Death Traps: The Survival of an American Armored Division in World War II (12 page)

The Roadblock at Maubeuge

Whenever I traveled those roads, day or night, I noted potential trouble spots on my map case. Our convoy moved along smoothly through Laon, but the road on the far side of town was new to me, so we proceeded more cautiously.

In the early afternoon, as we approached the crest of a hill about half a mile outside Maubeuge, I stopped the column and went forward to do a little reconnoitering. The main highway crossed a river on a bridge, which I learned might have been damaged. It could be crossed by wheeled vehicles, but a column of thirty-two-ton tanks was another matter.

If there were any Germans in Maubeuge, I didn’t think they could see the tank column. At the top of the hill, the highway from Laon to Maubeuge intersected another road that ran between northern France and Belgium. On the lower slope of the hill, about a thousand yards to the west, was a large, heavily wooded area. To our right was an open field with a wooded area about three hundred yards beyond.

Suddenly, a lone man dressed as a typical French farmer emerged from the bushes to our left. I raised my M1 rifle, and Vernon pointed his carbine directly at him. He raised both hands high as he approached our Jeep and yelled in broken English,
“Me no Boche, me Français, me Français!”

“Parlez-vous Anglais?”
I asked.

“Un petit,”
he replied. He pointed frantically toward the woods down the hill to the left.
“Beaucoup Boche en le bois,
beaucoup Boche en le bois.”

I knew he was trying to tell me there were a lot of Germans in those woods. With a better command of English than I had of French, he explained that he was a member of the French underground army and that the woods down the hill to the left hid between one and three thousand German soldiers, perhaps half a dozen tanks, and other equipment.

He also said that an American armored column had gone through Maubeuge early that morning on the way to Mons. Because I knew that the division normally traveled in parallel columns, and that there was another road about two miles to the west, I assumed that another of our columns came up that road. If the Germans were actually in those woods, they would probably stay there until dark because they were afraid of American airpower.

The Frenchman told me he knew where the French resistance headquarters was in Maubeuge and we could go there to get more information. I went back down the hill and told the sergeant about the situation, then took off for Maubeuge to contact the French resistance headquarters.

As I crossed the bridge into town—it was a modern structural steel bridge with an arch and a reinforced concrete roadway— I noticed several pockmarks along the left side of the bridge that had apparently been made by exploding shells. They didn’t appear to have done any damage to the structural steel underneath, so I felt that the bridge was safe for tanks.

The French resistance headquarters was located downtown in a cellar next to a restaurant. It was guarded by men with German rifles who stood all around the building and inside. In addition to German burp guns, which the guards seemed to prize highly, were a number of American carbines and tommy guns. Many of the guards wore GI coveralls, which I assumed had been air-dropped to them.

I was conducted into their situation room. Hanging on the walls were marked maps with overlays showing the various locations of known troops in the area, both friendly and enemy. I was particularly impressed with the commander, a tall, good-looking French mademoiselle with short-cropped blond hair and wearing GI coveralls that looked as though she had been poured into them. In Camp Polk jargon, she would be considered “some kind of ’licious chicken.” She had an impressive command of the situation and seemed to know exactly what was going on. Several radios seemed to be in constant communication with other French resistance units.

The 3d Armored Division, which had apparently arrived in Mons the night before, had run into a number of German units that were making a last, desperate attempt to get through Mons, one of the main junctions on the road to Charleroi and Aachen. The armored division was apparently surrounded and having a hell of a fight.

The commander informed me that, other than bridges over small streams, the only bridge to be crossed was the main one coming into town, and that all of the bridges were intact. I thanked her profusely for the information, returned to my Jeep, and headed out of town.

Sergeant Devers met me at the top of the hill, where he had been in a concealed position observing the woods to the left with his field glasses. Having detected no movement, he felt that the Germans had not seen our tank column. I told him to assemble the acting tank commanders so I could give them a quick briefing.

