hear the German troops inside. They seemed to be having a good time, because I could hear a lot of laughter, and I thought that they might have been drinking something to help to keep warm.
When we got close, the lieutenant and I began to crawl through the snow, which had a layer of ice on top of it and made crunching noises every time we moved forward. The noise seemed to echo across the snow, and I couldn't understand why the Germans in the house didn't hear us.
We finally made it up to the soldiers who had been in the ambush and we went to each one, shaking them to see if they were alive. Out of the twelve that had been hit, all but two were dead. It was easy to tell because it was so cold that the dead men's bodies had frozen and they were stiff. I was almost under the barrel of the machine gun, and could very clearly hear the Germans, just feet away from me, speaking inside, when I finally shook one that wasn't frozen.
He gave kind of a start when I grabbed him, but I whispered to him that it was OK, that we were Americans, and I took him by the collar of his coat and began to drag him slowly back away from the house. The lieutenant had found the only other survivor and was dragging him back through the snow as well. I have to think that the Germans were drunk because we made enough noise to wake every German in town, and they were all around us, but we made our way without a problem.
When we were far enough away from the house, the guy I was dragging told me he thought he could walk, which he did, so I helped the lieutenant with the other soldier and together, we carried him back to the aid station in the barn outside of Waimes.
The soldier I had dragged out had been shot in the hand and was missing two of his fingers. He told me that after the Germans had let loose with their machine gun and killed most of his friends, he had been too terrified to move, and he would have frozen to death if we had not come to get him. The other soldier had been shot in the backside. The minute we got them into the warmth of the barn, they both started to bleed profusely, and we helped the medics to patch up the two wounded men.
I stood up, covered with blood, just as the turkey dinners came up from the mess. It was the best thing I have ever eaten. There was turkey and potatoes and stuffing and a piece of pie, all covered in gravy. When I got done, I looked over at two new recruits that had just come up that day. Neither one was eating their dinner, I guess the sight of all the blood had turned their stomachs. "If you're not going to eat that," I said, "I'll take it."
I must have looked like some kind of animal to them. I hadn't shaved in a week, my face was red and frostbitten, I'd slept in the same clothes for almost a month, and I was covered in blood up to my elbows. Both men gave me their dinners without speaking a word and moved across the barn as far away from me as they could get. For the first time in months, I felt completely full, as well I should have because I had three turkey dinners that night.
I was awarded the silver star for grabbing that guy and bringing him back. I never felt like I deserved that. There were so many guys who were braver who never were awarded anything. As to medals, we were all in agreement that the guys that really deserved it were the ones who were killed. They were the true heroes to us, whether they had been with us from the beginning or had only been on the front lines for a couple of minutes.
Contributor: Jerry & Beth (46982159)
-----------
Seventy Eight years ago today, my Dad took part in one of the toughest battles of the war (in any theatre), the fight for a small town called Thirimont in Belgium. Picture of my Dad is about the same age I am today.
Thirimont
On January 13th, we went on the attack again. We had stopped the German advance, and now it was time to push them back and erase the bulge.
Our orders were to attack the town of Thirmont, which was about two miles to the west of our current position in Waimes. Three companies from our battalion attacked, with our company moving across snow covered farm fields in the most frigid conditions I've ever experienced. The fields were wide open, there was a big hill behind the town where the Germans could easily observe our approach, we were outlined in our green uniforms against the white snow, and the artillery rounds were directed with deadly accuracy. We struggled coming across those fields in snow that drifted up to our waist, but we moved as quickly as we could to get out from under the artillery that was ripping our company apart. When we finally made it to the edge of the town, we found that we were the only company to make it that far. The tanks were all stuck in the snow far behind us and the other companies were being torn apart by artillery and small arms fire.
The town and the heights behind the town were held by German paratroopers. We'd faced off before with German paratroopers at Tessy sur Vire in Normandy and we knew how tough they were. When we saw their strange little helmets, we knew we were in for a fight.
We were told that the town must be taken at all costs. The Germans were told that the town must be defended at all costs. The result was one of the bloodiest battles we had ever been in.
