Northwest Europe in November and December of 1944 was a miserable place. A mixture of sleet, snow, rain, cold, fog, sure days and long nights cried out for winter camp, for shelter, and indoor occupations. Rivers were at flood stage. The already poor roads were turned into quagmires by military vehicles; veterans speak of the mud was knee-deep and insist that it is true.[1]

South of the Ardennes, the U.S. Third Army was on the offensive, the weather be damned. There was no strategy involved.

The rain and mud made rapid movement impossible and there was insufficient gasoline to supply deep thrusts into the enemy rear.

Once the generals made the decision to continue the offensive, the war in the fall of 1944 became once again what it had been in the hedgerows of Normandy, a junior officer and NCO battle of attrition.[1]

Throughout the period of 1 to 13 December the 30^th Infantry Regiment, to which Phil was returning, maintained anti-parachute patrols on a 24-hour basis in the entire 3rd Division rear area to the west of Strasbourg on the Rhine River.

In the meantime, too, all companies engaged in a thorough training schedule which covered many subjects, but heavily emphasized the reduction of pillboxes and fortified houses in the expectation and hope that the next offensive would be against the German Siegfried Line.

If the men of the 30th could have looked into the future they would have known the soul-trying Colmar Campaign was to precede their attack against the Westwall.[2]

It would be, for Phil and his men, a frozen hell hole.

~~~~~ 

[1]Ambrose, Citizen Soldiers, 157.

[2] Prohme, 286.

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