by Gerald Astor
The 1st Battalion of the 109th achieved more success, albeit at a cost of the operations officer, two company commanders, and a number of enlisted men before the opposition fire slackened. The poor visibility in the dense woods, which defied efforts to exert command and control, caused the battalion CO, Maj. James C. Ford, Jr., to growl, “If anyone from a private right on up to myself said that he knew where he was at any one time, he was a damned liar!” Nevertheless, stumbling, fumbling, and firing through the darkness, the infantrymen evicted the defenders from a critical position while capturing about 100 soldiers. The GIs dug in at the edge of the forest overlooking the key town of Huertgen.
As part of the offensive, the 1st Battalion of the 110th Infantry was assigned to guard the left or northern flank of the 112th as it struck out toward Schmidt. In the ranks of the 110th’s Company B, Jerry Alexis and Ed Uzemack were among the replacements who had reached the scene the night before the unit would jump off.
Uzemack recalled, “As we moved out on some prearranged schedule, I soon got into the habit of watching for snipers in the treetops, as did the combat veterans guiding us. At one point I slipped on the wet ground and fell to my knees. I felt somebody reach under my arm to help me up and heard him ask, ‘Are you all right, soldier?’ As I turned to answer, I saw a general’s stars on the man’s helmet and was amazed to see the cigar in his mouth as he grinned. He was Gen. Norman Cota, the division commander. Later I would see him in combat areas several times.”
On 3 November, the 3d Battalion of the 112th, in coordination with the armor of Company A, 707th Tank Battalion, would make a daylight assault on Schmidt. With the temperature hovering around the freezing mark, the first Americans walked through the wreckage of Vossenack, southeast toward Kommerscheidt and the final objective. Ray Fleig reported the weather as “typical of a late fall day, with a heavy mist hanging over the forest, and a cold, drizzling rain added to the discomfort of the troops. The spongy soil was saturated; the bomb craters and shell holes were pools of water; mud clung to the leggings covering shoes [there was a critical absence of overshoes in the 28th Division]. Tank tracks and suspension systems were choked with the viscous mire.”
The frigid Kall River posed a natural obstacle, but the GIs hauled themselves up the steep east bank by grabbing at the trees along the narrow stream’s edge. At Kommerscheidt, the tank fire from beyond the Kall dispersed any real resistance and a handful of Germans surrendered. The soldiers were pleasantly surprised by the lack of significant enemy forces a mile farther south in Schmidt, and by nightfall the battalion held the town. The 1st Battalion, under orders to reinforce its brethren in Schmidt, had moved out of Germeter around noon, but the regimental commander, Lt. Col. Carl Petersen, halted the troops at Kommerscheidt, apparently fearing he might lose both of his outfits if the Germans threw a major counterattack at Schmidt.
At Dutch Cota’s command post in the town of Rott, though the staff knew this was only the opening round, the mood was celebratory. Unit leaders sent messages that stressed successes without accurately reporting the precarious states of their positions and their troops. Corps and other division leaders proffered congratulations to the 28th Division boss, whose assistant bragged that the offensive to this point had been “extremely successful.”
The reports to Hodges continued to augur well. For the day, Sylvan wrote, “The 28th Division this morning resumed the attack with the 109th and the 112th Infantry on the offensive with heavy attacks. The enemy artillery and mortar fire [made] it difficult for our troops to approach and place demolition charges for pillboxes with considerable small arms fire. Barbed wire in eight foot concertina rolls. 3d Bn. 112th to the outskirts of Schmidt at 4 o’clock after advancing about 5,000 yards. The bn was followed by the 1st Bn. about a mile southwest of Schmidt. The 2d Bn. continued toward its objective, Vossenack. All buildings there were destroyed by our artillery, but the basements were fortified and led to hand-to-hand fighting to clear out the enemy of this point. The Gen. is extremely satisfied tonight with the progress made.”
