Death Traps

The Siegfried Line

The Siegfried line fortifications, which varied in depth from ten to forty miles and had fairly well dispersed strongpoints, extended from the heavily wooded hills in the Saar region northward along the German border up through Luxembourg. North of there up through the Hürtgen Forest and the beginning of the Rhineland Plain around Stolberg and Aachen, the line narrowed to four to six miles in depth, though the concentration of fortified strongpoints was much greater.

The concept and tactical planning for the Siegfried line were a direct result of the brilliant German general staff and its desire to design a fortified line incorporating all the latest military technology. Unlike the Maginot line in France, which was farther south and limited primarily to the Saar region, the Siegfried line was designed for a new type of highly mobile warfare.

Although fighting a two-front war simultaneously was to be avoided, if possible, German planners recognized that this might be necessary for a short period. Realizing that the French and the British would most likely carry out their commitment to Poland, the Germans decided to build the Siegfried line in the west between Germany and France. It was not only to be the strongest defense line in the world, it was designed to be a launching platform for a major offensive.

The Siegfried line varied in depth depending on terrain and population density. Small villages and towns in close proximity with a concentrated population were incorporated into the defense system. Many of the small cottages in Hastenrath and Scherpenseel looked like innocent farm dwellings but were actually fortified pillboxes. The basement ceilings were made of twelve- to eighteen-inch-thick reinforced concrete. The basement walls, also reinforced concrete, extended two feet above ground level and had long, narrow gun ports disguised as ventilator slots. The trenches going into the basements zigzagged, so it was difficult to throw in a hand grenade. In effect, these houses were built on top of pillboxes and were so well camouflaged that we had to be right on top of them to detect their true purpose.

The major pillboxes, in the countryside outside the villages, were generally rectangular but were sometimes built in a polygon shape to fit the slope of the land. They varied from thirty to sixty feet across and could accommodate up to fifty men.

The location of these pillboxes at first appeared random, but after close observation we noted that each pillbox took maximum advantage of the terrain. In most instances, the pillbox was located so that a direct assault would bring the attacking force under the fire of two other pillboxes. Therefore, the pillboxes did not necessarily face the direction of the enemy attack but could face any direction that might support another pillbox that was being attacked.

The pillboxes had heavily reinforced concrete walls from three to six feet thick and roofs from three to four feet thick. Their trilock construction consisted of railroad rails placed flange to flange on the bottom layer, with another row at ninety degrees to the first. The rails were approximately six inches apart. Several layers of these were placed in this same pattern one on top of the other. Concrete was poured in between to form an extremely heavy fortress deck that was virtually impenetrable by artillery. A direct hit from a 240mm shell, the largest we had in the field, detonated on top of a pillbox and generated a crater eighteen inches deep and four feet in diameter. An armor-piercing 76mm shell striking the side of the pillbox would generate a hole about ten inches deep and eighteen inches in diameter. If a tank could hit the same spot innumerable times, it might be possible to get a penetration, but in the meantime the tank would be exposed to murderous antitank fire. The best method was to get around to the gun port, where the protection was thinner. Once a pillbox was captured, our engineers would place large explosive charges inside, then they would blow back the roof in one section and neutralize the pillbox.

The aggregate used in the German concrete gave the pillboxes a dull grayish color, which made them blend in perfectly with the surrounding terrain. In front of the pillboxes lay long, continuous lines of dragons’ teeth. On top were staggered rows of pyramids, starting about two feet high in front and tapering gradually upward to a height of five to six feet. It was virtually impossible for a tank tread to span them. Thus, the dragons’ teeth kept tanks too far away to fire directly at the pillboxes’ gun ports but close enough to come under antitank fire from the pillboxes.

The combination of pillboxes and dragons’ teeth made an ideal matrix. The Germans dug trenches between the pillboxes, allowing infantry to move freely from one position to another. They used bulldozers to dig large, inverted, tapered wedges, with the dirt pushed into the end facing the enemy. A tank could then enter the pit with its gun barrel barely above ground level. This offered protection for the tank hull and exposed only the gun, the gun mantlet, and the forward part of the turret, with the heaviest armor on the tank facing the enemy fire. It also provided a reasonable degree of camouflage. The tapered pits could be dug quickly, and the tanks could be moved from one position to another. The pits also made ideal positions for 88mm dual-purpose guns.

Farther to the rear were similar positions with artillery and Nebelwerfer multibarreled rocket launchers.

Although Nebelwerfers were not as accurate as artillery, their blanketing fire was effective against advancing infantry. Because of the high-pitched noise of these rockets, they were known as “screaming meemies.”

Interspersed between the pillboxes, communication trenches, and gun pits were a number of slit trenches and foxholes to accommodate machine guns, mortars, and individual riflemen.

Thus, there was no solid line to break through but instead a whole series of positions in tremendous depth. As soon as our troops advanced through one row of defense, they would immediately face second and third rows.

Once a penetration was started in a formidable defense such as this, it was absolutely necessary to proceed as rapidly as possible to widen the breach in order to avoid attacks on both flanks of the penetrating unit.

The Siegfried line’s intricate series of dragons’ teeth, pillboxes, interconnected communication trenches, gun pits, and foxholes supported by an excellent road net provided the Germans with not only an effective defense system but also a base from which to launch a major offensive. We were to learn this during the disastrous German offensive in the Ardennes a few months later.

The First Army pursued the Germans rapidly and tried to intercept them before they could get back into the Siegfried line. Although this was done successfully at Meaux, Soissons, Laon, and Mons, the Germans were still able to extract a number of troops. Our mission was to attack them as quickly as possible, before they could get reinforcements and organize their defense properly.

According to the Armored Force Doctrine, an armored division was not supposed to attack a heavily fortified position but instead wait for a buildup of infantry, artillery, and general headquarters (GHQ) tank battalions, plus airpower, to make the assault. Although General Rose was obviously aware of this, he measured it against the fact that waiting for a buildup would give the Germans more time to reinforce their positions.

Knowing that the Germans did not have sufficient troops to man the line in depth, he decided to make an all-out assault as quickly as possible.

Attack Through the Dragons’ Teeth

The plan of the attack was simple and direct. Task Force X from CCA was to attack the line at a point east of Eupen and south of the Aachen -Eynatten Forest. Task Forces Lovelady and Kane from CCB were to continue past Rötgen and attempt to attack through that area northward in a flanking movement. On the night of September 12-13, CCA patrols sent out to reconnoiter the dragons’ teeth located an area where German farmers had piled up dirt between the “teeth” to make a temporary crossing for farm equipment. The German soldiers had not had time to remove this crossing, but it was assumed that they had mined it heavily.

The assault started at approximately 0800 on September 13. Task Force X sent forward infantry supported by artillery and tank destroyers that fired directly at the gun ports on the closest pillboxes. A flail tank from the 32d Armored Regiment attempted to neutralize any mines buried in the dirt.

The flail tank worked well on level ground, but the underpowered M4 tank did not have sufficient horsepower to operate the flail over rugged ground. As the flail tank got about halfway up the wedge, one of the chains fouled on a dragon’s tooth and brought the tank to a halt. The entire crew bailed out and went forward under extremely heavy German fire to disengage the chain. Two other tanks from the 32d Armored Regiment came forward and extracted the flail tank with their towing cables. Combat engineers from the 23d Armored Engineers Battalion, under intense German fire, finally neutralized any mines in the path.

