by Ian Gardner
At 0240hrs on February 4, 22 men from F Co, led by 2nd Lt Ben Stapelfeld, crossed the Moder and made their way to Bitschhoffen. The mission was ordered at the last minute, leaving Ben no time to plan or prepare. Before re-crossing the river opposite Pfaffenhoffen, Stapelfeld and his men were ambushed by enemy machine-gun and mortar fire. During the chaotic firefight, Sgt Bill Green was killed and six others wounded. For the remainder of the night I Co bracketed the area with 60mm mortar fire. Subsequently it was decided that all future missions were to be given two days to prepare and executed with full mortar and artillery support.
Haguenau, the southwest front – “no place for heroes”
The following morning orders were received by 1st and 3rd battalions that they were to be relieved by the 409th IR. During the early hours both battalions were pulled out and sent 9 miles east along the river to Haguenau. Their new job would be to assist MajGen Edward H. Brooks’ VI Corps, who were going on the offensive north of Strasbourg.
Situated between Schweighouse-sur-Moder and Bischwiller, 25 miles from Strasbourg, Haguenau was and still is one of the largest towns in the region of Bas-Rhin. Straddling the meandering Moder, Haguenau had become a thriving industrial town with a wartime population of around 18,000 people, although most had fled by February 1945. From here the Moder twists and turns for around 10 miles in an easterly direction through Drusenheim, before filtering into the mighty river Rhine marking the border with Germany.
Along with its vitally important road network, Haguenau also boasted a major railway terminus and military airfield, located nearby at Kaltenhouse, which had been captured by the Allies in December, 1944. Over on the enemy-held bank, the massive Haguenau Forest swallowed the northern boundaries of the town, while further north the land rose steeply to mark the beginning of the Vosges du Nord mountain range.
After the earlier poor patrol performances, the 506th made sure that each battalion now had at least three five-man patrols on 24-hour standby and one specified platoon trained to operate independently as a large-scale raiding party.
By February 5, 1st Bn had been moved back to Bossendorf, while 1 mile further northwest, 3rd Bn reoccupied Lixhausen. At 1330hrs, 2nd Bn arrived and a temporary forward CP was established with the 313th IR (45th ID) at Harthausen, until Col Sink could establish his own HQ at Château Walk. The château was located on the southern side of Haguenau along Rue Député Hallez and had been a former German Youth camp. Close to the château was a heavily booby-trapped area of woodland known as the Weitbruch Forest, where the engineers were still working hard to clear the sector of “Schu mines.” These small, wooden-framed, antipersonnel devices were undetectable and had recently caused several serious civilian and military casualties.
At 2200hrs, the 506th took over the MLR from the 313th IR with 1/506 on the left and 2/506 to the right. In addition to the previous attachments the regiment was assigned A Co and 1 Ptn from D Co 47th Tank Bn. Over the next five days the 506th remained in defense of Haguenau, conducting vigorous patrolling, both combat and recon, across the Moder while waiting for replacements.
Every rifle company underwent drastic changes to its structure and manpower as the new blood began to arrive at Château Walk. Manny Barrios wound up with a number of green replacements and instructions to provide security for I Co’s left flank. Barrios and his squad moved into a building on the edge of town close to the river, which was now in full flood and therefore appeared much wider. Manny recalls:
Here the edge of the river was quite shallow and it was possible to wade out some distance before it deepened and dropped away. I inherited a pair of binoculars and spent most of the time watching the opposite bank. There were no factories or bridges where we were, just countryside scattered with a few single-storey buildings. During the day we would usually see one or two enemy soldiers moving around. A radio operator would come to our OP for 2 hours every day to report my observations, including troop movements and concentrations. I don’t think we ever left that position because battalion would send our rations up every now and then by runner. Because of this, I instructed my “kids” how to scavenge anything and everything that could be cooked and eaten.
At the center of town, the river was overlooked on both sides by a number of tall, abandoned factory buildings. Many ideas were tested in an attempt to launch explosive devices across the river, such as grenades and 60mm mortar rounds. The most successful was created by Sgt Walter Kyle from G Co. With great ingenuity Kyle adapted the standard tail fin of a rifle grenade to screw into the base of a 60mm mortar shell, allowing it to be fired from an M1 rifle.
