Battered Bastards of Bastogne

by George Koskimaki

  The men of the medical facility were on the trucks for several days, moving during daylight hours and being holed up at night in pig sties, barnyards and farm buildings. Later, they joined a larger group of prisoners from the 106th Infantry Division on the march into Germany.

  CHAPTER 5

  DECEMBER 20

  Withdrawal from Noville

  Beginning his first full day as commander of 1st Battalion of the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, Major Robert Harwick was pondering what daylight would bring, what with the intermittent nightlong shelling and the sounds of enemy tank movement out to the battalion front. Those minutes before dawn, with each alone in the dark, thinking the thoughts which would be driven from the mind in daylight for fear of discovery by the men next to you. Harwick explains:42

  Those private minutes—the thought of death, that goes with a shrug. The fear, not of the enemy nor his weapons, but of yourself. What will the fellows think when this is over? Will I be one to give? By God! Not me! And that passes.

  How is it at home? I’m glad they don’t know the spot I am in. It is about midnight there—all in bed.

  Glad I wrote that letter last night. Wish I had some coffee.

  Hope those tanks are all set. Wish we had more than six—at least there are nine tank destroyers. But those Krauts sure have a pot full—tanks all over the place.

  So it went, thoughts tumbling, but always returning to the attack we knew was coming. The men were tense, staring out into the darkness. They could see nothing, but it was too quiet. The time rolled past the daylight hour and still it was dark. It was unreal. At least you could count on nature being the same. Then, as the black slowly melted into a clinging gray, we saw the reason—FOG!

  With the first visibility came the warning shriek of approaching shells. As the men ran for cover, the barrage was upon us. Smoke and dust added to the fog. To see beyond twenty yards was impossible. A warning call came from the outposts. They could hear the German tanks moving.

  The battle took on a weird aspect. The country became a confusion of clanking treads, fleeting glimpses of dark hulks and dirty yellow flashes as the tanks fired into the town.

  Formations disappeared and each engagement was a tank and a few men probing here, trying there. Our tank destroyers just held position and, at the range of those few yards, the effects of their fire was murderous. Yet the fog was a mixed blessing. German units slipped past and through our defenses. One was knocked out just fifty feet from the Command Post by one of the partially disabled tanks which had been placed in front of the building for protection. Firing just rolled on and on. Part of the church steeple came down with a crash of dust and large stones bounded down the street.

  Out on the “A” Company front, PFC. Donald Straith had an opportunity to view this part of the battalion perimeter with the arrival of daylight:43

  When morning came, I was able to survey our position. We were in a small, roughly rectangular pasture area. Through the hedge in front of me, I could see that the field sloped gently downward toward our observation post of the previous night, then leveled out before slowly rising toward the fog-shrouded ridge that had been our original objective. On either side, a roadway angled into the distance. To our right were walled gardens of the village houses. To the left of us were a fence and hedge, beyond which another pasture dropped a dozen feet or so to the main road. The forward corner of the pasture dipped out of my sight, although I assumed it provided access from the road. Beyond this point, the upper story of a building by the road blocked my view. The hedge to the left curved behind us and, beyond it, I could see more houses and the opposite side of yesterday’s cemetery wall.

  From beyond the building on the road to our left, we once again heard the sounds of tanks. As they seemed to be almost at the hidden corner of our field, I exclaimed, more from the need to release my pent-up emotions than from actual intention, ‘If they come in here, I’m going to run like hell!’ Our corporal, Jerry Janes, strode over, oblivious to the target he presented, and shouted, ‘Like hell you will! You’ll stay in your goddamn hole!’ He returned to his hole. I stayed in mine and the tanks stayed on the road.