A tank dozer came forward, plowed up a wedge of earth, and filled the space between the dragons’ teeth sufficiently to establish another ridge that allowed the tanks to cross. The Germans apparently never anticipated the use of a bulldozer blade hooked onto a tank.

Colonel Doan of Task Force X immediately moved twenty tanks through these paths and approached the pillboxes in support of his infantry. Once the tanks got inside the dragons’ teeth, they were extremely effective at firing shots into the pillboxes’ gun ports. Elements from the 26th Regimental Combat Team of the 1st Division gave them additional support, and with engineers and artillery they gradually overcame the rows of pillboxes. They not only knocked out pillboxes but also destroyed a number of 88mm antitank guns. That eight of these guns were completely unmanned indicated the German manpower shortage. The shock to the German infantry of being overrun by our tanks contributed largely to the success of this action.

The successful penetration of this first outer layer of the Siegfried line cost CCA dearly. Casualties among the infantry and engineers were extremely high, and ten M4 tanks of the first twenty to cross the dragons’ teeth were knocked out by nightfall. Of these ten, eight were set on fire and burned, another example of the relatively weak firepower of the 75mm and 76mm tank guns and the extreme vulnerability of the light armor on the M4 tanks compared to the German armor.

The dug-in German tanks plus the antitank guns and the fire from the pillboxes were awesome. Once again, the Germans continued to fire on a stopped tank until it burned. The flames from two hundred gallons of gasoline plus ammunition and other parts surged into the tank; the turret and the open cupola hatch acted like a chimney. Most of the internal equipment melted and fused together, and the armor was softened by the intense heat. That tank would never be an effective combat vehicle again.

As CCA made its frontal attack across the dragons’ teeth just south of Aachen, CCB launched a flanking attack north of Rötgen. The men passed through the northern fringes of the extremely rugged and heavily wooded Hürtgen Forest, which was ideal defensive territory. They finally encountered a roadway through the dragons’ teeth that was blocked with cables, mines, and steel reinforcements. Engineers went forward under heavy fire to remove these obstacles so the tanks could pass.

At Schmidthoff, Lieutenant Colonel King’s task force made a frontal assault but was repulsed by extremely heavy German fire. A mined roadway, blocked with cables and steel reinforcements, passed through the dragons’ teeth at Schmidthoff. After engineers removed the mines and destroyed the reinforcement and cables, the task force attempted to move its tanks through the opening. Just to the left of the roadblock was an innocent-looking farmhouse that was actually a pillbox. The tank column came under severe fire from the rear and the flanks. Only after a heavy firefight was the pillbox knocked out, and the tank column proceeded through the town.

The division was now well into the outer defenses of the Siegfried line. By September 15, CCB had penetrated the second-line defenses as it attacked northeastward. We were headed up the road about a mile south of Kornelimünster, trying to contact Task Force King of CCB. Suddenly, I saw a long white plume of a rocket heading straight up from the woods to the east. At first I thought it was one of our artillery rockets marking the target, but I never recalled seeing such a long white plume. Unlike an artillery rocket, this one kept going straight up and did not arch over. I hollered to Vernon to stop the Jeep, and I got out with my binoculars to inspect the plume more closely.

As it continued its path straight into the heavens, a second rocket slightly to the right of the first started along the same trajectory. Knowing that the German lines were somewhere in the woods to our right, I assumed that these rockets must be theirs and estimated them to be firing from a position approximately three-quarters of a mile to one mile to the east. The rockets continued straight skyward until they disappeared without any evidence of their arching over. It was a relatively clear day, so with my binoculars I could see the entire spectacle extremely well.

Maintenance battalion headquarters was located in Raeren, Belgium, about a mile and a half to the west.

When I reported to Major Arlington what I had seen, my buddies made snide remarks that I’d gotten into the German schnapps. But I was vindicated the next clay by the G2 report of the Germans having fired the first V2 rockets into Antwerp. We knew about the V2 rockets; the Germans had already fired them at London, the Thames estuary, and other Channel ports. As far as I know, this was the first observation by ordnance personnel of a V2 rocket fired from the ground.

Combat Command A, approaching east, and CCB, approaching northeast, were slowly converging into a relatively narrow front. By September 23, they reached the Stolberg-Aachen area. Stolberg was an industrial city in a deep, narrow valley southeast of Aachen and just north of the Hiirtgen Forest.

By this time, the 3d Armored Division and elements of VII Corps had penetrated the last heavy fortifications of the Siegfried line and were in a deep salient in the German lines, in a highly exposed position from both flanks. In barely eighteen days, the First Army, spearheaded by the 3d Armored Division, had dashed from Paris to the Siegfried line and killed or captured many thousands of Germans. In another twenty days, they had fought a desperate battle and penetrated the Siegfried line. The press now called the division the Spearhead Division, a title it had justly earned.

We were completely overextended and had run far beyond the capability of our supply lines. The great majority of our supplies were still coming by truck and pipelines from Omaha Beach. Our supplies of gasoline, ammunition, rations, and vital ordnance supplies were extremely limited. We had even run out of maps. It was necessary for me to mark on my map case with a grease pencil the route we had taken during the day, so I could go back at night with my combat loss report and then return.

The First Army was given the order to halt and set up a defensive position. It was to consolidate it as quickly as possible to allow time for other elements both north and south to straighten out the line and prepare for the next attack. Our division established a line from a point approximately halfway through Stolberg southeast to the high ground on hill 287 and then south to Mausbach.

General Rose moved division headquarters into the Prym House, on the forward slope of a hill on the southern outskirts of Stolberg, well within small-arms and mortar fire range. We weren’t sure if the Germans knew that the division headquarters was that far forward. Even though the headquarters received its share of artillery fire, there appeared to be no attempt to destroy the building.

The Division Regroups

The division was exhausted and had been heavily bloodied. Medics from the 45th Armored Medical Battalion did a fantastic job of patching up the wounded, but casualties among tank crews and other combat personnel had been much higher than anticipated. In addition, the loss in tanks and other combat equipment had been staggering. Of the four hundred tanks that had started in Normandy, approximately a hundred were still operational. Although ordnance had replaced most of the losses, the maintenance crews had to make an almost superhuman effort.

The maintenance men together with ordnance men, mechanics, and welders had long since become accustomed to working around the clock in blackout conditions. By using blackout curtains and small Onan portable generators, the crews could do a considerable amount of work at night. We normally didn’t like to weld at night, because from the air a flash could be seen in the darkness for several miles. Until the air force introduced the Black Widow night fighters, the only protection we had was from our own antiaircraft guns.

Although we tried to do maintenance in areas not exposed to direct small-arms fire, these areas were always exposed to incoming artillery plus an occasional sniper.

The maintenance men quickly adapted to doing field maintenance under all conditions. After a little rain, an open plowed field that had been converted to a VCP became a quagmire once a few tanks and other combat vehicles had run through it. The maintenance men worked in pouring rain and deep mud up to their rear ends.

In many small and subtle ways, a strong sense of mutual respect between the combat troops and the maintenance troops developed. Each knew that his survival depended on the other. This helped the division survive under the most horrible conditions.

The Battle of Aachen

The division had now entered a major regrouping. The 1st Infantry Division took over many positions of CCA to the north and shored up our left flank. The 9th Infantry Division shored up the right flank of CCB to the south. The 4th Infantry Division was moving up in the south through the Hiirtgen Forest and was experiencing terrible casualties.

