A Bite of Food, A Drink of Water

It was during one of the halts on this thirty-three mile march that I realized I was hungry. Most of us hadn't taken time to eat more than two or three meals in four days of combat and during the two days we had been in Jerry's hands we hadn't had any food, so most of us were hungry. We had stopped along the road for a rest when several Russian, forced laborers passed us. One little fellow had on about three ragged coats and the same number of ragged pants with rags around his feet. He learned we were American and he would put his hands in a hole and pull out an apple or two, then into another hole and another apple. I saw him do this several times and I wished he would "hold out" until he got to me. Surely enough, his hand went into the last hole and came out with three apples and one fell by me. I took it and turned to the medic beside me and asked if a black
apple would hurt a person. He did not give me too much satisfaction but I can tell you rotten apples won't hurt you—in fact it was good. As I finished, core, seeds and all, I thought, "I must be really hungry to eat something like that."

The water we had was snow that we caught up in our hands or the melting snow from off the farm yards that ran down the small ditches beside the road. The last few miles of the march was upgrade and when we arrived at Gerolstein at 9:00 P.M., we were tired.

The men were warmed from the march and it was cold. The wind was blowing and the sleet coming down was too much. About three dozen of the men just passed out. A soldier would close his eyes and drop. It had a bad effect on the rest so I twice walked the mile and a half line. Once trying to get them, to sing and then when they started to fall out, I tried to get them to stand in little groups and pack as close together as possible. We had tried it and it was warm in the center. About five o'clock in the morning we moved in between two buildings and it was better.