The M4A1 was shown next. It was essentially the same tank as the M4 but with an improved high-velocity 76mm gun and a different turret to accommodate it. This was a vast improvement over the M4, but the gun was still less powerful than the German KwK41. By the time we arrived in Normandy, between 10 and 15 percent of our tanks carried the 76mm, and thereafter almost all replacements were 76s.
From our experience in North Africa, it had been belatedly recognized that both the M4 and the M4A1 were inadequately protected. Thus, we had arranged with the British main ordnance depot at Warminster to modify all of our M4 tanks by putting one-inch armor patches over the three ammunition boxes and quarter-inch armor inside the sponsons and also underneath the turret. We also put an additional two-inch armor patch in front of the driver’s periscope and the assistant driver’s periscope on the front of the glacis plate. All the new tanks coming off the production line in the States already had this modification before they were shipped to England.
The next demonstration opened up a can of worms that placed rank and authority against knowledge and experience, and pitted the narrow interpretation of tactical doctrine against flexible response to meet new, changing conditions. A new heavy tank known as the M26 Pershing had just been developed and was ready for production. There was no working model of this tank in England at the time, but films of it were shown. The tank had been thoroughly tested and approved by both the ordnance and armored forces boards. The Tank Automotive Center in Detroit was prepared to go into full production immediately upon receipt of a go-ahead from Supreme Headquarters, Allied Expeditionary Force (SHAEF). Because of the urgency of this project, a high priority had been granted by the War Production Board to proceed immediately, and schedules had been prepared that would allow these tanks to be delivered in time for the invasion.
The M26 was the first totally new main battle tank that we had. Instead of old hulls modified bit by bit but still maintaining the old disadvantages, the M26 was brand new from the ground up. It weighed forty-seven and a half tons and had four inches of armor at forty-five degrees on the glacis plate. The sides had about two inches of armor, and the turret had six inches in front plus a five-inch mantlet. It had a .30-caliber coaxial machine gun in the turret and a .50-caliber ring mount on top. The main armament was a ground-mount 90mm M3 gun with a muzzle velocity of 2,850 feet per second, a muzzle brake, and a special recoil mechanism for mounting in a tank. The tank had a 550-horsepower engine and a hydramatic transmission. The suspension system was a brand-new torsion bar Christy with double bogey wheels on each arm and a wide track. This wider track gave the tank about half the ground bearing pressure of the old M4 and made it comparable to the German tanks in negotiating soft, muddy terrain.
The power ratio of the M26 was approximately 12 horsepower per ton compared to 10 horsepower per ton on the M4; this made the M26 faster and more agile over rough terrain and steep inclines. Its longer track length enabled it to span wider ditches than the M4. In every way it was far superior to the M4. Even though its muzzle velocity was less than that of the German Mark V Panther or the German Mark VI King Tiger, it was still by far the best tank we had at the time.
The M26 tank was greeted enthusiastically by the field officers and combat commanders who had actually fought against the Germans in North Africa. Brigadier General Maurice Rose, who commanded CCA of the 2d Armored Division in Sicily and had encountered the German Mark VI Tiger tank for the first time, felt strongly that we should have the M26 as soon as possible.
However, Lt. Gen. George Patton, who had commanded American troops in North Africa and Sicily and was the highest-ranking armored commander in the European theater, was not enthusiastic about the M26. Undoubtedly one of the best-informed officers on military history in the entire U.S. Army and a stickler for adhering rigidly to regulations, Patton interpreted the Armored Force Doctrine to a T and cited it as his reason for not favoring the M26. He said that the tanks of an armored division were not supposed to fight other tanks but bypass them if possible and attack enemy objectives to the rear. (According to the doctrine, the tank forces should be divided into two groups. The GHQ tank battalions were supposed to be heavy tanks attached to the infantry divisions and would be used to make breakthroughs and penetrate fortified lines. The armored divisions were supposed to penetrate deep behind the enemy lines, destroying enemy artillery and disrupting the enemy reserves and supplies.) Patton felt that because the M4 tank was lighter and required less fuel than the M26, it would be faster and more agile and was better equipped to perform the mission of the armored divisions.
Patton’s assumption that the M4 was lighter and would require less fuel was correct, but he did not realize that the M26 had a higher horsepower ratio, was much more agile, and had superior armor and firepower. Apparently, he did not put much faith in the GHQ tank battalions’ ability to work with infantry and make the initial penetrations. This lack of faith was well founded; the GHQ tank battalions had never been provided with a heavy tank to perform their mission properly, and the infantry and the tank battalions had never been trained to work together.
It was extremely difficult to argue with Patton, because he was strong, determined, and highly opinionated. He had a long and distinguished career as a professional soldier. He led the American tank corps in World War I, reportedly riding into battle on the front of a light tank. He later commanded the 2d Armored Division during its formative years and built it into a first-class organization. He developed an excellent group of officers who followed him with an almost cultlike dedication. The 3d Armored Division took its initial officer cadre from the 2d Armored Division, and many of the officers who had served under Patton brought with them the same zeal for excellence and military efficiency. Patton’s commands in North Africa and Sicily had made him the highest-ranking American officer to command major armored combat operations.
