ANDY ADKINS

The first real test came on August 20, 1944, when the 2d Battalion, 317th Infantry, attacked high ground near Argentan during the Allied drive to seal huge German forces in the Falaise Pocket. While scouting for mortar positions in the woods, Andy Adkins ran into a group of Germans and shot one of them dead with his carbine. This baptism in blood taught him the answer to a question every novice combatant wants to hear: He was cool under fire, capable of killing when facing the enemy. He later wrote, "It was a sickening sight, but having been caught up in the heat of battle, I didn't have a reaction other than feeling I had saved my own life."

Thereafter, the 2d Battalion, 317th Infantry, took part in a succession of bloody battles across France. Ineptly led through the tenures of several battalion commanders, the unit suffered grievous losses even as it took hills and towns away from brave and well-led German veterans. In the course of fighting graphically portrayed in this soldier's memoir, Andy Adkins acted with remarkable skill and courage, placing himself at the forefront of the action whenever he could. His extremely aggressive delivery of critical supplies to a cut-off unit in an embattled French town earned him a Bronze Star Medal, the first such award in his battalion. You Can't Get Much Closer Than This is at heart a young soldier's story of war. In vibrant, piercing terms, a junior officer's coming of age in battle is the compelling focus of page after page of action sequences.

Several artillery shells landed on top of us as we hugged close to the ground. Sergeant Martin Roach got hit in the back and legs, and was screaming in pain. Sergeant Volk tried to get up, but he couldn't; both his legs were broken. I was knocked out for a little while. When I regained my senses, I heard Private Freeman yell. He was one of Bill Butz's boys. He had a hole all the way through his side, and he was hurting bad. I cut his shirt off, saw that I couldn't help him, and had someone carry him to the aid station. Sergeant Ralph Freeman, my platoon sergeant, was dazed from a concussion. I slapped him a few times and he came to. I lost nine men in the one little barrage, so I told Kad to get the hell out of there, into the draw behind us.

Company F couldn't move, so the major decided to send Company E through with tanks from the 6th Armored Division. Five Shermans came up the road with riflemen alongside. Lieutenant Henry Walker's rifle platoon was leading, and as usual he was up front with the first tank. I grinned and yelled, "What the hell's the matter? You getting scared and have to have tanks with you?" He grinned and yelled, "Hell no. But I do know that my life's not worth two cents!" That was the last time I saw Hank alive. He was killed a few minutes later.

The German Nebelwerfer was equipped with five rockets. Due to its design, the rocket made a screaming sound as it flew through the air. They used high explosives but were not very accurate. They would, however, scare the crap out of you. Hence the name "screaming meemies."

Several men were hit. Some of the men hit the ground and wanted to stay there. That would have been suicide, but it was tough to get them up and keep them moving. When we got over the top of the hill and out of sight, the Krauts stopped shooting at us.

We were to set up the 81s behind Company G. A small patch of woods was near our proposed position. We had to search and clear that area first. We found two dead frozen Krauts who had been killed during the first part of the breakthrough. About two hundred yards from the guns was a huge house.

It was Christmas Day. Kad and I were determined to get our men warm. We went to investigate the house and found that an antiaircraft outfit had been there before the breakthrough and, from the equipment and supplies left behind, it was easy to see that they had moved out in a hurry.

We left a skeleton crew with the mortars and moved the rest of the men into the house. The company and battalion CPs were in Niederfeulen, so I went to see Bill Mounts to find out what was cooking. Junior, my runner, went with me. The Krauts were shelling the town and it was difficult to get around, but we finally found Bill. He was sitting in the cellar of a house, eating apples.

When you're within range of German artillery, you want to be in the cellar. In many cases, the first and second floors had been blown away, but even if they weren't, they were inviting targets for German artillery. Anyone other than a front-line battle infantryman walking into one of those cellars would immediately consider it uninhabitable. It smelled bad--the air was a mixture of sweat, brick dust, soot, cigarette smoke, and oftentimes urine. It would not be breathable by a normal human being. But, every infantryman who was lucky enough to find one of those cellars thought it the most desirable place on earth. They were secure from all but a direct artillery hit. Most important, they were dry and out of the direct weather. The exhausted trooper could push some straw into a corner, lie down, and plunge into a deep sleep, completely relaxed.

Fifteen thousand of them had overpowered their SS guards at Buchenwald. They had taken their weapons and went out to kill Krauts, particularly SS. Major Williams was a little skeptical. About that time one of Company G's scouts brought up an SS soldier he had caught in the woods. The major pointed to the Kraut and told the Russians "Him SS." One of the Russians said, "Give him to me." Then he kicked the SS man and told him to start running. He ran only twenty yards before he had more holes in him than a sieve.

We later became more acquainted with the Russian escapees and learned a lot about daily life in the concentration camp. Two of them were infantry lieutenants who had been captured at Stalingrad. They wanted to stay with us and fight with the Americans until we met up with the Russians. When we got to Weimar, the major put them into GI uniforms. They were happy to take care of any SS troops for us.

Lieutenant George McDonell, Company E's CO, and one of my machine gun platoons were guarding and maintaining order at the Buchenwald concentration camp. Buchenwald was horrible beyond description. There were thousands of prisoners there composed of every nationality, creed, and color in the world. Twenty different languages were spoken there.

I walked into a prisoner barracks with McDonell. A hundred men could have arranged themselves comfortably in there, but the Krauts had crowded in a thousand men. There were wooden bunks from the floor to the ceiling, just like shelves. Once a man got on his "shelf" he didn't even have enough room to turn over.

Some of the prisoners had a thin, stinking blanket. Others had none. Some were too weak to get up, and they looked at us with dull eyes, not realizing who we were or what was going on. To say that they were nothing but skin and bones is not enough. They had ugly looking sores, swollen ankles, and their minds were deranged.

Everything stank. General McBride came out and inspected Buchenwald. He then ordered all the windows to be broken out and said he would send several truckloads of blankets down. Of course, higher echelons were sending medical staffs and food. There were more than twenty thousand prisoners still in Buchenwald by the time the 80th Division arrived. This was the first major German concentration camp to fall into Allied hands while it still had a full population of prisoners.

Outside were thousands upon thousands of naked bundles of skin and bones, their torsos and faces twisted in all sorts of grotesque designs. Bodies were stacked on top of bodies, neatly arranged, and stacked like cords of wood. The stack was about five or six feet high and extended for about fifty feet. All were dead, all were naked, all were face up. It was a sickening sight, because beyond this stack of bodies were more stacks of bodies.

Then we discovered the crematorium. Set in the brick walls were small openings with iron doors about two feet wide and two feet high. There were several sets of these doors, most were closed, but we found one open. Inside, were heavy metal trays with partially burned bodies. It looked like each tray could hold three bodies at one time.

Toward the end of the war, it was estimated that about five thousand prisoners died each month at Buchenwald. We found one huge hole where thousands of naked bodies had been dumped. The Krauts had tried to burn the bodies to hide the evidence, but we had gotten there too soon. The smell of death stayed in my nostrils for days.