Waggoners Gap

Chapter 2-3

Once again that morning, Genero saved York’s life. Genero yelled a warning to York. York heard it, ducked and spun in the direction of the German at the same instant.

Before the enemy could extend his arm with the 9mm Luger in his hand, Genero shot him in the center of his chest. As the sergeant staggered back from the force of the bullet, York shot him in the forehead at point-blank range. The force of York’s shot picked the German up horizontal to the ground and three feet in the air, carrying him back five or six feet and dumping his lifeless body on the rocky glade.

York looked over at Genero. He shook his head. “I reckon I’ll be thanking ya again, boy.”

Genero nodded his head in tacit recognition, one brave soldier to another.

Unbeknownst to the small American force, a German soldier on the hill above had seen Cpl. York and his skirmishers emerge from the tree line. He watched as they tried to capture his comrades in the glade below.

The soldier raised the alarm. Americans had infiltrated the rear. After a moment, a German lieutenant came to the soldier’s position, observed the Americans, saw the difficulty that they encountered, and noted that there were fewer than 20 in their band.

The lieutenant raced over to his commander, an experienced Prussian major. He explained the situation. The major directed 80 German riflemen and machine gunners to turn around, face the rear, and fire into the Americans. The German commander perceived that the biggest threat from the Americans was now to his rear. He brought the bulk of his firepower to bear on Sgt. Early’s modest force.

The major didn’t have the luxury to forget about the Americans to his front. He left 50 other soldiers in their original positions to continue to deal with them. He felt a reinforced platoon would be adequate for the time being, since the American frontal attack had stalled.

The German commander knew he was in a tight spot, but in the last few weeks he’d done well against these American newcomers. The Prussian was a professional soldier from a very long line of distinguished military men.

The Prussian was not impressed with these Yanks. He was surprised that they’d found the initiative to infiltrate his rear. He’d deal with them quickly and brutally, and then return to his primary duty of repelling the attack of this so-called All-American Division.

After he’d reconfigured his force, the major gave the signal with a wave of his hand and the Germans focused a large volume of fire at the Americans in the glade. In the first few seconds the German assault killed or wounded seven of the Americans. It was the slaughter that Early had feared.

Since the Americans were interspersed among their prisoners, the German gunners were unable to discriminate. In their zeal to attack the Americans, they killed and wounded many of their comrades. One German machine gunner framed Sgt. Early directly in his sights. With skill honed by years of experience, the German riddled Sgt. Early with more than six direct hits.

Genero and Davis were only ten feet from the tree line when the shooting began. They hit the ground and crawled back among the trees for cover. As soon as they found fighting positions, they returned fire on the hill. Two bolt-action Springfields against the powerful German weaponry proved to be grotesquely inadequate.

Genero almost panicked as unimaginable horror and peril unfolded before him. Fighting to maintain control, Phillip understood that he’d never get back to Pennsylvania and his beloved Marta. For the next few seconds, he bid goodbye to his wife.

He prayed that she would find happiness with someone who would love and care for the new baby. Reloading his Springfield with a stripper clip from his belt, he consoled himself with the thought that his family in Hagerstown would help raise the child.

Neither Genero nor Davis ever considered crawling away in the woods to save themselves. They were scared, but they would never leave their buddies—who were bleeding and dying in that awful glade. They would stay and fight as long as they had a breath in their bodies.

At the bleakest point in the battle, Genero saw Cpl. York 35 yards away, moving like a man possessed. He crawled, ran, and dodged through the bodies of the dead soldiers, broken equipment, fallen trees, and other impediments. He was tracking to the far right, toward the Germans on the hill.

At this point, only Genero and Davis could fire at the Germans. The Boche could not see the two Americans because the Yanks had found adequate cover in the tree line. Since the American ammunition incorporated a smokeless powder and the din of the battle was overwhelming, the act of shooting in broad daylight did not give them away.

York scrambled to the American right and into the enemy’s sight. The Huns focused a tremendous amount of fire on him, but nothing could to stop him. Although Genero saw bullets impacting by the scores, even hundreds, all around the Tennessean, none found him. He remained unscathed.

God must surely love that man, Genero surmised, as York continued to struggle around to the right. Might be something to his preaching.

Eventually, York moved so far to the right that Genero couldn’t see him. It was a difficult angle and Genero tried to get off shots at the Germans on the hill.

Genero was a good marksman, though not in York’s class. He should have been hitting some of the Germans up on the hill. In the smoke and haze, he couldn’t make out individuals, nor could he see where his bullets impacted.

In no time at all, Genero had used up eight stripper clips of ammunition. He would run out of bullets in a few moments if he tried to keep up this volume of fire.

