If You Survive (11 page)

For close support, right up beside a pillbox, the infantry had two deadly weapons, flamethrowers and satchel charges. The flamethrower was operated by one man with a tank strapped to his back, The flame from the hose was huge, but the man had to get within ten to twenty yards of his target. If he could get close enough to an aperture, he could blind or suffocate those inside the pillbox. Some of the enemy might also be set on fire.

The satchel charge had a long fuse attached to twelve pounds of TNT, six pounds in each side of a saddlelike bag. If it could be set off in one of the pillbox openings, it would kill or stun anyone inside. With both weapons, a man had to get in very close. Dangerous work, but it really paid off. Either close-in weapon could finish off a pillbox—providing the attacker could stay alive long enough to use them.

Our splendid Third Battalion (Companies I, K, L, and M) was the one Colonel Lanham seemed to use in crucial situations, and they did not fail him this time. They absorbed their casualties and drove a small hole right through the Siegfried, and then they widened it into a wedge. The First Battalion followed close behind and then turned to the left to wipe out the pillboxes on the north from the rear. The bulk of the Third Battalion then turned right toward Brandscheid, a fortified town astride the Siegfried almost a mile to the south. Meanwhile, the Second Battalion, which included my E Company, kept straight ahead through the gap for over a half mile, then fanned out in two-company width, facing southeast across some open fields.

The First Battalion found it rather easy to take pillboxes from the rear, and they took many prisoners as they headed northward. They advanced as far as reasonable, perhaps a thousand yards, and then consolidated their position.

Our job in the Second Battalion was even easier. We simply set up a good defense and waited for the enemy to attack, which he failed to do, and that was a break for us.

The Third Battalion moved smoothly southward until they hit the heavily defended village of Brandscheid and a very tough Kraut battalion. The battle raged on for the next two weeks, and Brandscheid never did fall. This little burg was circled by pillboxes, and it just wasn’t worth the cost of storming it, so Colonel Teague’s men kept plunking away at it to keep it contained.

Meanwhile, the First Battalion was hit by a very heavy counterattack and had to fight desperately for a couple of days to keep from being overrun.

We in the Second Battalion were alerted for a probable counterattack, but none ever materialized. We did detect a convoy of Germans moving eastward on the Sellerich road, and I led a patrol to within thirty yards of the road to confirm that they were, indeed, Jerries, but nothing was ever done to try and stop them. I found out later that we were really handicapped by lack of supplies, having only enough gas to move each vehicle in the division five miles, and we had only one day’s supply of ammunition.

Colonel Lanham had asked division headquarters to permit him to continue the attack right on through to the Rhine, but Division did not have the supplies to support him, and we lacked support from other units for the same reason. Colonel Lanham claimed, and history proved, that no German unit was strong enough to stop us short of the Rhine. It’s hard to imagine how many lives might have been saved if our troops had reached the Rhine in September, instead of six months later in March. This assumes, of course, that neighboring divisions would have kept up with us so that we would not have been cut off. I feel sure they could have if we had all been given the supplies we needed.

Eisenhower himself made the decision, allowing only what he called “pencillike” thrusts through the Siegfried. We can only hope this was not a major error.

We really did not fault the quartermaster people for our supply shortages, because their lines stretched clear back to Cherbourg and they were just beginning to open up Le Havre. There were ugly rumors, however, that Patton’s Third Army was getting more than its share, sometimes even through pirating. It was also believed that the High Command favored Patton, not expecting that Patton would
be stopped cold in the Metz-Nancy region, nor that Hodges’s First Army would make such tremendous progress. Too bad hindsight always seems to beat foresight.

Meanwhile, we were still in defensive positions deep behind the Siegfried with our E Company on the extreme right. We were about a half mile east of the Siegfried, at the edge of some woods which overlooked a valley just below Sellerich. As the sun came up we had a clear view of the rolling farmland generally to our southeast. In a little while we found ourselves with what amounted to grandstand seats for a remarkable panorama of war.

