HQ Company 41st Tank Battalion History by Fred Sell THE BIG PICTURE We boarded the British troop transport Samaria
from a pier opposite Madison Square Garden in the late afternoon of September
28th. As though our spirits were not low enough, it had to be a miserable,
rainy day. With our packs, duffle bags, and weapons, most of us were about
licked. I don't think that I ever appreciated the Red Cross more than I did
when they gave us coffee and doughnuts on the pier before we boarded the ship. I suppose like most of us, I had often
wondered what my feelings would be as I walked up the gangplank. The only
feeling that I remember having was, thank God, I would soon be able to get
that pack off my back and rest. But first we had to struggle down several
flights of stairs into the very bottom of the ship. The ship! How shall I describe it? It got us
safely across and I suppose I should feel grateful. But the ship was old,
dirty, and smelly. Worst of all was the food. The only time I thought I was
going to get seasick was the morning they served herring for breakfast. There
were times when I wondered if we were going over to help England or fight her. We put out to sea about 0430 the following
morning and one day followed another with a sameness that became extremely
monotonous. On the morning of the 10th of October we dropped anchor outside
the harbor of Liverpool and stayed there until the following morning when we
entered the harbor itself. At 0800 on the morning of the 12th we disembarked
and marched through the streets of Liverpool to the railroad station. My
glimpse of Liverpool was fleeting, and my chief impression was one of narrow
streets and old buildings. As we walked along with full field equipment many
of us felt the tears wet on our cheeks for the first time on foreign soil.
Maybe it was because the women and children, who lined the streets to cheer
us, were crying. Many of these people saw their loved ones walk off as
soldiers, never to return. In us they saw their fathers, brothers, and
husbands; in them we saw our loved ones silently praying for our return. We
suddenly realized that we were no longer soldiers on maneuvers, but soldiers
on the way, to crush and be crushed, to kill and be killed. I was amused at first sight by the smallness
of the English coaches but they turned out to be surprisingly comfortable. The
trip through the English countryside was something that I had always looked
forward to and I enjoyed it immensely. The neatness of the towns, the
landscape, and the many little gardens impressed me. It seemed good that after
so many years of war the English could still find time and room to grow some
flowers. That same evening we arrived at Warminster in
Southwestern England and proceeded by bus to Longbridge Deverill. We were
there only a little more than a week, but that gave us plenty of time to
locate all the pubs in the neighborhood. The English beer was about as bad as
I had expected, so warm and tasteless. No one seemed sorry when we moved from
'Longnose Devericks' to Tilshead Barracks, twelve miles east of Warminster. We
drew new vehicles and most of the time was spent getting them and us in shape
for combat. Von Rundstedt was sweating out preparations
for his Christmas pass in Paris while we were sweating out passes to London.
I've often wondered if the men who did not visit London realize their loss.
Sgt. Bryant often said, 'It isn't worth going 60 miles to see.' I found a
letter written by a GI who didn't get to see YE OLDE LONDON and who evidently
felt it was worth traveling to the end of the earth. The letter itself is
unfinished, as is the very life of the GI. It reads: Dear— The majestic sounds which carried through the
darkened streets suggested one source and the foreigner automatically strains
to see through the fog what literally stands above all. Big Ben in its drab
but stately appearance, shrouded with a cloak of lifetimes aching to tell the
passerby to slow down. Instead she bongs out a rhythm in cadence with the
over-burdened heart of an old man At the sight of Big Ben some mediation
seemed in order but just as though 'sounds of might' dissolved into the night
so did silence creep into the scene. The pitter patter of rain on the
sidewalks of London aided though meditater until split seconds after all hell
broke loose and amid the falling ruins I awoke safe and sound in what I call
my bed. Yes darling, even after two weeks of planning I had to be satisfied
with a dream but someday my chance will come and when it does I'll be the
passerby, the meditator, the foreigner, only my thoughts will not be
interrupted by Hitler's V-2s. No, darling, when I hear Big Ben, the war with
be far in the past and with each stroke I'll cuddle closer to you. On the day of the German breakthrough in
Belgium we were alerted to move. As usual it was raining when we moved out on
the morning of December 17th. We stayed overnight in Weymouth and the next
morning boarded an LST, pushing off at 0730 on the 19th. Our luck held as the
weather was perfect and the channel, which has been described as the roughest
body of water in the world, remained calm for us. The cleanliness of the ship
and the ''good food was of great contrast to the 'Samaria'. Our invasion of the Cherbourg Peninsula was
exciting even though we were in the one-hundredthsome wave. As our tanks
roared from the mouth of LST 353 we felt like the THUNDERBOLTS. We were
nicknamed. Our original assignment was to keep in check
or wipe out the Lorient pocket but the Nazi offensive was becoming a threat
far greater than first realized. The 11th Armored Division was ordered on the
double to the scene of the Battle of the Bulge. The vehicles were thrown in
high gear; the rat race was only 84 miles of destroyed French countryside lay
behind us after the first day of the road march. When we reached Falaise we
were alerted for enemy paratroopers and learned that the Nazis had over-run
VII Corps front and had spearheads 50 miles into our lines at some points. The
race continued 75 miles closer on the 23rd; 122 miles on the 24th. After Christmas dinner of turkey, and an
introduction to the Luftwaffe we left Soissons, France, half-mad, half-scared,
and half-frozen. The 550 miles of unsure French and Belgium roads were
conquered and directly in our path were Rundstedt's shock troops, young,
confident and tough. Yank magazine called them Germany's cream; we called the
bastards. There's something about that first day in
battle, something it is hard to relate, something that always stays with you,
inside, but can never be expressed in speech or script. It's like a nightmare
the smog of smoke, fire, and death. Your stomach crowds your heart, your
breathing comes in spasms. It's a combination of fear and hate, a combination
that when present in an American soldier only tends to spur him on to ultimate
victory. Inevitably must come very first sight of a casualty. Some say you get
used to seeing the torn flesh of a soldier, but personally I think that few
ever get used to seeing death as horrible as only WAR can make it. I doubt if there is a man in the company who
will ever forget NOSE. Nose the peep and Devericks the Nose. The peep was born
in England. (If I were selling bonds I'd mention how the combined efforts of
Mom. Dad, and Sis, on the home front assisted in the birth of Nose. I'm not
selling bonds but that doesn't mean that we're not thankful to the folks back
home. Ours would have been a lost cause without ARIZONA, MIAMI, TRI-STATE,
GLORY, CHEROKEE STRIP, JAN, LIL, ALEC, MARTHA, NYOMO, and all the rest.) Yes,
Nose was rightfully born in England. At 0400 on the 17th of December t944 in a
torrent of rain, T/4 Estok with paint brush in hand, debated the name in
question. Fifty minutes later Nose the peep was rolling over the hills of
England with Devericks the Nose behind the wheel. The second ten minute
necessity stop that morning, found Deverecks ready and eager to climb into the
kitchen truck for a nap. Seeking diversion, yours truly took the wheel. Had I
only known how humanly efficient Nose was destined to be, I would have
released my grip on the wheel, and let Nose choose, upon sight of that fork in
the road. The Company in front was out of sight—there were no tracks—and
in a last minute of sweat I turned to Captain Wilkins. His quick thinking
saved our Company and the rest of the Battalion from ending up in Tipperary,
instead of Weymouth. In the days which were to follow, NOSE proved herself
worthy of Headquarters and Headquarters Company. As Sergeant Bryant claims,
and as Devericks and I will verify, Nose had a brain. Many times when an
artillery barrage caught us alone, the only thing necessary was to jump, Nose
would choke up to a dead stop on the side and wait for us. Ridiculous as this
may sound it is true, for I quote one experience of Bryant's: 'When
we were near Houffalize, Devericks and I had been traveling back and forth on
the Bastogne-Houffalize Highway loading ammunition vehicles to though forward
Assault Gun position.
It was a treacherous, snow-covered road and Nose was always getting stuck in
snow-drifts and ditches. She didn't come near getting stuck when the Krauts
started throwing some heavy stuff at us. No Sir, Nose took off like a BAB and
didn't know the meaning of STUCK till the mission was completed.' In interesting connection with the human
ability of Nose is the Easter Sunday experience Devericks and I encountered.
We were following the Light Tank, as usual, when that rain of lead came in
from both flanks. After we 'dropped' back to the Big Boys, we kept speeding
between and around the tanks, seeking armored protection from the flying
bullets. Suddenly Nose had a coughing spell and commenced to jerk the same as
any peep will jerk when the accelerator is quickly depressed and released. One
of those jerks moved us about half an inch from the path of one meant for us.
