The Last Battle: When U.S. And German Soldiers Joined Forces in the Waning Hours of World War II in Europe

by Stephen Harding

  Lee’s company was equipped with early models of the M4 Sherman medium tank, a robust vehicle armed with a single turret-mounted 75mm cannon, two .30-caliber machine guns (one in the lower hull and the other mounted coaxially8 with the main gun), and one .50-caliber machine gun (on a swivel mount atop the turret for air defense). Each tank was crewed by five men—the driver and assistant driver/machine gunner in the lower hull, and the gunner, loader, and vehicle commander in the turret. Though the Sherman was inferior in both armor and armament to the German tanks it was meant to engage—a fact Lee and his comrades wouldn’t become aware of until they entered combat—it was mechanically reliable and surprisingly nimble for a vehicle with an average combat weight of some thirty-five tons.

  Given Jack Lee’s temperament, it comes as no surprise that during the 12th AD’s training in both Kentucky and Texas he personally demonstrated the “mental alertness and aggressiveness, and ability to think, act and quickly take advantage of tactical opportunities”9 that the army considered to be the essential qualities of an armored corps officer. Lee worked doggedly to mold his platoon into an aggressive, determined, and cohesive group. Indeed, he and his twenty-five men soon developed a reputation as Company B’s rough-and-tumble, “Hell for Leather” platoon,10 always eager to push themselves to the limit during field maneuvers—and equally ready to raise a little hell in Abilene’s bars and clubs when they got the chance. Lee himself was no slouch when it came to having fun; he pushed himself and his men hard during the workday, but off duty he was known as a man who thoroughly enjoyed a drink and a laugh. His frequent companion on his forays into Abilene was First Lt. Harry Basse, Company B’s motor officer—the man responsible for managing the maintenance program for the company’s tracked and wheeled vehicles. Though the thirty-three-year-old from Pomona, California, was in many ways Lee’s exact opposite—tall, lanky, soft-spoken, and contemplative11—the two men formed a lifelong friendship that was initially based on mutual respect for each other’s military skills and on a shared desire to put those skills to work killing Germans.

  In July 1944 Lee, Basse, and the roughly 10,750 other men of the 12th AD learned that they would soon have the chance to put all their training to good use: The division was alerted for overseas movement. Leaving their tanks and other vehicles behind in Texas, in August the troops boarded trains for the slow trip to Camp Shanks, New York, twenty miles north of Manhattan. Arriving in groups between September 8 and 13, the GIs underwent several days of predeployment processing—physical exams, inoculations, equipment issue, and the sobering act of updating wills and GI life-insurance forms—and on September 18 and 19 were back on the rails, this time for the short ride to the port of embarkation at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. The men of the division were allocated among several vessels, with the 23rd TB embarked on Empress of Australia, a twenty-five-year-old Canadian Pacific Steamships passenger liner converted for troopship duty.12 After eleven days at sea—largely spent sleeping, playing seemingly endless games of poker, and attempting to stave off seasickness—the men of the 23rd TB gratefully disembarked at the southern English port of Southampton. They and the rest of the division were then moved north by train and bus to Tidworth Barracks, a vast staging area on Salisbury Plain, where they spent the remainder of September and the first weeks of November gearing up for war.13

  The major part of that task consisted of drawing new tanks, trucks, halftracks, and “peeps”—the latter being the name by which tankers referred to the Willys-built four-wheel-drive vehicle everyone else in the U.S. Army called a “jeep.” Lee and his men were happy to see that the Shermans being issued to the 23rd TB were examples of the upgraded M4A3 variant powered by liquid-cooled Ford GAA V-8 engines, which were more powerful and reliable than the Continental-built radials that had propelled the tanks they’d trained on in Texas. Lee and his men named their new Sherman Besotten Jenny14 and over the following weeks ensured that both they and the vehicle were as prepared as possible for the battles to come.

