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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* *
* THE 4TH HELPS PUSH BACK THE GERMAN OFFENSIVE *
* *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
With Hitler's offensive in the Ardennes defeated, Eisenhower
was anxious to move on to the Rhine. He did not, however,
have only German forces to contend with. While negotiating
with Stalin in Yalta in early February, Roosevelt and
Churchill were also coping with the conflicting pressures
from their military regarding strategy and command. In
order to fend off British demands, Eisenhower decided to
give priority to Montgomery's forces on the north. At the
same time, he had to take into account Bradley's desire to
restore the prestige he lost by being caught off base in
December. In addition, Patton was unlikely to sit still, no
matter what the strategy was. Eisenhower supplemented his
decision to return the First Army to Bradley by
recommending that he get a fourth star. When ordering
Patton to halt his attacks in early February, Eisenhower
authorized him to continue "probing attacks now in
progress," well knowing how Patton would interpret this.
The 4th Division, which had fallen into Patton's Third Army
as a result of the Bulge, remained in it throughout February
and part of March. During that time, it found itself involved
in two attacks into Germany. In order to make the first of
these, it moved in late January from Luxembourg back to
Belgium east of St. Vith, where it had been the previous fall.
On January 29, the 8th attacked toward the Siegfried Line
and ran into resistance before reaching the German border.
As February opened, the First Battalion was in reserve, and
I had time to write home.
Dear Folks, February 1, 1945, Belgium
This going from one country to another is certainly going to
make going from state to state a tame business. France,
Belgium, Germany, Belgium, Germany, Luxembourg, and
now Belgium.
No doubt many relatives will wonder whether packages have
arrived. Probably they have. I've written to some, mentioned
others to you. Frankly, things have been moving so fast
since the Jerry drive, I've scarcely cared to read my mail.
My love, John
Shortly after this letter was written, we resumed the attack,
and it was over a week before we paused.
Dear Folks, February 12, 1945, Germany
And now we find ourselves once again in Germany. It
doesn't look any better this time than it did either of the
other times we were in it. But perhaps we should get used
to it, since it looks as though we will spend a little time in
it.
The weather is very difficult here just now. It wasn't too bad
when it was cold and the snow was on the ground, but now
that it is thawing, cold, and raining, it is really miserable.
Thus, it looks as though spring is coming and with it the
mud. One doesn't realize what a curse this is until he has
to work, live, and fight in it.
We have just concluded some of the most successful action
we have seen this campaign. Perhaps it is hard for you to
keep up with us. Echternach, then crossing the Sauer at
Bettendorf, now cracking the Westwall and capturing
Brandscheid (despite the fact that the Stars and Stripes
erroneously gave the 90th the credit.)
We've fought in so many places, on so many types of
terrain, and against so varied kinds of defense, it no longer
seems to matter where, when or how we fight. Sometimes
we think that the war will never end and that we shall go
on fighting forever. But end one day it must. Surely, fools
that we humans be, we shall not endure this stupidity
forever. But as long as the men who make wars are not the
same as those who fight them, it will go on.
I judge from dad's letters that he has gone to work for the
Burlington at Chicago.
My love, John
The official US Army history began its description of the
action I referred to in my letter as follows:
The VIII Corps's 4th Division knew the demolished pillboxes
well; it was the same unit that had attacked the Schnee
Eifel in September. The division would get a rare opportunity
to refight an earlier engagement over the same ground,
under similar conditions of enemy strength, against at least
one of the earlier opponents. Little would be changed except
the weather and stronger support on the division's flanks."
(Charles B. MacDonald, The Last Offensive, page 86.)
Although generally correct, I would add a few qualifications.
In the first place, our forces had destroyed only part of the
pillboxes before the German offensive. Secondly, most of the
people who were in the 8th in September were no longer
with us, having been killed or seriously wounded in the
Huertgen or Luxembourg.
After a drive over icy roads which were overcrowded with
traffic, we found ourselves looking eastward toward the
Schnee Eifel. We were once again on what we called the
Skyline Drive, a scenic road which overlooked the valley
between us and the Siegfried Line. The commander of the
First Battalion at that time was Major Lewis W. (Bill)
Leemey, who had been battalion Executive Officer. He was
both energetic and imaginative and made an excellent
battalion commander, whom the company commanders
respected. (Letzelter had gone one day to the aid station
with a severe headache and never returned to the battalion.)