It buried in the 510 Radio. Devericks could never figure out what happened.
Perhaps the gas line was clogged, but we like to think Nose knew what was
happening, and saved our lives. o Our Mortar Platoon (popularly known as the
stove pipe crew) played very important part in maintaining high morale. Having
not one quarter as much armor protection as the tankers, they, as matter of
necessity, and at every stop, began digging frantically into Mother Earth. The
tankers seeing this, realized how lucky they were to have those great big
tanks, even though they did make a hell of big target for 88's and
Panzerfausts. In any event here is story—of the men and by the men of the
Mortar Platoon: 'All we can say for the first day in combat is
that some laundry concern's stock must have soared to a new height on that
day. Why? Well, a few hours after being committed to battle, we entered the
first town we had fought for. We had expected to enter it practically at the
tail end of the column, but to our surprise, we found that we were one of the
first groups. Even the infantry hadn't finished mopping up the place as Vigen,
Weiting, Duncan, and BW, (as our platoon leader was affectionately called)
found out. Imagine their surprise, when a machine gun opened up on them. In
retrospect, it was one of the funniest scenes to witness You should hove seen
those boys dive for the ground. Surely the entire German Army was surrounding
us and getting ready for the kill. When lo and behold, who should stick their
heads around our building (crouching like good soldiers, just finished reading
training manual TM-00-MIAI) but Van, Hall, Ross, Quinn, and a few others. No
doubt this was a gift from heaven. Now, those lowly rots, the Krauts, would
get what was coming to them. After all, wasn't the Mortar Platoon practically
all present and accounted for? (Even our o formation Vigen couldn't assemble
such a quantity of men, let alone the superb quality of these men) like all
good Horatio Alger stories, everything turned out all right (Editors note:
Well what happened to the machine gun?) Previous to entering the town, all the
squads got their first taste of enemy artillery barrage. I am sure that Von
Rundstedt must have given specific orders to get the Mortar Platoon at all
costs. No matter what he threw, he couldn't hit us, the bully. And that brings
to an end the illustrious initiation to war for the Mortar Platoon. Oh before
I forget, while all this was taking place, Alton Hall was seen walking down the road, calm as could be, with a package and some mail. He had one
package delivered to him. A fountain pen. What a time, what a place, and what
a package. Not only did we hove Jerry to worry about but
at times we of the Mortar Platoon had our friend, Shuman and his prescribed
ways and means of keeping warm. The ingredients; take some increments, a half
track, some gas, and a number of sleeping men. At 0200 you lay the groundwork.
What happens after this can best be described by the events of that memorable
night outside of Hemeroule. The men were asleep under the half-track. When it
got hotter than Shuman expected and things got out of hand, his efforts to
extinguish though flames roused those asleep. A new world's record was set by
Elmer Sperbock in getting the fire extinguisher. (If you hove ever tried to
pry loose a fire extinguisher in a half track you know what we mean). While
everyone was busily engaged in extinguishing though fire, it was reported that
John J. Kwoka just turned over and continued peacefully in the arms of
Morpheus. Perhaps after the previous blastings of Jerry, John J. thought that
he was entirely immune from any casualty that could be inflicted by his own
men, Shuman included. Many times we thought how unfair the original
TE was to the members of a Mortar Platoon. There we were equipped with
half-tracks, while the other members of though company rode around in the
comparative safety of tanks. Who was responsible for this gross oversight? How
we longed to have tanks, and live up to the true name of tankers. Then one day
our smoke dreams came true, only to be blown away. For awhile we were happy,
as the following proves. On this day in Bercheaux we were going along in our
usual manner, the maintenance of our half-tracks, the cleaning of our weapons,
and though normal amount of goldbricking. FLASH! The Mortar Platoon was going
to replace their half-tracks with tanks. They were to arrive that afternoon.
How we all looked forward to those tanks. Dreams cropped up. How our Iron
Horses would charge along into the thick of battle and disperse the enemy.
Something that would never happen with our half-tracks. We would show the
skeptics what the Mortar Platoon could do. The tanks arrived. What matter if
we received only three instead of four. The Headquarters squad would have to
use the halftrack and Pignato would still have to push the buttons of his
radio with only the protection of 3/8 inches instead of the 3 inches in a tank
turret. The balance of the platoon industrially applied themselves to though
task of preparing the tanks for the next operation. Time meant little to them
at that moment. Thoughts of goldbricking vanished. Everyone chipped in
painting, loading ammo, storing rations, learning though intricacies of the
operation of the tank and running problems. All eager to learn as much as
possible in such a short space of lime. Though order came out. We were moving
the next day. Hurried last minute preparations. At last we were ready to roll.
Everyone wont to sleep that night confident that the next day would show the
true value of accomplishments of the Mortar Platoon. Dreaming heroic dreams of
blazing a path for newer and greater victories for the Battalion. The next
morning everyone was up bright and early; eager to be off. The Battalion moved
out. On the march! Was the Mortar Platoon riding on the crest of happiness?
Was the Mortar Platoon jubilant as they had been the day before? No, because
one hour before moving out, we had to turn though tanks back. We were riding
out to war, as usual, in our halftracks. Let us pause here for one moment to
remember who boys who are not with us at the present. To a swell kid, Harold
Ouinn. He was liked by everyone that was associated with him. He knew his duty
and was always there when needed. On that morning of January 15th Jerry sent
over a barrage, and while the furthermost thought in Harold's mind was to be a
hero, he stuck to the radio. We lost a swell friend, that morning, Harold, the
memory of your friendship will linger forever with us. And to you other boys,
Hayes, Waldrup, Swensrud, Woiting, Taub and Slossar, we often think of you and
wish you the best of luck. Our Reconnaissance Platoon, in the heat of
battle itself always found something to laugh about, but they couldn't help
it. Almost everything they did was humorous. After a little persuasion George
Harris consented to relate a few stories: 'This little incident happened on the second
or third day of battle while the Recon Platoon was acting as flank security
for the Battalion. Our half-track and peeps had advanced cross country until
we were opposite a small town that the infantry should have taken some hours
earlier. Instead of greeting dough Boys we were greeted by Kraut thirty-one
caliber. Two of the peeps were pinned down and the occupants were underneath
them. They weren't performing first echelon either) We in the half-track were
busy firing at anything we could see and a lot that wasn't in sight. We called
for help and some tanks from A Company came to see what they could do to aid
us. I was using my carbine, Kirk was struggling with though Filty, and Kratz
and Colabrese were having target practice with their M-1s. I sighted on a
house that looked like it might have sheltered some of the krauts, aimed for a
window, and pulled the trigger. When I opened my eyes after the explosion the
building lay in ruins. It seems a Sherman opened up on it with a 75MM and I
gave credit for an assist.
Our first day in battle was not so humorous.
We had led the separate companies up to the line of departure and there wasn't
much left to do with the exception of dodge shells. All of our vehicles
(Recon's) were parked on a hillside and we were watching the battle unfold
before us, just interested spectators. Occasionally an 88 round would burst in
the fields before us, but they were of no concern to us at the lime. The thing
that we failed to notice about them was the fact that each one came about a
hundred yards closer our to position. I was listening to the radio and some of
the boys were standing to the rear of the half-track batting the breeze when
one of the 88s whistled over our heads and landed about 20 yards away. The
concussion knocked Fry, Kratz, Scott, and Parkhurst to the ground. Scott and
Parkhurst were wounded in the legs by shrapnel. A shower of dirt descended on
the halftrack and the noise an dirt caused me to jump from the vehicle and
search for better protection. It was then I noticed though full picture and
started over to help. Neither Scott nor Parkhurst were seriously injured but
it seems ironical that after all the months of training they should be put out
of action on the first day without an opportunity to fire a shot. Meanwhile
Lt. Justice had ordered our vehicles away from the crest of this hill as the
Krauts were making it fairly hot. As we drove back to the other side the hill,
the stuff came in there, however we made it safely into the town of Houmont
taken earlier in the morning. In the evening we rejoined our Battalion where
we assumed the duties of CP guard. The sidewalk in front of the Charlie Peter
was our bed for the night. It seemed colder than usual when we crawled out of
those Bed Rolls the morning of December 30th. Captain Wilkins designated me as
his messenger. This was much to my delight although many times later I wished
I hadn't done it. Nose's radio was kaput and I guess for that reason
everything seemed so confused to me. Weaving through those snow drifts between
the tanks trying to keep up with Old Man, was a tough job for Nose, but Nose
was just as excited as were we. We had no artillery support even though the
Krauts were giving us plenty and we were getting a taste of those damnable
88's. As we plowed through the snow past Curls tank I waved and yelled hello.