  All night we had heard shells passing overhead. Some, which we thought were German 88’s, went by with a sudden ‘whish-h-h’ while others, higher up, made more of a ‘whush-whush-whush’ sound. But now, a new sound joined the assortment as our artillery dropped several salvos nearby and the grinding of tanks beyond our sight abruptly diminished. This was followed shortly by the almost undetectable ‘psst’ of mortar rounds as the Germans zeroed in on our position. Frankly, I was terrified. Attempting to flatten myself in my slit trench, I now realized it was not quite long enough and my feet stuck partly out the end. Burying my face in the bottom of the hole, I tried desperately to squeeze all of me into my helmet. Explosions shook the ground and one very close one blew the dirt around my hole back in on my head.

  I lay there rigid until there was a lull in the shelling and then gingerly poked my head out. To my right, I saw wisps of smoke curling from a hole next to mine where two of our men had dug in together. My immediate thought was, ‘My God! They’ve both been blown to bits!’ Later, I learned that, moments before the barrage, one of them had taken the other to the aid station for treatment of a wound.

  As our position was in increasing danger, we were told to go through a hole in the hedge and crawl along it to where it ended at a concrete outbuilding behind a house. On reaching that point, I encountered a soldier crouching in a shell hole while behind him lay the corpse of another, its face obscured by dirt. I asked who it was and his companion said, ‘Hodge, he got it last night!’ (Pvt. Howard P. Hodge is listed as KIA on December 19, 1944.) The name was unfamiliar to me and, instead of being sickened by my first sight of violent death, I felt numb and rather detached. Not having known the man made it easier for me to get him out of my mind and concentrate on my own safety.

  Because fire was now being directed into the yards of the adjoining houses, someone told us to return to our previous position. Lying on our stomachs, four of us inched back along the German side of the hedge. As we wormed our way toward the opening, mortar shells once again began falling slightly down the slope from us. We flattened ourselves even more as fragments flew over our heads. I clutched my rifle tightly to my side, telling myself as I did, ‘It’s not much protection but every little bit helps.’ From somewhere across the field, a machine gun began firing and, as more shells exploded, I felt something hit my hand. Thinking that a stone thrown up by one of the shell bursts had struck me, I looked in surprise at the bloody opening between my thumb and forefinger. Where my hand gripped the forestock of my rifle, there was now a hole dead center in the wood and in line with my heart. A machine gun bullet had jammed itself between the gun barrel and the operating rod. Momentarily staring dumbly at my now torn and blood-soaked glove, I thought, Cavanaugh isn’t going to want this back now.

  PFC. Steve Polander was another member of “A” Company experiencing his first combat in the early morning fight in the cemetery sector. He recalled the morning action:

  Just before daybreak, the shelling stops and down in the deep valley north of the village can be heard the rumble of German tanks coming up to clean out what’s left of us. An order is passed along to the group and at least ten men are picked for pre-dawn patrol. The men move towards the east, straight out from where I am dug in. No more than five minutes go by when fierce gunfire erupts a short distance away. Word comes back from the few men above that all were ambushed and killed.

  As we wait for the tanks approaching the top of the hill, to the north, in this cold, foggy morning of deadly silence, the fog seems to settle the thickest in the valley. As I look about, I see at least fifty tanks and half-tracks with flames flickering and shells exploding within. A nauseating smell of barbecued bodies drifts through the foggy breeze. About 80 yards away, I can see the tanks approach the top of the hill with a grinding, squeaking halt.

  At the l
ower part of the hill, where the tanks stopped, some men are dug in. I do not know how many. The hatch of one of the tanks opens and we are cursed at, but rifle fire soon makes the Kraut drop the hatch.

  The first tank slowly enters the positions of the men at the lower end. Death struggle screams can be heard. The men move around the tank as it turns, firing blindly. With a few bazooka shots, the tank is stopped and some rifle fire is heard.

  The second tank then starts to make its entry. With no resistance, it starts to make its move toward me and the red barn. Helpless, we watch so as not to give away our position. The tank continues to move slowly toward the front side of the barn at an angle from me. A Sherman tank starts up and moves to the corner of the barn. As it locks the left track, it moves forward a few yards, stops and faces the German tank about 30 yards away. At point blank range, they tear into the hull of each other. The American tank skids back a few feet on each impact. Three times they tear into each other. The Sherman starts smoking, flaming and then explodes. It seems like seconds later the Tiger does likewise. Neither hatch opens as we lay ready. The Third tank then backs off the hill.