But George McMillan, who had just returned to I Co from Pathfinder duty, thought he had a better way. George built a catapult from shredded car inner tubes and attempted to launch a live grenade across the river. His first and only attempt failed in spectacular fashion as the primed grenade slipped from McMillan’s grasp and rolled backwards, sending his colleagues scattering in all directions!
Bob Webb describes the river patrols:
One or two bridges were still partially intact. Across from our positions was a large wine factory, where we and the Germans would both patrol. For the most part if they were there we’d leave them alone and they would do the same for us – although we did our best to procure as many cases of delicious red and white wine as we could. HQ Co was billeted in a lovely bungalow-style house that had a china cabinet with over 200 Champagne glasses made from the finest crystal I’d ever seen. The owners also had a fantastic cast-iron Aga stove in the kitchen so we always had a hot brew on the go.
By this time I think we all realized the war was virtually over and just wanted to stay alive to see the end. One of the problems we faced was getting the proper intelligence back from our five-man patrols. Once across the river they were supposed to observe all the usual things, such as troop movements and activity around road junctions, etc., and then radio back the information to Battalion HQ. We had several communication cables running across the bed of the river for radio guys like myself to connect into.
3rd Bn were initially placed in reserve around Château Walk, where they followed a limited schedule, including training films and critiques on Holland and Bastogne. Harley Dingman accepted a new job offer from Andy Anderson to join him on the battalion staff as his sergeant major.
Dingman was somewhat surprised by his new posting to middle management and recalls, “The enlisted men called me ‘Sir’ and the officers addressed me as ‘Mister.’ I began to work closely with Anderson, specializing in procurement of billets and vehicles. Capt Anderson gave me a small team, which included Pvt Chester Molawa. Molawa had been in the army for over three years and was never promoted due to his previous criminal record. In early 1941, Molawa was caught driving a getaway car in a failed bank robbery. Instead of going to jail, the judge gave him the option of joining the regular army. Eventually, Molawa came to HQ Co as a replacement. Despite his somewhat dodgy background, Chester was a faithful and trustworthy member of the team and became my orderly.”
T/4 Dave Phillips (regimental S3) was asked to interview members of G Co: “My old boss John Senior was now their first sergeant and really showed me a good time. The abandoned winery a couple of hundred yards away to the northeast kept us pleasantly intoxicated. The Kaiser family occupied part of the building now being used by G Co as their HQ. Paul Kaiser was an artist in his thirties and very intelligent. Being a talented artist himself, 1st Lt Frank Rowe seemed to get on well with Paul, who also spoke pretty good English.” Like Harley Dingman, Paul was also fluent in Latin. Harley had studied the subject at college and spent most of his down time at Paul’s home practicing and discussing the subject.
On February 12, the 101st area was reorganized and each regiment tasked to defend a sector with a reinforced battalion. At 1800hrs, 1st Bn moved out to Hochstett, 10 miles further southwest, where they were placed in divisional reserve. At the same time H Co were attached to 2nd Bn and took over a sector on the left flank. “Patr
ol activity was reinstituted, although not with the frequency and intensity of the Ardennes,” recalls Hank DiCarlo. “Almost every patrol we sent out returned with at least two prisoners. The German troops here simply weren’t the same caliber as those we’d encountered at Foy.” Light discipline was still paramount, especially at night where any breach would be met by a substantial enemy artillery or mortar barrage.
Sgt Audrey Lewallen returned to active duty with the machine-gun platoon after being injured in early October during the battle for Opheusden, as Jim Melhus woefully reflects:
I remember this moment vividly as if it were yesterday. We had just returned to the CP after a failed mission across the river and went upstairs to collect our supplies that had been spread out on a large table. As I walked into the room, Lewallen was sitting on the floor and accidentally pointed a pistol at me while trying to eject a round from the chamber. I don’t think that there was any malice involved, just negligence. For some reason he managed to pull the trigger and the bullet went through my right forearm, entering about 3in above the wrist (completely severing the radial bone) and into the floor, narrowly missing another guy’s foot. The medics were called and gave me something for the pain before I was rushed away to a nearby field hospital. The first doctor I saw wanted to amputate but was overruled by a major who showed him an alternative procedure, which undoubtedly saved my arm. I had several things stolen during this period, like a beautiful diamond and ruby ring purchased in Paris. Plus, would you believe, my jump boots and a petite .25cal automatic pistol. At least the vultures left my old wristwatch – which was kind of ironic after nearly losing the arm that I wore it on.