In an excellent argument that the M26 heavy tank should be used, General Rose and other field commanders resisted the higher-ranking Patton. The experiences in North Africa at Kasserine Pass and also in Sicily had convinced them of the superiority of German armor and the need for a heavy tank to offset it. However, Patton persisted in his view; he was not above a hassle. He insisted that we should downgrade the M26 heavy tank and concentrate on the M4.
Patton’s rank and authority overwhelmed the resistance of the more experienced commanders, and the decision was made to concur with Patton’s view. SHAEF immediately notified Washington to deemphasize production of the M26 heavy tank and concentrate instead on the M4 medium tank. This turned out to be one of the most disastrous decisions of World War II, and its effect on the upcoming battle for Western Europe was catastrophic.
Tree Snipers
By midmorning on July 9, more damaged tanks had come in. Just as the maintenance crews were starting work on them, there was a sudden crack , then a ping, then a whirring noise. Everybody hit the ground; it didn’t take any second guessing to realize that we had come under sniper fire. Command Combat A had already had a number of casualties from sniper fire, and we knew that these marksmen were usually left behind to slow us down.
Although the tank maintenance mechanics had been issued carbines, the crews had placed most of them in the trucks while they were repairing the tanks. As soon as some of the men got up and tried to run to the trucks to secure their weapons, the sniper fire started again. It was finally determined that the sniper was in a tree across the road, although nobody could spot exactly where he was. The tall pines in Normandy were festooned with large bunches of mistletoe, which grew as a natural parasite. There were so many trees and so many bunches of mistletoe that it was difficult to find the snipers who hid there.
Just as the next shot rang out, a half-track from the 36th Armored Infantry came down the road headed toward the Saint Jean de Daye–Le Dézert highway. The infantryman on the .50-caliber ring mount on the half-track saw the maintenance crew on the ground yelling and pointing across the road, and he knew immediately
what was happening. He swung the .50-caliber around and let go with a short burst. The top of the tree exploded as the limb, the mistletoe, and the sniper plummeted to the ground. The half-track never stopped.
This ended the sniper fire for the time being, and the crew started back to work. But sporadic sniper fire continued throughout the rest of the day. The only time it subsided was when infantry reserves would approach. We never got used to the fire; we just had to work around it as best we could.
By the middle of the afternoon, the VCP was rapidly filling with more tanks and other armored vehicles. Although a truck or Jeep would be brought in occasionally, the combat vehicles, particularly the medium tanks, got first priority. We expanded the VCP into the adjacent field to accommodate the increased volume.
In the meantime, B Company of the maintenance battalion, which was attached to CCB, had moved into an area about half a mile across the river and just to the south of Airel. There was a large field next to the VCP, and Major Dick Johnson told me he would like B Company to move there.
As I started down the road in my Jeep, I reflected on the past twenty-four hours. Up to this time, I had been too busy to think. Your mind tends to boggle after a constant series of shocks and trauma, and apparently it reaches a different psychological level. This tends to neutralize all sensations and the mind tends to become inert to further shocks. Thoughts begin to develop in multiple levels with the past, present, and future. The future tends to go away first, and, as the past diminishes, the present becomes a continuum of events moment by moment. I decided that this was nature’s way of reducing anxiety and worry and providing a safety valve for maintaining psychological balance. I realized how lucky I was compared to the infantrymen, tankers, artillerymen, and combat engineers, who were constantly exposed to much greater shocks over longer periods of time, and my heart went out to them.
I remembered an observation made by a soldier in the 2d Armored Division who had fought the Germans in North Africa. He said that the difference between the Americans, who had been in combat only a short time, and the British, who had been there for two years, was that the Americans fought today so they could go home tomorrow, and the British fought today and hoped and prayed that they would be alive to fight again tomorrow. I supposed that all soldiers developed this attitude if they survived long enough.
By now the engineers had spanned the gap in the bridge with a treadway to accommodate wheeled vehicles. As I crossed the bridge, I encountered another column of infantrymen coming up single file on either side of the road. From their clean uniforms and neatly shaven faces, I could tell that these young men were going into combat for the first time. There was a combination of excitement and strain on their faces, and I wondered what they were thinking about.
A man marching into combat, knowing full well that his chances of survival are extremely limited, would seem to require an inner strength based on faith in his own ultimate purpose. Although he is terrified, he develops the courage to cope with this terror and is able to function, and through this functioning he is able to survive. I remember reading somewhere, “Courage is fear that has said its prayers.”
After crossing the bridge, we proceeded down the road about half a mile, turned right on a small country road, and climbed to the top of the hill where B Company was located. Dead cattle littered the fields on both sides of the road; the bodies were bloated by the hot sun, and the stench was strong.
I immediately went to see Captain Roquemore, commander of B Company of the maintenance battalion. Rock was a tall, slender, lazy-eyed Southern country boy with a slow drawl and an easy, subtle sense of humor.
“Cooper, put it to me,” he said. “What the hell is happening over there?”