Genero called over to Davis, who’d crawled to a position in the tree line, eight yards to his left. Genero asked how he was doing for ammunition. Davis thought that he had over 70 rounds left. Davis rolled over on his back, so he could check the ammunition pouches on the front of his web gear.

One of the German gunners on the hill spotted Davis moving in the tree line. The enemy soldier sighted in his Maxim machine gun on the spot where Davis thought he was concealed. The German gunner couldn’t make out what the movement was, but he wouldn’t leave anything to chance.

A second later, the Hun let loose a long burst, more than 40 rounds, on the suspicious spot. Satisfied, he swept the whole tree line with the balance of the belt. He sprayed bullets for 20 yards in both directions.

Without knowing it, the German hit Davis twice, once in the right shoulder and once in the left arm. The arm wound was minor, but the shoulder wound was serious. Davis lost consciousness.

The German also hit Genero three times. All three shots struck Genero in the left leg. One bullet passed through his thigh, another took a big chunk of flesh from his calf, but the last one hit right above the ankle, breaking both his tibia and fibula.

Since Genero was prone, he bounced hard, from the shock of the impacts. He remained still to assess his wound. He didn’t want to draw more fire from the Germans on the hill. He felt shock and nausea. Despite his best efforts at control, he vomited.

The wounds hurt. Phillip bled profusely. He worried that he might lose too much blood. He struggled to remain calm.

The nausea passed, but not the pain. Phillip gathered himself, made a decision, and disregarded his wounds. He crawled along the tree line, to a spot with more cover.

Phillip cut a long piece of cloth from his blouse with his trench knife. He tied it above the thigh wound. He removed the metal cleaning rod from the chamber in the stock of his Springfield and slid it between the cloth on his leg and his uniform.

Once the rod was in place, using it as a lever, he twisted it three times to tie off the blood flow. His leg throbbed dreadfully, but the tourniquet slowed the bleeding.

Now in a better tactical position, Phillip turned his rifle over to examine it. He pulled back the bolt. The chamber was empty. He reached into one of the pouches on his belt and secured another stripper clip of five rounds.

His hands shaking, he fit a clip into the slot, stripping the bullets into the fixed magazine of his rifle. Phillip threw the bolt forward sending a round into the chamber.

“Just one of you sons-of-bitches, show yourselves, you Hun bastards,” Genero said in an icy calm tone, through tightly clenched teeth, a small tear of frustration rolling down his dirty, blood-stained face.

Genero knew that he’d never leave this battlefield alive, but he wanted back in the fight so he could help his boys. The fear began to fade and knowing that he could not survive the battle, a spiritual calm enveloped him.

He brought his rifle up, rested the front of the barrel on a small flat rock. He looked through his metal sights at the German positions on the hill. He marked a possible target, brought the sights to bear, held his breath, and slowly began to squeeze the trigger in the way that Alvin had taught him many months before at Camp Gordon.

Despite the fire from the Germans, York had worked his way to the right of the glade. He found additional cover and concealment so he could begin ascending the hill.

As York moved toward the Germans, he stood astride the Huns’ defensive trenches. From the corporal’s perspective, the German positions stretched out in front and above him in a long, narrow line.

York had the angle on the enemy. He saw the top left profile of two German helmets. The helmets belonged to a soldier and an unteroffizer manning one of the Maxim machine guns firing into Early’s men.

Cpl. York brought his own Springfield up to his right shoulder. As with all natural marksmen, he held his breath.

Focusing on the front sight, Alvin squeezed off a round. The first shot passed through the left side of the head of the German soldier. York chambered a second round. He immediately fired at the unteroffizer—a headshot, dead center, left side.

The two Huns slumped in death in rapid succession, almost simultaneously. As the dead men fell away from the machine gun, they exposed another Boche. York immediately killed him with another headshot.

With five shots from his first clip, York killed four German soldiers and one non-commissioned officer. York reloaded, and continued up the hill. Crouching low, he entered the trench near the bodies of the men he’d killed.

Stepping cautiously over the body of one of the non-commissioned officers, York un-holstered his own Colt .45 automatic pistol. York checked again to ensure that it was loaded. He stowed the pistol in the left side of his web belt as insurance, if he got into a close-quarters scrap.

At a slight bend of the trench, York saw more Germans manning machine guns and firing rifles down into the glade. Cpl. York began again. Using the same tactic, he coldly and calmly shot and killed several more Germans. He continued, reloading and firing.

The Germans on the hill realized that some number of Americans had flanked their trench line. At least one of the Yanks was a hell of a shot. Whenever one of the soldaten raised his head, a sniper’s well-placed bullet killed him.

The Prussian major beckoned a veteran sergeant. He ordered him to take five of the terrified men around through the back of the trench system to see if they could flush the sniper.