That was a hell of a place to say hello, much less wave. The Assault and
Mortar Platoons were dispersed on a forward slope of the high ground West of
Lavaselle as the COs half-track edged forward and Nose followed. From the left
flank three tracks of 21st Infantry doughs pulled up within spitting distance.
They dismounted and made their way across the cold white snow. In the same
amount of time it takes a machine gun to spit 30 or 40 slugs and before we
knew what had happened, five American doughs coughed blood simultaneously.
Captain Wilkins sent me back for the Medics. Nose headed cross country, hit
the road, and picked up the scent. We found Lt. Marzano running from one GI to
another administering first aid while the Krauts actually POURED the Mortars
in on that road. T'wasn't real heavy stuff. They made a hole about as big as
the kind you always see Whitlock digging. Lt. Marzano was certainly far too
busy so we moved on and completed our circle, finding an Ambulance about a
hundred yards from where we started. Everybody had moved out and as the Medics
went to work, Devericks and I started looking for the Old Man. After much
difficulty we finally ran across a rough circle of tanks to the left of which
we spotted the gleaming Captain bars. Henrie Allen, our mail clerk, spent most
of his time in the Old Man's track and here's his story: "Sometimes I wonder how our halt-track
missed it that first day. The Old Man was just like he always was and didn't
want to miss a trick. He took us right up among the tanks with artillery and
mortars falling all around us, but our luck held. I can still hear Bedgood
saying Sir, don't you think we had better move?' It amused me when Captain
Wilkins lost his helmet. He was out the half-track and as an artillery barrage
came in he made a dive or the ditch. His helmet came off and was promptly run
over by tank. He looked as near sheepish when he came back to the track as I
ever saw the old Man. I think our crew was very lucky that he soon got a light
tank to use and we didn't have to take the track into such exposed positions. We know Allen, and we also know that he spent
most of his time in that track, comfortably propped up, smoking cigars, and
reading a week old Stars and Stripes. Remember the look of surprise on Lt. Warren's
face when he jumped out of his track rubbing his hands together like he was
trying to keep warm and swing a deal at the same time! Although I don't
remember his exact words, he said something like—Ah! Here's a good place for
a fox hole. We thought he was having a fit what with all the commotion he went
through to get his Carbine in firing position. However, we realized why, when
those two Krauts came from their machine gun nest in the brush. Weiting held
them at bay with his M-1 while Lt. Warren searched them. Devericks and I had
one hell of a time getting them back to the cage alive but they may have had
information we needed. So what if they weren't in good condition, they could
still talk. The next day the enemy made a light
counterattack which was quickly repelled. Our artillery was then organized and
kept the enemy pinned down while we moved the bivouac one mile from Houmont.
Allen says: I shall never forget this place where we spent
New Year's Eve. Bedgood, Lands and I slept in slit trenches around some apple
trees near the Charlie Peter. During though night a horse came nosing around
and almost fell in on Bedgood. I sure could have used a little New Year's
cheer that night. It was here too, that the Charlie Peter was hit on New
Year's Day. It was the only building standing. I was cleaning my carbine in
one end of the room when the shell struck in the other and where the officers
were. As I looked back, the Colonel looked pretty comical as he came tearing
out that door but I was too scared at the time to appreciate the humor.
Fortunately the round was AP and no one was hurt.' From Maintenance we have an article by Sgt.
Estok and Pvt. Stevens entitled 'On the ball Maintenance.' I quote: 'On the hour of 1830 the order came down,
'Boys, we are moving up.' We swallowed our Adams Apple about three times I
think, because we knew that our destination, the town of 'Monty', had been a
hot spot all that day and things were still plenty warm there. While we were
waiting for the zero hour, Sgt. Estok and Captain Smith (Lt. Smith then) were
making a reconnaissance of company vehicles. On this check it was found that
one of the Mortar halftracks was not in condition to move, due to the fact
that one front tire had a shrapnel hole in it. It was quite a spot for the
maintenance boys then, because there were no spare tires available, and the
tire had to be replaced almost immediately. Our only solution was to remove
the tire from the Maintenance halftrack, so the task was done. We arrived at our destination a little late,
but not too late to experience the fire works that seemed to have started as
we pulled in. It seemed as if everything the enemy had was being thrown at us
and don't ask what direction it was coming from, for it seemed to us like a
cloud burst. Alter sweating in that sub-zero weather, when we speak of
sweating, we really mean sweating, for in about forty-live minutes we were
informed that we were spending the night there. We swallowed our Adam's apple
a couple more times. In a situation like this a person doesn't have to be told
to dig in, it is an automatic thought. The way everybody was hustling to get
his fox-hole dug was quite a sight to see. Maintenance Sgt. Slevens, Sgt.
Tassis, and Cpl. Sauber were swinging picks and shovels like old veterans and
Sgt. Estok, Cpl. Phol, and Cpl. Meyers were nervously awaiting their turn
while standing guard. I believe this happens to be the first time that Cpl.
Sauber has a complete knowledge of the use of a shovel. After this fine
cooperation our progress was very and somewhat discouraging. The next morning
we found out that we had been trying to dig our fox hole in an old road bed.
This was the night that Sgt. Tassie made the decision of whether it was better
to take chances of the enemy shells or kill himself digging in this hard,
frozen road. Eventually we all came to the same conclusion, so under the
halftrack was our protection for the rest of the night. The next morning when
things were more quiet, we finally picked up enough nerve to venture from
under the half-track to check for better protection. About sixty feet from our
vehicle and the place we had been digging, we found already prepared slit
trenches. Most of us were still banging our heads against the wall for not
being for fortunate enough to find such shelter when it was most needed. This experience brings out many laughs now,
but it certainty was not a laughing matter then.
That same day we launched an attack on
Mande-St.Etienne which was halted by
darkness. The next morning the town was taken after heavy fighting. The
Battalion moved into the town after dark and we had snipers and artillery
keeping us awake the entire night. This stands out in my mind as one of the
most miserable nights in my life. As well as the enemy action we had to combat
cold which was almost unbearable. That day (January 3rd) the Battalion was
relieved by the 17th Airborne Division. (Duffy says that was the best day of
1945). We had accomplished our
first mission of cutting the main road leading west from Bastogne, and
we had done it in four days instead of the fourteen which had been allotted. Our casualties in the Company had not been
heavy, although they had been heavy in B and C Companies. Parkhurst and Scott
stopped a couple 88 fragments and Wieting was marked up as battle fatigue.
When I first saw Wieting being helped into that six by six, I thought he had
been hit, and when I went over to talk to him, he didn't recognize me. Every
time a shell would burst, he would double up in agony. His wasn't a bad case
of shell shock. He was just tired and his insides tightened until they must
have snapped. Swensrud and Silla were also evacuated for battle fatigue. Bercheaux was a peaceful little village,
humble as it was. It had all the makings of home and that was what we were
looking for most of all. The first few nights of artillery flashes in the
distance kept reminding us that there was still a war, but after that we
relaxed so completely that War was dismissed from our minds. Fred Berry was
evacuated on January 4th with frozen feet and Vannani was evacuated with a bad
knee. We never did see Vannani again. Seems as though a small piece of
shrapnel lodged in his knee infecting that part of his anatomy. Eddie
Kucharski was still in the hospital recovering from a broken arm he received
when his tank turned over. Eddie laid there, pinned under the back deck, with
gas splashing in his face, and all he had to say about it was: 'Well, I just
stuck to the tank like a Captain to his ship.' The morning of January 9th started out just
like any other morning with the dark gradually working into the light of the
day, everybody struggling out of their Bag, sleeping, Ml, and Sgt. Bryant
having the usual difficulty arousing the few sleepy heads, including myself.
Breakfast around the six by six and then the short but reluctant walk to the
Motor Park. After working a bit on their tanks, Curl, Finnerty, Rosen, and
Estok gathered around a bonfire. Fate played a lonely hand in that someone
failed to notice an 88 MM casing. The boys who gathered to get warm didn't see
it either, but they heard and felt it. Curl and Finnerty suffered shrapnel
wounds about the body, Estok had his face cut up a bit and Rosen with a broken
leg, never rejoined us. It was in Bercheaux that the first Bronze Star Medal
was awarded to a man in our Company. Brigadier General Kilburn pinned the
Bronze Star on Sergeant Miller at a parade held on the impromptu parade
grounds at Bercheaux. The citation reads: 'For bravery in action, sergeant Clifford B.
