There was a deep ditch on the
opposite side of the road into which many of the enemy had jumped in an effort
to escape fire from the bunker. You
could make out the tops of German heads in the flashes from grenades. Most were wearing cloth caps instead of
helmets. This indicated they had
expected no opposition in this area.
We had sent several grenades
rolling down the slope to prevent the enemy from scaling our embankment. I was sure there were three or four left but
I couldn't seem to find them. Very carefully,
I moved my hand along the top of the parapet just a few inches at a time,
feeling for all the world as if I was in a dream doing everything in slow
motion. I had no luck at all which meant
that we had either used up all the grenades or had accidentally pushed them
over the edge in the excitement.
It was a murderous ambush, with
frontal fire from the pillbox and flanking fire from the two side
trenches. The enemy tried scaling our
breastwork several times but we drove them back with grenades and rifle fire. I
was between my two comrades, lying on my stomach, firing nearly straight down,
when suddenly the lights went out. When
I came to, a couple of minutes later, I was sitting in the bottom of the trench
with my head between my knees. George told
me that one of the enemy had gotten to the lip of the trench and had hit me
with his rifle butt. The German was shot
at point blank range by George.