Note: I had written to my squad leader, Bill Angsten, received this letter ,and included it in one of my letters to Mother. Don Martin, the letter writer, was one of our squad members, a Californian from middle of the state - never got his home address - off red hair, freckled face, burr hair cut, balding a bit, age 21, 5’8” and 150 pounds, tough as nails. He was our ‘cartoonist’ - could and did turn any situation into a comic strip cartoon in two minutes. He used cartoons as one way to write home. Could have been a book rivaling the best - maybe he did get one out. The cartoon included with these letters of the warriors getting chickens he drew for me - I was not only chicken cook but often also chicken catcher.


May 20, 1945

Steinach, Austria


Dear Van:

    Bill is on furlough to England so will do the honor of answering your letter of May 1.

    Say, boy, it’s been a long time no see. We certainly missed you and we mean it. Remember when you left us? Well, it wasn’t long after that, that we moved to Ingweiler just a few miles from where you left us. There we stayed for nearly a month. We had it fairly nice. Once in a while we’d dodge a few of our own artillery, but that’s about all. Then came the day of the big push off. Our artillery laid down one of their biggest barrages that a person ever heard. It lasted for 35 minutes. My ears are still ringing.

    We went into Mulhouse where our boys in the morning had most of the casualties. The foot mine did it’s dirt in that sector. We pulled into Mulhouse at night and the town was ablaze from what our artillery did. Well anyhow there was a hot fire here and there so a person didn’t have to worry about a field jacket to keep warm. We got 7 or 8 120 mm from the Jerries that night, but that was all. The next morning we pulled out. It was clear sailing from there to the Siegfried.

    We made it to Bobenthal, “our old stomping grounds last winter”, about two days after the push off. That was a rat race I’ll never forget. We were continually trying to out run the artillery, AA, TD’s, Generals, Colonels and whatnot to Bobenthal. Broadway NY on a Saturday night couldn’t have been more complicated.

    Finally when we arrived at our old stomping grounds, we moved into that big house where the C.P. was last time. Remember? There we were committed as litter bearers - yes - all of anti-tank. The rifle boys stayed in the same dugouts that they made last winter. There we watched our artillery peck at a pillbox and every time a 155 mm shell would hit it the Jerries would fire a burp gun out of the slits just to mock our artillery. It got to be a joke after a bit.

    Two days later the Bat. pulled out and by-passed many of the pill boxes. Then a mad scramble to the Rhine. It was the same as the first rat race. The Jerries were giving up by the Battalions and even more in groups. Every town had its white flag out and hardly a shot was fired. And no casualties.

    Those poor Jerries they were frisked and frisked and refrisked. By the time our Regiment had passed them they were lucky if they had the hair on their chest left!

    I remember one time we were building a bridge and the General, “Nuts”**(Don drew two stars here) was there hurrying us up, when two Krauts came up to give up. No one would bother to take them prisoner so they pitched in and helped us. We pulled out leaving them looking at us. I guess they went home.

    The boys and yours truly had plenty of wine, champagne, etc. Yes, I did see what our air corps did. Let me tell you that what I saw was hell in any man’s language. From the Sigfried to the Rhine were remnants of what was left of Jerry convoys - hundreds of dead stinking horses and many dead Krauts sprawled all over the place. We passed one Kraut who was still alive on the bank just above the road. No one paid any attention to him. Guess he’s buried by now.

    We stayed in a little burg near the Rhine where one outfit ran across 127,000 quarts of champagne. Each man in the Regiment got a bottle and the officers a case. They had a hell of a time pulling me out of the clouds. It was a damn good thing the enemy didn’t attack. Everyone was drunk as the lord. The sober ones, and that was damned few, pulled all night guard.

    We dilly dallied around a couple of weeks on this side of the Rhine where the refugee tail was free, then we crossed the Rhine. I found some more champagne, the best a person ever tasted. I landed back to normal a day later.

    We went into reserve for a while. Boy that was the life. Finally we pulled out and committed again only this time it was a picnic. More wine, champagne, schnapps, cognac and whatnot. Everyone in the outfit has a Jerry pistol and many have 7 or 8. Also watches. I’ve got 20 watches and a little 32 cal. Mauser.

    The only trouble we had or rather a sweat bath was when we went past the Kaisers castle. There it stood about 800 feet above us like a huge medieval fortress and the previous orders for the convoy  was to go like a bat out of hell past it. Now I don’t have to tell you what happened. We crawled slowly up the hill and then finally stopped with the damned thing staring down at us. No shots were fired and all was OK.

    The only soldiers that we were up against were the Volkstrom “home guard” made up of local yokels from 7 to 70. They were armed with small arms, but a bazooka or artillery round would disarm everyone of them who heard it. They would come running and yelling ‘Kamrad!’ and all that sort of junk.

It got to be such a nuisance that hundreds and hundreds would be walking down the convoy without one guard. We were on such a rampage that we didn’t have time to bother with them.

Finally, Lt. Engen got permission to corral a few so our platoon rounded up about 1800 and put two of our men and three or four liberated Frenchman on guard. It was a silly idea. They could have trampled us into the ground if they’d wanted to. I stood my guard and went to bed. When I woke in the morning we had 3000 PW’s who had come in on their own. Lt. Engen told the Kraut officer to order his men to shell out all of their watches and knives. We got a bushel basket full of watches of every type and double that amount of knives. We took what we wanted and gave the rest to the French guards. About a couple hours later we pulled out and left the poor devils to their lonesome with no one to guard them.

    We landed in Landsburg where our outfit was. There I got my first eye view of the German concentration camp for political prisoners. Before I never believed fully what our propaganda used to say about such a place existing in Germany. Boy it was a hell of a sight. The camp was in charge of SS troops where they tortured, beat and starved every prisoner. Most were Jews. There were dead bodies everywhere. There was a cart stacked full of the dead. Nothing but skin and bones. I stood and watched one die. There was nothing a person could do to save him. Most of them were half crazed and fought like mad dogs over a scrap of food. The medics said not to stay long nor let them touch you or let them have cigarettes. They were diseased and they would have to have a hospital diet for months. Smoking might have killed most of them.

    Well, that’s that about the dirty mess. Anyway, we pulled out of Landsburg with plenty of liquor and warm Kraut clothes for we had the mission to go through the Brenner Pass and meet the 5th Army or rather the 88th Division and we heard that there was two foot of snow.

    We had a picnic. I went fishing with grenades and got results.

    Now we are situated about 16 miles from Innsbruck which you’ve no doubt read about in the papers. 409 took that burg. The boys have been taking it easy and enjoying them selves in a few wild parties with a few wild things around here that you’re missing out on.

    Well, Van, I’ll sign off for now. If there’s any more you’d like to know just write. Censorship has been lifted.


Sincerely yours, As ever,


Don Martin