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![]() It might be, perhaps, more historically desirable to say that this squad of men now moving to its next engagement sat grimly and stoically in two ranks, silently facing each other on those steel seats in the open half-track, blessedly, this is blatantly untrue. The experience of life in the half-track, while traveling from one sector of the front to another, was an experience of a life with a quality all of its own. The number 23 meant that we were the 2nd Platoon, 3rd Rifle Squad. The significance of that name always defied me, except that it began with the letter D representing Dog Company. Our half-track was D-23 with the name Dracula painted on its side. When orders did come to move out, everyone mounted up and our half-track crept slowly onto the roadway and fell into its assigned position in the Company order of march. The state of not knowing seemed to be the unchallenged domain of the ordinary Infantryman. It seemed as though we never really knew precisely where we had been, or indeed, where we were at that moment, and certainly not where we were heading. The column of half-tracks moved to a new location where the vehicles coiled, regrouped, and waited for the orders to move to our next engagement. We were Company D, 2nd Battalion, the 36th Armored Infantry Regiment, of the 3rd Armored Division. We left the La Gleize area after having participated with the 30th Division in a blocking action to contain the German Panzer column that was trying to break out to the North. Personal Reminiscences and the Retaking of Grandmenil ![]()
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