battle of wingen sur moder operation nordwind

MILITARY MONOGRAPH 79

Battle of Wingen-sur-Moder

Operation Nordwind

Wallace Robert Cheves Colonel, Infantry,

U.S. Army (Retired)

Revised Edition edited by Steven K. Dixon

Merriam Press Bennington, Vermont

2008

— Battle of Wingen-sur-Moder —

— 2 —

First published in 2004 by the Merriam Press First published in 1978 privately by the author under the title

L’Operation Nordwind et Wingen-sur-Moder

Third Edition (2008)

Copyright © by Wallace R. Cheves Book design Copyright © 2008 by the Merriam Press Additional material copyright of named contributors.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied

in critical articles or reviews.

The views expressed are solely those of the author.

ISBN 978-1-4357-5738-7 (paperback) ISBN 978-1-4357-5727-1 (hardcover)

Printed in the United States of America.

This work was designed, produced, and published in

the United States of America by the

Merriam Press Bennington VT 05201

E-mail: [email protected]

Web site: merriam-press.com

Both the author and the Publisher welcome and encourage comments and corrections to the material appearing in this work.

Please send them to the Publisher at the above address.

The Merriam Press is always interested in publishing new manuscripts on military history, as well as reprinting previous works, such as reports, documents, manuals, articles and other material on military history topics.

For a copy of the current edition of the Merriam Press catalog describing dozens more Monographs, Memoirs, and Journals

send $1.00 (U.S. first class or foreign airmail delivery).

To order additional copies of this book visit the Merriam Press web site or write to the address above.


— 3 —

Dedication

Combat Infantryman Badge

Awarded to front line soldiers for exemplary conduct under enemy fire. An infantryman prefers this badge over any other award or decoration.

DEDICATED TO ALL

COMBAT INFANTRYMEN

Wherever they may be…

American Military Cemetery, Epinal, France.

Courtesy website of American Battlefield Monuments Commission

http://www.usabmc.com


— 4 —


— 4 —


Glossary

Able, etc. ................... Able, Baker, Charlie, Dog, Easy, Fox, George, How, Item, King, Love, and Mike, are the representatives of the letters from the Army’s phonetic alphabet, referring to com-panies

Ammo........................ Ammunition A & P......................... Ammunition and Pioneer platoon Armd. ........................ Armored AT.............................. Anti-tank BAR........................... Browning automatic rifle, 30 cal. Bazooka..................... AT rocket launcher Bn. ............................ Battalion (four companies and a headquar-

ters company) Burp gun.................... German fast-firing submachine gun Capt. ......................... Captain CG ............................. Commanding General Co. ............................ Company (4 platoons and headquarters) CO ............................. Commanding Officer Col. ........................... Colonel Comm ........................ Communications CP .............................. Command Post Div. ........................... Division (three regiments, artillery and spe-

cial troops) Ex or Exec ................. Executive Officer FA.............................. Field Artillery Gen. .......................... General GI............................... Government Issue, including basic soldier

— 5 —


— 6 —

HW ............................Heavy Weapons HE..............................High Explosive Hq. ............................Headquarters Inf. ............................ Infantry I & R .......................... Intelligence and Reconnaissance Lt.Col. .......................Lieutenant Colonel Maj. ...........................Major MG & LMG...............Machine gun and light (air-cooled) machine

gun M1..............................Standard Army rifle (semi-automatic Ga-

rand) OP ..............................Observation Post Pfc. ............................Private First Class Plat. ...........................Platoon (three squads) Pvt. ............................Private Red, etc. .....................Red, 1st Bn.; White, 2nd Bn.; Blue, 3rd Bn. Regt. ..........................Regiment S-1..............................Adjutant S-2.............................. Intelligence Officer S-3..............................Operations & Training Officer S-4..............................Supply Officer Sgt. ............................Sergeant Snafu..........................Situation normal, all fouled up S/Sgt. ........................Staff Sergeant T/Sgt. ........................Technical Sergeant TF ..............................Task Force TD..............................Tank Destroyer Tk. .............................Tank WP .............................White Phosphorus


Foreword to New Edition

HEN Lou Hoger (G/275), secretary of the 70th Infantry Division Association, sent me a copy of Col. Cheves’ book, L’operation Nordwind et Wingen-sur-Moder, I

immediately read the book and came away with the notion that this book needed a wider audience.

W It is the story of the battle of Wingen-sur-Moder, an important village leading to the Alsatian Plain. If German forces had cap-tured this town in the early days of Operation Nordwind, and had been able to release their reserve Panzer divisions into the plain, the war might have been lengthened. Thankfully, it didn’t happen. Colonel Cheves commanded the U.S. forces involved in the battle. The 2nd Bn. of the 274th, along with troops from the 276th and supporting elements, defeated two battalions of the battle-hardened 6th SS Mountain Div. (Nord). This book, along with the recently released book, Seven Days in January by Wolf Zoepf1, gives a complete picture of this important battle. I contacted Ray Merriam, owner and publisher of Merriam Press, asking him if he would be interested in reprinting this book. Sight unseen, he said yes. I assured him that it was an outstanding book and that he wouldn’t be disappointed.

— 7 —

The book was originally photocopied or mimeographed and distributed to 70th Div. veterans. The pictures did not look good

1 Seven Days in January by the late Wolf Zoepf. Herr Zoepf fought with

the 6th SS Mountain Division at Wingen. His book is a well balanced, objective view of the battle from the German side. Available from Aberjona Press, PO Box 629, Bedford PA 15522.


— 8 —

and text sometimes ran off the margins. With the help of computer technology, the text, pictures and maps have all been enhanced. We had to maintain a certain page count for the book so all at-tempts were made to keep the original book intact. All text from the original version has been retained. Spelling and grammar errors have been corrected. Of the items changed from the original version, the “Where Are They Now” and the many pictures of the meeting of 70th and 6th SS troops many years after the war have been eliminated. It was felt that family members of the soldiers involved in the battle would be more than happy to see their relatives mentioned in the text. Since the original version came out in 1979, many of those alive in 1979 have since passed away. The text of the meeting of veterans of the 70th and the 6th SS has been retained. The words are effective without the pictures. Most of the pictures were located and credit is cited when known. A few could not be found and hence are not in the new version. The maps, originally done by Col. Cheves in black and white, have been colorized and cleaned up by Matt Kennedy, an Associ-ate Member of the 70th Infantry Division Association. Matt’s grandfather, Noah Kennedy, served with E/276. [Publisher’s Note: Regrettably, the printed versions of this new edition cannot repro-duce the maps in color; the version supplied as an Adobe Acrobat PDF file on CD disk display the maps in color.] Many thanks must go to the widow of Col. Cheves, Mary Grayce Morland and Cecil Cheves, Col. Cheves’ son. They gra-ciously gave their permission to a “stranger” to allow me to pro-ceed with the update of the book and send it to Merriam Press. Thanks also goes to Fred Cassidy, former CO of G/274, who helped me in contacting Mrs. Morland and has been a supporter of this project from the start.


