The Battle of Aachen

It was September of 1944, the Allies were pushing into Germany from the west, and the Battle of Aachen was about to be fought. This time I was a German citizen, or should I say, we were German citizens, as I was with my wife and her sister too. Our homes had been bombed out, and with nowhere left to turn, we became refugees wandering across the countryside, with only a couple of small suitcases holding all that was left of our meager belongings.

Now, things were not going well for us. I had a brother some seventy kilometers away and we were making for there, but somehow we got turned around and disoriented. We had no compass, as no one had thought to bring one along. We did have a map but just couldn’t find any worthwhile landmarks to place ourselves on it. And if you have ever traveled with two overheated, overtired, and over-argumentative women, well you can only imagine what I was going through. The fighting, the blaming, and the bickering were getting as unbearable as the hot sun shining down on us. To top it all off, I was injured too.

Yes, I had a bad leg, a broken ankle, or just a sprained one, who knew for sure. All I knew is that it hurt like hell. We would make our way for a little while, with me hobbling along, but it would be too painful and I would have to stop often to rest. Progress was awfully slow, and since each of us knew we were the one who was right, but not agreeing on that direction, only made the going more frustrating. I had to stop and rest again.

How did it happen? Why, I stepped on a mine, while I was scouting ahead to protect you two, I might add. The laughter at that from my wife hurt my ears. “Are you kidding me? You idiot! You stepped into a hole because you were not paying attention to where you were walking, as usual. We should have never listened to you, and you know we are going the wrong way, let me see the map again...”

As so it goes on that way, just like that. Speaking of people we should have never listened to, that reminds me of someone. The Fuehrer had always done right by us, I always thought. Put everyone back to work, put food back on the tables, knew how to get things done, he did. Brought pride back to Deutschland, at last after being shamed from that damned Versailles treaty. We could again stand tall and proud. It seemed anyway. Well...war is never good, but sometimes it is necessary, and, on the radio it seemed he had a good reason for everything he was doing. He wanted peace, or so he told us, it was everyone else who dragged us into this. I believed what I was told...

As a loyal citizen I had my copy of Mein Kampf, but you know, I guess I never really read it. Maybe I should have. They say now everything he did was all in there, the attack on Russia, all of it. Really? Didn’t anybody read it? It put me to sleep. The war was okay while we kept winning, it was easy to get caught up in it, the excitement of it all, almost a fever in a way. Every great leader expands his territory, right? Through conquest? It is what is expected, it has happened over and over through history. There was victory after victory, and we started to think we were better, started to really believe it. Now everyone you meet says no, they hated him all along, never liked him from the start. How easy the opinions change as the wind blows the other way. The truth is, we all believed in him.

But things have definitely gone too far now, have gone very, very badly. It was all wrong, terribly wrong. We oughtn’t have done it, any of it, but now it is much too late. He lied to us, he really did, he deceived us. And now it seems the old bastard is determined to drag us all down with him, and I’m not sure where to turn. We really are not bad people, you have to understand this, we just had a bad boss. I never voted for him.

As I rested sitting on the suitcase they started fighting again. I don’t know what started it this time, the direction we are going, who has how much money hidden, or the time of day. They started screaming and hitting each other with their little umbrellas they use for shade. Oh, how these two sisters can fight! At least I am not in the middle of it this time, but the noise, I put my hands on my ears and shook my head, and then painfully rose and tried to pull them apart. “Lets keep going,” I said, and at last they stopped quarreling and we moved on. If it just wasn’t so hot out...

Suddenly we heard a vehicle approaching from behind. A military vehicle, who could it be, the Allies? Should we hide? No, they are some of our boys, speeding past in a kubelwagen. My wife desperately waves for them to stop, and thankfully they do.

The driver screamed at us, “What are you all doing out here? Don’t you know the Allies are behind us? There is going to be all hell unleashed here in a few minutes, you have to get out of here now, get in!”

