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Noville Outpost to Bastogne - My Last Battle

by Don Addor

190 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #04-1227; ISBN 1-4120-3400-0; US$19.95, C$25.00, EUR16.25, £11.26

This story details one soldier's last fight at the Belgium town of Noville, an outpost of Bastogne, and his struggle to stay alive while injured and alone on the foggy battle field.

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about the book      about the author      excerpts      catalogue info

About the Book This is the story of one soldier's last fight at the Belgium town of Noville, an outpost of Bastogne. Orders were to hold this crossroads at any cost until the defenses of Bastogne could be strengthened. This book is an infantryman's memory of this terrible battle, including his close calls with death and the story of how he and his partner destroyed a Tiger tank from just a few feet away. It is a bloody tale of a bloody fight. Some of that blood came form PFC Addor when he was hit twice in just a couple of minutes. Mr. Addor describes his struggle to stay alive while all alone on the foggy battle field, including how he invented a new type of tournequet to keep from bleeding to death, and his unbelievable rescue and escape from surrounded Bastogne. The book also tells of his Army medical treatment and rehabilitation, which included extensive therapy to help him learn to walk on an artifical leg. Mr. Addor also relates several other combat experiences against the Germans during World War II. Praise for Noville Outpost to Bastogne Your book Noville Outpost to Bastogne is a gem and was a joy to read. Your recall of events was amazing in the depiction of the episodes during your period with the 20th Armored Infantry Battalion. World War II veterans and students of that great period in our history would all benefit from a reading of your story. The detailed descriptions of your injury and the recuperative procedures reveal an inner courage and will serve as a model for other injured GIs, whatever the war, to emulate. As a former high school colleague from the good old days, I admire you for putting your story together and wish you all the best with book sales. Malcolm Lawrence, WWII Veteran, 8th Air Force, 94th Bomb Group We have a talented author among us. I purchased a book entitled Noville Outpost to Bastogne: My Last Battle, at our club picnic and have had difficulty putting it down as soon as I started reading it. It is written by our own, long-term member, Don Addor. He can be very proud of his fine work. It is about his many battles including the Battle of the Bulge, with the 20th Armored Infantry Battalion, 10th Division, General Patton's Third Army. The book is well written, extremely interesting and well worth the $20.00 purchase price. I sincerely hope each of you will buy this outstanding book for an added bonus to your personal library. Thanks Don for this very rewarding personal pleasure of reading your fine book. I hope you enjoyed writing it as much as I enjoyed reading it. Peg Rider, ESRAACA "Glass N' Brass" Newsletter, October 2004.

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About the Author Mr. Addor was born and grew up in Washington DC, where he attended public school. He graduated from Coolidge High School in June 1943 and enlisted in the Army on July 4th. He was called to active duty in September after finishing a semester at George Washington University in DC. Following Infantry basic training in heavy weapons at Camp Croft, SC he was sent to Camp Gordon, Augusta, GA, and was assigned to the machine gun squad, 3rd Platoon, Company C, 20th Armored Infantry Battalion, 10th Armored Division. The 10th Armored was sent to Europe and became a spearhead division for the Patten's Third Army. As a member of this group PFC Donald J. Addor participated in the Moselle-Saar Valley drive that ended in the capture of the ancient fortress city of Metz. With the 20h AIB PFC Addor was the first group to be sent by Gen. Patton to defend Bastogne. Here he was with Team Desobry at Noville, Belgium. During this battle Mr. Addor was wounded by machinegun fire. Gangrene set in and his right leg was amputated on Christmas of 1944. After medical treatment and rehabilitation that included learning to walk on an artificial leg, he was discharged from Walter Reed Army Medical Center, Washington DC, on December 8th 1945. In February of 1946 Mr. Addor entered the University of Maryland, College Park, MD. He graduated from Maryland in 1951 with a degree in Journalism and Public Relations. His first job was as Assistant Public Information Officer at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. This was like coming home as he wrote of those wounded in combat in Korea and covered many other happenings at the Center. Following the Korean War Mr. Addor moved to the US Navy's All Hands Magazine where he worked as a writer and editor until his retirement in 1970. Following his retirement Mr. Addor moved to Rehoboth Beach and became a permanent resident of Delaware. Here he continued his journalistic career as a freelance writer and editor. In addition to covering events for the local weeklies he also wrote a column for the Sussex Post and was writer and editor of the Delaware Legionaire, the monthly newspaper of the American Legion, Department of Delaware. For ten years he served his community and country as a member of the US Coast Guard Auxiliary writing promitions for their many programs. Mr. Addor is also a life member of the Indian River Volunteer Fire Co. where he was active until he moved. Mr. Addor is also a member of the following: University of Maryland Alumni Assoc., Sigma Chi and Phi Delta Epsilon National Journalistic Fraternities. He has been Post Commander of the Veterans of Foreign Wars, Disabled American Veterans and was the founder and first Commander of American Legion Post 28, Millsboro, De. that is now one of the largest in the USA. He is also a member of the Military Order of the Purple Heart and the Veterans of the Battle of the Bulge. Mr. Addor has the following military decorations: The Bronze Star, Purple Heart, Good Conduct Medal, European Theatre with two campaign stars, American Theatre and Victory Medal. He also was awarded the Combat Infantry Badge and the Army Presidential Unit Citation as well as the Belgium Croix de Guerre and the French Liberation Medal.