Although the brass shone with elation, the major concerns for the 3d Battalion of the 112th were the lack of an adequate supply route and the absence of tanks. Engineers deemed passable a stone bridge over the Kall and narrow muddy trail through the Kall River valley, which was barely able to accommodate a wagon, much less a thirty-two-ton tank. During the afternoon of 3 November, the A Company tanks attempted to reinforce the foot soldiers in Schmidt. Captain Bruce Hostrup, the company commander, led the column forward until he reached a narrow passage with rock outcroppings on one side and a gorge on the other. The side of the cart path crumbled under the weight of his tank, and Hostrup narrowly avoided being pitched into the canyon.
The 20th Engineer Combat Battalion, after being held up by interdicting enemy artillery, arrived with mine detectors but no heavy equipment for widening and solidifying the trail. It was not until early on the morning of 4 November that a bulldozer started to move earth, and it soon broke down. The engineers continued to labor with picks and shovels. The enemy steadily showered the 707th’s vehicles with mortars and artillery rounds that wrecked periscope heads, antennas, headlights, and any personal equipment strapped outside. Meanwhile, the GIs in Schmidt battened down for the night without orders for reconnaissance patrols to discover any German activity, although the enemy habitually counterattacked whenever it lost any ground. Lookouts thought they discerned movement at dusk but no one thought to investigate. Under cover of night, German strategists shifted units into an array designed to obliterate the American advance.
A convoy of three M29 Weasels, small vehicles on tracks, navigated the pathway to Schmidt bearing ammunition, rations, and antitank mines. But the tired GIs, instead of burying them, simply spread them across the road without any camouflage. Before daylight broke, with only a partial reconstruction of the pathway, the Company A tanks began to move forward, with Ray Fleig at the head of his 1st Platoon. As he sought to negotiate one of the more narrow spots, Fleig said a Teller mine blew off his M4’s track. Although no one was injured, the disabled vehicle totally blocked the trail. Some suggest that Fleig’s tank did not strike a mine, but because of the darkness and with no one out front to guide the driver, he slipped off the trail. The cause of the breakdown, however, was far less significant than the obstacle created.
Staff Sergeant Anthony Spooner, commander of the following tank, improvised with cables attached to Fleig’s tank, to maneuver around the blockage. Although the remainder of the platoon followed suit, Fleig boarded Spooner’s Sherman with his precious command radio and instructed Spooner to bring the other tanks after him for a meeting in Kommerscheidt. When Fleig reached the stone bridge, the lieutenant climbed out and guided the tank across using a blackout flashlight.
The trail followed a series of hairpin turns, a difficulty exacerbated by the mechanisms of an M4. Drivers steered by applying brake pressure to one track while the opposite track continued to churn. The operation requires manipulation of a pair of three-foot-long, lateral levers extending between the driver’s toes. Without any power boosters, the technique relied on sheer muscle strength, particularly in low gear at low speeds.
Sunrise signaled the dawn of disaster. German shells crashed into Schmidt, walking back and forth through the town for perhaps thirty minutes. The intense barrage hammered at the besieged GIs from almost every direction. Those hunkered down along the perimeter spotted enemy soldiers assembling for an attack. The Americans in Schmidt called for their own artillery, but, mysteriously, there was no response.
German infantry accompanied by tanks began to strike from a number of areas. The armor moved along the road on which the Americans had placed antitank mines. But the panzers easily detoured around the visible explosives. The tanks, which shrugged off hits from bazookas, fired rounds point-blank into foxholes with devastating results.
When a machine gun opened up on the outskirts of the town, SSgt. Frank Ripperdam led a couple of men against the emplacement. As th
ey wriggled near the gun, they were astonished to see five enemy soldiers jump up, yelling in English, “Don’t shoot.” Ripperdam and the others held their fire and stood, expecting a full surrender. But the quintet suddenly leaped back to their gun and resumed banging away. Ripperdam hit the ground and a GI launched a rifle grenade. Two of the crew were wounded but the gun continued to fire. A soldier tried to sneak to the side with his rifle but he was cut down. The Americans withdrew and so did their antagonists.
American artillery now sought to turn the tide with furious concentrations. Nevertheless, the situation deteriorated rapidly. The Germans were coming from all sides except along the Kommerscheidt-Vossenack route to the northwest. Driven from the perimeter foxholes, the embattled Americans first fell back to refuge in buildings. As the torrent of shot and shell swept over the area, they abandoned their posts and fled, sometimes in their bewilderment heading deeper into enemy territory. Flight became the only imperative. Ray Fleig wrote, “Many historians and self-appointed experts have written of this battle, and they universally deride the conduct of the American infantrymen, but they were not there. A wool shirt and a field jacket are no defense against tank cannon [at least ten Mark IV behemoths led the Germans] and machine guns or 15.0 cm mortars, and no sane man will confront these fearsome weapons with his M1 rifle.”
