To me it was a most unaccustomed luxury to live in bare, unheated houses. It might be cold sleeping on the floor, but it was dry and out of the wind and weather. We also had kitchens with us, and regular hot meals were a sumptuous treat the new men did not yet appreciate.
Once all the men had been housed and fed, I decided it was time to look after myself. After three weeks of the dirtiest sort of existence in the Hürtgen and a long, nasty convoy, I was somewhat ripe. I asked the cooks if they could scare up some hot water for me. They scrounged around and came up with an old ten-gallon copper tub in which they heated water on the gas kitchen range.
They carried this marvelous bathing contraption upstairs into one of the vacant rooms. I dropped my old clothes in a heap and crammed as much of myself as possible into the warm water. Very soon the heat began to defrost my poor feet, and the pain became so severe that I had to get out of my wonderful tub and change quickly into clean clothes. Then I shaved off three weeks’ growth and went down the stairs, where I was met with the nervous stares of men who wondered who this resplendent new officer might be.
My feet were so swollen the next day that I couldn’t get my shoes on. They continued to hurt for an entire week. Colonel Kenan sent the battalion surgeon over to examine me. He rubbed my feet a little, gave me some Epsom salts, and told me to soak in hot water as much as possible.
I was still without a second-in-command. I asked Colonel Kenan if I could have Lieutenant Lee Lloyd, my old friend from E Company. The Colonel arranged the transfer. Lieutenant Lloyd took over at once as my executive officer, running the patrols and outposts and also all the company details while I was still struggling with my poor feet. Toward the end of the week, when I was able to move again, Lieutenant Lloyd took me on a jeep tour of our lines. All I could do was shake my head at the futility of ever having to defend our position against serious attack, should it come to that.
Oberdonwen was a very old, typical middle European village. The farmers’ houses and barns were more or less backed up against one another for mutual protection, and the surrounding land was farmed in all directions. Unlike the usual American practice, isolated farm homes were rare in much of Europe. I would have guessed that at least one hundred people normally lived in that communal village; all had decamped, except for the Catholic priest and a few of his helpers. They stayed in the convent, apparently living off supplies stored in the cellars. They were not at all friendly—possibly out of wariness for the Germans so close to the border, possibly because of the normal fear and resentment toward any invaders—so we left them alone. We were living in their homes, after all, yet they were not our hosts.
We had not had any enemy action at all in that part of the line; it was therefore something of a surprise to learn from Colonel Kenan that we were to be pulled back even farther behind the lines. Second Battalion was now regimental reserve, and we came back a few miles into the Schrossig-Moutfort area, where we occupied some barrackslike buildings. The buildings were heated and had hot showers, and though they were not fancy, we loved them.
On December 14 Colonel Kenan phoned to tell me that he thought I ought to take a few days off. It seems that Regiment had acquired a nice house in Luxembourg City, supplied a cook, and set it up as a temporary escape for those most needing a change. At first I wasn’t particularly interested, because I already had passable living quarters; and, being somewhat conservative, I wasn’t wild about floating in liquor or chasing women. Not that I disapproved for others. The colonel insisted, however, and sent over a jeep and driver to pick me up. I knew I couldn’t have left the company in better hands than Lieutenant Lloyd’s, so off I went for a few days Rest and Recreation.
The winding blacktop road went through some picturesque villages and pretty countryside. After a short while we came upon the pleasant view of the city on its rather high plateau some miles ahead.
We went almost up to the main business section. The driver stopped before an imposing, modern two-story brick home and said, “This is it, sir.” There I was greeted by four other officers from the Twenty-second, none of whom I’d met before. Our sole bond was that we’d had our fill of the Hürtgen and probably had no business having survived it. We respected one another because of the horrible experiences we had shared.
Luxembourg was a rather large, beautiful old city, after Paris by far the biggest I’d seen on the Continent. Even though it was shelled every day for months by a German railroad gun about twelve miles away, it seemed a most peaceful, tranquil retreat from a very distant war.
