Prelude to Another Grim Winter
Which of us will be alive when the new leaves return
My Mother and Audie Murphy Ch. 35
Late September, 1944. Murphy has been wounded in a mortar attack.
“After a few days in the hospital, I get myself a new pair of shoes and return to the lines. It is late September. Drizzly rains sweep over the hilly, wooded country through which we move; keeping warm during the night has already become a problem.
“The leaves of the trees are turning color. The gold and red contrast sharply with the evergreens; and the camouflage men must start mixing new paints to conform with the changes in nature. It is the prelude to another long, grim winter.
“We plod up the wet roads doggedly, wondering vaguely which of us will still be alive when the new leaves return to the trees. The Germans fall back stubbornly, but steadily. Each day, however, their resistance grows stronger, their retreats shorter. As they approach strongly prepared positions in the Vosges mountain area, they lash back at us with counter attacks. My regiment is on the verge of some of its hardest fighting of the entire war.
“One morning as a chilled, misty dawn breaks over the earth we wait for the signal to tackle a hill known only by a number. Our artillery is softening up the point with a barrage. We lie on our backs, shivering and silent, as the gray light grows about us.
“Near me a sergeant checks a 50-caliber machine gun, which is set up in a large round hole edged by a wall of sandbags. The weapon, stationary for the time being, will be used to cover our advance and, if necessary, our retreat.
“The sergeant, satisfied that his gun is ready for action, lolls back upon his elbows. Beads of water cling to his mop of wavy black hair. He is extraordinarily handsome. With his fine, sensitive features and broad shoulders, he looks like a Hollywood producer’s dream of a soldier. In the army we would immediately classify him as a lady-killer.
“In the rear one of our cannon whams. We hear its projectile fluttering through the air hesitantly, as if reluctant to bury its nose in the cold, wet earth. The sound instantly reveals to an experienced ear that the shell is defective. Though our own, it may explode anywhere. Shouting to my men to get down, I hit the dirt just before the crash comes.
“The blast seems to be directly over us. In the silence that follows I mentally examine each part of my body for the burning sensation that reveals wounds. I find none and stand up. The new men are fearfully dabbling their fingers over their clothes in search of blood. I know their feeling. That a shell could hit so close without doing damage is a miracle to the uninitiated.
“I glance toward the machine gun nest. The sergeant still lolls, but a man is hastily twisting a tourniquet around his leg. His left foot has been sheared off cleanly just above the shoe top. There is no expression of pain or panic on the sergeant’s face. He strikes a match to a cigarette and puffs calmly….
“Then I see his eyes close and his face freeze into a grimace as the pain strikes.”
Quotes are from Audie Murphy’s autobiography To Hell and Back
Ch. 36: https://tradeswomn.medium.com/the-battle-for-cleurie-quarry-6005f4253948
