Hot Summers were always a challenge for Berlin Brigade troops, especially when they had to carry all their
heavy gear all day long, hills up and down. Not much fun! I suppose none of them have forgotten the two
Havelberg hills at the end of Fischerhuettenweg. I can not remember how many days of each year the GIs
spent in that particular Grunewald area. Dust, sweat, dirt, and thirst all day long were the "practice
partners" in those times. What a hard job!
Many of our Berlin winters were equally difficult for the American soldiers. Often, early in the morning,
big trucks brought them out in the Grunewald. Everybody could see the freezing GIs sitting or standing in
the rear of the sometimes open army vehicles. The cold wind was biting their faces; another long practice
day, maybe also a night was ahead. The rustic truck tires were sometimes equipped with snow chains, the
metal "click clack" noise on the street pavement was audible over some distance. Other troops had to march
from McNair or Andrews Barracks, all the way down into the Grunewald. Five miles or more with all their
heavy gear, like machine guns, tripods, anti tank weapons, rifles, radios, ammo cans, etc. But this was only
the beginning. Next they had to prepare combat emplacements, not easy in all that snow. The soil was frozen;
hard work to dig foxholes which was very often what they had to do first. The good side of that sweaty job
was perhaps that they got to warm up a bit. But this did not last long. Soon there came hours of laying down
on the icy ground. Even a poncho put down on the snow could not stop the constant cold. Endless waiting
without any moving for some military actions was especially hard in that unfriendly winter season. The only
highlight was the hot chow at noon time which sometimes was brought out to the troops by kitchen trucks.
A warm meal and some hot coffee helped a bit against the biting cold. Sometimes the GIs wore white snow
shirts pulled over their uniforms. That was an unusual look compared to their normal subdued green color.
Funny for us children - suddenly there were fighting "snow men" everywhere!
When I hiked into the Grunewald, I could easily follow the huge truck tire tracks to find some troops.
The practicing soldiers also left behind another good visible sign to find them, the foot prints of their
giant rubber "Mickey Mouse" boots. What a size! I can not count all the hours I spent following the never
ending boot print lines to find the unit somewhere ahead. Sometimes it seemed that the soldiers had walked
in a circle, but usually I found them or the location of their recent "combat". Whenever I discovered such
place it always looked totally messed up. The untouched snow cover was churned up by countless boot prints
and spots where the snow was scratched off. Right there, but also in many other places, brass and other
evidence of a mock battle would be visible. The hot shells often melted the snow all the way down to the
soil. There they were quickly frozen into icy lumps which were almost invisible. Only some of the black
metal links of the belted machine gun ammo were easy to recognize on top of the snow. Sometimes there were
lots of small craters in the snow, about 3 feet wide, caused by exploded simulators. Paper fragments from
the grenade simulators decorated the snow everywhere. The edges of the snow craters were totally blackened
by grenade powder. Other spots in the snow showed various colors. Large green, red, yellow, violet or black
stains were caused by burned out smoke grenades, which also melted the snow all the way down to the ground.
After freezing, the empty metal grenades were also held by ice or snow lumps.
The Berlin Brigade carried on with their practices as usual throughout this season, but I could hardly find
anything. Most of the expended shells left behind only small dashes in the snow and then disappeared. I
could search for a long time, but the yield was was poor despite almost frostbitten fingers. I can still
remember my Grandma complaining when, in the evenings, she would sort through and dry off what she called
he "ice & metal salad", as the paper bags would have ripped after getting wet. There were always
especially large quantities of brass to be found after it was, for us kids, a rather long forced break from
collecting. This forced break as called "winter", and this had to do with a rather thick covering of snow.
All of this suddenly changed when a thaw began. Then in some places the brass had formed shining carpets on
the Grunewald soil and could be picked up quickly. Of course you had to have enough time on your hands and
be quick as a flash. Other lost items that had been hidden by deep snow were suddenly visible now. These
included countless magazines and gloves but also ponchos, ammo pouches, shovels, pile caps, steel pots,
bayonets & other military gear. In wintertime the GIs lost all kinds of equipment. Falling in snow, it
disappeared quickly. Whenever I found something, I gave it back to the units. This always gave me a good
advantage when I tried to get my hands on empty brass or rations. The soldiers trusted me. They knew I
would never take their lost property away. Many of them knew me by name, because they have seen or met me
so often.
