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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* *
* THE HUERTGEN FOREST *
* *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
If war is hell, the Huertgen Forest was worse. No one who
was there and came out of it alive, and many did not, can
ever forget it. To say it was a nightmare is an
understatement. Patton described it as an "epic of stark
infantry combat." This description, however, glorifies a brutal
and purposeless military operation, which chewed up five US
Army infantry divisions. One of these was the 4th.
Before moving to my letters, it is necessary to set the stage.
The allied forces which swept across France arrived at the
German border exhausted, both the men and equipment.
The supply lines from Normandy were too long. As a result
of Montgomery's abortive efforts to make up for the failure
of Market-Garden, he delayed destroying the German forces
which were preventing the use of the port of Antwerp.
Therefore, it did not become available until the end of
November. General Bradley, in his A Soldier's Story, called
Montgomery's delay in taking on this task "an irrevocable
logistical loss to the Allies."
Eisenhower wanted to get on with the campaign but had to
devote a great deal of time to problems with the British and
French. Both disapproved of his conduct of the war. Aside
from personalities, the key issue with the British was
whether the Allied forces should make a one or two pronged
drive into Germany. Montgomery wanted to concentrate on
a drive in the north toward Berlin. Bradley wanted to make
a two pronged attack to isolate the Ruhr. After considerable
wrangling, Eisenhower approved Bradley's strategy. This
called for attacks all along the front in November.
The 4th Division's task was to clear the Huertgen Forest,
the fourth division sacrificed to this mission. These wooded
hills were in the First Army sector, commanded by General
Courtney R. Hodges. Specifically, we were in the VIIth Corps,
commanded by Lt. Gen. J. Lawton Collins. This was the
same corps the division was with during the landing and
breakout.
Fearing to have his forces advance south of Aachen with the
forest on his right flank, Collins had decided it essential to
clear the Germans from it. I am not the only one who finds
this decision difficult to understand. The German generals
were also puzzled why we did not just block the few roads
running through the forest and go around. Since, however,
Collins elected to fight in this forbidding terrain, the
Germans had little choice but to defend it.
The decision to conquer this forest at great cost is even
more puzzling when one takes into account the dams on the
River Roer. Even if we had got through the forest, we could
not have gone much further. The Germans would have used
the dams, as they did later, to flood the area east of the
forest. The puzzle therefore is: why did we not concentrate
on capturing the dams rather than the forest? Before trying
to answer this question, I will try to show you what three
weeks in hell was like.
The 4th moved into an assembly area near Zweifall, just
west of the forest, on November 7. Before arriving there, the
12th Regiment was thrown into battle suddenly in the
middle of the night to rescue a badly mauled regiment of
the 28th Division. This misbegotten operation had two
results. Col. James S. Luckett was relieved of command of
the 12th, and the regiment was not in condition to be of
much help in the forest.
AFTER COBRA, THE GENERALS DECIDE TO BOMB THE GERMAN REAR
After we arrived in the assembly area, we received word that
a bombing, Operation Queen, would precede our attack. This
led me to write the following letter:
Dear Dad, Somewhere in Germany, November 11, 1944
Yesterday I lectured one of my men for threatening to run
should we go through another bombing like July 25. Yet I
must admit that I am frightened myself. There is nothing so
ominous as the uncertainty of a future battle.
The next blow could be the last, and I hope it will be. We
are all anxious to bring this business to a conclusion. As
always, we shall do our best.
Your son, John
We need not have been concerned about the bombing. As a
result of the casualties during Operation Cobra, the bombers
dropped their bombs well in advance of the forces. The
drawback of this was that, whereas the attack in Normandy
stunned the Germans, those immediately in front of us in
the Huertgen were little affected by the bombing.
The prospect of another battle was not brightened by the
reality that winter was upon us. In A Soldier's Story,
General Omar Bradley says that his command had neglected
preparations for winter in order to get more ammunition
forward. This was not obvious to those of us at the front,
for we seemed to be getting the winter gear we needed.
Dear Dad, Somewhere in Germany, November 14, 1944
Knowing the German weather at this time of year from
World War I, it is unnecessary to tell you that it is wet,
cold, etc. However, despite rumors to the contrary, as winter
has approached, apparently our command has anticipated
a winter campaign.
The first line troops are getting sleeping bags, warm clothes,
and everything that will help them. Tentage and stoves for
rear installations not in buildings are making their
appearance. Thus life is still neither pleasant nor
unbearable. At any rate, it doesn't warrant complaint.
