If You Survive Read Online Free Page B
Author: George Wilson
alive. A bunch of us dug him out at once, but it was too late.
Thus my second man was gone—and he as needlessly as the first. I knew then I’d never survive if I let myself get tied in with every case. It was vital for me to build some sort of protective shield within myself and concentrate only on what had to be done in the present and how to do it. I forced myself to suppress all thoughts of prior losses and gruesome mental pictures of the tragedy of war.
A little later the fighter-bombers hit Canisy, setting many fires and creating more rubble. We mounted our tanks and went on in. It was a bit larger than Saint Gilles, up to maybe seven or eight hundred people. The drifting smoke screened the fires a little and made an eerie glow in the oncoming darkness. It was all very spooky, and it seemed my eyes couldn’t travel fast enough to find signs of a hidden enemy who might be watching us as we rode through town on the backs of tanks.
Fortunately, the Jerries had pulled out, and so we pushed right on through Canisy and into the night. Now we were in even more of a no-man’s-land. The Germans were so unaware of our penetrations that in the darkness a German tank came up from the side and was moved right into our column by a smart MP, and then one of our tanks knocked him out from the rear.
As the Nazi tank burned and its shells began to explode, we were forced to detour in the field around it. When wereturned to the road, a German colonel drove up with a staff car and was immediately captured.
At 2:00 A.M . we were still going strong and getting near our first day’s objective—Le Mesnil Herman. My platoon was in the lead again as we approached town, and I was on the armored platoon leader’s tank, which was third in line.
The point tank stopped about one hundred yards ahead, halting the whole column, and in the lull we immediately heard German voices jabbering away—apparently excited at seeing American tanks six miles behind what they thought were their front lines. Their chatter came in clearly, even above the noise of our idling tank motors.
I was now able to spot their voices at no more than ten feet from the right side of our tank, and I knew we had only a moment. I threw a hand grenade and at the same time yelled at Sergeant Williams, just behind me on the tank, to shoot his rifle grenade.
Just a second later the Germans let go with a panzerfaust, and I think our firing first may have upset their aim—for they missed the broad side of the tank where we were sitting and instead hit solid front armor about three feet to my left. The armor-piercing shell of the panzerfaust exploded, but the angle was wrong for penetrating the armor. Nevertheless, it left huge catlike claw marks across the front of the tank, some almost two inches deep and very jagged. My hand nearest the blast stung sharply and turned out to be burned.
I can’t help believing that if we hadn’t gotten off our grenades so quickly the German aim might have been truer and our tank would have blown up and taken the rest of us with it. But the tank commander inside our buttoned-up tank evidently wanted no more of that spot, for suddenly we took off at full speed, jerking ahead so fast that some of us nearly lost what were at best very precarious seats.
At that moment our fourth tank, just behind us, was hitby a panzerfaust and burst into flames. I had no hope at all for any of the men—the five crew members inside, and all of my eight men riding the back. I really don’t know their fate; I never saw any of them again.
Now we had a new problem. Previously the darkness had been some protection, but the flames of the burning tank lit up our road as brilliantly as a high school football field on a Friday night. We felt as though we were suddenly naked on Main Street.
Our three lead tanks now were bunched up about two hundred yards past the burning tank and some three hundred yards short of Le Mesnil Herman. My men and I piled off and took
Thus my second man was gone—and he as needlessly as the first. I knew then I’d never survive if I let myself get tied in with every case. It was vital for me to build some sort of protective shield within myself and concentrate only on what had to be done in the present and how to do it. I forced myself to suppress all thoughts of prior losses and gruesome mental pictures of the tragedy of war.
A little later the fighter-bombers hit Canisy, setting many fires and creating more rubble. We mounted our tanks and went on in. It was a bit larger than Saint Gilles, up to maybe seven or eight hundred people. The drifting smoke screened the fires a little and made an eerie glow in the oncoming darkness. It was all very spooky, and it seemed my eyes couldn’t travel fast enough to find signs of a hidden enemy who might be watching us as we rode through town on the backs of tanks.
Fortunately, the Jerries had pulled out, and so we pushed right on through Canisy and into the night. Now we were in even more of a no-man’s-land. The Germans were so unaware of our penetrations that in the darkness a German tank came up from the side and was moved right into our column by a smart MP, and then one of our tanks knocked him out from the rear.
As the Nazi tank burned and its shells began to explode, we were forced to detour in the field around it. When wereturned to the road, a German colonel drove up with a staff car and was immediately captured.
At 2:00 A.M . we were still going strong and getting near our first day’s objective—Le Mesnil Herman. My platoon was in the lead again as we approached town, and I was on the armored platoon leader’s tank, which was third in line.
The point tank stopped about one hundred yards ahead, halting the whole column, and in the lull we immediately heard German voices jabbering away—apparently excited at seeing American tanks six miles behind what they thought were their front lines. Their chatter came in clearly, even above the noise of our idling tank motors.
I was now able to spot their voices at no more than ten feet from the right side of our tank, and I knew we had only a moment. I threw a hand grenade and at the same time yelled at Sergeant Williams, just behind me on the tank, to shoot his rifle grenade.
Just a second later the Germans let go with a panzerfaust, and I think our firing first may have upset their aim—for they missed the broad side of the tank where we were sitting and instead hit solid front armor about three feet to my left. The armor-piercing shell of the panzerfaust exploded, but the angle was wrong for penetrating the armor. Nevertheless, it left huge catlike claw marks across the front of the tank, some almost two inches deep and very jagged. My hand nearest the blast stung sharply and turned out to be burned.
I can’t help believing that if we hadn’t gotten off our grenades so quickly the German aim might have been truer and our tank would have blown up and taken the rest of us with it. But the tank commander inside our buttoned-up tank evidently wanted no more of that spot, for suddenly we took off at full speed, jerking ahead so fast that some of us nearly lost what were at best very precarious seats.
At that moment our fourth tank, just behind us, was hitby a panzerfaust and burst into flames. I had no hope at all for any of the men—the five crew members inside, and all of my eight men riding the back. I really don’t know their fate; I never saw any of them again.
Now we had a new problem. Previously the darkness had been some protection, but the flames of the burning tank lit up our road as brilliantly as a high school football field on a Friday night. We felt as though we were suddenly naked on Main Street.
Our three lead tanks now were bunched up about two hundred yards past the burning tank and some three hundred yards short of Le Mesnil Herman. My men and I piled off and took