The Bloody Forest: Battle for the Huertgen: September 1944–January 1945

by Gerald Astor

  15

  OVERLOOKING THE ROER

  On 4 December, Tom Cross wrote a letter to his son Dick, then in the final stages of OCS in the States. (Another son, Tom R., serving with the 517th Parachute Regiment, had been hurt while engaged in an airborne invasion of southern France.) The senior Cross wrote, “I have command of a regiment now, a real fighting outfit, and I’m very proud of it, as the regiment has done a wonderful bit of work. I never thought that troops could be so wonderful, even fighting on with just guts and nothing else. I feel the strain of it, but so long as I get three or four hours of rest each night, I’ll make out all right.” He mentioned a near miss from a mortar and then devoted his comments to regrets that he could not pin a lieutenant’s bars on Dick and offered advice on buying uniforms and equipment.

  According to Cross’s diary, conditions remained more precarious than the tone of his letter. He remarked on a German counterattack against the CCR (Combat Command Reserve of the 5th Armored Division), which looked critical. He noted that a thrust against his 8th Division’s 28th Infantry Regiment was halted with large casualties for the enemy, while his own 1st Battalion dug in north of the important Brandenberg ridge. On 6 December he remarked, “5th Armored continues to get pounded by artillery and mortars. It was necessary to put in a battalion of Rangers to hold the situation as the Boche attempted counterattacks but all were beaten back. An attempt to move the two companies of the regiment to the flank of the 2d Battalion was badly handled and nothing accomplished. Miserable leadership and a sick battalion commander the main difficulties. Battalion CO relieved, sent to the hospital. Reassigned the officers of the companies that failed to move.”

  Contrary to the remarks to his son, he expressed unhappiness with the declining enthusiasm of the GIs. “Still having trouble with stragglers, using MPs to stop them in the main roads. Not pleasant to feel that Americans will shirk front line duty, but there are hundreds of them that will do anything to keep from fighting. I intend to handle them roughly.” The official regimental histories take no note of this aspect of the Huertgen campaign.

  Cross and other commanders fretted over the enemy occupation of dominant positions on high ground around the towns of Schmidt and Bergstein, from which they poured abundant artillery and mortars on anyone who sought to advance through minefields and scathing small-arms fire. The locale provided the defenders with a commanding view of any movement of U.S. troops. As Cross remarked, the CCR of the 5th Armored Division reeled from an onslaught of tanks and self-propelled guns during a defense of its tenuous grasp of Brandenberg and Bergstein. The sight of 75mm shells from M4 tank destroyers bouncing off the hulls of the enemy Panzers discouraged some crews from even challenging their Panther adversaries. The few TDs with the 76mm cannons fared better, but the ravages of sustained fighting left CCR unable to assault the linchpin for German observation and artillery fire—Castle Hill. Also known as Hill 400 because of its height in meters, it threatened anyone seeking to advance over the surrounding territory.

  General Walter Weaver, Stroh’s replacement, commanding the 8th Division, specifically asked Gen. Leonard Gerow, corps commander, for Rangers to assist his division’s assault on Castle Hill. Chosen for the assignment were D and F Companies, with A, B, and C securing nearby ridges and providing roadblocks and supplementary mortar fire. Meanwhile, E Company would, with survivors of CCR, hold Bergstein against expected counterattacks.

  One D Company veteran of the Omaha Beach assault, Len Lomell, was awarded a battlefield commission in October and, along with the other Rangers, boarded trucks that carried them from their reserve bivouac into the forest. Near Kleinhau, they dismounted and, bone-chilled, plodded on a wet, muddy, and icy trail in the darkness of night. Sporadically, flares and shell bursts briefly illuminated the scarified landscape.

  At a crossroads, the men halted and morale plummeted as their revered commander, Lt. Col. James Rudder, passed among them with word he had been transferred to lead the shredded 28th Division’s 109th Regiment. Lomell heard the news only after he returned from a patrol that prowled the base and lower elevations of Hill 400. A small party from F Company also reconnoitered the objective.