— 9 —

And finally to those members of the 70th Infantry Division As-sociation who backed me all the way to see this project through. It is hoped that after reading this book you may want to explore the many battles fought in the northeast corner of France, relegated to the forgotten pages of history. The soldiers of these forgotten battles deserve to have their story told. A selected reading list to get you started is provided at the end of this book.

—Steven K. Dixon Editor, 3rd Edition

Webmaster and Honorary Member 70th Infantry Division Association

April 1st, 2002


— 10 —


— 11 —

Contents

Dedication................................................................................................. 3

Glossary.................................................................................................... 5

Foreword to New Edition .......................................................................... 7

Forewords

The American Perspective ............................................................... 13

The German Perspective ................................................................. 15

Introduction ............................................................................................. 17

Operation Nordwind................................................................................ 21

The Battle for Wingen-sur-Moder ........................................................... 61

Infantry Attacks Through the Village..................................................... 107

The Final Day ....................................................................................... 157

Aftermath and Reconciliation................................................................ 181

Appendices

Report by Samuel B. Conley, CO, 274th Inf. Regt......................... 193

Distinguished Unit Citation ............................................................. 205

Killed in Action................................................................................ 207

Wounded in Action ......................................................................... 209

Unit Report, 2-4 January 1945....................................................... 215

Unit Report, 6-7 January 1945....................................................... 219

Bibliography .......................................................................................... 223

Photographs ......................................................................................... 227

Maps ..................................................................................................... 237


— 12 —


— 12 —


Foreword

The American Perspective

PERATION Nordwind, launched December 31, 1944, was Hitler’s last major offensive. Its’ objective—take Alsace Lorraine, split the U.S. Seventh and Third Armies, link up

with the Germans in the Colmar Pocket and continue south, rout-ing the French Army.

O On December 31, 1944, 2nd Bn. of the elite 6th Mountain Div. attacked Wingen-sur-Moder in Alsace Lorraine and took some 200 POWs, members of the 45th Division. At that time the 275th and 276th Inf. Regts. of the 70th Div. were committed to halt the Ger-man advance, re-take Wingen and free the American GIs. The 274th Inf. Regt. of the 70th moved in to fill the gap between the 275th and 276th, on January 4th, 1945. On January 5th advanced to the edge of Wingen-sur-Moder and on January 6th began an attack of the German forces. On the evening of January 6th, the Germans launched a coun-terattack, which was repulsed by G Co., 274th. On the morning of January 7th, the 200-plus American prison-ers were freed and Wingen-sur-Moder cleared of all German sol-diers, and the German offensive in that area brought to a halt. The 2nd Bn., 274th Inf. was awarded the Presidential Unit Cita-tion for its’ actions in Wingen—almost unheard of for a unit in its initial combat.

—Fred Cassidy, CO, G/274 May 26, 2002

— 13 —


— 14 —


Foreword

The German Perspective

HE few of us who took part in and survived the battle for Wingen in January 1945, and are still living are glad to comply with Steve Dixon’s wish to contribute a foreword to

Col. Cheves’ book L’opération Nordwind et Wingen-sur-Moder. At that time we were with the 13th Company of the SS-Mountain Inf. Regt. 12 “Michael Gaissmair.” Colonel Cheves’ lively and im-pressive account of the battle describes the ferocious fight of his soldiers, the hardship they suffered, the lives and health they sacri-ficed, and the final success they achieved. For us it was a desperate and unremitting fight for three days at a forlorn place by the border of the Reich. In the end, when hope was lost, we sneaked out the way we had come in, leaving behind many dead and wounded comrades.

T

It was a great experience and a symbol of hope for a future peaceful world when, 46 years later in September 1991, we met with our former adversaries of the 70th U.S. Inf. Div. at the Hotel Wenk in Wingen. There, we sat together and talked. Our comrade, Wolf T. Zoepf, introduced the American and German participants of the battle to one another. One veteran of the 276th U.S. Inf. Regt. described in a casual manner how he got to know the Ger-mans for the first time at 0400 hours, January 4th; his rather close acquaintance was full of toughness but also of fairness. Both sides were convinced to fight for a just cause.

— 15 —


— 16 —

Now, reading Col. Cheves’ account, we come across the name of the soldier Morningstar. At that time, we also had a soldier Morgenstern in the radio and signal platoon of our III. Battalion. So, two men of the same, most unusual family name were destined to fight each other on opposite sides, moving steadily toward each other, as the Colonel writes, from far distant points of the globe in a series of marches as though drawn by an invisible force. It is our hope that this fighting, bleeding and dying at Wingen, so realistically described by the author, will be understood as a se-rious warning of war and as a call for every endeavour after a more peaceful world, a goal to which our children and grandchildren may contribute with all their strength.

—Linus Maier, Bad Peterstal Karl Neumer, Nürnberg

April 28, 2002


Introduction

HIS is primarily a story about an American infantry battal-ion, the 2nd Bn., 274th Inf., 70th Div., which saw its first front line combat during the German “Operation Nordwind,”

known to the American Press as the “Bitche Offensive.” T Operation Nordwind was the final major offensive by the Ger-man Army. It was launched southward against the U.S. Seventh Army on New Year’s Eve, 1944. The deepest penetration was at Wingen-sur-Moder, France, where it was stopped by troops of the recently arrived 70th Infantry (Trailblazer) Division. Its objective was to isolate the Allied forces east of the Vosges Mountains and to recapture Strasbourg, the political and metropoli-tan capital of Alsace, France; and at the same time to divert pres-sure by the American Third (Patton) Army away from the Ger-man’s main drive through the Ardennes of Belgium toward Ant-werp. Operation Nordwind was actually the second phase of the Ar-dennes-Alsace campaign planned personally by the Fuehrer, Adolf Hitler, with the design of slicing through the Allied Armies in a desperate effort to force a negotiated peace. The first phase, the Ardennes Offensive (Battle of the Bulge) was a massive counter attack launched on 16 December with 17 German divisions. Using the German code name “Watch on the Rhine,” this devastating counterblow had split the American and British Armies and was still in a critical stage. Hitler was confident that the Alsace “Operation Nordwind” would be successful against the extraordinarily thin American de-

