by Ian Gardner
The Germans utilized any mode of transport they could lay their hands on, including captured American jeeps, motorcycles with sidecars, and even civilian vehicles. The image of the wounded and the blood-soaked floor is something my family will not forget, and never quite knowing what the Germans were going to do with us was a terrible feeling.
Eventually, Sulbout was destroyed by fire and we moved to another farm nearby owned by the Clarence family. We had just made ourselves comfortable in the kitchen when the German medics transferred their aid station and forced us yet again down into the cellar. One morning I happened to be upstairs in the kitchen with my sister Denise (then aged ten) when we witnessed something quite strange. A German officer was lying on a couch and seemed to be unwell when another soldier came in and made the man a cup of coffee. Moments later the officer collapsed and two other men arrived, wrapped his body in tarpaulin and threw it in the back of a vehicle before driving away toward some nearby woodland. We never did find out what was going on.
A few days later, when the Germans needed more space, we were asked to leave. My dad had no idea what we were going to do as we packed up our meager belongings and set off down the road. We had not gone far when intense rifle fire forced us into a nearby barn. Bullets were bouncing off the steel girders and we were in no doubt that whoever was shooting seemed to be targeting us. Eventually the firing stopped and we continued south to Lavaselle and a big farm owned by Henri Cop, who, along with his family, was in the process of evacuating. Although the house had been burned to the ground the surrounding barns were still habitable. Mr Cop said it would be OK for us to stay in one of the stables with the animals which we knew would provide us with warmth. We couldn’t believe our luck when a day or so later (around January 15/16) the Americans arrived and set up a field kitchen. We stayed at the farm for about a month and were fed like kings, unlike many of the troops who had been trapped inside the pocket during the encirclement.
All the king’s men – Philippe’s story
Overlooking Recogne, about a mile northwest of Foy, is the Château d’Hoffschmidt, known locally as “The Whitehouse.” Built in 1842, the beautiful three-storey manor house still belongs to the d’Hoffschmidt family, who own some of the surrounding farmland as well as the dense area of woods along the ridge overlooking Recogne and Foy known as the Bois Champay (Champay Woods). In 1944, two large ornamental ponds adorned the grounds in front of the château, which was also planted with European beech trees to create a luxurious rural idyll for the family – who have played an important role in the community for the last 400 years.
Before the war, Baron François d’Hoffschmidt employed dozens of local people as domestic staff, forestry, and farm workers. At Christmas, Francois would personally wrap and give presents to local children, who were always excited to visit the “big house.” At the time around one-third of the properties in Recogne were owned by the family, the front doors of which were painted in a burgundy color with a white diagonal stripe. Located on the southeastern edge of the château grounds was a large tenant farm run by Nestor Degives, from where there was direct road access to the ridge and the Bois Champay. This logging track, known locally as Route Madame, would later become vital to the Americans during their occupation of the woods.
François d’Hoffschmidt’s son, Philippe, was 15 years old in 1944 and, despite his privileged upbringing, did not escape unscathed. “My mother Juliette died in 1940 during the early stages of the occupation and my father, who had been wounded in World War I, joined the National Movement of Belgium (NMB).” François gathered intelligence for the resistance in Bastogne and also harbored several “divers” (people hiding from the authorities) in the château and nearby stable. “After the liberation in September 1944, things quickly returned to normal,” recalls Philippe. “On Monday, December 18, 1944, I was attending college at Marche-en-Famenne, when we heard about the German attack and the following day asked the principal if I could return to Bastogne. Initially he denied permission but after convincing him that I would go to Namur, I managed to catch the last tram back to Bastogne that halted on the edge of the city around 4pm.” The long-distance tram service ran from Arlon on the Luxembourg border to Bastogne’s southern railway station (Gare du Sud) before continuing northwest for 30 miles to Marche-en-Famenne. The service was closed in 1951 and today nothing remains to show the tramline ever existed. Philippe continues:
While making my way home, I was stopped along the N30 by troops from the SR (Belgian Secret Army) and sent back to Bastogne. Once out of sight, I headed west through the woods toward Savy in an attempt to reach Recogne. Approaching the château at Rolley, I came under several bursts of machine-gun fire. Not sure what to do, I took cover and began to sing the nursery rhyme “Frere Jacques” in French. The gunfire stopped, and, still singing, I walked forward, until an American soldier [502nd PIR] stood up, motioned to me with his hand and said, “Hello boy, come in.” Once inside the castle, I bumped into my eldest sister, Gabrielle, with her two children who told me that my father, three other sisters, a cousin, and some of the domestic staff had already left Rolley and gone northwest to Givry. That night, as American artillery fire intensified, the château began to fill with civilians.
