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1st Sgt Marion H. Lamm enlisted at Fort Lauderdale, Florida, on 2 March 1942. He was sent overseas in April 1943

During the night, Capt Knecht and Sgt Lamm were part of a group that were surrounded by German troops. After surrendering, Sgt Lamm was shot by a German soldier without any provocation, according to one of the other American soldiers, Cpl Spear. The bullet punctured his lung and injured two other men. Sgt Lamm was forced to march for miles. When the prisoners arrived at a village, Sgt Lamm died.

Below is a transcript of the letter of Cpl Spear to the parents of Sgt Lamm:

I wrote to you with the thought in mind, that it would be a simple task to tell you of your sons death. Before I begin this letter, I am lost for the proper words. So in order to relate the whole story, I'll start from the beginning from where I first came in contact with Sgt. Lamm.
I was assigned to the battery as a recruit and from the very first day, I found a friend in the person of your son. We were at Ft. Bragg, North Carolina and through the numerous countries that the 82nd Division had traveled. When He was made the First Sergeant of Battery 'B' I was the Battery Clerk and Mail Orderly. So of all the men that worked with him I was with him the most. He was well loved by all the men that he controlled. No outfit could ever find a better Top Kick. I've fought side by side with him all through Sicily, Italy, France and in Holland up till the time that we were captured. All the other little Skirmishs are in the past and I doubt whether you would be intereted in them with the exception of the time that we where sent into Holland.
We had been alerted several times after coming out of France and had expected to see action both in Luxenburg and Belgium. But the Airborne Men were not needed there. Then the day came that the Airborne were called upon to go on another mission. As usual, we were calmed and collective. We were use to these alerts. But, this time we went to the Airfield with full equipment and we meant business. Sgt. Lamm and I were the ones to carry out most of the work. Your son had to make sure that all his men were present at all formations and to carry out all orders from the Battery Commander. While I had to be couped up in a shanty and make out numerous forms that were required before we could set foot inside a glider. As usual, we had our quanity of coffee. Your son and I, had the same bad habit, that of liking our coffee, good and black.
Your son was a very busy fellow during these preparations. Loads had to be checked and it was up to him that they were in order. Your son took the place of a Lieutenant. Which he should of been, and which he refused on several occasions. He figured that he was better off as a First Sergeant. Which there isn't much doubt that he was right.
Take off from the air fild was as usual with the exception that we follow the take off of the Paratroopers by a couple of hours. There was usually a lapse of 12 to 14 hours in previous missions. The trip across the channel and over Holland was a smooth one. Not much activity until we hit the border line between Holland and Germany. Then everything was thrown up at us. The air was filled with ack-ack and small arms fire. Our tow ships weaved in and out of the barrage like veterans. Which we were by this time. Sgt. Lamm was in a glider directly behind mine. He was in charge of one load and I was in charge of the glider that I was in.
We over shot our landing field and before we could turn around and return to the place where we were suppose to land we were cut loose from our tow ships and glided down to Earth. Landing was perfect. We couldn't ask for a better field to land in. There wasn't a crackup in the whole ten gliders that landed with the exception of some broken glass and a few bruised legs and arms. Your Son emerged with a bright smile and a bruised shin. He was limping slightly but he still kept that smile that meant a lot to the fellows that were with him. I came out with but a few cuts from flying glass. We formed a circle of men with small arms to cover the balance of men while they were unloading their gliders. Sgt. Lamm was busy with the One Lieutenant that was with us in orienting ourselves as to where we were. We found out much to our woe, that we were some seventeen miles inside of Germany. A long ways away from the rest of the outfit. We arranged a scouting party after we were entirely unloaded and your son took the lead. Carefully picking our way under what cover was available due to the fact that their was enemy action overhead in the form of german stuka's.
Quite luckily we arrived in time at one farm yard to seek shelter as Jerries planes flew overhead and started to strafe our empty gliders. After every thing seemed quiet, we moved on again to another farm house. Here we planned to stay till it was dark and move under the cloak of night. While waiting for night to fall we destroyed what papers and maps that we thought would be of benefit to the enemy in case that we were caught. All this took place with the thought in mind that we could return to our outfit in perfect condition, and which we learned later was an error. Guards were posted around the farm house and all we had to do was wait for night. When all at once one of the guards came running up to the first sergeant, and said that we were surround by jerries. That was enough. Here we were some 20 miles away from our own troops and surrounded by Germans. I was by Sgt. Lamm's side and also the Motor Sgt. We talked it over for several minutes and decided that the best thing that could be done was to surrender. We agreed and went to the Lieutenant and told him how we felt. He thought that it was a good idea and that it would save needless bloodshed.
We waited for them to come after us, which they did around 10:00 o'clock in the night. We laid down our arms and walked out into the open with our hands over our heads. We were searched for weapons and lined up. Sgt. Lamm was directly in front of me and the rest of the men behind. For no reason what so ever, one of the germans, raised up his gun, pointed it at Sgt. Lamm, and pulled the trigger. The next thing I knew, Sgt. Lamm was on the ground. I tried with a buddy to pick him up, but was forced by the guards to keep my hand in the air. (We found out later that the same bullet that went through Sgt. Lamm, also passed through another soldier arm and reamined in still another soldiers arm. The bullet had hit three of our men. When ever thing was ready to the Germans satisfaction, we were told to support Sgt. Lamm between two of us and then were forced to March some four miles to a small village. Your son was coughing badly and his legs were weak. But he gamely kept on going. After walking some three miles which seemed eternity, he started to give out. He begged us to leave him behind but we persuaded him to carry on.
We arrived at a school house in a village called Kalkar. When we got there Sgt. Lamm passed out. This was the first time that he was allowed any medical treatment. It was too late. He had died with a bullet hole through the lung. The other two fellows arms were allowed to be dressed.
We were questioned all during the night. Sgt. Lamm's body was covered with our field jackets. This was the last we saw of him for we were moved to another town in the morning and left him at this school house. I couldn't tell you where he was buried or whether there was a report made out by the Germans on his death. That is the reason that I yielded to temptation to write to you and tell you of the circumstances under which your son met his death.
Please forgive me if I have been too bold in my description but I have learned the hard way and cannot find words to sugar my expressions. I have just returned from a German peison camp and have been reunited with my wife and have seen my son for the first time. I know that Sgt. Lamm would want one of us to write to his family for I would expect some one to do the same for me.
If this has filled the question that is in your mind as to how he met his death, I'd appreciate and acknowledgement. Hoping to be of some service to you in the future,
I am Yours truly
Cpl. George Wiley Spear

He was the battery commander's, Capt Albert Knecht, close friend.