by Ian Gardner
“3 Ptn took up positions in a wooded area [Bois Jacques],” recalls Alex Andros, who spoke with a slight lisp. “My assistant, 2nd Lt Willie Miller, dug in on our far-right flank. I believed in the buddy system of two men to a foxhole and placed each trench about 100 yards apart. However, the forest was so dense that a single enemy soldier could have marched between any of our positions without ever being seen.”
A faint rumble of tanks could now be heard coming from the direction of Noville. Unable to communicate with 1st Bn, Col Sink was anxious to know if the road was still open and called on 2nd Lt Ed Shames for assistance. “As it was getting dark,” recalls Ed, “Col Sink drove up in his jeep and asked me to mount a foot patrol from Foy northeast along the main road toward Noville.” Sink told Shames that he should go no further than the haystacks on the southern edge of town. During the briefing, Shames was amused to see Maj Clarence Hester (regimental S3) and Capt Bill Leach (regimental S2) both crammed into the back seat of the vehicle alongside LtCol Robert Strayer (CO of 2/506).
By this time, Capt Richard Winters was on the 2nd Bn staff and 1st Lt Norman Dike was the new commander of E Co. Shames continues:
Among the scouts I selected for the recon were Pvt Earl McClung, Pfc Wayne “Skinny” Sisk, Pvt Don “Cosmetic” Moon, Pvt Ed Stein [who had only just joined the platoon] and mortar man Pfc Rod Strohl. The heavy fog meant that visibility was down to a few yards as we carefully worked our way into the blackness along the road. On the outskirts of Noville, I placed my guys in all round defense before moving forward the last few hundred yards with Strohl.
Peering into the mist we could just make out the silhouettes of what looked like the haystacks that Col Sink had told me about. Strohl then commented that they were the funniest damn haystacks he’d ever seen. Suddenly we heard engines being started and it was then we realized they were actually Kraut tanks [from 2.Panzer-Division]. I put my lips to Rod’s ear and whispered, “Let’s get the hell out of here,” and carefully retraced our steps back to the boys. Once clear we double-timed back to the northern edge of Foy and reported to Sink, who inquired, “Well, Shames, what did you find?” “We counted 18 tanks sir,” I replied. Strayer then asked, “What type?” “Big ones,” I spluttered, before continuing, “… I don’t know, sir, we didn’t hang around long enough to ask!” Strayer was not impressed and tried to order me back to physically identify the enemy armor but luckily Col Sink stepped in and dismissed me.
The colonel then instructed Shames and his platoon to join I Co and wait for further orders.
Earlier, 1st Lt Floyd Johnston from 1 Ptn I Co was told to take a patrol out beyond Recogne, as Len Goodgal recalls: “He couldn’t get any volunteers, so finally I agreed and coerced Richie Shinn and Pvt Bob Steele into joining me. We moved out across the fields to a small wooded area at the bottom of the hill from where we could just about see some enemy tanks parked up. After returning to the LOD around midnight we reported our findings, and the following morning the area was bracketed by artillery.”
A matter of life and death – disaster at Crossroad X
After stopping off to collect more wounded from the chapel at the Catholic Seminary in Bastogne, “Shifty” Feiler set off at 2130hrs for the 326th Airborne Medical Co Clearing Station at Ste-Ode near Herbaimont. Less than 30 minutes after leaving Bastogne the tiny convoy approached Crossroad X – the same place visited by LtCol Kinnard the previous afternoon.
The hospital was located in an open field behind a sparsely wooded area on the northern side of the N4. It was believed that any German attack would come from the east and therefore the medical facility would be well away from the danger zone. Earlier the convoy from 801st Airborne Ordnance Co had driven up from Bastogne and parked beyond the crossroad, as 1/Sgt Bob Higgins recalls: “Our commander, Capt John ‘Pat’ Patterson, had been ordered by the divisional supply officer, LtCol Carl Kohls, to proceed to the road junction and wait for further instructions. We could see a tank parked up nearby which gave us some feeling of security although we had our truck mounted with .50cal heavy machine guns, manned and ready for action.”