The following morning (December 20) I decided to catch up with my father, and before leaving said goodbye to my sister, not knowing if I would ever see her again. Approaching Champs, the outgoing American artillery fire was so close I could feel the pressure waves against my chest. Not long afterwards I arrived at the Gelis Farm in Givry and began to ask if anyone had seen François d’Hoffschmidt. Initially people were reluctant to say anything until they realized he was my father. I learned that he had joined a larger group who were now heading to Givroulle [not far from Crossroad X where 326th Airborne Medical Co had been attacked and captured the night before].
As I was making my way to Givroulle I met up with my father and the rest of the family who had just been turned back by a German roadblock. Returning to Givry we joined around 25 other people sheltering in the house and stable at Gelis Farm. The next day (December 21) the Germans arrived [from 26.Volksgrenadier-Division] with their horses and carts. I was surprised to see that among them were dozens of soldiers, who couldn’t have been more than 16 years old, using pushchairs to carry machine guns and ammunition. These teenage troops were very aggressive and could barely be controlled by their officers and senior NCOs. On Christmas Eve the entire village was occupied and we ended up sharing the kitchen of the farmhouse with the soldiers. That evening to celebrate Christmas we managed to steal a few cups of hot mulled wine from the Germans. Many soldiers were coming back to the farm from the front lines for some rest and dozens of horse-drawn ambulances were also bringing in wounded. As the situation became more desperate the troops were immediately sent back into combat. One of these told me that he had been fighting non-stop for the last 56 hours and was now a physical and nervous wreck.
Around this time all of the able-bodied amongst us were ordered forward into the front line [now at Champs] to dig trenches. I took my father’s place on the work detail and spent the next three days digging defensive positions 500 yards away from the American lines. The Germans didn’t care if we lived or died and digging in the frozen ground was back-breaking work. By accident, one man broke the handle of a pick and then a shovel. Claiming it was sabotage, the Germans took the poor fellow to one side and shot him in the head.
When we returned to the farm, I told my family and a few other men to hide in a nearby barn amongst the cows, where I knew we would be warm and hopefully safe from further work details. Some new troops arrived and rounded up anyone they could find but luckily failed to check the stalls where we were hiding. This might seem strange but despite being hungry everyone respected the fact that the livestock still belonged to somebody, and therefore very few were ever slaughtered by the refugees or the Germans – besides, after what we had seen everyone felt that the American forces would soon prevail. On the morning
of January 12/13, we were liberated by the troops from the 17th Airborne Division and I immediately headed back to Rolley to look for my sister and her two children. It had been nearly three weeks since any of us had changed our clothes so you can imagine how we must have smelt. Before we could all return to Recogne, my father had to get permission from the military authorities in Bastogne, which was denied for several days, because they said our home was designated as unsafe. In the meantime, while waiting for permission, we stayed in Savy with the Mayor of Longchamps, Gustave Stilmant. On January 16, the authorities granted permission for us to return, but despite having all the correct paperwork we were stopped by American forces near Monaville at Belle Fontaine Farm. A couple of days later we made it back to what was left of the château and found the house occupied by the Americans, who allowed us to live in the basement where the kitchen was located. After the war, my father, who had just about lost everything, went to the bank and borrowed enough money to repair the château and rebuild his other properties … which in a way became his legacy to Recogne.
One man – one bullet
When 3rd Bn reached Foy during the late afternoon of December 19, the men were deployed along a 2-mile front stretching from the railway line (that ran southeast through Bastogne to Gouvy) to Recogne in the northwest.
“It was still daylight when we arrived,” recalls Jim Martin. “Col Sink personally directed us toward our final locations. To me, the colonel never looked flustered, no matter how bad the situation might have seemed.” Sink selected a handful of men from G Co 1 Ptn including Ewell Martin to act as security while he drove into Noville for a meeting with 1st Bn. “I can remember watching for snipers as the colonel surveyed the town which was burning. The stench of the fire was horrible and it is something that I have never forgotten.”