  In the early morning hours of 7 December, the date that resonates through history but went ignored in the Huertgen Forest on its third anniversary, Rangers from D and F left their shelters of burned-out armor and ruined buildings in Bergstein and started toward their line of departure. At 0730, amidst a fearsome artillery duel, the Rangers jumped off for Hill 400.

  According to eyewitness Sid Salomon from C Company, “The CO at the appropriate time gave the word ‘Go!’ With whooping and hollering as loud as possible, firing clips of ammo at random from their weapons in the direction of the hill, the Rangers ran as fast as they could across the approximately 100 yards of open, cleared field into the machine gun and small-arms fire of the German defenders. Crossing the field and before reaching the base of the hill, the company commander and his runner became casualties, but, undaunted, the remaining D Company Rangers charged up the hill.

  “The enemy defenders immediately became alert. A red flare shot in the air from an enemy outpost, apparently a signal to their higher headquarters. Shortly thereafter, a heavy mortar and artillery barrage came down on the assaulting Rangers. Heavy small-arms and machine gun fire was directed on the rushing Rangers. Casualties on both sides now began to mount, but still the charge continued. Some Germans were giving ground. Others of the enemy forces were seemingly safe in well-prepared holes or behind log emplacements. Rifle and automatic fire filled the air. A creeping German artillery barrage behind the assaulting Rangers produced more Ranger casualties. The enemy continued to offer stiff resistance.”

  A similar lunge marked the advance of F Company Rangers. Said Salomon, “An enemy machine gun located at the left lower corner of the hill wounded and killed several of the F Company Rangers as they crossed the open field. The remainder of the company continued forward, some running faster than others, all firing their weapons running up the hill, with little opportunity for any semblance of order, primarily one of individualism or survival, to reach the top of the hill. The Allied barrage had lifted, but the enemy mortar gunners were now adjusting their range to follow the assaulting Rangers up the hill. Some of the Germans at the lower base of the hill either turned and ran up the hill to avoid charging Rangers or stood up and surrendered.”

  Private William Anderson, a seasoned Ranger broken from sergeant to the lowest rank for garrison infractions, Sgt. William “L-Rod” Petty, and Pfc. Cloise Manning, the first three F Company men who achieved the top, saw an enemy bunker and ran to the main entrance, which was guarded by a steel door. From inside came the voices of German soldiers. Petty thrust his BAR into an aperture and emptied a twenty-round magazine. Anderson shoved a couple of grenades through the flap. As both stepped back several feet to avoid the resulting explosion, an enemy shell landed nearby, instantly killing Anderson. In the meantime, the CO (Capt. Otto Masney) arrived along with some more soldiers. They entered the bunker and captured the wounded and stunned inhabitants.

  Said Salomon, “Ultimately, the fast, unceasing, and determined forward momentum of the assaulting D Company Rangers stunned the German defenders, some of whom quickly moved away from the steadily advancing assaulting troops.” Within an hour, the enemy had fled but it was an onerous victory.

  Well aware of the importance of the high land, the foe now rained down a murderous assortment of explosives on the new kings of the hill. The rocky, tree-rooted ground defied the best efforts of entrenching tools. The only protection was beneath toppled trees or in shell holes. The battered able-bodied Rangers of D Company drew some comfort from the support of F Company, which had secured the left flank. However, that outfit was in just as deep trouble. Masney believed it required the authority of someone with his rank to obtain aid from below. He discussed with Petty which route to follow, but when he went off in a different direction than recommended by the sergeant, German s
oldiers captured him.

  Lomell, now the sole officer of D Company—his company commander, Capt. Mort McBride, wounded during the uphill charge, had been evacuated—still on his feet, reached a concealed troop shelter at the top of the hill. He threw in a grenade, and another Ranger sprayed the interior with automatic fire. According to Lomell, “Survival was a matter of luck. We were under constant bombardment. Guys were lying all over the hill. We couldn’t even give first aid. We were told we would be relieved and just to hold on. How long can you tell a guy bleeding to death to hold on. My God, he knew I was lying to him.

