As a boy growing up in rural Mid-Missouri in late 1920s, one might imagine the thoughts of a young Walter Lehman filled with the aspirations of someday becoming a brave soldier, inspired by the local World War I veterans with whom he came into contact. As the Second World War erupted several years later, Lehman himself donned the uniform of a soldier in the U.S. Army only to leave behind a family that would decades later remain uncertain of his fate. “Grandma Lehman had all three boys—Fred, Walter and Richard—in the military at the same time,” said Russellville, Missouri, resident Darlene Schubert, Lehman’s niece. “I was always told that you couldn’t have all the sons in one family in the service at once, but she did,” Schubert added. According to a newspaper clipping saved with several family effects, Lehman was born in Brazito in 1924 and attended school at Clarksburg, Missouri, and later at Russellville. “He quit school when he was a senior to go into the service,” Schubert recalled. Morning reports available through a website dedicated to the division with whom Lehman served in World War II show the young soldier attached to Company L, 331st Infantry Regiment, 83rd Division as early as July 15, 1944. Five months later, Lehman’s service in a combat zone would encounter a somber shift. After action reports (AAR) compiled by the headquarters company for the 331st Infantry go on to describe a large part of the regiment involved in offensive operations in locations near the towns of Gey and Berzbuir, Germany, on December 14, 1944. In an appendix to the AAR containing a casualty listing, Lehman and two other soldiers were listed as missing in action, along with 63 wounded and eleven killed while participating in military activities that same date. Two days later, on December 16, 1944, the German military began a major counter offensive recognized as the Battle of the Bulge, which resulted in an estimated 75,000 American casualties. Lehman’s body was never recovered and though initial communication to his family classified the veteran as “missing in action,” a letter military authorities sent his mother in September 1945 stated the young soldier was “killed in action on the date he was previously reported missing …” The young soldier was posthumously awarded the Bronze Star and Purple Heart. “He was really popular in school—a handsome guy and the girls chased him like he was a king or something,” Schubert grinned, recalling moments spent with her uncle many decades earlier. When Lehman’s brother Fred passed away, Schubert explained, his daughters placed a marker in historic Enloe Cemetery near Russellville to honor the memory of their missing uncle. The veteran’s service is also memorialized on a tablet for the missing in the American Cemetery in Margraten, Netherlands. “It really broke my heart when he left for the service … I didn’t want him to go,” Schubert said. Despite the ongoing efforts of the Defense POW/Missing Personnel Office (DPMO) to locate and identify the remains of the more than 72,000 Americans still unaccounted for from World War II, Schubert affirms that her grandmother clung to the hope that she would one day be reunited with her long-absent son. “They never found his dog tags or anything,” Schubert said. “Grandma went to her grave believing that some day he would come walking through her front door." For more information on the 83rd Infantry Division, please visit http://83rdinfdivdocs.org.
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Throughout the years, so many children have dreamed about a career in aviation. In the case of local veteran Francis “Bud” Jones, circumstances born of the Second World War helped transition such a dream to reality. Shortly after his graduation from Vienna High School, Jones began attending the University of Missouri in Columbia during the fall of 1941. A couple of months later, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and Jones realized his educational pursuits would likely be delayed.
