The next barrage of mortars stopped those thoughts as some of the shells landed a few feet from the edge of my foxhole. Shell after shell came in and I knew that the next one was coming right into my hole. That feeling, a mixture of horror, fear, and terror will never be forgotten. Every front-line infantryman knows what it is.
On the fourth day, Cofer came along to my hole and told me that he wanted a recon patrol beyond our hedgerow to see what was happening in the next field. It was broad daylight, and there was no cover in the field—only long grass about two feet high. I decided to go myself and picked one man to go with me. He was an "old timer" meaning he had been in the 3rd Armored in the States. Leo Deering was a southerner, a friendly guy with a big smile. We nicknamed him "Chowhound." I told him what we had to do and said that we would run as fast as we could since there were no bushes or trees to conceal us. With just rifles and belt with a canteen, we crawled over the hedgerow side and got into the field—then we started to run across.
Halfway across the field, a German machine gun opened up. The bullets snapped and cracked all around us, and we both went to the ground. The gun kept firing in short bursts. I shouted to Chowhound, but didn't get an answer. I kept yelling for him, but stopped when I heard a snoring, rattling sound. I couldn't see him in the tall grass, but I knew he must have been hit. After a few more bursts, the German machine gun stopped and I shouted back to our lines "I'm coming back." Jumping up and running for our hedgerow, I hit it at full speed and tumbled over. That was the end of our recon patrol. Later that night, Sgt. Cofer crawled out into the field and retrieved Leo's canteen and ammunition. Leo had been hit in the head and died quickly.
I left the Division at the end of the Bulge and ended up in a hospital in England. From there I was assigned to the M.P.'s in Normandy. One day in Normandy I went to the military cemetery near Omaha Beach where I took a picture of Leo's grave and also Bob Nelson's. At that time, April of 1945, the crosses were made of wood, but later they were replaced with crosses of white marble. The names and serial numbers were stenciled on the cross in black paint and luckily I still had the picture of Leo's grave when, two years ago Charlie Corbin sent me an inquiry that had come in to his 3rd Armored website. It was from a family looking for information on their grandfather.

 

The E-mail read:
Hello Charles,
I was extremely happy to come across your wonderful web page today, and I thank you for sharing the reports and interviews with the public. My grandfather was killed in France during the war , but there seems to be some confusion about his unit. His name was Leo Everett (E) Deering enlisted out of MO and when he died, personal effects arrived at his wife's home, but they belonged to someone else named Deering.
…with your expertise we were wondering if there is a way that you can confirm if there was actually 2 L E Deerings from MO assigned at the same time, to the same unit?
Signed Marcus Leo Hedrick

I contacted them by E-mail and told them about Leo's death. We dug Into the records and sure enough, there were two Deerings, Leo E. Deering, and Lee E. Deering, both killed on August 10 and both from Missouri. The Army had mixed up their personal effects, sending Lee's wallet and pictures to Leo's family. For years the families wondered what had happened. Through the National Archives, we were able to get the right information and send it to the Deering relations. Leo (Chowhound) Deering was brought back by his family and buried in Missouri, but his wallet and family pictures were sent to Lee E. Deering's family, and Lee's family got Leo's personal effects. I made inquiries but nobody remembered Lee Deering. He was a 19 year-old replacement who joined our E Co. and was killed before anyone knew he was there.



This happened many times. It also happened to my friend, Bob Nelson. He had joined F Co., had moved forward with them, dug his foxhole that night before he went to sleep, and the tree burst got him before anyone really got to know him. He was just a name in a little black book.  Mortain faded as we ran north to meet the British to help close the Falaise Gap. This time we were in our half-track "E 12" doing our work in an armored column. We roared along the French roads, went through little villages, and met some resistance. That was easily overcome with our firepower. We finally saw the British search lights in the night sky ahead. They used anti-aircraft searchlights bounced off low clouds to illuminate their battlefield. When we met the English, the offensive the Germans had started at Mortain was finally finished and wrapped up.

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