Death Traps: The Survival of an American Armored Division in World War II (20 page)

The Germans Regroup

By December 24, the situation in the Stavelot–La Gleize– Stoumont area had stabilized, and CCB was relieved and reverted back to 3d Armored Division control. In the meantime, 3d Armored Division headquarters with elements of CCR had moved on the night of December 19 from Stolberg to the vicinity of Hotton.

They had to contend with the same horrible driving conditions of ice, sleet, and freezing rain, and when they arrived at Hotton the next morning they had numerous vehicles scattered up and down the seventy-mile route of march. It was an enormous effort for the maintenance people to unsnarl this mess and get the damaged vehicles repaired and back on the road. With CCB at Stavelot and CCA still committed south of Eupen, the division was vastly understrength. The division’s mission was to establish contact with the 82d Airborne to the east along the Grandménil-Manhay-Hotton highway and at the same time try to contain the flow of German armor north until more reinforcements arrived.

The Battle of the Bulge now entered the critical second phase. The plan to hold the hinges north and south of the bulge appeared to be gaining success. Kampfgruppe Peiper, leading the 1st SS Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler Panzer Division, had failed to capture the gasoline dump and had suffered a crushing defeat. To the south, the 101st Airborne Division and elements of the 10th Armored Division doggedly defended Bastogne. Even though they were completely surrounded, they refused to surrender. General Patton’s Third Army had launched an all-out assault to relieve Bastogne. Both the northern and southern flanks appeared to be stabilizing somewhat, but the area between Bastogne and Saint-Vith was wide open, and German armor and
panzergrenadier
units were still going strong.

The virtual decimation of Kampfgruppe Peiper and 1st SS Panzer Division cost the Germans their most powerful attacking force. It appeared that the emphasis was now being shifted to the 5th Panzer Army, and the 116th Panzer Division had the mission to head north and seize the bridgehead across the Meuse River on the way to Antwerp.

On the morning of December 20, the 3d Armored Division rushed into the gap between Hotton and Manhay to confront this advance. With less than a third of its strength—both of its major combat commands were committed elsewhere—the division was thrown into the maw. General Rose faced some critical decisions.

Generally speaking, our intelligence about German movements was good. Rose knew that the Germans probably had less of an idea of American dispositions. For the 3d Armored Division to be in the Aachen-Stolberg area on December 19 and suddenly appear seventy miles away the next morning took the Germans completely by surprise; they didn’t realize that this was less than a third of the division. With our well-organized motor transport and maintenance system, American armor had a vast maneuver and logistic superiority over comparable German units. The Germans never quite comprehended this.

Here again we see the advantages of the heavier American armored division. The 3d Armored Division had a total strength of 390 tanks, 232 of them M4 Shermans. Although vastly inferior in armor and firepower, the heavy armored division had as many tanks as two and a half German panzer divisions. Rose’s 60 medium and 30 light tanks, together with accompanying units and artillery, gave him a lean and mean Combat Command R.

3d Armored Division at Hotton-Manhay

General Rose already had a reputation as an extremely aggressive division commander who had great confidence in his troops. He had his staff come up with a fast-moving, innovative plan.

At noon on December 20, the 3d Armored Division attacked southward against elements of one panzer and two
volksgrenadier
divisions. The attack called for an advance along the broad front from Hotton to Grandménil. The three American task forces moving southward and the Germans moving northward had a series of meeting engagements.

The terrain in this area of the Ardennes was extremely rugged. The ability to advance was limited, and sometimes columns would come around a bend facing each other less than a hundred yards apart. It was as if two blindfolded prizefighters suddenly found themselves in the middle of the ring and their blindfolds were removed. The guy who threw the first punch had the advantage.

If the lead German tank was a Mark IV, the American M4A1 with its 76mm gun and power traverse turret had a good chance. The German turrets were manually operated, and we could generally swing faster and get off the first shot quicker. If the lead German tank was a Tiger or a Panther, we had to back up, get out of there, and set up a roadblock.