Miller, Hq and Hq Co 4tst Tank on 1 January 1945 near Brohl, Belgium observed
that the attached Infantry was suffering numerous casualties from two German
Mortars. Sergeant Miller volunteered to move forward from a defiladed position
to fire upon the enemy mortars. It was necessary to move across open terrain
which was known to be covered by anti-tank guns 1000 yards to his front.
Sergeant Miller directed his crew in such a manner as to destroy the enemy
mortars and at the same time so maneuvered his tank in such a manner that tank
and crew returned safely to a defiladed position. By his courage, leadership,
and initiative he contributed to saving the lives of many men. Sitting in the warm comfort of their billets
in Bercheaux, the officers were talking over past actions. 'Now you take Mr.
Sutcliffe', Lt. Grayson was heard to say, 'he was the world's finest cook in a
tank. He had the uncanny ability to be able to make good coffee on the move
without spilling a drop down my back.' But Mr. Sutcliffe liked to do things in
a big way, outside the field of cookery. On the outskirts of Brohl he was
ordered to fire the machine gun at the woods to flush out any Krauts hiding
there. Instead, he let go with the 105 but the only damage was a bruised elbow
by Lt. Grayson and pulverized tree. As soon as the dust cleared away, there
were four Krauts walking towards the tank from the woods with their hands in
the air. Some of the boys were recalling their baptism
to fire when Sergeant Morris related the following, I quote: 'How well I can remember the first day of
combat Lt. Grayson had called us together and told us we were to attack that
morning and the quotation that most of us remember best of all was when he
said, 'This will be the longest day of your life.' We soon found out what he
meant We started off down the road like we were going on another road march
and then suddenly Lt. Grayson said, 'Follow my tank of to the left of the
road. We ended up in a line formation on the crest of the hill and that is
where we realized our first taste of enemy fire. The Krauts must have had that
spot zeroed in, because we caught plenty of Artillery fire and you can bet
your 'boots' that those hatches flew shut, and inside the tanks plenty of
praying was in progress. The Germans were not without competition because we
soon got our first real combat firing mission and it sounded pretty good to
hear those good ole six guns going off at the same time. We were soon in the
need of ammunition so Lt. Grayson asked me to go down to the company C.P. and
see that the boys down there were getting the ammo out of the boxes ready to
bring up to our position. Well, I jumped out of the tank and behind me was a
tank from Charlie Company that had been knocked out, plus some Infantry boys
that were digging in because of the heavy artillery lire that was coming in. I
had about 1000 yards to go check on the ammo I started to double time so I
could hurry up the ammo if possible. With the artillery fire falling all
around, I finally made it to the C. P. I looked for somebody and lo and
behold, there was no one in sight I Then I proceeded to look around, the first
place was under a half-track and there was Fred Berry, William Bedgood, and
Allen, all of them had that uncomfortable feeling expressed in their faces. I
must admit that Allen seemed to be taking life easy because he was smoking a
cigar and he and I snickered a little at the way the other boys were taking
it. About that time Captain Wilkins came out of the house and asked me what I
wanted and I told him about the ammunition. He had the boys load up the track
with some but before I go any farther, I want to mention that 'PAPA' Lands was
also around there at the time I asked Allen where everybody was, and he told
me to take a look around for Lands, so I stepped in front of the vehicle and
there I saw nothing but the soles of somebody's shoes slicking out of the top
of a one man fox hole. They belonged to no one else but ole 'PAPA', that
really made me laugh, it seemed funny to me to see him head-first in that
hole. Later, ho told me ho just did not have time to get in here any other way
when the first round came near the C. P. and that he was not going to move
until everything was quiet again.' Leaving Bercheaux was not easy for we had made
some dear friends. In our hours of loneliness, the citizens of Bercheaux took
us in and made us as comfortable as possible. One woman had her two daughters
sing for us every evening end another baked us a cake. Then there was Nellie's
poppa who gave his rabbits away, one by one, to the 'American Soldiers. We had
liberated them from the Boche, but now we had another job and in the dark,
cold, earliness of January 13th we waved goodbye. We moved to an assembly area two' miles North
of Bastogne. An attack was launched on Foy end Cobru and our objective was
taken after heavy fighting. On the 16th of January we attacked the high ground
northeast of Noville. We took our objective and dug in. It was here that we
missed Bedgood and didn't learn that he had been evacuated by the 81st Medics
until a day or so later It seems he was trying to get off a tank in a hurry
when some artillery came over, and in his haste fell, hurting his back. Again
our casualties were very low and we were beginning to wonder how long our luck
would last. At one place on the outskirts of Hoffalize,
McCoy, Sommers, end Ruggles had dug a three man fox-hole and crawled in for
the night. Sommers was in the middle and got up at an un-Godly hour during the
night to stand guard. While he was up, the Germans sent over a barrage of
'screaming meemies'. Ruggles and McCoy were startled when something crashed
down between them and were too scared to turn around, thinking it was a dud.
Both of them thought the pearly gates or the brimstone pit were opened to
them. Their reactions were not recorded when someone said, Thanks for the use
of your hole, and got up from between them, The 101st Airborne Division relieved us on the
17th and we moved beck to Hemoroule, Belgium for another recuperative period.
At the end of three uneventful days in Hemoroule, we pulled stakes and
assembled one mile east of Noville. Readying ourselves for the attack next
morning, we found that the Krauts had retreated from the objective and our
orders to attack were revoked. We stayed there in the field while history was
being made. Down in Houffalize, elements of our division met the 2nd Armored
Division of the First Army to close the jaws of the pincers on the withdrawing
German Forces. THE BULGE WAS CUT. There were many smiling, happy faces the next
morning. We were going back to Bercheaux. Lt. McCormley joined our company as
the Assault Gun Platoon Leader. Coming from the 490th Field Artillery where he
was a forward observer, Lt. McCormley took the place of Lt. Grayson who had
left us to command Baker Company. February 7th, 1945 found us making our way
across the Belgian-Luxembourg border into Binsfeld. Our mission there was to
guard the southern flank of the VIII Corps. The roads were very unsuitable for
moving armor and the job immediately ahead was that of breaching the Siegfried
Line which was a job principally for the Infantry. The Reconnaissance Platoon
had on outpost at Peterskirche. From Peterskirche, looking across the Our
River you could see the pill boxes with Krauts running around doing their
daily chores. One day two of them walked down to the river bank, and started
to swim across with the intention of surrendering but damn near drowned. The
Recon boys on post at the time borrowed an Engineer's boat and picked them up.
With the exception of this and the fact that a couple of deserted Kraut
soldiers were picked up wearing civvies, our stay in Binsfeld was uneventful.
We were billeted in a house that must have been used for sorting propaganda
leaflets. Those Krauts were certainly clever in the layout of their
propaganda. Most of us gathered up our share of 'souvenir leaflets' laughed
'em off and sent 'em home when censorship was lifted. One was left floating
around here and it is reproduced on the following page. On February 18th,
instead of a birthday cake I had a doughnut (and believe me it was good) from
the Red Cross Clubmobile. It was the second time the girls served us and it
seemed as though they followed us right through, even though they did have a
little trouble keeping up at times. During our stay in Binsfeld there was a change
in the Company staff. Lt. Smith was transferred to Service Company and Lt.
Bailey replaced him as maintenance officer. We left Binsfeld, crossed the Our River at
Peterskirche, marched twenty-five miles through belts of the Siegfried Line
and bivouacked east of Houthein, Germany. Bright and early on the 3rd of March
we pulled out with the Battalion and moved into attack position across the
Prum River. The next few days are recorded in the First Sergeant's records as
follows: 4 Mar. 45—Bn attacked et 1200 over heavily
mined area. Stevenson returned to duty. Set up position east of Wellershiem,
Germany. 5 Mar 45—Did not attack today because
bridgehead could not be secured. Location same. Weather cold and rainy. No
casualties. 6 Mar. 45— Attacked northeast of objective
at Obr Bettingen, Germany. Opposition light, but terrain muddy as hell. No
casualties. We crossed the Kyll River at Obr Bettingen,
Germany and I remember it was about this time that we had been getting reports
to the effect that German women were being captured along the fronts. It
wasn't long till we found this to be true for our Recon Platoon caught a few
who were more arrogant than feminine. Rather than have an extra guard this
particular night, Captain Wilkins gave me the two Krauts whom he had persuaded
to quit just an hour before. Riding along in that peep, toward the PW cage in
the city of Prum, was almost unbearably cold but I occupied myself trying to
determine the sex of our prisoners. The longer I looked at the little guy, the
bigger his breast looked, but at the cage we found him to be just another
Superman. The objective was taken March 7th and we were ordered into a new
sector. As soon as we reached this new front we started using the Advance
Guard formation. The advance guard consisting of two or three
Shermans, a Reconnaissance platoon, A line company, the Colonel or Task Force
Commanders tank in the advance guard, a forward observer's tank and Lt.
