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We watched, half afraid that our men would fall into a trap. But down there below us was a crafty young officer. We could see him detach himself with three soldiers from the rest of the men and go forward in a low crouch, shifting from side to side, as if they were bloodhounds sniffing a trail. Suddenly 50 yards from the trench the officer's hand flew out by his side and urgently motioned his men to lie down. Then the officer crawled forward through the bare wheat and around small rocks.
In a moment he halted, got to his knees and divested himself of gear that he had been carrying on his back. Then he rushed forward and with a violent motion threw a potato masher grenade into the trench. As the officer rushed away smoke rose from the trench. Then bits of dust began kicking up around the officer from a machine gun on the far flank of the trench which the officer had not been able to see. We watched him crawl back, put on his gear again and then collect his three men.
Unfortunately for us, there was a report that German tanks were coming up the road. Our telescope was whisked away.
The Long Afternoon. Throughout the long, hot afternoon the usual fog of war settled around us and everything was confusion. The usual battlefield rumors flew up & down the lines in chaotic profusion.
At 3 o'clock our planes dived one by one on some target behind Troina. Because-there was no flak, we figured the enemy might be withdrawing. The sounds of battle grew less, and finally, when a heavy formation of B-25s struck at the town at 7 o'clock, we stood boldly up on our ridge and watched. All firing seemed to have ceased, as if both sides were watching the blasting of Troina, which, though only a mile away, vanished again behind the curtain of black smoke.
After the planes had gone a hush settled over the battlefield. Soldiers left their foxholes and stopped to chat with one an other. In the strange quiet, men's spirits began rapidly to soar. Chuck Horner said: "This is the hardest battle we've had since El Guettar. I think"cross your fingers"we're going to get Troina tonight." Another Night. Except for the small pocket on our right, the Germans seemed to have departed. Chuck Horner chose a patrol to scout the approaches to the town. As the sun sank behind the hills, casting its last rays on the cliff of Troina, Major Horner gave Lieut. Mastyl, who was the leader of the patrol, his last instructions: "If you get up to the town and there's nobody there, fire two red flares. Then come back to L Company and direct them on the route you took toward the town. Then I'll bring the whole battalion forward." In the middle of the night Mastyl and his seven men returned. Halfway out, said Mastyl, he had been machine-gunned. He tried to work his men around a slope on the blind side of the gun, but immediately ran into another. "We couldn't get past," he told Major Horner. "I thought I'd better come back."