Dazed men staggered forward and tanks rode over the dead. Infuriation at the airmen diffused into unmitigated fury for the enemy. Utter destruction was the norm as the bombardment also buried German tanks, knocked out enemy communications and strongpoints, and cratered the fields and roadways. For the next two days, 100,000 men poured forward as the Allied forces smashed out of Normandy and the hedgerow country. After 49 days of combat, the men of the 30th Infantry Division and the 743rd Tank Battalion were finally pulled off the line, with the opportunity to take their first showers, replace more equipment and men, and maybe even catch a USO show or a few hours of much needed shuteye. Soon enough, they would be back in the thick of it.
*
Summertime in France. At four o’clock, the birds began to sing, and the morning glow intensified as the tankers stirred from their half-sleep. Eighteen hours later, dusk would give way to dark, but the men on many of these days would still be on alert and on the go. German planes and artillery would take advantage of less than six hours of darkness to harass the weary men. Everyone was on edge but there was little time for settling in; they were on their way to relieve the 1st Division holding the line at a sleepy little town called Mortain. On the 45-mile trek to Mortain, the roads were lined with the young and old, welcoming the soldiers and tankers as their liberators, ‘cheering and throwing bouquets, and offering drinks at every halt. One could easily feel that the Germans would not stop [retreating] short of the Rhine River,’ one officer remembered.[43] It was a much needed boost to their morale, but little did the men know that Mortain was the very place that the Germans would launch a major counterattack with four panzer divisions, conceived by the Führer himself.[*]
The breakthrough in Normandy had telegraphed to the German High Command the unwelcome possibility that the Germans might have to withdraw from France or risk being encircled and trapped. Neither option was acceptable, so Hitler himself drew up the plans with the expectation of punching through the American lines and driving to the coast at Avranches, forcing a wedge into the advancing armies and stopping the hemorrhaging, perhaps even pushing the invader back all the way to the sea. Having survived the July 20 assassination attempt, he was in no mood to listen to objections; and so it was that the 30th Infantry Division, 743rd Tank Battalion, and the 823rd Tank Destroyer Battalion came to one of the crossroads of the entire Normandy campaign.
The soldiers and tankers took their positions in and around the small town of 1,300, but had had little time to reconnoiter the surrounding territory. Roadblocks were set up, and on the high ground of Hill 314, with its commanding views of the countryside, 700 men tried to settle in. Control of the hill meant control of the roads. Five days later, only half were able to stagger off the hill under their own power.[44]
Shortly after midnight on August 7, 26,000 Germans and the first of 400 tanks, including the lead elements of the black-uniformed crews of the 1st SS Panzer Division Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler, began to attack. With a barrage of rockets, artillery fire, and mortar rounds, they enveloped most of the American positions on the roads surrounding the town in short order. The afternoon would bring counter attacks by the rockets of RAF Typhoon fighter bombers targeting the panzers, but also taking out some of the 743rd’s Sherman tanks. As dark fell on the evening of the 7th, the men on Hill 314 were surrounded by the 2nd SS Panzer Division.[*] The 743rd’s assault gun platoons fired shells packed with morphine and medical supplies, which burst on impact.
As the Germans repeatedly tried to scale the hill, an artillery spotter called down round after round through his fading radio set, delivering death on his doorstep from five miles distant.[45] The hill held. Watching the battle closely, Hitler called for a renewed effort to take Mortain and this troublesome obstacle. Under a white flag of truce, the SS officer expressed his admiration for the stand and demanded surrender. The senior officer refused, releasing a pent-up, colorful reply and calling in an artillery barrage on his own position as the Germans attacked it.[46] The hill held, and on August 11 the Germans began their withdrawal amid constant shelling and harassment from the air. While the 30th had lost over 2,000 men, the Germans had had their attack blunted and nearly 100 tanks knocked out or abandoned.[47] It was the start of the German movement to the Siegfried Line and their westward defenses on the border of the Reich itself; by the end of August, some 10,000 Germans had been killed in the pocket and 50,000 captured. The German commander, relieved of his command and summoned back to Germany by Hitler, chose to commit suicide by cyanide instead. The Battle of Normandy was nearly over, and the Germans had lost the equivalent of 40 divisions—nearly a half million men, killed, wounded, or captured.[48] The Allies sustained over 209,000 killed and wounded, sixty percent of them being US ground troops.[49]
As the tankers and soldiers sped northward in pursuit, Paris was liberated on August 25, but they only caught glimpses of the top of the Eiffel Tower from a distance.[50] With the coming of autumn, the tankers and infantrymen pushed into the Low Countries, and the 30th Division was the first Allied division to enter Belgium and the Netherlands. In just three months they had fought from the Normandy coastline and were now knocking at the gates of the Reich itself.