— 17 —


— 18 —

fenses, where there were not sufficient troops to withstand a de-termined attack. However, the Germans split their forces and even-tually attacked from three different directions instead of concen-trating their drive southward toward a breakthrough, which was the initial purpose, to permit their reserve motorized divisions to ex-ploit the Alsace Plains. Thus, they were not able to take advantage of their initial suc-cesses in the rugged, heavily-wooded mountainous terrain, allow-ing sufficient time for the American VI Corps to shift forces to stop the advance in the frozen, snow-covered wilderness. The exception was at Wingen-sur-Moder where two battalions of the elite 6th SS Mountain Div. (Nord) moved rapidly through the unguarded mountains to capture the small village. They fought desperately for three days, waiting for other German units to reach them. There were no more troops available, since the Germans were also attacking westward across the Rhine and northward from Colmar. The final outcome of “Operation Nordwind” received little no-tice and had small impact on the overall strategy of World War II, but to the men who survived the bitter battles and the frequent overnight shifting of troops in the frigid mountains, it seemed like a lifetime; which it was to the many thousands who were buried in the American Memorial Cemeteries at St. Avold and Epinal, France.

FATES OF WAR The American 70th Inf. (Trailblazer) Div. was apparently destined to clash on the battlefield with the German 6th SS Mountain Div. (Nord). In early November 1944, the 70th Div. departed Fort Leo-nard Wood, Missouri, en-route to Camp Myles Standish, Massa-chusetts, and embarked for overseas combat duty. At the same time, the 6th SS Mountain Div. withdrew from Finland and headed southward for duty on the Western Front.


— 19 —

Thus, from distant points on the globe, in a series of marches—by foot, ship, rail and truck—as though drawn by an invisible force, these two fighting units moved steadily toward each other, resulting in an inevitable frontline confrontation in Alsace, France.

FORWARD: AT THE FRONT Oberbronn (Alsace), France—10:00 a.m., 8 January 1945 Every bone in my body ached while I stood there at the en-trance to the convent, waiting for my infantry battalion to arrive. I brushed the snow away from my forehead, and closed my eyes to relieve the sinus pain. It didn’t help. Snow drifted down around the cold, bleak walls as I watched our convoy of huge trucks come to a slow, sliding halt, the ex-hausts from their engines panting out a white cloud of vapor. My men were huddled under blankets in the uncovered vehicles, cramped together after the long, all night ride. Slowly, with stiff legs they climbed down, burdened with guns and equipment, some slipping on the ice-packed road. In a little while, they filed past into the cold buildings. Some glanced at me, and our eyes met briefly, but it was an indifferent stare. Nothing seemed to matter, except to get some rest, which we had not had in five nights. I was proud of these men, and felt a close attachment, plus a responsibility. A few of them were wounded and should have been evacuated. In a way, we were like orphans. We had been fighting as a separate battalion without our supporting troops. In two days of battle at Wingen, the fighting strength of my battalion had dimin-ished by over 30 percent. We had been in combat only two weeks, and already the war had us confused. A few days ago, we had been in defensive positions along the Rhine River when suddenly we were urgently needed elsewhere to stop a German breakthrough.


— 20 —

We didn’t know until then that the German Army was on the offensive in the Seventh Army area. The rest of our regiment had. gone to other places to stem the enemy advance; so here we were, alone, in this strange village. There were many questions, I looked at the map and tried to figure out the answers. The names of the nearby towns were new and meaningless. We had no idea where the enemy was; and since there was the possibility of another swift thrust, we posted security and then tried to get some rest. At least, for one night, we had a haven. The war seemed far away, and none of us who survived will ever forget the angelic nuns who served us steaming hot tea shortly after we arrived. After our overnight respite, the hectic turmoil of war continued on relentlessly—seemingly endless. It would be years later before I learned the full story of what had happened. We had been snared in the full fury of the German offensive named “Nordwind.”


Operation Nordwind

INGEN-SUR-MODER, located in the northeast corner of France near the German border (see Map, page 15) was the focal point of the final German major offensive

in the west of World War II. It was named “Operation Nordwind.” W

This small picturesque village, nestled in the Lower Vosges Mountains of Alsace, France, was the scene of almost total de-struction: a wreckage of charred buildings and burned military ve-hicles and equipment; its streets and ditches were littered with dead soldiers, frozen stiff, sprawled grotesquely in the snow. Many re-mained preserved in life-like positions of sitting, crouching, or standing. As one soldier remarked: “It looked like a wax museum.” The majority of the dead wore the gray-green uniform of the German 6th SS Mountain (Nord) Division. Most of the khaki forms were from the American 70th Inf. (Trailblazer) Division. In the cel-lar of the Catholic Church were over 200 American Prisoners of War, most of them from the American 45th Inf. (Thunderbird) Di-vision. The story began on Christmas Eve, 1944, when German Gen-eralmajor Alfred Philippi reported to Headquarters LXXXIX Inf. Corps at Gleisweiler, Germany, where he was informed that his 361st Volks Grenadier Div. was to launch a major attack from its present positions near Equelshardt at 2300 on 31 December as part of the left (East) group of the German First Army (see map, page 17). Operation Nordwind was to be a joint assault by three Infantry Corps, as follows: the LXXXIX on the left; the XC in the center;

— 21 —


— 22 —

and the XIII SS on the right. Philippi’s 361st VG Div. was to cap-ture Wingen, Wimmenau, and the mountain exit at Ingwiller, where motorized units would reinforce the attack. The advance would then continue across the Alsatian Plain to re-establish con-tact with the German Nineteenth Army which still held French ter-ritory west of the Rhine River at Colmar. Attacking at the same time, on his left, would be the 256th Volks Grenadier Div. (recently arrived from Holland). Its objectives: Philippsbourg and Dambach. On his immediate right, the XC Corps would attack with the 257th Volks Grenadier Div. advancing along the east side of the Bitche-Sarreinsberg road. The 559th VG Div. would be on its right. The XIII SS Corps would be the right (West) group, spear-headed by the 17th SS Panzer Grenadier Div., supported by the 19th VG Div. and the 36th VG Div. on the far right. In Army reserve, the 21st Panzer Div. and the 25th Panzer Grenadier Div. would be available to exploit a breakthrough. In addition, the elite 6th SS Mountain Div. was in transport from Finland and would be assigned to the operation. This Offensive would be against the American Seventh Army, which was stretched across a wide defensive line, depleted of troops which had been withdrawn and shifted westward. Defensive positions had been abandoned, and large areas of the snow covered forests and hills were guarded by American reconnaissance troops. To the Germans, it was obvious that the Americans were ne-glecting this sector. Since 16 December, when the Ardennes Of-fensive had commenced, enemy attacks had stopped; and there had been reduced artillery and air activity. Interviews with captured Americans disclosed that only a few troops held positions opposite the front of the 361st Division. There were many gaps in the line through which patrols roamed far behind the enemy positions. One patrol observed at Philippsbourg (3 km behind the front) a country fair atmosphere, with American soldiers participating.