Should school happen to stand in the way of such unique opportunities, I would miraculously develop a
headache in the morning, and then later on I was allowed to go out into the fresh Grunewald air to help it
clear. After only a few days, sometimes even hours, everything had been picked up. Thanks to my bicycle,
possibilities now opened themselves up for me that I had never been able to realize due to a simple lack
of time. The majority of the firing training took place at dawn, early in the morning or in the early
evening. I didn't usually see much of these practice activities and couldn't pick up that much.
I had lots of funny experiences in wintertime, but also a few bad ones. A few times, after I'd followed the
giant "Mickey Mouse" boot prints in the deep snow to find the troops, I'd accidently trip over carelessly
left behind booby trap wires. It always was a loud surprise when suddenly, big bangs or sharp whistling
occurred right next to me. Boy, I suppose old people would have had a heart attack! Sometimes it took awhile
to get rid of the almost invisible trip wires which had caught my legs or boots. Carefully I always tried
to rescue some intact booby traps for private purposes or my New Years Eve fireworks. Often the GIs also
left behind the empty cartons, so it was not very difficult to get some live booby traps off of the trees
and back in their wrappers. If I saw them before tripping them, it was easy to disconnect the trip wire
from the white "pull-out" string fuse.
Before I continue, I'd like to go back again to the beginning. How did is all start? I do recall very well,
the first time when, in wintertime, I got in touch with a small American unit. It must have been in the
mid-1950s, not long after the new year. I was about seven years old, and as I had done previously, I went
right after school with my old wooden sled to our toboggan run to meet my playmates. This popular run, also
loved by American kids, because the "BB" housing area "Am Hegewinkel" was nearby, was located about 300
yards away from my home, right next to Onkel-Tom-Strasse. This also was the edge of the Grunewald. The
toboggan run was almost 500 yards long and often very icy at the top. So we younger kids preferred some
smaller hills at the far end of the big run. These hills, "baby hills" as we called them, were not so
dangerous and also gave lots of slide fun. One day while sledding, we heard loud shots, fired by American
soldiers not far away from us. I was familiar with firing noises but never before that close. Between lots
of single rifle shots we could hear loud male voices. Approximately 200 yards away from us, on the opposite
of a small frozen canal which connects three popular Grunewald lakes, an U.S. Army winter training exercise
was underway. Wow! The loud shots scared me, but on the other hand they were also like a magnet. I had to
watch it, it was such an huge adventure for me and my playmates. We could observe about twenty GIs who
stormed a small hill opposite of us. Several times soldiers accidently fell on the icy ground and rolled
downhill. This seemed very funny to us boys. Some of the attackers fired single shots; we could see the
muzzle flashes. Some of the soldiers from the opposing unit answered with lots of snowballs. At the end
everybody was throwing snowballs at each other. What a big jolly fighting game! I laughed a lot that day,
and my fear quickly disappeared. Two of my friends and I ran over the small wooden canal bridge and got
right next to the now resting soldiers. There were many "Hellos" and smiles. I was really disappointed when,
a few minutes later, a big truck arrived and all GIs were picked up. They waved back at us, and I was angry
that my fear had caused me to waste my time watching from a distance beyond that small canal. After the
soldiers were gone we thoroughly searched the practice area for left behind ammo or military souvenirs,
without success. The snow there was messed up by foot prints and we could not find one damn cartridge. All
of them had disappeared under the 1 foot deep snow cover. What a pity, what for an disappointment! But from
that time, countless other adventures with GIs followed.
The next experiences I would like to narrate happened in the early 1960 years. Probably it was in 1962,
because the American troops had just gotten new weapons to replace their old WWII equipment. I'd missed
the big M1 Garand rifles with the 8 rounds clips, and also the bulky .30 cal Browning machine guns, but that
time suddenly was over.
One day I experienced a very serious accident. For more than 2 hours I had been to the rear of an ambush
line, shivering with cold, awaiting the attack of the so-called "good guys". The few enemy "aggressors",
hidden behind piled-up snow, were also freezing. The warming campfire had been put out some time before in
order to not give away their frosty ambush emplacements. I watched the open wooden area in front of me, but
without success. Suddenly on my right hand side, the "aggressor" machine gun started firing long bursts.
