Modern/Post-War Photos

Elzenborne Ridge,a veteran's story

Today's view from the Elzenborne Ridge. B.C. Henderson, 394th Regiment, Company B Suicide Patrol 15 January 1945. I arrived on Elsenborn Ridge on December 20, 1944 from a "Repo-Depo" located in a brick factory near the town of Welkenraedt, Belgium, which was south of Aachen near the German border. I was assigned to "B" Company 394th Inf., 99th Division. Running night patrols, beating back German attacks and dodging mortar and artillery shells was routine. On occasions we were assigned a detail to walk two or three miles to the town of Elsenborn to pick up some "Wet Towels" (replacements) and bring them back to the Ridge under cover of darkness where they would be assigned to a unit. This one patrol on January 15, 1945, was more deadly than most other patrols. It consisted of 30 enlisted men and one officer made up of men from all sources within "B" Company. This almost depleted the company because all units were so under strength. Most of the men were so new to the front that many didn't know each other's name. We jumped off from the Ridge at approximately 0400 hours in knee deep snow, with clear skies, but very cold, to go into the wooded area about one mile to our front. Our mission was to penetrate as far as we could into the woods to determine the strength of the Jerries. We moved down the ridge to almost the edge of the woods and held up, waiting for our aircraft to strafe the woods, which was to take place just before daylight to soften up the Jerries. It had begun to get light and no aircraft, and we sat there in the snow sticking out like a sore thumb. The order was given to move into the woods. Just as we entered the woods the Jerries opened up on us and at the same time here came the P-51s and strafed hell out of us. So we were getting it from the front and above. The fire -fight was very heavy and we could only penetrate into the woods approximately 100 yards. We were pinned down at this point by a machine gun nest. The man on our light machine gun had been hit, and as he was pulled back, I moved up to the gun to take his place. I had just positioned myself in his impression in the snow and I caught a bullet in the arm. Sgt. Cornett took the bazooka and one man and worked his way into a position to fire the bazooka and knocked out the machine gun nest. This action earned Cornett a Silver Star. We were almost out of ammo and our casualties were heavy, so the order was given to withdraw and make our way back up the slope to our lines on the ridge. We spread out as much as possible, yet trying to step on the man's tracks ahead, going up the slope in order to make smaller targets for the Germans to pick us off. However, I had been sent out ahead of the others, because of my wound, so I was trying to get back to our lines on my own. That was the longest mile I have ever traveled, going up that slope which had very little vegetation, in knee deep snow, bright sunshine, mine fields and with a bullet in my arm. The Germans were shooting at us with rifles and machine guns as we were trying to make our way up the open slope. I tucked my wounded arm in the front of my jacket and would run ad far as I could with the German bullets kicking up the snow all around me. I would fall face down in the snow from exhaustion and the firing would stop, I guess they thought they got me, but as soon as I could catch my breath I would get up and run some more and the bullets would start kicking up the snow again. I finally made it back to our lines without getting hit again. The final count upon arrival back at our lines was only 13 of the 31 man patrol who made it back, and 9 of us were wounded. The wounded were loaded onto jeeps for a ride to the aid station in Elsenborn. I rode back with Sgt. Doebler who had stepped on a personnel mine and half of one foot was dangling, held on by a small bit of the leather on the boot. Sgt. Doebler was my old buddy, Cliff Selwood's squad leader, if my memory serves me right. He was in the same group with Sgt. Doebler. I never saw Doebler again, so I never knew what happened to him. I was sent back to my foxhole on Elsenborn Ridge, with my arm in a sling, since my wound was not serious and he went to a hospital somewhere. On April 30, 1945, we overran a German Prison camp at Moosburg, Germany and one of the prisoners we liberated was one of our own men from that patrol on January 15, 1945. His name I cannot remember. I have tried for a long time to learn this man's name. I would very much like to contact him. Another strange thing about that patrol; Ernest E. Brown from Ohio, and I had trained together at Camp Hood, Texas and he was also on that partrol, but was listed as missing in action. In March 1995, Cliff Selwood (the buddy on that patrol) and I were visiting the Elsenborn Ridge area, and we were escorted to a depression in the woods where the remains of a GI had recently been removed. The Diggers are reasonably sure that the remains are those of the MIA, Ernest E. Brown, from our patrol; (not yet confirmed). By the way, I still have the machine gun bullet the medics removed from my arm. It is mounted alongside my Purple Heart. B.C. Henderson The Woodlands, Texas greetz,brummbar