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Don Bennett's War

Chapter 28 - Caught in the Middle

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The tanks and tank destroyers kept the fight up for a half an hour, with the shells going back and forth about 15-30 feet over our heads. Some man from our company had a bazooka and fired a shot at the one tank coming down the hill toward us, and stopped him by knocking a track off. The disabled tank continued to fire, but he couldn't get enough elevation to his gun and kept hitting the building we were crouched beside. One of the men in the German tank got out and headed up the hill. I tried to get him with my BAR, but it wouldn't fire and the man made it up the hill. Another man grabbed my rifle and tinkered with it, got it going, but too late. I took the BAR back and kept my eye on the hatch of the tank. Another man got out and ran up the hill. I started firing at him and following the spurts of dirt my bullets stirred up, I brought my fire to the SS man and brought him down. My platoon leader hiding across the street yelled out for me to stop wasting ammunition. I yelled back "Is shooting Germans a waste of ammunition?" The fight was soon over and a few of us went up the hill to see if any of the enemy were still in fighting condition. We went by the man I shot, he was laying pretty still in the ditch, but still alive. We went up the hill and found nothing but four or five tanks, well battered up from the beating they had taken from our tank destroyer team. They were still smoking, but some of our men went through the tanks and found nothing but dead men and equipment. Some men took a few expensive high power binoculars, but not me, they were just added weight to pack, and when you're fighting a fast moving war, all you want to pack is your rifle, ammunition, and a little food. We came back down the hill, past the wounded German I had hit, and by this time our medical aid man was up there giving him aid. I saw that he was shot through the side of the abdomen, and asked the aid man how he was, and he answered that the man had a fair chance of living. The German was only about 18 years old, but I had no remorse while looking down at him, for few men have remorse over men they kill or wound in the heat of battle.

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