We Were There: Emmeline's Story

Falling Back

Just as I jumped into the ditch, Webster grabbed my wrist and pulled me down beside him. "There's so many of them!" he gasped, mouth agape, "There's about fifty of them out there! More than we've ever seen at one time!" I nodded, wide-eyed as the sounds of tank blasts boomed on the road above our heads. The blasts forced me to shrink further into the ditch, my heart racing with adrenaline.

"Get out of the ditch! They're shooting stationary targets! Move! Move!" Randleman's voice pierced through the air.

The men cursed under their breath as they reluctantly followed the orders they were given. I started to crawl out from the ditch behind them as they sprinted across the long grassy fields towards the farmhouses on the outskirts of Nuenen.

When we reached the nearest farmhouse on the other side of the road, John Martin ordered us to stop while he brought the binoculars up to his face, peering further up the road. We huddled against each other, straining to see what he could obviously see waiting for us.

The familiar sounds of the Cromwell tanks clanking and creaking up the paved road caused us to turn our heads and watch their approach. Martin and Babe Heffron ran over to the lead tank to talk to the driver. After a brief exchange of words, Martin shook his head, motioning angrily at the driver as the tank continued to make its way forward.

Glancing back to the area where Martin scoped a moment before, I could barely make out the outline of a German tank, hidden within a large haystack, moving its gun to target the approaching Cromwell. My heart stopped, mouth parting on its own accord.

The enemy tank shot at the British tank, landing a direct hit, causing a massive fireball on the inside to explode, killing everyone inside instantly. The gunner, who had been standing half out of the tank at the time, screamed in agony, trying desperately to claw his way out. He collapsed to the ground next to the tank as it drove itself slowly down the lane. Without hesitating, I rushed over to the screaming gunner to look him over. His lower legs were missing, leaving scorched stumps of thighs behind, and the rest of him was severely burned. As his agonizing screams of pain continued, he clawed at my jacket, gripping it tightly.

"Fall back!" Randleman shouted at all of us.

My head snapped up upon hearing those orders. As the men ran away, another British tank nearby took a hit, knocking several people to the ground from the shrapnel blast. The gunner tugged me closer to him as he stared up at me, wide-eyed, and terrified. With pained sobs, he begged, "I don't want to die! I don't want to die!"

The smell of his burning flesh invaded my mouth and lungs as I stared down at him, feeling helpless. I forced myself to hold back the urge to throw up and cry. The gunner pulled my collar, holding me in place as he continued screaming in pain. I grabbed his wrists, prying his intense hold off of me. I glanced up and shouted to some men running away, "Hey! Give me a hand here!"

Two troopers knelt beside me. I ordered, "Get him out of here!" They picked up the burned, legless, and bleeding man and ran for our lines. Just as I started to stand to follow them, a blast exploded somewhere close behind me, propelling me forward a few feet to the ground. When I landed, all of the air in my lungs escaped my lips, the pain in my chest exploded, and I worried I had been hit.

I pushed myself to my knees and quickly looked myself over, patting down the front of me but I didn't see any wounds or blood. I took a couple of deep breaths to calm myself before I felt strong hands grab my jacket at the shoulders, dragging me to my feet. I scrambled to get my feet under me, glancing over to the man who had hold of me. With a look of determination, Buck Compton shouted at me, "We have to go!"

I nodded as he pushed me forward to run ahead of him. When we got to the open fields, I heard Compton cry out in pain. Sliding to a stop, I turned to see what happened, only to find Buck was no longer standing behind me. My gaze dropped to the ground where I saw him laying on his stomach in the long grass, cursing under his breath. Dropping to my knees beside him, I heard him muttering through gritted teeth to leave him behind. It wasn't long before Joe Toye, Bill Guarnere, and Donald Malarkey joined us, followed by Doc Roe and Heffron.

Compton muttered against his closed fist, "She always said my big ass would get in the way."

"Well, she's right about your big ass," Guarnere stated. Noticing my confused expression, Bill clarified, "His girl."

I nodded once before looking at Roe while he took over Compton's care. I asked, "What can I do to help?"

Roe shook his head before looking up at the men. "We have to get him out of here."

"We could try to carry him," Malarkey suggested.

Toye scoffed. "He's the size of two of us," he pointed out. "We'd be picked off for sure." 

Compton squeezed his eyes shut before ordering, "Take off. Let the Germans take care of me."

I glanced at the faces around me, hoping they weren't seriously considering listening to that ridiculous order. Guarnere shook his head. "Sorry, bub. Can't do that." Guarnere motioned for Toye and Malarkey to follow him. "He's a big guy, so we need some help to get him outta here!"

The gunfire and 88s from the Germans grew in frequency. I feared we would get killed if we stayed in the field we were in for much longer. Roe looked at me, brows drew together in deep concentration. "Go! We'll catch up!"

I swallowed, unsure if I should try for the lines alone or stay put and help. After a moment of hesitation, Heffron tugged on my shoulder. "I'll come with you! Come on!"

Just as we started to stand to make our run for it, Guarnere, Toye, and Malarkey returned with a barn door they ripped off the hinges. They lifted Compton, placing him on it, much to his constant complaining.

Heffron and I sprinted towards our line. As we ran, we watched as another Cromwell blew up from the enemy blasts, spraying hot shrapnel everywhere causing us to seek cover in a small ditch.

Heffron exhaled. "That's what? Four tanks already?"

I thought about it, mentally counting before nodding. "Yeah. Four out of the six we had with us."

Heffron shook his head in disbelief. "If only that idiot had listened to Martin and me."

"What does that mean?" I asked, brows drawing together, "What did you guys say to him?" 

Heffron explained, "Martin saw that first tank hidden back there," he motioned back to the general area, "He warned the guy, told him where to fire but the guy didn't want to do that - said something about destroying property."

Heffron motioned for me to follow him again. As we continued our sprint across the field, I couldn't help but wonder what the driver of that tank was thinking and if Heffron was right. Could all of this have been avoided if he had just listened to Martin?

When we reached the safety of our line, Heffron and I collapsed to our knees exhausted, gasping for air. "I don't think it would have mattered if they had listened to Martin, Babe," I recalled. "They had an entire unit here. Webster said there were at least fifty tanks...we had six."

Between breaths, he shrugged as he retorted, "I'm sure it could have helped our odds had he just blown up the damned building."

I realized it was pointless to try and reason with him. Everyone would have their own opinions on how this could have been better executed but I was just happy to see we escaped.

Malarkey, Toye, and Guarnere pulled the wounded Compton over to us with the aid of the barn door. They lifted him into the back of the trucks that came for us. Doc Roe climbed in behind him to continue working on his wounds.

Standing up from my place on the road, I walked over to the truck. Upon peering inside, I scanned the wounded but didn't see the tank gunner. Wondering if the man was in a different truck, I searched each one, but there was no sign of him or the men who carried him away for me.

Glancing about, I started to realize we were missing a lot of men. Panic seized me as I noticed some of those missing were Randleman and Webster, and a slew of our replacements. I watched as Lipton spoke to Winters about those missing. Winters's face faltered a little but the order to move out was given. We had no choice but to leave this quaint village - and those we lost - behind for now.