Another battalion, perhaps from the Ninetieth Division, moved into the woods about a quarter mile to our right, east of Brandscheid. Soon they began an attack eastward, directly toward Sellerich. They jumped off with two companies abreast and headed down through the valley that led to the hills around Sellerich. The rifle companies were leading, supported by tanks along each side of the Sellerich road.

At first everything went exactly by the book as tank-infantry teams performed beautifully, wiping out pockets of Germans in their path. We could see every move and hear the continual clatter of the tanks’ machine guns and the crack of rifles. We could even hear the excited shouts of men in combat.

Maybe it was because we were not used to being spectators, but somehow all the action seemed unreal, almost as though it were a training film. Each unit performed smoothly; they were in full control as the enemy melted away.

Then unexpectedly German mortars and artillery, which had not been evident up to that point, suddenly came down hard on the infantry and tanks as they reached a small exposed area at a crossroad. There was no cover from the terrible barrage; the Germans knew the exact range and
obviously had been waiting for the Americans to reach that point.

The American tanks turned and raced back toward the woods to escape the slaughter, panicking the riflemen, who chased after the tanks in confusion. The retreat was an uncontrolled stampede, and a great many casualties were left where they fell. Even at our safe distance we all felt sick. It could so easily have been us.

It had taken about forty-five minutes for the tank-infantry teams to reach the crossroads in the low ground west of Honthiem, and the entire gain had been wiped out in less than five minutes. Dead and wounded lay all over the fields, and the officers were fighting desperately to regain control of the survivors. They were now all back in the woods where the attack had begun almost an hour before. Perhaps the Germans were short on ammo, too, since they did not follow up their victory by dropping more artillery in the woods.

The whole disheartening episode was at least a lesson in the naked power of artillery and its effective use. The Germans had destroyed an attack without committing any of their tanks or infantry. The results could have been much worse if they had followed up with more artillery.

Our company abruptly had some major changes in officer personnel. Our executive officer was transferred out, and the company commander, First Lieutenant Toles, who had not fully recovered from earlier wounds, stepped down to the executive position. We received a new company commander, Captain Arthur Newcomb, who had been on the battalion staff since before I had joined the outfit in July of 1944. He was one of the officers who landed with the regiment on D day. We felt lucky to get him.

During the rest of the day our artillery forward observer (FO) managed to fire some rounds at the German positions we could see in the hills around Sellerich. He timed the
shells to explode just over the heads of his targets, and the airbursts looked to be very effective. It was the first time I had seen them in use. Later in the day we watched a long line of German ambulances pick up wounded in that area. Our forward observer had to cease firing after a while, however, because he ran out of ammunition, and he was pretty disgusted.

During the evening of the day on which we witnessed the slaughter of the other battalion in the low ground between Honthiem and Sellerich, we were alerted for an attack in that area the next morning. Then we were all told to get a good night’s rest because we would be jumping off in the attack early in the morning! How do you forget such carnage while trying to rest up to repeat it?

At the first sign of dawn I ate a hurried K-ration breakfast, which I warmed over the wax-paper carton it came in, and then joined Captain Newcomb and the other officers for a briefing. The attack plan was for E Company to lead the way, with the other companies following in column behind us. We were to swing wide to the left and hit the Germans from the flank. At least we didn’t have to follow the same route those people had taken the day before, and we wouldn’t be surprised by Kraut artillery.

I called my sergeants together, brought them up-to-date, and had them get their men ready to move out. Then one of my most experienced men crawled out of his foxhole, got to his feet, and fell in a heap. His body shook with convulsions; he was a total wreck and had to be evacuated. Apparently the stress and worry in anticipation of our attack, after witnessing the terrifying slaughter the day before, was too much for him.

Captain Newcomb apologized because he had only one map for the entire company, and it was a 1914 edition. He warned us to be cautious because he was sure the roads and trails in the wooded area and other landmarks had changed
since 1914. He then told me to lead off with my platoon and said that he would be in close contact by radio.