  Little did he know there were but a few of us left. The clear signal is given. As we walk down towards the barn, there are about ten of us, one in total shock walking like a zombie.

  We board the only other tank we had up there. It takes us back down the hill where we came from.44

  PFC. Robert Flory had been sent to a forward listening post with his sergeant, Lee Rogers, and the rest of the squad. They had spent the night in a barn with an enemy tank parked outside the closed double doors. Flory adds to his story:

  Just about daybreak, we took off at a dead run in full view of that tank and made it back to the defense line without a shot being fired. I suppose the tank crew was asleep.

  Before 1st Battalion went in on the attack at Noville on the 19th, the “B” Battery, 321st Glider Field Artillery Battalion forward observer team was sent to another battalion at Foy. However, the next morning they were sent back to Noville. PFC. William “Jay” Stone describes the action:

  Early on the morning of the 20th, we were ordered to return to Noville and rejoin the 1st Battalion. The Germans were trying to take Noville by attacking from the east and northeast. When the initial effort failed, the enemy continued to attack Noville while attempting to by-pass the village to the north and south. The Germans moving around Noville to the north were meeting with more success than were their fellows moving south of the village. To the north, there were no American troops. To the south were the 501st and the 506th. The enemy was trying to slip between them and the 1st Battalion in Noville and the going was slow. Within our forward observer party, we knew nothing of this. We only knew that we had to get fire on the enemy north of Noville. To accomplish this, Lt. Canham selected a stone barn on the northeastern outskirts of the village as our OP. He and Bill Plummer went to the second floor from which they could observe through an open window. I set the radio up at the other end of the barn, just outside a door on the first floor, and ran a wire to Canham and Plummer so that we could send fire missions to the Fire Direction Center (FDC) of the 321st in Savy.

  At this time, Noville was taking a beating. The Germans were pounding the village (and us) with everything they had. The piercing whistle of incoming projectiles followed by the sounds of their explosions assaulted our ears. Their blasts buffeted our bodies. The sharp, bitter smell of the exploding powder invaded our nostrils. Buildings were blown apart. Wounded were walking or being carried to the battalion aid station. If the enemy could take the village quickly, he would have a straight road into Bastogne provided that he could break through the other battalions of the 506th. Still, the riflemen of the 1st Battalion and the men of Team Desobry, aided by the fires of the 321st, held. For now, there was to be no road through Noville to Bastogne for those Germans. They had to flow around the village in order to continue their advance to the west. The defense of Noville gave the other battalions of the 506th time to occupy and improve their positions astride the Bastogne-Noville road, just south of Foy.

  Despite the vigorous German attack, from the narrow perspective of our FO party, the battle seemed to be going well when Plummer called me on the telephone and said that a tank shell had just hit alongside the window from which Lt. Canham was observing and that Canham had been hit. I grabbed the platoon aid man and went upstairs. He said that Canham was dead. I reported this to our FDC which urged Plummer and me to remain in Noville. We, of course, had no intention of doing other than that and were a bit put off by the urging from FDC. Plummer took over for Canham and we continued to direct the fires of the 321st.

  During the first hours of combat on the 19th, before the 502nd Regiment had its initial skirmishes with the enemy, T/5 George Whitfield, one of the medevac jeep drivers from the 326th Medical Company, had been sent to do evacuation work at 1st Battalion of the 506th at Noville. Whitfield describes the experience he had on the morning of the 20th when he took a load of casualties from Noville to Bastogne:

  In the early part of the siege, I worked with the 506th. I drove out to Noville to evacuate some casualties and several people climbed on my jeep with my two stretchers. There were seven of us. Between Noville and Foy, as we topped a rise, we saw an enemy patrol ready to cut the highway. I immediately put the jeep in second gear without using the clutch or taking my foot off the gas. I happened to look at the speedometer (it was a straight road)—it showed 55 mph. so we got through. I reported this at 506th headquarters. I tried to get back to Noville but in Foy I got stopped by the enemy occupying the road.