Carrol ‘Red’ Walsh
Now let me tell you, that was the way to fight a war! We just ripped up through France, into Belgium, and into Holland. We were the first troops in those areas, and boy they were glad to see us, I tell you! We would have rations in the tank—cigarettes, chocolate, 10-in-1 rations,[*] and K-rations[*]. We were throwing them out, these people didn’t have much to eat, so they were so glad, and we were glad to be giving them these things. And then we ran out of cigarettes, and we almost died! Cigarettes, you know, who wants them today? But back then that was a big thing for us—we lived on cigarettes! God, we were taking coffee, ground coffee seeds, and wrapping them up in newspaper and smoking them! Honest to Pete, we gave our cigarettes away until supply caught up with us, but we were getting all the wine, the cognac bottles they were giving us, and we were running out of room. So we would take them in the tank. The shells were in these racks on the side. We got so we were throwing some shells out and putting the wine bottles in. [Laughs] We knew we could get more shells, but we wanted that wine and the cognac.
We were in this place called Cambrai, and the Germans were running one way and we were going the other way. Anyway, we were on the line, and there was a nice Belgian lady coming down and offering a drink to all of us. I think that might have been calvados, which was the worst stuff that ever was, it burnt real bad.[*] There was this new kid [replacement soldier] from New York City, he didn’t drink. He was a student at Columbia, so he was no dummy. We said to him, ‘We know what [the drink] is, and what it would do to you if you just took a good shot?’ [Laughs] We told him, ‘Gee, it would be against proper diplomatic policy to refuse a drink—it would be ill-mannered! It certainly wouldn’t hurt you just to take one sip offered by this woman, so that she would know that you were grateful,’ and so on. So he agreed, [laughs again] and he was standing on the deck of the tank and he took it in hand. We told him, ‘Now whatever you do, throw it down fast.’ That was the worst thing you could do! [Laughs harder] He leaped right off the back of that tank, yelling!
When that happened, I was 23. Now actually I was kind of an old guy for the time. I was old, and I was looked upon as old. A lot of the infantry guys were eighteen, nineteen years old. [Takes more serious, reflective tone] Oh yeah, I was considered an old guy. Now let me tell you about the combat I was in. Like I said before, you couldn’t remember what your mother looked like; you thought you had been there forever. I was in combat ten months straight. You have to realize, Matt, that was a long time to be in combat and still be alive or not wounded. You just give up; you know there is no use to hoping that maybe you will get out tomorrow, you just are going to go on. You have that feeling and you just trot along; that’s why we did that crazy stuff to the poor kid with the calvados. It was great through Belgium and Holland
because Germans were not even fighting you. Oh, you would run into a firefight once in a while, but then they would just scatter. Once we got to the Siegfried Line, then they would tighten up. From October into December, it was bad. We were in Germany, the 743rd and 30th Division. We were north of Aachen, we even fought at Aachen. That was tough going.