Hitler seems to expect a winter offensive. I hope we don't
disappoint him. However, it will be an unequal and messy
struggle, I'm afraid.
Read a condensation of Chiang's book on China. Interesting,
but vague as to concrete plans for the future. But perhaps
he intended this. Would appreciate any comments from you
on the Stillwell withdrawal. It is probably more important
than it was pictured.
John
Dear Folks, Somewhere in Germany, November 14, 1944
It's been snowing and raining to beat the band around here.
The other morning I went out and made a snowman. Other
than that, we mainly try to keep dry and warm. Amazing
though, no cold, and I feel fine.
Just finished reading Queen Victoria, starting Benjamin
Franklin. Ordered Fortune the other day and renewed Dad's
Time subscription, sending it to Valley Forge. No mail
recently, but it should float in one day soon.
Send me a pair of bedroom slippers. I'll need them when the
war is over and we start occupying. Optimistic, eh? Also,
send more tea balls.
Love, John
WE RUN INTO A SKILLFUL AND DETERMINED GERMAN DEFENSE
These were my last letters before our attack began on
November 16. Hoping that the rifle companies could surprise
the Germans, General Barton ordered that there be no
artillery preparation. Hence, I had little to do initially. My
only recollection is of driving in my jeep over a small
stream, the Inde River, on the near side of the forest. With
mud everywhere, the engineers had laid a road of logs. After
crossing the river, we entered the forest which would be our
home for the next three weeks.
The German defense was brilliant. Using units which had
been scraped together in a hurry, they made maximum use
of the terrain, which was hilly and had few roads. There
were concertinas of barbed wire and mines everywhere,
covered by small arms or machine gun fire. Despite fantastic
acts of bravery, the infantry found it impossible to move
forward. The problem was finally solved for the 8th Regiment
by using tanks to explode personnel mines and destroy the
concertinas. For this, Major George L. Mabry Jr.,
commander of the Second Battalion, got the Medal of Honor.
There were two other Medals of Honor awarded for action in
the Huertgen. President Truman hung one on Staff Sergeant
Macario Garcia for destroying two machine gun nests after
being wounded. Truman was, however, unable to hand one
to Lt. Bernard J. Ray. While trying to destroy a concertina
obstacle, Ray was wounded. As he fell, he set off the
explosives which he had wrapped around his body and
blasted a path through the wire. His sacrifice was in vain,
because German fire prevented his platoon from advancing.
Although with courageous acts like these, the infantry made
a little progress the first few days, the cost was terrible.
After three days, there was a one day pause. The Germans
took advantage of this to improve their position. I used it to
write a very brief letter.
Dear Folks, Somewhere in Germany, November 20, 1944
All goes well. Read your newspapers.
Love, John
I imagine the purpose of this letter was to let my family
know that I was still alive, since they would have been
reading in the press about the fighting.
Before we got to the Huertgen, Lt. Col. Cyril J. Letzelter had
replaced Jack Meyer as Commander of the First Battalion.
He had commanded it for a short while in Normandy but
was wounded. Although a likable person, other officers I
have talked to while writing this book have agreed there was
something lacking. In the Huertgen, he would return at
night to the battalion's rear command post. Capt. Ralph
Thomas, the battalion S-3, and I would plan the next day's
attack. He would prepare orders to the company
commanders, and I would arrange any artillery preparation.
Early in the morning Letzelter would return to our forward
command post, and the attack would begin. If the
companies ran into trouble during the day, their
commanders would get together and decide how to deal with
it.
One day an awkward situation arose, when regiment decided
to have tanks attack along a road. The tank commander
was clearly unenthusiastic about moving through the forest,
since the Germans had anti-tank guns and the hand held
panzer faust. About the same time as the tank commander
showed up, so did Col. Richard G. McKee, who had replaced
Col. Rodwell as commander of the 8th Regiment. The tank
commander put increasingly difficult questions to Letzelter,
which he had difficulty answering. Finally, Col. McKee
intervened and the tanks set off down the road. A short
time later a commander of one of the tanks showed up,
sobbing. A German shell had hit the tank, and his best
friend had had his face blown off.
