Sapper, this is interesting for I was not aware that this was a common practice. In answering your question, I would have to agree that I could not do that to a comrade. I have not heard my grandfather mention this practice.

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American by birth, TEXAN by the grace of GOD!

It was not always W-SS truppen. The practice was done in the Ardenne in late 44/45 as well, often by using the bodies of dead Americans as the US medic teams were removing these soldiers to safer quarters. I have also heard about this in Sicily and Italy as well.

E

I have heard this being done in the Pacific theater. Interesting.

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American by birth, TEXAN by the grace of GOD!

Ive also heard if it being done in Russia. "A Squad goes to check out a house. They cautiously enter the house and check for hidden Russians and explosives. Upon finding none, and with the house still full of furniture. A homesick soldier sees a dust-covered piano in the corner of a room and he goes to it. He cautiously opens the door (For lack of proper term) to the keys. He sits at the piano, and plays a few keys. The men gather around and the player pounds more keys--then a sudden explosion--killing the squad."

Ive also heard of barrels of Beer being booby trapped as well. Soldier goes to lift it and boom--it explodes-killing the soldier.

[ 23 October 2002, 03:26 PM: Message edited by: C.Evans ]

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Lost are only those, who abandon themselves) Hans-Ulrich Rudel.

Hello again.

Thanks for all your answers, We found the German booby traps devilish cunning. The S mine was a terrible weapon, and no one could ever say they could clear them with ease, The Schu mine was a very difficult weapon to find, and to make safe, it was a small wooden box containing explosives, just enough of a charge to blow a man's foot off or if he was unlucky both feet off,

They were made of wood and could not be detected, we tried everything to clear them safely, without much success, I may add. The Schu mine had one other thing going for it, The idea of mines of this nature is not to kill the enemy, it is to wound them, and by so doing overload the services. The most terrible thing about the Schu mine was that it almost always blew the feet off, and then left the remaining bone split apart rather like when a stick of Rhubarb goes when you cut into it.

The other terrible thing was the loss of the young men's genitals. For that was the saddest thing one could ever witness, for those young men so afflicted, there would be no happy marriage or children of their own. Not Bloody funny!

The accepted manner of clearing Schu mines was to prod in front of you with a bayonet, hoping that you would not prod it in the wrong place, for bending over it was certain death. If you would like a pleasant evening's work, try prodding for Schu mines under heavy mortar fire, it is certainly exciting, if you like that sort of thing.
Any views on this subject?
Sapper Brian.

Hello again.

Thanks for all your answers, We found the German booby traps devilish cunning. The S mine was a terrible weapon, and no one could ever say they could clear them with ease, The Schu mine was a very difficult weapon to find, and to make safe, it was a small wooden box containing explosives, just enough of a charge to blow a man's foot off or if he was unlucky both feet off,

They were made of wood and could not be detected, we tried everything to clear them safely, without much success, I may add. The Schu mine had one other thing going for it, The idea of mines of this nature is not to kill the enemy, it is to wound them, and by so doing overload the services. The most terrible thing about the Schu mine was that it almost always blew the feet off, and then left the remaining bone split apart rather like when a stick of Rhubarb goes when you cut into it.

The other terrible thing was the loss of the young men's genitals. For that was the saddest thing one could ever witness, for those young men so afflicted, there would be no happy marriage or children of their own. Not Bloody funny!

The accepted manner of clearing Schu mines was to prod in front of you with a bayonet, hoping that you would not prod it in the wrong place, for bending over it was certain death. If you would like a pleasant evening's work, try prodding for Schu mines under heavy mortar fire, it is certainly exciting, if you like that sort of thing.
Any views on this subject?
Sapper Brian.

Ive also heard of Shuh mines and Glass mines. All I can say is that im glad I wasnt A Tommy or a G.I. having to do that kind of job at the end of a bayonet. You guys sure had lots of Cran, and have all of my respect. [img]smile.gif[/img]

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Lost are only those, who abandon themselves) Hans-Ulrich Rudel.

Totally agree. The Germans usually tried to cover minefields with a heavy machine gun. Can't imagine having to clear up mines with the brrrrp sound of the MG42.

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American by birth, TEXAN by the grace of GOD!

Hi Again.Your comments are very interesting indeed. Now have a look at this and let me know what you think about such bizarre events.