McCormley observing for our Assault Guns. After the advance guard came the
balance of the battalion. When the Advance Guard ran into anything too big to
handle, they were backed up by the main body. If a town was defended, all
vehicles fanned off the road into firing position and blasted it up a bit. If
the town was too big or we were in more of a hurry than usual, we'd blow it up
on the way through. As a result of this blitzing through Germany, death and
destruction lined the roads in our wake. Knocked out and abandoned German
vehicles covered the roads and fields. Then the Krauts started their wholesale
surrenders. The roads were jammed with tired of war Krauts. We counted them by
the thousands. After three days of pushing the war into Germany, we stopped
for a breather in Burgbrohl on the Rhine. Staff Sergeant Cunningham found a
German motorcycle and went off for a little joy ride. He never came back. We
learned later that he was in the states recovering from wounds received when
he encountered a couple of snipers. A German General was reported trying to
organize some resistance around a lake near Burgbrohl, so the Battalion sent a
task Force out to check it. Our Recon platoon ran across a German Hospital
liberating two Gl's, one of whom was too sick to move. He was from the 4th
Division. The other boy was from Pennsylvania, of the 17th Airborne Division.
He told how he was captured the day after his outfit relieved us at Mande St.
Etienne. The Krauts threw a Panzer Division against the 17th Airborne,
following up the counter-attack they made on our last night there. This particular night the Reconnaissance
Platoon's mission was to find a route out of the town in a general direction
of the following day's objective. Lt. Justice started out in one peep and
Sergeant Van Aken followed in another, but the peeps became separated, and Lt.
Justice continued the mission alone. At one spot he came across a GI
half-track parked in the middle of the road, completely blocking it. Muttering
to himself about the ability of drivers and the damn fool places they pick to
park, he went on foot up to the half-track to get it moved, but quick. When he
got to the door, he noticed a swastika crudely painted on the side. From the
interior came sounds of people sprinkling the Dutch." This was all he
needed to know, so he did an about face and started tiptoeing back to the
peep, Signaling for the peep to be turned around, the driver, PFC Toomey,
misunderstood and put the peep into first. Lt. Justice got to the peep before
it ran into the half-track and got Toomey straightened out as to the direction
he was to go. They disappeared in a cloud of dust and found a safer road to
prowl around at night. On the 18th we reached Rochenhausen and the
following day, Kirn. The night the Battalion pulled into Kirn, most of the
boys in the Company wandered around the town requisitioning whatever their
hearts desired. PFC. Johnson went scouting into a cellar in search of
something liquid, anything but water. He found instead, a couple of Germans
hiding and took them prisoner. After thinking it over, he realized that if he
took them now it would mean guarding them all night or driving them back to
the PW cage. He told them to stay there till 0700 the next morning and warned,
If you show your damn heads before then, I'll blow them off. Johnson went to
sleep and at exactly 0700 the next morning there they were, emerging from the
cellar with their hands in the air. Some of the boys in the Assault Platoon were
having their troubles that night also. Here's the way Pirtle tells it: 'This little incident happened one night on
the outskirts of a small town by the name of Kirn, Germany. It seemed as
though the town was rather crowded so the Assault Gun Platoon was forced to
move out taking up a position on a high hill to defend the town. Sergeant
Adams, being last to move up in line as usual, was forced to knock down a tree
in order to lay his gun parallel. We had though good fortune of meeting up
with a couple of Frenchmen who had a truck loaded with wine. Everyone took
advantage of the opportunity of getting his share of the wine, some getting
more than their share. Well as the story goes on, it fell to someone's
misfortune to go after the gas trains and bring them back to gas up the tanks.
It was my luck to have to go on a very dark night. My faithful car commander,
Louis Szarek and I took off, Szarek tolling the boys that we were going on a
suicide mission. We reached the town safely, waited around until two o'clock
in the morning for the trucks to come from the Gas Dump. At last we started
back, Szarek and I leading the convoy. A case of the blind leading the blind.
We went nearly 500 yards and then off the road into a ditch we land. I caught
the leading truck, leaving Szarek behind with the Half-track to wait until I
returned with the gas trucks. I took the trucks on up to though tanks and the
platoon filled the tanks with gas. So we start back to where Szarek and the
half-track were. Upon arriving, I find a full crew with the track, but another
look and I found that three of them were Krauts with their hands high over
their heads. Szarek had captured them with only an O. D. blanket in his hand.
The prisoners were armed with Schmeisers. As we were convinced that they were
part of a patrol, we questioned them and find that they aren't qualified for a
job as a member of the crew, so we load them on the trucks and send them back
to the PW cage, and so this ends my story.' and from Bostick: After a long tiresome day we were ordered to
go into the town of Kirn. Well, all of us were pretty tired and thirsty so
when we hit the town we took advantage of the column stop. Sgt. Miller and
Pfc. Burnworth dismounted and started looking for something to drink. They saw
a light coming from a cellar window so naturally they investigated. It was a
room divided by a cloth curtain and the light was coming from the unexplored
side of the curtain. As they started to part the curtain a German Officer
stepped out (just about scaring Miller and Burnworth to death) and in very
good English said 'I surrender'. Burnworth was not armed and Miller had a
Luger in his coat. Al the while Miller was puffing and sweating and tugging
for all his best to get the Luger from his coat. The Kraut calmly waited for
Miller to got the drop on him, then motioned to where his pistol was resting.
Just when another German Officer stepped from behind the curtain and for a
while Miller wondered how long this would continue. In any event all was under
control and the two Kraut Officers were turned over to Davidson who
watching as road guide at the time. No they didn't find anything to
drink there.' Captain Wilkins found a ford across the Kirn
river southeast of Kirn. All the bridges were blown, so a small force was sent
across that night. The rest of us forded the river the next morning and pushed
through town after town, destroying some completely. Those not defended were
spared the fate their sister towns encountered. We raced on to within three
miles of Worms and had quite a battle with the Luftwaffe. They must have been
celebrating something or other, for that was the largest number of German
planes we had so far seen at one time. We touched the Rhine for the second
time without crossing it when we entered Worms that day. The business section
of Worms was completely in ruins although the residential section where we
stayed was almost untouched. It was evidently the wealthy section of the city,
and we were living in Park Avenue style. The wine and champagne flowed freely.
If you couldn't find a man boxing up his souvenirs, you'd be sure to find him
flowing with the wine. I've often wondered what impression we left on Lt.
Borchardt when he joined our company here. Came the dawn of March 25th and we drew back
to Frammershiem, Germany for a maintenance break. Sergeant Bryant went to the
Riviera for a rest, and we rested over Hot Cakes at every breakfast. The morning of the 29th came too soon for
some, not soon enough for others. In the dark, drizzly dawn our tanks made
their way to the banks of the Rhine for the third time, only now we didn't
stop. Under a smoke screen at Oppenheim we crossed on a Ponton bridge while
north of us at Remagen, General Hodges poured his troops across the bridgehead
which was then substantially established. We drove straight east through
Darmstadt and then turned in a Northerly direction and crossed the Main River
near Hanau. Spending the night at an abandoned Kraut airdrome and pulled out
the following morning at 0630, moving very slow because of some map trouble.
We kept rolling through town after town. There were white flags flying, there
were people in the streets and everything looked rosy. Once in a while we had
to knock down a town or two. It was on March 3tst that the Advance Guard
started through a town where white flags were flying. There were no people in
the streets and it looked fishy. The lead vehicle was hit, and a Recon squad
wiped out. Our Assault Guns helped level that town. After leaving Hauswatz in
shambles, we continued on to Fulda. Here the Old Man was killed while on a
reconnaissance. John Duffy who rode the Light Tank as bow-gunner gives the following
account: 'Though Old man went over to Major Hoffman's
tank to get instructions for a mission he volunteered for. He came back and
soon we were rolling down the road into Fulda with Belonger's peep right
behind us. Belonger was along in though peep, Lt. Borchardt having had another
mission at the time. We went through the outskirts OK but when we reached a
sharp right turn in the road there was a bazooka man hiding behind a tree. I
saw the familiar blunt nose of the German bazooka just before he fired it. The
first one was a bad shot. It hit a tree limb just in front, and high of the
tank. Sniper fire opened up and one got the Old Man right through the heart.
