Stating that he felt his plane and crew were among the first eight to go to Bastogne, 1Lt. Art Feigion was with the 1X Troop Carrier Pathfinder Group. Feigion describes his flight:
I like to think my crew was among the first eight planes into Bastogne. We took off from England in instrument weather. In pathfinder we flew a lot of our missions on instrument, when the weather was so bad ‘even the birds were walking.’ We handled our formation by altitude separation. And, believe it or not, we all broke out of the weather over France and within sight of each other.
We went in pretty low over the snowy fields in France. Before we got to Bastogne we must have flown over some German areas; we were all hit by small arms fire, but nothing serious. One of those bullets came up through the belly of the plane, right through the navigator’s seat, and missed his ‘dinkus’ by about an inch. The bullet then buried itself in the radar control box. We didn’t find out where the bullet had ended up until we got back to England.96
Aboard one of the early planes as a radio operator for the craft, T/Sgt. Martin Wolfe describes the loads they carried and what the Bastogne area looked like from on high during those cold winter days:
On December 23, the first day of aerial resupply, 260 troop carrier planes, including seven from our squadron, flew in 334 tons of supplies to Bastogne. This, and our subsequent resupply missions into the Bastogne area, were so straight forward they seemed almost cut and dried—except that, unlike noncombat supply missions, we now flew as part of large formations, dropped our supplies with pararacks and parapacks instead of landing them and came back with a mess of bullet holes. No fancy tactical planning, no elaborate flight paths this time. Just straight on in, jettison your loads over the position markers west of Bastogne and get the hell out of there. In our squadron we carried mostly ammunition, but also K-rations and Signal Corps equipment We took off from Membury shortly after noon each day and flew the long (three hour) trip to Belgium at 1,500 feet.
The first thing you saw, coming toward Bastogne, was a large, flat plain completely covered with snow, the whiteness broken only by a few trees and some roads and, off in the distance, the town itself. Next, your eye caught the pattern of tank tracks across the snow. We came down lower and lower, finally to about 500 feet off the ground, our drop height.97
On board another plane from the 81st Troop Carrier Squadron was S/Sgt. Ben Obermark, the crew chief, who wrote:98
When we were flying over the Bastogne area I couldn’t believe an army of men could be trapped down there in what looked like nothing but wide fields of snow. At first, I couldn’t see any men at all. We pushed out the parapacks through the open door and then I lay down on the floor looking out the door and sort of squinting against the glare of the snow; that way, I could see men running toward the stuff we had dropped and dragging it away to their still invisible foxholes.
Elated troops of the 101st Division drag equipment bundles and resupply parachutes off the snow covered fields northwest of Batogne.
Down below, waiting in the snow-covered fields for the critically needed resupply of ammunition, food and medical supplies, PFC. Kenneth Hesler had this description of the arrival of the first resupply planes:
… hearing the drone of those C-47’s around noon on December 23rd, 1944, as they came over the cemetery at Bastogne and out toward Hemroulle, cheering them wildly as if at a Superbowl or World Series game—a sensation yet remembered when that scene is replayed from newsreel tapes.
For PFC. Ben Rous, the planes brought something to be used to protect those frost-bitten feet. He wrote:
Finally, on the 23rd, the sun came out and Glory be—the sky was full of our resupply planes. What a relief! What a blessing! Watching those bundles of supplies and ammunition drop was a sight to behold. As we retrieved the bundles, first we cut up the bags to wrap around our feet, then took the supplies back to their proper areas. What a great feeling to have warm feet!