As the rout deepened, the dead and even the wounded were left behind. By 10 A.M., the soldiers, largely on their own, had abandoned Schmidt. Battalion headquarters advised company headquarters that it was disconnecting the switchboard and all should withdraw. Shortly after noon, in recognition of the abandonment of Schmidt, the Air Corps dispatched a squadron of P-47s, the dreaded Jabos to strike the usurpers.
A frantic effort to rescue those in trouble and halt the debacle gripped the 28th Division. Lieutenant Colonel Albert Flood, commander of the men who had been trapped in Schmidt, sent an urgent message to the aid station, directing it to move forward from Germeter to Vossenack to receive the influx of casualties. In an underground log bunker beside the Kall River, the medical personnel directed by an administrative officer, 2d Lt. Alfred J. Muglia, set up shop, dispatching litter bearers to scour the area for wounded. Captain Michael DeMarco tended the men there, while Capt. Paschal A. Linguiti, another battalion surgeon, treated casualties in a Vossenack house converted into an aid station.
To repel the German armor, elements of the 893d Tank Destroyer Battalion moved into Vossenack shortly before noon. Almost immediately, all four TDs from the 1st Platoon of Company B had been hit. Company A of the 20th Engineers, working to improve the supply route, also came under heavy fire. They threw aside their shovels, pick axes, and mine detectors and picked up M1s to defend themselves. Several perished as mortars and artillery blasted their area. In the dark of night, packs of German infantrymen moved by, only a few feet from the engineers, who felt themselves too far outnumbered to confront the enemy.
An attempt to furnish ammunition to those trying to make a stand against the onslaught was blocked when the same three Weasels that had made the journey to Schmidt the night before, then returned to Germeter with wounded, were frustrated by Fleig’s detracked tank blocking the route.
That obstacle loomed larger when more armor from the 707th tried to make their way toward Schmidt. Company A’s 2d Platoon, reduced to a trio of Shermans and ignorant of the winch method of safely bypassing Fleig’s abandoned tank, sought to squeeze past. The lead tank slipped over the edge of the incline, and the slippery slope prevented it from regaining the road. When the crew dismounted to investigate, enemy shells killed the tank commander and an officer riding with him. The surviving armor negotiated this section but came a cropper at another juncture. The score for the 707th showed Fleig in one tank at Kommerscheidt with two more from his platoon about to join him, while five disabled Shermans littered the trail behind.
Fleig checked in with Maj. Robert Hazlett, CO of the 1st Battalion in Kommerscheidt, who ordered him to “Get out there and stop those tanks.” Nearby infantrymen advised Fleig that there were “lots of Germans with tanks over that hill.”
The trio of Shermans led by Fleig advanced toward the enemy. As they crested a slight rise, the M4s opened fire. Fleig believed his gunner accounted for two of the attackers while one of his associates knocked out a third with a high explosive shell that slammed into the breech of a 75mm cannon.
On the outskirts of Kommerscheidt, the tank commander saw a German Mark IV Panther using an orchard to screen its movement. He called instructions on the range and location to the gunner. Fleig says he saw “a bright splash of light on the turret of the Mark IV.” He called for another round. Another fiery eruption on the Mark IV signified a hit. Two crewman leaped from the tank.
Fleig realized his gunner was using high explosive shells rather than armor piercing (AP). The thick skin of the Panther protected it, and the Germans who abandoned the tank were not hurt but only frightened. Fleig’s crew scrambled to retrieve their armor-piercing shells stowed on a sponson rack on the exterior of the Sherman. The Germans seized the time to reenter their Mark IV and throw a round at him, but they missed. The Americans’ first round of AP sliced the enemy gun barrel. Three more shells then pierced the thinner side of the Panther’s hull, setting the tank ablaze and killing all of its crew.