Throughout the day dozens of empty supply vehicles returning to Mourmelon (which had overshot the crossroad) were directed south by the ordnance men along the N826 toward Libin. Later that evening, another convoy carrying gasoline and ammunition came up from Bastogne and parked behind the 801st. “Around 2000hrs we began to hear machine-gun fire in the distance,” recalls Bob Higgins, whose jeep and trailer were the last in their convoy and therefore nearest to the crossroad. “Pat came down the line and told me that he had a bad feeling and we should move the vehicles and equipment as soon as possible.”
Arriving from Bastogne, Shifty Feiler and his men thought it odd that every light in a nearby farmhouse should be switched on. Feiler had expected to see at least one MP directing traffic, but as his driver approached Crossroad X both vehicles were flagged down by a group of men dressed in civilian clothes. Feiler and his colleagues had unwittingly stumbled into the beginning of an attack against the medical facility by the 116.Panzergruppe. The fanatical spearhead of tanks, half-tracks, and vehicles (some captured previously from the 106th ID) had come from Houffalize via Bertogne and Givroulle, looking for a way around the river Our to Dinant, when they discovered the tents belonging to the hospital.
The enemy, who numbered around 100 men, merged with a large group of refugees before neutralizing the outposts covering the hospital’s northern approaches. The Sherman tank that had been guarding the junction was quickly captured and employed by the Germans to destroy another OP further south. Back on the main road, Feiler was growing more and more suspicious when, after a couple of minutes, the first truck was ushered onto a nearby track. A stocky-looking man approached Feiler’s vehicle and asked where they were going. Co-driver Sgt Dobbins replied, “326th Medical Hospital; we’ve got wounded men in the back – is there a problem?” After checking the rear of the lorry, the man politely asked Feiler’s driver, “Pracky,” to pull forward and park up behind the other vehicle. No sooner had he finished speaking when another small convoy arrived behind them. It was then that Feiler, who was Jewish and spoke German, realized his worst fears as the man barked an order in his native tongue and enemy soldiers appeared on the road from all directions.
As instructed, Dobbins climbed out of the cab along with Feiler (who was now clutching the pistol given to him earlier by Barney Ryan) and began guiding Pracky toward the other vehicle. “As the Krauts moved toward the convoy of trucks, I heard Captain Feiler call out to me, ‘Dobbins, bring the vehicles back – quick!’ As we reversed out onto the road, the Germans were focusing their attention on the other convoy and took the first three drivers prisoner. Things got a little confused for a few minutes, and thank heavens they did because Pracky and the other driver were able to reverse both of our vehicles onto the road and proceed toward the junction. At that point we were standing behind Pracky’s vehicle when all hell broke loose.” The attack started when a group of German half-tracks entered the field behind the N4 and began spraying the tents with machine-gun fire.
Further up the line Bob Higgins got the shock of his life. “As we were getting ready to move, our convoy came under enemy cannon fire,” he recalls. “Fortunately for us the 20mm shells were set to explode at a much greater range. However, a few hit one of the ammunition trucks parked behind me.” A driver in the other convoy opened fire with a .50cal machine gun, and the Germans blasted away with everything they had, devastating the cab before doing the same thing to the others. Feiler and his team threw themselves into a ditch as the vehicles burst into flames, including their own, which still contained the wounded who never uttered a sound as the fuel erupted around them.
While the firefight was raging, Feiler’s group ran over to the house (still ablaze with light) and hid behind a pile of sugar beet. A few seconds later the 20mm cannon began to target the building. The paratroopers rushed to the rear of the property and made their way behind an e
mbankment to a nearby field where they stopped for a moment and listened to the escalating commotion. The 801st were now returning fire into the woods opposite with their .50cal machine guns as they began to pull out along the N4 toward Marche. Several men from the black American 333rd Field Artillery Group (who by coincidence happened to be nearby) and some hospital staff came through the woods and jumped onto Bob Higgins’ trailer.
