20/03/2026
"𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨!"
A German soldier knocked the helmet from PFC John N. Thornburg's head — and walked him into captivity. 81 years later, that helmet finally came home.
Four U.S. helmets were recovered by our team near the Lausdell Crossroads — close to the twin villages of Rocherath-Krinkelt — each marked with a laundry number. With help from our colleagues Jean-Louis Seel and Jean-Philippe Speder of the 99th Infantry Division MIA Project & Historical Society, we were able to match all four numbers: the helmets had belonged to men of the 3rd Platoon, Company L, 394th Infantry Regiment — all taken prisoner on the same day, 20 December 1944.
Their presence near Lausdell was puzzling. That ground had already fallen to the Germans by then. The answer lay in a memoir Thornburg wrote in August 1945.
Serving as a scout — feeling, as he put it, "much like sacrificial lambs" — Thornburg survived the opening German onslaught on 16 December and the chaotic retreat toward Murringen on 17 December. Passing through 2nd Infantry Division lines brought a brief moment of hope:
"We passed a couple of occupied machine gun positions of the 2nd Infantry Division. That was really cheering — I could begin to see some sense in our retreat. This 2nd Division would block the enemy from pursuit."
But his group was loaded onto trucks — not to rest, but sent straight back to dig in.
"I was about to say 'to the hell with it', when a couple of close German shells changed my mind."
At dusk, a fierce battle erupted from the forest where elements of the 23rd Infantry Regiment were holding the line:
"The Jerries seemed to hit them with everything they had in their arsenal, artillery, mortars, machine guns, everything! How could anyone survive such a furious assault? Somehow they held on, for we could still hear them firing back. I was grateful that we had such a tough, experienced outfit out in front."
With no blankets in bitter cold, Thornburg finally dozed off in his foxhole — his first sleep in nearly 48 hours.
At dawn on 18 December, the 3rd Platoon came under attack — completely unaware that Company L had pulled out during the night, leaving them isolated and alone.
"Approximately 30 to 35 German soldiers were deploying in a gulley about 50 yards down the slope in front of our 'dug in' positions. A burp gun opened up; we could hear the bullets zinging over our heads."
After two hours of fighting, S/Sgt. Chester M. Gregor organized a withdrawal. Scouting ahead, Thornburg made a heartbreaking discovery:
"I headed for the closest machine gun hole on my belly. I saw a figure sprawled face down, the uniform was American. I had to twist his head to see his face, and it seemed to be Sgt. Fields with a bullet hole centered in his forehead. I just didn't want it to be him; he was probably the finest man of the senior noncommissioned officers."
The group fought their way through the Krinkelter Wald and reached the outskirts of Rocherath-Krinkelt near Lausdell — only to find themselves surrounded by German armor.
"Close enough to one tank to hit it with a snowball, four others within one city block, and it was broad daylight."
They hid in an abandoned artillery dugout and waited for darkness.
On the night of 20 December, they made their final attempt to break through. Moving through darkened fields, flares shot into the sky and machine guns opened up. In a field lit up like day, Lieutenant Butcher made a desperate decision:
"Bravely, Butcher stood up, raised his hands and yelled, 'Kamerad! Kamerad! Don't shoot! Don't shoot!'"
One by one, the remaining men surrendered. A German soldier approached Thornburg:
"One of the Germans came up to me, and said in English, 'You don't need this!', and knocked my helmet off. His probing hands found my prized possession, a trench knife that I carried strapped to my chest. He made me drop my ammo belt and searched through my pockets. Strangely, we were allowed to keep our ci******es and pocket knives."
Then, hands raised, they were marched away into captivity. Thornburg spent the rest of the war in Stalag IV-B.
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81 years later, his helmet came home. Arjan Messemaker, a researcher on our team, tracked down Thornburg's daughter — and Marilee held it for the very first time:
"I'm excited to see it, to have it, but I feel kind of somber, too, as I consider all my dad and the other young men went through — for us."