The American.
The most willing prisoner

After finding the dead SS officer spread out on the floor, waiting for some idiot to move him, we now proceeded with even greater care. We moved on to a hay-loft, a door that had very narrow steps leading up to the loft from the outside. On the left hand side of this outhouse was an open part of the building containing farm implements, to the right was the stairs. Now! I can still see those steps, grey in colour and worn from constant use, the treads of the stairs hollowed by years of scuffing farmers boots, a nice door, Just what we wanted!

We had both decided that we would get it off its hinges, when we heard footsteps coming down the loft steps and a pair of German jackboots appeared. Spud pointed his empty Sten gun at him and I drew my trusty Bowie knife that the Yank had given me, prepared to do this fellow some very serious harm, when a voice called out. "I want to give myself up" in a voice with an American accent, in these unusual circumstances and with great caution, we let him come on. Having seen what they were prepared to do with their own officer, we took no chances. None!

I have never seen anyone so keen to give himself up. He told us that he was the son of an American mother and a German father, while they were on holiday in Germany from the USA, the war had broken out, and he was unable to get home, subsequently, he was called up to serve in the German army, sent to Normandy, he told us that his mum had told him to stay behind and give himself up to the Americans. Having listened to him for some time, he seemed so relieved to be able to surrender that I was quite convinced that he was telling the truth.

We gave him a cigarette and had quite a long chat before turning him in, he was not far away from the American sector, they were quite close, but not close enough. For many years I have wondered what happened to this man? One cannot be anything else but curious when faced with such bizarre events. I would give a lot to trace this man, just to find out what happened to him afterwards? Sometimes I lay awake, and wonder about these people. Did the officer who asked me to cut his leg off live? What happened to the German paratroop doctor? Where did the ‘American’ prisoner end up, was he telling the truth? OR for heavens sake was he telling yarns to get good treatment?

If you are out there somewhere? American that served in the German army? I’ll bet you will remember the two Sappers that captured you on the farmhouse hayloft stairs, and the long conversation we had after. If you were a German? and filled us up with utter rubbish! Then good luck to you! And, I would still like to know what happened to you, for I lay awake at night thinking about these mysteries.

What do our readers think about such odd events? Sometimes, I am a bit reluctant to recall these odd happenings, for there is always the danger of being looked at as though I was telling “Porkies”
Comments anybody?
Sapper Brian.

Hi Sapper--I was rivited with your posting. I have heard of this happening before--only in the cases I heard about--they were told to me by Knights Cross Recipient Remy Schrijnen, who served in SS Sturmbrigade Langemarck.

He told me that there were several Americans that he had served with that were in his unit--which was an SS Anti-Tank unit stationed on the Eastern Front. What you said that the German/American prisoner said--is exactly what Remy told Susanne and myself--when we stayed with him for the day at his home in Hagen.

I'll be glad to tell you more of our visit if you want to know more--also if you ever want to write to him--let me know and his address will be yours.

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Lost are only those, who abandon themselves) Hans-Ulrich Rudel.

I have not heard nor even thought about cases such as that. It is a thought, wondering what ever happen to those Americans who fought for Germany once they became POWs. Thank you Sapper for spurring some thought process. [img]smile.gif[/img]

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American by birth, TEXAN by the grace of GOD!

Hi Sapper,

Thankyou for sharing you story with us, it is great to read!

My Grandad was a Engineer in the New Zealand army in North Africa and Italy. He doesn't remember much now but he does remember a soldier who went though two Italian Winters with out wearing a pair of socks!

He didn't really like the Americans when they had to fight with them at Cassino, I don't know why.

Again, great story!
Thanks! [img]smile.gif[/img]

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David

When you go home
Tell them of us, and say
For your tomorrow
We gave our today.

My Goodness! What a very pleasant lot you all are!
It is always a pleasure to talk and discuss our interest with you.
One thing I forgot to mention!The reason My pal Spud's Sten gun was not loaded, was simply because they were so dangerous. If I remember they cost in old Money about 7/6 to make a trifling sum. I put mine down on the ground and it fired on its own, and parted my best pal, Harry Greys hair. They would not fire when you wanted them to, and did when you did not want them to.
I do often ponder on the mystery of what happens to these characters you meet on the battle field. I tend to forget that it was 58 years ago now. I also tend to forget that as far as I know, I am the last remaining member of my Company. For those that did not perish in Europe have since passed on, not surprising when one remembers that I was one of the youngest, and I am fast approaching 78.
sapper
Next on the list The horror of the falaise pocket. for here was stark carnage, and the depth of human misery, I shall never forget for those images are imprinted deeply on my mind

Sapper, that brings up a good question. Have you had the chance to compare weapons (ie. German, American) and your impressions of them? You mentioned the Sten gun, have you tried the American M3 I think was the designation but was called the grease gun? Or how about a German MP44? Thanks.

