| The Battle of Jebsheim, France -from a French point-of-view. Page 13 |
| AT THE END OF RIEDWIHR STREET, HOUSE # 31, MR ERIC ENGEL, 74 YEARS OLD Before 27 January, it was the Allied artillery that fired on our neighborhood. The German transmitting station, located in the house at #23, Riedwihr Street, was the target, but the trajectories were for the most part too short. And many shells fell in the fields to the west of the village. The first Allied soldiers who arrived here were French with tanks and legionnaires, one of whom was from Cernay. There was also a Morrocan captain. The Germans were still in the Meyer sawmill, very close by, and the two sides kept shooting at each other. I was going to take refuge with my sister in George Herrmann's stable at #20 because it was more solid than our old house. There were still Germans over there. When the fighting got closer, the Germans left. But the situation changed every minute--there were advances and withdrawals--and when the Allies had to pull back again, the Germans returned to Herrmann's farm. Then George Herrmann would get angry and yell at them saying: "I fought in the war of 1914, but not like this!. There are thirteen of us civilians here--we are going to be massacred!" Finally the German officer said: " Very well, we will leave!". And indeed they went away. Slowly Riedwihr street is occupied once and for all- the French arrive and remain. They parked their tanks at the end of the street and go several times towards the upper village where the battle is raging, then return. But isolated German snipers manage to destroy two tanks, one of which was in front of Albert Rieg's house at #23. I also remember that before the French arrived, I had gone once again quickly to the hayloft to throw down some hay for the animals. Later a Frenchman told me: "You, I saw you with my binoculars, throwing down hay, and I could have shot you like a rabbit!" After 29 January many shells coming from the Rhine fell on and near our property. IN RIEDWIHR STREET, THE MEYER SAWMILL-FARM AT #29, MRS LISBETH FONDADOUZE-MEYER, 64 YEARS OLD. We had been sleeping for several days in our barn-cattleshed on the other side of the feeding troughs, where the food for the animals is prepared. There were seven of us in all: my father, my mother, the Ritter widow and her son, Marcel, Sigmund Selig and myself. My parents slept on a mattress while all the others slept on hay that my father changed every day. One evening--we knew that the French were not far away- the door opened and a German soldier entered. He was a tall fellow, about 40, very nervous. He said, "I want to stay here- the French arrive tonight- I can't take it any longer and want to be taken prisoner!" With that, he fell to the floor like a dead weight and went to sleep. Early in the morning--it must have been 27 January--he was still sleeping. Papa, looking out saw an Allied tank on the little bridge of the Saubach, 30 meters from our property and another in our garden, next to the bunker. This was it--the French had come! We waited very impatiently. Suddenly, soldiers camouflaged in white sheets knocked down the planks in the fence, next to the stable, that separated our place from the Durr farm. We woke up the German soldier who went out, hands in the air, in front of papa. But what a surprise we had. The men in white were Germans who, after having withdrawn were attacking now. One of them, an NCO, screamed:"Get back you" to the deserter who, surprised, quickly lowered his arms and disappeared through the opening in the wall. Papa who saw that things were about to take a violent turn, spoke to the officer. "What good will that do you? You can see that there are French soldiers everywhere! Do you want to destroy everything?" Then the German screamed "Get back in there and close the door. I am putting a guard in front of the door." Papa said "Take cover now!" We put covers, quilts, even mattresses over our heads and waited. The silence lasted a good while, then suddenly machine guns burst; there was a real uproar and a German soldier yelled out, "There's a fire over your heads". Then we go up and began to panic. Papa untied our horse, Hansi, opened the door and wanted to let the horse out, but it was impossible to get him through the door, as well as the cow. Outside, the German soldier, who had been guarding the door, lay covered with blood in the white snow. We quickly threw our blankets and quilts in the Durr's garden and got ready to pass through the hole in the wall. But Papa Said; "I am not going to let these animals to die. If we wet the walls and troughs, the frame and hay will burn, but the metal beam and transoms will stop the fire". But no one would stay with him. We went without him through the wall to our neighbor's Albert Durr. The Germans had carried their dead soldier into Durr's courtyard and were standing there, not very pleased with themselves. All six of us went to the Durr's, to their cellar. There were four steps to go down. We waited there, sitting on makeshift chairs. An old lady, known as "schumachera" from next door, was still with the Durr's Mr Durr, in spite of a bad leg, was always running about to see what was happening. He saw the Germans leave through the back, leaving their dead comrade in the yard. I was thinking of my father, all alone, in the burning stable. Suddenly, we heard Mr. Durr speaking French with some soldiers and immediately, the cellar door opened with a great bang, a soldier tumbled down the steps and fell, feet in