Our division had driven a deep salient into the German lines, outflanking Aachen to the southeast. Corps and army medium and heavy artillery was brought forward to join our division artillery supporting the 1st Infantry Division in its assault on Aachen. The XIX Corps of First Army with the 30th Infantry Division and the 2d Armored Division moved in on the northern flank of Aachen. The battle for the city had begun.

The first large city in Germany to come under siege, Aachen was a key strongpoint in the outer edges of the Siegfried line defense system. It was an old and historic city that had been the seat of Charlemagne’s government in the ninth century. Charlemagne’s body was entombed in the city’s historic cathedral. The Allies were determined not to destroy the cathedral if the Germans did not try to make it a strongpoint. Both sides apparently understood this, because the cathedral, although damaged, was left virtually intact. Aachen also contained the famous German Polytechnic Institute, one of the finest engineering schools in Germany.

The division trains moved forward, closer to the combat units, to perform their functions more rapidly during this buildup period. Maintenance battalion headquarters company moved into an area just north of Raeren. Its billeting officer must have had his head up his rear end because he could not have selected a worse site; it was about two hundred yards wide and situated between two army artillery battalions. To the north was a 155mm howitzer battalion and to the south was an 8-inch howitzer battalion. When I expressed my opinion as to the precariousness of our position, I was told that the move had already been made and we would just have to stay put.

Vernon and I put down our bedrolls beneath Major Arlington’s trailer. There were two large armor-plated doors on either side of the trailer that protected the batteries, and we lowered these until they practically touched the ground. We felt that this would make an ideal spot for our bedrolls. We decided that, with all this protection, it wasn’t necessary to dig a foxhole. I found out later that this was a big mistake.

The two artillery battalions were laying down intermittent fire in salvos lasting two to three minutes each.

First, the 155mm howitzers would let go with a salvo and then stop; next, the 8-inch howitzers would let go with another salvo. This continued throughout the early hours of the evening and until well after dark. The blasts lit up the entire night sky very much like Roman candles.

Suddenly, there was a low whirring and swishing sound followed by a dull thud, then a tremendous crescendo of wracking and crunching. The lack of a high-pitched screaming noise indicated that this was not an 88 or smaller shell but was instead something quite large.

“Damn, Vernon, that’s incoming!” I said. “We should have dug that foxhole.”

We heard the sound of feet hitting the deck of the trailer above us, and I could hear Major Arlington screaming, “Cooper, what the hell was that?”

“Major, it’s incoming and it’s big,” I hollered. “You better get down here with us.”

Arrington came screaming out of the trailer dragging his bedroll and crawled under the trailer to get between the battery box covers with us. As he was straightening out his bedroll, another low, whirring noise started coming in much louder than the first. “Damn,” I yelled. “It’s right on top of us!”

This time there was no dull thud but instead a horrendous wracking, crunching noise. I felt as though my eardrums were about to burst. Fortunately, my Jeep was parked in front of the trailer and caught most of the blast. The windshield, although it was down and covered, was shattered, and the radiator and tires were destroyed. The entire front of the Jeep looked like a sieve. Part of the major’s trailer was also riddled with fragments.

Bitch was snuggled under Vernon’s arm, and I thought at first that she had wet the bedroll, but she hadn’t. I wasn’t sure that I hadn’t. There was no question that my Jeep and the armor-plated battery box covers had saved us.

The first round had come in north of headquarters company and just south of the 155mm battalion. The second round had come in on the southern edge of headquarters company, slightly north of the 8-inch howitzer battalion. I thought the next rounds would come right between, in the middle of headquarters company.

Sure enough, the Germans fired three more rounds in quick succession and they landed in the middle of the largest field, where headquarters company was bivouacked. Fortunately, the closest vehicles were about fifty yards away, and the damage was limited primarily to broken windshields and torn tarpaulins.

At daybreak, we could get a better idea of what had happened. The second round had landed across the highway about fifty feet from the major’s trailer. There was a railroad track on that side of the road, and the shell landed between the rails. Although this section of track was completely demolished, the combination of the steel rails plus the steel cross ties sometimes used on German rail lines seemed to muffle the effect of the blast. Although I had been correct in my warning about bivouacking between two artillery battalions, it did no good to push the point. I just hoped we all learned from that experience.

With the intermittent firing of the two artillery battalions some five hundred yards apart, the Germans’ flash detector was confused. The first round came in to the north of the battalion. The second came in to the south.

They split the difference, and the next three rounds zeroed in on the middle, which happened to be right where headquarters company was located.

Examining this area, we found three large craters fifteen to twenty feet deep and forty-five to fifty feet across. The craters actually overlapped one another. We located the base of one of the shells, a 210mm projectile. The largest field artillery we had encountered at that time, the shell had been fired by a 210mm railroad howitzer, located on a track that ran into a tunnel near Eschweiler, eight miles away. The gun was pulled out of the tunnel at night, fired against our positions, then returned to the tunnel at daybreak. This went on for several days before the air force located it, then had P47s dive-bomb and destroy the gun and the tunnel. The ability to fire three large-caliber rounds with overlapping craters from an eight-mile distance was some indication of the extreme accuracy of the German fire control systems.

C Company moved to an area south of Raeren near an ammunition dump. The maintenance company of the 33d Armored Regiment bivouacked a few miles away, just south of Kornelimünster. When I arrived there the next morning to see Maj. Dick Johnson, who commanded the maintenance company and was also CCB’s maintenance officer, he was complaining that an 8-inch gun battalion had moved in just north of him.

“Cooper,” he said, “I was here first, and those bastards moved in here later and are just going to draw artillery fire on us and make it difficult for us to do maintenance.”

“Major, you probably outrank that battery commander captain, so why don’t you go over there and tell him to move the guns?” I suggested.

The major grinned and thought about it, although we both knew that the location of the artillery battalions was according to a corps artillery plan and had priority over maintenance. It was obvious, with the buildup taking place, that the areas were going to become even more crowded as artillery, ammunition, and supplies of all types moved as far forward as possible.

As we had predicted, the 8-inch guns fired various missions throughout the day and night. The German sound and flash systems would pick them up and return fire. The Germans had a methodical way of fighting wars, which must have been the result of their discipline. The method must have worked to their advantage many times, but it also worked to their disadvantage, because things tended to become routine. For example, if the Germans fired a mission on a certain target at 1100, they would fire every day at the same time. You could almost set your watch by it. This at least gave us some warning of when incoming artillery was to be expected.

A herd of German cattle occupied a field between the maintenance company and the 8-inch gun battalion, closer to the artillery. Whenever the Germans would start counter-battery fire, some of the rounds would land in the field and kill a cow. As soon as the fire lifted, the artillery troops and maintenance troops who had taken cover in their foxholes would dash into the open field to claim the cow. It was reminiscent of Normandy, when we had smelled the terrible stench of dead livestock in the field. The only solution was to immediately go out and butcher the cow and clean up the remains. This also put fresh beef on the table, which was extremely hard to find at the time.

On this particular day, our maintenance soldiers were determined to avoid the event of the previous day, when the artillery troops had beaten them to a fallen cow. When the counterbattery fire started, one of the maintenance men took his crew and got inside a T2 recovery tank instead of getting into a foxhole. They started up the engine and waited for the counterbattery fire to cease.

Sure enough, right in the midst of the barrage a large cow was fatally wounded. The sergeant immediately moved his T2 across the field while the artillery troops watched helplessly from their covered foxholes. The men opened the trapdoor at the bottom of the tank and one of them sneaked out with a rope sling and attached it to the fallen cow. He attached the other end of the rope to the end of the winch cable, then crawled back inside the hatch as fast as possible. They left the field with the dead cow dragging behind them.

