Sunday, October 09, 2005

Slovakia, Autumn 1944 - p.5: Firefight

Shortly after our arrival there was an incident. Another squad out on patrol got into a firefight. They had no casualties and returned to the base camp with a badly wounded German soldier. Those of us on the hill were told about it a day later, also that the soldier had to be shot to end his suffering, there was no way to help him. Anyone of us with more than light injuries would most likely have met the same fate. It was impossible to get a wounded man to some distant hospital across those high mountains to the south of us.
After the above event our days settled into a quiet routine. By now we paid no attention to the frequent machine gun rattle and rifle fire coming from the distance. My overriding concern was the creeping nightly cold and the almost constant hunger. I watched with envy as other guys went down to the nearest village to get food. Somehow their groups managed to avoid the days when the village was visited by German troops from the town of Martin.

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Now jumping ahead to October 16, 1944 Monday


Grey skies but no rain in the morning. With about eight other guys I was allowed to go to Jaseno. Rucksacks, blankets and other unnecessary gear were left in our shallow dugouts on the hill. Each of us carried a rifle and a knapsack with cartridges and at least two hand grenades. In the village we dispersed, trying to find a dwelling where we could beg or pay for food. I was cautious, one did not know whether one entered a friendly or hostile household. In the house I entered there was only a young peasant woman. We stared at each other, finally I asked her for water. I watched her in the kitchen as she dipped an enamelled mug into a water bucket. Afterwards she sold me for five Slovak crowns (koruna) a large slice of homemade bread. I ate a small piece and stuffed the rest in my coat pocket. Just then I heard noise and shouting from the outside.

I ran out of the house to see our guys gathering and pointing farther down the road. There soldiers in German uniforms were jumping out of two blue-grey trucks and started to shoot and move toward us. We turned tail and ran toward the edge of the village with the soldiers behind us. We retreated into the village cemetery near the church and taking cover behind gravestones started to return the fire. Around me was a lot of shouting and noise; my brain did not seem to work, there was only automatic, unthinking action. Our group ran out of the cemetery and dispersed on the steep slope that led to our hilltop position. We ran, skidded and climbed on all fours on the open terrain while the earth around us was peppered from a machine gun which the Germans fired from a window of the church tower. None of us was hit.

Thus ended my first firefight.

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