Since Ralph Thomas, the battalion S-3, and I had been in
the fortified area in September, we went over the map and
briefed Major Leemey on the lay of the land. After thinking
a moment, he decided that the battalion would break all the
rules of behavior for Americans. Instead of attacking at
dawn along a road after an artillery preparation, we would
attack at night along a stream bed without an artillery
preparation. He approved, however, my suggestion to fire
light artillery at road junctions behind the German lines, in
the hope of disrupting their telephone communications.
The attack was far more successful than we could even
hope. Using the oldest trick in warfare, the first troops had
German speaking men in the lead. When challenged by a
German sentry, they replied in German that they were a
returning patrol. After killing the sentry, two companies
assembled in the German lines. At dawn, they attacked
north and south. When, at noon, Leemey asked them by
radio for their locations, he thought they had made a
mistake and asked them to repeat the coordinates. When
they confirmed them, we realized they had cleared several
miles of the fortifications. In doing this, they took 138
prisoners and had only one casualty.
One reason for this success was a procedure used for
attacking pillboxes, which came from the knowledge gained
in September. The trick was to approach the pillbox from
the rear, where there were no embrasures for the Germans
to fire from. Climbing to the top, soldiers would drop white
phosphorus grenades down the air shaft. Anyone inside
would promptly come out, with his hands up.
Another reason for this success was that the German line
was manned by the 326th Volksgrenadier Division, a poorly
trained unit which had been fighting since December 16 and
was only a skeleton. Most of those poor souls were by that
time thoroughly tired of the war. They would fire as long as
they felt safe but surrender promptly when they felt
threatened.
At one point, we occupied a farm which we had also used
in September. At that time, we got along very well with the
farm woman, who would bake cakes for us with flour we
furnished. By the time we returned in February, Eisenhower
had issued his non-fraternization policy. This meant we
could only speak to Germans on business. Noting the
change in behavior of the men, the woman asked me, "Why
are your men so unfriendly, Captain? Are they angry
because our soldiers chased them out of here in December?"
Another scene was not so amusing. I came across a field in
which an artillery battery had been located. The guns were
still there, and equipment was scattered all over the place.
Clearly, the Germans had caught our troops by surprise and
overrun it easily. The battery was in the same position one
of ours had occupied in September, not far from the front
lines. Had it been further back, it might not have been
captured.
UNPLEASANT SIGHTS AND A SUCCESSFUL ATTACK
There were also other unpleasant sights, which Col. Johnson
has described in his history of the 12th Regiment:
On those days, melting snow revealed the bodies of both
German and American soldiers upon the ground where they
had been frozen into weird shapes after they had fallen in
winter battles. Hundreds of dead cattle littered the fields and
destroyed vehicles lined the roads along with the carcasses
of the horses that had been used to pull enemy supply
vehicles. Most of the small towns had been either partially
or completely destroyed and the wreckage lay untouched
where it fell. Human excreta was deposited in the corners of
rooms where the fighting had been at such close quarters
that even leaving the buildings was an invitation to death.
(Col. Gerden F. Johnson, History of the Twelfth Infantry
Regiment in World War II, page 309.)
Although our penetration of the Westwall was a great
success, we had no sooner entered it than an ancient enemy
struck. Almost everyone in the battalion got diarrhea. This
did not improve on the sanitary conditions. As we advanced
on east through two feet of snow, we left a trail of brown
spots and toilet paper behind us.
At one point, we found ourselves in bushes alongside a
road. Suddenly we saw a group of Germans marching by.
Since Leemey was unwilling to reveal our position by
shooting at them, I called for artillery fire. When the
Germans started to run, I told the fire direction center to
increase the range gradually. I have no idea whether these
shells hit any of the Germans, since they disappeared over
the hill. Nevertheless, I appreciated a chance to fire at
people I could see, a task normally reserved to the forward
observers.
Another time, I was sitting on a hill and could see German
tanks on a hill on the opposite side of the valley. When I
called for fire, a few of the shells hit the tanks. As far as I
could see, however, they did no great damage, since the
tanks were able to move out of sight.
After taking a part of the Westwall, the 4th continued its
attack east until the 22nd Regiment on February 11
captured Pruem, which had been beyond our grasp in
September. By that time, however, the supply situation was
again difficult. On February 13, we were treated to an air
drop of supplies. Nevertheless, we had to pause for over two
weeks.
