AAR of Jan. 14^th, Neoga, IL event, from the perspective of 

SS-Unterschaführer T. Bauman, Gruppenführer 1.3.1
 

It began like many of the blocking actions that I have participated in as of late. Men came to the rally location in ones and twos, some by truck, train, and motorcar, on foot and even one by bicycle. By the time I arrived, with my Kompanie’s Sani, many other men, made home in a storage barn alongside a civilian occupied farmhouse. I recognized many of the faces from other Zugs in our Kompanie, and noticed many new replacements among their numbers. My former Chefderzugführertruppen, SS-Oberscharführer S. Grear, greeted me with a smile, he was as pleased to see me, as I was to see him. He informed me we were to move out in the morning, once the SS-Sturmbannführer and his command element had arrived and judged their assets. Morning arrived to the sounds of Komrades donning equipment, I crawled out from under my warm blanket to the embrace of the chilled room.

Our Sani, M. Bergmaun, was put on report, and assigned kitchen duty, due to the fact that he sustained a non-combat injury that took him off the Fit for Duty roster. The story he told was that he began to rebuild the fire early in the morning and ran into a rakish man that had no love for soldats.  The man struck him in the mouth without warning.  His fist felt as solid as oak.  By the time he regained his senses, the offender was gone, leaving him to explain what occurred to his immediate superior, Zugführer, SS-Untersturmführer J. Cornell.

As with most armies the world over, it was a hurry up and wait affair. We needed transport to ferry men to the location selected to cut off the serpent’s head of the advancing Allied armies. I took my squad, with a Granatwerfer 36 50mm mortar team, and set up on the backside of a wooded hill. We covered two cross roads and an empty farmer’s field. Our command element, set up past the crossroads, stayed close to the surviving armoured 251 half-track and a reconnaissance Schwimmwagen.

Before long, we sighted enemy paratrooper’s skirting the tree line on the far side of the field.  Truppenführer W. Kreuz was instructed to wait until they passed our position, before kicking them in the arse.  I then went to find Gruppenführer M. Dalman and Truppenführer C. Benecke with Second squad manner. I wanted them to re-deploy closer and support the attack.  Gunfire rang out!  Undisciplined Wehrmacht men, not under my control, acted rash, firing well before the trap could be sprung. Their error cost me many good men!  If the Wehrmacht had not died in the action, I would have personally shot them! Just then, we started to be reconnoitered by a 50-cal. machine gun.  Taking what was left of Second squad, Truppenführer C. Benecke and myself flanked the position and putdown the gunner and his assistants.  The gun, located across the open field, could not be captured.  For now the paratroopers and a Ranger Kompanie were pinching us.  The Rangers had a strange orange diamond on the back of the helmet.  I could see it plainly from the dozens of helmets pitched to the ground from the heads of men cut down.

I saw our position was increasingly deteriorating, I motioned to the Command element to move, and we fought a running action to relocate a new front. When we came to a halt, sometime after noon. The position chosen was atop a series of hills, laid out like a hand.  Near the palm were two blown out foundations, one of a house, the other a barn.  After setting guards, the task at hand was to find the Sani, and hopefully a warm meal!  Engine noise was heard!  The motor pool officer SS-Hauptsturmführer R. Graebe, disguised as an SS-Untersturmführer, found our position and brought the warm meal in large containers.  The stew was thick and made by our Sani, I knew, because of the carrots.  He loves carrots!  It was his signature.  Even when he wasn’t able to tend our wounds, he still found a way to make us feel better!

After the meal, we took up positions on the hills spread out like the fingers.

As we had hoped, in the Americans rush to gobble up ground, they did not send an adequate reconnoiter.  Their main body was now being torn to pieces by rifle and mortar fire in the valleys of the fingers with no hope of safe retreat.  If not for two exceptions, the rout would have been complete.  A small force of three had gained access to the very foundations where we had our meal.  They had to be displaced before they could cause further harm.  Secondly, sometime later, a half squad managed the same feat.  If not for the keen sight of SS-Sturmbannführer T. Thaler, alerting me to the situation, they could have wreaked havoc from the covered location.  With his direction, and support from two SS-Soldats, I crawled, with P-38 in hand, ever closer to the yawning portal of the ruined barn.  The man inside was too curious about the noise and made himself a target.  My right side cover Soldat ended his curiosity.  I sought cover from a shattered exterior wall and with verbal signals from SS-Stubaf Thaler, began extermination of the vermin.  I returned to SS-Stubaf Thaler and thanked him for the spotting of my quarry.

Later that same afternoon, the guard shadowing the SS-Sturmbannführer, did not see the threat from across the valley.  The SS-Sturmbannführer took many hits from an allied rifle.  When I happened upon his bloody body, the SS-Feldgendarmerie was still firing round after round in the direction of the assault. I sighted my friend the Sani, sitting in a Schwimmwagen muttering to himself.  I called to him for aid on behalf of the SS-Sturmbannführer.  He looked at me, then the form on the ground, then straight ahead.  That’s when I could hear his muttering, “he’s already dead, he’s already dead, he’s already dead.”  I must admit, my morale was a bit shaken.  Not but a moment ago, this man gave me direction and probably saved my life.  That could not ever again happen!

Someone shouting jarred me. Those now in command gave orders to follow the 251 half-track to a position we would hold throughout the night.  In the fading light I could see the position.  It was the farmer’s barn, were I last slept.  Could we have moved back that much?

Stepping inside, I was again greeted by SS-Oscha Grear, a drink in hand, offering it to me.   I drank the dark bitter brew.  He clapped me on the shoulder and talked of what had taken place this day.  He told me that my name was mentioned among the reports, and he would not be surprised if I was promoted for my actions.  I thought to myself, was it promotion for actions or promotion to replace those not coming back.  The thought was more bitter than the drink.

Meine Ehre Heisst Treue!
Chefderzugführertruppen  SS-Oberscharführer T. Bauman 1.3