*
On September 14, Maastricht was liberated by the soldiers of the 30th, the first Dutch city to be liberated by the Allies. The path to the Fatherland from here across the Meuse River was only about twenty miles; German artillery opened up on the Americans as the push to the ‘Dragon’s Teeth’ began. Here at the Siegfried Line, or ‘Westwall’ as Hitler called it, a three-mile-deep complex network of bunkers and reinforced concrete pyramid-like projections were designed to slow down advancing armor into a killing zone right at the German border. Every village along the line was part of the fortress system; pillboxes built by the hundreds were heavily concealed, interconnected, and houses were loaded with snipers.[51] Airstrikes from England and artillery barrages inspired terror and awe, but in the end it fell to the common foot soldier and the tanks to root out the defenders. The tankers began attempting to blow open the fortified positions with high explosive rounds, then hitting the opening with flame-throwing tanks, or burying the tenacious defenders alive with bulldozing tanks. The 743rd claimed 18 German tank kills but lost 22 of their own.[52] Heavier engagements were now the norm, and the men of the 30th found that if they did not swiftly move forward after subduing a German pillbox, a counterattack was likely to materialize.[53]
Sol Lazinger, from Brooklyn, New York, joined the army at age 17, and at age 18 found himself on the front lines with the 117th Regiment of the 30th Infantry Division.
Sol Lazinger
I was a rifleman. I was young. We [look back, and] try to compare ourselves after sixteen weeks of basic training—and we went into combat fighting German soldiers who had a minimum of five years’ worth of army experience. It was not the easiest thing in the world, but we did the best we could.
I fought my way through France. I was very lucky because I was in combat for most of the time. I went through many battles all through France, Belgium, and Holland; and when the big officers came around, they used to tap me and say, ‘Oh, you’re still here?’
When we broke through the Siegfried Line and attacked, many of my friends were killed. One fellow by the name of Ben Shelsky was a replacement soldier [like me]; he went over the Siegfried Line, too. He got a telegram from the Red Cross that said his wife gave birth to his child. The next morning a sniper killed him; the telegram telling him that he became a father was sticking out of his pocket.
So we went across the Siegfried Line and went to a town by the name of Lubeck, Germany. After the first day there, I was wounded in street fighting; I spent on and off almost two years in the hospital—I had most of my left ankle blown out by machine gun bullets.
When someone lost a friend, we sort of tried to stick together even though we were all from different parts of the country. And you get sort of down with everything, but as I say, you know, we did the best we could, but it was an uphill battle fighting against the soldiers who were trained for longer periods of time. But I think the American boys did very well.
Just six miles into Germany lay the first enemy city to be assaulted. Aachen’s significance was also symbolic, for here was the old capital of the First Reich[*], and the tomb of the first Holy Roman Emperor, Charlemagne. With the 1st and 30th Infantry Divisions committed, the battle raged for nearly three weeks at a cost of about 5,000 casualties on both sides. By the time of the battle for Aachen, Red had graduated from bow gunner to being the driver of a light tank in Dog Company. Months of combat seemed like one hundred years; survival was the name of the game. ‘Just keep going’ was his mantra.
Unshaven, dirty, and tired, the tankers moved north with the infantry to push through towns on the way to the Roer River, coordinating their attacks by leapfrogging objectives by which a group of tanks and infantry would secure a location, and another group would then rush past towards the second objective, and once secured, a third would continue to bump the line forward, while the other units in the rear regrouped. They slept in bombed-out basements and the weather had been turning for a while, the first snow arriving on November 9. Days were much shorter now, and maintenance crews began tuning up the tanks for the cold. Winter gear was still in short supply for the men, though. They bided their time for the next offensive.
Shortly before Thanksgiving, the time had come to advance towards the Roer, although with it came more rain and cold, a ‘constant cold drizzle that fogged tank periscopes’… ‘a man got wet, and stayed wet,’ said one tanker. ‘At least we don’t have to walk through it like the doughs.’[*][54] Tanks bogged down and several struck mines.
The day before Thanksgiving, resistance stiffened. Three of the tanks in Red’s battalion were caught in the middle of a muddy orchard outside of the village of Erberlich, Germany, and destroyed with an enemy self-propelled 75-mm gun. Two others were knocked out in the same orchard by direct hits from a German tank and burned; Red knew all of the men who were killed.