— 23 —

The morale of the German soldier, since the Ardennes Offen-sive, had shown much improvement. The men were impressed that the German Wehrmacht was capable of such a concentration of offensive strength. On the morning of 27 December, the (German) Commanding Generals and Division Commanders were ordered to Army Group G Headquarters at Wachenheim. From there, they drove to a meet-ing with Adolf Hitler at the Führer’s Headquarters. Hitler empha-sized the importance of “Operation Nordwind”—he was confident of its certain success against the extraordinarily thin Alsace Front, which would automatically bring about the collapse of the Ameri-can Third Army’s threat to the German main offensive through the Ardennes. He then had each individual division commander give him a personal report on the condition of his division and its readi-ness for the attack. A decisive factor in the success of this attack would be the element of surprise. The Germans hoped by silently moving for-ward on New Year’s Eve, they would catch the Americans at a particular time when an attack was least expected. Strict secrecy measures were ordered. Only ranking General Staff Officers would be informed of the plans. Troops would be told that they were preparing for an operation in another sector. All instructions would be carried out under the heading: “Reorganiza-tion for Commitment Elsewhere.” There would be no movement during daylight hours and no local reconnaissance. The latter would have no effect on the 361st VG Div. since it already had a thorough knowledge of this terrain. Since it seemed that the Americans did not expect an attack, the Germans felt justified in pulling troops out of the front lines for reorganization and training, leaving security detachments as a cov-ering force. Reinforcements were received for the reorganization, and during the training period, emphasis was placed on assault -type attacks in wooded and mountainous terrain.


— 24 —

Despite these precautions by the Germans, the American Sev-enth Army (commanded by Lt.Gen. A. M. Patch) had been fore-warned, troops had been alerted, and plans made for the shifting of defenses. It was true that the Seventh Army was over extended and had too few troops to hold their positions against a determined attack. Its front on 30 December 1944 was far flung across the French border, extending about 84 miles westward from the Rhine River to St. Avold, a few miles southwest of Saarbrucken. In addition, there was a flank of about 40 miles southward along the Rhine. This flank was guarded by newly-arrived Task Force Herren (70th Inf. Div.) and Task Force Linden (42nd Inf. Div.), each com-posed of three infantry regiments whose supporting units had not yet arrived in the combat area. The Seventh Army was threatened from three different direc-tions: the Saarbrucken-Bitche area, the Black Forest region east of the Rhine, and from the Colmar bridgehead to the south. It was known there was a build-up of enemy forces in all three places. General Patch’s Army was further handicapped with its de-fenses in that all priorities went to the 12th Army Group to the north which was engaged in the Ardennes Offensive. Besides shift-ing westward to assume additional frontage, two of his divisions, the 36th Inf. and 12th Armd. with newly arrived XXI Corps, were designated by Gen. Eisenhower as SHAEF Reserve, ready to move out on short notice. Reinforcements could not be expected, and re-placements were almost non-existent. Under these circumstances, the Seventh Army readied itself as best possible, it was prepared to yield ground if necessary. Reserve battle positions were planned. The most serious concern was the possibility of an enemy at-tack on the left flank, west of Bitche, If successful, a breakthrough could result in the isolation of all forces east of the Vosges Moun-tains.


— 25 —

The XV Corps (commanded by Maj.Gen. W. H. Haislip) held this left (west) sector, from St. Avold to Bitche, with the 100th, 44th, and 103rd Inf. Divs. in line. The 106th Cavalry Group patrolled the left flank adjacent to Patton’s Third Army. Task Force Harris (63rd Inf. Div.) was in reserve along with the 2nd French Armd. Div. which was moving into the area from the Colmar sector. The VI Corps (commanded by Maj.Gen. E. H. Brooks) was in the right sector with only two divisions, the 79th and the 45th, along a meandering front of over 40 miles, from Bitche to the Rhine. Both of these infantry divisions had crossed the German border and were prepared to assault the Siegfried Line. The 79th was on the extreme right in the vicinity of Lauterbourg. To the left of the 45th Div., there was a 10-mile open flank be-tween it and the 100th Inf. Div. of the XV Corps. This area was guarded by Task Force Hudelson, composed primarily of troops from the 14th Armd. Division. The bulk of the 14th Armd. was in VI Corps reserve. This particular 10-mile sector was in the lower Vosges Moun-tains, and was located directly in front of the German 361st VG Div., and also in the path of the planned offensives of both the 256th and 257th VG Divisions. On 30 December, VI Corps directed the 14th Armd. Div. to be prepared to move to Phalsbourg as a counter-attacking force in event of an enemy breakthrough in the XV sector to the west. At the same time, the 275th Inf. Regt., Task Force Herren (commanded by Brig.Gen. Thomas W. Herren) was relieved from its positions along the Rhine and attached to the 45th Div. for movement to Niederbronn, from where it would proceed on 1 January to relieve elements of 14th Armd. Div., Task Force Hudel-son, and also provide additional forces to the 45th Div. wherever needed.


— 26 —

Meanwhile, the German forces had completed preparations for Operation Nordwind replacements had been trained; improved weapons and equipment brought up to strength. The German First Army was ready for its duel with the Ameri-can Seventh Army; it would also be a battle of men against the elements. The freezing weather and the rugged mountainous ter-rain would be a formidable enemy for both sides. General Philippi’s 361st VG Div. had five infantry battalions available. His plan of attack was basically as follows:

• 953rd Inf. Regt. (reinforced) on the right—capture Bannstein, push toward Fourneau-Neuf, and drive on to Reipertswiller.

• 952nd Inf. Regt. (reinforced) on the left—take Baerenthal. • 951st Inf. Regt.—responsible for traffic control, assisted by

361st Div. MP detachment. The 1st Bn., 951st, to be attached to the 953rd Regt. upon its arrival, after relieved from posi-tions in the 256th Div. sector.

• 361st Panzer Jaguar Bn.—be ready to assist infantry on call. The right adjacent unit, the 257th VG Div. was to take Mouter-house and push on to Althorn. The left adjacent unit, the 256th VG Div.—capture Leischbach and Philippsbourg and then later to Obermuhlthal. Dusk was settling on New Year’s Eve when the German troops all along the line moved forward into their attack positions, and then waited for zero hour. It was one hour before midnight when they advanced silently into the starry winter night. Terrain features were clearly outlined against the white, frozen background. This favored the attackers. Advanced spearheads pushed through the forward security lines of the Americans without a shot being fired. Quietly, German soldiers from three divisions moved cau-tiously toward the defense positions held by Task Force Hudelson.