After settling my few belongings in the lovely wallpapered room assigned to me, I stretched out blissfully for a short nap on the big double bed. I couldn’t believe it—a real bed with a genuine mattress, white pillows, and white linen!
It was only a short walk downtown. We all went out together to see the sights. The local citizens were all openly friendly, and many of them spoke English. Schoolchildren also spoke to us freely; English was a required subject in the schools.
As part of my adjustment to civilian ways, I treated myself to a dish of ice cream and a movie. It was an old Western with the soundtrack in French and subtitles in English.
I couldn’t wait to try out my warm, comfortable bed, and it did give me a night’s delicious sleep. Hot pancakes and syrup for breakfast was another treat. Good coffee, table and chairs, and silverware made the whole meal a delight.
The next day we met four very nice fighter pilots over coffee in one of the little cafés. We compared notes and had a great time talking with them. There was not the slightest bit of envy or rivalry. They even offered us a chance to shower in their quarters, not realizing we had our own. We parted with friendly waves and mutual encouragement to keep up the good work.
It was a bit of a shock to find my battalion jeep driver waiting for me when I returned to quarters. He had orders from Colonel Kenan to get me back to my company at once because of activity on the front. My R & R thus ended abruptly, and I headed back to what had by then become, for me, the real world.
XIII
BATTLE OF THE BULGE
Second Battalion was in its usual turmoil, everyone scurrying around getting packed for a quick move. Colonel Kenan told me to get right down to my company. He said the only information he had so far was that the Germans had made a sizable attack against the Twelfth Infantry. The Fourth Infantry Division had three basic infantry regiments, the Eighth, Twelfth, and Twenty-second. As the Twenty-second Infantry reserve battalion, we were temporarily assigned to the Twelfth Infantry. We would be fully briefed once we got on the scene.
It was December 17, barely two weeks since we had pulled ourselves out of the Hürtgen forest holocaust and we were about to be thrown into something again. I worried about how unseasoned F Company was. With only four officers and eighty-four men, the company was eighty men short of full strength as well.
Thanks to Lieutenant Lloyd, the company was already mounted in trucks and ready to move when I arrived. In forty-five minutes we arrived at the assembly area about a quarter mile south of Beck along the road to Berberg, and I hurriedly joined the other company commanders for a briefing.
Colonel Kenan told us the Twelfth Infantry had been hit pretty hard along most of its front and that a fierce battle had developed at Echternach on the left front. German units were known to have bypassed Osweiler in the center and Dickweiler on the right.
The Allied High Command had gambled by using a very thin defensive line along the Belgian, Luxembourg, and German borders—only five divisions defended the entire seventy-five-mile front, which would take at least twelve divisions to defend properly, and none of them was ready for combat: the 106th Division was fresh from the States and had no combat experience. Many of its weapons were still in crates. The First, Fourth, Twenty-eighth, and Ninetieth divisions had taken part in the battle of the Hürtgen forest and were at about half strength; it is easy to understand why many units were overrun in the initial fighting. One company of the Twelfth Infan
try was trapped in Osweiler. Our main objective would be to attack at once and get to Osweiler to rescue that company.
The colonel asked if any of us had ever fought with tanks. I waited while no one spoke up and then admitted to having been in the Saint-Lô Breakthrough. So he gave my company the job of working with a company of tanks from the Nineteenth Tank Battalion of the Ninth Armored Division.
The colonel’s plan was for a two-pronged advance on Osweiler, with the main body of the Battalion—Companies E, G, H, and Headquarters—approaching directly southeast along the road to Osweiler, and with F Company going south one mile to Berberg to pick up the tank company and then heading eastward through Herbon to Osweiler (see map). I was cautioned that the Germans might already be near Berberg.
Within a few minutes we were on the way to Berberg, about one half mile south, where the tanks were waiting. As soon as I’d assigned men to ride each tank we took off for Herbon, our first objective, three fourths of a mile to the east. Everything was peaceful and normal until we went through Herbon, and then we passed several dead GIs on a small ridge to our right. Judging by the positions they had fallen in, my guess was that they’d been gunned down by an armored vehicle, rather than by footsoldiers, and this made us even more cautious as we followed the blind bends in the winding road.