The 435th Troop Carrier Group which flew Division Headquarters into both Normandy and Holland, was on hand to drop much needed ammunition to the men at Bastogne. The group history describes the experience of one of its veteran pilots:99
One of the most harrowing individual experiences was that of Capt. Paul W. Dahl, of Los Angeles, Calif., who was leading the second element of his squadron. Four minutes from the drop zone, two shells burst through the plane, wounding Dahl, his co-pilot, Lt. William Murtaugh of Chicago and navigator Lt. Zeno H. Rose of Suffolk, Va. simultaneously. The first burst had sheared away all the instruments on the co-pilot’s board and half of Capt. Dahl’s panel, but the crew managed to maintain the plane in formation, sluggish as she was. They arrived over the target, dropped their supplies and made the turn to get out. As Capt. Dahl took a new heading, a burst of flak caught the lumbering plane flush in the nose, setting fire to the pilot’s compartment Capt. Dahl gave the order to bail out and, after setting the plane in a gradual glide, left the cockpit to jump himself. He attempted to find his chest-pack chute, but was unable to do so. Going back into the main cargo cabin, he did find an extra seat-type chute, but was unable to fasten it properly because of his arm wound. ‘At this time, the rest of the crew had already left the airplane,’ Dahl later stated, ‘so I placed my arms through the shoulder straps of the seat-type chute and jumped and hung on by my arms until I reached the ground. At the time I left the plane, it had stalled out on its left side and was beginning to dive toward the ground. Due to the fact that the plane had stalled just before I jumped, I believe the air speed was at an absolute minimum, which resulted in very little opening shock from the chute. It was my opinion the only reason I was able to hang on the chute straps by my arms in descent’ Luckily, Capt. Dahl landed in friendly territory and was given immediate first aid. His co-pilot, navigator and door-load man were all brought to the same place. The radio operator and crew chief were apparently lost. Their chutes were riddled by machine gun fire.
The 438th Troop Carrier Group participated in three aerial resupply drops during the time the 101st Airborne Division was surrounded at Bastogne. On the 23rd and 26th, the drops were over Bastogne while the one on the 24th was near Morcouray, outside the Bastogne area. 1Lt. Austin Buchanan has this description of the first day mission:100
December 23, 1944. After we went to bed last night, the Group C.O. received other orders for today. The planes were unloaded and para-packs were installed. When we awakened this morning, we were told to dress for a combat mission—to relieve the beleaguered 101st Division at Bastogne. Went to a briefing after an early mess. The major briefed us and we were in our planes by 11:00. Were delayed for a time by new orders but at 12:40 hours, started engines and took off at 13:00. Our load consisted of six parabundles and four door bundles.
Flew to A-91, near Sedan, which had been designated as the IP. As we turned to our next course of 58 degrees, we could see heavy black puffs of smoke to the right of course. This, we knew, was the flak—the fire from the hated German 88’s. Fighters were all around us and we could watch as they dive-bombed German tanks, half-tracks and gun positions. Our course continued on for forty miles to the DZ with only intermittent flak and some small arms fire to bother. Heard one fellow say that he had been hit but after the Holland missions this one was fairly easy. Dropped our bundles on a large field at the edge of the town of Bastogne, where the 101st Airborne Division was so heroically fighting off an immensely superior (in numbers only) foe. We could see furious fighting going on below and were glad to see G.I.’s race out to retrieve the bundles we had dropped. As we turned away, I saw one of our planes leave the formation suddenly, nose downward and blow up as it hit the ground near the DZ. Upon return to the field, we discovered that it had been Lt. Roberts’ plane. He was a pilot in the 88th Squadron.
The trip back was without incident until we hit England. Ran into bad weather and lost formation but turned on the compass, picked up G.C. and rode in on the beam.
Ground to Air Communication
The work of Capt. Ja
mes Parker, Capt. Charles Cherle and 1Lt. George B. Woldt in providing communication with the fighter bombers sent in support of the ground troops at Bastogne is described by Meyer Levin:101
Great quantities of German armored equipment was smashed and thus prevented from dislodging the American ground troops from Bastogne. This was done when the two captains and Lt. Woldt operated a switchboard and, by various types of radio-to-plane systems, contacted the Thunderbolts and sent them on their murderous missions against the Nazi tanks.
After the battle, Capt. Cherle told Levin, ‘I would have bet three years pay the planes couldn’t work over the enemy so close to our troops.’
At one point in the battle, according to Capt. Cherle, the telephone rang and a Thunderbolt pilot came in with ‘Kingfish leader here, Kingfish leader here, See armor in woods. Is it ours or Krauts?’