— 27 —

Task Force Hudelson (commanded by Col. Daniel H. Hudel-son) was formed on 21 December by VI Corps to fill a 10 mile gap on its left front, next to the XV Corps. For ten days, these men from 14th Armd. had been preparing defenses in the frozen, snow covered ground; the 62nd Armd. Inf. Bn. on the right; the 94th Cav. Sq. in the center; attached 117th Cav. Recon. Sq. on the left. In support were artillery, mortar, tank de-stroyer, and engineer units. The troops were spaced so thinly that it was impossible to have a continuous defense line; nevertheless every effort was made to fortify this sector as best possible. The weather was miserable. It rained and it snowed, but the work went on, night and day. Ma-chine gun emplacements were dug; barbed wire placed in front of trenches; outposts and listening posts established; trip flares and anti-personnel mines made ready; and road blocks set up. On New Year’s Eve, they were warned that the enemy would launch an attack that night. Anxiously, they waited. The 62nd Armd. Inf. Bn. was also waiting for the 275th Inf. Regt., 70th Div., which was to relieve them on New Year’s Day. The Germans came first! A trip flare burst into the night air in front of Company A’s outpost, north of Philippsbourg. There, 50 yards away, was a Ger-man patrol from the 256th Div., crawling across the snow in white camouflage suits. Their guns were inside their clothing to keep from freezing. Now, they pulled them out. In an instant, there was the chatter of machine guns, and the battle was on! The Germans charged, firing automatic weapons, yelling and screaming like madmen: “Die Yankee bastards! Gangster bitches!” At the same time, north of Bannstein, Company C’s outpost was surrounded immediately by Germans from the 361st Division. After a brief fight, the outpost pulled back to the company com-mand post at Bannstein.


— 28 —

Captain William T. Long, CO of Company I, 275th Inf., was on the scene with two of his men, having arrived about 10:30 p.m. on a reconnaissance for the planned relief the next day. He recalls the action:

At exactly 12:00 midnight, a noisy fire-fight broke out in Charlie Company’s front areas. A forward platoon leader called the Captain (Trammell) on the phone and reported, “the enemy, in all white uniforms, is advancing on our po-sitions under heavy small arms and machine gun fire:” The Captain replied, “Blow them to Hell.” With that outburst, he replaced the phone, quoted the conversation to me, and headed for the basement. Left alone in the CP, we three 275th soldiers struck a trot for the forward areas only to be met almost immedi-ately by a mass of American soldiers in full retreat. We immediately saw the hopelessness of the situation and turned back toward the large, two-story stone-house CP. The whole countryside was aflame and it was almost like daylight from the burning barns, small houses, fences, etc. We began receiving our first experience under “Screeming Meemie” and “Burp Gun” fire. The enemy had entrenched itself in the abandoned foxholes of the Charlie Company forward platoons to enjoy good cover for their continued assault. We reached the CP which had almost filled with the re-treating soldiers (many more had run right past it), and ran inside. Both floors of the house had many large windows which were occupied by men firing out in the direction of the “bon fires” which were silhouetting the enemy soldiers. My two men had their own M1. I had a .45 pistol and a “puny little carbine” which I set aside, and borrowed an M1 from a recently wounded soldier (there were many avail-able from the same source). There was a great supply of ammunition and grenades in the basement, and carrying parties were organized to keep us supplied. The grenades


— 29 —

were very effective and excellent for throwing from the large windows. In the midst of the battle, a Lieutenant (Uriel Ridings) from the supporting Engineers was carried in with very se-rious stomach wounds from artillery which was falling all around the CP. We placed him in the basement under sev-eral warm blankets and the aid men from Charlie Company made him as comfortable as possible. The fight continued throughout the night at a reduced intensity until well after daylight. About that time, Ameri-can soldiers with several medics arrived behind the CP in weapons carriers to evacuate the wounded. It was a perfect display of precision teamwork. The accompanying machine gunners immediately set up their guns at the rear corners of the stone house and began rapid fire to the front and flanks, momentarily holding their fire while the litter bearers en-tered the CP. They repeated this procedure to allow the lit-ter bearers to load the wounded onto the weapons carriers. The Lieutenant with the stomach wounds begged to be left to the mercy of the enemy because he was suffering un-bearable pains; however we picked him up with the rest, until all the wounded were loaded. The carriers were pulling away when the building re-ceived a direct hit from a tank on the outskirts of the town, taking off part of the roof. Everyone fled to whatever salva-tion could be found in the rear. The three of us ran and walked for about 20 minutes, found our jeep hidden in the woods, and headed for Philippsbourg, arriving there around 4:00 P.M. on 1 January. Orders awaited me from the Third Battalion Commander to move Company I on a night patrol at 9:00 P.M.

While the battle at the company CP was in progress, other Company men were behind walls, buildings, and wood piles, firing every weapon they had at the advancing Germans, holding them off during the hours of darkness.


— 30 —

In the early morning, enemy tanks maneuvered into positions at the edge of town and commenced firing high velocity, flat trajec-tory shells directly into the American defenses. Methodically, the tank fire destroyed the buildings, one by one. By 11:30, Bannstein was surrounded, and the men started pull-ing out in small groups and headed across the wooded hills to Baerenthal, leaving vehicles behind. Company A, 125th Engineers, was at Fourneau-Neuf when the battle erupted. Help was needed; so they were ordered into action south of Bannstein. Captain Robert R. Knight told his officers: “Here’s the deal! We’re spread mighty thin. That’s why we’re being used for infan-try. The 3rd Plat. will go up the left road; the 2nd Plat. up the right road toward Bannstein. Dig in, and in case the bastards come, hold ‘em. The 1st Plat. will send one squad up each road to prepare demolitions, and one squad along west road to Mouterhouse. It’s now 0020, Move quickly.” On the west road, Sgt. Joseph Reesor had led his squad up to a ridge line. It was beginning to get daylight, and Reesor had a good view of the terrain. About 1000 yards to his front he could see the double apron barbed-wire fence that they had put up two days ago. It had changed considerably. Under it and hanging in it were dead and dying Germans. Some were hanging limply, some moved, and some lay and screamed. They were covered with a light coat of new fallen snow, Scattered .for yards on each side were helmets, guns, bodies, and all the debris of war. Meanwhile, the 3rd Plat. had been ambushed while moving forward on the left road. Following behind them was Sgt. William God-frey’s demolition squad, Godfrey looked at his watch. It was 0055. “Hell of a way to start off the New Year,” he muttered. His half-track moved slowly up the icy hill. He thought he heard small arms fire. Without warning, a sledge hammer blow


