Death Traps: The Survival of an American Armored Division in World War II (22 page)

The American Counterattack

By this time, the U.S. Army had gained a great deal of experience in planning a frontal assault. General Collins realized that the GHQ tank battalions and infantry did not have sufficient armored power to make a major assault in open country, where the enemy could bring large concentrations of fire against them.

From December 30 through January 3, the enemy, realizing our next possible move, had prepared a series of strongpoints in depth over the rolling open country immediately in front of us. The main line of advance went through this area for about three miles. The next couple of miles consisted of heavy woods, then open country again.

The planned tactics for this operation used the armored division with additional infantry to make the initial assault across the open country. When they reached the woods, with its narrow roads and logging trails, the infantry passed through the armored division. Once clear of the woods, the armored division again moved ahead of the infantry. This tactic seemed to take advantage of the best capabilities of both the infantry division and the armored division.

Accompanied by the extremely heavy barrage using the proximity fuses, the attack started on the morning of January 3. The 3d Armored Division and 83d Infantry Division were to the east of highway N15, and the 2d Armored Division and 84th Infantry Division were to the west. Because the German main effort had been to the north in this area, when we started our counterattack southward we were still opposed by scattered remnants of three German panzer divisions and two
volksgrenadier
divisions. They put up a terrific fight.

The Germans were past masters at defense against armor by using their own armor skillfully. They took every advantage of their superior armor and used the buildings and rubble of the small fortified villages to conceal their tanks and self-propelled guns. Even when attacking one of these strongpoints with a combination of infantry supported by armor and preceded by a quick, heavy artillery barrage, we still sustained heavy losses in our tanks.

The losses probably would have been much greater had it not been for the M7 self-propelled 105mm howitzer. Able to fire for effect immediately from almost any position, the M7 could put down a deadly fire of proximity fuse overhead airbursts. It could also fire white phosphorus shells, which put out a lot of smoke and inhibited the German observation. I have always felt that the M7 gun carriage was one of the most effective weapons we had.

With the weather beginning to clear up, we got more and more support from the Ninth Air Force P47 dive-bombers. We had to be extremely careful in calling for air strikes because of the close proximity of our troops to the Germans. In a fluid situation such as this, it was easy for the air force to be confused and bomb the wrong targets. We were always excited to see the air force come in because we knew that the Germans would really catch hell.

The heavy armor losses we had sustained so far in the Battle of the Bulge resulted in a critical shortage of tank crews. The M4 Sherman normally had a five-man crew: the driver; the assistant driver, who rode next to him and manned the ball-mount .30-caliber machine gun; the assistant gunner, who sat on the left side of the turret and loaded the main gun; the gunner, who sat on the right side of the turret and fired the gun; and the tank commander, who sat at the rear of the turret and operated the radio.

There was a small cupola with a periscopic sight in the hatch cover directly over the tank commander. When the tank was under artillery fire, the tank commander kept the hatch closed and buttoned up; however, the tank often rode with the hatch open for better visibility.

As casualties became more acute, we first had to eliminate the assistant driver. This denied the tank the use of the ball-mount machine gun, which was particularly effective against infantry. Later on, we had to eliminate the assistant gunner, and the tank commander had to double as the loader. This gave us a three-man crew, a bare minimum to operate a tank.

On the afternoon of January 8 at Werbomont, C Company was getting seventeen tanks ready to issue to the troops. Some had been knocked out previously and been repaired; some were brand-new tanks sent from army ordnance as replacements. It was our job to get the tanks ready and find crews to man them.

The 33d Armored Regiment had sent us seventeen tank crewmen who had limited experience with tanks in combat. These men had come in as replacements themselves only a few days before. The G1 had sent thirty-five men who had just gotten off the boat in Antwerp a few hours earlier and didn’t seem to have received previous indoctrination. We asked how many had previous experience with tanks, and they all replied negative. Most had never been in a tank or even close to one.

We selected thirty-four men and split them into two-man crews. These men, along with the drivers, made up seventeen three-man crews for the tanks. They were all given a brief orientation of what a tank was all about and shown various items of equipment, the machine guns, and the ammunition boxes. The tanks had already been filled with gasoline and were lubricated and ready to go.