Back in Foy, G Co moved west and took up positions facing toward Recogne. At the time nobody imagined that Foy would become so important to the outcome of the campaign. Potentially the road through the two villages afforded safe passage for any enemy troops and vehicles moving northwest toward the high ground overlooking Hemroulle. “That first night,” recalls Jim Martin, “1 Ptn were on the left flank aligning with 3/502 [led by LtCol John Stopka – who were holding the line to Longchamps]. 2 Ptn (my platoon) held the central sector, and 3 Ptn were on our right connecting with H Co [H/506] who for the most part were deployed on the eastern side of the N30.” The Line of Defense (LOD) for G Co began in the west on the edge of the Bois Champay and ran down Route Madame past the Degives Farm and Château d’Hoffschmidt along the northeastern edge of Recogne, before turning due south across open ground paralleling the road back into Foy.
Col Patch established his CP at Detaille Farm, located on the extreme right flank of 3rd Bn’s LOD. The sizeable two-storey house had only recently been abandoned by the Detaille family and was marked on the map as “Halte Station” because in the 1920s the building had been the rail terminus for Bizory. The sector allocated to H Co followed a secondary road that ran perpendicular to the N30 for about 1,500 yards to the railway embankment at Detaille Farm. Initially 1st Lt Bob Stroud (H Co 1 Ptn) was told to deploy his men across the N30 on the extreme northern edge of Foy.
Stroud placed Sgt Lou Vecchi’s 2nd Squad on the left of the main road while Sgt Hank DiCarlo’s 1st Squad and Sgt Bob Martin’s 3rd Squad occupied the area immediately to the right. Sgt Walter Patterson’s 4th Squad remained in reserve. “Bob Martin was always a bit aloof,” recalls Lou Vecchi. “Bob’s Dad was a police officer and for some reason he thought himself as being better than some of the other guys in the platoon. Back in September, Martin had taken a lot of criticism during the attack on Eindhoven after he withdrew his squad at a critical moment, leaving our right flank with I Co completely exposed.”
Along with communications sergeant Gordon Yates and Cpl Nick Snyder, Stroud established his CP in the Gaspard Farm at the crossroads in the center of Foy. A short while later Stroud received orders from Capt Walker to redeploy to the railway line over on the right flank to help bolster the defenses of 3 Ptn. “At first it didn’t register quite how far away it was until Sgt Martin came back and told me he was having a hell of a time reaching it.” After a brief conversation with Alex Andros, Bob decided to deploy all four of his squads locally in a line because of the wide frontal area the company was now expected to cover. Shortly afterwards a decision was made by Battalion to bring elements of I Co out of reserve (who were desperately short of rifles) and place them into the area between Stroud and Clark Heggeness (2 Ptn). I Co were sent east with what weapons they could muster, toward the railway line, and deployed around the battalion CP. Manny Barrios was part of that group. “I took a couple of guys and set up a forward observation post (OP) close to the railway and began feeding information back to the battalion via radio.”
“Foy was so quiet when we arrived it seemed almost like a ghost town,” recalls Vecchi, who was 23 years old at the time. “The only sound being made was by us as we dug in. I didn’t see any civilians but noticed dozens of animals still in their pens and stalls which were adjoined to some of the houses. As they appeared to be hungry, especially the pigs, we thought it best to release all the livestock we subsequently came across. I deployed my squad on the western side of the road across the open ground with the church behind us over to the right. At one point 3rd Squad were on my left but I don’t remember seeing anyone from G Co or the 502nd enter our area.”
Lt Stroud gathered the NCOs and told them that the company was going to create a defensive bubble around the village. “As my squad was straddling the main road,” recalls Hank DiCarlo, “I established a roadblock facing north controlled by Jack Grace and his machine-gun crew (consisting of Pfc Jimmy Igoe and Pfc Wilber Johnson), while my bazooka team dug a large two-man fire trench several yards further east to protect against incursions from the open fields to our right.” Two-man bazooka teams like this proved crucial during the campaign and ultimately accounted for around 40 enemy tanks and SPGs. Leaving his assistant Cpl Luther Myers (York, Pennsylvania) in charge of the squad, Hank set off with Lou Vecchi to look for a decent observation post from which to direct fire. “Along the way we took anything we could carry from the farms and barns to keep us warm,” recalls Vecchi. Behind Hank’s position, adjacent to the church was a three-storey farmhouse, the upper floors of which afforded 1 Ptn perfect views across the area to the northeast. “After reporting my positions to the company CP, I made the rounds to be sure my guys were all dug in and ready to deal with any eventuality.”
