The Trommler Story

Our battalion started its long march under the cover of darkness only dispersing as dawn approached and as we reached the streets leading to Langerwehe. With daylight the artillery of the enemy started its deadly barrage accompanied by their low flying planes blasting at our convoy. One of our assault guns goes rattling by in front of us and as it passes it begins its return fire. We were forced to take cover by jumping in some holes along the road but we had to leave behind one of our accompanying vehicles that carried our ammunition belts. It soon was blasted to pieces but with the good luck that our ammunition belts landed almost in our laps.

Our battalion was forced to break up and we take position at the end of the convoy but make it through a railway tunnel only to find the Americans baring our way at the next street. We head for the railroad yards but are attacked by fighter-bombers. Always four Mustangs in quite good formations. Three flight formations attack but our multiple anti-aircraft artillery (4 guns each) put up such a barrage that saves us. We take our hats off to them.

We must keep going so I jump out before the guy beside me as he has the machine-gun and can't move as quickly. We race out but the enemy planes return so we run for the protection of the railroad bridge hoping the steel beams will protect us. Bullets splatter all around us so we run for the railway station house. In the cellar of this house we find some guys from our convoy who were in ahead of us. But no one is in charge so we don't know what action to take. So we wait and take a breather. Finally orders come to keep moving forward.

We walk through the prohibited zone of the artillery through the main street to Merode , then through streets and gardens when infantry fire was coming in. The air is blue coloured and dusty because of the impacts of the shells. The smell of explosives and fire. We are the second wave and in the beginning our attack goes pretty fast. Than the groups are getting differed, some men are separated. There are failures and new formations. I am together with Hoell. Kurt Tost - our third marksman - is with Peter Serve at the machine-gun. They stay behind. Later they told me, that Peter is wounded very badly. Kurt took over the machine - gun. I have to go with Karl-Heinz Hoell.

He is the lance corporal of our group. a truly great soldier on duty, but in action an ace. He has a lot of experience. We came together. On the street, in the gardens, everywhere you look- dead men, ours and American. Often several of them next to each other. We come closer and we have to fight more and more. The Americans fall back. But many of them were overrun or let themselves overrun, then they start fighting again, attacking from the rear and trying to break through. Others stay at their positions or hide themselves in the cellars.

The GI's hope that there will be another American attack. Most of them surrender when we find them, but not all of them. There are some dangerous actions in the short days of November when it gets dark so early. The main line of resistance is now at the edge of the forest. We walk on until we reach the last houses of Merode . It’s strange: The Americans are overpowered, there is no more fear and our men pursue the GI's. The Americans don't feel as poor as we, so Hoell and I go in for another time. We take one more cellar. Some warning shots, then they come out. Three Americans again. We just count two-digit. We go back to our cellar. a Big hallo. Like the others the Americans aren't brought back and have to stay with us in the cellar. Slowly they become quiet. The happenings of the last days made them tired. We smoke together their Lucky Strike and Chesterfield. And together we look at the photos that everybody has.

That night we were told that we had reached the town of Merode. The battered building nearby is a castle. The Americans reached here two days ago, but made it no further. Yesterday they launched a big attack helped by Jabos, tanks and the artillery and almost secured the area but grim fighting from our side stopped them from proceeding further. Seven Sherman tanks were destroyed and the Americans fell back to the forest. Our platoon leader Kurt Streckfuß was badly wounded while fighting the tanks and the leader of our company is also missing. There area is covered with the wounded and the dead.

We have run out of time with this story. There is no longer anyone available to translate the story from German to English. Sorry but the WW2 Vets are no longer with us to do this. To at least have some semblance of the story, I'll just let the partial translation remain. This may be of interest to the reader as it shows the problems that still exist when a word for word translation is made without regard to the actual meaning of the words that are used. Sorry, but this is the best for now. If someone comes along to continue the translation, the correction will be made.