One night Bob Webb went down to the river to assist a five-man recon patrol that was being led by a brand-new replacement officer:
The idea as per standard operating procedure was to keep total radio silence until the men had deployed onto the northern bank. I was monitoring the network when the lieutenant leading the incursion accidentally placed his hand on the “talk switch.” We could hear every word that he said. This went on for a few minutes until he whispered, “I think they’ve found us; what on earth are we gonna do now?”
By this time, Col Sink had arrived and soon became frustrated by the lieutenant’s incompetence. Finally, one of the guys on the patrol took control of the radio while another brought the officer back in the boat. Col Sink said he wanted another group ready to go within 10 minutes … then ordered one of the standby squads to deploy, and I foolishly decided to volunteer as their radio operator. Changing into a sweater and knitted cap, my face blackened, pistol loaded and safety catch on, I stuck some surgical tape over my dog tags before our equipment was checked for noise discipline.
We crossed the river about 40 minutes before first light and upon reaching the northern bank had a quick look around for the three missing men but there was no sign of them. As it was getting light, the sergeant in charge decided to brazenly move further inland. As the sun came up we took cover in a barn not far from the road that the patrol we’d replaced was supposed to have been observing. Although we had good cover it was decided to move closer to the highway and go to ground in an abandoned farmhouse.
I was able to climb up into the roof space, which gave me a commanding view across the surrounding area. As the day wore on we saw nothing. That evening the sergeant decided to take his men in search of a better OP while I stayed behind with the radio and kept watch. Not long afterwards, I heard firing and about 90 minutes later one of the guys returned and told me to head back to the first barn. I don’t know what happened to the rest of the patrol, but the guy who spoke to me did eventually make it back to our lines. After reporting the situation over the radio I was told to stay put and relay information for another 24 hours. That was fine, but I didn’t really have enough food or water and reasoned that a nearby stream would help see me through. Forty-eight hours later, I was finally instructed to pull back to the river Moder under cover of darkness where a soldier in a rubber dingy was waiting for me. After being debriefed it was clear that the area I’d been watching was no longer a threat and the regiment could now concentrate on another sector.
Not long after the patrol, I became ill with acute diarrhea and sickness. Initially our medics thought it might be stomach ulcers and after a brief rest sent me back to duty. Over the following two weeks my condition continued to deteriorate, and by the end of the month I was sent to the UK for specialist treatment. After what seemed like dozens of tests, the 53rd General Hospital in Malvern diagnosed me with a virulent form of intestinal parasite usually only found in goats, which I’d probably picked up from drinking the stream water while on that last patrol.
Webb spent the next three months in hospital, during which time he lost and regained nearly 40lb before finally returning to duty in June.
After being posted to G Co at Château Walk, Pvt Ira Morehart’s first experience of war was not one to be proud of. One of the members of his new squad, Pvt James Williams, was a serious cause for concern. Williams had been a sergeant until being demoted for dereliction of duty during the battle for Bastogne. Morehart and Williams were part of a five-man security patrol on the southern bank of the river Moder when they walked into a farmyard. Williams immediately spotted a young woman and immediately began to pester her for sex. As she started to scream her husband arrived and proceeded to beat Williams into submission. Although Williams was dragged away by Ira and the others, he forced them to return the following morning. Perhaps looking for revenge in the ensuing fracas, Williams shot and killed the farmer before raping his wife. Ira and the other team members were bullied into silence after Williams threatened to kill anyone who breathed a single word about what had happened here. The incident was an ignoble stain on the hitherto untarnished war record of a fine and proud unit. Jim Martin believes that after the war, James Williams served a long jail term in Hamilton Prison, Indiana, after being convicted of several armed robberies, and died shortly after being released in the 1980s.