“I knew I would be drafted,” explained Jones, “but I didn’t want to be in the infantry.” Seeking to satisfy his duty to the nation while also taking advantage of an early interest he had developed in aviation, Jones traveled to Ft. Leonard Wood for three days of aviation cadet testing. Nearly a week after the completion of the testing, he was informed of his acceptance into the U.S. Army Air Corps (which later became known the U.S. Army Air Forces and eventually the U.S. Air Force), but he would have to wait for a training slot to become available. In May 1942, Jones was sworn into an enlisted reserve status and soon embarked upon the extensive training regimen required to become a military aviator. Completing several phases of flight instruction during which he progressed to larger and more powerful aircraft, the fledgling pilot received his first introduction to the P-40 Warhawk—a ground attack aircraft used by the Allied powers—while stationed at Luke Field, Arizona. “In our final phase of training (at Luke Field), we spent ten hours flying the Warhawk,” Jones said. Successfully finishing almost a year of training, Jones graduated with his “wings” as a second lieutenant in August of 1943. He then traveled to the Army airbase in St. Petersburg, Florida, where he and other aspiring aviators spent about seventy hours familiarizing themselves with the P-40 under combat-style simulations. With the war raging in Europe and the country in dire need of air support for the ground forces, Jones and several new pilots were soon on their way overseas. Eventually, Jones was transported to an Army airfield near Cercola, Italy and assigned to the 324th Fighter Group. “While in training, we were told that the P-40’s we trained on would be obsolete,” Jones recalled. “But when we arrived in Cercola all we saw were P-40’s lined up on the airfield.” With bombs situated under the wings and the belly of the plane, the squadron Jones was part of would lead airstrikes against integral enemy targets such as railroad systems, troop staging areas and gun emplacements. On other occasions, their aircraft were simply outfitted with machine guns with which to engage enemy objectives. During the latter part of the war in Europe, while the Germans were being pushed out of France, Jones remarked that the enemy began to “throw everything they had at us.” Eventually, Jones’ squadron made the transition to the newer P-47 Thunderbolt—a heavily armed, single engine fighter aircraft—on which he flew his final twenty-five missions. “I got shot up pretty bad in my last few missions,” Jones stated. “On one run I got hit by four 20mm cannons. It ended up cracking the cylinder and cutting my oil line.” As a testament to the durability of his new P-47’s, Jones was able to make it 180 miles back to the airbase before the engine on the plane seized up. “The plane had an oil tank of 32 gallons,” Jones remarked. “By the time I got back all of the oil was either on the outside of plane or all over me,” he quipped. In September of 1944, Jones received orders to return to the states. After 117 successful missions his combat career came to a close, but not before being awarded two Distinguished Flying Crosses, four Air Medals and numerous other decorations. Spending several months in Arizona and Alabama training new pilots in the combat tactics he had himself learned and employed while fighting in Europe, Jones was separated from active duty in June 1945. Continuing his military career, Jones joined the Air Force Reserve—retiring as a lieutenant colonel on May 12, 1981. On the same date as his military retirement, he also retired as a major from an extensive post-military career with the Missouri Highway Patrol. “I couldn’t have done it without my wife, Dee (whom he married in 1951),” Jones said. “She’s been my best friend and loyal supporter through it all.” Though Jones notes that the circumstances of the war played some factor in his opportunity to take wing, he asserts that the experiences drawn from service in a combat zone only helped to forge his resilience. “Don’t tell me I can’t do something…I’ll find a way,” he stressed. “That’s the spirit of determination the service gave to me.” In recognition of his service in support of the liberation of France during the war, Jones was presented the French Legion of Honor by Gov. Jay Nixon during a ceremony in 2012. Jeremy P. Amick writes on behalf of the Silver Star Families of America. Amidst a hailstorm of enemy artillery fire just off of the Anzio beachhead in southern Italy, a young hero was born under circumstances which have sent many soldiers back home in flag-draped coffins.