We would move out, go through Maubeuge, and proceed to Mons. I explained that the division was cut off there and would need these tanks as soon as possible. Because we would be visible to the Germans in the woods as we crossed the top of the ridge, the tank commanders should swing their turrets to the left and be prepared to fire if we noticed any evidence of German movement. Our objective was to get the tanks to the division and not be delayed by a firefight with an isolated group.

Just as we were getting ready to move out, a motorized infantry column led by a one-star general in a Jeep appeared on the crest of the hill to our rear. The column pulled up parallel to ours and stopped. I wasn’t happy to think I’d probably have to deal with some high-ranking brass.

Brigadier General Wyman, the assistant division commander leading the 26th Regimental Combat Team of the 1st Infantry Division, immediately demanded to know who was in charge and what we were doing here. I stepped forward, laid a snappy VMI salute on him, and said, “Lieutenant Cooper, ordnance liaison officer, CCB, Third Armored Division, sir.”

He wanted to know why a first lieutenant was in charge of an entire task force. I explained that this was not a task force but merely replacement tanks, and we were trying to get to Mons and meet our division as quickly as possible. I told him about my experience with the French underground headquarters in Maubeuge, about the German group reported to be in the forest to our left, and what I knew about our division. I explained that the bridge to Maubeuge was safe, because I had just crossed it.

He asked if I thought I could fight this tank group as an effective combat unit. I explained that the tanks did not have radio communications with one another but could use hand signals, and I felt that we could put up a good fight if we had to.

Wyman told me to set up a perimeter defense around this road junction and await further orders from him. He gave me the name of the commander of an engineer combat battalion in a little village about a mile to the east of us and said he would notify the commander of my position. He explained that this was an important road junction that the Germans might try to cross later and cut the corps supply lines.

He said that although he didn’t have time to deal with the Germans in the woods because he had to get to Mons immediately to relieve my division, he would call for an air strike. He turned to his aide, who was sitting in the backseat of the Jeep and already had out the map. Wyman located the position in the woods and gave the coordinates to the air corps liaison officer in the scout car, who in turn got on the radio and called for the strike. Then the column headed down the road.

Six P47s came in at about two thousand feet and circled over the woods to identify the target. They apparently recognized our column and dipped their wings as they circled back over the woods. I knew that the Germans were really in for it. The planes came screaming down single file with their eight .50 calibers blasting wide open. When they reached about a thousand feet, they released their bombs, started to pull out, and gained altitude to get back in line for a second pass.

The woods literally boiled with flame and smoke. Metal started flying through the air. It could have been parts of German vehicles, but at this distance I couldn’t be sure. German soldiers started to run out of the woods to the south and west, but none came up the hill toward us. There was no evidence of any German flak. The entire strike consisted of one bomb run for each plane and then one or two strafing runs. The strike was over in less than two minutes, and it was obvious that the Germans had suffered a devastating blow.

I told Sergeant Devers to coil the tank column off the road and circle the perimeter of defense on the back slope of the hill away from the woods. While waiting for the message from General Wyman, we were joined by another American column that came up from the south. It turned out to be Lieutenant Carter, from B Company, and his maintenance platoon, who had been back at the last VCP. They had finished their work and were heading forward to join the division.

Rusty, as Lieutenant Carter was known to his lieutenant buddies, was a down-to-earth good ol’ boy from Louisiana and used to be, so he said, a genuine cowpoke. He was the first American officer I ever saw with the audacity to wear cowboy boots with his dress uniform.

There was some question about who received his commission first: Rusty from the CMTC or I through the ROTC. It was generally understood when an officer came on active duty that his date of rank started when he signed up at division headquarters. I signed in on the morning of June 22, 1941; Rusty signed in at about 1400 on the same day. We were both promoted to first lieutenant at the same time by the same order. Thus, Rusty and I had had a friendly ongoing argument about who outranked whom.