— 31 —

struck his right shoulder, and the night air was pierced with the swishing sound of an enemy burp gun “Brrrrp…Brrrrp.” “Rat-tat-tat-tat,” answered the gun from his own vehicle, and then it stopped. The half-track slipped over with a crash and settled on its side. All was quiet. Three of Godfrey’s men had been thrown clear of the wreck-age. Wounded and covered with blood, they managed to make it back to the CP where they gasped out the story. Godfrey was left lying unconscious in the snow, his legs pinned beneath the vehicle. It was some time later when he began to regain his senses. His first thought had been one of extreme cold. He turned his head and tried to move his body. The move-ment brought a pain to his right shoulder; otherwise his upper body seemed to be all right. His legs were heavy, felt as though they were anchored in concrete under the half-track. They didn’t hurt; they were numb. Most of his clothes were gone; the Germans had stripped him except for his pants. Looking around, he counted four of his squad lying in various positions. He wondered what had happened to the rest. He could see what had happened to the man closest to him. He had a bullet hole between his eyes, and was stripped even to his shoes. Up the road, he could hear sounds of digging, and once in awhile a voice that sounded like “gut.” The sergeant found a trench knife, and started digging his legs out. He dug until there were blisters on his hands. The digging warmed him and started the pain in his legs. A slight noise to his rear startled him. It was Lt. Dillard with reinforcements from the 540th Engineers who were moving forward to prepare defenses along the ridge line, Godfrey was rescued, and the Engineers con-tinued on. It was nearly daylight when they finished preparing the line. At dawn, the Germans attacked.


— 32 —

The Engineers made a valiant effort to stop the enemy surge, but eventually they were no match against the superior forces, sup-ported by tanks and heavy artillery concentrations. That afternoon, the tired Engineers rode their remaining vehi-cles back to Reipertswiller. In addition to the wounded, thirty six men were still missing in action. The German 953rd Regt. moved into Fourneau-Neuf about 1700. During this time, in the west sector, beginning at midnight, savage skirmishes raged all through the forests, Trip flares bright-ened the darkness again and again to show that the woods were full of Germans. The 117th Cavalry on the extreme left received the full impact of an assault by the 257th V.G. Div. and fell back, exposing the left flank of the 94th Cavalry Squadron, which was also pushed back by the momentum of the enemy’s drive. By 0630, troops were falling back to their secondary positions, After a series of hard-fought delaying actions, they were ordered to withdraw through the 19th Armd. Inf. Bn. which had come up from reserve positions to help stop the attack. These reserve forces from B and C Companies, 19th Armd. Inf. Bn., had been sent to Mouterhouse to restore the lines north of that town, but the Germans launched an attack behind them! A with-drawal was ordered, which resulted in complete confusion. Infan-trymen, engineers, tankers, cavalrymen, and tank destroyers were all using the same narrow roads, skidding and sliding as the track-vehicles slipped on the slick, steep slopes. It was chaos, like a nightmare. Eventually, the vehicles and foot soldiers made it back to Sarreinsberg. Over on the right, north of Phillipsbourg, both A and B Cos, 62nd Armd. Inf. Bn., had been battling all night long from their dug-in positions, holding off repeated assaults by the German 256th Division. Enemy mortar and artillery fire, bursting in the trees,


— 33 —

slashed into the log and earth coverings of the fox holes, but both companies held their ground. During the night, however, the enemy infiltrated behind, forc-ing them alternately to withdraw to temporary defenses outside Philippsbourg. At dawn, the attack resumed. By now, the Ameri-cans were low on ammunition and were desperate. Communi-cations were out and they had the hopeless knowledge that they were outnumbered, out-gunned, and almost surrounded. In the meantime, Col. Hudelson had urgently requested assis-tance. His request was granted, and two units from the 14th Armd., (Co. A of the 25th Tk. Bn. and the 19th Armd. Inf. Bn.) were sent as reinforcements. One platoon of tanks from Company A was dispatched to Philippsbourg to bolster the hard pressed infantry. Their added fire-power turned the tide of battle. The Germans began to surren-der; and A and B Companies, 62nd Armd. Inf. Bn., were able to protect Philippsbourg until they were relieved by the 3rd Bn., 275th Inf. Regt., which moved into the town around 1700 that day. By noon on January 1, Task Force Hudelson’s command post in Baerenthal had been surrounded on three sides and was receiv-ing hostile artillery and small arms fire. The roads to Phillipsbourg and Mouterhouse had been cut by the enemy; telephone lines were out; and radio contact was not working. Company A of the 19th Armd. Inf. had arrived to assist in the defense of the headquarters which was threatened with complete encirclement and capture. The German attack on Baerenthal by the 952nd Regt. had pro-ceeded on schedule. During the right they had moved without op-position to the heights overlooking the town. Patrols observed strong American forces which seemed ready to put up considerable resistance; therefore it was decided to wait until the heavy weapons could be moved into position to support the attack. Moving them


— 34 —

up was a slow process because first it was necessary to clear the roads of mines and obstacles. The attack was postponed until noon. Although delayed, that attack attained some success. Supported by the entire division artillery, the German forces swept the west side and captured Fischerhof immediately, but Baerenthal itself was still holding out. By that time, American tanks from the reserve Company A, 25th Tk. Bn., had arrived on the scene and were launching a counter-attack. Moving slowly over the frozen terrain, they scat-tered and demoralized the German attack forces. Frustrated, the CO of the 952nd planned another attack after dark, but insisted that he needed the support of the 361st Div. as-sault-gun company before he could accomplish the mission. Gen-eral Philippi needed these guns for the more important mission in the decisive direction of Reipertswiller; thus it was with great re-luctance that he released them for commitment at Baerenthal. Eventually, these “precious” guns arrived; and with their sup-port, Baerenthal was taken about 2300 after a short battle. By then, headquarters of Task Force Hudelson had withdrawn to Reipertswiller, four long miles to the southwest. As a task force, its mission was completed. It had suffered many casualties, but had inflicted countless more upon the enemy. Furthermore, it had de-layed the German offensive all along its front, stopping it com-pletely from capturing Philippsbourg. At dusk on 1 January, Task Force Hudelson was relieved as a combat force. The 275th Inf. Regt. assumed responsibility for its area from Baerenthal to Dambach. New Year’s Day, 1945, had been a frantic one for the Seventh Army. Late in the day, threatened with a collapse of its front, the Army Command Post hastily withdrew from Saverne to Luneville. As expected, its west sector held by the XV Corps had been subjected to a ferocious attack by four German divisions, spear-headed by the 17th SS Panzer Grenadier Division. Other enemy


