If You Survive

by George Wilson

  Surprisingly, he readily admitted it and even went on to describe how they had spent a few hours the night before planning the charade. It seems they had both been in plays at college and had had some training. In spite of myself, I had to admit the first guy was quite an actor. I had to marvel at his talent in producing such big tears and in shaking convulsively so realistically. He was every bit the equal of M*A*S*H*’s Corporal Klinger.

  I got rid of the big guy quickly, telling him I would have him shot on the spot if he gave me any more trouble. He dried his tears at once and promised he and his buddy would do their jobs.

  This was my first encounter with an overt attempt to fake battle fatigue, and instead of seeing the humor or allowing for circumstances all I felt was a sickening shock. Oh, I knew that everyone had a breaking point, but I had just assumed that everyone naturally was doing his best up to that point. This may seem a bit naive, but I do think it was the way most of us felt. Most of the men I knew in World War II seemed to accept their role to fight for home and country without complaint. I don’t recall a single person who questioned our involvement. We were not gung ho but quietly went about our duties. Perhaps that is why the occasional shirker stood out.

  I have witnessed real emotional breakdown under the enormous physical and mental pressure of combat, and for those cases I have the most heartfelt sympathy. It is awful to see men go into convulsions, froth at the mouth, gibber incoherently. Many later responded to rest and treatment, and some were returned to the front—time after time. Some of the poor guys never did make it back to normalcy, even long after the war. But I knew of only two men who ever made a completely successful return to the battlefield.

  Our Thanksgiving dinner was hand-carried up to us by men from the service company. Our cooks had put together giant turkey sandwiches, and they were a treat compared to K-ration Spam, even though we, of course, received none of the usual fancy trimmings. It wasn’t all celebration, however, for we learned that some of the food carrying party had been hit on the way up. Though this happened all the time, we never quite learned to accept it. We had been fighting in the Hürtgen Forest for twelve days, the worst combat I had yet encountered.

  Late in the afternoon of November 29, 1944, I was ordered to get my men ready to move out and to report at once to the battalion CP. This sounded like good news, for we had heard rumors that we were to be relieved.

  My runner and I picked our way a quarter of a mile back along the fire to trail to the big log-covered dugout Colonel Kenan used as his command post, and as soon as I entered I was struck by the thick gloom. Colonel Kenan, Captain Newcomb and Captain Toles all nodded at me gravely; no one was smiling. The colonel handed me a cup of coffee, as though to the condemned.

  Colonel Kenan wasted no time. “Wilson, I’ve got a tough job for your company tonight. E Company has been attacking Grosshau all day and they’re now pinned down in the open ground a couple hundred yards west of town. They have a lot of casualties and need help at once. Regiment insists we take Grosshau tonight in order to relieve E Company and also because possession of Grosshau is vital to tomorrow’s attack plans.”

  He went on to say that the balance of First Battalion was holding the high ground north of Grosshau and that they had their hands full just hanging on.

  The colonel continued in a quiet, calm voice: “Take your company northeastward along the edge of the woods to your left. Try to make contact with E Company as soon as possible. You may have to send in a patrol, because their radio is out.”

  So far this was not in the least attractive. A night patrol trying to get through to E Company could easily come unexpectedly upon other Americans, who frequently shot at sounds in the darkness. It was, nonetheless, our only choice.

  It seems to be the practice of commanders to use their most experienced men for the tough jobs. While this might appear unfair to the men asked to undertake repeated risks, the commander knows that using his best men gives him a better chance of getting a difficult job done with the least losses. Lieutenant Colonel Teague, our regiment’s most experienced battalion commander, was often called on for tough assignments by Colonel Lanham.

  Now I was being given a very difficult and dangerous assignment. I wondered how many such jobs I could survive. On reflection, I could think of five or six times I had been given tough assignments because of other jobs I’d performed successfully.* I do not blame anyone for this method of assignment; on several occasions I used it myself. But it does tend to put a high price on successful performance.

  “Now, Wilson,” Colonel Kenan went on in a fatherly manner, “I’m aware of your shortage of experienced officers and know it will be tough to go in at night with so many recruits, but we do need Grosshau tonight.”

  He paused a few seconds to let this sink in. “My first concern is E Company. If you could even get a radio to them, then perhaps we could make plans for getting in medical help. After that, remember—we absolutely must have Grosshau tonight. Then, with Grosshau and Kleinhau in our hands, we can use our tanks to take Gey, only a couple of miles northeast of Grosshau. We will be counting very heavily on you.”

  The colonel went on to tell me he would be moving his CP up as soon as possible. We checked watches, the current password, and the location of the forward aid station. I couldn’t help but notice that no mention at all was made of what our battalion’s three other companies would be doing while F Company was out there in attack. The Colonel wished me luck, and I took off quickly.

  Also absent from my orders were any suggestions on just how to get this job done. That was strictly up to me. I think I was flattered. As I walked back to the company with my runner I tried to get things straight in my own mind.

  I knew the location of all friendly forces from the positions clearly marked on the map. Many unknown items confronted me coldly. We were all aware that the Germans held Grosshau, but I had no idea of where their defensive line was and whether it extended outside the village.