The maintenance company had a feast that night with fresh steaks for everyone. To the best of my knowledge, this was the first time in the history of warfare that a battlefield recovery under fire had been made for a dead cow.

As the buildup continued, Aachen was completely surrounded. An emissary under a flag of truce was sent into the city to demand surrender. The German commander refused, and the battle started in earnest. Task Force Hogan of the 3d Armored Division, attached to the 1st Infantry Division, proceeded to attack from the south and from the encircled east flank. The 30th Division of the XIX Corps, with elements of the 2d Armored Division, attacked from the north and northwest.

There was heavy fighting in some areas, particularly around the hills dominating the main roads in and out of the city. Aachen was pounded with artillery from four divisions plus heavy artillery from both corps and First Army. In addition, the 9th Tactical Air Force made a number of strikes at targets within the city. The German garrison was overpowered, and the commander surrendered after a tough fight.

The G2 received word that the Germans had developed a new secret weapon, a small, remote-controlled robot tank. It was about eighteen inches high, battery powered, and controlled by a wire that played out as the tank moved across open ground. The tank contained a thousand pounds of TNT and could be detonated by the operators, who could be several hundred yards away in a foxhole. A school had been established at Düren to train German soldiers to use this tank.

The G2 sent word to the combat troops to be on the lookout for any prisoners who might have attended this school. He was soon notified that a young captured German soldier appeared to have been a cadet at the robot tank school. He was brought to an abandoned schoolhouse in Mausbach where the G2 was interrogating prisoners. The young cadet, a tall Nordic blond product of the Hitler Jugend, turned out to be extremely arrogant and was humiliated that he had been captured alive and not allowed to the for the glory of Germany and his Führer. He refused to answer questions except to give his name, rank, and serial number, as agreed by the Geneva Convention.

Prisoners were sometimes required to do a few calisthenics to keep them in shape and loosen them up a bit.

The GIs ran the young German prisoner up the stairway to the second floor of the schoolhouse, then made him jump out the window and slide down the flagpole located next to the window in an attempt to make him talk, but their tactic didn’t work. The prisoner continued to express his indignation.

One of the basic tricks when interrogating prisoners of war was to build up the prisoner, then suddenly break him down psychologically. This prisoner was brought down the next morning to where all the prisoners were lined up ready to be loaded onto trucks and taken back to the POW camp.

The young Jewish lieutenant who was in charge of this group had been born in Germany but left the country with his parents in the early 1930s to escape Nazi persecution. He spoke perfect German and understood thoroughly the psychology of the Hitler Jugend. When the prisoners were lined up in front of the schoolhouse, the lieutenant was given a list of the prisoners’ names. He took a few moments to look over the list, then addressed the prisoners in perfect German. He told them that although they were prisoners of war, the Americans always admired bravery and courage, even among the enemy. He called out the name of the tank school cadet and asked him to step forward. He proceeded to heap additional praise on him in front of his German compatriots. The cadet grinned from ear to ear and constantly swung his eyes to the right and left to make sure that the other German prisoners had understood what the American lieutenant said. The lieutenant then stated that because the Americans were particularly impressed with this type of valor, even from a German prisoner, the decision had been made to accommodate the young lieutenant’s wish to fight and the for his Führer. He would therefore be released and returned safely to the German lines.

With that, two MPs, each wearing Red Cross armbands, drove up in a Jeep with a Red Cross flag on it, walked over and grabbed the cadet, one on each arm, and started to escort him to the Jeep. The expression on the young German’s face turned from a grin to one of complete and abject terror. He broke down and started crying like a little boy. “Nein, nein, I don’t want to the for the Führer. Nein, nein, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die!”

He was escorted back to the schoolhouse, where he told the American lieutenant everything he knew about the robot tank school. In the eyes of the American GIs, he had been completely had. Even his fellow German prisoners laughed at him as he was taken away.

The slow, drizzling rains of the early German autumn continued practically every day. The fields were becoming a quagmire, and it was extremely difficult to do maintenance. A few days after the fall of Aachen, the division trains moved into the city and the maintenance battalion moved into the Engleburt Rubber factory, which had large buildings to be used for shop space and plenty of paved areas. Major Arlington wanted all of the liaison officers to stay in one place so he could find them at a moment’s notice. My buddy Ernie Nibbelink found an excellent spot, which turned out to be the factory’s telephone exchange. Located on a lower level of the main floor, it had heavy reinforced concrete walls and a concrete roof. We felt reasonably safe here and didn’t dig a foxhole. After all this time in the field, we finally moved into a decent building with all the relative comforts of home.

Buildup to the Breakout Through the Siegfried Line

For the first time in four months, the division had a chance to catch its breath. It occupied a narrow front from Stolberg across hill 287 and down through Mausbach. The 9th Division was on our immediate right, and the 4th Infantry Division was south of there in the Hürtgen Forest. The 104th Division had come up on our left flank and relieved the 1st Infantry Division. Although our division occupied a frontline position, it was able to rotate the units periodically and give the combat troops a little chance for rest and recreation.

The buildup was in full swing, and new personnel and equipment replacements arrived daily. Contingents of every artillery and GHQ tank battalion, antiaircraft and tank destroyer units, and all types of supply, maintenance, and ammunition units moved as far forward as possible. The entire area became extremely crowded.

The war in northern Europe, from the landing on the beaches in Normandy to the Siegfried line, had been successful so far. The skilled deployment of infantry, armor, artillery, and airpower made the Saint-Lô breakthrough successful and permitted the armored divisions to exploit the breakthrough in deep, slashing columns across northern France and Belgium and into the Siegfried line defenses in Germany. The assault across northern France became an example of armored warfare exploited to the ultimate state of the art. But as the main weapon of the armored columns, the M4 medium tank resulted in horrendous losses that threw an extra load on the other arms. Only through the combined efforts of our armored infantry, self-propelled artillery, tank destroyer units, and pinpoint bombing by the P47s were our great tank losses partially offset.

The great irony of World War II, as far as the campaign in northern Europe was concerned, was becoming only too apparent. Perhaps the most powerful ground force ever assembled, backed up by powerful strategic and tactical air forces, was being frustrated and taking horrendous losses because its main assault weapon, the M4 medium tank, was vastly inferior to its enemy counterpart. This forced a basic change in the application of our Armored Force Doctrine, which had been so brilliantly conceived a number of years before. Because of our inferior main battle tank we could not utilize this doctrine to its fullest capability

Armored Force Doctrine was based on two separate and distinct types of armored tactical units. Each unit was organized, equipped, and deployed in the field to accomplish a separate mission.

The GHQ Tank Battalion was normally attached to an infantry division and supported it in assaults on fortified positions. The original thinking was to have the GHQ Tank Battalions equipped with a heavy assault tank with sufficient frontal armor to enable it to resist enemy antitank fire. The Germans had long since recognized this need and had developed turretless versions of their Mark IV, Mark V, and Mark VI tanks.

Without the extra weight of the turret mechanism, heavier armor could be provided. The assault version of the PzKw VI, known as the Jagdtiger (Hunting Tiger) had a 128mm high-velocity antitank gun and 13 inches of frontal armor and weighed approximately 64 tons. This was twice the weight of our M4 and it was obvious to us that the M4 was not even remotely in the same ballpark as this awesome monster.