Anyway, his report is about the German counterattack on the village of Merode at the northern edge of the Hürtgen Forest, that's where Albert lives, right at the edge of the Hürtgen Forest. The Big Red One took this village so the Germans sent in the 3 Fallschirmjäger (Paratrooper) Division to push the Americans out again. - this German counterattack came unexpected and turned into one of the bloodiest battles for the US 26th/1st ID. ...... I'm sure you can find more about it when you check Google for "Merode".

It all was part of the American attack out of the forest and into the plain to reach the city of Düren.

We can't think on quite minutes. The cellar where we lay is place of fighting, prison and collecting- room in one. When the sun comes out our first task: the place is to be cleaned of the rivals. I am detailed to Karl-Heinz Hoell again. We vacated the houses in our nearest environment yesterday evening. Thus morning we go farer. One house, broken like all of them. Everywhere are fragments. Some shots. Nothing moves. We go downstairs to the cellar. In the cellar - left by the Americans - a big machinegun. It is located on the lafette, and it sitting at the window in the cellar. It's ready for shooting. They can watch and shoot on the whole street through the village and they had shot there. Then they piled .There's nothing else in the cellar. Behind there is a room, divided with a black curtain like in every cellar. It was furnished as protecting-room and used till the last moments. There maybe we could find something to eat or so.

I turn back the curtain with the gun. I'm hidden in the face. At the same moment an American pounces on me and hits my hand that the gun falls out of my hand. A second shows his gun, takes aim at Hoell- he jumps back on the step – podium - and screams: “hands up!”, like Hoell did it one minute before. Then it goes on with accent: "Do not shoot !” Suddenly there are five rivals. Resistance is senseless. Hoell let his gun fall down and is packed - like me- by the Americans and strained into the darkness. They push the rifle barrel hard into my neck and tell me where I can sit down. The same happens to Hoell. As it becomes quite we see the Light of a candle. Now I can see that they placed us face to face in a way that they put the screws on us. The one who speaks German is a Sergeant with a long gun. He sits outside from us so anytime he Chas the possibility to jump on In the comer an officer with a pistol in his hand. With this he almost demolished my hand. The three others are GL's with their gun between their knees. There they sit with their big red ONE on their sleeve. Now I realize that on my side in the comer is sitting someone else. Someone with yellow mirrors. Someone of us, from another company.

The officer is handing us in a bad way. With his people, too. He forbids to speak. Then the Sergeant has to translate. We are in prison for the second time. Like yesterday we will hold out till our battalion breaks through again and fights again. They are our prisoners and they are treated like prisoners. If they will become a danger for us, they were shoot. Then calm. Secure to outside. Time passes very slowly. Slowly the people relax. The battle outside becomes louder. Around u s are more and more dangerous sounds. In the house upstairs, too. The officer seems to be right. But the day passes by. We talk a little bit. Mostly between the officer translated by the Sergeant with Karl-Heinz Hoell. The lance corporal is a kind of partner, because he has the highest position on our side. So Hoell with his big mouth is our dealer but it isn't bad - Hoell every time gives a contra.

As all realised that the battle becomes quite - the Americans didn't reach their aim - our Americans realise that their plan wouldn't work and that they have to get out here. They create a plan: we leave at night. If we'll meet Germans we'll bring them back and take care that they are treated in a good way as prisoners. Hoell isn't agree with this. If we reach the American border we'll go back to our side. We need their guarantee for that.

Okay. They will get back their guns from us, but before we will make them unusable. Okay. Between that time a man told me that I'm sitting on a dead man. Now I realise that the mattress where we're sitting on is laying on the dead man. He lays under the mattress, the Americans killed him while a similar action before we came. He told us this later.The behaviour between us is getting more and more relaxed. We check the guys of “The Big Red One” although have hunger, but nothing, more to eat. Then we eat the last pickled food from the people who normally live in this house. A picture for gods! Friend and rival - eight people and one pickle-glass. It goes around from one to other. Everybody takes a bit for two or three times and gives it to his neighbour.