There was another pause, and the Germans took advantage
of it to move reinforcements into the forest opposite us. At
this point, however, Col. McKee ordered the Second
Battalion to make a big demonstration, with artillery, smoke,
and the lot. It then remained in place, while the First
Battalion moved forward with no artillery or mortar
preparation. This worked well. The Germans fired their
artillery and mortars at the demonstrating battalion, which
remained in covered dugouts. The First moved forward
without resistance until it reached the regimental objective,
a monastery in the forest at Gut Schwarzenbroich. There,
however, it ran into German resistance. (It was during this
action that Corp. James R. Flannigan earned his DSC, but
more on this later.)
On November 25, eight days after the attack began, General
Barton ordered the 8th and 22nd to consolidate, while the
12th moved between them. This gave each regiment a more
reasonable front to cover. It was, however, too late. All the
units had suffered so many casualties, particularly in
company officers, that they were hollow shells. Joe Gude's
C Company for example, had only forty-four men. Before
replacements could get to where he was, many were
wounded or killed by artillery or mortar fire.
A VISIT TO A SHOWER POINT AND TO THE INFANTRY
I took advantage of the pause to write another letter.
Dear Folks, Somewhere in Germany, November 25, 1944
Dad writes that he and mother have gone to Mayos. Hope
they do not have an unpleasant stay there and that they are
soon back in Philly.
Haven't had much time lately to do any extensive writing,
but perhaps we shall in time. Had a shower today. Feel fine.
Love, John
The Quartermaster Corps had erected a number of shower
points behind the lines. Every couple of weeks we were
trucked to one of them. We would take off our clothes at
one end of a long tent, in which there were showers. When
we emerged from the other end, we got clean clothes. While
this helped, it did not take care of one serious problem,
trench foot. This disease was the result of having wet feet
over a prolonged period. Many men succumbed to this. It
was easy to avoid trench foot by simply washing your feet
regularly and putting on dry socks. Unfortunately, the
various military headquarters were slow in introducing foot
discipline. This was necessary, because a few men did not
mind getting trench foot in order to get out of combat. Some
of them paid by having their feet amputated.
During our pause, Henry Gorrell, the United Press
correspondent whom I had met in Spa, sent in a report on
the fighting which appeared in The New York Times. It was
a vivid account which included the statement, "The past ten
days of fighting in the dark alleys of Huertgen Forest have
been worse than the hedgerow battles of Normandy. And
when the roll is called the folks back home will understand
we've paid a high price for our drive through the woods. But
it had to be done." Well, what was he to say to the folks
back home, that it was a pointless battle?
When the fighting resumed, I found myself in a situation
which severely tested my nerves. Capt. Jack Tate, who was
commanding Battery A of the 29th, and I had gone forward
to visit one of the forward observers. As we were leaving
him, German artillery began bursting in the trees near us.
When we started to get in our jeep, a man staggered out of
the woods. One of his arms was hanging by a shred. I told
him to get in our jeep, so we could take him to an aid
station. Tate, however, insisted on putting a splint on his
arm first. I said, "Jack, he is going to lose that arm. There
is no point in putting a splint on it." As we were arguing, I
heard shell fragments hit our jeep. Tate, however, insisted
and began putting on a splint, using tree limbs. Every
instinct within me screamed to run, but I didn't. We finally
got the man in the jeep and drove out of danger,
miraculously without getting hit.
On another occasion, I was in my jeep with my driver,
looking for one of the infantry companies to talk with a
forward observer. As we moved along the road, I suddenly
noticed that it was very quiet. Not sure where we were or
what lay ahead, I told the driver to turn around. As we
drove back, we passed a jeep lying on its side, which I had
not noticed before. It had hit a mine on the road. This
reminded me of how foolish I had been to venture out into
unknown terrain.
Another incident also showed how careless I had become.
Driving through the woods, I saw three Germans running
toward me through the trees. I reached for my sidearm but
found to my horror I had put my raincoat over it. Before I
could extricate the 45, the Germans were almost to my jeep.
To my relief, they wanted to surrender.
One day I saw Bill Sydnor walking through the trees as
though in his sleep. I shouted, "Hey, Sydnor, wake up." He
shook his head and said, "I was sitting on a chair, leaning
against a tree. Suddenly a shell landed under me. It was a
dud and did not explode." No wonder he was in shock.
Sydnor also took a prisoner in a bizarre way. During the
night a German on patrol fell through the canvas Sydnor
had stretched across his slit trench.
THE 4TH, EXHAUSTED, IS RELIEVED BY ANOTHER DIVISION
On December 1, General Barton went to see General Collins,
explained the condition of the division, and recommended
that it be relieved. Two days later, the 83rd Division began
moving into our positions, to resume the attack.