Several artillery mechanics took the tanks to the edge of the field. They swung the turret to one side and loaded the guns with armor-piercing ammunition to prevent any explosion. Each crew member got to fire three rounds with the main gun. (The men had already had basic training, so they were familiar with machine guns.) This was all the training that time permitted before they were taken to their units by guides from the 33d Armored Regiment. It was about 1500.

Going down to the 33d Armored Regiment at about 1900 it was discovered that of the seventeen tanks issued, fifteen had been knocked out and destroyed along the side of the road. I was unable to find out how many, if any, of these young crew members had survived. This tragedy was destined to be repeated many times.

By January 9, the 3d Armored Division had completed the first phase of the operation and reached the edge of the heavily wooded area. The 83d Infantry Division passed through and cleared the woods for the next two to three miles. By January 13, the woods had been pretty well cleared of
panzerfaust
crews and mines along the small logging trails.

The division passed through the woods and through the infantry again, then started on its last and final push across the open rolling terrain, which was heavily fortified. For the last ten days, the Germans had fought a bitter rear-guard action, and we had advanced ten miles to the southern edge of the woods. On the thirteenth, the division passed through the 83d Infantry Division again, then proceeded toward its final objective: to cut the main highway east from Houffalize, then occupy the high ground in the vicinity of Brisy.

The Germans fought bitterly to keep us from cutting off their final escape route. German tanks and armored infantry jammed the highway and set up heavy fortified positions around Stommeln. On January 15, Combat Command B set up a roadblock just east of Stommeln, cutting the German escape route. They then proceeded southward to Brisy and occupied the high ground north of the river.

Having achieved our final objective, we held this ground, and the 84th Infantry and 2d Armored Divisions bypassed us to the west and proceeded toward Houffalize. On January 16, in the vicinity of Houffalize, elements of the 84th Infantry Division made contact with the 11th Armored Division proceeding northward from the Third Army, completing this phase of the Ardennes campaign. On January 20, our division moved into the Barvaux-Durbuy area for rest and rehabilitation.

The maintenance and supply units worked feverishly to get the division back up to strength. There were no trained tank crew replacements; all came from the infantry recruit pool. These men were integrated with the survivors of existing tank crews and given intensive training for the next few days. At least they had a much better chance for survival than the young crews brought down to us at Werbomont on January 8. Captain Tom Sembera secured our proper share of replacement tanks and other vehicles. We were now beginning to get a number of the new M4A1 medium tanks with a 76mm gun and a 550-horsepower V8 Ford engine.

Casualties

The Battle of the Bulge drew to a rapid and final conclusion. By January 28, the Germans had been driven back to their original line of departure. The fighting had been savage, and both sides were heavily bloodied. The approximate casualties were 81,000 Americans and 100,000 Germans. The 3d Armored Division alone, from December 16 through January 20, lost 125 M4 medium tanks, 38 M5 light tanks, 6 M7 self-propelled guns, and 158 half-tracks, armored cars, and other vehicles.

On Leave to Reims

After a few days in our new rest area, the division commander directed that as many officers and men as possible be given time off for rest and relaxation. During a visit to one of the ordnance depots at Reims, Captain Sembera was approached in the joint officers’ mess one evening by a young captain who had noticed the captain’s 3d Armored Division Spearhead shoulder patch. He also noticed the ordnance bomb insignia on his lapel. The captain identified himself as my brother George, and asked Sembera if he might know me.

Sembera broke out in a broad grin. “Hell, yes, I know him. He’s one of my old buddies. He’s always bitching to get him more damned tanks. He’s liaison with CCB and loses more tanks and fouls up more than anybody else. He really gives me a hard time. He’s one of the reasons I’m back here.”

George told him that he was an executive officer in one of the quartermaster truck groups stationed in Reims and gave him his address. The next time I saw Tommy, he told me about meeting George and gave me the address. Until then, I knew that George was somewhere in France but had no idea where. All I’d had was his APO number.

