Germans Couldn’t Stop This “Walking Grenade” — Until He Destroyed 3 Machine Gun Nests Alone

Hero on Hill 616: How One American Soldier Single-Handedly Turned the Tide of Battle

KAISERSBURG, FRANCE — On a bitter January afternoon in 1945, Technical Sergeant Russell Dunham faced what most soldiers would consider a suicide mission. Crouched in knee-deep snow at the base of Hill 616, Dunham, just 24 years old, peered up at the slope where German machine guns raked the landscape. His platoon was pinned down, trapped in a deadly killing zone, and every movement forward could be their last.

The Germans had fortified three MG42 machine gun nests along the hill, each capable of firing 1,200 rounds per minute. Artillery fire from behind kept Dunham’s men under constant threat. Eleven soldiers from his platoon had already been killed that week. The snow around them was churned red, a grim reminder of the high human cost of the Voge Mountains campaign. For the men of Company I, retreat was not an option; any attempt to move forward would mean certain death.

Dunham’s solution was unconventional, daring, and heroic. Crawling back to his company position, he grabbed a white mattress cover and draped it over his uniform, transforming himself into an improvised camouflage. He then loaded himself with 72 pounds of ammunition and explosives, strapping 12 carbine magazines and a dozen fragmentation grenades across his body. Without a word to his platoon sergeant, Dunham began the crawl up the snow-covered slope. The first 75 yards took 18 minutes, each move timed to avoid German fire. His hands were numb, his uniform soaked through, and his M1 carbine dug painfully into his shoulder from the weight of the grenades.

At six yards from the first machine gun nest, Dunham was hit by a rifle bullet that tore a 10-inch gash across his back. Thrown 15 yards into the snow, the wound could have been fatal. Within seconds, a German grenade landed just two feet from his head. Dunham kicked it away, the blast throwing snow in all directions, but he didn’t stop. Rising to his feet, he charged the machine gun nest. In 18 seconds, he had emptied 30 rounds from his carbine, killed two of the three men manning the gun, and captured the third, sending him down the hill toward American lines for interrogation.

Without pause, Dunham pressed on to the second machine gun nest, 50 yards uphill and to the right. The Germans were now fully aware of his assault and had adjusted their fire accordingly. Crawling through the snow, bleeding and exhausted, Dunham hurled two grenades into the reinforced bunker, killing all three crew members. In the chaos, he also took down three German infantrymen attempting to support the gun position, letting the remaining enemy flee.

Finally, Dunham faced the third machine gun nest, 65 yards further up the slope. The Germans had watched his entire assault, aware of his wounds and the red-stained mattress cover that made him a conspicuous target. Dodging rifle grenades and machine gun fire, he crawled to within striking distance, then leapt to his feet and threw grenades into the fortified position. The blasts shattered the bunker, killing all three crew members. In just under 12 minutes, Dunham had single-handedly neutralized all three machine gun nests, fired 175 rounds, and expended 11 grenades, saving 120 American soldiers from certain death.

Dunham’s heroism did not end with Hill 616. Ten days later, on January 22, his company was surrounded by German tanks near Holtzwir. Despite his still-healing back wound and frostbitten feet, Dunham evaded capture, hiding for hours in a barrel of fermented sauerkraut to avoid detection. The acidic brine burned his exposed wound, and temperatures plunged to single digits, but Dunham survived. Using his wits, he managed to overpower two German guards and escape, traveling three days through frozen farmland and forests before finally reaching American lines, nearly 30 miles behind enemy territory.

For his actions on Hill 616, Technical Sergeant Russell Dunham was awarded the Medal of Honor on April 23, 1945. Standing in Zeppelin Stadium in Nuremberg, Germany, Dunham was recognized not only for his courage but for the sheer impact of his actions. Lieutenant General Alexander Patch, commander of the 7th Army, remarked that he had never seen a single soldier turn the tide of an entire engagement through pure bravery. “He fought like 10 men that day,” Patch said.

Dunham’s life after the war was quieter but no less significant. He returned home to Illinois, married, and spent 32 years working as a benefits counselor for the Veterans Administration, helping fellow veterans navigate the system. He attended Medal of Honor conventions and Third Infantry Division reunions but rarely spoke of his wartime exploits unless asked directly. Always, he insisted he had just been doing his job.

Russell Dunham passed away on April 6, 2009, at the age of 89, leaving behind a legacy of extraordinary heroism that saved over a hundred lives during one of the bloodiest campaigns of World War II. His brother Ralph, who had served alongside him, died ten years earlier. Though many of the men from Company I had passed on, the story of Hill 616 and the courage of one determined sergeant remains a testament to the human capacity for bravery in the face of almost certain death.

Dunham’s story highlights not only the horrors of war but the remarkable resilience and resourcefulness of soldiers under fire. From crawling through snow carrying 72 pounds of gear, to hurling grenades into enemy positions, to surviving in a barrel of sauerkraut for 13 hours, his courage is almost mythic—and yet entirely real. For the men who survived that day, and for the generations that followed, Russell Dunham’s actions on Hill 616 are remembered as the epitome of selfless heroism.

In an era when stories of World War II are often told in broad strokes, the tale of Technical Sergeant Dunham reminds us that history is shaped not just by the movements of armies, but by the choices of individuals. One man, armed with determination, grenades, and a mattress cover, changed the course of a battle and saved more than a hundred lives. It is a story that endures, as vivid and inspiring today as it was on that freezing January day in 1945.