During the night the Sergeant goes outside for peering. Several times. Then the officer, too. Finally: Get ready! For the last time we speak about everything and seal it. Word of honour. The officer goes first and takes Hoell with him. Then the others go. As we are in the hall, both return. The moon is shining, it's too much light for our plan. Back into the cellar. Hoell- who has remarked that our people are around us again, realises our chance. He tells the officer that we have to get out here and if it's possible into another cellar. He knows one. During this exciting events we can talk unnoticed. Everything is dear.

We go out for an other time. Now we have the initiative. Hoell is our leader. The officer is behind him. Then a GI, then our third man, then me and behind me a GI. The Sergeant goes on last position. The cellar is a little bit far... There still is everything okay. We tiptoe next to a hedge. Finally very near to us some noise and German words. Now: "Alarm! Americans behind the house!“ is screamed by me into the night. Quickly two or three people of us arrive. The Americans surrendered without any resistance. The officer looks at me like he wants to say: "You break you promised word!” Under normal circumstances I would have told him pardon.

But with this constellation we had no other possibility. Sorry. Be lucky- now you pass it! As we told the situation to the people around us, there is a big hallo. Then we march for eight to the command post of the battalion. We walk with a sign in the wrong way and give back our prisoners. When our story becomes public there really is a big hallo. Five prisoners- one of them an officer- and not the normal way. There arc some smart alecks; too- such things will never happen to them!

When Hoell and me go back to the front we realize: we don’t have any locks on our gun. And with this we brought back our captioners? Maybe they even haven't thought on this or it was equal for them. The time for us to throw the guns away and for taking one American gun with magazine for each of us. They lay there. A dangerous calm. Maybe they stop fire for rescuing the wounded people. Such things really happened. We arrived the forest exit of the place and walk through the dear field as far as it's possible along and protected by the gardens. Very far on right hand side a range of trees. It's a way from the castle to the forest. On the other hand side the left Sherman’s.

We arrive in the forest at the command post of the company and told that we're back. They told us that yesterday it really was a very exciting day. The Americans did again an attack and even attack us with plains and hard guns. But we defeated them. There were dose combats and dead men. Eight wounded men- one of them Helmut Schulz from our group- and four dead. Our musician Helmut Schlimper is dead.

From our group still exist five people, but they aren't divided. Karl Heinz Hoell is ordered to another place, too. Me and the rest have to secure the command post and the place where the wounded men stay. But that means too, to act as registrator and dragger. The materially and powerfully superiority is unbearable. Our group is at the end with our nerves and power. No hour calm, for days nothing to eat. Even hadn't a bottle of tea. Only cigarettes arrive. We get it in 100 pieces per package. Someone brought them to us. I have to take them with me and have to give them to the others.

For everybody enough, because of the lots of deads. The Sherman’s arc still burning and the ammunition, which lays in the near of this, explodes. In spite of this we put everything out of the tanks. It's really surprising what the Americans take with them. But not always the things we need. As I ran on the other side of this way and come back I climb into a Sherman and take an originally packed bag with me. I have a good hope. What is in: a complete uniform. But if it arc clothes than I liked more some underwear. I'm without any power, really ill. My stomach doesn't feel good, I have an ache.

Then it goes on. The artillery attacks us that we think this is our end. Suddenly they arc here again. They arc coming through the forest .We attack them for resistance. But then they arc here again. The men who're laying in front of us have to go out of the way. The Americans make us go back. I'm on the way to bring a wounded person over the dear field with an ambulance- there arc they on the end of the forest. As we go forward again it seems like the Americans arc at the first houses. But they arc stopped. It is a resistance battle with a lot of casualties. Close Combat. Our artillery shoots and stops the following Americans. Then a really rare event: some fighter pilot come here, some FW 190 take part at the battle and breaks- but only for a very short time- the superiority of the American fighters.

I do the order to support the ambulances so well I can do. It's hard. I have to take the way for several times. In the cellar at the command post of the battalion there is the wounded place of our group. The dead men lay under a roof along the house in their tarpaulin- nobody could help them any way. Down in the forest everywhere dead men. Of us and of the Americans. Unrecognisable mutilated and screaming wounded people. That's the hell. We push the rival back into the forest out of a reception place. The HKL is now at the end of the forest. Again back at the front I take place at the rarely occupied HKL. Lt’s dark. As we make a hole into the earth we're attacked by the artillery. The own artillery shoot not far enough! Terrible.