We were outnumbered by about four or five to one, we were outgunned in terms of armor, and the Germans held the heights. To send infantry against such odds was madness.
Once we got into the town, we became pinned down almost right away. The houses were mostly made of stone and were about fifty yards apart. The Germans had interlocking machinegun fire between the houses, and we made hard work just getting a foothold, but we did and then we pushed our way from the outskirts to the main street and beyond.
Half of our company was on one side of the main street and half were on the other side and after the first couple of minutes, the fire became so fierce that it was almost impossible to cross that street, either to move forward or to move backward. There was a strong and steady volume of small arms fire such as I had never seen.
We were badly out-numbered and the Germans moved around us desperately trying to push us out of the town. At times, we had Germans in the houses on both sides of us and Germans in the top floor of the house we were in. We fought room to room, sometimes firing in all directions at once.
Lt. Moncrief, relatively new to battle, commanded the company and he proved himself to all of us. We were in the same house together and I saw him in action and he never lost his cool. He was in contact with our battalion commander who kept telling us to hold on, that the other two companies were on their way, but the other two companies never came nor were they ever in a position to offer us support.
Finally, late in the day, everybody realized that reinforcements weren't coming, that the other two companies were pinned down just as bad as we were, and we were given permission to withdraw. By that time, we didn't need permission, we didn't have much choice. Moving out, however, was much easier said than done. Pulling yourself out of a battle that you are so fully engaged in is one of the toughest things to do, and by this time, we were nearly surrounded.
The batteries in our radios were frozen and we could no longer contact half of our company that was on the other side of the road. The fire coming down that road was so ferocious that no living man could cross the street to pass the word that we were moving out. If we could have gotten word to them, there was no way for them to get across the street, the volume of fire was that great. We were low on ammo, it was getting dark, we were surrounded, and we were in serious danger of getting overrun.
Moncrief talked it over with all the officers and sergeants he could gather. As we talked, German Panzer tanks rolled in, running up and down the main street and sticking their muzzles right into the houses that we still held to fire off their fragmentation rounds at point blank range. Moncrief made the decision then that we would pull out with as many men as we could. It meant leaving half of our men to certain capture. It was a hard decision, but it was the right thing to do.
The retreat was not organized, there were so few of us that we couldn't really have any kind of organized retreat. We ran to a barn that was behind the house that we had been fighting in all day and as we ran, the Germans started to hit us with artillery.
A new boy from West Virginia was with me, and just as we made it in the barn, a shell exploded, and a piece of shrapnel sheared through is leg right above the ankle. It sliced through his boot so neatly that the bottom part of his boot with the foot still in it lay neatly where he had taken his last step.
This kid was as tough as nails. He never made a sound. There was no time to make a stretcher, so a couple of us grabbed him up and we made a run for it out of the back of the town with bullets kicking up puffs of snow all around us. Two miles back to our lines, through the deep snow and frigid weather, and we finally got him to an aid station in a barn where some medics had set up camp. Less than a week since he had reached the front lines and he was going home, his life changed forever. And his story was multiplied many times. We lost about three quarters of our company that day, killed, wounded or captured.
The battle of the bulge bled us. In less than half a week, in two major engagements, our company lost more men than had been in the company at the beginning of the fight.
TSgt. Henry B. Prenger
Contributor: Jerry & Beth (46982159)
My father's award for the silver star is for January 13th but I believe the action actually happened after that, the next day or the day after. When I asked my Dad how close he was to the Germans, he said, "Well, when I finally found one of our guys who was alive, I could have reached up and touched the barrel of the German machine-gun."
Seventy Eight years ago today.
TSgt Henry B. Prenger, 30th Division, 120th Regiment, 2nd Battalion, Company G.
I was sitting in a barn, waiting for my dinner, when an officer came in and asked for volunteers. A squad on the outskirts of Thirmont had been cut down by machinegun fire and was laying out in the snow. Nobody could get near them because of the intense fire. A lieutenant came into the barn and asked for volunteers to help him check for wounded and help him to get them back to our lines.
To this day, I have no idea why I volunteered. I had no desire to go anywhere near that town again. But once the words left my mouth, there was no taking them back, and I moved out across the field with this young lieutenant.