Back at the crossroad, in a panic, thinking he was going to be captured, Feiler threw his pistol (the P38 given to him earlier by Barney Ryan) into a ditch and headed toward the escaping convoy. Dobbins recalls, “I could see the blackout lights on one of the last vehicles and sprinted after it.” Luckily Feiler and the others managed to climb aboard another vehicle belonging to the 801st and make good their escape.
Around midnight, the gunfire finally stopped when the enemy troops entered the hospital. Some of the more critically injured patients, who were awaiting transfer to the 107th Evacuation Hospital at Libin, were brutally murdered in their beds, while officers like William Desobry were spared. The divisional surgeon, LtCol David Gold, surrendered the company and was given 30 minutes to gather his staff, wounded, and equipment for transportation. After being anesthetized for an emergency operation, Desobry regained consciousness in the back of an ambulance, completely unaware of the events that had just taken place around him.
The situation facing the 801st was one of complete chaos, as Bob Higgins reveals:
It was pouring with rain as we drove away, causing my driver to crash into the vehicle in front. At the same time we were rear-ended by another truck loaded with hand grenades, seriously injuring the two guys from the 333rd Artillery Group who were riding on our trailer. Worse still, one of the medics [possibly Pvt Henry Sullivan] on another trailer was crushed and died the following morning.
My jeep was completely wrecked, but luckily two of our guys had abandoned another when their trailer overturned. I managed to uncouple the twisted tow cart and pile all of our equipment in the back of the second vehicle. Further down the road two more of our trucks (carrying vitally important spares) broke down and we told the drivers that a recovery vehicle would be sent out as soon as possible. A short while later we caught up with the rear echelon of our convoy who had stopped at the pontoon bridge over the Our.
I moved forward on foot to see what was happening and walked into a heated argument between a major and a tanker, who, it transpired, was guarding the bridge and flatly refusing to blow it up. The technical sergeant, who was commanding a Sherman, told the officer (whose vehicle was blocking the traffic) to get out of the way and that he would blow the bridge when he decided. The officer acquiesced and we trundled on and eventually caught up with the rest of our outfit who had been redirected south along a gravel road toward St Hubert. Capt Patterson wanted to stay here for the night. But when we found out the engineers who were occupying the village didn’t have any explosives to demolish a nearby bridge and absolutely no heavy weapons, we decided to continue on. Luckily a local farmer and his very attractive wife acted as our guides and we spent the rest of the night working our way via St Hubert to Neufchâteau. En route we came across a Canadian Army logging detachment blocking the road seemingly unconcerned with the urgency until we informed them that the Germans were coming! After informing VIII Corps HQ (who knew nothing of the attack), Capt Patterson reported to Bastogne and had only just returned to Neufchâteau when the enemy cut the road.
Although this disaster caused the virtual collapse of the 101st Airborne’s second echelon medical facilities, it could have been much worse. About half an hour before 116.Panzergruppe arrived, the commander of the 326th, Maj William Barfield, had led the first evacuation to Libin, taking with him five ambulances and a number of medical staff. Luckily, during the 20-mile trip back to Herbaimont, Barfield’s convoy and several others following were forced to return to Libin after the bridge at Sprimont was found to have been destroyed. This small stroke of good fortune meant that over 100 medics were still available for duty and could be reabsorbed back into other medical facilities in Belgium and eventually Bastogne. By 0630hrs on December 20, it was officially confirmed that the bulk of the 326th Airborne Medical Co had been captured and the evacuation of future casualties would now be achieved through VIII Corps and the 429th Medical Collecting Co, who had recently relocated to a two-storey school building at Massul, near Molinfaing, 30 miles away toward Luxembourg.