— 35 —

units identified were: 559th, 36th, and 19th Volks Grenadier Divi-sions. The American 44th Inf. Div. was hit the hardest - between Saareguemines and Rimling - and was driven back; however, it was able to regroup with fresh troops and halt the enemy, inflicting bloody losses. The XV Corps’ right flank was exposed when the 257th V.G. Div. drove through Task Force Hudelson to capture Mouterhouse and push on toward Althorn and Sarreinsberg, forcing the 100th Div. to bend southward to meet this threat. By the end of the day, the Germans had been unable to make much progress against the concentration of XV Corps’ forces west of the Vosges, forcing them to change plans. It was reported that the reserve 21st Panzer Div., the most important mobile unit of the German First Army, was shifting eastward toward Bitche, which indicated that the Germans planned to exploit their initial successes against the lightly-held left flank of the VI Corps. Most critical was the eastern sector where the VI Corps was on the defensive for the first time since the Anzio beachhead in Italy during the early months of 1944. There were huge gaps in the heavily wooded Hardt Mountains of the Lower Vosges. There were no ready reserves except armored units of the 14th Armd. Div., and they were needed in case of an enemy breakthrough. Be-sides, the rugged terrain was not suitable for tanks. These self-propelled vehicles were not designed for employment on icy-slick, narrow, winding roads with steep inclines, and bordered by dense forests. Infantry foot-soldiers were needed desperately. The only possible solution for the VI Corps was to deplete the lines held by the 45th and 79th Inf. Divs., withdrawing various forces from these two units who were already over-extended. Thus, on 1 January orders were issued for the shifting of some infantry


— 36 —

units to the vulnerable Wingen-Wimmenau area along the Moder River. 1800, 1 January. At the 361st VG Command Post, Gen. Philippi was satisfied with the first day of attack. The enemy had been dealt a heavy blow, and the road from Fourneau-Neuf to Reipertswiller seemed clear. It was important to exploit this opportunity with all possible means before the Americans could bring up reserves. On his right, the 257th Div. had advanced correspondingly and had taken Mouterhouse. But, on his left, the 256th Div.’s attack had been halted, leaving that area open. For that reason the 1st Bn. of the 952nd would remain in Baerenthal to protect that flank. About 1900, Col. Franz Schreiber (commander of the 12th Regt., 6th SS Mountain Div. reported to Gen. Philippi, who had been expecting him, since Corps had advised that this regiment would be attached upon arrival. Colonel Schreiber informed Philippi that two of his battalions (1st and 3rd) had reached Equelshardt and that the rest of his com-mand was about to arrive. The bulk of the 6th SS Div. was expected on 2 January. His troops were at full strength, had adequate equipment, and except for the marches, were well rested. Colonel Schreiber was briefed regarding the general situation and the further intentions of the 361st, and then instructed to assemble his regiment in the vicin-ity of Melch and to prepare for an attack on Wingen via Wilden-guth. Combat reconnaissance patrols were to proceed toward Win-gen at earliest possible time. The 12th Regt. CP to be set up in the Melch area so that wire communications could be established with the 953rd Inf. Regiment. Around 2000 hours, the Corps Commander, Gen. Inf. Hoehne, arrived at the division command post and concurred with the plans for attack; however, he directed that the 12th SS Regt. launch an immediate attack on Wingen, without waiting until it had com-pletely assembled, and to aim for the mountains—exit at Ingwiller.


— 37 —

It was urgent for the operation to establish a breakthrough route through which reserve armored forces could exit into the Alsatian Plains. 0600, 2 January - A snapping cold winter-day was dawning as Gen. Philippi drove toward the forward positions, where he ob-served the following: The 953rd Inf. Regt. had installed its CP in a captured American bivouac area on the highest point north of Reipertswiller. Two of its battalions had arrived after an exceedingly strenuous overnight march. The troops appeared greatly worn out. The other battalion and the artillery battalion were still moving up. Only two assault guns were available; two others were delayed on the road by dam-ages. The 953rd Regt. CO requested that the attack on Reipertswiller be postponed; so it was reset for 1400. General Philippi then moved over to the east sector where (about 1100 hours) he met the 2nd Bn., 952nd, on the road 3 km south of Baerenthal. It had just finished an even more strenuous march on narrow mountain paths, and was about to hand-carry its heavy weapons up the steep path because horses and vehicles could not be used there. It was obvious that this battalion could not be counted on for commitment that day. The division artillery had been ready for action since 0700, but lacked communication with its observation posts. It could only handle fire missions with the aid of maps. Because of terrain diffi-culties, they were not able to establish radio and wire communica-tions until that afternoon. These observations. demonstrated the difficulties of mountain-warfare in the almost impassable terrain. It also revealed to Gen. Philippi the importance of the road from Fourneau-Neuf to Reipertswiller. It had the significance of a “Mountain Pass.” It was urgent that Reipertswiller be captured without delay.


— 38 —

At 1400, 2 January, the attack by the 953rd on Reipertswiller was initially successful, and its 2nd Bn. entered the town. However, it was hit almost immediately by a strong enemy counterattack, supported by tanks, and suffered heavy losses. By the end of the day, the Division had not gained its expected success. Enemy artillery and mortar fire had been more active, and fighter bomber raids had increased. It was evident that the enemy had brought up new forces! General Philippi was correct. The Americans had indeed brought up new forces. The VI Corps had pulled various and assorted units from other front lines and sent them overnight to the imperiled area near the Moder River. On 1 January, the 79th Inf. Div., about 40 miles away near the Rhine, spread its defenses thinner to release the 313th Regt. (less 3rd Bn.) which then headed for Reipertswiller, arriving there before daylight on 2 January. There, attached to the 45th Div., they were given the vague di-rective to attack north; so the 1st Bn. moved up on the high ground in that direction, followed by the 2nd Bn., with a combat strength of 127 men. There were no friendly forces on either flank. Also on 2 January, the 179th Inf. Regt. (45th Div.) arrived in Wingen-sur-Moder after an all night ride from northeast of Nied-erbronn. The CP was set up in Wingen, and its three battalions moved north to stop the enemy advance: 1st Bn. north of Wingen; 2nd Bn. near Sarreinsberg and Goetzenbruck; and 3rd Bn. northwest of Wingen. The 276th Inf. Regt. (70th Div) arrived that afternoon in Zitter-sheim attached to the 45th Div. as VI Corps reserve. The 276th had been relieved from its positions along the Rhine by the 274th Inf. Regt., which extended its defenses to cover that area. The mission of the 276th was to prepare supplemental defensive positions from Volksberg to Ingwiller, a distance of approximately


— 39 —

11 miles. The 3rd Bn. was assigned the sector from Volksberg to Wimmenau; the 2nd Bn. from Wimmenau to Ingwiller; and the 1st Bn. as regimental reserve in the Wingen area. The regiment’s CP, under command of Col. Al Morgan (West Point ’19) was located in Zittersheim. Despite the addition of these new American forces, there still remained large unprotected gaps in the thick, mountainous forests, especially in the area northeast of Wingen, between the 179th Inf. at Wingen and the 313th Inf. at Reipertswiller. For 3 January, Gen. Philippi decided that the 361st Div. had to carry out a heavy attack on Reipertswiller, supported by assault guns. (Area map, page 34) Thus, his plan was as follows:

1. 12th SS Mtn Regt. (-) to push on toward Wingen, per Corps orders.