On the morning of February 12, 1944, 19-year old Corporal Gilbert Pritzel—serving as an infantryman with Company D, 1st Battalion, 15th Infantry Regiment under the 3rd Infantry Division—was engaged in combat with German forces on the Italian front when one of the 81mm mortars assigned to his company was destroyed by enemy fire. Pritzel and a fellow soldier made a 300-yard rush across an expanse of exposed ground while unrelenting enemy shellfire exploded about them. He and his fellow soldier survived the popcorn of explosions, were able to acquire a new mortar, and recrossed the pock-marked expanse which could have easily claimed their young lives with a single well-placed explosion. The new 81 mm mortar was delivered, set up, and fired—all within 30 minutes of the destruction of the previous mortar. Corporal Pritzel’s heroic actions earned him one of what would become five Bronze Star Medals for meritorious achievement in combat. Born and raised near Higginsville, Missouri, Pritzel vividly recounted numerous situations in which only the grace of God can be attributed with his survival. “While we were on Anzio beach,” said Pritzel, “we didn’t dig in very deep because water would fill our defensive positions. You just dug in deep enough to lie in your hole and keep shrapnel from hitting you.” Pritzel related an anecdote regarding a day when his company was laying in their defensive positions while under attack from German artillery originating from the mountains flanking their position. An enemy mortar landed just feet from his defensive position while he and a fellow soldier scrambled to make themselves as small a target as possible and thinking that they were “goners.” Fortunate for the pair, the shell turned out to be a dud. According to Pritzel, some men in his unit unscrewed the top of the detonator and discovered that the mortar was filled with sawdust. Stuffed within the sawdust they found a little piece of paper with the phrase “This is all we can do” scribbled upon it in English. Pritzel states that it was well-known at that time that the Czechoslovakians were assembling ammunition for the German forces, and under somewhat unfriendly conditions. He believes that this was their method in tipping off the Americans as to the depleted state of the German ammunition supply. Pritzel’s military service first landed him in Sicily, took him through North Africa and then into Italy. Around March of 1944, his unit entered southern France where he indicated that very little resistance was met by enemy forces. “The French Foreign Legion had cleaned out most of the towns that we came through,” the veteran recalled. But the mild resistance they encountered in the southern sections of France would intensify the further north they traveled and eventually provide his company with an unfriendly taste of World War I trench warfare. While engaged in combat with the Germans in the Vosges Mountains in eastern France, Pritzel’s unit oftentimes fell victim to a barrage of hellfire delivered from large rail guns that had been placed in the mountains above their positions. One of the rail guns, Pritzel recalled, was designed in a manner that allowed it to be rolled in and out of a crevice in the mountain. This allowed the gun to be pulled inside the crevice in the case of an aerial attack. Many times while being subjected to the deadly explosions delivered by the rail cannons, Pritzel’s unit was forced to fall back and take up a defensive position in trenches which had been constructed during the First World War. These trenches were still in good shape and had been dug in a zigzag pattern so that a shot could not be fired directly down a trench line in case they were breached by enemy forces. Pritzel’s Company finally entered Germany with the rest of his division, where he recalls the German populace initially expressing terror upon their arrival. We were checking a German basement for enemy soldiers, Pritzel recalled, "and when I entered the basement, there was an entire family with scared expressions on their faces and their hands in the air. I told them that ‘You can put your hands down—I’m not going to do anything.’ Hitler had told them that [the Americans] would kill them all and they were completely terrified of us. They turned out to be some of the nicest people that I’ve ever met.” Despite the numerous engagements in which Pritzel was involved, he remains uncertain as to whether he actually ever took the life of an enemy soldier. “I spent most of time behind an 81 mm mortar and never really saw what happened when they hit.” In November 1945, after having spent over two years on foreign soil in support of the liberation of France and much of Central Europe, Staff Sergeant Pritzel was discharged from the U.S. Army at Jefferson Barracks, Missouri (in south St. Louis). Upon returning home from his service he jokes “I didn’t get any type of celebration for what I did. The Army just gave me a little bit of money as said to ‘get home.’” Following his service, Pritzel worked briefly in farming and construction before embarking upon a 33-year career with Central Electric in Jefferson City, retiring from the latter in 1986. Staff Sergeant Pritzel was presented the French Legion of Honor by Governor Jay Nixon in 2010 in recognition of the sacrifices he made in support of the liberation of France during World War. The 88 year-old Pritzel passed away in 2013 and was laid to rest in Riverview Cemetery in Jefferson City. ![]() While serving in Europe during the Second World War, Norbert Gerling of Henley, Missouri, traveled 1,200 miles as a gunner with an M18 “Hellcat” tank destroyer, such as the one pictured above. Lighter than most tanks, the Hellcat could ambush a German tank and then move away quickly to avoid return fire. Courtesy of Norbert Gerling America seems to have an insatiable appetite for war movies as evidenced by the recent release of military films such as “Fury”—a story about an American tank crew serving in Germany in the waning days of World War II. Though the film provides a passionate portrayal of the heavy metal clashes that unfolded between American and German armor, one local veteran explains that he experienced firsthand the dangers associated with serving inside a tank destroyer.