I told him we had a lot of losses and that Dick Johnson needed help. We went over the maps in detail, and I showed him the areas that Dick had picked out for B Company. Rock concurred and said he would like to move at daybreak. It was already dark by this time, so I decided to spend the night in the B Company bivouac.
My driver, Smith, had already parked the Jeep next to a hedgerow and started digging a foxhole. I pitched in with a shovel. The earth here had been a plowed field and was much softer than that across the river at Airel. The digging was made even easier by the fact that we weren’t being shelled.
We dug a two-man foxhole approximately seven feet by five feet by two feet deep. We cut down some small saplings and placed them across the hole, then laid our shelter half tents on top. We covered this with dirt, which we tapered from about eighteen inches in the middle to about six inches on the sides. We left a small entrance at one end. Although the foxhole would not stand a direct hit from an artillery shell, it would protect us from any that landed nearby.
The night before on the hill at Airel, a number of artillery shells had hit close by. From that experience, I concluded that what we had been taught at the bomb disposal school at Aberdeen Proving Ground in January 1943 was true. As long as we could stay below an explosion’s blast cone, we had a reasonable chance of surviving. Also, the Germans sent their planes up at night to drop butterfly bombs, small bombs about the size of a hand grenade that are scattered from a large canister and had a considerable effect against personnel sleeping in uncovered foxholes. We’d had a number of casualties in the maintenance battalion back at Isigny due to butterfly bombs.
Thoughts on the Reality of Combat
Smith and I climbed into our foxhole and stretched out on our bedrolls. I took off my boots and helmet, put my pistol under my helmet, and relaxed. I could tell by Smith’s deep breathing that he had gone to sleep immediately, but I could not sleep right away. I was excited, concerned, and frightened all at the same time. I thought about those young soldiers marching up the road to go into combat for the first time, then I thought about having to lead B Company across to the VCP tomorrow. Where would we have to go after that? I became extremely nervous and sad. Tears came to my eyes when I thought about the two soldiers we saw who had been blown out of their Jeep. I began to wonder if I had the strength and courage to go through this for who knows how long.
I began to reflect on my whole life and my ideals, particularly my religious views. I thought about my early Sunday school days when I was a child in the Methodist Church in Huntsville, Alabama. I remembered being taught the Twenty-third Psalm. “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.” The words came clearly, and I started crying. I continued saying the words to myself: “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me. Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.”
Then a feeling of calm came over me. I stopped crying and finished the psalm, thinking that something was happening to me, something I did not understand but I knew was real. To quote the Episcopal prayer book, “A Peace which passeth all understanding” came over me. I knew then that I could do what had to be done. I knew there would be terrible times ahead and I would still be frightened and be exposed to a great deal of suffering and devastation. However, I knew that I would be able to cope with it. This experience would influence my entire life.
More Tank Losses
The next morning, the trip across the bridge at Airel was uneventful. B Company moved into the VCP and immediately prepared to go to work. A steady stream of knocked-out tanks and other vehicles came in all day long. In addition, the 33d Maintenance Company T2 recovery crews reported a number of tanks that had been knocked out and set on fire and were thus beyond repair. They bypassed these and recovered only those that had a reasonable chance of being fixed and put back into action.
An entire platoon of five tanks from the 33d Armored Regiment came under flanking fire on the lower river road near Pont Hébert. The Germans knocked out the rear tank first, which blocked the road. They proceeded to knock out the front tank, then concentrated their fire on the three tanks in the middle. The tank crews returned the fire but were completely overwhelmed by the superior German antitank guns.
The Germans were dug in
in the heavy bocage hedgerows, and the infantry could not come up fast enough to dislodge them. Whenever the tanks got too far ahead of the infantry, they were exposed to withering flanking fire from antitank guns and panzerfausts. The Germans continued their fire until all the tanks were in flames; they knew that once a tank burned, it could not be repaired. Those crew members fortunate enough to escape worked their way back down the river road through enemy lines.
With the ever-increasing vehicle casualties, it became obvious that we had to forget the regulations and adopt a radically new procedure. All of the ordnance logistic training for the invasion of Europe had been based on the assumption that our vehicular casualties, particularly the tanks, would be much lower than what we had encountered in initial combat, so the requirements for ordnance spare parts for armor divisions were grossly inadequate. Although the maintenance battalion had fifty-four two-and-a-half-ton GMC trucks devoted entirely to spare parts, plus a number of other trucks in the maintenance companies of the various armored units, they were not enough. The initial determination of spare parts for an armored division was based primarily on information from line officers in the armored units. If Patton had been so completely wrong about the heavy tank, it was little wonder that the line officers underestimated the combat requirement for spare parts.
Given these assumptions, the procedure was that all repairs were to be made with spare parts available to unit maintenance companies, plus those additional parts carried by the ordnance maintenance company attached to the combat command. Any vehicles that could not be repaired, due to lack of spare parts, were to be left in place, not cannibalized but left at the VCP for evacuation later to the army base ordnance companies.
Death Traps: The Survival of an American Armored Division in World War II Page 5