  Night attacks are very difficult and usually require a lot of planning. To control and direct men so they shoot the enemy and not their own is a major concern. Exact directions and signals that are easily seen or heard must be worked out. Radios and other equipment must be secured and checked, passwords have to be assigned, the order of movement determined. With experienced men and officers who know them well, night attacks are still one of the worst assignments possible.

  We did not have any of the proper qualities, and time was also against us. Our only advantage was the ability to move in the darkness. I hoped my new officers would be able to follow instructions and that I would be able to stay in contact with them.

  When we got back to the company area, the officers had the men almost ready to move out, since they were also aware of the rumor about our being relieved and sent to the rear; I wasn’t eager to give them my news. I sympathized with them as I repeated our attack plan. Even in the twilight, their shock and dismay were apparent as the dangers and risks sank in. Slowly their faces returned to normal as they realized the necessity for the attack. Yet I could almost hear them saying to themselves, “Please, tell me this isn’t so, tell me it’s a nightmare.”

  I went over the big picture once again and then got down to details, keeping them brief. Control of the men is paramount. I had to appoint a leader for every six men. If there weren’t enough sergeants, I would have to appoint acting sergeants at once. I told the men to keep me informed by radio of everything they did. I admonished them that they wouldn’t be able to see much, so they had to be extra careful. They might run into friendlies, so they couldn’t shoot too quickly. If any man moved from where he was supposed to be, he was to check with me at once. We then double-checked passwords, watches, and radios.

  When I felt we were ready, I moved the company out in column of platoons, with the First Platoon leading. I went with the First Platoon, following the lead scouts along with the platoon leader. We passed through the front of E Company and headed northeast along t
he edge of the woods in the general direction of B Company.

  We had gone about three quarters of the way when our scouts abruptly fell flat and shouted out a challenge. The password that came back was delightfully welcome. By great good fortune, we had run into a small group of walking wounded from B Company itself, along with a couple of stretcher cases carried by German prisoners.

  The sergeant leading this small group had only a slight arm wound, and he asked us the way to the aid station. I gave him directions and then asked if he knew how we could contact B Company, since their radio was out. He said he could tell us, but that the route was pretty risky because of the open ground. So we tried the radio again at short range, but with no luck.

  Then I asked the sergeant if he’d go with one of my men and take a walkie-talkie to his captain, and he agreed to give it a try.

  It seemed only a few minutes later that we got through to B Company on the radio, and I was able to get the complete tactical situation from their captain. The Germans had several strong points to the captain’s front, making a frontal attack very hazardous. The captain said the Germans were well dug in and were also using the cellars in town for protection against our artillery. He had seen plenty of action on the west side of town where he was, and also on the northwest, but he didn’t know about the south. He hadn’t seen any action there and thought it might be our best approach, if we could get across the open ground.

  I thanked him for the very important information. Based on this, I told him we would enter the village from the south, near its southwest corner. He wished us luck and said they would try to hang on until help arrived.

  Using a flashlight under a couple of coats, I showed my officers the general layout on the map. From our position, about five hundred yards southwest of town, we would head due east until we were even with Grosshau, when we would turn northward. One platoon would lead off the attack and take the southwest corner of town and then continue northward in hopes of getting behind the German front-line defenders. The second platoon was to follow right behind and then turn to the right when it reached the north side, thus getting behind any defenders up there. The third platoon was to follow along until it got to the edge of town and then was to turn to the right and take care of the south side. There were only two blocks in the town, so we planned to mop up quickly. We hoped no civilians were in town. In the darkness, they could easily be killed by mistake.

  After another strong reminder to the officers to keep a close hand on their men and to keep me informed, we shoved off. The moon was not yet out, and far across the wide fields the ghostly shape of Grosshau seemed to beckon. We crouched low to reduce our silhouettes as we quickly filtered across the field. In a few minutes we came upon a small cemetery on the southwest corner, and, to my immense surprise and relief, not a shot had been fired. I couldn’t believe it.

  A few minutes later the lead platoon jumped off in attack. They came upon the Germans from the rear, as hoped, and took them completely by surprise. Apparently they were exhausted themselves and had given all their attention to their front. I couldn’t understand why they had had no defense at all on their south flank, but I was deeply grateful.

  The moon was still behind the clouds, and in the full darkness it was difficult to keep close track of the men as they went from house to house to root out the Krauts. We had only a few flashlights but still managed to find sometimes two and sometimes up to eight Germans sleeping in each cellar. Some of them didn’t show up until daylight.

  In a half hour we had the town secure, a job made easier because no civilians were found. I radioed Colonel Kenan, who was profuse in his congratulations as he told me the rest of the battalion would be moving up shortly. Meanwhile, I had set up my main defensive line on the eastern side of town, close to the important north-south road. We were prepared for a German counterattack.

  Around midnight I felt everything was completely secure, so I tried to get some rest in a nearby cellar. I was just getting comfortable and starting to reminisce about how incredibly lucky we had been to take Grosshau so easily when a messenger roused me to get me up to the front line.