At that time, the advance command post of the First
Battalion was in a log and earthen bunker made by the
Germans. As long as we remained in it, we were absolutely
safe from German artillery or mortar fire, even if it hit the
bunker. With nothing to do, I had time to dwell on what
had happened and became convinced that I would never get
out of the Huertgen Forest alive. I remained, therefore, in
the bunker as much as possible for several days and
became well acquainted with it. To help cope with my
anxiety, I wrote a long letter home.
Dear Folks, Somewhere in Germany, December 5, 1944
It is too bad that there is not time to write to you from day
to day when we are fighting. As Dad can verify, it would
make a picture that you all at home would refuse to believe.
For it is beyond description. However, these images are so
well impressed on my mind that I'm afraid they will never
be erased, should I so desire. If in the future, I choose to
recount these past six months, it will not be difficult to
recall broad outlines and a few of the more impressive
details.
Just now I am sitting on my bedding roll, using my map
board as a desk, candle light for illumination, and writing
a letter in a dugout. The enlisted men are making coffee. All
four officers, Ralph Thomas, a captain and S-3 of the
infantry battalion I work with; Lt. Wittenberger, S-2; and Lt.
Giles, anti-tank platoon leader; and myself are writing
letters. The men are discussing various liquors.
As I look to the opposite corner, I see earth, with an M-1
rifle leaning against it. In the earth is stuck a trench knife
with a candle stuck on top. At my right are our CP
(command post) telephones, nerve system of our control of
the infantry companies. Rifles, pistols, canteens, and web
equipment hang about the place, always drab decorations.
Outside the night is clear, star-lit, and thus far moonless.
A lone Jerry plane buzzes overhead. Over our heads and to
the flanks the artillery rumbles.
Tomorrow at 0730 I shall have been in Europe six long
months. Six months of days, hours, and minutes. Each at
times an eternity. Now I wonder how many more of each of
these this will continue. And how long a man can go on
with it. The beach, Cherbourg, Periers, St. Lo, Mortain,
Paris, the Siegfried Line, and now Germany. Each fight
seems harder than the last.
Strangely, though, I feel better now than after any fight thus
far. After the others I've been quite run down. Today, after
a bath, haircut, shave, and change of clothes, I feel quite
good. Perhaps I'm becoming battle-hardened. I hope not. Yet
the dead and wounded have less and less effect. War has
become a business.
I've organized my work; there is an efficient system to it;
and seldom is there a hitch to it. Something is learned each
day, and the technique is improved. The shellings, the
chatter of machine guns, rifle fire, and air action have
become commonplace. Seldom do I get excited, seldom over-
frightened. Methinks it's about time to get this over with.
This has been difficult, but the men are in good spirits. The
weather has been unpleasant, but not impossible. German
defense has been stubborn and clever but not unbeatable.
Perhaps it has been the beginning of the end. The "little"
picture is always discouraging, only to see our work develop
into big advances. Let's hope this is true now. We shall see.
I've had much mail of late. Letters from mother, dad, and
Margaret. I'm very happy you did not tell me of mother's
operation until it was successfully over, and I am equally
relieved that all is well. Dad seems to be progressing nicely
and I trust is now back to civil life. I'm quite curious as to
what work he is doing and shall be quite disappointed in
the CB&Q if they don't recognize him to be the capable
person I know him to be.
All my love, John
Have a pleasant Christmas.
Dear Mother, Somewhere in Germany, December 6, 1944
Bless you, mother, for going through your illness without a
complaint. I growl about my "hardships" and forget that
other people have their difficulties too. I was quite concerned
when dad told me you were operated on and quickly relieved
by learning that you are recovering rapidly. Please do take
care of yourself, and I look forward to a resumption of your
letters. Meanwhile Dad is doing quite well at keeping me
informed.
Love to you, John
Dear Dad, Somewhere in Germany, December 6, 1944
There are fights, and there are fights. But, as you know,
some are more difficult than the others. This has been the
worst yet. Rain, cold, the forest, and clever defense, and a
desperate enemy have made it tough. Perhaps better days
are ahead, but this has been terrible. And six steady
months of war don't lighten the burden.
But, strangely, my nerves are fairly steady, my mind is
clear, and my sense of humor intact. The only really bad
moment was when I almost took up smoking to work off
nervousness.
Your son, John
Although I told my parents my nerves were steady, this was
far from true. By the time the fighting ceased, I was
depressed. Remaining so much in the dugout which I
described in my December 5 letter may not have helped.