Capt. Cherle replied, ‘I don’t think we have anything there but hold on until I check the position.’ Picking up another telephone, Capt. Cherle made sure the armor was part of an enemy force.
He shouted to the pilot, ‘Buzzard calling Kingfish. Go ahead and shoot them up.’ A moment later, four planes dove out of the sky with machine guns chattering to knock out the tanks.
The tank switchboard was set up in the first few days of the battle for the important Belgian road hub. The air liaison team was made up of officers from various land units, in addition to Capt. Parker who is a pilot with three Zeros to his credit in the South Pacific.
Capt. Parker went into Bastogne with essential radio parts bulging his pocket. In short order, the switchboard was set up and soon the team was directing artillery fire as well as the Thunderbolts.
‘Once we saw some planes sneak up on our boys who were bombing the German tanks,’ said Capt. Parker. ‘We called our planes and warned them and in a few seconds they wheeled, caught and knocked out the would-be attackers,’ he declared.
During the three days of good flying weather as many as 19 squadrons circled Bastogne and sometimes the switchboard gave directions to as many as five of them at once. The Germans made every effort to hide their tanks but the planes attacked anything that looked as if it were a good hiding place and caught many of the enemy that way.
Capt. Parker described one typical dawn mission. The enemy, he said, was barely more than 1,000 yards away and the switchboard man could hear their tanks clattering away in an attempt to move out and go to work.
The switchboard, he declared, would immediately contact the Piper Cubs and order them to watch for fresh tank tracks in the snow and telephone back the position. Then, the Thunderbolts would get their instructions to go out and wipe out the tanks.
‘The beautiful teamwork of this tank switchboard group, which underwent severe shelling but never stopped talking to the fighter-bombers, was one reason why the German attackers kept butting their heads into a stonewall,’ Capt. Parker said.
Wrong Target!
Before the air-to-ground communication was fine tuned, there were some problems on the first day when air support could be provided. PFC. Charles Lenzing of the 101st Signal Company remembered watching the planes dropping supplies for the first time on December 23. He also wrote of mistaken targets:
I was watching a C-47, it’s cargo door open and the right engine on fire, sputter past us and, just before it cleared out of my view, I saw two parachutes come out of the plane. The plane then crashed out of my view.
Just then, a flight of two P-47 fighter-bombers came low from the left over the cemetery and down the valley toward enemy territory. One dipped a wing—I think he was trying to mark a chute gone astray. Seeing the wing dip, the other pilot, looking around to his left saw only our pack howitzer in the edge of the trees on the opposite side of the valley. Thinking it was German, he wheeled his plane up and to the left coming around he dove at the unsuspecting men with the artillery piece, firing all of his wing guns. I saw the light and dark green evergreens and the leafless trees of winter shake from the hail of bullets. Pieces of branches went flying off. The second P- 47 followed suit and a terrible thing was happening right in front of me and four or five other guys. The planes came around for a second pass and, as they started dropping their wing bombs, an unseen machine gunner near the field piece opened fire on them. I could see the tracer bullets penetrating the right wing next to the body and my thoughts were with those poor guys on the ground as I kept repeating to myself, ‘Aim a little more to the right!’ then I realized I was shouting at the top of my voice, ‘Kill that son-of-a- bitch!’ The other guys were also screaming obscenities.
At that moment, a man came running up to us shouting, ‘Where is the main radio?’ I instantly pointed the way. He was the air to ground coordinator. After that, the P-47 planes withdrew. Can you imagine how those pilots must have felt, knowing they had machine-gunned and bombed their own men!
Over at the Fire Direction Center of the 377th Parachute Field Artillery Battalion, Sgt. John Kolesar was in the target area when the strafing and bombing attack occurred. He recalled the incident:
I don’t recall the date, but the skies cleared and, to keep me sane, T/Sgt. George Barnett handed me an axe and he and I started chopping wood for the stove in FDC. All of a sudden, a Headquarters Battery machine gun began firing at a low flying plane. This plane was American and we knew we were in trouble. The plane flew upward and circled around, came back over and dropped a bomb near us. You could see a manure pile, straw and many other items going sky-ward. T/Sgt. Barnett pushed me aside, ran into the FDC and returned with orange panels. He ran across the road into an open field and began to display the panels to let the pilot know that we were Americans. Meanwhile, the rest of us near the machine gun section swore we would kill the next man who shot at that plane. Thank God, the pilot spotted Barnett and the panels, tipped his wings and went on.
