If You Survive (6 page)

First was the fact that while training was based on leading a full-strength unit, in actual combat I found myself at about half strength, or less, much of the time. This makes a big difference in tactics, and I was forced to experiment as I went along—and this could have been tragic. Even a little training in understrength deployment would have helped.

Two other items I would have liked to have been at least introduced to in advance were how to recognize the onset of mental breakdown and what to do about it and how to replace leaders. My on-the-spot lessons showed me that seeing it happen is much different than simply hearing about it. I was convinced that all soldiers have a physical and emotional limit. The private who stepped in at once as sergeant made me wonder how many others might be able to handle a leader’s job if they got the chance or were forced into it.

My third day was now over, and I found we still had
nineteen men left of the original forty, the combat fatigue case being my only loss of the day. Nothing in this world could induce me to go through even a small part of it again, but I think I learned something about myself and about other people.

O
ur battalion was ordered to clear the Germans off a high ridge several miles long running parallel to the Villebaudon-Tessy sur Vire road. Other units attached to us, and thus making a combat force, were a company of seventeen Sherman tanks, each with two .30-caliber machine guns and a 75mm (or three-inch) gun. Supporting us were a platoon of tank destroyers with .50-caliber machine gun and 90mm gun, plus artillery and mortars, and a cannon company with four 105mm howitzers.

Fortunately for our peace of mind, we had no inkling this routine assignment would turn out to be one of the most disastrous of the entire war. By nightfall, nine of our seventeen tanks would be demolished, and the infantry would be almost wiped out.

Our ruination was the famous German 88, the incredible 88mm artillery piece. Its power was awesome. A direct hit did not bounce off the sloping four-inch solid steel armor plate front of a Sherman tank;
it went clear through and out the back
. I saw smoking tanks ripped through from
front to back by a single armor-piercing 88. Rarely did any of the crew survive, for along with the shell itself were the ricocheting chunks of tank metal it tore off, not to mention the inevitable concussion and internal bleeding. Fires also made it difficult to rescue the wounded as shells inside exploded from the heat. Tanks were often deathtraps for the crew.

Rifle companies F and G led off to the right of the road, probing cautiously toward the top of the ridge. The road had a gradual upward slope for about five hundred yards. E Company, minus my platoon, and H Company followed the two lead companies. My platoon trailed the two lead companies, holding about one hundred yards to their right rear as protection against a possible flank attack.

Suddenly the Germans opened up on the forward rifle companies with rifles, machine guns, mortars, and artillery. The exposed infantry instantly hit the ground and dove for any cover available, returning the fire as soon as they got into position. Our artillery was getting in quite a few rounds also as we could hear it going out over our heads.

The calm hillside exploded into a full-scale battle. Quick pinpoint flashes of small-arms fire blinked along the bottom of the hedges. The sudden bright flash of bursting shells flowered among the dark green helmeted shapes of the infantry. Worst of all on the nerves was the endless pounding of the noise, the thundering blasts of artillery, and the angry staccato of machine guns.

The Germans were close on our right flank, and they were firing just as hard as those on the battalion front. Apparently they had been pushed aside by the battalion’s advance, and they stayed out there and let us parade across their front as though it were a shooting gallery.

I moved my platoon out to the right behind a thick
hedge, along with five tanks and two tank destroyers spaced out alongside my men. We opened fire on the Germans some two hundred yards away across the flat top of the ridge. They did not let up, but at least we were giving them plenty to keep them busy. Our concentrated fire should have been enough to drive them off the ridge, but one of those sorry accidents of fate turned the tide against us, almost wiping us out. Suddenly we were caught between two fires—the Germans to our front and our own efficient artillery to the rear.

It seems one of the prearranged signals with our artillery backfired. Red smoke was a signal for our artillery to open fire on the smoke. As luck would have it, someone dropped red smoke right on our position. Before we could move we began to catch hell from our artillery as well as the Germans.

Artillery and mortar shells were dropping on us from all sides, and we had no choice but to dive for cover. Some crawled under the nearest hedge, while others tried to get close to or under tanks to use them as shields.

Few things are as terrifying as the target area of an artillery barrage. You cannot think, cannot talk, and there is no place to go. You must fight your instincts to get up and run. All you can do is hang on and hope the shells will miss you or the barrage will end.

Tanks and tank destroyers were the exception. They
had
to move out of there. The tanks’ overhead hatches had to be closed against the artillery, and that practically blinded the drivers. All they could see through the driver’s slits was a narrow horizontal strip directly to the front. There was no view at all of the ground close in front of the tank.

The withdrawing tanks thus could not see some of the men on the ground, and the men, because of the overpowering din of the explosions, could not hear the tanks coming.
Two of my men were crushed by the maneuvering tanks. I told myself they were already dead from the shelling.

Another of the men on the ground next to me was killed instantly by a mortar shell that landed on his back. His buddy and I were splattered with flesh and blood but were not touched by shrapnel. His body must have absorbed the shell.

The survivor broke in panic and ran wildly past me. I tackled him instinctively, but he was a big man, and he dragged me along for a few yards. I managed to hold on and kept talking to him quietly. He quickly regained control, and just about then the barrage ended.

While our single medic manfully attended the wounded, I collected the few men still able to stand, and we resumed our positions along the flank. This was typical hedgerow country, with many small hills and gullies and occasional gaps in the hedge. The Germans were on the ridgeline along our course, and they were able to follow our every move. We advanced as carefully as possible while taking cover behind the hedges, hoping they might not spot us; then we rushed across the gaps.

Our tanks kept out of sight below us, coming up to help us only when the hedges were high enough to hide them.