“I trained with Company C of the newly-formed 609th Tank Destroyer Battalion,” said Norbert Gerling, an Army veteran from Henley, Missouri. “Once the war was over, the battalion was disbanded.” According to an official history of the 609th (part of the 10th Armored Division), the battalion was activated at Ft. Bragg, North Carolina, on December 15, 1941 and began combat operations on September 20, 1944, when landing on Utah Beach in France. They were equipped with M-18 Hellcats—a minimally armored tank with top speeds of more than 55 mph and armed with a 76 mm cannon. In the book “No Greater Valor,” author Jerome Corsi notes that M18s were designed to “race ahead to ambush German armor and then run away before the German tanks could return fire,” or, as known in military lexicon, to “shoot and scoot.” Shortly after the 609th’s arrival in Europe, Gerling recalls encountering intense combat when traveling through the French village of St. Lo, involving many “skirmishes” with German tanks such as the notorious Tigers. “Everything was so hectic back then that it was really hard to keep track of all the dates of when things happened,” Gerling said, while describing an incident involving the employment of an anti-tank weapon. A copy of orders Gerling received illustrates an occasion when the Hellcat he served aboard was called to assist an American tank in dire need of assistance on March 7, 1945. “There was one of our tanks sitting right in the middle of this valley,” explained Gerling, “and it had been disabled to the point that they couldn’t fire their gun or anything.” Although they were unscathed, the tank crew was stranded after being struck by a German anti-tank gun situated on a railcar, which, Gerling added, was partially concealed under an overpass on a hill overlooking the valley. “There were four of us (Hellcats) that went into the valley,” he said. “We went through in a cluster because if we went through one at a time, the German gun could pick us off.” When in a position where he could view the German artillery piece, Gerling stated he could see two of the three pedestals that were supporting the overpass. As the gunner, he used the tank’s “10-power scope” to sight in on the enemy threat. “I fired seven or eight rounds (from the tank’s 76 mm cannon), Gerling said. “I hit the two pedestals that I could see through the scope and the overpass collapsed onto the German gun, neutralizing the threat.” For his participation in the rescue of the stranded tank, on July 5, 1945, Gerling was awarded a Bronze Star Medal for his “heroic achievement in connection with a military operation against an enemy of the United States at Trier, Germany,” as a copy of his orders read. Traveling an estimated 1,200 miles across the battered European landscape, Gerling asserts that despite his experiences with tank-to-tank engagements, it is the rescue of the stranded tank crew that remains one of the most memorable encounters of his time spent as a Hellcat gunner. “Usually we were involved in skirmishes involving German tanks, but it was nice to be part of a team that helped rescue someone,” Gerling said. “It was really a very important event to me because …well,” he paused, “you just don’t know if what you did might have saved a person’s life.” The story of Gerling's service is captured in his biography "The Lucky Ones." The 96-year-old veteran passed away on February 3, 2016, and was laid to rest with military honors in Our Lady of the Snows Cemetery in Mary's Home, Missouri. Jeremy P. Ämick writes on behalf of the Silver Star Families of America. ‘They are my life’ - Veteran’s career spans Marine Corps, National Guard and law enforcement5/5/2020 ![]() A native of the South Side of Chicago, Vernon Taylor received his draft notice shortly after graduating high school in 1969 and was fully prepared to embrace a military adventure. After taking his physical in January 1970, he attempted to enlist in the Army with hopes of attending the training to become an airborne ranger. “I was sent for a second physical in February 1970 and they said that I failed that one; they listed me as ‘medically unfit,’” said Taylor. “Then, in May 1970, I received my induction notice from my first physical and my 4-F card (medical disqualification code) from my second physical in the same week,” he chuckled. When reporting for his induction, he was sent home because the military authorities had discovered the medical disqualification from his second physical. Believing he would not have an opportunity to enter the service, Taylor spent the next few years working in Chicago-area factories. "Driving to work every day, I passed a billboard with a Marine dressed in his dress blues,” he recalled. “One day I just decided to go to the Marine recruiting office and they were able to waive my medical exemptions and I was off to boot camp in San Diego in the spring of 1975,” he added. The 24-year-old then completed the four-week Infantry Training School at Camp Pendleton in Southern California, where