A tank commander reported that he had come face-to-face with a Panther that had its gun turret turned ninety degrees from the forward position. He fired the first round from the 76mm gun and struck the Panther square in the middle of its forward glacis plate. There was a tremendous flash of sparks, like a grinding wheel hitting a piece of steel. When it was over, the tank commander realized that the round had ricocheted and not penetrated the tank. He quickly reloaded, fired the second round, and struck the glacis plate again as the German slowly turned its turret in his direction. Before the Panther could get its gun zeroed in on the M4, the tank commander got off a third round, with equal results. The Panther was finally able to fire its high-velocity 75mm, which penetrated the M4 tank like a sieve. Fortunately, the tank commander survived to tell this story.

Although the heavier Panther and King Tiger tanks were far superior in firepower and armor, our small task forces had additional capabilities, which tended to offset this. Our infantry rode in M3 half-tracks with one-half-inch and one-quarter-inch armor on the front and the sides. With three machine guns on each half-track plus their semi-automatic Garand rifles, our infantrymen had considerably greater firepower than comparable German units. The M2 half-track had a door in the back and mounted an 81mm mortar that could be fired directly from the half-track. It could also be removed and fired from the ground. Each task force also included several M16 half-tracks with quad .50-caliber machine guns and M15 half-tracks with a single 37mm automatic gun and two .50-caliber machine guns. This gave the task force a tremendous amount of automatic firepower. Armored and infantry firepower was supplemented by M7 105mm self-propelled howitzers, which generally rode on the tail of the column. Even though these task forces were small, they were highly mobile and could pack a hell of a punch if they got into a firefight. The task force commanders realized they were light on armor and they could not stand much of a chance when engaged by major panzer units.

For the next few days, the situation was highly fluid. With the exception of certain isolated supply units, such as the 7th Armored Division trains at La Roche, there were no major American combat forces in this area other than the 3d Armored Division. Its three columns advanced south as rapidly as possible. Once they contacted the enemy, they tried to slow down the enemy’s advance. As the overwhelming enemy strength built up, they withdrew.

General Rose’s mission was to establish a screen between the 82d Airborne on the east and Hotton on the west, where the 84th Infantry was due to arrive soon. All three task forces began to encounter heavy German resistance and started to withdraw slowly. The Germans brought in the 2d SS Panzer Division with the mission of driving up highway N15 toward Manhay and screening the flank of the 5th Panzer Army to the south. The 2d SS Panzer Division had become notorious for the cruel massacre of more than six hundred innocent French civilians including women and children during the earlier days of the invasion.

Task Force Hogan had proceeded southward from Soy to a point three miles south of Samrée. As the German pressure began to build, the task force slowly withdrew to higher ground at Berisménil, where they were completely cut off and surrounded by German panzer units. They set up a strong perimeter defense, and from this high ground could observe the movement of the German troops down below and fire on them while directing other division artillery into this area.

This was a constant thorn in the Germans’ side. A young German officer under a truce flag approached the outer perimeter defenses. He was met, blindfolded, and escorted to Colonel Hogan’s command post. His message said they were surrounded by three divisions and would be totally destroyed if they did not surrender. Hogan told him in his polite Texas drawl to go to hell, and the German returned with his mission unfulfilled.

The weather was beginning to abate somewhat, and there were patches of clear sky mixed with the clouds. An attempt to resupply Hogan’s unit with an airdrop missed the target completely. Another attempt was made to fire medical supplies in empty smoke shells. When this too failed, the situation became more critical. After four desperate days, General Rose ordered Hogan to destroy his equipment and evacuate as many of his men as possible.

To destroy his equipment without giving away his plans to the Germans, Hogan could not burn it or use demolitions. To the well-trained maintenance crews and gunners, the solution became obvious. All American teenagers know that when you get angry at your buddy and want to get back at him, you put sugar in his gas tank to destroy it. This is exactly what they did to all the engines. At the same time, they destroyed the firing pins of the tanks and the artillery pieces and buried the breechblocks in the dirt. They also dismantled many machine guns and heavy weapons and scattered their parts.

