The Battle of Grand-Halleux
21, 22, 23 December 1944
My name is Marcel Jeanpierre.
I was thirteen years old when the following events took place in December of 1944 at Grand-Halleux, Belgium (near Vielsalm).
Since 18 December, we used to hear the sound of artillery and heavy weapons breaking out in the direction of Saint-Vith, Poteau (towards the East of the town of Grand-Halleux) and also in the direction of Stavelot (North). The intensity of fire was increasing as the days went by and the detachment of US Engineers was billetted at the "Cercle", premises located about 200 meters from our home, on the road leading to Wanne, had suddenly set off on Sunday 17 December 1944. We had heard from a soldier, Max Pervolsky, who used to spend his evenings with us, that the German Army was counter-attacking and already was in Saint-Vith.
So, worried and in quest of information as we were, on 21 December before noon, my dad and I had gone to the center of the village where we saw US Paratroopers arriving in trucks. For this village, it was Company "G", 3rd Battalion, 505th Parachute Regiment, 82nd Airborne Division.
It was very cold and the soldiers had lit wood fires in front of the town hall to keep warm. There I met a Hispano-American soldier who gave me some chocolate.
21 December 1944
In the afternoon of 21 December, we saw coming to our house (about 300 meters from the village center to the East) a Sergeant and a party of about ten men who went to set up an outpost facing the direction of Wanne.
During the evening they settled in the heated kitchen where we used to sleep on mattresses laid on the bare floor. All through the night, mamma made coffee given by the soldiers and dad discussed in German (learnt at school) with the officer of the outpost, Sergeant Willie Beaty; he was 24 and told us he had fought in Sicily, Italy, Normandy and Holland. Each time a patrol of three or four men was going out for rounds, we dimmed the oil lamp (there was no more electric current). We, that is to say, my father, my mother, my grandmother, my sister and I, did not sleep, kept awake by the curiosity and the move. At dawn, the US soldiers rejoined their unit in the village. On that day, 22 December 1944, around midday, they came but they decided to set up in the neighboring house that was empty of its occupants.
Afternon, 22 December 1944
In the afternoon, where as the US Sergeant and dad were talking together in front of the house facing the road, a man was seen in a wood situated about 300 meters to the north, who was observing us; the Sergeant immediately sent a jeep to the top of the hill (cross of Ennal) on the road but in vain then he called an artillery fire. It was to be launched on the crests to the north and east. It was getting dark about 1700 h.and, while the soldiers were in the house next door all the family was around the stove with an oil lamp let on the table. About 1915 h., bursts of submachine guns pierced the silence. My father pushed us all into a corner of the kitchen under the staircase of the first floor and that was more or less protected by a closet. A few seconds later, we are defeaned by the explosion of handgrenades, the door is broken open to the road then a second explodes in the middle of the room wounding my mother and my grandmother. The table is broken, the oil lamp is hurled onto the floor, a chair lands on the stove and starts burning. Grenades explode simultaneously in the corridor at the first floor (over the kitchen-cellar) and demolish the staircase that tears down into the kitchen.
The attacking Germans are howling their first names: "Johann, Manfred, Hans, etc" to the point of making our hair stand on end. Once the assault against the outpost is finished and the noises of the fighting are getting further to the village, dad starts picking up the mattresses covered with rubble and carries them to the adjoining cellar to the kitchen. We grope our way into the cellar in pitch dark and we carry my grandmother who has lost much blood. About midnight, noises of boots and guttural voices echo into the kitchen, the door to the cellar is pushed then a kick throws it open. There appear three German soldiers, the first one who is a non-commissioned officer pointing a pistol forward.
My father shouts "Ho" to indicate our presence. The noncom carrying a lighted lighter in the left hand bawls: "Warum kein licht hier?" My father replies: "We had only one lamp in the kitchen but you broke it down with your grenades". The noncom: "Light, quick!". A candel is ignited and the noncom seeing us laid on the mattresses sends off both soldiers back.
My father tell him then that my mother and maily my grandmother have been wounded. The noncom says: "let me see that!" He examines briefly and concluded that it is not severe. Next he says "there are many partisans (underground men) in the area". My father: "I do not know" The noncom: "Yes, there were some in the next village (Wanne), we killed them". As a matter of fact we learned later that the SS had shot six men in Wanne on 20 December 1944.
After, the noncom asks for a rope to fasten his pistol to his belt and explains it will be more secure to crawl or to leap up. After a short time, he gives a military salute and leaves the cellar. We had a narrow escape.
23 December 1944
The next day, 23 December 1944, a radious sun is shining but nevertheless it is cold and dad decides to make a reconnaissance around the house. My father and I step over the rubble in the kitchen go and take look at the road and the neighboring houses. A lonely SS officer sees and calls us. We waves to follow him along the house next door where the US parachutists were billetted and shows us the boody of the unfortunate Sergeant curled up and holding a clod of earth in the right hand. The helmet had rolled beside him. The German tells us: "Here is the Schweinhund!" that fired at us yesterday evening when we attacked. He turns up the body by an arm and give him a kick then he empties his pocket, takes his billfold and, after searching it, takes his comb noticing that this object is not to be found in Germany. He also steals the photo-wallet that he throws along the wall.
Another US soldier is laying dead in a door entrance pulled down by grenades. It is in fact the Hispano-American soldier who had given me a chocolate on the town square on 21 December. Dad calls the German's attention to an unexploded grenade that lies in the passage of our house. The officer examines the grenade, takes it up and lobs it into the field in front then he goes away. The experience is not yet finished. We are forced to evacuate to the next village of Ennal after passing Christmas night under constant artillery fire, after that we will have to leave the area by order of the German Authority to go about twenty kilometers from there to Ottré, on snow covered roads and then attend the American counteroffensive.
After some research work, I found that the american Parachute Sergeant killed on 22 December 1944 at Grand-Halleux had the name of Willie B. Beaty, number 34360248. The historian Allen L. Langdon has written about him in his book : "505th PARACHUTE INFANTRY REGIMENT" and the Germans who were attacking Company "G", 3rd Battalion, 505th P.I.R., belonged to 9th SS Panzer Division.
( http://www.criba.be/fr/stories/detail/the-battle-of-grand-halleux-21---23-december-1944-42-1 )