So we hurried and piled into the kubelwagen, and as we did so I could here a plane flying overhead. I glanced up – it was American. Looked like reconnaissance, an observation plane. As we drove off I started hearing gunfire all around me. There were our boys, German soldiers dug in all around us, some of them taking pot shots at the plane with their rifles. All that time they were right ahead of us, laying in wait. We were much too naive to have even noticed them.

Following in our procession was a troop transport truck, and it pulled in behind the dug in line and parked out of the way, the soldiers inside quickly jumping out. Seeing I had the injured leg, the kubelwagen driver pulled up to the truck and let me out, and I quickly pulled myself into the back of it and out of sight. Hopefully I would be safe there. The kubelwagen sped off again with my wife and sister still on board, where they went to I did not know. Luckily for me there was a medic still in the truck, and he tended to my leg with some first aide supplies. Other than that there was little to do but hunker down and hope I didn’t get hit with the battle closing in.

Out the back of the truck I could see in the distance the Allies approaching. The German soldiers turned their guns in their direction and started firing. I could hear the bursts of automatic machine gun fire, and the deeper booms of artillery guns going off, accompanied by clouds of smoke. The medic finished with my leg and calmly sat on the bench in the truck across from me. How can he be so calm? I am terrified, the shooting is getting closer, and there is nothing really protecting me here in this truck. I laid down on the bench to try to keep a lower profile.

Outside I heard the distinctive sound of a plane coming in and swooping low over the battlefield. That was no spotter plane this time, that was a fighter. I briefly leaned out of the back of the truck to have a look. Yep, a fighter all right, and American. I could see the plane circling around to come in for another pass. I heard the engine sound grow louder as it approached again, and then swooped in, engine screaming, its machine guns blasting at the ground in a successive trail. I saw the bullets cut across several of the men close to me. That was enough for me and I ducked back into the truck. The medic hopped out and started to help the men who were hit.

The Allies drew closer. I could see them through the smoke jump out of their trenches, run closer and duck behind new cover. They also had several jeeps and half-tracks that had approached uncomfortably close. These vehicles had mounted machine guns that were blazing away in my general direction. I heard the tinkle sound of several rounds glancing off the truck. I again went to a prone position on the bench, better to make myself less of a target, even an accidental one. My fear grew as the battle became so close it was enveloping all around me. At this point I no longer cared who won, I just wanted it to end. Again the fighter plane came in for another pass.

(My view looking out from inside the back of the truck. Notice the crowd watching the battle on the right.)

Then I heard a different sound, the sound of metal tracks squeaking and the deep rumble of a diesel engine. I ventured to peer out around the side of the truck again, and off in the distance coming out from between the trees was a Tiger tank, slowly rumbling along towards the battle. Now, here we go! The Allies as far as I could tell didn’t have any heavy armor present, so this should put the Germans at quite the advantage. The Tiger entered the battlefield and started firing its main gun, blasting at the Allied positions in clouds of dust and smoke. The Allies quickly sought cover and began to retreat. Their fighter plane continued to make strafing runs but this was useless against a Tiger tank. It looked like the Tiger had free reign in this battle and the Allies were done for...

But wait, what was this? I heard a loud engine ramping up in the tree line nearby, a tree ripping sound, and then crashing forth from the trees burst an American tank, a Sexton by the looks of it, and it began to pursue the Tiger. All this time the Allied tank had been hidden in the woods right next to our line. How could this of happened? They had waited until the Tiger had passed by so they could pull out behind it. The Tiger crew heard this happen and quickly wheeled their tank around to face this new foe. But the Sexton was moving fast and was already passing the Tiger. That thing really moved!



The Tiger fired over and over but could not make a hit, as it couldn’t turn its turret fast enough keep up with the Sexton. Rotating on its tracks seemed faster than moving the turret. The Sexton was literally moving so fast it was running laps around the Tiger. But eventually their luck ran out and the Tiger scored a hit. It was too much for the Sexton and it came to a halt near some surprised German troops in their trench.