During this breather, I was again made aware of a narrow
escape. The house in which the battalion headquarters was
located was under artillery fire. Our telephone lines were
cut. My radio operator and I ran out to our jeep to get our
radio. As we were carrying it into the house, an artillery
shell hit nearby. The radio antenna, which reached several
yards into the air, toppled over. A shell fragment had passed
directly between the radio operator and me.
Evidently these events did not, however, discourage me
unduly, for shortly after we paused I wrote a letter home
which indicated another preoccupation.
Dear Mother, February 15, 1945, Germany
Did I write you to send a picture to a Miss Betty Mac
Quarrie of Sarasota, Florida? Well, perhaps you wonder who
she is. She was a dental hygienist at Ft. Dix.
No doubt you wonder about the women with whom I
correspond. Actually, there are only a few. There's Betty Mac
Quarrie; Harriet Bordwell, in Amarillo; Audrey Bragan,
Carol's friend in New York; Marjorie Sloan, the girl I met in
Palm Beach; Dorothy Apple, in Wichita Falls; Virginia Ward,
a nurse I dated in Ft. Dix, and Margo Southy, in England.
Can't compete with my brother's twenty-four. Actually,
they're all very interesting and pleasant girls. Since I'm
making love to none, it is very easy to correspond sincerely
with all of them.
GETTING ANGRY GETS ME AN UNEXPECTED THREE DAY PASS TO PARIS
There was then a pause in my letter writing, while I went on
a three day pass, which came about in a strange way.
Dear Folks, February 23, 1945, Germany
Let me begin with a report on my recent pass to Paris. We
left our units in Germany at about 0900 February 16. From
there we went to division rear, where all the men from the
various units of the division collected. By the time I reached
there, I was thoroughly ill - a result of several weeks of GIs
and a rough ride in a two and a half ton truck.
Nevertheless, I was on my way and not about to turn back.
Perhaps you wonder how I got this pass. Well, behind it is
quite a story. You see, I'll go sometimes for weeks without
seeing anyone back at our battalion CP. This time varies
with how long a particular fight lasts. Sometimes during a
fight there either isn't time or one doesn't feel like washing
or shaving. However, before I go back to battalion I always
clean up. The other day, however, I went back without
shaving.
You see, when you come back looking fresh, everyone says,
"Well, you all are really living the life of Riley, aren't you?"
However, when I went back looking worn and haggard,
everyone said, "It must be rough up there. You need a rest,
Aus. I've never seen you look so bad."
Two days later I received orders to report back to battalion
to go to Paris.
Well, anyway we started out for the city. I stretched out in
the back of a truck, went to sleep, and by the time we got
there the next noon I felt much better.
In Paris the Red Cross billeted us at the Washington Club,
or Hotel Louvre, which is at the opposite end of the street
from the Opera. The afternoon was spent in cleaning up and
planning the next several days.
But let me tell you about the hotel itself. A Capt. Miles,
from our division headquarters, and I shared a double room,
with private bath. The room would compare favorably with
one in the New Yorker or Pennsylvania in New York. On
each floor was a "key girl" who kept the room keys. As an
additional service, she would sew insignia, etc. on your
clothes for you.
The dining room served breakfast from 0800 to 1000, lunch
from 1200 to 1400, supper from 1800 to 2000. The food
was quite good and, while the portions were not too
generous, one could get seconds. Between meal hours, the
donut bar was open, where one could get donuts and coffee.
In the hotel lobby, there an information desk operated by
French women volunteers who speak English - and,
incidentally, have a good knowledge of the city.
Now to our first evening in Paris. Really no more exciting
than an evening in any large city. We went by metro
(subway) from Palais Royal to Pigalle. Pigalle is one of the
less desirable sections of Paris. We went to the Club Moulin
Rouge, which is described by some as a clip-joint. And it is.
A glass of orange juice to use as a chaser cost 80 francs
($1.60). A bottle of champagne 1000 francs ($20). Capt.
Miles and Lt. Parker, who is one of the engineer officers that
works with our infantry regiment, and I took in the floor
show and somehow acquired some very friendly girls.
No doubt you will wonder at this. Well, you need not, for
there is no woman shortage in Paris. One can walk the five
squares from the Hotel Louvre to the Opera and will be
stopped no less than fifteen times. In bars or clubs they
swarm about like flies. Their price is a package of cigarettes,
chocolate bars, or, if you insist, money.
About five came over to the table. We offered them drinks.