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Sometime around the second week of February, spring came early with three days of clear weather and beautiful sunshine. The sudden change was not just an opportunity to sunbathe but also meant better visibility and therefore increased patrolling, which brought its own risks.
On the evening of February 15, 1st Lt Lawrence Fitzpatrick and several of his soldiers from 3 Ptn G Co were preparing to cross the river via a sector controlled by lieutenants Oswald and Stapelfeld from F Co. After a short briefing by Ben Stapelfeld, Fitzpatrick used the opportunity to observe one of the factories opposite what Ben said was a regular enemy OP. Further to the right was a timber merchants and cemetery. Over on the left, Fitzpatrick could see a row of houses, but at the time these were believed to be unoccupied. Sometime after midnight, as the lieutenant was leading his men across the Moder, he was killed instantly by a burst of enemy machine-gun fire, which most likely came from one of the “abandoned” houses opposite. The mission was quickly aborted, and under cover of automatic fire from F Co, the men frantically paddled back to safety.
At 0100hrs on the 18th, another patrol crossed the Moder. Despite suffering four casualties from Schu mines and enemy mortar fire, the group brought back three prisoners from Infanterie-Regiment 103 (47.Volksgrenadier-Division) and Pionier-Batallion 257, 257.Infanterie-Division. The following afternoon 1/506 moved from Hochstett to Château Walk. Two hours later B Co was attached to 3rd Bn, who were now assigned to take over the MLR from 2/506. Over the next few days, elements of the 143rd ID began to arrive in preparation to relieve the regiment.
By February 23, the 506th started moving out by road to a rear assembly area near Saverne, 50 miles southwest of Haguenau. Col Sink established his CP a couple of miles to the southwest at Marmoutier alongside 2nd Bn, while 1st Bn was sent southwest to Haegen. 3rd Bn bivouacked between the two villages at Schwebwiller. Forty-eight hours later the regiment moved by truck to the railway station at Saverne. The floors of the French boxcars we
re layered in straw and provided a comfortable bonus for the troops during the 200-mile rail journey back to Mourmelon.
Before 3rd Bn departed from Schwebwiller, Harold Stedman returned: “I’d been in hospital for the last seven weeks and was hardly able to recognize anyone in I Co, except Manny Barrios, Richie Shinn (who had also just got out of hospital), and Pvt Harvey DeVries, whom we all thought had been killed back in October up on the island.” The constant combat in the intervening weeks had certainly taken a heavy toll on the battalion.
10
“Home alive in ’45”
Return to Mourmelon – February 26–April 2, 1945
When the division returned to Mourmelon in late February, most of Camp Châlons had been taken over by a field hospital. After recovering from yellow jaundice, 1st Lt Bill Wedeking found himself assigned to the advance party helping organize “Tent City” and area cleaning. “At the time I was still officially the machine-gun platoon leader but never really had a chance to get to know any of the new men. A few days later, I began to experience trouble with my hearing, which had been damaged by an explosion in Normandy. Once the problem was diagnosed, the divisional surgeon took me off jump status. After being downgraded and reclassified, I was sent to Le Havre to take command of a German POW camp, which was very disappointing.”
Medical and support staff were now occupying the permanent barracks that the 101st had so painstakingly repaired before leaving for Bastogne. “We were forced to live in a village of pyramidal tents,” recalls Hank DiCarlo. “Still, it certainly beat the life we’d lived in the Ardennes, and at least every tent had a stove.”
Around February 28, the battalion underwent several changes to the command structure. Capt Doughty transferred to Bn S3 and took over from the newly promoted Derwood Cann, who in turn was given command of G Co. After Bill Wedeking was posted to the 1486 Labor Support Co, 2nd Lt Lloyd Wills and Doc Dwyer took control of the light machine-gun platoon with staff sergeants Auguste Saperito and Darvin Lee as his section leaders along with gun sergeants Albert Duraso, Johnnie Prezas, Joe Mielcarek (who had previously escaped from the Germans with Marty Clark), Audrey Lewallen, Emmett McKeon, and several others.
