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John Dawson
2nd Regiment, 1st
Special Service Force
Arriving in Italy in late November, the 1st
Special Service Force was given the formidable task of assaulting the
heart of the Winter Line: the twin peaks of Monte La Difensa and Monte
Rementanea. On the night of December 2, 600 men from the force’s 2nd
Regiment. proceeded to scale the northwest side of Difensa. Starting at
roughly the 2,000-foot level was a 70-degree cliff. The Germans
considered the north side of the mountain impassable, especially for a
night attack, so they left it largely undefended. Using their bare hands
and ropes, the North Americans climbed and groped their way up the
treacherous slope. Once on top, they overwhelmed the stunned German
defenders in a brisk firefight. A few days later, the force crossed a
saddle-back ridge, capturing the second peak, Monte Rementanea. The
force's capture of the twin peaks cracked the Winter Line, opening the
way for an Allied advance toward the final German defenses in the area
and another belt of fortifications known as the Gustav Line, anchored by
the famed monastery Monte Cassino. John Dawson describes the attack in
his e-history.
Major General Geoffrey
Keyes, commanding II Corps, addressed us before the attack. We had quite
a cocky reputation and he wanted to trim us down to size. He warned us
that war wasn't all Hollywood glamour, and that there was a terrible and
negative aspect to war. "Who the hell ever thought otherwise?"
was the reaction of the men around me. That thought was with me all
through the battle. I had never had illusions, but this challenge came
on top of any other uneasiness about how I'd measure up. That was my
overriding concern, to keep abreast of the rest of the guys.
The trucks let us off near an artillery battery, and they let go a salvo
of artillery about that time. That rubbed the nerves a little. Then from
there we had about a two-hour walk over to the lower end of the trail -
good, sticky, Italian mud. I was a machine gunner, and was dripping with
weapons and ammo - a good 90 pounds.
The lower end of the trail was largely through scrub
thicket-type growth that had three battles' worth of communications
wire. The thicket caught anything the branches missed. Rifle, machine
gun and parts (.30 caliber) all got caught. To top it off, we were the
last company of 2nd Battalion to start. You know that on even
a road march, with all the straggling and catching up, the tail-enders
practically have to run to keep up. And we had to make it to the
jump-off point before daybreak. I made it; we all made it. Just before
sunrise the last of us were in a sheltered area.
The daylight rest did a lot for us, and we were
ready for our turn to continue up the slopes. Less mud, no brush, but a
lot steeper incline. We then reached the base of the cliffs and began
climbing the ropes. The first men of 1st Battalion had done
it without ropes, but all of them were a lot lighter loaded than the 2nd
Battalion. Between the ropes and an occasional ledge, we finally made it
up the cliffs, just as the chatter of small arms fire began.
There had been no time to be scared. Every smidgen of
energy had to be used to overcome the physical challenges. Fatigue, too,
seemed to disappear. Once on top, the word came (moments later) for
"Reinforcements on the double!" It seems we raced across the
saucer (it was fairly flat atop Difensa). I recall a few bodies (German)
that we passed. Upper Difensa seemed to be solid rock with boulders and
pebbles scattered over them and hardly enough dirt to grow a bush. We
still couldn't see very far down the slope, but somehow we got located
and partially sheltered ourselves with sort of a rock nest not
resembling the traditional fox hole, hoping we'd be able to shoot low
enough to clear jutting rocks.
Fortunately, there was no counterattack, but the Germans pounded us with
everything from mortars to heavy artillery. There was a sprinkling of
casualties, including some 2nd Regiment men, but none close
to me. I lost a close friend and section sergeant, Al Neil, that first
night. He had gone out to check the outpost, missed it in the fog, and
stumbled into the wrong foxhole on the way back. Startled, the men in
the foxhole fired, giving him a gut wound that finished him about three
months later in a North African hospital. It devastated the men who
fired. Their nerves were shot, and they were ridden with guilt feelings
until their dying days, years later. After the incident, they were kept
on in Battalion and Regimental Headquarters and functioned well, but
never again were put up into combat.
I was a machine gunner and we had our day when 5th
Company assaulted a couple of high spots that we called the
"pimples." We were to give covering fire, all six light
machine guns. It was my first hostile firing. We peppered the area. My
gun barrel turned red, then white. Up ahead, I saw a mortar shell land
and explode; the next one cut the distance in half. I yelled
"roll!" and we were clear when the third shell obliterated our
machine gun. It was scrap iron. Our number two ammo carrier got a sliver
in his eye; I imagine he lost it, but escaped the rest of the war. We
never saw him again.
We were up there seven days (I believe) with casualties
ranging from small arms patrol exchanges to (mostly) artillery, exposure
and trench foot cases. I know that 6-2 [6th Battalion 2nd
Regiment] had at least seven fatalities; two machine gun crews less
lucky than ours plus the others I mentioned. I'm not sure of our total
casualties, but there was plenty of space on those trucks going back to
Santa Maria.
Difensa was mostly a race within myself. I wanted to keep up with the
other guys; I did.
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