The H Co line blended with G Co to create a semi-circular pocket around Foy, which then dog-legged southwest dissecting the Bizory road, before meandering in a northerly direction, through the Bois Jacques (Jacques Woods) to Detaille Farm. Back in Foy, the property Hank and Lou selected for the OP had two improvised concrete grain shafts built into the back wall descending to a storage facility beneath the building. “We took it in turns through the night to ‘stag on’ in the OP where there was a small window overlooking the northern approaches,” remembers Vecchi.
Like many others, the Paquay family who owned the farm had taken refuge in the basement of the Koeune house across the street. At dusk a recon patrol from Volksgrenadier-Regiment 78 appeared through the mist, walking along the N30 into the H Co front line. As one of the enemy scouts cautiously moved forward, he was challenged and mortally wounded at close range. After a brief exchange of gunfire, the enemy patrol slipped away, leaving their colleague lying sprawled in the road. As the German still appeared to be alive, 23-year-old battalion medic T/5 Johnny Gibson was called forward to assist. “The casualty had suffered a massive wound to the chest and his neck was still warm as I pressed my fingers against the jugular but found no pulse,” recalls Gibson. “A couple of the H Co guys told me that as the Volksgrenadier approached their positions, he was nonchalantly whistling and had his rifle slung over his shoulder. I have often wondered if perhaps the man actually wanted to be captured.” The corpse re
mained in the road for the next three weeks and was eventually covered by a thick layer of ice and snow.
Later that night as DiCarlo was doing his rounds he stopped to spend a few moments with Pfc Joe Harris. “Carefully shielding a cigarette, Harris, who was my last man on the right, remarked, ‘Whatta you think Hank? Is this where the crap finally hits the fan?’ Wrapping the ends of a blanket around me, I replied, ‘I really don’t know, Joe, but from the look of it, somebody is going to catch hell around here and I hope to God it’s not going to be us!”
It was getting dark when Clark Heggeness handed a basic sketch map to his assistant, 2nd Lt Harry Begle, who recalls, “I had just ordered six of our men to dig in along the dirt road to the right of 1 Ptn when Clark asked me to locate the railroad and establish contact with the 501st – who were supposed to be holding the ground east of the tracks. We didn’t even have a password at that point so I was seriously concerned about getting shot by one of their guys. After walking about 500 yards to the edge of the woods, I couldn’t find the railway [which had been covered by a light dusting of snow] and decided to report back to Clark before bedding down for the night in a large haystack directly opposite our position.”
While Begle was on patrol, 1st Squad leader Sgt Ken Johnson was making sure his replacements knew exactly what was expected of them. “Private Franklin ‘Frank’ Kneller was only 19 and by far the most inexperienced, and as like me he also came from New Jersey and went to school in the next town, I kept him by my side.” The open ground between the trees now occupied by 2 Ptn had previously been used as a quarry, leaving the area littered with dozens of holes, as Ken recalls: “Kneller and I occupied one of the larger pits that afforded enough space for both of us to share quite comfortably. We were told that I Co was to our left somewhere in the woods, although personally I never actually saw them.” At the time the line held by 2 and 3 platoons was supported by a 75mm howitzer from 321st GFA and a .50cal gun mounted on a half-track from Task Force Desobry. “It was a nightmare,” recalls Kneller. “The company as a whole didn’t even have enough decent shovels to go around and the boots I’d been issued the day before were a couple of sizes too small!” 3 Ptn H Co was supposed to link up at the railway line near the 3rd Bn CP but the 501st were nowhere to be seen. In fact E and F/501 were actually located 1 mile further east at Bizory, with D Co in reserve no more than 400 yards away in a block of woods behind Detaille Farm. Despite this the 501st were active around the 3rd Bn flank as witnessed by Al Cappelli. “I bumped into a soldier on patrol from E/501 who I knew from Jump School. We chatted for a while and I asked him about my hometown buddy Hank DiSimone who was also serving in the same company.”