An American heavy tank had been developed in the early years of the war, but it was soon abandoned and all efforts were concentrated on the M26 Pershing. Patton’s recommendation to concentrate instead on the M4, because we needed a fast medium tank and because tanks were not supposed to fight tanks anyway, was a disastrous decision based on inflexible military thinking. Patton was the ranking Armored Force commander and had an extreme flair for getting his way.

Patton’s view was opposed by the combat commanders who had served under him in North Africa, and to even the most inexperienced second lieutenant tank platoon leader it was obvious that if our Armored Force Doctrine said that tanks were not supposed to fight tanks, the Germans would do just the opposite and oppose our tanks with their heavier tanks whenever possible. Even though this policy had been reversed by General Eisenhower when he saw our terrible losses in Normandy, it was too little too late, and we still had not received any M26 heavy tanks by early November 1944, though they were desperately needed.

The armored division was a highly mobile, self-contained arms unit capable of ranging deeply behind enemy lines for at least three days without additional supplies. Once a breakthrough had been made by the infantry and GHQ tank battalions, the armored division could penetrate deeply behind enemy lines. Even though the Armored Force Doctrine said that the armored division should avoid enemy tanks where possible, the original planner certainly would have insisted that the division be equipped with tanks equal to or superior to the enemy tanks, should the occasion arise for them to engage each other. The idea that the M4 should be given preference over the M26 because of its superior speed was a great fallacy. Although the M26 Pershing outweighed the M4 Sherman by some 15 tons, its 550-horsepower motor compared to the 400-horsepower motor of the Sherman gave it a higher horsepower per ton ratio and thus an equal or greater speed on the highway. In addition, its longer wheelbase and wider track gave it a ground bearing pressure approximately half that of the M4. This bearing pressure was similar to that of the German tanks and made it much more maneuverable in open country.

Though lacking an adequate main battle tank, the armored division was often called on to perform the missions that would normally have been assigned to a GHQ tank battalion. Besides lacking an adequate assault tank, the GHQ tank battalions apparently had insufficient training in combined operations with infantry. The armored division had its own armored infantry and was accustomed to working with it in a symbiotic relationship where each depended on the other. This made for an excellent working relationship, when a combat command was attached to an infantry division or a regimental combat team from an infantry division was attached to an armored division.

As the buildup neared completion in early November 1944, it was obvious that another massive breakthrough was being planned. General Eisenhower had observed that if the Germans attempted to take a defensive stand with the narrow Rhineland and the Rhine River to their rear, they were taking a serious risk. With our great air superiority, the Rhine crossings could be neutralized and the Germans trapped on the west bank of the river.

There were, however, several reasons for the Germans to take this position. The Siegfried line was still virtually intact and had been penetrated deeply by the First Army only in the Aachen-Stolberg area. A large percentage of German electric power came from the steam-driven, brown coal-fired electric utility plants on the Rhine Plain between Bonn, Cologne, and Düsseldorf. The loss of these plants would be a major disaster to the German war effort. Unknown to us, the Germans needed the Rhineland to launch their planned Ardennes campaign. In addition, the Germans, particularly Hitler, saw the invasion and occupation of German soil as anathema.

It had rained practically every day and the ground was saturated, making movement by tanks and other armored vehicles extremely difficult. The inability of our medium tanks to negotiate soft ground had been recognized some time before, and field service modification kits had been sent forward to be installed on the tanks.

The kits consisted of three-inch-wide steel grousers, which were attached to the track connectors on each track block on both sides. This gave an overall width of twenty inches compared to thirty to thirty-six inches on German tank tracks. I contacted Dick Johnson with the 33d Maintenance and arranged to have their supply truck pick up the boxes of grousers at the ordnance battalion headquarters company. The grousers finally got down to the tank crews, who installed them on their own tanks.

The tank crews were enthusiastic about the grousers, which did help somewhat, but the ground was so completely saturated that the grousers only partially solved the problem. Our tanks still got stuck easily. The problem was that the grousers were designed so they did not come in full contact with the ground until the tank had already penetrated the outer crust. Thus, the breakthrough of the crust had already occurred and the tank could still sink down further due to the shearing action. I’d venture to say that the fields around Kor-nelimünster, Mausbach, and Breinig are still filled with leftover grousers and spare locknuts.

Our front line between Stolberg and Mausbach extended across the top of hill 287. On top of the hill was a German pillbox we had captured and used as an observation post. From an open-top concrete bunker adjacent to the pillbox, we could observe the back slope of the hill. The German frontline positions were seventy-five yards down the slope and east of the pillbox.

During this two-month lull, the buildup continued on both sides, although the view from this frontline position gave little evidence of it. There were often exchanges of small-arms and mortar fire. In the intervening times between these fire-fights, the whole area was relatively calm.

Looking down the hill from the bunker, we could see a roadway running roughly parallel to our front line and connecting the small villages in the valley below. They had obviously been evacuated of all German civilians, although we occasionally saw cattle grazing in the valley. This pastoral scene would be rudely interrupted when one of the cows would suddenly explode. There were mines all over the area, and whenever a cow blew up the forward observers would try to pinpoint it on the map. From the frequency and randomness of the explosions, it was apparent that numerous minefields were scattered throughout this entire area.

Between our lines and the German lines and about a hundred yards north of the pillbox was a large slag dump. A small clump of trees stood at the bottom of the forward slope and the dump. A German infantry company had taken cover in these trees and come under heavy artillery fire. The point detonating fuses on the 105mm howitzer shells were set off when they struck the tree branches, and the midair explosion caused the troops on the ground to get the full effect of the blast. About 150 bodies were piled up under the trees, and numerous bodies were scattered across the crest of the hill and down the slope behind the German lines.

Some of the bodies had been there for two months, and the stench from them was terrible.

I received a new Jeep to replace the one that had been damaged by shell fire at Raeren. I also got a new driver. Vernon received a well-deserved rest, then was transferred back to C Company.

My new driver, a young soldier named White, was vigorous and enthusiastic about his job. He could hardly wait to get to the front line and see all the excitement. I explained that his job was to take care of the Jeep and keep it ready to move on a moment’s notice twenty-four hours a day. Combat was not glamorous; our job was to keep a low profile. There would be plenty of excitement to go around.

When Vernon transferred back to C Company, he took our little dog Bitch with him, because they were attached to each other by now. In the four months we’d had her, she had matured rapidly. She soon met many German boy dogs, became pregnant, and had a large litter. Vernon gave the puppies to many of his buddies in C Company. I’m sure that her progeny are scattered throughout western Germany and did their share in cementing long-term German-French relations.

The first time I took White forward, we went to the pillbox on hill 287. I wanted to talk to the forward observer and get some idea where the mines were located, because I knew that when the attack started, our tanks would eventually have to go through this area. We left the Jeep about a hundred yards west of the crest of the hill and proceeded on foot. I told White to stay inside the pillbox to avoid the occasional random shells that fell near there. He could look through the vision slots on the back side of the pillbox to see what was going on and keep an eye on the Jeep.

The artillery observer was out on the open parapet with his battery commander’s (BC) scope looking down the valley toward the German positions. He had his maps out and was marking targets as I approached him.

We saw some movement about a quarter mile down the forward slope of the hill. Three white objects were moving among the German positions; upon close examination through his scope, we saw that they were German medics. They wore large, stolelike white vestments that covered their chests and backs completely and were stuffed into their belts. Red crosses approximately eighteen inches high were on both the front and back of the vestments, and their helmets were solid white with red crosses front and back. This garb gave them much greater visibility than our medics had; they wore only armbands with small red crosses and helmets with red crosses painted in white circles on both sides.