he trained as a machine-gunner. It was during this period, he added, that he and his fellow Marines spent time guarding the perimeter of a Vietnamese refugee camp set up on the base. In November 1975, he received orders for Sea School in San Diego and, was then assigned to the Marine Detachment aboard the USS Enterprise (CVN-65) based at the Alameda Naval Station. He performed a range of duties aboard the aircraft carrier to include working in the brig, guarding controlled areas, damage control and administrative tasks. “I did two years aboard the Enterprise, which included a Western Pacific tour,” Taylor said. “One of the most interesting experiences was when we had the 201st Marine Corps Ball in Australia in 1976 at a venue in downtown Hobart, Tasmania. Another one,” he added, “was training aboard the Enterprise to evacuate the US Embassy in Uganda in 1977, when Idi Amin threatened to attack it.” When the sea tour was completed in November 1977, the Marine was transferred to Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, and performed administrative duties for an infantry company until receiving his discharge in April 1979. “At the time, I was 28 years old and didn’t think that I could do another 16 years to retire with the Corps because of the physical demands,” he said. Returning to Chicago, he became a police officer in the Chicago suburb of Justice, Illinois, in December 1979. Three years later, he decided to relocate and care for his parents when they moved to Ava, Missouri. After working a couple of years for small town police departments, he was hired as a guard at the Missouri State Penitentiary (MSP) in Jefferson City in 1984. The following year, the former Marine made the decision to enlist in the Missouri National Guard even though he had promised himself never to don another military uniform. “I missed the military lifestyle,” he said. “And,” he added, “it was also nice to have the extra income.” He was later promoted to caseworker at (MSP) and, in 1989, married Debra, whom he had met while working at the penitentiary. The couple soon welcomed their only child, Derek. Throughout the next few years, he was employed by the state to include service as an investigator with the Department of Social Services. In 2010, he retired from state employment. In addition to his state employment and National Guard service, he worked several years as a reserve deputy for the Cole County Sheriff’s Department and earned his master’s degree in criminal justice. Taylor’s career with the Missouri National Guard transitioned to service with the Counterdrug Program for 5 years, fulfilling the role of an intelligence analyst for the MUSTANG Drug Task Force, coordinating intelligence and providing administrative support.While with the Guard, he was assigned Supply, Administrative, Ammunition and Operations Non-Commissioned Officer duties and served as an instructor for the Regional Training Institute. He twice deployed overseas—the first time to Kandahar, Afghanistan, from 2005 to 2006, and to Bosnia and Kosovo from 2008-2009. “It was interesting that when I was in Afghanistan, the 173rd Airborne, which was the only airborne unit to make a jump in the Vietnam War, had command and control of the base,” he said. “I had the privilege of serving with them long enough to earn my airborne patch 35 years after I had first tried to enlist in the airborne.” Pausing, he added, “I am very proud to wear that patch.” The veteran retired from the National Guard in November 2010 at the rank of master sergeant and, the following year, moved to Iowa with his family when his wife was transferred there for her job with the Federal Department of Transportation. While in Iowa, Taylor worked for the U.S. Customs and Immigration Services and moved back to Jefferson City in the summer of 2017, when his wife received a transfer back to the area. Their son, Derek, graduated from Iowa State University and lives in Des Moines, where he is pursuing a career in Emergency Medical Services. A member of the American Legion and the Marine Corps League, Taylor now enjoys working part-time as a tour guide assistant at his former place of employment, the Missouri State Penitentiary. One of the greatest benefits of his retirement, he asserts, is enjoying with his family something previously not available—time. “I guess that I want to leave a written legacy for my family because it seemed like I was gone for the first 20 years of my marriage because of my commitments to the military,” he said. “You can look back and say I should have done this or that, but personally, it was an experience that gave me the two most precious things in my life—my wife and son. He added, “They are my life and they sacrificed a lot through my deployments, my law enforcement duties and my career with the state … and now my time is focused on them.” Jeremy P. Ämick writes on behalf of the Silver Star Families of America. ![]() “Being on a ship was like ‘all for one’ … like we were all one big family,” Morgan Walker