That thing, too. I'm jumping into a hole and duck. As it stops finally and we call after each other we realize that we lost some of us. I look around me and decide to stay in my hole. The one before my had to be a GL, American clothes lay on the ground. I haven't to sit in the water, that's good. Tired and exhausted near the rival. The nerves are strained, but we feel asleep. My body feels bad, maybe I ate something which wasn't good for eat. Late in the night the assault tiptoes along us forward.

First Advent: It’s wet and cold. As it becomes light and I want to take position at my covering trench, I realize: the whole night I sat on a dead GI. With dead feelings you doesn't have any troubles with this. I put something on him and stay at my place. The battle continues again. The Combat is as hard and brutal as it was before. At some places there are some dose combats again. I am told to come to the command post of the company and to secure again like the day before. Then I'm on my way to registration and I realize the balance of the events yesterday. We lost 35 men. 12 wounded men, eight missed men. We miss our ambulance Sergeant- I was in his near and out of our platoon Fritz Tschisgale. 15 men killed in action one of them my friend Sergeant Gerhard Nolde and Sergeant Heinz Lippelt. The company exists only with the half of the people. Exhorted and mixed up. The structure of our company only exists from the rests.

I bring back a wounded soldier, he shots with a machine gun. His hand was shoot. We try to get across the dear field to the end of the town- it's always dangerous. The impacts are near, but he goes on. It's like a phenomena after hurting: if you are wounded you think you are resistant against other hits or so. In the TVP they ask him, if he had wounded himself Lt’s really a silly question! As I go back I stop at our radio operators. They lay in the house I know. Between the people one of our ambulances. I talk a little bit, then I go on.

Twelve steps- not more. Suddenly a flash - a loud sound. A blow like of a hammer hits my leg. I fall down. Red- hot shell splitters are everywhere. Blowing ache in my right leg. I lay down and duck. Shellfire. I think I die. I scream for the ambulance: Medic ....Medic .... Some minutes before I talked to him. He took me into the cellar, breaks my trouser and dresses my wound. It’s over. I 'm alive. As I realize something again I hear: "You had luck! "He lays my arm around his shoulder and totes me down the street of the village.

In the first aid station cellar is full of wounded person. An assistance doctor- who is with us since Lüben and not right in his mind - stand with somebody of the battalion at the window of the cellar. He is the first man who is not very nice and friendly. The horrible work is left for ambulances. My fresh and good bandage stays like it is- there are much more worse things. A friend of mine- a driver of a fighter pilot- from Hamburg is brought in after me. He looks terrible- his head, his upper part of the body, his arms.

In the night we were brought back to Mariaweiler to our main first-aid station place of the fifth regiment. Four laying persons and one who sits in a vehicle which is signed with a red cross. It can't get out of the way of the shell splitters like the other vehicles, too. Sometimes we are very near the shells. In the Field Hospital I received medical treatment and a surgery. As it' s over and I want to know if all shell splitters are out of my leg or not I only receive an unclear answer. Later I noticed that the wound only was opened. Next day this unclear answer is a problem for me. Because I can't answer the questions proposed by the operators in the hospital. The result is that they didn't take the splitter our of my leg, later I have a lot of problems with this.

In the morning Fallschirmfeldlazarett 3, Junkersdorf / Köln. One of the big buildings. The wounded people- it are lots- are laying in the hall with their bloody wound dressings. A very young nurse helps me to go to toilet. After so long time it's really necessary, but I can't do this without help. Every moving aches. It's really embarrassing, because I wear nothing from my stomach to my toes. I thank her bashfully. Later I don't care on my nakedness while I'm bathing our getting a new wound dress. Then in the OP. Like in a slaughterhouse. Everywhere blood. A big hall, one Operation table next to the other. The doctors do what they can- they operate a lot. I lay there and wait. Next to me one is amputated. I watch how they take away his arm. That goes on my nerves. As it's my turn and they can't say something dear they don't decide.