Dec 21 , 1944

[Kopfdorfer]

It seemed like no matter how many miles they drove , whenever they stopped , there were the sounds of tank engines off somewhere in the mist , out of sight , definitely not out of mind. German tank engines.
When the Germans came over to the attack first, on the 16th of December , there was no snow , just thick smothering mist. Since then there had been several snowfalls. Not a lot , but enough to accumulate and make walking off road exhausting. It wasn't too cold, and that had caused some snow to melt , and more mist. The entire Ardennes was like the setting for a ghost story.
The Ghost Front. Now there were Germans again , and it was a battle front. But no one knew the whereabouts of the Battalion CP , let alone the Regiment, and who knew where the Hell General Jones was.
What was left of the I and R platoon , K Company , 424th Infantry Regt , 106th Golden Lions Division was 15 guys. The CO was a Second Louie from Cleveland , straight out of Fort Benning. There was no mortar , no HMG , one Bazooka , one Browning M1919 rifle calibre MG , and personal weapons. It felt like the men had been jogging for five straight days , through snow , then mud , then snow again ,when the German armored car had forced them off the road...trail into the woods. It also seemed like they had been going uphill continuously, at least after they had got off the Schnee Eifel. There had been Germans everywhere ; there was a good chance not too many guys had got away at all. As they trudged uphill in the failing light of Dec 21st , the gloom lifted a bit , and they were out from under the sodden canopy of snow covered pines. The open wasn't too much brighter , but there was enough light to see they were on a road following a line of single tall pine trees to a lonely intersection with only about four small buildings. Thin tendrils of mist shifted slowly aside as they walked up to thel intersection.
They coulde just make out the low ( dug-in) silhouettes of three M2A1 105s, when a voice hollered out of the gloom "Halt!"
The Second Louie from Cleveland ran up "It's okay, it's okay we're Americans!".
A voice from the dark was heard, "What do you think Major , should we let 'em through ?"
A tall figure emerged from the gloom , and two others lurked one on either side. They were not as tall , but where the first figure was welcoming and relaxed in movement, the others were tense , and armed , and fingers were on their triggers , one M-3 Grease Gun , and one BAR.
"Yes, Sergeant Whitworth , let them through ; we need every rifle we can get. That prisoner just told us that 2nd SS is only a few miles away. I expect they'll be visiting tomorrow."
The tall figure extended a hand to the skinny LT , "My names Parker, commanding what's left of the 589th Field Artillery Battalion...Welcome to Baraque du Fraiture!"
"You mean Parker's Crossroads, Sir!" The Grease Gun piped up.
"Shut up , Wilks" interjected the BAR.
"It's alright Sergeant" Parker mollified the affronted Grease Gun , "I kind of like it. Parker's Crosroads."