Two other panzers poked toward the GIs trying to mount a defense. P-47s suddenly dove down, and two bombs from one halted the lead tank. Sergeant Tony Kudiak then delivered the coup de grâce with a bazooka. The rocket struck the Panther in its vulnerable side and ignited a fire. In the German positions in Kommerscheidt, the sustained hammering of mortars and small arms and almost incessant U.S. artillery exacted a fearsome toll. Temporarily, the counterattack by the Germans halted. However, the worsening weather would limit the ability of the Air Corps to help.
Although the main thrust of the 28th Division by the 112th Regiment had temporarily achieved its objective, it had been hurled back. On 3 November, the 109th Regiment on the left flank expected to begin a limited attack. But at 0730, the Germans interrupted the schedule when their attack sought to drive the 1st Battalion from its positions. Lieutenant Charles E. Porter, the S-2, said, “The trees in this place were so thick that it was impossible to see more than thirty yards in any one direction. In many places they were not over four feet apart. The artillery had been knocking the tops out of them, and they were piling up and making it more difficult to move and to see any distance from the positions. This attack had been preceded by a ten-minute artillery preparation and we lost some men from … tree bursts. These tree bursts were the worst thing we had to contend with. In this morning attack the machine guns did not open fire until the Germans were right on top of them. By this waiting they killed many more than usual, as the Germans were unable to see our positions and walked right into the face of the guns. Some fell within six feet of the position and the gun crew had to remove them to continue firing. The forward observer brought down the artillery about 100 yards in front of the positions and the attack was broken up.” The troops claimed to have captured about 100 men, although the assault overran the 1st Battalion observation post, killing or seizing a number of Americans.
The 3d Battalion, now led by Howard Topping, had been about to start a move east toward the Huertgen-Germeter road when a regimental radio order directed the outfit to “continue the attack to the west.” The language puzzled Topping, but because the directive passed through the tight security of the command radio net, he obeyed, particularly because the battalion heard the sounds of battle in the west.
The outfit fought its way toward the other battalion, encountering substantial pockets of Germans. Bill Peña recalled the trek through the poorly charted forest. “I had the map of the area, and I was in charge of leading the column to the position of the 1st Battalion, marked on the map as somewhere in the forest southwest of Huertgen. At the start I recognized some landmarks.”
The column passed through the foxholes being dug by F Company of the 2d Ba
ttalion. “Once we left F Company’s area, we were in unknown territory. The character of the forest was changing. There was more underbrush, shorter views—at times we were hemmed in to a trail with walls of underbrush. [Communications Sergeant Dallas] Elwood chose one of these times to test his backpack radio in a full voice. ‘This is Item. This is Item. Do you hear me? Over.’ If we were looking for an ambush, this was one way of inviting it. And then, ‘This is Item. I hear you loud and clear. I hear you loud and clear. Over and out.’
“This was too much! I turned to Elwood and said in a low tone that if he wanted to test that damn radio again, he’d have to go toward the rear of the column.
“By now, one tree, one bush looked like any other. Looking for the green moss on the north side of tree trunks was futile in this thick forest. I didn’t think we were lost yet, I told [company commander Bruce] Paul. I thought we were going generally in the right direction, but it had gotten more difficult to tell on the map where we were. Major Topping was right up there with us, behind the 1st Platoon. From time to time he’d come up, we’d pause, and I’d point out our approximate location on the map. But we had only the approximate location. Somehow we’d have to find it without attracting the enemy’s attention. We were not deployed for action.
“As it turned out, the Germans themselves led us to the ‘lost battalion.’ We heard the fire of German burp guns nearby to our right and then the answering rifle shots from the 1st Battalion. The light intensity of the fire indicated that only a small German patrol was involved.” They had reached their objective and dug in. The regimental commander later demanded of Topping why he had abandoned his originally assigned mission. When the latter mentioned the radioed order, his superior denied ever sending such a message. No one ever determined whether the radioman garbled the directive or who sent it.
Ironically, with the roles of attacker and defender reversed, the GIs in this sector temporarily enjoyed an advantage. Unfortunately, as in other instances during the Huertgen campaign, First Army leaders and the corps commanders never realized the import of such events, and the futile life-consuming strategy continued unaltered.