The German medics moved freely from one foxhole to the next tending to the wounded. Our artillery observer made no attempt to fire on them as long as they were exposed. I’m not sure the Germans had the same respect for our Red Cross. I remember too well when the Germans fired on the clearly marked half-track ambulance back in Villers-Cotterêts, killing all aboard.

Suddenly, there was a tremendous explosion on the earth mound right behind us. We both hit the deck immediately. I remember feeling a tug at the back of my combat jacket as I fell down. An incoming 81mm mortar shell had struck the parapet behind us. I reached over my shoulder to see if I’d been hit and discovered that my right shoulder epaulet on my combat jacket had been severed by one of the flying mortar fragments.

With the exception of being dazed for a few minutes, I was unharmed. Although I could not hear what the artillery observer was saying, I could tell by the expression on his face that he was also okay.

I returned to the bunker and stuck my head inside to tell White we were getting ready to leave, but he was not there. One of the men inside said he had left a few minutes ago and thought he’d gone back down the hill to the Jeep. I looked around but didn’t see him anywhere. I continued to call his name, without any response.

After several minutes I saw a lone figure emerge around the south side of the pillbox. It was White all right, and he was carrying a rusty M1 rifle covered with mud. I explained that he had not only exposed himself unnecessarily but had jeopardized the lives of our infantry-men dug in around the pillbox. Because he was only seventy-five yards from the German front lines, he could have easily been killed and drawn fire on our other positions in the vicinity.

The chewing out I gave him shook him up; he had no idea of the seriousness of what he had done.

“Look, Lieutenant,” he said, “I found an American rifle on the field and brought it back.”

I knew then that White was an extremely naive young soldier. I explained to him that there was no shortage of M1 rifles and that risking a life was not worth his find. I continued to press hard on this point to make sure it didn’t happen again.

After examining the rusty, mud-covered rifle, I figured it had probably been on the ground for at least two months. There was a live round in the chamber, and both the bolt and the safety were rusted tight in the firing position. I knew it wouldn’t be safe to bring it back to the maintenance company in this condition. I held the rifle at arms’ length, pointed it over the hill toward the enemy line, and pulled the trigger. It fired perfectly, and the reaction sheared loose the rust on the bolt and inserted a new round in the chamber. I then unloaded the rifle, gave it to White, and told him to take it back to the small-arms section. They could clean it up and reissue it. I had always felt that the Garand rifle was an excellent gun, and this certainly confirmed it. General Patton reportedly called it “the ultimate weapon of World War II.”

The battle plan called for another major combined-arms operation, similar to the Saint-Lô breakthrough. With the massive use of airpower, artillery, armor, and infantry, we were to shatter the German frontline positions and break out onto the Rhineland Plain.

To accomplish this mission, VII Corps was assigned five infantry divisions (1st, 4th, 9th, 83d, and 104th) and two armored divisions (3d and 5th), more than half of First Army’s strength. The VII Corps front line extended from the middle of Stolberg, southeast across the back slope of hill 287, down to Mausbach, and into the northern part of the Hürtgen Forest. The initial objective was to break out of this line, capture Eschweiler and Düren, and secure a bridgehead across the Roer River, which was the last barrier before the flat portion of the Cologne Plain.

Just prior to the initial attack, all the division’s tanks were incorporated in the division artillery fire plan. Each tank platoon was given an aiming point and the proper elevation and deflection of its guns to strike specific target areas. Excess ammunition was stored alongside the tanks for use during the initial barrage. After the barrage, the tanks could move into their attack positions with a full load of combat ammunition. The tanks firing as artillery gave the division a total firepower of thirty-six artillery battalions. Combined with the artillery of the other divisions plus attached corps and army artillery, the VII Corps had a total firepower of ninety artillery battalions.

The tanks and other armored vehicles were in reasonably good shape from a maintenance point of view. Any tanks that had survived since Normandy had had a hundred-hour check, and all badly worn tracks had been replaced. In Stolberg some of the tankers had gotten sacks of cement from an abandoned cement factory and made up a crude mixture of concrete for patches to reinforce the front glacis plate. The patches, which the men reinforced with chicken wire and angle iron, were three to four inches thick. Other tankers used sandbags, logs, or anything else that might offer added protection.

The Assault to the Roer River

The buildup was now complete, and the infantry and armor were in position and ready for the attack. During September and October, the infantry assaults through the Hürtgen Forest had been extremely costly. It had been estimated that a major assault through the forest would cost an additional ten thousand infantry lives.

This apparently contributed to the decision to use the 3d Armored Division for a direct frontal assault.

Although this was completely contrary to Armored Force Doctrine, it was felt that an armored division must be used as the initial assault force due to the inadequacy of the GHQ tank battalion and infantry division combination.

The Germans had taken advantage of this interim to reinforce their side of the line. They had pretty well evaluated our M4 battle tank and realized that the gun and the armor were vastly inferior to those of their Panther and Tiger tanks. They also knew that our tanks would get stuck more easily in soggy terrain, and persistent rains had kept the ground completely saturated. With this knowledge, they developed an extremely effective defense plan. They heavily mined all of the open terrain on the back side of hill 287 and the fields surrounding the villages below.

The German line on top of hill 287 was barely seventy-five yards from our positions in the pillbox and extended down the hill southeast toward Mausbach. When placing their first row of mines, the Germans did something that we had never encountered. Instead of placing the mines in front of the outer infantry line, as was normally done, they placed them slightly behind their forward infantry outposts. Thus, our combat engineers would have to infiltrate these outposts at night to locate and remove the mines. This was extremely difficult if not virtually impossible. The Germans planned to hold these outposts as long as they could; only when the pressure became too great would they withdraw. This would leave our troops exposed to completely intact minefields.

The first objective was to break out of this area and secure the bridgehead across the Roer River at Düren. To accomplish this, the 3d Armored Division was to penetrate the minefield on the back side of hill 287 and seize three villages in the valley below, about a mile away. These villages—Werth, Hastenrath, and Scherpenseel—were heavily fortified and lay in a triangular fashion across the main north-south communication lines for the German troops in this area. Combat Command B of the 3d Armored Division was selected to make the initial penetration.

The morning of November 16 was overcast with patchy ground cover. The initial attack started at 1115 with the assault of thirteen hundred heavy bombers and six hundred fighters against Eschweiler and Langerwehe.

This was followed by seven hundred medium bombers and a thousand heavy bombers attacking targets farther to the east.

From the revetment at the pillbox on hill 287, I could see a group of P47 dive-bombers attacking German fortifications at the base of a concrete observation tower approximately a mile and a half across the valley.

The German antiaircraft fire was extremely intense, and I could see the tracers weaving like giant luminescent snakes. When a dive-bomber makes its pass, it must fly in a straight line before releasing its bombs. The planes are extremely vulnerable at this point, and one of the planes was struck just as it turned down into a dive. Although it was on fire, the pilot continued on his dive path until he had released his bombs and fired his machine guns. He pulled out of the dive at the last minute and headed back westward streaming smoke and flames. I never saw a parachute and was not sure whether he made it back or not. Everyone who witnessed the incident realized that it took a lot of guts to fly into a solid wall of flak the way that young pilot did.

Simultaneously with the heavy air strike, the ninety battalions of field artillery opened up, concentrating particularly on the villages. Combat Command B assembled just south and west of hill 287. As the task forces proceeded over the crest of the hill and passed through our infantry lines, they were exposed to the full effect of the German minefields.