The weather thickened to a heavy fog, with visibility down to about two hundred yards even on open ground. When we came to the sloping fields just west of Osweiler we sent tanks and infantry a few hundred yards to the left and right to probe. We found a platoon of Germans in the fields to the left and took them prisoner. They had spotted us beforehand, however, and had already called down artillery. Now they were trapped in their own fire and seemed quite happy to join us behind the shelter of our tanks. The artillery couldn’t follow our movements in the fog, and this spared us a lot of shelling.
The fog began to thin a little, particularly on the higher ground, and my naturally cautious nature made me suggest to the tank captain that he break out the bright orange panels to be put on the backs of our tanks to identify us to friendly aircraft. The tank man didn’t think it necessary, saying, “Those guys can’t fly in this soup.” He was probably right, I thought.
I was on the ground to the left of the road directing some of my men in the handling of the prisoners when I heard the roar of plane motors. Four American P-47 fighter-bombers began to swoop down on our tanks and men on the hill three hundred yards to the right of the road. The first three planes came diving in at very low altitude, but when almost on top of the tanks they pulled up abruptly, wagged their wings, and flew away. The fourth plane, unaccountably cut loose his bombs about one hundred yards from two of our tanks, and his napalm bombs scored direct hits, engulging the tanks. Orange flames shot up from every part of the tanks and surrounding ground, and black smoke rose in an ugly cloud that drifted away.
The two tanks were lost; all the men in them and those close by were killed almost instantly. Napalm burns all the oxygen out of the air and causes quick suffocation. It was over in a few seconds, and we couldn’t do anything except watch helplessly.
The tank captain ordered the orange panels displayed at once.
Thanks to the partial concealment of the fog and the lack of much enemy resistance, we made it into Osweiler about 2:00 that afternoon, December 17. A few survivors from L Company of the Twelfth Infantry were holed up in town, and their lieutenant seemed quite relieved to collect them and march them back down the road to Berberg.
When I radioed Colonel Kenan that we had secured Osweiler, he told me to set up the strongest possible defense and be very alert for counterattacks. We would be on our own, he said, because the rest of the battalion had been attacked and was fighting against a very stubborn enemy. The main battle was about a half mile northwest of us, to our left rear, and we could hear all the shooting. I knew we’d be in jeopardy if the Second Battalion was annihilated.
Osweiler was another typical small farm community. Its sturdy brick and stone houses occupied a small valley with open hills on all sides. Most of the houses seemed to have good cellars, which were where we would live because of the artillery.
Our main concerns were the three roads coming into town from the east and south. Lieutenant Lloyd and I climbed up to the top of a five-story narrow wooden school building to get a better view, and we could see the open hills clearly for about three hundred yards but had no idea what lay beyond. According to our map, Dickweiler was about three quarters of a mile south of us near the Sauer River.
The nearest patch of woods, about a quarter mile north, bordered a ravine or valley near Rodenhof and spread westward beyond where the Second Battalion was in battle. We were so exposed and vulnerable on all sides that I realized we’d have to send out patrols so we’d at least get some warning of attacks.
First we placed in position the tanks we needed to defend the roads and kept the rest of the tanks in mobile reserve for emergencies. Then we placed the riflemen and our light machine guns and mortars in houses close to the tanks to give them support. Every man had his job.
After dark the tank captain became a little restless and decided to pull his tanks out of town and back two miles to Berberg because, he said, they needed gas. I tried to persuade him to stay, but it was a delicate situation. I was in command of the small combat team, yet he was my superior in rank. He therefore decided to ignore my persuasions, so I was forced to radio Colonel Kenan.