T/4 Berry took command and ordered us to back out just as the second bazooka
fired. It too, was a bad shot for it hit another tree limb. Belonger ran
behind a house and left his peep in the road. We hit it when we backed up the
tank We also ran slam against a tree. Berry couldn't talk to Hernandez, who
was driving, because his helmet and earphones were blown off by the explosion
of the first bazooka. Finally we did get the tank back to an open space on our
left and made a left about turn. We barrel-assed back to the Battalion on the
hill but it was too late for Captain Wilkins. He was dead. Belonger made his
way back to an A Company tank and was told to go back and get his peep. He
did, and for this he got the Bronze Star. Berry too was awarded the Bronze
Star, when he came back from the hospital, for getting us out of there. I've
never thanked God so many times for only one thing but it was only through His
good graces that I'm here today. To show you what I mean, we counted all the
bullet marks around the turret and they numbered above twenty." And then, here is Belonger's own story of
FULDA when no one was sure what would happen next, especially Belonger: 'I was ordered to follow Captain Wilkins' tank
while Lt. Borchardt who was riding with me, left my peep and went on another
mission. I followed the tank over a ridge and down the main road into Fulda.
We made a sharp right turn into town and after advancing a couple of hundred
yards a bazooka round was fired at the tank. It made a loud explosion and I
didn't know exactly what it was or where it landed. I cut the ignition, and
dove headlong for a ditch with the Luger that I had been holding in my hand,
even while driving. Not that I was afraid of anything, but now know why the
army issue OD underwear. I could feel the bullets whizzing over me as I dove
for the ditch and made my way to the back of a house. By this time the tank
had succeeded in backing up near my position. I could see the machine gun
bullets ricochet off the tank. When they stopped the tank to pick me up I saw
Captain Wilkins slump forward, dead. Because of increased fire the tank was
forced to leave without me and return to the battalion position. I made my way
out of the town on toot and sure was glad to see 'A' Company tanks pulling up
to the ridge overlooking the town. I told my story to Captain Scott and he
opened fire on the town for about fifteen minutes and then told me it was safe
to get my peep, as he was going to support me with machine gun fire. I worked
my way down into the town again by crawling through shell holes and hiding
behind trees, and took refuge in a shell hole in town. While I was in the hole
the firing from A Company ceased and all was quiet except for the roar of the
tank engines. I heard the tanks leaving but was under the impression that they
were going to encircle the town and enter from the other side. After two hours
of waiting in complete silence, I again worked my way up to he ridge to see
what the hell was going on. Nothing was in sight, of interest to me, not even
one Gl. So there was CCB (combat command Belonger), all by himself. Then I
shook the mud out of the barrel of my Luger and went further up the ridge to
se it I couldn't see at least one lone tank to keep me company. I remember
that I limped as I went past a Kraut hospital so they wouldn't take advantage
of a poor, wounded soldier, although I hung on to my Luger just in case.
Still, nothing was in sight so I went back into town. I went into an air-raid
shelter and requisitioned a couple of Krauts to accompany me to make certain
of a sate journey to my peep. The peep was conveniently turned around, but
some lousy Kraut had looted it. With a prayer, it started, and I drove it out
of town without any further trouble except that my folding cot was lost making
that first corner out of Fulda. I rejoined the battalion and the rest of the
boys were glad to see me as they would have had to pull ten minutes extra
guard `apiece if I hadn't shown up. We pulled out of Fulda and advanced over a
different route to Grobenluder, Germany. We had been riding high in spirits
throughout this big drive but now things weren't the same. We left the life of
our Company Commander in Fulda, but the memory of his honest and fair
leadership will never be forgotten by his men. At 0640 Easter Sunday our vehicles roared onto
the road and into formation. We contacted the enemy at approximately 0815 in
the vicinity of Michelsrombach. The column had stretched well into Germany and
was now running the risk of being cut off. There was heavy enemy resistance
all the way to Kaltensundheim which we reached about 1430. At 1500 we set up a
Charlie Peter in the town and spent the rest of Easter Sunday counting up the
narrow escapes we experienced that day. The Krauts played a little trick on us
but they suffered in the long run. The road shoulders were lined with what
appeared to be dead Germans. After we were well into this ambush, the Krauts
staged a little show, however they were unable to give an encore. We changed
magazines more than twice and had a first class target practice at the expense
of some brainless Nazi's. Setting our watches one hour ahead, we left
Kaltensundheim, Germany April 2nd, and proceeded to Wasungen, where the
bridges across the Werra River were blown. After the C P was set up, some of
us wandered around and found a rehabilitation center for Italian prisoner's of
war. Several were suffering from malnutrition. It was cold and it was raining
the next morning. The engineers were not quite finished even though they
worked all night. Finally at 0930 we crossed the pontoon treadway over the
Werra and cautiously felt our way to within three miles of Oberhol. We were
casually informed that our Battalion was now the farthest point of Allied
advance on the entire Western Front. Our nearest Infantry support was
approximately seventy miles behind, having a big time cleaning out the pockets
of SS-men we bypassed. These pockets inflicted some heavy casualties on the
rear of CCB's column, which our Battalion was spearheading. The chief's of
many Nazi governmental bureaus were reported to have moved into the Oberhof
Area. Hitler himself was said to have been among them. We learned later that
Von-Rundstedt left Oberhof two hours before we arrived. Our orders were to sit
tight so we did just that. I found some cherry, brandy, the like of which I
-have never before or since, had the pleasure of drinking. While most of us
were in Oberhof, the Assault Gun Platoon was to guard our rear from a position
3 miles west. This lasted only one day when some Infantry caught up and took
over the guarding job. Nevertheless here is a summary of the time on Cold
Knob. by Sergeant Morris: 'We had just finished our Easter celebration
by accounting for many useless Krauts on bicycles during our chase to Oberhof.
Major Hoffmann was in charge of the advance guard and he had found a place for
his Charley Peter close to the fawn, which was down in the valley, ahead of
the position we were to be set up in, along with Charlie and Baker Company.
Soon the rest of the battalion came along and they moved into the town with he
main body. Major Hoffman then moved his group into town with the Colonel and
that let us to guard the town while the rest of the battalion was billeted in
houses. While some guys were set up in warm houses the rest of us had to
weather the snow and cold up on that mountain, but then this was war. That
night the doughboys that had set up outposts (listening posts) and were
hauling plenty of Krauts out of the woods all around us. I want to give a lot
of credit to the mess sections of Charlie and Baker Company for braving the
cold, and possibility of snipers attacking them, while they stayed up there to
feed the men on the mountain. It was no place for a helpless kitchen crew and
not a member of either section chose to go into town to spend the night even
though they certainly hod many opportunities to do so. They weren't able to
serve till the next morning, and they didn't have extra rations to feed us
with, but they stretched what they had and all of us got as much to eat as any
member of their company.' The night before we moved the Charley Peter to
Karl Walther's home our CP Guard brought in a civilian with a story which he
excitedly related to Lt. Borchardt. Seems as though this civilian was the
proprietor of some hunting lodge about five miles into no-man's land, and two
SS-Officers were drinking his alcohol and planning on staying in his place
overnight. Being a GOOD GERMAN, he wanted to report them so that we could pick
them up. Lt. Borchardt, fearing that this civilian wasn't a member of the -
Johnson Family, promptly took him to Battalion Headquarters where the Kraut
was sent to a PW cage and Lt. Borchardt was chewed out because our outpost
guards didn't catch him making his way into town. Next morning although it was
a top secret, we were getting ready to plunge into the National Redoubt Area
toward Berchtesgaden. April 7th ended with us in the vicinity of St. Bernardt,
Germany, 31 miles from Oberhof. On the 8th we moved south to Phersdorth where
we were promised a 36 hour maintenance period. After five replacements joined
our Company we made a 22 mile push to Weisenfeld. I remember very clearly how
T/4 Slaughter was wounded. Acting as first gadget, I followed the Light Tank
with Devericks and Nose. Lt. McCormley called Fire Mission and the Assault Gun
and Mortar Platoons went into position off the road side. Devericks and I
doubled the column back to Service Company and lead a six by six of 105 to
where it would do the most good. While the Assault Guns were waiting the fire
order, Devericks snoozed away on the backdeck of Sergeant Morris' tank, and I
commenced to wheedle some rations from Morris and Guidry. After some tall
talking they finally gave me a can of stew. I heard the fire order from Lt.