the air on old lady "Schumachera" who practically asleep screamed "What is it, what is it?". The soldier went back up the steps and left, swearing. He had leaned against the door, which was not well shut, intending to ask Mr. Durr for something to drink. I went out in the courtyard and spoke to the three or four French solders who were there. "Have you seen my father? He was in the burning barn." "There was no one in that barn" "I want to see for myself. Come with me." " Okay, but you go first" Then Mr. Durr, who agreed to go first, took off, hobbling along with the soldiers behind him, machine guns ready and I after them. The barn had completely burned. The two doors of the stable, of which there remained only the walls, were shut. Mr Durr called out "Meyer, Meyer". Then the door opened and papa was there, black as a chimney sweep, but alive. The memory of that moment still makes me cry, it was so unhoped for. The horse and cow are safe also. The frame of the stable, with its tiles, had caved in and the beams, nearly burned up, were lying in the melted snow. Papa stepped over all that and came towards us. The soldiers, who had been so noisy, now were silent. We went back to Durr's cellar. Papa sat down next to mother and began crying like a baby. He told us later how, with a bucket and the water from a little hand pump in the stable, he had climbed up each time between the troughs and thrown water as far as he could to keep the flames from spreading down lower. Then, the pump had stopped working. Fortunately, he found a adjustable wrench to repair it. But during that time, the fire almost got out of control and was already burning near Papa's horse, Hansi, that he loved so. Happily, papa got there again in time to put our the fire and save the animals from certain death. Unfortunately, the next day, a German shell hit the stable or what was left of it, while my father was watering the horse. He had to resign himself to moving the animals. So here we were, moving again, this time to George Herrmann's farm, almost opposite from where we were. There, we joined about 40 other civilians who were lodged in the stable and cattle-shed. One day, a German shell exploded in the courtyard and the fragments, coming through the door where we were, seriously injured Yvonne, Mr. Herrmann's daughter. Later, American soldiers came and occupied our house. One of them stopped me in the street to show me a framed photograph that he had taken from the wall of my room and that he was carrying in his fatigue jacket as "a bullet shield". I hope the photograph brought him luck and that he got through the war without harm. Later there was an incredible amount of traffic in Riedwihr Street. It was because the Battle of Jebsheim was not over yet. All sorts of trucks, tanks, jeeps,etc came through day and night. The street looked as though it had been plowed and from time to time trucks loaded with all sorts of debris came and filled the ruts. Under the shed of our sawmill, the Americans had installed a garage and repair shop. They were nice to us and gave us canned beans, corned-beef, cigarettes and above all, some chocolate that we found extraordinary. But in the house where they were quartered, they were strange. They had to empty rooms and therefore as soon as they entered the room all the small furniture, trinkets, personal effects, everything was thrown out the windows. RIEDWIHR STREET, FARM #6--MRS EDGAR OBRECHT, WIDOW, 70 YEARS OLD There were twenty of us in the cellar, among others, the Jacques Boeschlin and Jugo Nussmaumer families, and five refugees from Ostheim. In the night of January 27-28 there were still about 30 German soldiers in the courtyard. At 2200 hours (10 PM) we locked the cellar for the night. Towards morning, there was a knock at the door. My husband went to open it. There were French soldiers there, legionnaires. They asked us if there were any German soldiers here. My husband told them that in the cellar we were all civilians, and that, doubtlessly, there was on one in the house. The legionnaires answered that their lieutenant had been killed coming into the courtyard, and therefore they had to find the person who had killed him. They went through all the rooms, my husband in front, they following carefully with their fingers on the triggers of their guns. In the house- nothing; in the courtyard- nothing. Nothing in the other buildings, the stable, the barn, still nothing. "If we don't find the sniper, we'll take you!".. We all moved towards the door. My husband began to fear for his life. Next to the door to the courtyard, there was a small washroom. My husband noticed that the door was slightly ajar. He pointed this out to the soldiers. "Usually that door is shut!". They went to see and , indeed, they found seven German soldiers. The legionnaires were getting ready to massacre them on the spot when a French officer arrived and interceded. "They are soldiers in uniform--you don't have the right to kill them. You have to take them as prisoners even if they killed your leader." The legionnaires calmed down a bit. But the Germans had a very narrow escape. We were liberated, but the shells continued to rain down for several more days on our farm and vicinity. While soldiers were quartered in our house- I believe it was the command post of the area--we were still living in the cellar, dirty, full of lice--some had not had a bath for six weeks- and fearing at every instant for our lives. You can imagine that we will never forget that painful time. |