  Transported from England to France aboard U.S. Navy LSTs15 in November 1944, the 12th Armored Division—now commanded by Major General Roderick R. Allen and assigned to Lieutenant General Alexander M. Patch’s U.S. Seventh Army—underwent its baptism of fire in early December in a series of sharp fights in France’s Alsace-Lorraine region. These initial battles in and around the German-occupied forts of the Maginot Line were sobering for the men of the 12th AD, and especially so for Lee and his colleagues in the 23rd TB. The battalion fared reasonably well in its first combat action, on December 9, when it supported the 17th Armored Infantry Battalion’s attack on a line of enemy-held buildings called the Bining Barracks, but that night Company B commander Captain Donald Cowen was killed when the peep in which he and Company C’s Captain James P. Fortenberry were riding hit a mine. Cowan’s death elevated Jack Lee to command of Company B, and on December 11 battalion commander Lieutenant Colonel Montgomery C. Meigs tasked Lee and his men to spearhead the unit’s support for an infantry assault on several pillboxes blocking the line of advance. The Shermans were engaged by well-sited German antitank guns, and in the ensuing melee two of Lee’s platoon leaders were killed and the third seriously wounded.16 Battalion commander Meigs was also killed.17

  The war didn’t get any easier for Jack Lee and Company B in the months following their combat debut. Hardly had the 23rd TB made good its initial losses in men and equipment when in mid-January 1945 it and the rest of the 12th AD were engulfed in a battle that came to be known as Bloody Herrlisheim: the attempt to route German forces that had crossed the Rhine into Alsace in an attempt to recapture Strasbourg. Fought in winter snows over poor terrain against determined enemy forces that included the crack 10th SS-Panzer-Grenadier Division, the battle resulted in the virtual destruction of the 12th AD’s 43rd Tank and 17th Armored Infantry battalions, and by the time the division was relieved on January 20, seventy-two men of the 23rd TB had been killed and Lee’s Company B had lost half its Shermans.18

  The only positive outcomes of the 12th AD’s mauling at Herrlisheim were, first, that the 23rd TB’s destroyed tanks were replaced by the M4A3 (76)W variant—referred to as the “Easy 8”19—fitted with 76mm guns that were said to be more effective against German tanks than the 75mm. And though Lee didn’t think much about it at the time, the vehicles had another feature that would later prove extremely important: a “wet” ammunition-stowage system that was intended to prevent the Sherman’s 76mm rounds from detonating if the tank’s hull was breeched by enemy fire.20 And, second, the men who survived Herrlisheim came out of the battle as seasoned veterans. As the war rolled on, they—and the replacements with whom they shared their expertise—demonstrated their prowess as the Seventh Army swept across southern Germany and, eventually, into Austria.

  Along the way, Jack Lee sharpened his skills as a combat leader and was awarded the Bronze Star for his “superior leadership ability … cool and aggressive handling of the platoon … and his courage and his ability to meet any situation that confronted him.”21 By the time the 23rd TB—which along with the 17th Armored Infantry and 495th Armored Field Artillery battalions constituted the 12th AD’s Combat Command R (CCR)—crossed the Austrian frontier late on the evening of May 3, 1945, the unit was arguably among the most experienced and successful tank battalions in the U.S. Army and Lee one of its ablest officers.

  And it was because 23rd TB commander Lieutenant Colonel Kelso G. Clow considered Lee to be one of the best tank officers in the 12th AD that Lee spearheaded the division’s move into Austria. Weeks earlier Clow had tapped the aggressive young tanker to lead Task Force (TF) Lee, a mixed group of Company B Shermans and halftracks bearing black GIs of the 17th AIB’s Company D.22 TF Lee was “on point” for both the battalion and CCR, punching ahead of the main force to clear enemy roadblocks, secure key bridges and road junctions, and reconnoiter the towns and villages on the line of advance.

  While the task-force mission ideally suited Lee’s aggressive and piratical n
ature, we can safely assume that at least some of the men serving under him were not quite so enthusiastic about being “out front.” Hitler’s suicide on April 30 and the obvious disintegration of the German armed forces clearly indicated to most GIs that the end of the war in Europe was imminent, and no one wanted to be the last man killed in “Krautland.” The men of TF Lee were thus heartened by news their brash young captain—he’d been officially promoted on May 123—passed around soon after he halted the unit in Kufstein at 3:25 PM on May 4. Upon radioing battalion commander Clow that the task force was in the town and had encountered no opposition, Lee was told to “hold in place” because CCR was in the process of turning over responsibility for Kufstein and the surrounding region to the 36th Infantry Division. A theater-wide cease-fire was possible at any time within the next twenty-four hours, and Lee was ordered to establish defensive positions, engage German forces only if fired on, and await relief by elements of the 36th ID’s 142nd Infantry Regiment.