They accepted. In no time at all they had drunk all our
scotch. Even that was all right, but when they started to
quarrel among themselves as to which of them would take
which of us home with them and two girls came to blows,
we decided it was time to leave.
Sunday morning we got up at eight, had breakfast, and
went on a tour of the city. Saw the tomb of Napoleon at the
Hotel des Invalides, the Eifel Tower, the Louvre, Notre Dame,
Place de la Concorde (location of the Tate's and my
experience last summer), Arc de Triomphe, etc. Very
interesting tour.
In the afternoon Parker and I went to the opera, seeing
Rigoletto. The performance was quite good, but the settings
were positively out of this world. I've never seen anything as
good.
The opera house itself is reportedly the largest theater in the
world; certainly it is the most beautiful I've ever seen. Large
staircases, imposing chandeliers, excellent murals. Really
very impressive.
There's one thing though that really gets you, not only at
the opera but in all of the city. That is the emphasis on
tipping. Boy, they're really tip conscious.
Sunday evening we went to the Folies Bergere.
Monday morning I slept. In the afternoon, I ran into Marlene
Dietrich, and I mean ran into her. When going into the
officer's clothing store, she was coming out the door I was
going into. A violent collision, apologies, and she went on.
I didn't. I turned around to stare. They're not worth a
million dollars, but nearly!
In the evening, we made the rounds of the bars. The others
met girls to whom they took a fancy. I returned to the hotel
about midnight. (Damn it, why did I have to receive such
Puritanical rearing?)
Tuesday morning I did a little shopping at the Louvre
Department Store, through which one could stroll for hours.
In the afternoon I had my picture taken. Then back to here
in Germany.
Love, John
Although this letter gave a good description of my time in
Paris, it did not fully convey how I came to get the pass.
Before I returned to the 29th headquarters unwashed and
unshaven, the First Battalion had been in a difficult
situation, where it was receiving considerable German
artillery fire. We were down in a valley, and my radio was
unable to communicate directly with the 29th fire direction
center. The battalion, therefore, stationed two men with a
radio at the top of a hill behind us, to act as a relay. One
night I wanted to call for fire but was unable to contact the
relay radio. One of my men climbed the hill, to find both of
the men at the radio asleep.
My nerves already rather ragged, I became furious and went
the next morning to the 29th command post, where I raised
hell. Tommy sympathized with me and promised it would
not happen again. Evidently, however, after I left he and
others decided that I needed a rest. Hence the pass to Paris,
which shows that it can be useful to show your anger. Also,
that it does not always pay to be too neat.
The other point I did not make in my letters home was that
I managed to get through the days in Paris only by
swallowing a bottle of paregoric. While only a temporary
solution, it stopped my bodily functions for those important
three days.
I should also note that my casual comments about the
opera were unwarranted. Although a regular listener to the
Saturday Metropolitan Opera broadcasts before the war, I
had never actually seen one.
By the time of my Paris trip, my father was out of the
Army, and he and my mother were living in Aurora, Illinois.
In addition to discussing the war, my father wrote a letter
telling me the route to the Rhine he had taken after the
1918 Armistice. By coincidence, when I read the letter I was
sitting on a hill overlooking one of the towns he had been
through.
AL HEAD'S WOUNDS REQUIRE HIM TO GO TO THE REAR
Dear Dad, February 24, 1945, Germany
I'm glad you have been able to take a philosophical outlook
toward the Ardennes bulge. No doubt I should have a broad
enough horizon to do the same and may one day. But just
now I know it cost us four fights. One to get the territory
last fall, another in Luxembourg at the shoulder of the
drive, another in Luxembourg across the Sauer River, and
most recently our drive back into Germany. Each life lost
since last fall has seemed to me more than useless.
Your recitation of towns you were in during World War I in
part sounds like one I'd make, since some of them are my
old stomping grounds. Medernach, Luxembourg, for example,
where I spent the night before we crossed the Sauer. You
are wrong in assuming they haven't changed. We don't leave
much by the time we're through with them.
I was disappointed at going back to liaison work, as "3"
work was always the work into which I've wanted to get. Lt.
Col. Thomason, my artillery battalion commander, says that
Col. McKee, 8th Regiment commander, asked that I be sent
to him as liaison. Actually, battalion liaison is more
important, and Col. T told him he wouldn't do it. So at least
I can feel my services have not gone unnoted.
Col. T also said that I was supposed to be awarded a Silver
Star while in Paris, but since I was gone will get it next
presentation. It was for some deal about the breakout,
where they say I did something or other. Will send mother
the citation and medal.