Rusty bivouacked his platoon inside our coiled circle of tanks. He had his entire maintenance platoon plus the crews of several repaired vehicles, a total strength of sixty men plus one M15 half-track with twin .50s and a coaxial 37mm antiaircraft gun and two M16 half-tracks with quad .50 antiaircraft guns. These half-tracks had their full regular crews plus a complete load of ammunition, fuel, and rations. Rusty’s platoon was indeed a welcome addition.

At about 1500, I received a personal message signed by General Wyman briefly outlining the situation. General Wyman’s 26th Regimental Combat Team from the 1st Division was engaged with the 3d Armored Division in heavy fighting in Mons. There was speculation that the Germans might try to bypass Mons to the south. We should be prepared to intercept elements of up to seven German divisions.

The 18th Regimental Combat Team was somewhat south and west of us and should cross this same highway about two miles west of our road junction sometime between midnight and daybreak. I was to prepare a position around the road junction and defend it at all costs. If I did not hear differently from Wyman by 0900, I could assume that the situation had calmed down and I was to proceed to Mons. He sent a similar message to the major who was commanding the engineer battalion about a mile to our east.

I wasn’t particularly anxious to assume responsibility of the entire group, but I knew that somebody had to, and I felt that my training and exposure in combat gave me a better background than Rusty had. Our friendly ongoing argument about who outranked whom was to remain friendly, because when I briefed him about the situation, he said without a moment’s hesitation, “Cooper, you’re in charge. What do you want me to do?”

Combat elements of seven divisions could be as many as 35,000 to 40,000 men. I had heard stories of first lieutenants assuming command of infantry battalions when all the other officers were killed, but I’d never heard of an ordnance officer commanding a task force under these conditions. I began to realize and appreciate the value of the training in armored warfare tactics that I’d had in the Armored Force Tank School in the summer of 1941. German panzer divisions had swept through this same area in May 1940. Small French tank units, we were taught, had held up much larger German units by moving quickly from one dug-in position to another. With this lesson in mind, I made my plan to defend this position.

Rusty and I called up the noncoms and the acting tank commanders and briefed them. With seventeen tanks, three half-tracks, and 120 men armed with rifles and a few bazookas, we had a fairly sizable force. We set up a perimeter defense approximately six hundred yards in diameter centering on the main road junction. On the western flank, facing the enemy, we set up three M4 Sherman tanks staggered in depth. The first tank was behind a hedgerow near the road that ran through the woods where the Germans had been bombed that afternoon. The second tank, also hidden behind a hedgerow, was about thirty yards to the rear and across the road. The third tank was about thirty yards to the rear of the second tank and on the same side of the road as the first tank. The three tanks formed a triangle, so that if one tank was attacked, the attacking force would come under the fire of the other two tanks. This principle had been emphasized strongly at the Armored Force Tank School for an ideal tank defense. We instructed the tank crews to load initially with HE and to fire it directly at any tank in their group that was overrun by infantry. The high explosive would not penetrate the tank but would have a devastating effect on any enemy outside it.

Two men were positioned on top of the hundred-foot-tall water tower that was in the middle of this triangular arrangement. Fifteen men on the ground were well dug in around the tanks. One of the M16 antiaircraft half-tracks trained its quad .50-caliber machine guns down the road. I felt that this firepower could wreak havoc on any approaching enemy force.

We placed a similar force of three tanks, each with fifteen riflemen, dispersed in the same triangular fashion on each of the other three road junctions, facing north, south, and east. We kept five tanks and one half-track in mobile reserve.

We set up our headquarters on the northeast corner of the road junction in a defiladed position away from the woods to the west. We had two tank maintenance sergeants, one acting as sergeant of the guard and the other as his assistant. All the men were informed of the password and parole, which had been established in a previous division order for this phase of the operation. Runners went from headquarters to each roadblock at fifteen-minute intervals. We had no radio contact with any other unit and were strictly on our own for the next eight to ten hours, but I felt we had done reasonably well with what we had.