Finally, the men blackened their faces and under the cover of darkness began to slip out in groups of ten to twenty. Colonel Hogan had a difficult time walking in his air force boots, but he finally got back safely to our lines. When questioned by General Rose as to why he was the last man out, Hogan could have given him some heroic textbook answer. Instead, in his typical Texas drawl he said, “General, my damn feet hurt.”

Task Force Hogan kept the 116th Panzer Division from exploiting its quick advantage in obtaining bridgeheads across the Ourthe River. All three task forces slowed the Germans considerably and disrupted them until American reinforcements began to arrive.

On the morning of December 21, Combat Command A reverted back to division control followed by CCB on December 24. They were joined by two regimental combat teams from the 75th Infantry Division and some other units. The 3d Armored Division was practically up to the strength of a full armored corps.

The 2d SS Panzer Division, joined by elements of the 12th SS Panzer Division, had driven up through Manhay and occupied Grandménil. When they attempted to turn west and tried to outflank the 3d Armored Division, they were stopped cold and driven back. After major assaults and much back-and-forth fighting with small task groups, the line began to stabilize. The time had come to regroup and build up for the counterattack.

German Air Attack

When CCB reverted back to the division on Christmas Eve, I decided to return to the maintenance battalion headquarters company and deliver my combat loss report. I had heard that orders were issued to deliver at least one hot dinner on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day to all troops if possible. I was tired of eating cold K rations and 10-N-1s by this time.

Headquarters company maintenance battalion had moved into a large rock quarry in Aywaille. The quarry, big enough to hold the entire company and all its vehicles, was approximately half a mile square and had walls extending fifty to sixty feet above the quarry floor, which was relatively even and made an ideal working area. The entrance was down a gradual slope of crushed stone. A number of buildings provided cover for work areas.

By a rare coincidence, we arrived at headquarters company shortly before chow. I told my driver, White, to get the vehicle gassed up and checked out, get himself some chow, and be prepared to leave on a moment’s notice.

The officers’ mess was set up in a lean-to next to one of the buildings. I sat down at the table looking forward to a good meal. I couldn’t remember when I’d last had a real hot meal served in a chow line.

Suddenly, a low, rumbling noise erupted out of nowhere and exploded into an awesome crescendo as a low-flying plane came screaming over the quarry. A sentry rushed in and told Colonel McCarthy that it was a German fighter plane but it was flying so low and so fast that our antiaircraft gunners didn’t get in a shot.

There were disadvantages to being in a defiladed position such as this. The antiaircraft gunners had no visibility over the edge of the quarry, so they couldn’t see an approaching plane until it was right on top of us. Everybody ran out of the quarry shed and immediately took cover. We expected the plane to make a wide turn and come in on a strafing run. I found a perfect foxhole, about three feet wide by four feet deep by ten feet long, where a large block had been removed. There were similar holes all around the quarry, and they were soon filled with men.

After what seemed to be eons of time waiting for the German fighter plane to return, although it was actually less than a minute, we heard a low, rumbling noise. It was music to our ears. Directly overhead was a large group of B17 heavy bombers flying at about twenty thousand feet. We could see them clearly because the clouds had disappeared the night before and the sky was crystal clear for the first time in weeks. There were three squadrons staggered in a V formation. To the rear we could see other groups following. This was the first day since the German offensive began that large masses of American bombers were out to attack.

In my fascination at looking at these beautiful planes, I forgot momentarily about the German fighter plane. My binoculars were in the Jeep, so I strained my eyes to look up at this magnificent sight. The lead squadron, some twelve Flying Fortresses, was directly above the quarry and was leaving long contrails like a series of diamond necklaces in the sky. The column extended as far as the eye could see over the horizon. The sight was further enhanced by the eruption of dozens of small, flashing lights, like snowflakes rotating in the sun, around the planes in the lead squadron.

My fascination turned to horror as suddenly the lead plane in the squadron exploded in midair. Another explosion cut the tail off one of the Flying Fortresses; the main body of the plane tumbled toward the earth as the tail section slowly fluttered back and forth like a maple leaf descending in the breeze. Another explosion sheared off the entire wing of one of the Fortresses, and it spiraled toward the quarry. Two other B17s with their engines on fire broke out of the column and started spiraling like wounded birds struck with flaming arrows. The spirals became tighter and tighter as the planes plunged headlong to earth.

