We drove to the edge of a wooded area, rounded up a dozen G. I.s, parceled out the equipment we wanted to take along, and under the covering fire of the "dough boys" in the woods, snaked our way across the last quarter mile of terrain to the radar mount. The mount was well concealed in the low brush which covered the greater portion of the open ground between the two wooded areas. The first sight of the mount drew a whistle of amazement from me. In spite of the fact that all of the "mount's" box car like shape (ten by eight by twenty five feet) was underground and only the antenna was above ground, this shell had ripped one end of the radar set open as if with a can opener. Tubes were smashed, wires and cables cut, resisters and condensers shattered, and transformers and motors torn from their anchored positions. The first job was to cut away all the debris, which was quickly accomplished. The second job was to repair the mount, but that was an extremely difficult task with the limited amount of supplies we carried. As the hours wore on and fatigue crept into mind and muscle, we began wondering why this job was such a rush order. Why couldn't we not sleep a few hours before finishing the job? As if in answer to our question, a barrage of mortar shells fell in the fringe of the wooded area behind us. For almost ten minutes the shells came in, falling like rain in a could burst of hell. That barrage of shells was the adrenaline we had needed. We continued the repair work with renewed vigor. Late that afternoon, as we were putting the finishing touches on the mount, the battalion commander sent out a message giving us the real reason for the urgency of the mission. The hour 0600 was to be "H hour" for a new "Jump Off", and if these mortars were not located it would mean many casualties and possibly no advance.
We put the mount on the air for a test run at 1700 hours. Almost immediately a barrage of "88" shells fell in the patch of brush. The concussion of the nearest round exploding knocked the mount off the air and sent singing fragments thru the antenna's reflector. We "walkie-talkied" headquarters that the mount could be operated and asked for orders. The orders were to operate whenever the mortars opened fire and to shut down if "88" fire seriously threatened the mount. We acknowledged the orders and waited for the mortar shells to start falling. The wait was not long. Supposedly the "Jerries" hoped to catch some of the "G.I.s" out of their protective fox holes eating "chow". We snapped the mount on the air and started sweeping the sector in which the mortars were located. Almost immediately the mortar shells stopped dropping and the battery of "88s" started lobbing shells in on us. Since mortar shells were no longer falling we snapped the mount off the air. With the mount off the air, the "88" battery shells stopped firing. Now we began to understand the situation. The mortars were afraid our mount would locate them, and they were trying to knock us off the air with their "88s." However, the "fixes" their "88s" were getting on our mount were not accurate enough to do a finishing job. Therefore, whenever we went off the air, the "88s" stopped firing in hopes that one of their rounds had "chilled" the radar set. It was a kind of game in which three tired C.M., a lieutenant almost as tired, and a makeshift radar set were playing against time and a cagey opponent.