McCormley as I climbed into Parton's warm bog seat. Slaughter was carrying a
round of 105 when the battery fired one round. His gun was not at minimum
elevation and the round hit some wires. I heard Morris yell, SIaughter's hit,
and I climbed from the bog and saw that the Medics had the situation well in
hand. Almost the entire Assault and Mortar Platoons plus the Medics were in
bursting radius, still that hot twisting metal spared all but one. As we sat in Weisenfeld, waiting the history
of the surrender of Coburg was in the making. Coburg was now the focal point
of German attempts to slow our advance. The manpower available consisted
chiefly of the 12th Panzer Grenadier Repl. Bn. which conducted field training
in the vicinity of the city. For several days units of this large battalion of
approximately 1000 men had been sent forward from Coburg to defend the
approaches to the city. It is believed that approximately 400 men remained
within Coburg until the night of April 10 when all officers of this battalion
quit their posts leaving the men to shift for themselves. The outlying defense
of the city disintegrated, chiefly, because of the low morale of the troops.
The reasons were many inadequate supplies of weapons. In some instances troops
were committed without weapons of any kind. Drama was in the making the afternoon of April
10 when the defenders of Coburg Castle glumly watched the gathering forces of
our Division in the North and East. A special task force, was in charge of the
castle's defense and they decided to send two of his officers as emissaries to
propose a truce for the purpose of evacuating the civilians from the
strongpoint. It was learned that the castle and the town of Coburg were under
distinct and separate commands, neither of which was subordinate to the other.
It was also learned that the two officers did not have the authority to
negotiate for the surrender of either the castle or the city. At 0730, April
11th, the representatives of the castle forces were told that they had two
hours after their arrival at the castle to evacuate the civilians. At 0830 the
two officers returned and stated that the commanders of both the castle and
the city defenses had departed with their troops during the night. Conditions
within the city were stabilized by 1100 and Coburg Castle was just another
tourist site by 1300. The 28 miles to Redwitz, Germany was
uneventful for us except for a few snipers. The advance guard ran into a few
Krauts they had to obliterate and then there were the prisoners walking back
along the column, adding up to that overwhelming total with which the Division
is credited. Our Battalion took the city of Kulmbach. We
didn't stay long enough to cash in on the 13 Breweries, 2 Navy Warehouses and
4 Food Warehouses, but Captain Swerdlow made his way back there while we were
stopped in Bayreuth, he made an issue of high quality aviators goggles and
leather gloves which he confiscated from the Navy Warehouse. We learned of the
death of President Roosevelt right after we pulled into Mainleus. The wires
weren't cut and we had electricity in our billets where many of us heard a
radio for the first time since England. A Kraut plane dropped two bombs but
missed us by a mile. Sergeant Bryant came back from the Riviera with some tall
tales, just before we made the 25 kilometer march to Bayreuth. Back in Weisenfeld, Germany, we recognized the
true talents of Edward (not 'G' but L) Robinson. He joined our company in
Phersdorth direct from the bandstand of Manny Landers in the Cleveland Hotel.
He had previously played with the nations best. Freddie Martin, Alvino Ray,
Dave Rubinoff, Phil Spitanly, and Leo Reisman. We found 'Robbie' to be one of
the best. His fingers tickle the ivories with the grace that comes from
natural talent plus years of practice. When Robbie played Rhapsody in Blue' in
Weisenfeld, for us, we all took stand and claimed it was the first time
Rhapsody in Blue' was played in Germany since the Nazi ban of Jewish music.
Eddie had a smile of satisfaction on his face as he finished. He sipped on his
champagne and said: I've been waiting a long time to do that. And now in
Bayreuth, the center of the Wagnerian Musical Festivals that Hitler so
enjoyed, Robbie repeated his performance, in his billet, not 2 blocks from the
famous Wagner House. We got back into the War on April 19th when at
0730 we attacked South-east to Grafenwohr, Germany. In this phase of battle,
Major Knight was evacuated when both his hands were damn near crushed. Bonnani
was evacuated when he tried to tangle himself between the 105 and his hatch
cover. The column was passing through a string of small villages in the drive
to Grafenwohr and many of these villages sported low stone arches some of
which were just a hair big enough to allow the passing of our Shermans.
Murphy's Tank came through one of those with the turret hatch open. The impact
broke the turret lock, and the gun swung around pinning Bonnani against his
bog hatch. He wasn't badly hurt but we've made bets that he did plenty of
praying for awhile. Lt. McCormley had assumed command of our
Company when Captain Wilkins was killed, but had continued to act as Assault
Gun Platoon Leader in the Advance Guard. At Grafenwohr Lt. Warren took over
the Assault Gun Platoon and Lt. McCormley saddled up to the light tank. We had
quite a crew now. Hernandez of Texas was still driving, Fida of Philadelphia
was bow gunner, and Lt. McCormley, and yours truly from the Monongahela Valley
were in the turret. Lt. Justice was evacuated from Caltenbrunn,
Germany, on April 22nd when a tank ran over his foot. It was during operations
near Schwarzenfeld which was later captured by the advance guard. The next day
we pushed 34 miles to Yanahof and on to March via Cham and Regen. We began to
see the hordes of slave laborers and political prisoners. To those of us who
had never thought about it much, the war's meaning was beginning to sink in
deep. Walking skeletons by the masses. Soon to come were more of the same
piled up thick. Soon to come were the concentration camps, the huge piles of
naked, stinking, beaten bodies of prisoners piled up like cordwood, the living
dead with skin so tight over their gaping bones that you expected it to crack
when they bent over. Soon to come were the walls of torture chambers covered
with the imprints of feet which had kicked and kicked before death finally
came. And the stories, the incredible stories which you didn't believe until
they took off their clothes and showed you. People's behinds beaten into
rawness by big clubs and then the wounds cut open and salt rubbed in. People
whipped like dogs would never be whipped. People burned alive, women's breasts
cut off, men hung by their testicles. How many millions of people, how many
millions of stories. We, who never knew what Hitlerism really was, knew it
now. Cham and Regen are two towns that we'll never
forget for more reasons than one. Sergeant Morris favors the egg supply we
found in Cham, and the ring side seat he had at Regen, but he can tell it
better than I: 'Our advance guard reached the outskirts of
though town of Cham. It was originally the objective of CCA but we had made
better time then they, on the route to Cham, so when Major Hoffman asked for
permission to enter, it was granted. Then the following transmission was
heard: MURPHY: 'Hello, Bailey, this is Murphy over' BAILEY: 'This is Bailey, Murphy, send your
message' MURPHY: 'Bailey, send one platoon up the road
to your right to protect us from the North, then move the rest of your company
along with Trooper into the town and raise HELL if you are fired at.' Though town was soon ours and no firing to
speak of, had taken place. We took a large number of enemy troops there that
were eager to surrender when they saw the power we had against them. The next
step was to find a place to settle for the night. We found a nice house with
plenty of beds for all, plus a nice radio that we listened to that evening.
Pretty soon one the doughboys in the town asked us if we wanted some eggs and
of course we were not the type to refuse. He led us to a place in town where
the Krauts had a warehouse full of eggs which were labeled for Wehrmacht use.