I was so engrossed by this sight that it was some time before I could discern nine German fighter planes lined up perpendicular to the direction of flight to the first squadron. They were flying several thousand feet to the rear of the lead squadron, just far enough to be out of range of the .50-caliber machine guns of the tail gunners. The rocket-firing German fighters were accurate. Out of twelve planes in the lead squadron, they shot down five.

The skies filled with parachutes. I counted twenty-five in the air and figured that approximately half the crews had escaped. The sky was also filled with the debris of broken, twisted airplanes as they plummeted downward. There were landing gears, engines, pieces of wing, parts of fuselages, and even bombs falling. Some of the bombs, even though they were unarmed, exploded on impact with the ground. Fortunately, none of them landed directly in the quarry. As if in some giant apocalypse, the heavens literally exploded, raining a deluge of fire upon the earth below.

The Flying Fortress with its right wing sheared off struck the ground about fifty yards beyond the edge of the quarry. The explosion rocked the ground as the gasoline and the bomb load went off. A column of flame and debris erupted some thousand feet into the air, scattering parts in all directions. Had the bomber crashed into the hard stone floor of the quarry, the blast might have annihilated our entire company.

Anytime an airman parachuted down in our area, we sent out patrols with medics to pick him up. When the patrol reached the fallen tail section of the Flying Fortress, they noticed a body in the tail gunner’s seat. The medics had to forcibly break the hatch to remove the body. Apparently, the tail gunner had not been able to escape because the crawl zone between his position and the rest of the plane was crushed flat.

As the medics removed the tail gunner from beneath the canopy, they discovered that he was still alive. They put him on a stretcher and after a quick examination determined that he had no wounds. When he regained consciousness, he told the medics that he thought he’d fainted.

Another parachute was about five hundred feet in the air and descending earthward when we noticed what appeared to be a section of wing falling directly on top of him. We screamed and waved frantically to get him to slip his chute to one side. He obviously did not hear us. The wing continued downward, shearing the parachute in half; the young airman fell to his death. It was terrible to think that he had parachuted safely from twenty thousand feet, then was killed by this falling piece of debris.

Yet another parachute was heading directly into the middle of the quarry. And this brought on something I did not believe could happen. I had heard of instances like this but did not think that they actually occurred. When it was about a thousand feet above the quarry, a lone German ME109 fighter dove down and headed straight toward the parachute with all of its machine guns wide open. We screamed and hollered and waved our arms to try to warn him, but we couldn’t fire any antiaircraft guns because we were afraid of hitting him. He saw us, and kicking violently he slipped his chute to one side. The German plane missed him on the first pass.

The German pilot was apparently obsessed with killing this helpless young airman, because he made a second wide turn and came back for another pass, firing the machine guns again. By this time the parachute was much lower, and the German pilot was so intent on cold-blooded murder that he crashed into the side of the quarry in a terrible explosion. If there was ever a case of retribution in war, this was it.

The medics brought in the airman, who turned out to be a bombardier. He had not been hit. His worst injury was a frozen foot as a result of having kicked off his flying boot when he was trying to slip his chute. All these airman were taken to the aid station and evacuated back to the army hospital.

In spite of the falling debris and exploding bombs and aircraft, our company in the rock quarry received no major injuries or damage. I finally figured out what the German plane that had buzzed the quarry a few minutes before the air battle started was doing. It was a low-flying reconnaissance plane radioing back the position of the lead bomber squadron. Because our bombers were still over friendly territory, they had not picked up any fighter escort.

If I’d had a color movie camera and could have laid on my back in my stone foxhole, I could probably have gotten the most spectacular aerial battle of the war on film. I realized the terrible risk the young bomber crews took. Air battles are sudden and last only a few seconds or minutes. Like all combat, you are killed outright or wounded or you survive to fight another day.