It was a miserable cold night, I was exhausted, and again I dealt with snow drifts in places that were up to my hips. We were half way across the field and an 88mm round dropped in the field between me and the lieutenant, who was about 20 yards behind me.
I dove right into a snow drift and hugged the ground waiting for more rounds to follow. The Germans had so many 88mm rounds that they would fire them at a single soldier, and I was convinced they were firing at me, but the next round fell further back, closer to Waimes. The first one had been a short round. They weren't shooting at us.
We got up and started to move again, finally making it to the outskirts of Thirmont. Luckily for us, the squad was not hard to find. The Germans had a machine gun set up in the basement window of a farm house and had opened up at point blank range. The men had gone down in a line and were lying by the farm house, the furthest ones almost right below the barrel of the machine gun.
As we approached the house, we could hear the German troops inside. They seemed to be having a good time, because I could hear a lot of laughter, and I thought that they might have been drinking something to help to keep warm.
When we got close, the lieutenant and I began to crawl through the snow, which had a layer of ice on top of it and made crunching noises every time we moved forward. The noise seemed to echo across the snow, and I couldn't understand why the Germans in the house didn't hear us.
We finally made it up to the soldiers who had been in the ambush and we went to each one, shaking them to see if they were alive. Out of the twelve that had been hit, all but two were dead. It was easy to tell because it was so cold that the dead men's bodies had frozen and they were stiff. I was almost under the barrel of the machine gun, and could very clearly hear the Germans, just feet away from me, speaking inside, when I finally shook one that wasn't frozen.
He gave kind of a start when I grabbed him, but I whispered to him that it was OK, that we were Americans, and I took him by the collar of his coat and began to drag him slowly back away from the house. The lieutenant had found the only other survivor and was dragging him back through the snow as well. I have to think that the Germans were drunk because we made enough noise to wake every German in town, and they were all around us, but we made our way without a problem.
When we were far enough away from the house, the guy I was dragging told me he thought he could walk, which he did, so I helped the lieutenant with the other soldier and together, we carried him back to the aid station in the barn outside of Waimes.
The soldier I had dragged out had been shot in the hand and was missing two of his fingers. He told me that after the Germans had let loose with their machine gun and killed most of his friends, he had been too terrified to move, and he would have frozen to death if we had not come to get him. The other soldier had been shot in the backside. The minute we got them into the warmth of the barn, they both started to bleed profusely, and we helped the medics to patch up the two wounded men.
I stood up, covered with blood, just as the turkey dinners came up from the mess. It was the best thing I have ever eaten. There was turkey and potatoes and stuffing and a piece of pie, all covered in gravy. When I got done, I looked over at two new recruits that had just come up that day. Neither one was eating their dinner, I guess the sight of all the blood had turned their stomachs. "If you're not going to eat that," I said, "I'll take it."
I must have looked like some kind of animal to them. I hadn't shaved in a week, my face was red and frostbitten, I'd slept in the same clothes for almost a month, and I was covered in blood up to my elbows. Both men gave me their dinners without speaking a word and moved across the barn as far away from me as they could get. For the first time in months, I felt completely full, as well I should have because I had three turkey dinners that night.
I was awarded the silver star for grabbing that guy and bringing him back. I never felt like I deserved that. There were so many guys who were braver who never were awarded anything. As to medals, we were all in agreement that the guys that really deserved it were the ones who were killed. They were the true heroes to us, whether they had been with us from the beginning or had only been on the front lines for a couple of minutes.
Contributor: Jerry & Beth (46982159)
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Seventy Eight years ago today, my Dad took part in one of the toughest battles of the war (in any theatre), the fight for a small town called Thirimont in Belgium. Picture of my Dad is about the same age I am today.
Thirimont
On January 13th, we went on the attack again. We had stopped the German advance, and now it was time to push them back and erase the bulge.