Each task force had one flail tank. As the flail tanks crested the hill, they passed through our infantry line directly into the minefields. Although the tanks had to contend not only with mines but with an extremely soggy field, they made an initial good showing. The flying chains detonated several mines, and the explosions created additional craters. But finally, due to the combination of the muddy fields and the fact that the horsepower needed to turn the flail took too much power away from the tracks, both flail tanks became mired in the mud. They made excellent targets and were soon knocked out.

The second tank in each column had no choice but to go around the flail tanks and continue the attack. A tragic domino effect followed. The first tank proceeded around the flail tank and made its own way for several yards before striking a mine and becoming disabled. The next tank bypassed the first tank and tried to go its own way for several yards, then it struck a mine and became disabled.

This process continued until eventually one tank got through the minefield and proceeded with the attack.

The next tank behind it tried to follow the same path, and sometimes it would get through the minefield successfully. However, by the time the third tank tried to come through in the same tracks, the soft ground would mire the tank so deeply that it would stick, in spite of the “duck feet” we had bolted on the track connectors. All the stuck tanks became sitting ducks for the murderous German antitank fire. The Germans continued to fire at the tanks until they set them on fire. When the crew tried to bail out, they immediately came under concentrated automatic weapons fire.

These brave tankers knew that the tanks would be at an extreme disadvantage in the muddy minefields, but they pressed on with the attack. This was one of the most courageous tank attacks of the entire war. It started with sixty-four medium tanks, and we lost forty-eight of them in twenty-six minutes. A proportional number of soldiers died in this terrible fight.

By nightfall, Task Force 1 had reached the vicinity of Has-tenrath after taking tremendous losses. One column started out with nineteen tanks, including a flail, and ended up with four by the end of the day. The other fifteen were lost in the minefield. The surviving tanks were further exposed because the infantry had a difficult time coming forward to support them. The minefields were also heavily infested with antipersonnel mines. These were deadly to the infantry, who were under extremely heavy small-arms, mortar, and artillery fire.

In the fighting around Hastenrath and Scherpenseel, the tankers, without adequate infantry support, performed almost superhuman acts of heroism to hold on throughout the night. It was reported that one of the tankers, in his tank on a road junction, was the only surviving member of his crew but was determined to hold his position at all costs. A German infantry unit approached, apparently not spotting the tank in the darkness.

The lone tanker had previously sighted his 76mm tank gun down the middle of the road. He depressed the mechanism slightly and loaded a 76mm HE. As the Germans advanced in parallel columns along each side of the road, he fired. The HE shell hit the ground about 150 feet in front of the tank and ricocheted to a height of about 3 feet before it exploded.

The shock took the Germans completely by surprise. The American tanker continued to fire all the HE he had as rapidly as possible, swinging the turret around to spray the German infantry, who were trying to escape into the fields on both sides of the highway. Loading and firing the gun by himself was extremely difficult, because he had to cross to the other side of the gun to load and then come back to the gunner’s position to fire.

After exhausting his HE and .30-caliber ammunition, he opened the turret and swung the .50 caliber around on the ring mount and opened fire again. He continued firing until all of his .50-caliber ammunition was exhausted, then he grabbed a .45 submachine gun from the fighting compartment and opened fire with this.

After using all the ammunition from his Thompson and his pistol, he dropped back in the turret and closed the hatch.

He opened his box of hand grenades and grabbed one. When he heard German infantry climb onto the back of the tank, he pulled the pin, cracked the turret hatch slightly, and threw the grenade. It killed all the Germans on the back of the tank and those around it on the ground. He continued to do this until all of his hand grenades were gone; then he closed the hatch and secured it.

By this time, the German infantry unit apparently decided to bypass the tank. From the vicious rate of firing, they must have assumed that they had run up on an entire reinforced roadblock. When our infantry arrived the next day, they found the brave young tanker still alive in his tank. The entire surrounding area was littered with German dead and wounded.

This, to me, was one of the most courageous acts of individual heroism in World War II.

By the next morning, the engineers had cleared some of the mines on the forward slopes of hill 287. They put up taped markers so the T2 recovery crews could come forward. As we went through the path to examine each tank, we had to be extremely careful. Although the major fighting had ceased in this area, we were still subjected to periodic small-arms and mortar fire. The recovery crews would take cover behind the tanks when the firing started; as soon as it lifted, they would resume trying to hook up the tanks and get them out.

In addition to the sporadic fire, there was still the danger of mines. In some cases there were unexploded Teller mines under some of the knocked-out tanks. Assuming that there might be mines under all the tanks, the recovery crews hooked a long cable from the T2, which was parked about a hundred feet away, then slowly pulled the tank by its winch. If a mine under a tank exploded, the tank would be further damaged but the maintenance crews would be relatively safe inside their T2 vehicle.

The maintenance crews, who had to expose themselves many times in situations such as this, took every reasonable precaution. They first went for the tanks that were merely stuck in the mud, because they had their tracks intact and were easier to pull out. If a tank struck a mine and broke a track, generally one or more bogey wheels were damaged and temporary repairs were made.

While we worked on the tanks, a line of infantry crested hill 287 and headed down through the minefield.

Their rifles were fixed with bayonets and they were ready for action. This turned out to be the second mop-up wave of the 104th Infantry Division. The first wave had gone through earlier and was engaged in bitter fighting in the Hastenrath area working with our Task Force 1. Lieutenant Colonel Mills, the Task Force 1 commander, had been killed on November 18 in this action and was replaced by Colonel Welborn. We were delighted to see soldiers from the 104th Division, because we knew that it was a crack division commanded by Gen. Terry Allen. He had previously commanded the 1st Infantry Division, which was also in this operation and had a reputation as one of the best divisions in the army.

As the infantrymen passed through us, they executed considerable skill in fanning out on the flanks of the slag pile and the woods on our left. As soon as they entered this area, they had to dislodge the Germans with a lot of bitter hand-to-hand fighting. They cleaned up the area with dispatch and took out a number of prisoners.

Firing into our area immediately tapered off, and we were considerably relieved.

Sooner or later you develop an almost super sixth sense. You know that an artillery or mortar shell is coming toward you before you hear the whining and before the wrack wrack sound when the shell strikes the ground in an exploding crescendo. I have often tried to analyze this sixth sense. I believe it has something to do with the high-angle trajectories of the mortars and howitzers. The sound from the gun barrel travels in a straight line faster than the projectile, which reaches you an instant later. I believe that one intuitively learns to recognize the difference between the sound of the muzzle blast when the projectile is aimed directly toward you and when it is aimed at an angle away from you. I’m not sure if this is correct, but I know that understanding this enormously increases one’s chances of becoming a survivor.

Captain Bew White, motor officer of the 391st Field Artillery Battalion and second-ranking maintenance officer in CCB below Maj. Dick Johnson, came down with his recovery vehicle headed toward the Hastenrath area. He told me they had lost one of their forward observer tanks and he was going down to see about it. I told him that the VCP was being set up at Mausbach on the highway. Lieutenant Colonel Gar-ton, commanding officer of the 391st Armored Field Artillery Battalion, was also in command of the artillery group supporting CCB in this operation. As White’s commanding officer, Garton would raise hell until he got back his forward observer tank. In an operation of this type, the artillery has its own forward observer tanks that go with the task force to pinpoint the artillery fire.