One of the medics captured during the raid on the hospital was S/Sgt Ed Peterson, who recalls the events before and after the attack:
We had packed and loaded everything at Mourmelon in a very short space of time. The tents were drenched with water and had to be drained before being “squared” away, and by about 1700hrs on Monday, December 18, everything was done. We left at 1900hrs and had only traveled about 5 miles when our convoy dwindled to about six vehicles and then two. Stopping constantly to check directions only served to delay us even further. S/Sgt Robert “Corky” Corcoran suggested several times that we should return to Mourmelon and try again the following morning. However, S/Sgt Stanley Rutter, who was up front in the cab, kept insisting that our colored driver knew where he was going.
Around 0200hrs, we came across a vehicle which was being repaired, and the officer in charge told to us to stick around and follow him. The night was cold and we huddled together for warmth.
By dawn we caught up with our original convoy which was now parked bumper to bumper along the road. The early morning fog was now lifting, revealing a light dusting of snow, which had settled on the verges. Dozens of trucks and armored vehicles (some from the 28th ID) were heading toward the rear. Bastogne, we were told, was under fire so we stopped near a crossroads a few miles west of the town at a place called Herbaimont. Refugees from the north and east were running, riding, or walking as quickly as they were able and the look on their faces will be forever engraved on my memory.
S/Sgt John “Woody” Woodrich and I tried to discourage Capt Alvin Cohn from setting up our aid station in the field at Crossroad X but to no avail. Three tents were erected as a temporary measure, and by 1400hrs we were accepting our first casualties with another 50 on the way. Along with Corky, Woody, T/4 John Kalla, and T/5 Lark Meador, I was in the process of digging shelters close to the treatment tents but rain and other duties made the task impossible to complete before dark. At around 1700hrs we were able to get a cup of coffee and from then on everyone was flat out. Around 2100hrs, I went to look for some plasma with Corky and found Col Gold, Capt Ed Yeary, and Capt Jon Zumsteg standing beside a trailer deep in conversation.
The news wasn’t great, and the boss informed us that the Germans were trying to encircle Bastogne which wouldn’t be good for us. We returned to the tents and shortly afterwards heard the sound of heavy vehicles moving from north to south. For a moment we thought it was our own armor sent to protect us until a volley of .50cal [probably from the 801st] sent everyone diving to the ground. Bullets whistled through the canvas as more guns joined in the din. When the firing became more spasmodic, some of our officers shouted out in German that we were a hospital and totally unarmed. The Krauts paid no attention and continued with their attack. I was alongside Capt McKee, and can remember trying to keep a medical chest between me and the direction of fire. During one of the lulls, Maj Crandall asked me to help lower a patient on a nearby litter to the floor. As we did so,
T/4 James Query emerged from underneath the table, where much to our surprise he’d been hiding since the beginning of the attack.
More bullets ripped through the canvas above our heads. By now we could hear the enemy infantry outside calling to each other. Three or four trucks [part of the supply convoy ambushed at the crossroad] were now on fire as well as a German half-track, and although we had blacked out all the lights the whole place was lit up like a Christmas tree. The firing went on until around 2330hrs, at which time Col Gold was able to establish contact with a German officer, who accepted his surrender. We were told
to board a group of vehicles and be ready to move out in 30 minutes after which time the firing would resume. As the patients were being loaded, a couple of us ran over to the foxholes we’d been digging earlier and grabbed as much personal equipment as we could find.
Those who had already boarded the trucks managed to get seats. When I called for everyone to shuffle forward and make more room, Capt David Habif chewed me out for appearing overly enthusiastic but I was just trying to make space for myself, Corky, Kalla, Woody, and Meador. While we were loading, ammunition on the burning vehicles opposite began to explode. One of my chums, who’d been busy with the patients, ran over and I pulled him up into our vehicle as it was pulling away. As we headed north toward Houffalize, the trucks passed small groups of enemy troops along the road. At one point we stopped and some of the officers were offloaded along with a few enlisted men and sent to care for German wounded. Our convoy continued through the night and at dawn halted for the first time. It was only then that we really had a chance to think about what had just happened. The boys who were in the other tents exchanged accounts and by piecing things together we figured that quite a few patients and staff had been killed and injured during the attack.