  “I had tears in my eyes. We stopped another counterattack, but if the Germans had known how many men, or really how few we had up there, they would have kept coming.” Bleeding from wounds of his hand and arm, Lomell offered a proposal to his noncoms. “If we retreat, they’ll take care of our wounded. We can come back and take the hill later.” They adamantly refused to consider the idea. An explosion near him caused a concussion. “I was bleeding from the anus and the mouth as a result.” Under the cover of darkness, he was evacuated.

  Originally informed that they would need to control Castle Hill for no more than twenty-four hours before infantrymen of the 8th Division would take over, the besieged Rangers endured more than forty hours on the heights. Of the sixty-five Rangers who started the charge, only fifteen could come down under their own power. On the morning after Lomell came off Hill 400, German artillery slammed into the Ranger positions just as the battalion surgeon Walter Block left his dugout to supervise removal of the seriously wounded. A shell fragment killed him instantly.

  As one of his last acts, Block spared his medical technician Frank South the worst of the battering around Hill 400. “The day before the battalion was sent into action at Bergstein, I passed out due to dehydration and a severe gastrointestinal problem. Not knowing we were about to be committed, Block insisted that I get to a hospital. I was unaware we were in action until wounded Rangers began to arrive. I immediately went AWOL from the hospital and hitchhiked back to the battalion, only to find the Battle of Hill 400 was over, the battalion decimated, and Block dead. He was the first and last medical officer we had that deserved the name of a Ranger. I still feel both guilty and somehow cheated that I was not part of that battle.”

  Sid Salomon, CO of Baker Company in the 2d Ranger Battalion, who saw his GIs chewed up during the first exploratory thrusts into the Huertgen, considered his people cruelly used. “After the invasion, there was no need for a 2d Ranger Battalion. We were used as an infantry company, attached to maybe ten different divisions. The people in command did not know what the Rangers were. They would put the Rangers first and keep their own casualties down. A combat command of the 5th Armored Division [ordinarily about 3,000 men with tanks and other armored vehicles, although by the first week of December, its ranks fell far short of the table of organization] failed to take Hill 400. Three companies of Rangers [little more than 200 foot soldiers] captured it, going past burned-out tanks with GIs hanging over the sides.”

  The 13th Infantry Regiment of the 8th Division climbed into the foxholes of the Rangers on Castle Hill on 9 December. Casualties for the 2d Ranger Battalion during the siege amounted to twenty-three killed, eighty-six wounded, and four missing.

  Replacing the 4th Division, the 83d, commanded by Maj. Gen. Robert C. Macon, had been transferred to the VII Corps under Collins. It drew the objectives of Gey and Strass, a pair of villages in the northern section of the Huertgen. These villages were within a mile of the Roer River. Success by the 83d would gain a network of roads, pathways for the tanks of the 5th Armored to clear away the German presence in the corps’ zone along the river. The collaborative efforts of the 83d Division and the 5th Armored covered a line that ran parallel to the Roer for about four miles.

  The approach would dovetail neatly with the V Corps during its coming push to the stream from the south. In this sector, Gerow intended to commit an untested, newly arrived outfit, the 78th Division, to the campaign. Farther south, from Monschau, the 2d Division, protected by the 99th Division on its right flank, would also push toward the Roer.

  Toward the end of October, Ninth Army engineers reported that there would be devastating consequences if the enemy opened the floodgates of the river’s system of dams, particularly the giant Schwammenauel and the other major installation, the Urft. Now, in December, the possible significance of these structures became apparent to some top strategists. It had fallen to the First Army to neutralize the threat, which was within its sector. However, judging from the diary entries of Major Sylvan, the dams never generated much discussion, because the assistant to Hodges does not mention them.

  In a decision that required the approval of the supreme commander, Eisenhower, the planners decided that it was an opportune moment to destroy the dams, because the floods would sweep over the Germans between the Americans and the Roer, eliminating any efforts to reinforce or supply the enemy. The RAF, which enjoyed a reputation as “dam busters” because of efforts elsewhere, agreed to missions against the Schwammenauel, Urft, and the lesser Paulushof Dams. Bad weather limited the raids, and those that did strike inflicted little damage on the massive earthen and concrete barriers. Hodges and his associates now accepted that the dams had to be captured rather than demolished.

