The Hardin tribune-herald. [volume] (Hardin, Mont.) 1925-1973, 1944-08-17
By Ernie Pyle

the invasion that they we're about
to be put up for Presidential cita-
ton. But one day they gotin a bomb
crater and started shooting captured
German guns at the opposite bank
just for fun, which is against the
rules, so the proposal vas torn up.
They just laugh about (which is
about all a fellow can do.
Corp. Grover Anderson Of Annis-
ton, Ala, is one Of the drivers.
He swears by his colossal machine
but cusses it, too. You see the
French roads are narrow for heavy
two-way military traffic and an Mis-
Is big and awkward and slow.
"You get so damn mad at it."
Anderson says, because conveys
pile up behind you and can't get
around and you know everybody's
hating you and that makes you mad
der. They're aggravating, but if you
let me leave the trailer off I can
pull anything out Of anywhere with
it."
Anderson has grown a red goatee
which he is not going to shave off
till the war is won. He used to be a
taxi driver; that's another reason he
finds an M-19 so "aggravating."
Because it hasn't got a meter on
it," I asked.
"Or maybe because you don't
have any female passengers" an
other driver said.
To which Brother Anderson had a
wholly satisfactory CT reply.
He said, "-(remainder of column
voluntarily censored)-."
1t was just beginning dusk
when the order came. A soldier
came running up the pasture and
said there was q call for our
ordnance evacuation company
to pull out some crippled tanks.
We had been sitting on the
grass and we jumped up and ran
down the slope. Waiting at the
gate stood an M-19 truck and
behind it a big wrecker with a
crane.
The day had been warm but
dusk was bringing a chill, as al
ways. One of the soldiers loaned
me his mackinaw.
Soldiers stood atop their big ma
chine with a stance of impotence,
like fremen waiting to start. We
pulled out through the hedgerow
gate onto the main macadam high.
way. It was about 10 miles to the
frontlines.
I'VE should make it before full
darkness" one of the officers said.
We went through shattered Caren-
tan and on beyond for miles. Then
we turned off at an angle in the
road. This is Purple Heart corner"
the officer said.
Beyond there the roadside soldiers
thinned out. Traffic ceased altogeth-
er. With an increasing tempo, the
big guns crashed around US.
Hedges began to make weird shad-
oWs. You peered closely at sentries
in every open hedgegate just out of
nervous alertness.
The smell of death washed past
us in waves as we drove on. There
is nothing worse in war than the
foul odor of death. There is no last
yestiee of dignity in If
We turned up a gravel lane, and
drove sowly. The dusk was deepen.
ing. A gray stone farmhouse sat
dimly off the road. A little yard and
driveway semicircled in front of it.
Against the front of the house stood
five German soldiers, facing in.
ward, their hands above their
heads. An American doughboy stood
in the driveway with a tommygun
pointed at them. We drove on for
about so yards and stopped. The
drivers shut off their diesel motors.
One officer went into an or.
chard to try to find where the
tanks were. In wartime nobody
ever knows where anything is.
The rest Of US waited along the
road beside an old stone barn.
Three jeeps were parked beside
it. The dusk was deeper now.
Out of the orchards around us
roared and Numbered our own
artillery. An officer lit a cigaret.
A sergeant with a rifle slung on
his shoulder walked up and said,
You better put that out, sir.
There's snipers all around and
they'll shoot at a cigaret."
The officer crushed the .cigaret in
his fingers, not waiting to drop it to
the ground, and said, Thanks"
'It's for your W good" the ser.
geant said, apologetically.