stated of his time served in the active Navy and reserves, and later experienced as a member of veteran service organizations. But as the veteran noted, there was a time when he was uncertain whether he would even qualify for service in the military. Prior to his graduation from high school in Marshfield, Missouri, in 1960, Walker made the decision to enlist in the Navy, but was concerned whether he would meet the physical requirements. “As a kid I had polio and didn’t know if I would make the cut,” he said. The aspiring sailor did manage to pass his entrance tests, enlisted, and went on to complete his basic training at Great Lakes, Illinois. He then returned to Marshfield and began attending classes at a local college under a Navy initiative that allowed an enlistee to complete their education before beginning active duty service. In June 1962, with four semesters of college behind him, the young sailor chose to break from his education and embark upon his sworn commitment. Walker was immediately assigned to the USS Spiegel Grove—an amphibious assault landing ship he says was “about the size of a football field and a half.” He explained, “I was assigned to the operational division as a radioman because I already knew Morse code—growing up I had been an amateur radio operator … and still am.” For the next two years, the sailor gained a lifetime of experience sailing the world on numerous deployments to the Mediterranean and Caribbean, in addition to witnessing firsthand major events of both national and international consequence. “Our ship was part of a contingent of several ships that circled Cuba during the Cuban Missile Crisis,” Walker recalled. “You could hear shots being fired in the distance (from Cuba), but I don’t think they we’re trying to actually hit us,” he added. During the deployments, the young sailor’s duties found him in the radio room where he would decode incoming messages to be delivered to the appropriate personnel. He would also encode outgoing message traffic being sent to upper level authorities. Toward the latter part of his enlistment, he participated in a “goodwill tour” to South Africa, during which time the ship delivered supplies such as livestock and perishable groceries to poorer countries affected by war in the region. While still in the Navy, Walker began communicating with the Missouri Highway Patrol, who, at that time, was in the process of hiring individuals with a knowledge of Morse code to add to their communications staff. Walker was promised a job and when his enlistment expired in June 1964, he relocated to Jefferson City, where he went to work for the patrol as a communications specialist. He spent the next 39 years employed in a communications capacity for the patrol, later transferring to Springfield and Rolla before finally returning to Jefferson City and retiring in 2000. While still in Springfield, Walker wished to reconnect to the camaraderie found during his military service, and made the decision to enlist in the Navy Reserve in 1977. He left the reserves in 1988 after finding the dual commitment of a full-time job and reserve obligations left him with little free time. Several years ago, Walker also became involved with the Veterans of Foreign Wars and the American Legion to satisfy his desire to continue in the spirit of “service to others,” and in the years that followed, dedicated countless hours in such capacities as the adjutant for the American Legion Post 5. In addition to the camaraderie he found in the service and through his voluntary endeavors with veterans’ organizations, Morgan asserts that the one of the most significant payoffs of his service time has been the priceless skills garnered from his time in service. “The Navy gave me a lot of good training that reinforced and built upon my experience as an amateur radio operator—training that allowed me to apply my skills in a real-world environment,” he said. “This training,” he added, “proved to be quite valuable since it was recognized by the (highway) patrol and provided me with a good job for so many years after I left the service.” Jeremy P. Amick writes on behalf of the Silver Star Families of America. ‘Middle of the war’ - Army veteran earned Purple Heart for wound during Battle of the Bulge5/1/2020 ![]() The harsh reality for Herb Siebert when he approached his graduation from Cleveland High School in St. Louis during the height of World War II was that it was likely only a matter of time before he was drawn into the military. Shortly before his graduation in May 1943, he received his draft notice. A few weeks later, the 18-year-old traveled to nearby Jefferson Barracks for his induction into the U.S. Army. “That all happened right in the middle of the war and I didn’t want to rush into the service, but I knew I would go when my time came,” said the veteran. Following his entry into active service on July 28, 1943, he was sent to Camp Wallace, Texas, for his basic training. It was here, Siebert noted, that he and many of his