  The situation had become critical for 1st Battalion. Major Robert Harwick, the commander, describes the situation as the battle for Noville raged into the morning and mid-day hours.45

  Our aid station was full and we opened another cellar. It was obvious that our losses were making gaps in our line, which could not be plugged. The command post personnel, switchboard operators, clerks—also slightly wounded men, were sent to the companies.

  There was a lull, but we could see the tanks reforming. We had no communications with Bastogne. A half-track, which contained radio equipment that wouldn’t work, was loaded with several badly wounded men who obviously were going to die without attention, was ordered to try to force their way back to Bastogne. The message I sent was ‘Casualties heavy—no more armor-piercing ammunition and medical supplies’ The vehicle left but did not return.

  Major Harwick missed out on what actually happened to the first halftrack that was sent out with wounded. This move had occurred before the withdrawal had begun. Captain John T. Prior, the medical officer for the 20th Armored Infantry (part of Team Desobry) was closer to the action which involved the half-track attempting to break through to Bastogne. Prior relates:46

  We did load four patients into a half-track at one point and just as it lumbered off, it received a direct hit from a tank and burst into flames. The four patients were unloaded and returned to the aid station; this, under the gaze of the German tank commander.

  PFC. William J. Stone, of the forward observer team of the 321st Glider Field Artillery Battalion, describes how critical the situation was without adequate communication to the command elements in Bastogne. The enemy build-up between Noville and Foy had been increasing throughout the morning. Stone continues his story:

  By 1:00 p.m., the 1st Battalion had lost contact with the headquarters of the 506th and our FO radio was the only means of communication between the two. The liaison officer from the 321st at the HQ of the 506th had a radio in the FDC net and he relayed messages from the 506th HQ to our FO party. We then gave them to the 1st Battalion. It became obvious to the division commander, General McAuliffe, that the 1st Battalion and Team Desobry, while they were holding, would soon be surrounded and so he ordered Colonel Sink to with-draw them. At 1:15 p.m., the order for withdrawal came down to us on the artillery radio and we relayed it to the commander of the 1st Battalion.

  The German attack aro
und the southern side of Noville was rapidly becoming more successful. Because of this, the Noville force was in danger of being cut off from the rest of the 506th and so there was little time to plan the withdrawal. Shortly after it began, we came under observation and direct artillery fire by the Germans on the high ground to the east. By this time, we were traveling with the battalion commander. We told him that we could get artillery fire from the 321st on the enemy position. He told us to do so. We sent the fire mission down and the fire was on the way.

  Battalion commander Robert Harwick had a brief radio contact with his regiment during mid-morning but communications were sporadic. He related:

  About 10 o’clock, we briefly contacted the regiment by radio. I was afraid to tell our true situation over the air and the message we received was ‘Hold at all costs’.

  That cost began to mount then, with a tank attack right down the road. Part of our infantry positions were lost, but the tank destroyers got their 20th tank, which burned at the edge of town setting fire to one of the few whole buildings.

  The situation was now so acute that I called in the company and tank commanders. Another attack—surely, two—would end the affair for us. We drew up plans to fight a withdrawal. A jeep with two wounded men and a messenger who volunteered was sent down the road. The message was to General McAuliffe. It just said, ‘We can hold out but not indefinitely’. There was no answer.

  The jeep incident just mentioned is related in more detail in an article written by Collie Small for the Saturday Evening Post.47

  … Finally, Captain Rennie Tye, of Memphis, Tennessee, volunteered to make a suicidal dash through the German-held town. Lying flat on the hood of a speeding jeep, with an automatic in his hand, Tye raced through Foy, firing until his ammunition was exhausted. One of two wounded men in the jeep was killed by a German machine gunner, but Tye was untouched.