We loaded up four crates on to the tank and took off to find the rest of our
platoon which was back across the bridge from where we had set up our C. P. We
kept one crate for our crew and divided the other three crates among the rest
of though fellas in our platoon. That night, I know that nobody went hungry
because there was plenty to eat thru the courtesy of the enemy. By the way, we
also ACQUIRED a bottle of cognac that night and a couple of shots of that
liquid dynamite kinds HIT THE SPOT. About five o'clock the next morning one of
the fellas from the O. P. crew of the 491st. F. A., who was pulling guard on
our tank, shot down a German Reconnaissance plane and it fell in an open field
close to our billet. The pilot of the plane got out of though crash okay and
the guard hollered at him to stop when he began to run, but the damn fool
Kraut paid no attention to him and so he is now pushing up daisies somewhere
in Germany. The guard put two bullets through his head a distance of about
twenty yards. 'We were right behind Major Hoffman's tank in
though column of tough advance guard. We were heading for the objective which
was the town of Regen. In order to get to the main part of town and also to
get into position to attack with effect, we had to come across rough terrain
that led to a blacktop road which, incidentally, was the only road that led
into this place. The tanks had all made it across okay and we were sitting on
the blacktop waiting for the infantry to come up and start the attack on the
town. They caught up to the tanks of Baker Company and so the front of the
column was moving in with the doughs in order to give them support when
necessary. On our left, along the road, was a steep decline which made it
impossible for any type vehicle to get off the road. The right side of the
road was nothing but steep inclines, therefore, once you were on the road you
had to stay there and keep going. I was standing in the loader's hatch, as we
were moving toward town, with my eyes peered for snipers and bazooka men from
our right, while Lt. Warren was watching though left side. Suddenly my eye
caught a guy crouching in a fox hole along side of though road and sure enough
he had a bead on our tank with the bazooka that he was holding. I had my
trusty (not rusty) machine gun in my hand ready to fire at him when I noticed
that a platoon of doughboys were coming along the bank behind him. For fear of
my bullets hitting the doughs, I didn't fire. At the same time the three
leading guys of that platoon saw this fool. All fired simultaneously and down
he went holding his stomach. When the doughs reached him, he was back on his
feet so one of the doughs just gave him a good boot right where it hurts, and
before he went much further; he was filled with about twenty five pellets of
hot lead.' While we were coiled on that hill outside of
Waldkirchen waiting for the Recon Boys to find us billets, the Luftwaffe made
a sudden appearance. Seemed as though they were trying to scare us for a while
but it turned out that we scared for they wouldn't even come within range of
our bullets. Teddy Pors was shot through the leg and evacuated to the 81st
Medics. We pulled into the town, washed up, and had
just finished frying some eggs in the CP when a guard brought in a German
civilian, who was picked up at one of the outposts. Lt. Borchardt looked him
in the eye, told him to empty his pockets, and remembering that little
incident in Oberhof, just let that Kraut have it with the best German cuss
words he knew. The next minute the Kraut, with sweat pouring from his face,
was on his way to a PW cage, and not through channels. From Waldkirchen the Recon Platoon started on
a mission they will never forget. George Harris was there so I'll let him
relate it: 'On April 28th the Recon Platoon was ordered
to go to the high ground outside the town of Tannensteig and observe though
artillery fire that was coming that way from our 105's. We started out with
two peeps leading, followed by the half-track and the other peeps brought up
the rear. We didn't got very far when McCoy's peep ran over a Teller mine and
Sommer's foot was broken. He was taken back to though battalion area by one of
though other peeps and McCoy, who was badly shaken up by the explosion, stayed
with us until our peep come bock with a medics peep to keep us company. We
continued on the road until we come to a road block. This was enough to stop
us from riding any further, but Kirk said the vehicles were to be turned
around and parked facing the rear in case of trouble. While backing up his
peep to turn around, Mike Nila ran over a double Teller mine -and the peep was
blown clear off though road, landing upside down about 15 yards all on one
side. Van Aken and e civilian, that we were bringing along because of his
knowledge of though countryside, were blown clear of the peep but Mike was
pinned beneath it Van Aken was badly shaken up and Mike laid
seriously injured with two broken legs and face wounds. The civilian was out
of sight by the time we got around to looking for him. He did a perfect
summersault, landed on his feet, and ran so fast he never touched the ground.
He was in such a hurry he forgot to pick up his hat. The medics took care of
Mike while the rest of us prepared to start hiking. We emptied our pockets of everything German in
case of capture and I was pounds lighter by the time my pockets contained only
MADE IN US goods. Then Sgt. Kirkpatrick stuck an ammunition box in my hand and
we started out. (At least I didn't have to lug the machine gun around.) By
this time it had started to rain and the woods we went through only mode
though drops larger. We wandered around the hills for a couple of hours until
we come to the spot where we could see the town and report on the incoming
tire. Some Krauts must hove been hiding in the woods as every once in awhile
they annoyed us with rifle or mortar rounds but our job was to get there and
not fight unless we were forced. On the way back I figured that some of the
hills would be on down-grade but none of them seemed to be built that way.
After about four hours we were back at the place where we had left Kraz and
Ruggles to guard the vehicles, and there we found a small task force that was
all set to go out and locate US, or the GERMANS. All of us wore tired and
nobody was willing to volunteer for though infantry and walk for though rest
of the war. That's about all that happened but there were
plenty of times that day when Sgt. Kirkpatrick not only earned his Bronze Star
but a flock of clusters to go with It. Patrols were sent to the Austrian border to
make contact with the Russians. Either they were behind schedule or we were
ahead of schedule because the patrols brought no results. Combat Command B.
was broken up into task forces on the 29th and we sat where we were, as a part
of Task Force Sagaser. Rumors were flying thick about this time. We heard that
Himmler wanted to surrender his forces unconditionally to the United Stales
and England but not to the Russians. As a part of Task Force Sagaser we trailed
Task Force Hoffmann which attacked South and East to Gresbach, Germany, on the
30th and Across the Austrian border into Lembach on the 1st of May when we
heard unconfirmed reports that Hitler was dead. From Lembach to
Oberneukirchen, Austria, on the 3rd and the prisoners started coming in droves
again. It wasn't safe for anybody wearing a German uniform, what with all
those former slaves seeking revenge and really getting it. Remember the
beating that little five-foot Polish boy gave those three Krauts. He only had
a club but the blood flowed like wine. May 4th found us in Gallneukirchen,
Austria, wondering how it felt to have a 45 day furlough thrown in your face.
Utz and Stevenson had this happen to them the day before and were now on their
way to the states. Hayes was shot through the leg on May 7th and Devericks got
it through the hand on the 8th. We didn't celebrate much when the news of the
war's end reached us. Little groups gathered here and there and talked about
what the war had done to them. Some recalled the humorous aspects of the war.
I'd like to quote a few. This one comes from the Mortar Platoon: 'At one time, we were sure that one of our
members would be awarded the DSC. Fida and Kwoka (what a pair) were on guard
when three forms appeared on the horizon. 'Surely they must be Jerries' said
John J. to Fida, and at the same time let go a burst from his grease-gun.
Having missed them, he gave chase. (Eds note: Didn't I see you in Santa
Barbara once with a chest full of shooting medals, Johnny?) In the meantime
Fida aroused the other members of the squad, who in turn thought this was the
counterattack that they were expecting that night. A few minutes later, Kwoka
returned without the fugitives (and with them went the five possible points).
So the squad went back to their novels completely disgusted with though false
alarm. Those Jerries weren't very co-operative in so far as helping us with
our critical score.' While many were joying over the fact that
censorship had been lifted and began reverting to hot love letters. The Recon
boys gleefully shouted the following story about Jenny: 'Jenny, who sometimes acted like a lady, but
most of the time like the girl of the song JENNY MADE HER MIND UP. First of
ail lei me tell you how Jenny got her name. There was a platoon with a
halftrack without a name so everyone who rode in it was asked to vote. Then
Lt. Justice suggested Jenny, his wife's name. The first inclination we had
that Jenny had a mind of her own came in Belgium when she stopped to admire
the scenery on the outskirts of Mande, while the Jerries were pouring
time-fire over our heads. Her radiator stopped a few pieces of shrapnel and
she was sent to ordnance for a facial. She returned to active duty full of pep
but unable to hold a
thing on her stomach. Her sediment bowl became full of water time after time
and she stopped dead at though damnedest places. The next time she acted like
a prima donna was on the forward slope of a hill, outside Houffalize, while
the Germans serenaded her with 88s. This scored though life out of us, and we
were as much afraid that Jenny would soon be a pile of scrap iron, as we wore
that we would end up the same way because of her. After this scare she repented and as a reward
was given a new motor in Neidermendig. On the way back to the company at
Wúeir, she frollicked at 40 miles an hour with chains and seemed to hove
mended her ways but the change was only temporary, for soon after, she
developed ailments that even though mechanics had never heard about before. On
though 28th of April she became a good girl and missed all the Teller mines
that the Germans had planted to snare her. Now Jenny is in virtual retirement,
in the motor park, and no doubt longs for the good old day when she could tell
us whether or not we were going any place, and just how fast we were going to
got there.' On May 15th we helped march 18,000 prisoners
to the Russians. This was our last official act of the War in Europe and now
we could rest. After one Hundred and thirty-eight days of almost continuous
combat we could now breath a sigh of relief. The Hun is crushed, and we
remember MAUTHAUSEN, but we are beginning to wonder when we'll see home again. The beautiful Blue Danube is in our back yard. The river of romance. The cold majestic spires of the distant Alps dominate the southern panorama, and from the north, the green fir-fringed hills unfold gracefully southward to where the Enns flows into the River of Song. In the River of Life is the reflection of our hearts, aching for home. In our dreams there is home and in our minds and prayers. Please dear God, answer our prayers. Back to "Our History"
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