Memories of Patrolling the East-West Border in the 14th ACR
It was a warm summer evening in June 1958. The sun had set and darkness closed in all around. It was a moonless night, the only light came from the stars. The infamous Iron Curtain (controlled border that separated East Germany from West Germany) stretched from the North Sea, south to Czechoslovakia, and wove its way through the Fulda Gap.
My platoon was assigned to Listening Post (LP) duty, as the darkness made visual observation of the border region impossible. Night vision technology had not been invented yet. Each platoon member was stationed in a LP about a quarter to a half-mile apart, a few feet from the border, behind the cover of brush or trees. Each soldier was armed with an M-1 rifle. Our job was simple; report any sound or perceptible movement of Soviet or Warsaw Pact armament or troops in the Fulda Gap.
Normally, there is nothing going on and the silence along the border is deafening. Let’s face it; a lot of guys had trouble staying awake, especially if they had had a belt of something alcoholic before going on duty, which was strictly forbidden. Lieutenant Marshall Mundy, a recent Virginia Military Institute graduate, a shave-tail as we called him, was notorious for quietly slipping into the LP’s and catching guys asleep at their post, a definite NO, NO. Getting caught asleep at your duty station could lead to an undesirable write-up, extra duty penalties, a demotion or all of the above.
I was hunkered down on my LP behind some bushes in case a sudden burst of light appeared from the enemy across the border. I looked out into the black nothingness that lay in front of me. I could hear the faint sound of a motorized vehicle way off in the distance. I listened intently for several minutes as it continually got louder and closer. In the valleys of the Fulda Gap noises echoed off the hills confusing your senses of where sounds were coming from. The sounds grew louder and closer. The sounds were of a jeep screaming through its low gear range. I remembered the stories I had heard of Lt. Mundy sneaking into the LP’s. Whoever this was coming into my perimeter definitely had my attention.
I stepped out from behind my cover, pointed my rifle in the direction of the jeep’s noise, and bellowed out a loud verbal challenge, “HALT”! The jeep kept coming. Tensing up, again, I challenged, yelling, “HALT” at the top of my voice. He kept coming. Adrenaline was pulsating through my veins as I loaded a 30 caliber round into the chamber of my M-1 rifle, and leveled it at the dark shadows coming into my vision. I screamed, “HALT” with all the voice I had.
He kept coming; my finger was squeezing against the trigger. All of a sudden, the jeep went silent and I heard a panicked, “don’t shoot, D D DON’T SHOOT.”
“Who goes there?” I yelled. “L L Lieutenant M M Mundy,” he stuttered. (Now I was starting to enjoy this little episode.) “Advance and be recognized.” I commanded. He and his driver dismounted from the jeep and stepped forward with their hands raised, a flashlight shining in their faces. “I almost blew your asses away Sir,” I said and admonished him and his driver for foolishly trying to sneak into a secured area. I’m sure it must have been the adrenaline talking. After a moment of silence, Lt. Mundy asked me, “Where were you?” I explained I was waiting for the intruders over in the brush. He said, quietly and still a little shaken, “Good job, Private, damn good job.”
Oliver Holden Dunham, Private First Class
Regimental Headquarters and Headquarters Company Medic, and B Company, Mortar Gunner, 1st Battalion, 14th ACR
Played two season on the Regimental football team, the Cavaliers.
1957-1960