  When Lee passed the news on to the men of his task force, they were jubilant. The war was apparently over for all intents and purposes, and they were still alive. Though Lee cautioned them not to let their guard down, more than a few of his men pulled “liberated” bottles of schnapps or wine from their packs or from hiding places within their vehicles and began toasting each other. There was much laughing and backslapping throughout the column as the “Joes” began setting up defensive positions, but up forward, around Lee’s tank, the sudden arrival of a Wehrmacht officer waving a white flag quickly stifled the levity. News of the German’s appearance rippled up and down the American column, and, when Jack Lee ducked into the turret of his tank to use the radio, those GIs in the immediate area who best knew the young American captain collectively held their breath.

  When Lee reappeared with a wolfish smile on his face, they knew with sinking hearts that their war wasn’t over quite yet.

  EVEN AS GANGL AND LEE were meeting in Kufstein, a Schloss Itter rescue operation of which neither was aware was already in motion—thanks to Zvonko Čučković.

  After spending the night in the hotel-turned-barracks, promptly at seven o’clock on the morning of May 4—even as Reynaud and Clemenceau were setting out on their stroll through Itter village—the well-rested Croat handyman had returned to the Innsbruck town hall. The Yugoslav-American civilian he’d met the day before introduced him to Major John T. Kramers, a German-speaking former artilleryman now assigned to the 103rd’s military-government section.24 Having read Christiane Mabire’s letter, Kramers realized that a rescue mission to Schloss Itter was urgent. He called in one of the division’s French army liaison officers (who also happened to be a good friend), Lieutenant25 Eric Lutten, and together the two men poured over maps of the northern Tyrol and plotted out a route that would take them to the castle via the same roads Čučković had ridden. Kramers took the plan to his boss, who authorized the mission and arranged for three M4 Shermans of the 103rd’s attached 783rd Tank Battalion to provide the necessary firepower.

  The would-be rescuers set out just after noon, with Kramers, Lutten, Čučković, and a sergeant named Gris leading in a jeep. They rolled through Hall, Schwaz, and Jenbach without difficulty, but just east of Rattenberg they were stopped by GIs of Lieutenant Colonel Hubert E. Strange’s 409th Infantry Regiment. The Joes told them that what appeared to be at least a hundred Waffen-SS troops were deployed in the town. The Germans were using panzerfausts, several MG-42s, and at least one antitank gun to cover the road, and they had already knocked out one U.S. Sherman and two M3 halftracks. When the infantrymen estimated that it would be dark before they could root out the SS men and clear the road, Kramers reluctantly had to order his small force back to Innsbruck. Given the uncertainty of the tactical situation in Tyrol, division policy forbade small-unit, nontactical road movements at night.

  As Jack Lee was informing his battalion commander of Gangl’s arrival in Kufstein, Kramers was busy in Innsbruck putting together a larger rescue column he felt confident would be able to deal effectively with almost anything the Germans might throw at them while still being small enough to move rapidly. His new task force would consist of four M10 tank destroyers from the 824th TD Battalion, three jeeps equipped with .50-caliber machine guns, a truck bearing a platoon of infantrymen from the 3rd Battalion of the 409th, and an empty truck intended to carry the French VIPs and their baggage. As Kramers was putting the finishing touches on his plan, two civilians—U.S. war correspondent Meyer Levin and French photographer Eric Schwab—asked his permission to accompany the rescue force. Kramers agreed and told them the column would set out for Schloss Itter at dawn.26

  It would prove to be an eventful journey.