  The overall plan of the First Army envisioned the 83d Division to force its way to the western banks of the Roer on the left flank of the 78th, which would head directly toward the two biggest dams. General Macon, as CG of the 83d, delegated the task at Strass to his 330th Regiment and Gey to the 331st. On 10 December, the two outfits broke out of the cover of the woods during the predawn darkness, canceling out any opportunity for the Germans, well entrenched in basements and bunkers, to drench them with fire while they crossed open fields. Both regiments fought their way into the towns, where they engaged in fierce house-to-house exchanges.

  The defenders had permeated the ground with mines, burying some so deep that while one piece of armor might grind past without damage, the tank following in its track prints would detonate the explosives. The plethora of shell fragments and metal detritus rendered conventional mine detectors useless. Engineers were forced to painstakingly probe by bayonet and hand to locate the devices. German gunners pinpointed the engineers laboring at the task. Efforts to bring forward additional armor to assist in routing the resistance from their positions foundered, as mines blew tank tracks or mud paralyzed movement.

  Under cover of night, Germans infiltrated the thickets that enveloped a road out of Strass to isolate the GIs of the 330th. The 5th Armored Division units, despite the breakdown in the expected advance, adhered to a timetable for their movement forward. The tanks of the 81st Tank Battalion and half-tracks loaded with riflemen from the 15th Armored Infantry Battalion crawled through the muddy, light snow–covered trails in the forest beyond Kleinhau and toward an elevated wooded ground.

  The foot soldiers dismounted as they neared the line of departure. Again, faulty intelligence betrayed the GIs. The area, supposedly secure, quickly shook with artillery and mortar rounds. Flurries of small-arms fire issued from the right flank along with panzerfaust blasts.

  T/5 Hopkins of the 71st AFA Headquarters Battery drove an M4 tank as part of a forward observation crew and said, “Doughs of the 15th AIB started slogging down the frozen road to the jumping-off point. Most of them wore only field jackets, due to the quantity of equipment and arms that had to be carried. The tanks pulled out on the road in single file, moving forward at a very slow rate of speed. The road was under enemy observation and was plastered repeatedly by artillery and mortar fire. Despite this and innumerable other hardships, the attack pressed steadily forward.

  “The going got rougher with every yard. Tankers had to fight the mud and sweat and artillery and direct fire from antitank guns. We finally reached the top of a mountain near our line of departure and had to hold up. The Krauts were looking down our throat from a still higher mountain. We tri
ed to press forward down the steep hill, but this was useless due to minefields. Several of our tanks lost tracks due to the mines. It was decided to sit tight and wait for the units on our left to advance. The tanks took up a defensive position, and the doughs dug in for a stay that seemed almost eternity.

  “We remained in this position for, I believe, three days and nights, during which time the only hot food we had was coffee prepared at great risk by lighting a gasoline stove on the floor near piles of ammunition. The only sleep we got was acquired dozing while sitting in our cramped positions with no room to stretch or turn. To answer calls of nature, we crawled out and stuck our fannies over the edge of the tank, praying always that a mortar shell didn’t arrive to drive us from our sojourn.

  “During our stay here, men were killed like flies, and mortar shells were falling at such an unbelievable rate of speed and accuracy that it was practically impossible for anyone to withstand the ordeal. Reinforcements poured in steadily, but they could not keep up with the terrific losses.”

  Every line company commander of the 15th AIB had either been killed or wounded. By the end of the third day, the outfit’s three line companies, which at full strength contained eighteen officers and 735 enlisted men, reported their numbers as four officers and 170 soldiers. To add riflemen, the 15th’s antitank platoon abandoned their 57mm cannons and toted M1s to take positions amid the shrinking files of infantrymen. Because trucks, jeeps, Weasels, and other thin-skinned vehicles could not withstand the intense enemy fire, light tanks loaded with rations, water, clothing, and ammunition crept forward to supply the pinned down GIs. On the return, they carried wounded stretched out on their rear decks.