The company moved out in column of platoons. We picked our way cautiously through the thick stand of pines on the right side of the road. These pines had probably been planted shortly after World War I and were about thirty feet tall. The underbrush was thick and tangled, and it was enough trouble to struggle through without worrying about the enemy. What had been a dreary mist turned into a drizzle and soon became a downpour as we slapped and pushed our way through the wet branches.

We had worked our way ahead for about a mile when Captain Newcomb radioed us to hold in place because there was some confusion over our route. So we stopped where we were and sat down to rest with our backs against trees. In about ten minutes Captain Newcomb plowed his way up through the brush, looked at his map, and told us to continue on again in the same direction.

I got the men on their feet and signaled the two scouts to move out ahead. Private First Class Crocker acknowledged with a wave. He and his partner stood up and immediately opened fire across the road to their left. The second scout emptied the eight-round clip in his M-l so fast it seemed almost like a machine gun. Then he turned and ran like the devil for the rear while steady old Crocker crouched in place, watching the road.

The second scout told me they had spotted several Germans in the road not ten feet ahead of them when they stood up. The Germans had not returned the fire, so they had been killed or had taken off.

The rest of us moved very cautiously and found three dead enemy soldiers in the road. Crocker was sure one or two others had gotten away. It looked as though we had been lucky enough to spot a German patrol just before they saw us.

But as soon as we got up to move we were flattened by vicious machine gun fire. I was pinned down behind a small mound of earth while bullets whipped into the dirt in front of and just over my head. My knapsack got torn up, and the canteen on my hip took a direct hit and leaked water all over my back and legs. It was difficult to just lie there and not try to get up and run for cover.

My radio was not touched, so I called our mortar squad to set up and fire a few rounds. I couldn’t see the Kraut machine guns, so we had to guess about where they were from the sound. It took a bit of adjusting, but after a few rounds we heard the wild screams of German wounded, and the machine gun was silent. Apparently we had achieved a lucky hit.

After throwing in a few extra rounds to make sure, we were able to get up and continue our advance. I judged this to have been a small forward outpost, and I wondered just how far out the Germans were from their lines.

We had made about another half mile into the woods without opposition when Captain Newcomb again ordered us to halt. This time he came running up with the map in his hand and told me we were about a half mile off course, and he said that he wanted us to make a sharp left and head up the hill through the woods to the next road and then turn right. According to the old map, the next road was much better than the present one, which was not much more than a fire trail.

The left turn led us up a long hill deep into woods thick with tall white pines. We moved as quietly as we could, and our steps were muffled by the wet pine needles that were matted on the ground. They even seemed to absorb the downpour of cold rain. Crocker was the single lead scout, since the other man had had enough for one day. He worked his way up the hill about thirty yards ahead of me, with the platoon following close behind. Suddenly he
dropped to the ground and waved me forward cautiously. I crawled up to him over the wet ground, and he pointed a few yards ahead to a collection of German rifles, machine guns, and other gear leaning up against trees.

We lay quietly and could neither see nor hear any other sign of the Germans, who had apparently abandoned their weapons. The trees had thinned out there, and through the murky light I was able to make out a clearing about one hundred yards ahead. I told Crocker to keep low and go take a look. Some of the men had moved up close behind me, and we covered Crocker as he crawled forward through the rain.

Crocker soon reached the edge of the woods and motioned me to crawl up beside him. Then he carefully pointed to a clutch of Germans standing around a shelter that was tied to a wide, bushy pine tree. They were only about forty yards in front of us across the road. We could see several groups of them all huddled up, trying to take shelter from the pouring rain.

I couldn’t conceive how blockheaded or green those troops might be, leaving their weapons a good hundred yards away. They were sitting ducks on a pond in the rain, with no idea we were near. Maybe the rain had blotted out the sound of gunfire less than a hour before, yet only a half mile from them. Perhaps they thought the downpour had canceled the war for the day.