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<\/a><\/p>\nIn early February 1945, the men of E Company,<\/b> 506th<\/sup> PIR, 101st<\/sup> A\/B, (the elite company of paratroopers commonly known as the Band of Brothers), came off the line in the frozen forests near Bastogne and were sent to hold the line at Haguenau, a 20,000-resident-city that sat astride the Moder River.<\/p>\n Usually the city sat within French borders. But Germany had seized it a few years earlier and had clutched it throughout WWII. Allied troops retook it in early 1945. They camped in the town on one side of the river, while enemy troops camped on the other.<\/p>\n Sporadic shells flew across the Moder River, but other than that, not much action was seen in Haguenau during that time. Both sides knew that the war was winding down, and the biggest thought of the Allied veterans, at least the ones I\u2019ve interviewed, was cautious hope. Maybe they were actually going to make it through the war alive. Nobody wanted to do anything stupid.<\/p>\n In mid-February, 1945, Colonel Robert Sink, the respected and capable commander of the 506th<\/sup> PIR, ordered his men to conduct a small combat patrol across the river to capture enemy prisoners for interrogation.<\/p>\n It was no easy task. It meant about 20 men needed to silently paddle boats across the river at night, advance upon a well-defended position with established fields of fire, capture enemy troops alive, then bring the prisoners back to headquarters for questioning.<\/p>\n Private Eugene Jackson<\/p><\/div>\n The patrol worked. Under the cover of darkness, the men slipped across the frosty river, blasted into the enemy fortifications, snatched two Nazis, and came back triumphant. But the price for the allied troops was costly: Private Eugene Jackson, age 19, took grenade fragments to his face and head.<\/p>\n His friends rushed him back across the river. Jackson was bleeding heavily, crazed with pain from a piece of burning hot metal lodged in his skull, and screaming, \u201cKill me! Somebody kill me! Oh Christ, I can\u2019t stand the pain!\u201d He twitched for 20 or 30 feet but died before reaching the aid station.<\/p>\n There was another complicating factor that the vets I\u2019ve interviewed all point to. Overall, the mission was pretty much useless. What sort of important, war-changing secrets were two random German soldiers going to disclose under interrogation? That they\u2019d had cold coffee and stale bread for breakfast? That\u2019s why the next day, when orders came from upper brass that an identical patrol was planned for that night, the men were downright furious.<\/p>\n A second patrol? Why?!<\/p>\n Compounding problems was that an icy snow had fallen overnight along the river. The enemy would be able to hear the allied troops coming a long way off. It was a suicide mission with no strong benefit. But orders were orders.<\/p>\n Captain Dick Winters<\/p><\/div>\n Acting on Colonel Sink\u2019s command, Captain Dick Winters was in charge of organizing the second patrol, just like he had the first. Winters told the men to be ready at the assigned hour.<\/p>\n The men all ten-hupped when Winters met them in a dank basement of an abandoned house to go over details. The captain returned their salute, took off his helmet, and rubbed his forehead with his hands.<\/p>\n \u201cHere\u2019s what I want you to do,\u201d Captain Winters said in a husky whisper. \u201cGet some sleep. In the morning you will report to me that you made it across the river but were unable to secure any live prisoners. Understand?\u201d<\/p>\n A few eyebrows lifted. A few grins twitched. \u201cYes sir,\u201d someone finally said.<\/p>\n The second patrol never happened. Captain Dick Winters had his reasons. Good, logical, well-thought out reasons. But the move also contained traces of wild irrationality. Of going against sound character. Winters, one of the finest fighting men of WWII, was directly disobeying an order. He wrote out a bogus report and presented it to Colonel Sink.<\/p>\n You need to realize how serious this was.<\/p>\n Not only that, but if Winters\u2019 men were grumbling about going on another mission, you wouldn\u2019t expect a wartime captain to respond with compassion. You\u2019d expect the captain to tell his men to toughen up\u2014that\u2019s what normally happened in the military. An officer would berate his men for grousing in the face of duty. He would talk to them with a voice of disapproval and tell them to snap out of it and get on with their work.<\/p>\n But Winters did none of that. He was able to step back and see the bigger picture. He saw that there was deeper and wiser reasoning that needed to be heeded.<\/p>\n Winters\u2019 actions can be summed up by one phrase \u2026<\/p>\n He trusted his gut.<\/p>\n Okay, let\u2019s return to the first story, <\/b>my severe fury on the trail to Macy Falls. Here\u2019s how it played out.<\/p>\n There I was, running after a dog owner, getting ready to hit him. My strong knee-jerk reaction, uncharacteristic of me, was a pointer to some deeper truth within me. I was overly angry, and there must have been a reason. That\u2019s what my gut was trying to tell me. And that deeper reason is what I needed to dig to if I was ever going to move forward.<\/p>\n Deep down, this is what was truly happening in my life:<\/p>\n<\/a><\/a>