These German ground troops turned their attention to the American tank, lobbing several grenades at it and firing upon those who tried to exit. The fate of the tank crew was not clear but I don’t think there were any survivors. With the American tank out of action the tide of the battle began to turn in the German’s favor. The Allies kept getting pushed back with the Germans advancing to fill in the void. It certainly looked like the Allies were going to lose this round.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about this. At this point in the war I really didn’t think Germany could win. What was the point in fighting on? How many more people have to lose their homes to the bombs? How many more have to die? My loyalties are torn. Yes, I am German, but part of me wants to see the Allies have their victory so this can all be over with. That would be the best thing I think. But to speak this way would be treason and surely I would be shot. But please, just let it be over soon.

I seemed to be getting my wish, in this battle anyway, as it seemed to be winding down. In the distance I could see the Allies retreating into the woods, with many of them surrendering with their hands in the air. Yes, the German Wehrmacht has won this battle, but I know its not over. The Allies will regroup with reinforcements and will be back. Then it will all happen over again. More shooting, more killing, and more misery. Hopefully I can find my wife and sister and be out of here before then. But where will we go? We have nothing left, no home to go to, no food, hardly any money, and nothing but destruction in every direction we turn. Looking around outside the truck I found my wife lying near a shell crater, and she is not moving. Dear God, no...

The battle participants now spent some time looking for any unspent shell casings lying on the ground. Of course only blanks were used, and the empty shells were spread all over. Then the ropes are dropped, and the crowd, who has been watching the whole battle unfold, are unleashed onto the battlefield. Hundreds of people begin to stream across the ground, the children looking for the spent brass shell casings to keep as souvenirs, and the adults begin talking with the reenactors. I spent some time talking with a few people, and I even posed for some photographs with the other refugees. Quite a crowd had gathered around the Tiger tank, which seemed to be quite a draw. Well it should be, as it was the actual prop tank used in the filming of the movie “Saving Private Ryan”.

As the crowd clustered around the tank, I scanned over the people and noticed an elderly gentleman who had hung back and was watching from a distance. He wore a baseball cap with the distinctive lettering “POW WW II” on it. Ah, here was a real veteran, the real deal, yet no one in the crowd was paying any attention to him. I made my way over to him and struck up a conversation, asking where he had served, and where he had been a POW.

Turns out he participated in the Battle of the Bulge in the Ardennes area on the western front in 1944. When I asked him how he was captured he laughed, saying it wasn’t too exciting how it happened. Several members of his unit were sleeping in a bunker when their position was overrun by the Germans. Even in a war people have to sleep. They were simply woken up by the Germans and taken prisoner. He was then taken to the Moosberg prisoner of war camp in southern Germany.  This immediately rang a bell with me as I had just finished reading the book “The Longest Winter” by Alex Kershaw, which had specifically mentioned this POW camp.

So I had to ask, “Is it true, what I read, that in that camp the lice were so big you could hear a popping sound when you squeezed them between your fingers?”

“Yes...its true,” he said as he held up his fingers to show just how they would do it. I had to shudder. I just couldn’t imagine being in the camp and going through all that. We talked a few minutes more. He seemed to like my old timey clothes and we even compared the suspenders that we were both wearing. I asked him what he thought of the battle he had just witnessed. He looked out across the battlefield at the people milling about, scratched his chin, and said it was not bad. He added, “But you know, that was over 60 years ago,” and with that he turned and walked away. Whatever issues this veteran may have had from his experiences, it was obvious he had gotten over them and moved on.



I enjoy meeting and talking with these veterans when I can. I feel lucky to have the opportunity to do so as someday there won't be many left. In my eyes truly the Greatest Generation.

All color photos by Rey.
All black and white photos courtesy of the Lockport Township Park District.