The colonel got the captain on the radio and told him to move no more than two tanks at a time to the rear for gas. The captain protested that it would be too dangerous to send two tanks by themselves and also that it would take too long. The colonel then told him to have his gas trucks meet him halfway, but that under no circumstances was he to move more than two tanks at a time to be filled up.
The captain had to comply, but he was mad as hell. His mood didn’t bother me because all I cared about was defending the town; I needed those tanks.
The Second Battalion was unable to disengage itself from the Germans all night. Early the next morning, December 18, Colonel Kenan ordered me to send a platoon of tanks and some infantry to release the entrapped battalion. Visibility was still poor due to the heavy fog, so poor that our tanks accidentally opened fire on the leading elements of G Company. Later I learned that G Company’s Greenlee saved what could have been a tragedy by running toward the tanks and waving his maps.
Because of the extra firepower of the tanks, the Germans were driven far enough back to allow the Second Battalion to break through the Germans and join the rest of us in Osweiler. Colonel Kenan quickly reinforced our defenses and sent out patrols north, east, and south. No contacts were made, so we had an enjoyable, peaceful night.
Next day Colonel Kenan called a meeting of company commanders and for the first time was able to give us an idea of what was happening. At the time, and even to this day, it was pretty damned scary. These were not strong combat patrols or company- or battalion-strength attacks we were getting; rather, a whole big section of the German front had erupted in a massive, desperate surprise offensive. We happened to be at the southern edge of a huge German spearhead, and it was utterly vital that we hold our ground and thus force the German penetration northwestward, away from the critical airfields and supply depots of Luxembourg.
At about this time Division G-2 (Intelligence) had information that the Germans had a pontoon bridge across the Sauer River, about three quarters of a mile to our northeast. Two brave volunteers took a long-range radio and went through our lines and on into the hills beyond. Their mission was to direct artillery fire onto the bridge, and cold as it was, they stayed out a couple of nights giving the Germans fits. Finally they were forced to return home when the Germans began to send out search patrols that were getting awfully close. That was some tough mission, and my hat was off to those two men.
Second Battalion was still attached to the Twelfth Infantry Regiment. Their commander, Colonel Chance, needed more information,
so he ordered us to send patrols to greater distances. Therefore, on December 19, Lieutenant Lloyd led a patrol northward toward Rodenhof. The fog had thickened, and visibility was down to less than one hundred yards at midday.
Lieutenant Lloyd returned with his patrol in about an hour. Less than a half mile out of town, and just west of Rodenhof, he had found a large concentration of Germans. Colonel Kenan immediately relayed this intelligence to Colonel Chance, who apparently was not much of a conservative, for he just as quickly ordered Colonel Kenan to leave his strong defensive position in Osweiler and get out and attack those Germans that very day.
As I should have expected, the colonel ordered my company to move out first on foot, with Lieutenant Lloyd leading us to the head of a small valley just a couple of hundred yards southwest of Rodenhof. We were to take up positions facing north and to begin firing on the ridge directly in front of us at 4:00 P.M. From our positions on the forward slope of the ridge we would be firing at the Germans across a valley about two hundred yards wide.
This firing was intended as a diversion to keep the Germans occupied while the main attack swung in from my left rear and then continued straight ahead through the valley and ridge into Rodenhof. My company’s firing was, of course, to stop on signal as the attack advanced.
Lieutenant Lloyd led us to our firing positions without confusion and without detection; we were there in plenty of time. At exactly 1600 hours we commenced firing across the small valley. Due to the heavy fog it was impossible to tell just where our barrage of bullets was going and what effect, if any, it might be having on the unseen enemy. Certainly the shooting made a tremendous noise and must have given the Germans the impression of a powerful attack coming their way.
At 4:00 P.M. companies E and G jumped off abreast. As they advanced we clearly heard the staccato barking and ripping of German machine guns; E and G must have been meeting very stiff resistance. In part due to the vicious enemy fire, in part due to inability to maneuver in the fog, our battalion attack soon petered out. Both attack companies were still back two hundred yards on my left flank when they began to dig in.
If You Survive Page 18