Our orders were to attack the town of Thirmont, which was about two miles to the west of our current position in Waimes. Three companies from our battalion attacked, with our company moving across snow covered farm fields in the most frigid conditions I've ever experienced. The fields were wide open, there was a big hill behind the town where the Germans could easily observe our approach, we were outlined in our green uniforms against the white snow, and the artillery rounds were directed with deadly accuracy. We struggled coming across those fields in snow that drifted up to our waist, but we moved as quickly as we could to get out from under the artillery that was ripping our company apart. When we finally made it to the edge of the town, we found that we were the only company to make it that far. The tanks were all stuck in the snow far behind us and the other companies were being torn apart by artillery and small arms fire.
The town and the heights behind the town were held by German paratroopers. We'd faced off before with German paratroopers at Tessy sur Vire in Normandy and we knew how tough they were. When we saw their strange little helmets, we knew we were in for a fight.
We were told that the town must be taken at all costs. The Germans were told that the town must be defended at all costs. The result was one of the bloodiest battles we had ever been in.
We were outnumbered by about four or five to one, we were outgunned in terms of armor, and the Germans held the heights. To send infantry against such odds was madness.
Once we got into the town, we became pinned down almost right away. The houses were mostly made of stone and were about fifty yards apart. The Germans had interlocking machinegun fire between the houses, and we made hard work just getting a foothold, but we did and then we pushed our way from the outskirts to the main street and beyond.
Half of our company was on one side of the main street and half were on the other side and after the first couple of minutes, the fire became so fierce that it was almost impossible to cross that street, either to move forward or to move backward. There was a strong and steady volume of small arms fire such as I had never seen.
We were badly out-numbered and the Germans moved around us desperately trying to push us out of the town. At times, we had Germans in the houses on both sides of us and Germans in the top floor of the house we were in. We fought room to room, sometimes firing in all directions at once.
Lt. Moncrief, relatively new to battle, commanded the company and he proved himself to all of us. We were in the same house together and I saw him in action and he never lost his cool. He was in contact with our battalion commander who kept telling us to hold on, that the other two companies were on their way, but the other two companies never came nor were they ever in a position to offer us support.
Finally, late in the day, everybody realized that reinforcements weren't coming, that the other two companies were pinned down just as bad as we were, and we were given permission to withdraw. By that time, we didn't need permission, we didn't have much choice. Moving out, however, was much easier said than done. Pulling yourself out of a battle that you are so fully engaged in is one of the toughest things to do, and by this time, we were nearly surrounded.
The batteries in our radios were frozen and we could no longer contact half of our company that was on the other side of the road. The fire coming down that road was so ferocious that no living man could cross the street to pass the word that we were moving out. If we could have gotten word to them, there was no way for them to get across the street, the volume of fire was that great. We were low on ammo, it was getting dark, we were surrounded, and we were in serious danger of getting overrun.
Moncrief talked it over with all the officers and sergeants he could gather. As we talked, German Panzer tanks rolled in, running up and down the main street and sticking their muzzles right into the houses that we still held to fire off their fragmentation rounds at point blank range. Moncrief made the decision then that we would pull out with as many men as we could. It meant leaving half of our men to certain capture. It was a hard decision, but it was the right thing to do.
The retreat was not organized, there were so few of us that we couldn't really have any kind of organized retreat. We ran to a barn that was behind the house that we had been fighting in all day and as we ran, the Germans started to hit us with artillery.
A new boy from West Virginia was with me, and just as we made it in the barn, a shell exploded, and a piece of shrapnel sheared through is leg right above the ankle. It sliced through his boot so neatly that the bottom part of his boot with the foot still in it lay neatly where he had taken his last step.
This kid was as tough as nails. He never made a sound. There was no time to make a stretcher, so a couple of us grabbed him up and we made a run for it out of the back of the town with bullets kicking up puffs of snow all around us. Two miles back to our lines, through the deep snow and frigid weather, and we finally got him to an aid station in a barn where some medics had set up camp. Less than a week since he had reached the front lines and he was going home, his life changed forever. And his story was multiplied many times. We lost about three quarters of our company that day, killed, wounded or captured.
The battle of the bulge bled us. In less than half a week, in two major engagements, our company lost more men than had been in the company at the beginning of the fight.
TSgt. Henry B. Prenger
Contributor: Jerry & Beth (46982159)
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