After a few days in the rest area, things seemed to be going a lot better, and I asked Major Arrington if I could take a couple of days to go back to Reims to visit my brother. The major told Captain Ellis to cut an order sending me to Reims for three days on official ordnance business, so it wouldn’t count against my leave. When I told Wrayford we were going to Reims, his face lit up. “Lieutenant, I’m going to have to shave extra good this time.”

Wrayford got water from one of the decontamination trucks and even managed to wash the Jeep. We straightened all our gear as best we could, then took off like a couple of foxes going to a chicken reunion.

We left maintenance battalion headquarters at Pair and headed toward Werbomont. The weather had warmed up considerably, and most of the ice and snow had melted. On the route through Marche and Sedan to Reims, the roads were littered with both American and German vehicles but mostly tanks and half-tracks from the German 2d SS Panzer Division.

The main highways in this part of France were straight and broad and lined with poplar trees. They were paved with blacktop in the country and with Belgian block near villages and small cities. I first thought that this would be an ideal area for a road net for the COMZ communication. To my surprise, however, the roads were in terrible condition. There were stretches along the main highway varying from a hundred yards to a quarter mile along where the road had completely collapsed due to heavy military traffic. We passed numerous engineering construction battalions rebuilding the roads, using both German prisoners and French civilians to help them.

After arriving in Reims, we located the headquarters of George’s quartermaster truck group. Although I had written down the address that Tommy gave me, I had committed it to memory many times. It was 32 Rue de Moisson and was located in an elegant neighborhood. The street contained a number of beautiful eighteenth-century French town houses with walled formal gardens in the backyard, similar to many English homes.

Number 32 was a three-story house, the highest on the street. It had an impressive gray granite facade with carved lintels over the door and windows. The upper windows had small balconies with wrought-iron grillwork. I knew that if George had anything to do with selecting these billets, he had chosen this one, because he always liked to go first class. We parked the Jeep in front and went inside.

The hallway had a black and white Italian marble floor and walls paneled and festooned with bronze sconces and French paintings. I was impressed, especially after having lived in barns and the cold stone basements of Belgian farmhouses. Even the château at Pair, where headquarters company was located, paled in comparison to this beautiful home.

A corporal sat at a desk in the main hallway, and I asked him if Captain Cooper was in. He said his office was upstairs just to the right of the stairway. I told him I was his brother but to be sure not to tell him.

He kind of grinned and picked up the phone. “Captain, some beat-up-looking lieutenant down here wants to see you.”

As the corporal escorted me upstairs, he told me that the house used to be a French bawdy house accommodating German officers. The walls were covered with erotic paintings of nude women in nefarious poses.

As I walked into the room, George was busy reading. When he raised his head, he looked shocked; he hadn’t known whether I was alive. It had been back in November when Sembera told him I was okay. We embraced warmly and both started talking at once. I told him that Sembera had given me his address and I’d just decided to come see him. In the meantime, Wrayford and the corporal had struck up an acquaintance. George told the corporal to get Wrayford some quarters, clean clothes, and a shower, then to take him over to the NCO club and show him around.

We went over to George’s quarters, around the corner and several doors down the street. It was a three-story French house facing the street with an entrance hall that went straight through to a garden in the rear. There was a spiral stairway, a large potbellied stove located on the ground floor, and a stovepipe that extended all the way up three floors through the roof. This apparently was the main source of heat for the entire house.

George said that Madame Fochée, the matriarch of the family, lived downstairs with her husband and three young children. The army had taken over the two upper floors. His room was on the third floor and looked out on the rear garden. After about two hours of intense conversation, we had exhausted all of our news and brought each other up-to-date on our respective lives for the last two years. He showed me pictures of my niece, Dotsie, who was now a year old. I remembered her birthday, October 3, because it was the day we had arrived in England in 1943 and was also the day before my birthday.

That evening we went to the joint officers’ mess club. The next three days I had plenty of good food, Cognac, and fine wine. Wrayford and the corporal apparently got along well and spent time seeing many of the charms of Reims. We were both sorry to see our visit end. It had been like a breath of fresh air injected into the devastation of war.