Memorial

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Company L 417th moved into the woods near Oberkaufungen, a platoon at a time. Alert, tense, each man moved in quietly. There was that inner feeling of being watched by unseen eyes and that futile sensation of not being able to see in return. The enemy was in there somewhere for already there had been sporadic rifle fire and machine guns from the vicinity had been causing the company trouble. The platoons had been assigned certain sections of the woods and were now slipping through the trees and underbrush. Suddenly the quiet was ripped apart by the shattering chatter of a machine gun. The men dropped in their tracks, stunned by the suddenness of the fire. Every man there knew the position was practically suicide, but no one could move.

Pvt Savas J. Batsos looked around at his buddies and saw them hugging the ground as he was doing. He remembered the long metal object by his side. He caressed the cold steel, gripped it hard, then sprang to his feet, clutching his faithful machine gun alongside his hip. His nerves were steady now and he let go a burst with deadly accuracy into the German lines. The Nazis concentrated all of their fire on the lone individual standing erect. Bullets splintered trees around him and kicked up the dirt at his feet but he kept going forward.

But the gallant soldier had led his last assault. Batsos was fatally wounded as he fought toward the enemy with his machine gun spitting death.