Army Staff Sgt. Robert Hatlen’s account of what he endured during 195 days on the front lines of the European Theater during World War II are a reminder of the horror of war and the bravery of American troops thrust into the worst of it.

Although Hatlen, who died in 2015 at age 93, wrote about his war experiences just a few years before he passed away, the recollections seem as vivid as the day they happened.

Hatlen was inducted into the Army’s 104th infantry division in November 1942. He declined officer training, opting instead to stay as squad leader with his buddies.

The division was known as the Timberwolf; its commander favored night attacks, which led to its combat effectiveness.

In his handwritten memoir, Hatlen recalled his first experience moving up to fight.

“We moved up at night. It was so dark out you couldn’t see,” Hatlen wrote. “We were to dig fox holes and hold until daylight. We dug about 18 inches and struck water, so we made sod shelters. During the night we didn’t know how close we were to the Germans…”

Hatlen and his fellow soldiers moved first through Northern France, Belgium, Holland and by November 1944 had moved into Germany. He remembers their “first bad situation” in Stahlberg, where the Germans had a pillbox in their way.

A pillbox is a low concrete emplacement for machine guns and antitank weapons.

“I had six men and one machine gun,” Hatlen recounted. He and his men headed straight into a dire situation.

As they came to the blind side of the pillbox, “all hell broke loose,” Hatlen said.

“The riflemen coming up across the field were getting blown to bits by both the mines and intense shelling. In the meantime we see Germans going out the backside of the pillbox, so we fired on them and then we got their attention. … In the next six hours or so we took all kinds of hits.” Hatlen called it an “all-day nightmare.”

After Hatlen’s death three years ago, an Army buddy, Wesley Gaab of Independence, Ohio, wrote a letter to Hatlen’s family, mentioning the story of the combat at Stahlberg, Germany.

“How he (Hatlen) was able to get us to the top of that fortress when nobody else could still amazes me,” Gaab wrote.

In his written account, Hatlen confided that like many other soldiers in combat, he found God early on, during his time in Holland.

“When you get real frightened, you turn to religion; soldiers call it fox-hole religion,” he wrote. “It stuck with me and I lost all fear as I know someone was watching over me. From that time on, I could think more clearly, as I didn’t worry about getting hit.”

By the time he was honorably discharged in November 1945, Hatlen had racked up a stack of commendations.

He earned the Bronze Star, World War II Victory Medal, American Service Medal, the European-African-Middle Eastern Service Medal, Good Conduct Medal and several other honors.

Hatlen’s son, Robert Hatlen Jr. of Kalispell said his father never talked much about his combat experiences. Like many veterans of “The Greatest Generation,” he put the war behind him and moved on with his life.

“He didn’t talk a whole lot about it,” the younger Hatlen said. “There were times I sat with him and he’d tell a couple of stories. I think he had quite a few bad dreams. I never really prodded him.”

Features Editor Lynnette Hintze may be reached at 758-4421 or lhintze@dailyinterlake.com.