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American by birth, TEXAN by the grace of GOD!

"Typhoon day" closing..?

"Flying from dusty airstrips throughout a continuous onslaught, rocket-firing Typhoons kept up their attacks on the trapped armored divisions from dawn to dusk. The effect was devastating - at the end of the ten-day battle, the 100,000 strong German force was decimated."

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Yes, my grandfather mentioned the dreaded Jabos (sp?) plenty of times. He thinks it may have been one of them that knocked out his StuG causing him to lose three fingers in the process. He stated that the only other item of fear was the PIAT (??). He dreaded the order to enter any town with those running around.

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American by birth, TEXAN by the grace of GOD!

Hi Everyone. Thanks for your further info.
To Dallas Tx. You asked about the weapons. Well, here I must be honest, the Germans went for quality, and we went for quantity, or that is how it appeared to us.
The standard British infantry rifle was good, The Standard Machine gun, the Bren, was Ok, for me, it fired a pattern of five, one of them nearly always dead centre, But it was slow in comparison to the Spandau. The Sten was rubbish, that is all I can say about it.

By the way, my spelling of German names leaves a lot to be desired! I cannot distinguish between the makes of Spandau. For us, they were just the German machine gun, very good indeed, and with a tremendous rate of fire. I have seen a comrade cut in half at the waist, when he caught a burst.

There was one other German light machine gun that was envied by the British and that was the, (Here I go again) “Schmiezer” or something like that. It was light and beautifully balanced and when fired, hardly any recoil. A wonderful weapon.
Much in demand, but with one terrible drawback, its sound was distinctive, if you were using one, then there was the possibility that someone nearby hearing the sound would open fire in your direction. Some poor souls, it is reputed, were killed using this gun, Then the use of it was banned, for obvious reasons.

The one outstanding German weapon was undoubtedly the 88 artillery piece, for this was a gun of legend, (Still is) its fire sound was distinctive and very effective. Old Veterans still talk about the 88 as being the greatest gun of the second World war.

The Heaven preserve us! we come to the PIAT Projectile/Infantry/anti/tank. A bloody great heavy thing that had to be loaded by pulling back on a very strong spring, I always had difficulty in loading the thing. The projectile sat in an open, half round tray ready for firing, but you had to get close for accuracy. When it hit the tank it burned a hole right through the armour about ¾” diameter and then the power of the blast followed through and spread the occupants all over the inside of the tank, rather like jam.
Nasty! Very nasty! I have seen a PIAT shot penetrate solid hard rock to a depth of six feet.

When using the PIAT you made sure there was not a tree behind you, and that your legs were closed! for the recoil could slam you back and it there was anything behind? Then your future love life would be severely restricted! There was one other very dangerous thing about the PIAT, When fired, you should roll over quickly, for sometimes the tail fin would come hurtling back in your direction. Nasty! Very nasty!

I remember very clearly in Holland, two of us had been put into a prepared defensive are armed with a PIAT , for there was nothing in front of us and we could hear German tanks moving. Believe it or not, I could not pull the blasted spring back to load it. One other oddity. The German stick grenade had concrete heads, they had done away with the old metal ones.

Kai Petri talked about the Falaise pocket, I am coming to that next, for we were at the back of the trap pushing those inside towards the ever closing noose at the bag neck. I never want to see anything like that again. Not even for a sworn Enemy.
Sapper Brian.

Thanks, Sapper - I was very interested indeed to read your thoughts on the various weapons.

And I have always been fascinated by Falaise , so I'm waiting for the next bit with more than usual attention !

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"Stand by to pull me out of the seat if I get hit" - Guy Gibson

Falaise. Blood soaked Falaise.
Carnage! Bloody carnage.

This is not a pleasant episode, but the scenes that were enacted here are engraved on my very soul.

For here is war at it's most evil, this is where all the press reports and tales of courage in war are stripped naked of any kind of veneer of patriotism, or humanity. This is where war can be seen for what it really is; a dirty and inhuman slaughter of a Nations generation of young men.

After the war, all the Nations would depend on these young men to carry the Countries forward with the drive and inventiveness of youth, Sadly, they would not be there, for those young men paid the ultimate price and would not be there in the future. Thus, many Countries paid a very expensive price for the loss of their Nations young and ambitious men after the war.