Wow, the Sixty was working well! This did not happen very often in the cold season. Most of time the new
M60 guns jammed, what resulted single shots firing only. Next to the machinegun I'd seen several empty ammo
carton/cloth bandoleers and about 400 rounds of blanks linked together to an endless ammo belt. In a good
mood, I awaited the end of the battle under the cover of a thick oak tree. I could see how all of the white
dressed soldiers stormed the enemy line from its right flank. Thanks their perfect winter camouflage, nobody
but me had seen them coming. At the last moment, two or three "aggressors" jumped right into my hiding place,
firing like hell and expending all 20-rounds clips from their new M14 automatic rifles. But it was too late
to stop the attackers. About twenty of the "good guys" were already too close. At that moment I heard a
sharp whistling, and then the well known command to "cease fire". The wild firing abruptly stopped and the
"enemy" emplacements were deemed overrun. But now I could see big smiles on lots of their faces. The
practice in the snow finally was over, and it seemed that the time to return to the warm barracks was very
close. OK with me, as I also was freezing, and there were lots of empty rounds were waiting for me to pick
up. What luck! None of my competitors were in sight.
But then, just as I was about to get to work, an unexpected and serious accident happened right next to me.
An "enemy" soldier sat smiling and joking in the snow, with his still smoking M14 rifle on his lap. Next to
him, in the snow, lay several empty 20 rounds clips and lots of expended brass. His gloved finger was still
resting on the trigger, when another soldier suddenly grabbed the rifle and pulled it straight up. He had
not realized that the sitting soldier's finger, hidden by the black glove, was still on the trigger. The
weapon was not on "safe" - a bad mistake! The muzzle at the end of the long red blank adapter was less than
3 feet away from the standing soldier's face when suddenly the M14 fired a fast burst of at least 10 blank
rounds. I saw the fire flash from the top of the blank adapter and heard the terrible scream of that poor
soldier! His dark skin seemed to be gone, and his face suddenly looked pink. I will never forget this
horrible sight. I do not know what might have happened to his eyes. Fortunately, a jeep had just arrived.
Some comrades carried the injured GI to the vehicle and the jeep sped quickly away. All of the soldiers
looked shocked. After a short briefing the unit left the place. There was no more smiling; serious faces
only! I waited until they all were gone before I started picking up all of the brass. But I do remember very
well that all my fun I had up to that point was gone after that bad accident. I had never before realized
that blank ammo could be so dangerous.
Another incident was serious, but also funny. One day I was again in the woods on the way to find troops,
when suddenly I heard the sound of "Martin Horn" sirens right behind me. Three vehicles with blue lights,
fire brigade and police, passed me in hurry and stopped a few hundred yards ahead, right next to the beach
at the Krumme Lanke. I quickly saw why the emergency vehicles had been called, and I could not believe it!
The lake had been frozen for two or three weeks, and the ice was covered by snow. About 20 yards from of
the beach, a gun jeep was stuck in the ice. Both front tires had broken through the ice, and water was
visible around the vehicle. Perhaps some ice fishermen had left behind holes in the ice, which were then
covered by snow? It was fortunate that it had not happened further out on the lake, as then perhaps the
entire jeep might have disappeared under the ice, which never gets thick enough to carry heavy vehicles.
The Krumme Lanke is at some places about 20 yards deep and very soft bottomed. Had they fallen under the
ice, the GIs would probably have had no chance to survive. I do not know what the jeep crew expected when
they carelessly drove such an heavy vehicle on that frozen Grunewald lake. At no time before or after had I
seen motor vehicles on frozen Berlin lakes! However, thank God, nobody got hurt. Eyewitnesses said that
when the jeep cracked through the ice, the crew had quickly jumped out. Once clear of the jeep, the GIs
were afraid to go back too closely to the jeep, and so they could not use their radio equipment to call
for help. Some German ice skaters had seen the crazy incident, and called the fire brigade. In those years
nobody owned cell phones, but fortunately the water works building was nearby, and a telephone was found
inside. The men of fire brigade and the police could not get out the jeep out of its icy trap. After an
hour, a big army recovery truck appeared, along with several other jeeps with high ranking officers.
Carefully the recovery truck drove down to the edge of the frozen lake. With a long, strong metal rope
and a winch, the jeep was finally pulled back on land again. No damage was visible. I'm sure this was a
good lesson for the jokers, but I'm sure they probably managed to get into some other sort of trouble
later on. These are just a few of my experiences from the wintertime in our Grunewald.
Night attack