During the time the weather turned from damp, foggy and cold to snowy and bitter cold, Cpl. Robert T. Romo, a member of “C” Battery howitzer crew, developed trenchfoot. When he took off his boots to put on dry socks, his feet swelled and he was unable to put the boots back on. He cut pieces from one of his blankets and wrapped them around his feet and inserted them into his galoshes.
On the 23rd of December, the gun crew was eating a meal of hot cakes beside a small fire near a local bam and about 20 feet from his foxhole when the men noticed four P-47’s flying low and strafing German positions. Cpl. Romo picks up the story:
We cheered when they swooped down and fired their machine guns at the Germans. Suddenly, one P-47 turned and came straight at us, firing it’s MG guns at us. What a terrible and helpless feeling to see your own planes coming at you, firing their guns. We made a mad dash for our foxhole. I was spinning and wheeling, trying to move up a little icy incline with no help from my galoshes. All I remember are the bullets hitting close by as I dove into my foxhole and curled up into a little ball and started praying. McCullough stuck his head into the foxhole and kept asking if I was alright I finally hollered at him, ‘Can’t you see I’m praying!’
He jumped into the foxhole just as the P-47 made another pass and this time he dropped a bomb on our position. One of our officers finally jumped out into an open area and kept waving our identification panel. The pilots acknowledged and then flew to other targets.
The strafing by friendly planes was a lasting memory for Sgt. Steve Koper of “Baker” Battery. He wrote:
The day the fog cleared for the first time, I was assigned to take the jeep out to the drop zone to pick up resupplies. I jumped in the jeep and headed for the DZ. As I hit the road, our P-47’s came behind me, strafing the road. I turned the jeep into a snow bank and ran for the open field. When I returned to the jeep, it had three holes in it but was not hit in a vital spot. I drove to the drop zone and it was being shelled. I threw six cases of K-rations into the jeep and got the hell out of there.
The strafing reports by our own planes came, for the most part, from men of the 377th and 463rd Parachute Artillery Battalions. PFC. Wi
lliam Kummerer from “Dog” Battery of the 463rd had this report:
A disconcerting moment—when a P-47 red-nosed fighter strafed our machine gun position. Seeing wing guns flashing at you from one of your own is depressing. When his first pass was completed, I ordered the gunner, Colombus Frazier, to fire on the Thunderbolt should it attempt a second pass. It did and we fired up, passing his nose and seeing red tracers (the Germans used green) he aborted the attack.
Engineer Reinforcements to Marvie
Division Headquarters, sensing that a major build-up was taking place on the southern perimeter, ordered one of its engineer platoons from the Ile-le-Pre and Senonchamps front to move to Marvie to support 2nd Battalion of the 327th. Describing their roles as members of 3rd Platoon of “B” Company, Privates Edward Carowick and Kenneth Knarr were part of this move. When the snows came to Bastogne, Carowick had used his G.I. ingenuity. He found a loose piece of roofing tin and fashioned it into a toboggan-like sled to which he attached a tow rope of communication wire. This way, the men were able to move their heavy machine gun and ammunition boxes from place to place along their assigned perimeter.
By the time 3rd Platoon was ordered to Marvie, it was already 11 or 12 men short. Carowick remembered how care was taken in positioning the men in strategic positions:
On the eve of December 23, the commander of ‘B’ Company received orders for our unit to be attached to the 327th Glider Regiment in an infantry role.
The 3rd Platoon was ordered to prepare, assemble and depart for Marvie, to assist in its defense along with 2nd Battalion of the 327th. We were to leave as soon as possible. It was pretty dark when we arrived.
Battered Bastards of Bastogne Page 32