When the time came for the First Battalion to move out of
the line on December 11, I arranged for my jeep driver to
pick me up at 07:00 in the morning. As I emerged from the
dugout, I could see him waiting on the road at the bottom
of the hill. As I started down, I heard artillery shells coming
in and ducked into another dugout. Once inside, my body
froze and I began to shake, for I remembered that the
Germans shelled that area every morning at that time. I had
simply forgotten.
When the shelling ceased, I ran down to the jeep, where I
found a frightened and unhappy driver. As we sped away,
he said, "Capt. Ausland, we could have been killed." I was
too ashamed to tell him of the mistake I had made.
That night, when wandering through the woods in which the
29th Field Artillery Battalion headquarters was located, I
looked up at a star studded sky and asked myself whether
there was not a better way to deal with the world's
problems. This rumination was an important event in my
life, for it was then I resolved to become a diplomat. This
showed how innocent I was, for I only later came to
understand that it is not always easy to separate diplomacy
from war.
SOME COMMENTS ON CASUALTIES AND AN AID STATION
During the Huertgen Forest fighting, five American divisions
had more than 24,000 casualties, killed, missing, captured,
and wounded. Another 9,000 fell by the wayside from trench
foot, respiratory diseases, or combat fatigue. Thus the total
was 33,000. The 4th Division had over 4,000 battle
casualties, of which over 400 were killed. There were also
over 1,500 non-battle casualties. This meant that more than
a third of the division was lost during the battle. Again, it
must be kept in mind that most of these casualties were
suffered by the rifle companies, which made up about a
third of the division.
At that point in the war, the Army was having great
difficulty providing replacements, or what were
euphemistically called reinforcements. It was combing the
rear areas for all available men. Often, they went into battle
with little training and did not last very long. Sometimes
men were killed or wounded the same day they joined their
unit, before they had time even to learn the names of their
company officers.
Army doctrine recommends against the collocation of
command posts and aid stations. Seeing the wounded can
discourage a commander from conducting an attack
vigorously. One day when I visited an aid station near our
command post, I saw why. Although the doctors and
medical personnel were doing their best, there were a great
many men in great pain, and their screams echoed through
the trees. Not all of them were, however, unhappy. I asked
one officer I knew what had happened to him. He replied,
"John, I have a joy wound in my leg. It is not so serious
that I will not be able to walk again but bad enough that I
will never be returned to combat."
While I was visiting the aid station, Col. McKee, a gentle
mannered man, appeared. As he stood there, watching, he
noticed some men wandering around aimlessly. He asked a
doctor, "What is wrong with those men?" The doctor turned
from the man he was treating and replied, "Shock. They
can't take any more." The doctor went back to his work, and
Col. McKee departed without saying anything further. What
can one say to a soldier who has seen more slaughter than
he can cope with?
In Crusade in Europe, Eisenhower said he would only
undertake actions where the Germans would have at least
two casualties for every one of ours. Germans records for
this battle are incomplete and hence do not tell us what
their casualties were. Given the advantage the forest gave
them, however, it is unlikely they met Eisenhower's criterion
of two to one.
OBSERVATIONS ON THE HUERTGEN A HALF CENTURY LATER
My final letter regarding the Huertgen Forest was sent from
Luxembourg, to which the 4th Division moved to lick its
wounds and to guard the approaches to Luxembourg City.
Dear Dad, Luxembourg, December 15, 1944.
The Huertgen Forest has been cleared of the enemy. Another
battle is ended. Thank God for that. All is well, and I can
afford no complaints.
John
The next day Von Rundstedt launched the surprise which he
had been preparing while we were slogging our way through
the Huertgen Forest. One of the consequences of that battle
was that the 4th was in such a weakened condition that the
Germans came close to breaking through and capturing
Luxembourg City. If they had, the war would have taken an
even more dangerous course than it did.
What conclusions can be reached about the battle of the
Huertgen Forest? Perhaps the most telling comment is that
the Army Command and General Staff College for a time
after the war used it as an example of how not to fight a
battle.
In his autobiography, Collins admitted his intelligence had
let him down in not informing him about the dams. By the
time he learned of them, as a member of Hodges staff
commented, "We had a bear by the tail and couldn't let
loose." Put another way, they did not want to admit failure.
The late Charles B. MacDonald in his book The Battle of the
Huertgen Forest concluded, "Those in the Huertgen Forest
fought a misconceived and basically fruitless battle that
could have, and should have, been avoided."