  There I found Caldwell quite bothered and upset. The forward observer agitatedly pointed to the ridge out front and slightly southeast of town and asked if that didn’t look like Germans to me. With the help of field glasses and in the light of what was by then a very bright moon, I clearly made out a column of what could only be enemy soldiers. They were wearing German long coats and were marching in single file toward the northeast, about five hundred yards to our front.

  Caldwell complained that he had fired a couple of rounds at them but that when he had ordered a barrage his battery had turned him down. His commanding officer explained that his map showed that the hill was being held by Americans.

  So I trained the field glasses on the marchers once more, and in addition to their long coats I saw that they were carrying long-handled shovels, which our men rarely had. I then called Colonel Kenan and asked his permission to fire, since both the artillery FO and I were positive they were Germans.

  The colonel called me back in a few minutes and told me he had checked it out and had to deny permission. He said a unit from the Fifth Armored Infantry claimed they had men on that hill. I protested so heatedly that the colonel told me to send out a patrol to check firsthand.

  One of my new lieutenants led a small patrol across the road and along a small ditch toward the marching column, and I watched intently through my binoculars. They got within fifty yards of the marchers and radioed back that they were definitely Germans. He could see the cut of their helmets, their long coats and long shovels, and, most convincing, that they were carrying their wounded toward the German front. And they were speaking German.

  Colonel Kenan still was reluctant to let us fire, and he ordered me to send out another patrol—this time to the Fifth Armored, about a half mile south on the road to Kleinhau. The patrol leader returned in about an hour and reported that the CO there stated flatly that his men were dug in on that hill and that he was sending more people up there.

  I was frustrated and disgusted; Caldwell was furious. The Fifth Armored didn’t know how to read its map, but absolutely nothing could be done about it. I went back to sleep.

  My play-acting radiomen had performed surprisingly well that night—as radiomen. They made a few mistakes, but they got right into things and were pretty excited. They did their own jobs and even volunteered for extra work when we were in town. I was quite pleased.

  That night also was a pleasant surprise. The Germans let us sleep. There were no mortars, no artillery. And there were no counterattacks. I almost thought that this respite might be due to their not even knowing we had taken the town, for it had been quick and almost noiseless.

  Early next morning I was summoned to a meeting of company commanders at battalion headquarters, now in Grosshau, and our attack orders were very simple. Captain Toles would lead G Company on the right, and I would lead F Company on the left. We were to cross the open field and advance up the hill to our front, the same hill the Germans had marched along, immune to our artillery, the night before. After covering this ground, about eight hundred yards, we were to enter the woods and continue the attack eastward along a small fire trail, with F to the left of the trail and G to the right.

  Meanwhile, First Battalion would attack parallel to us and about a half mile to our left. Our objective was the far edge of the woods about two miles ahead, just west of Gey, gateway to the Cologne plains.

  Since friendly troops, namely the Fifth Armored Infantry, were supposed to be holding the hill ahead, we were to use the top of that hill as the line of departure for our attack. It all sounded simple enough, but to me it was too good to be true, because I couldn’t get out of my mind the suspicion that the Germans we had seen the night before might not have gone very far. I expressed my concern but was assured, albeit by people who had not been there with me and Lieutenant Caldwell, that everything was okay. />
  Captain Toles moved his company up next to mine, and we jumped off as planned. As we headed across the open slope I kept my men spread way out and watched the ridge line very sharply. It seemed odd to me that the American troops on the ridge were not at all visible from the rear as we approached. Our progress the first three hundred yards was almost a stroll, almost like a training exercise back in the States. “States?” What a strange word, and what an impossible distance in the past.

  Then it happened. The sky fell in, and we were in hell. German artillery and mortars, machine guns and rifles, and the murderously direct fire of the tank-mounted 88s all hit us at once. Everyone dove to the ground and then crawled to the nearest shell hole or depression. There was no time to think; we simply reacted. Our infantrymen began to fire back with their M-ls, and Lieutenant Caldwell was able to get some artillery on the Krauts, who were well dug in. Now we were paying for the inexcusable stupidity of that armored captain who couldn’t read a simple map.

  It may seem strange that our headquarters did not appear to believe our report of the enemy troops. One must keep in mind that a captain had stated his troops were on the hill. No one was willing to take the chance of shelling our own soldiers based on the night observations of another officer. If we had taken a prisoner, our story probably would have been accepted. However, when in doubt, the colonel had no choice but to refuse the request for artillery. Sad, but true; we had to overcome one more mistake.

  This battle raged on insanely, impossibly, for hours as we slowly moved forward. In my five months of considerable combat of all kinds I had never had to endure such a heavy, mercilessly accurate barrage of shells and bullets.

  The Kraut artillery forward observer was on the heights above us, and he had perfect vision of our every move. They had let us get so far in the open that we couldn’t pull back in daylight, and our only protection was the irregularities in the field itself. I know the FO had me spotted, because I had to keep moving around while trying to push the men forward, and I was marked by my radioman (and his antenna), who followed a few feet behind.