THIS WAS REPORTED TODAY, NOVEMBER 4, 1944:BY ERNIE PYLE
IN NORMANDY, August, 1944
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER "4, I944
Threaten Big City
BY J. EDWARD MURRAY
(United Press War Correspondent)
PARIS, Nov. 4—(U.P.)_
The American 1st Army methodically widened and deepened its new wedge in Germany's west wall 87 miles or less southwest of Cologne today .preparing another springboard for a winter offensive aimed at the Rhineland. Lt. Gen. Courtney Hodges' doughboys fanned out on a three mile front beyond Schmidt and Germeter some 12 to 15 miles southeast of Aachen toward the Roer river barrier to the Cologne plain.
Moderate to heavy resistance was being encountered in ;the Schmidt area, Supreme Headquarters reported in a communique. American forces cleaning out Siegfried line pillboxes in the woods just northwest of Schmidt also said the enemy was resisting stubbornly.
In Southwest Holland, other American troops linked up with the British to form a solid three mile bridgehead across the Mark river within three and a half
miles' of the Holland Deep.
The American captured De Kreek, six and a half miles south of the 14-span Moerdijk escape bridge across the Holland Deep.
Polish units carved out a second bridgehead across the Mark farther east, capturing Den Bout, four miles north of Breda.
BY HENRY SHAPIRO
United Press War Correspondent)
MOSCOW, Nov. 4.—(U.P)—
Soviet armored spearheads smashed through disintegrating enemy lines into the southeastern outskirts of Budapest today and the fate of Germany's last satellite capital well may be decided in the next 72 hours.
A British exchange telegraph dispatch from Moscow said street fighting was expected to start momentarily in Budapest.)
All signs indicated that Hungarian resistance had collapsed completely below the capital despite frantic enemy efforts to reinforce the lines with all available reserves, security units and rear area units.
Front dispatches said the entire German-Hungarian army group b e t w e e n the Danube and the Tisza rivers southeast of Budapest had been shattered and broken up into isolated units, with only a few escaping toward the capital.
This is the47th of the Ernie Pyle war
dispatches that are being reprinted
during Ernie's vacation.
BY ERNIE PYLE
IN NORMANDY, August, 1944
It is possible to become so enthralled by some of the spectacles of war that you are momentarily captivated away from your own danger.
That's what happened to our little group of soldiers as we stood in a French farmyard watching the mighty bombing of the German lines just before our
But that benign state didn't last long. As we watched, there crept into our consciousness are realization that windrows of exploding bombs were easing back toward us, flight by flight, instead of gradually forward, as the plan called for.
Then we were horrified by the suspicion that those machines, high in the sky and completely detached from us, were aiming their bombs at the smokeline on,
the ground—and a gentle breeze was drifting the smokeline back over us!
An indescribable kind of panic comes over you at such times. We stood tensed in muscle and frozen in intellect, watching each flight approach and pass over us, feeling trapped and completely helpless.
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And then all an instant the universe became filled with a gigantic rattling as of huge, dry seeds in a mammoth dry gourd. I doubt that any of us had ever heard
that sound before, but instinct told us what it was. It was bombs by the hundred, hurtling down through the air above us.
Many times I've heard bombs whistle or swish or rustle, but never before had 1 heard bombs rattle. I still don't know the explanation of it. But it is an awful
sound. We dived. Some got in a dugout. Others made foxholes and ditches and some got behind a garden wall—although which side would be "behind" was anybody's guess.
It was too late for the dugout. The nearest place was a wagonshed which formed one end of the stone house. The rattle was right down upon us. I remember
hitting the ground flat, all spread out like the cartoons of people flattened by steam rollers, and then squirming like an eel to get under one of the heavy wagons in the shed.
An officer whom I didn't know was wriggling beside me. We stopped at the same time, simultaneously feeling it was hopeless to go more farther. The bombs
were already crashing around us. We lay with our heads slightly up—like two snakes—staring at each other. I know it was in both our minds and in our eyes asking each other what to do Neither of us knew. We said nothing. We just lay sprawled gaping at each other in a futile appeal, our faces about a foot apart, until it was over.
There is no description of the sound and fury of those bomb,' except to say it was chaos, and a waiting for darkness. The feeling of the blast was sensational. The air struck you in hundreds of continuing flutters. Your ears drummed and rang. You could feel quick little waves of confusions on your chest and in your
At last the sound died down and we looked at each other in disbelief. Gradually we left the foxholes and sprawling places, and came out to see what the sky
had in store for us. As far as we could see other waves were approaching from behind. When a wave would pass a little to the side of us we were garrulously
grateful, for most of them flew directly overhead.
Time and again the rattle came down over us. Bombs struck in the orchard to our left. They struck in orchards ahead of us. They struck as far as half a milebehind us. Everything about us was shaken, but our group came thorough unhurt