fellow trainees received instruction to prepare them to serve in anti-aircraft artillery units. “When we finished our training that fall, that’s when they sent us down to Camp Claiborne (Louisiana) and transferred us into the infantry,” he recalled. “That’s also the place where I became a member of Company E, 335th Regiment of the 84th Division,” he added. For the next year, Siebert endured the heat of the Bayou State while participating in maneuvers, battle simulations and learning to operate a number of different weapons. During this training period, he began as an assistant gunner but eventually was assigned as primary gunner using a .30 caliber machine gun. In late September 1944, the division traveled to Camp Kilmer New Jersey, to board troop ships that would deliver them to the war raging in Europe. Several days later, they arrived in England and, in early November, were entering France through Omaha Beach—the site of the deadly D-Day invasion only five months earlier. “We got off the LSTs (landing ship tanks) that brought us to Omaha Beach and I thought they’d bring trucks to take us to our next stop,” he laughed. “Instead, we must have walked 20 miles and I was wearing new boots.” Smiling, he added, “I had blisters on my heels and when we finally got there, we pitched our tents in the rain … and it was miserable.” A booklet about the 84th Division published in the Stars and Stripes (military newspaper) during the war noted, “Wasting little time, (they) sped through France and Belgium into Holland. Rarely had a division been moved from the States to the flaming Western Front with such speed as the 84th’s.” The booklet added, “Within a week after the division CP (command post) was set up, (they) were attacking one of the strongest sectors of the Siegfried Line.” Siebert said, “On November 29th we were pinned down overnight by machine gun fire coming from a bunker,” he said. “The following morning they ordered us to attack the bunker and I expected return fire, but by the time we reached it, it had been abandoned.” As mid-December 1944 arrived, the last major German offensive of the war unfolded—the Battle of the Bulge. Handwritten notes maintained by Siebert record that on December 17, his company “Repulsed heavy German night attack and … destroyed an entire enemy battalion.” Three days later, they were “relieved by the 102nd (Division) and motored to (Marche-en-Famenne), Belgium.” The notes go on to describe Christmas Day being spent in a barn followed by movement to a different assembly area to relieve British troops a few days later. However, the following week, a combat injury would remove Siebert from his unit for nearly a month. “On January 9 (1945), we had to move on the offensive once again and I remember we set up our machine gun on a road firing into the woods to provide cover for our riflemen to move in,” Siebert explained. “That must not have been too bright because the ground around us was white with snow and we probably stuck out like store thumbs in our olive drab uniforms,” he added. As Siebert recalled, the Germans soldiers had concealed a machine gun nest and soon began firing upon him and his assistant gunner. “We got up to run to higher ground and that’s when I felt a sting on my arm,” he said. “I was shot through the upper left arm but fortunately it wasn’t too serious a wound.” He was evacuated to a field hospital for treatment and when he was able to return to his unit, the Battle of the Bulge was over. Weeks later, the war in Europe ended and Siebert remained in Germany until January 1946 as a member of the occupational forces. On February 11, 1946, he received his discharge from the U.S. Army at Jefferson Barracks, Missouri. In the years after the war, Siebert was employed by the McDonnell Douglas Corporation (which became Boeing in a 1997 merger), retiring in 1987 after thirty years with the company. He and his wife, Brenda, now reside in a retirement community in his native St. Louis. Plain spoken about his service in World War II, the Purple Heart recipient avoids any sensational descriptions of his own service that might diminish the contributions of the brave soldiers with whom he served. Despite having survived the frigid European winter and being shot in combat, the veteran still maintains mirthful reflections of his wartime experiences. “It’s been so long that many of my memories of the war have left me but I remember that they usually fed us pretty good over there,” he affirmed. Smiling, he added, “You know how us GI’s are—you could feed us steak every night and we’d still complain.” The 94-year-old combat veteran passed away on May 19, 2019, and was laid to rest with full military honors in Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery. Jeremy P. Ämick writes on behalf of the Silver Star Families of America. |
AuthorJeremy P. Ämick is an award-winning author and historian and dedicated to preserving music, military and local histories. Archives
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