Yours, John
Dear Dad, February 26, 1945, Germany
Certainly I can make no complaints about the frequency of
letters from both you and mother. But I fear that with both
of you taking up much of each others time soon, this may
decline. However, I hope not.
Your new home sounds fine. Thanks to both you and
mother for your invitations to come visit you. Will do my
best to keep the appointment at the government's earliest
convenience.
Thanks for the major leaves, though they did embarrass me
a bit by popping out of the letter in front of a group of
officers. Having been a captain six months now, it is still
difficult to see the next step. In my battalion, there are
several ahead of me.
Love, John
TASK FORCE RHINO AND LUNGE TOWARD THE RHINE
Not long after returning from Paris, we resumed our attack
to the east, with Adenau, a town half way to the Rhine, as
our objective. We were supposed to follow up on the 11th
Armored Division and clean up any forces it bypassed. The
11th, however, found the going difficult and several times
had to call on the 4th for assistance in overcoming German
resistance. Finally Task Force Rhino was formed,
commanded by assistant division commander Rodwell. After
a wild drive, the task force, which included the First
Battalion, entered Adenau on March 9. About that time we
heard that US forces had captured a bridge over the Rhine
at Remagen.
In the midst of all this, I found time to tell my parents my
view of how the war was going.
Dear Folks, March 6, 1945, Germany
Surely now with the British, Canadians, US 9th, and US
First Armies on the Rhine and threatening the whole
industrial area across from them, there is no value in the
Germans retaining that part of their country west of the
Rhine. Thus it would be my private guess that they will pull
out completely. To be sure, many things can develop in the
accomplishment of that, but my fear is that they will
succeed in extricating most of the army and we shall have
to fight them on the other side of the Rhine.
It's too good to be true that the government will pay my way
through school and will not have to use the money I have
been saving.
All my love, John
By the time the 4th reached Adenau on March 9, one
element or another of it had been in contact with the enemy
for 199 days. The joke then was that any division which
was in combat for a straight 200 days would be sent back
to the US. Another rumor was that we were to be sent to
the Pacific, but this was premature. Instead, we went first
to Luxembourg and then to France, to join the 7th Army.
From Luxembourg, I wrote a letter home describing how
closely my path on the attack to Adenau had come to the
one my father took in 1918.
Dear Folks, March 11, 1945, Luxembourg
You name them, dad, I've been there. Was in Willwerath.
Saw Steffeln. Went near Walsdorf. Sorry, didn't make the
Remagen push. Wish we had. It would have been a fairly
complete tour of your walk during World War I.
Glad to hear dad has had a good winter. Mine was
complicated by only one case of GIs, which I am now about
rid of and which kept me from my liaison work only two
days.
By the way, our S-3 was hurt in a vehicle accident recently,
and I'm Assistant S-3 while he's gone - probably a month.
The change of scenery should do me good.
Your son, John
This was a reference to Major Frank Duda, the battalion S-
3. He and Tommy had an auto accident on the dash to
Adenau. Tommy was able to return to the battalion in a few
days, but Duda never came back. Capt. George G.
Holochwost moved up to S-3, and I became his assistant,
the job I had longed for.
FLANNINGAN GETS HIS DISTINGUISHED SERVICE CROSS
Jim Flannigan was the only person in the 29th who got a
Distinguished Service Cross. The citation for his award,
which I had recommended, says, "On 1 December 1944 (he)
was serving as a radio operator of a forward observer
party...accompanying a rifle company of the 8th Infantry
Regiment during an assault on enemy positions in the
HURTGEN FOREST, Germany. When the company was cut
off and surrounded by strong enemy forces, (he) voluntarily
carried a message through the enemy lines, killing one
German and capturing another as he fought the way to the
Battalion Command Post."
As Blakeley pinned the medal on Jim, he said, "This is one
award that is still not given to everyone." When his aide
handed him my Silver Star, he smiled and said, "Well,
Ausland, I am sure you earned yours."
After the ceremony, I heard a journalist say to the division
press officer, "Let us know if Flannigan gets killed, so we
can do another story." Fortunately, Jim survived the war.
Another person involved in this episode, however, was not
so lucky. Not long after the ceremony, I saw Capt. Gilbert
A. Gammell, who had drafted the recommendation for my
award, ride by on a tank. He shouted and waved to me. A
few hours later, I heard he was dead.