  IN HIS RESPONSE TO JACK LEE’S radio message regarding Sepp Gangl’s appearance in Kufstein, 23rd TB commander Kelso Clow had directed Lee to deal with the situations in Wörgl and at Schloss Itter as he saw fit. Apparently not wanting to put the bulk of his task force in danger until it became absolutely necessary, Lee made what can only be described as a characteristically gutsy decision: He told Gangl that he wouldn’t move the column into Wörgl or mount a full-blown rescue mission to Schloss Itter until he’d undertaken a personal reconnaissance to both places. And Lee, in an obvious test of Gangl’s good faith and veracity, said they’d make the trip together in the major’s kübelwagen. We don’t know how Gangl felt about Lee’s ultimatum, but we can be fairly certain that the GI whom Lee tapped to join him on the jaunt behind enemy lines—his twenty-nine-year-old gunner Corporal Edward J. “Stinky” Szymczyk27—probably wasn’t too pleased to be “volunteered” for the mission.28

  After passing temporary command of the task force to his executive officer, Lee wedged himself into the kübelwagen’s cramped rear seat, with Szymczyk beside him and Gangl in the front passenger seat. As Corporal Keblitsch put the vehicle in motion, the two Americans settled back, their helmets most probably on the floor so as not to attract undue attention and their M3 submachine guns almost certainly laying cocked and ready on their laps. The party didn’t encounter any hostile troops on the road to Wörgl, and the Wehrmacht soldiers they did meet were all loyal to Gangl. Lee checked several small bridges for demolition charges, and those he found Gangl ordered his men to remove. The kübelwagen rolled into Wörgl at approximately four thirty in the afternoon, and within minutes Lee had formally accepted Gangl’s surrender of the town and its remaining garrison. In what can only have been both an obvious gesture of trust and a pragmatic acknowledgment that Gangl and his men were the only force capable of fighting off Waffen-SS units that might assault the town, the American tanker allowed the Germans to keep their weapons.

  Formalities over, Gangl introduced Lee to Rupert Hagleitner and other key Wörgl resisters. The American officer told the Austrians that they were responsible for the town’s administration until U.S. troops arrived and that Gangl’s now-surrendered Wehrmacht soldiers would provide security. Then, turning to the matter of Schloss Itter, Lee asked Hagleitner to map out what he thought would be the safest route to the castle. Hagleitner instead offered to show him the way, and just before five thirty Lee, Gangl, Hagleitner, and Szymczyk set out in the kübelwagen, followed by Blechschmidt and several men in a small truck.

  Though the distance to the castle was little more than five road miles, the need to take narrow dirt tracks and make several detours to avoid Waffen-SS roadblocks meant it took the party nearly forty-five minutes to reach Itter village. When they entered the small square in front of St. Joseph’s Church, they encountered Kurt-Siegfried Schrader, who was on his way home after his drawn-out meeting with the French VIPs. Schrader told Lee he’d taken responsibility for the former prisoners’ safety, and Gangl, seeing Lee’s obvious skepticism, vouched for Schrader, whom he knew from Battle Group Giehl. Lee then told the Waffen-SS officer to return to the castle with his family and explained that a U.S. rescue force would arrive soon.29

  This latter statement was a bit misleading, of course, in that Lee would have
to return to Kufstein to assemble the relief column. And before he could do that, he had to ensure that the situation at the castle was in fact as Gangl had represented it to be. He thus directed Hagleitner, who was driving, to continue the 150 yards on to the castle. As the kübelwagen slowly approached the gatehouse—presumably with one of its occupants waving a white flag—two armed Frenchmen30 stepped forward and leveled their weapons. Their understandable chagrin at the arrival of a German military vehicle would quickly have dissipated when Lee slowly stood up in the rear seat and announced himself to be an American officer.

  Quickly ushered before the gathered French VIPs, Lee introduced himself and declared that he would return very soon with a sizable rescue force. While the tanker’s exact words were not recorded, we can be certain that they were greeted with relief and enthusiasm. But we can also be fairly sure that Lee expressed himself in his typically brash, straightforward way, and, while he impressed Reynaud as having the “fine figure of a football player,”31 he didn’t make a particularly good impression on at least one of the other former prisoners. Though Édouard Daladier found Sepp Gangl to be “polite” and “dignified,” the American captain struck him as “crude in both looks and manners,” and the former French premier sniffed that “if Lee is a reflection of America’s policies, Europe is in for a hard time.”32