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Excerpts

Excerpt 1

...He fired again and his bullets cut a burning path right in front of the window so close it seemed that I could reach out and grab them. A few minutes passed and he fired again. This time I noticed something about the burning path of those bullets. Their trail was almost white. I asked Sarge if he noticed any thing about them. He answered, "Yeah. They were right in front of the window, damn close!" I said, "I meant the color. They were almost white." He replied, "Damned if they weren't." This meant he was very close, like only next door. When tracer bullets leave the fun barrel they are glowing white with a slight tint of yellow. As they travel their color changes from yellow to orange and finally just before they burn out they are red.

With him being that close I wondered why no one had been able to find him. I got up and went over by the window standing just to one side. I thought about the son-of-a-bitch and thought about him again. Finally I said to Sarge, "The next time he fires I'm going to stick my head out to see where he is firing from." Sarge did not think that was such a good idea as I might just get my head blown away. But I figured a quick peek wouldn't be too dangerous so I readied myself for his next firing. I waited and waited and finally he fired down the street again. As the first rounds sailed by I stuck my head out and took a look at his next burst. He was firing out of the top of the peak of the roof of thee next house. Any higher up and he would have been on the outside of the roof.

However, that feeling was short lived. Another round hit the house directly across the street. I said to my self, "Wow, if that peak had not been there that shell would have landed right in my lap." At the same time I realized that usually the Germans fired three shells in a sequence. I could hear the next shell coming as I bolted out of the chair and ran towards the safety of the little cellar. I was almost there when I heard the shell tear through the stone wall up stairs. I took a belly flop and nose dive right down those steps ending up on top of someone. We heard it rip across the floor and crash into another wall....

Excerpt 2

...I was out for a minute or two and when I came to I was numb from the concussion. I looked to my left, and almost in reaching distance was the tail of a German mortar shell sticking out of the center of the hole it had blasted in the soft ground of the cow pasture. Thin wisps of blue-gray smoke were still swirling out of the hole. Feeling began to return to my body. I tried moving my legs and arms. They were still a little numb, but every thing was working and there was no blood. I started to move and felt something sticking in my back. I reached back and felt a large piece of shrapnel sticking out through my shirt and field jacket, but there was no blood and it didn't hurt.

All the numbness was gone. Just a strange tingling sensation was all over my body. I looked over to that smoking mortar shell that was so close and realized that I had truly been lucky. Most of the shrapnel had been buried or deflected by the mud. It was time to get the Hell out of this mud hole so running low I headed for my M-1 that lay just ahead in the direction I thought I should go. I had only taken a few steps when a "Burp-gun" chattered in the fog across the street. The bullets tore the field jacket off my back and passed so close to my nose that I could feel the heat from the tracers. The ones that hit me went right through my right leg. This one cut the artery. I could see the path of the bullets as they came out by the trail of blood following them. I fell flat down in the mud again this time on my face....

Excerpt 3

...Everybody headed for the basement door and the protection of the cellar below. I headed in that direction, but I was stopped by the many trying to get through that small door all at once, I thought, "Do I really want to be down there?" That was a good place to get buried alive and a Tiger tank had the firepower to bring this building down. I'm no hero type, but I'm also not of the mind to stick my head in the sand and wait for my ass to be blown away. I'd rather go down making some kind of resistance even if it was just throwing rocks. With this in mind I turned around and headed for the back door to take a look at the Tiger. I looked out the door and down the narrow black top road, but all I could see was the white blanket of fog that still covered the town and country side. I shrugged my shoulders and wondered what had gotten in to that GI. I turned around and there he was. I pointed down the road and said there's not a damn thing down there but fog.

He said, "Not there." Where I had pointed. "There!" And he pointed right along the side of the building. There it was not 25 feet away. The biggest, meanest looking son-of-a-bitch I had ever seen. I could have spit on it if my mouth had not gone dry all of a sudden. I went back into the room looking for some thing to throw at it. I saw a bazooka leaning against the wall and went for it. Now the only experience I had ever had with a Bazooka was way back in basic training and that was just a couple of shots for familiarization. I knew how it worked with two people, but that was all. The one I had fired was just one long pipe. I grabbed it and was trying to figure out how to get it into firing condition when a voice started giving me instructions...

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Catalogue Information

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