For what follows was the real horror of war, and at its bloodiest. Destruction. Utter and complete destruction, it is very hard to describe the scene in words. The roads blocked with dead horses still harnessed to the smashed carts they were pulling; swollen with feet stuck stiffly up in the air. German soldiers dead, sometimes one on top of the other. Further on, groups of German dead lying in twisted and grotesque positions. Some fleeing German soldiers cut down as they fled. Tanks that finished tilted in crazy angles against the side of buildings, mobile guns and armoured troop carriers destroyed. Artillery twisted and abandoned. The whole paraphernalia and detritus of war turned into a massive mangled mess, and covered with Normandy dust. Some soldiers burned as their vehicles caught fire.

Religious statues destroyed. One very poignant sight, was in the corner of one village, were the French Peasants prayed with their rosaries before a life size statue of Christ. The statue still stood there amongst all that destruction, surrounded by dead and mangled bodies, like an island that had remained impervious to the fire that had raged all about. But, what was most poignant, was that the statue was untouched, still looking down at what had happened around. With his arms spread wide in supplication. But, with both hands blow off. I am not a religious man, but somehow that picture that remains with me, is a telling icon of the futility of war.

This went on for miles as we chased the fleeing Enemy towards the hell that awaited them at the neck of the Falaise gap. The Germans used any method to try and escape, in some areas it was not possible to cross the road for German dead. The mighty Tiger tanks blown to smithereens and scattered in every direction. Wall to wall death, smashed houses and buildings with the roads between with so many dead it was difficult to walk, men half out of tanks and cars, burned alive before they could get out.

One scene I shall never forget, was the blackened figure of a man burnt to death and fixed in the position of trying to get out his vehicle, he had his hand on the car door handle and one foot out of the door, fixed in that position as the flames overtook him. The stench of death hung over everything like a sickening pall. The sun had already begun to cause early decay. An inferno beyond comprehension! Covering everything was a thick layer of grey dust, almost as though the scene had been sprayed with grey emulsion.

I remember very clearly, a young dead German sat on the road with his back to a grassy bank, just as though he was taking a rest and a short sleep, feet spread, hands in lap, head on chest covered in this thick grey dust, he looked as though he, and his uniform were fashioned from grey clay. But, his sleep would last for all eternity.

All this, as a complete German army had been caught in the terrible trap of the Falaise pocket. As the noose closed round the top of the bag, the way out narrowed. The German army desperate to escape streamed through the neck of the bag, only to be fired on by our guns over "open sights" Sometimes at point blank range. Meanwhile the rocket firing Typhoons had a turkey shoot, the Enemy was subjected to continuous air attack with no help or protection, and caught in the open, the carnage was complete. For me personally, there was no satisfaction, "There but for the grace of God, go I" Carnage on this scale was something we had not expected. I do not wish to see anything like that again. Why? Well I have to live with it for the rest of my life.

The fact that the German army was able to retreat, reorganize and reform in Holland pays great tribute to their discipline and organization. Even so the Germans did not give in easily, some of the fire fights that took place at the rear of the bag were bitter and hard fought. Much fierce fighting took place as we pressed forward down the Tinchbray road. All of a sudden it was over, and the great chase began. Glad to leave Falaise and Bloody Normandy behind. The company packed everything into their vehicles and started North, A headlong chase all the way to Belgium, only short stops, one had to use a German helmet for a toilet.

Waving crowds, cigarette for Papa? Exciting in its way but being out of action has its drawback, its that much more difficult to get back into it again. After Falaise, the chase was almost none stop, all of our vehicles plus the German staff car we had captured, set off heading towards Northern France and Belgium. Cheering crowds and pleasant green country side made a wonderful change from the death and destruction of Normandy, just to see normal people walking about and the undamaged villages was heartening indeed. Girls in summer dresses after the desolation of Normandy. What a pleasant change! All the way the French made us very welcome, genuinely pleased to see us, it was a shame that we could only stop for short periods, the pressure to follow up the German retreat kept us going all through France to the Seine .

On the way, we were ambushed by a rear guard, we had been caught between a high stone wall on one side and stone buildings on the other. From the woods in front of us the Enemy opened fire as we came through this narrow road, my very good friend Jock, and myself were travelling in our half track. This great friend of mine, was killed along side me and tumbled out of the door, rather than run over his body two of us jumped out and sat his body against the wall, before taking violent evasive action. We just could not mangle him under the tracks of our vehicle, even under fire.

Falaise! Bloody Falaise!
I would be genuinely interested in how you fellows view this, and what is your reaction to it?
Sapper Brian.