And now it was Red’s turn to accept the inevitable. On this same day they were ordered to break a cardinal rule, because of what somebody above must have insisted was out of necessity. The jump-off time to take the tiny German hamlet of Fronhoven was delayed, another typical Army goof-up. The tanks and infantrymen were ready to go, waiting for the order. Soldiers would typically either ride on the tank or walk beside it, but not today. ‘All right, c’mon, let’s move out! Let’s go! Just the tanks!’ As daylight was fading, his tank and the four other light tanks of 2nd Platoon, Dog Company, were ordered to speed to the objective without their scouts, their eyes and ears. The tankers knew better—what looked like an ordinary dirt road was most likely zeroed-in by German artillery guns, and it made the anxious crews gulp. Common sense told them not to go to a place where it was wide open during combat. But with their orders to proceed down it immediately, the tankers’ best bet to come through it unscathed would be to race down the road, leaving the supporting infantry behind to catch up later, and pray it was not mined. And so it began.
Carrol ‘Red’ Walsh
They made us move down that road and we left the infantry far behind. So, we are racing down the road and I have not been a driver for very long. We also had a new bow gunner. On the bow gunner’s left side of the tank are the levers for driving the tank. If you could not drive from the left side then you would have to pull the levers down to the right side. So I asked the bow gunner, ‘Do you know about moving the levers?’ and he replied, ‘Yes.’
In a tank you can pull down the hatch. Inside the hatch is the periscope. If you think I could have seen much out of that periscope, you are crazy! I never could see anything, so when I drove I always had the hatch open! I could let the seat down, and just stick my eyes out so I could see without putting myself in too much danger. I could most certainly use the levers too! So there I was, and I said to the bow gunner, ‘If I get hit you are going to have to pull the levers down so you can keep the tank going.’
Racing along at speeds of up to forty miles an hour with the hatch open, peering just over the turret top to see where he was going, Red grimaced as the dreaded German artillery fire opened up right on cue, his knuckles white as he gripped the hatchway and the shells landed nearby and the enemy gunners found their range. Rocks, dirt, and shrapnel rained down as the shelling crept closer and closer to the tank column flying to outrun the barrage. An explosion just ahead poured debris down the hatch into the tank, and Red glanced down to gauge the reaction of the crew inside, only to see his bow gunner reaching for the steering levers that Red was operating with his feet. Over the din he screamed and kicked the gunner’s hands away—‘No, no, I am not hit yet!’
Miraculously, all five light tanks made it to the town. His commander ordered that they swing around a three-story building, and Red
pulled the tank around. He put the tank between the buildings and where new machine gun fire was coming from, stopped the tank, and closed the hatch. Now, they were all buttoned up and pinned down, stranded and isolated in the tiny German village. He knew he and his men in the tank had no infantry, he knew that they were caught, and they all knew that they could not get out due to the volume of fire. Their time as ‘fugitives from the law of averages’ was rapidly winding down, as shrapnel, timber, bricks, and rubble rained down on top of the tank and all around them with each methodical round of artillery fire.
Hours passed. Sometime during the night, Red realized that they were not going to escape with their lives. Most of the others came to this conclusion as well; his tank commander was troubled, muttering and sighing deeply. He had reached his breaking point. The commander rocked back and forth, the stress of combat taking its toll, and it was disturbing Red to the point that he assigned himself guilt for the predicament that they were in.
Carrol ‘Red’ Walsh
During the night I realized that I was going to die. When I accepted this I felt peaceful; there was nothing that I could do. I cannot explain it but to say that I was not troubled or panic-stricken. In fact, I was quiet—everyone in the tank was quiet. We all just sat in the tank.
During the night, I heard poor Schultsie, who was up in the turret behind me, say, ‘What did a man ever do to deserve this?’ Well, I got to thinking about some of the things that I had regretted doing in my life. I thought, ‘Jeez, I hope all these guys never find out all the bad things that I have done that I am getting paid back for now, and that they have to suffer for too!’ ‘I hope these poor guys never find out that this was all my fault!’ or ‘Man, I wish I had never done that!’ Honest to God, that is all I thought about.
A Train Near Magdeburg Page 20