The loss of a forward observer tank meant that we also lost a tremendous amount of concentrated artillery fire; thus, replacement was vital. German tankers, even buttoned up in their Panther and Tiger tanks, were extremely leery of the 105mm howitzer. A direct hit on the frontal or side armor by a 105mm would have little effect on a German tank, but a plunging hit on the top of the tank, where in some cases the armor was only a quarter of an inch thick, would be disastrous. In a situation like that at Hastenrath, with the tanks beyond the infantry support, the forward observer could call for overhead airbursts directly on their position.

The tankers buttoned up inside would be relatively safe, but the fire would be devastating to any German infantry trying to close in on the tanks with bazookas.

By the middle of the day, the Mausbach VCP was rapidly filling with shot-up tanks. The T2 recovery crews did a superhuman job extracting these broken and battered tanks from the minefield. In some cases, the tanks were so completely mired, up to the middle and tops of the bogey wheels, that the tanks acted like huge suction cups. It was necessary to dig small slit trenches under the back and sides of the tanks to let air underneath and break the vacuum. Although each T2 recovery vehicle had a powerful fifty-ton winch on the back, and using a single pulley made it possible to get a hundred-ton drawbar pull, sometimes it took two T2s hooked together to get a tank unstuck.

When I went back to maintenance battalion headquarters, I reported to Major Arrington that we had lost forty-eight tanks in twenty-six minutes in the minefield. We had recovered all but eight, which were badly burned and still in the minefield. He asked me how many I thought we could repair, and I told him I didn’t know but we had a lot of work to do. He said he was going to dispatch a detachment from B Company to assist Captain Grindatti from C Company with this extra work. Arrington immediately called Captain Sembera and instructed him to get more tanks on the way, because he did not know how many we would need.

Captain Tommy Sembera went back to army ordnance with the “W” numbers of all the tanks burned in the minefield, plus the numbers of others that had already been cannibalized. This should have been enough to get replacements started. Tommy, however, had one major disadvantage in dealing with the people in army ordnance. He was the only armored division ordnance property officer who was a captain. The table of organization for an armored division called for the ordnance property officer to be a lieutenant colonel. In another one of his screw-ups, Colonel Cowhey had deviously given this position to one of his personal friends and had Tommy actually perform the duties. Although Tommy had been the ordnance property officer for at least two years back in the States and in England and had done an excellent job, he had remained a captain because no other vacancy was available. Because the 3d Armored Division had sustained the highest tank losses of any other armored division to date, he was forced to compete with other officers of higher rank for new tanks. It was only due to the fact that Tommy had an excellent record and had done a superior job of liaison with army ordnance that he was able to perform his duties effectively. He apparently had established a high degree of credibility with the First Army ordnance people, because he was usually able to get us the tanks we required.

Once all the damaged vehicles were brought to the VCP, the maintenance people worked around the clock.

Of the forty-eight tanks initially knocked out, we were able to repair all but thirteen. This was done in three days, faster than the GI could bring up the necessary replacement personnel. This was a perfect example of the tremendous effect that a well-coordinated maintenance operation could have on an armored division’s combat effectiveness.

As the infantry came up and consolidated positions around Werth, Hastenrath, and Scherpenseel, CCA was committed with elements of the 1st Infantry Division toward Langerwehe, a heavily fortified objective north and east of Esch-weiler. Here again the tanks were unable to negotiate the extremely muddy fields. In one task force, twelve out of thirteen tanks became stuck in the mud. Had it not been for the support of the infantry, the task force would have suffered many more losses. The infantry pushed on through the stalled tanks and advanced forward without the direct fire support of the tank guns. Although the infantry had excellent artillery support, they undoubtedly suffered much higher casualties without the tanks. After heavy fighting, Langerwehe fell and CCA returned to division control.

Next, CCR was committed with elements of the 9th Infantry Division. The objective was to straighten out the line and bring it up to Düren on the Roer River. The line of advance was from Langerwehe through Obergeich and Geich to Echtz.

The tanks again encountered the terrible combination of mud and minefields. This slowed them considerably, and they were unable to give the infantry adequate support. At one point, one of the task forces encountered six antitank guns dug in on one flank supported by three mobile German tanks. Although CCR theoretically had many more tank guns available, the higher velocity of the German antitank guns plus the superior guns, armor, and maneuverability of the German tanks put them at a decided disadvantage.

The capture of Hoven allowed VII Corps to complete this particular phase of the operation and bring the line up to the west bank of the Roer River. By December 15, the entire 3d Armored Division had been pulled out of the line and put back in a rear area for a well-deserved rest and maintenance period.

The Failure of the November Offensive

Although the American First and Ninth Armies had penetrated the Siegfried line, the assault that began on November 16 had been a grave failure. The Ninth Army to the north had the mission of making the main effort in an attempt to break through the last vestiges of the Siegfried line, cross the Roer River, and fan out onto the Cologne Plain. VII Corps was to protect the Ninth Army’s right flank and capture Cologne, the largest industrial city in the Rhineland and an important rail and road communication center. The final objective was to secure bridgeheads on the Rhine River and attempt to trap the main elements of the German army on the west bank.

The operation failed for a number of reasons. The American armies had advanced extremely rapidly after the Saint-Lô breakthrough. The Germans had done an excellent job of demolishing the docks and harbors along the English Channel. The only usable port at that time was Cherbourg, and the distance by truck was almost six hundred miles through France and Belgium and into Germany. To make things worse, the chalklike ground of western and northwestern France became saturated after two months of almost continuous rain. This was particularly true around Reims, one of the main central supply hubs of the entire western front. The ground and roadbeds would no longer support heavy traffic, and under the constant pounding of tanks, trucks, and other vehicles the roadbed in many areas completely collapsed.

To offset these problems, the army organized what later became known as the Red Ball Express. The communication zone (COMZ) troops had thousands of two-and-a-half-ton GMC trucks running bumper to bumper twenty-four hours a day. Because the air force completely dominated the skies with the new Black Widow night fighter, contrary to all training the trucks ran with their headlights on as fast as they could go.

The army had long since lost confidence in the use of GHQ tank battalions working with infantry to achieve a major breakthrough, so they had used the armored divisions to perform this function. This was completely contrary to Armored Force Doctrine, and it dissipated the armored divisions’ strength.

With no heavy assault tank with wide tracks to negotiate the muddy fields, the attack on November 16 resulted in disastrous losses. In addition to CCB’s loss of forty-eight out of sixty-four tanks in twenty-six minutes, two combat commands from the 2d Armored Division lost approximately a hundred tanks under the same conditions in the Jülich area as they approached the Roer River. These losses were unacceptable, and the two divisions could not maintain their combat effectiveness under such conditions.

Few, if any, military historians have ever understood the importance of our not having the M26 heavy tank in time for the November offensive. Many combat soldiers felt that the initial assault on November 16 would have succeeded if we had had the Pershing, with its better protection and better mobility in muddy terrain. It would have been possible to break through the Cologne Plain and capture the bridgeheads on the Rhine River. Major elements of the German army would have been annihilated on the west bank of the Rhine, and the Ardennes attack might have been preempted. By that time, we would have been behind the German panzer units building up for the offensive. The Battle of the Bulge may have never taken place, some 182,000 German and American casualties might have been averted, and the war could have ended five months earlier.

This of course is pure speculation; however, it is based on the tragic experience of many armored and infantry troops. After the tankers saw their buddies slaughtered in our M4 tanks when they tried to engage the heavier German tanks, they could not help but agree.