At one time, while I was lying on the ground beside one of our tanks waiting for the men to get into position, I suddenly got the urge to move—and did crawl ahead some ten feet closer to the hedge. There was no purpose in this move, just a compulsion. The next moment, a machine gun cut up the very ground I had just left. What impelled me to move I’ll never know. This lifesaving hunch might have had the same source as the one I had received just three days before when, for no particular reason, I ordered the already overloaded men to carry extra grenades—those grenades that served us well while we ran the gauntlet the
night the blazing tank lit up the road. Perhaps there is some unknown sense we call upon subconsciously.

The main body of the battalion had been forced to stop, and during the breather I got a chance to take stock. I found I now had six of the original forty men, two of the original five tanks, and both of the tank destroyers. The rest of the battalion was also in rough shape and was almost stripped of officers; I was the only officer left of the original six in E Company.

A tank destroyer, incidentally, has tracks and armored sides like a tank but is completely open at the top. This gives the crew a clear view of the enemy targets, but, of course, no overhead protection. The great thing about the TD was its 90-mm gun, the only one we had capable of knocking out the big German Tiger tank and its six inches of armor plate. Our Shermans and their 75s could handle the Mark IV medium German tank but was no match for the Tiger. The TD was a must on our team.

At one time during a lull I happened to be standing beside a TD, studying the enemy position through my field glasses. The TD captain was doing the same thing from his open turret above me. Suddenly he yelled, “Hit the dirt!” Instantly my men and I dove for the hedge; an 88 high explosive (HE) shell burst on the front of the TD, and its shrapnel flew everywhere.

The captain had seen the quick flash of the German gun, and he reacted at once. His shout gave us a split second that probably saved our lives, for the 88 travels faster than sound, and we never would have ducked if he had not yelled.

As it was, the shell had exploded only five or six feet from where we lay in the dirt. None of my men was hurt, and I got off with only a splitting headache—and I couldn’t hear too well for a few hours.

The captain immediately moved his TD back down the
hill out of sight, and the other TD and tanks also moved. He was almost in shock from the concussion, but he refused to be evacuated. His TD was not damaged, for it had shed the HE shell. If the 88 had been loaded with armor piercing (AP), the TD would have been ripped apart.

A few minutes later a battalion of infantry from another division came up to relieve what was left of our battered battalion. A captain from this new unit came over to me and asked me to fill him in.

I pointed across the small open gully ahead to where the frontline riflemen were taking cover behind a hedge and told him the enemy were directly in front of them. I also showed him the hedge on the ridge two hundred yards to our right where the Krauts could observe our every move and had plenty of machine guns, mortars, artillery, and 88s, and I told him they hit us hard whenever we crossed an open space.

Finally, I suggested that, everything considered, the best route for his men to take up to the frontline riflemen would be a short detour to the left behind a small rise that avoided the open gully. Possibly the captain was preoccupied with other problems, or he didn’t completely understand my suggestion; or he might not have seen enough combat to appreciate what the Germans could do. He thanked me politely—then led his men, followed by another company, into the exposed area across the gully.

To my astonishment, the Germans did not fire on them, and I began to wonder if they might have pulled out. I quickly found that I, too, had underestimated their shrewdness. They had been watching the new battalion, and they guessed their mission. So as soon as the new rifle companies were mixed in with the companies they were relieving and both were somewhat confused and exposed, the Krauts commenced shelling the entire area with very heavy artillery and mortar fire. They knew the exact range, having
just withdrawn from that location, and they opened up with all available weapons in a very fierce barrage, right on target. Exploding shells flashed everywhere and raised much dust and smoke. In wild panic, the men dodged about, screaming, and headed for the rear. Their eyes were wild with fright, and tears streamed down their contorted faces. They were in complete panic.

We stayed in our position on the flank and watched helplessly, our stomachs churning. We watched the desperate officers of the new battalion as they tried frantically to regain control. They stood at gaps in the hedgerow behind us and intercepted their men as they rushed by. We could hear them shouting out where they wanted each company to collect. About half an hour passed, the men milling around in the rear, sorting themselves into companies. During this time they were very vulnerable to further attack, but they were fortunate. In a short time the shelling tapered off enough to allow vehicles to move. All available ambulances and medical teams moved up to get the wounded taken care of quickly. Every vehicle able to carry a stretcher was used. For over an hour we watched ambulances, jeeps, light tanks, and half-tracks hauling out those wounded unable to walk. The Germans also must have been watching but did not fire again. I found out why later.

During all this blasting by the Germans I saw no return fire at all from our cannon or artillery. Probably all the forward observers, or their radios, had been knocked out. Our Air Force wasn’t around either, but they probably were busy helping Patton’s tanks in the breakout.

When things began to quiet down and seemed under control, a captain from the battalion staff of this new unit came over and cautioned me that we might be in for a heavy counterattack soon. I agreed, for I had anticipated this very thing. He went on to say that if my men would stay to help, he’d see that we all got hot chow. We then had
a total of about thirty men, including the crews of the tanks and TDs and some stragglers from the company.

At this point food of any sort held little interest for us, but since we had no orders to fall back, I told him we would stay until ordered to move. Shortly afterward a major in a sharp, clean uniform with the Fourth Division patch on his shoulder came walking up to me from the rear all alone. He informed me that he was Major Walker, our new battalion commander.
^*
He told me briefly and simply that Major Drake had been a casualty in the last barrage. I had never met Major Drake and did not know how or if Lieutenant Colonel Lum Edwards, the commander when I joined the battalion, had become a casualty.

Major Walker asked me several questions about the recent action and the enemy location and potential, and I held back nothing—including the warnings about going straight out into the gully. He nodded his understanding, told me to stay in position until further orders, and took off for the front along the route that detoured the gully.