2. 953 Inf. Regt: a. 1st Bn., with assault guns, to attack Reipertswiller from

the north. b. 2nd Bn., to encircle Reipertswiller from the west. c. 1st Bn., 951st (attached), to advance toward Wimmenau

and block roads leading to Reipertswiller. 3. 952 Inf. Regt: With only 2nd Bn. (1st Bn. still tied down at Baerenthal) to

block road junction (2 km east of Reipertswiller) to seal off road from Rothbach.

At daybreak, on a clear, cold winter-day, the attack began. The 1st Bn., 953rd, encountered heavy artillery and mortar fire as soon as it emerged from the forest and headed down the hill. Arriving at the first houses, the troops were met with close-range machine gun fire, holding up their advance.


— 40 —

The assault guns moved forward, but the leading gun skidded on the steep, slippery road and became stuck in a position which blocked the guns following behind. The intense American fire in broad daylight made it impossible to move. The 2nd Bn., 953rd, was struck with an attack (1st Bn., 313th) while moving into positions, and its advance was halted. Meanwhile, the American 313th Regt. was reinforced by the 1st Bn., 314th, which was immediately sent into the fray, inflicting fur-ther sizeable losses on the 1st Bn., 953rd, and then surprising the 2nd Bn., 953rd, with an attack from the rear in the vicinity of Saeg-muhle to the west. The Regt. CO, 953rd, reported it had not been possible to cap-ture Reipertswiller, and it would be senseless to repeat the attack with the available forces. Only after dark was it possible to withdraw the 1st Bn., 953rd, which now had a combat strength of barely 150 men, including the loss of the Battalion CO. The 2nd Bn. was also withdrawn after dark since it was in dan-ger of annihilation. The attack on Reipertswiller was a complete failure. Only the 2nd Bn., 952nd, had accomplished its mission, establishing a road block on the road from Rothbach. The 257th Div. on the right had also been stopped in its attack on Sarreinsberg and Goetzenbruck by new American forces (2nd Bn., 179th Inf). The 1st Bn., 951st, advancing on Wimmenau, had apparently not been successful also. An incomplete radio message reported Wimmenau held by enemy, and help requested. Thus, in the early evening of 3 January, Gen. Philippi was de-spondent and the situation seemed hopeless. All along the entire front on both sides of his division, the attack had come to a halt. His casualty rate had been extremely high and the freezing weather was taking a daily toll. New forces were needed to continue.


— 41 —

Also, there was no news from the 2 SS battalions, advancing on Wingen, who had been out of contact with their 12th Regt. head-quarters since leaving the vicinity of Melch late afternoon of 2 January. These two SS Battalions, 1st and 3rd, with five companies each and a total strength of approximately 900 men, were composed of young, experienced troops, specially trained for fighting in moun-tains and woods. As part of the 6th SS Mountain Div. (Nord) they had been battling the Russians in Finland (The Forgotten Front) since 1941. Upon withdrawing from Finland in early November, they were originally ordered to the Western Front for the Ardennes Offensive (known to the Germans as “The Watch on the Rhine” Operation); however their marches were delayed by Allied bomb-ings of ships and trains. Now, instead, they had become a vital part of “Operation Nord-wind”; and immediately upon arrival, by direction of the Corps Commander, they had been ordered to launch an attack upon Win-gen-sur-Moder without waiting for the rest of the regiment and di-vision to arrive. Lieutenant Wolf T. Zoepf2, Adjutant, 3rd Bn., 12th Regt, pre-sents the following account of their movements since the afternoon of 2 January:

2 January - Late in the afternoon, our march with pack animals continues. Bypassing Melch, we move westward on mountain paths to the forest road connecting Wilden-guth and Kohlhutte. With the 3rd Bn. leading, we advance over the forest road toward Kohlhutte. Our vanguard con-tacts the enemy at approximately 2300.

2 Herr Wolf T. Zoepf had been drafted into the German Army at the age

of 18 after completion of his high school-college level education. Eventually he attended Officers Training School, and now at age 22, he was Adjutant and Company Commander of 3rd Bn. Headquarters Company.


— 42 —

The enemy (1st Bn., 119th Inf., 45th Div) is in position on both sides of the forest road, commanding the heights with good control over the road. Our 3rd Bn. advances and attacks in front, and from the hills to the south. The attack succeeds, positions taken, and our first prisoners captured. We are without our supporting heavy weapons, artillery and mortars, which are still in transport and some of us have no steel helmets (only ski caps). However, we employ signal pistols loaded with “whistling rounds” which have good “morale” effect on the enemy. 3 January - Before daybreak, the attack continues and our count of prisoners is mounting. The enemy fights with delaying action, and retreats southward under the protection of his artillery. 0900 - Another attack by our 3rd Bn. in a southerly di-rection is stopped by heavy enemy artillery. Both battalions dig in, facing south; 3rd Bn. on the right, 1st Bn. on the left. Whereas we had almost no casualties during our nightly advance, we start suffering now under constant enemy artil-lery and mortar fire. 1300 - We receive orders from Corps:

1st and 3rd Bns. attack south via Huhnerscherr on both sides of the road. Capture Heideneck (1st Bn.) and Wingen (3rd Battalion). After the two towns have been taken, including bridgeheads south of the Moder, the battalions will be reinforced with a self-propelled Assault Gun Battalion for further advance to the South.

Both Battalion Commanders confer on the action to be taken after receiving these orders. A frontal attack against the well-entrenched enemy would result in heavy losses. It was my suggestion that we by-pass the entrenched enemy by detouring through the wooded mountains east of Kohl-hutte. This proposal was accepted by Corps Headquarters. Our pack train arrives with ammunition and rations (half a loaf of bread and some spreading for each man) and


— 43 —

takes back the wounded and the prisoners. Our men are told: ‘to get their next rations from the enemy; no further supply.’” 1800, 3 January - Units from both battalions detach themselves carefully from the enemy and assemble in the forest north of Road D.12 (5 km northerly from Win-menau). The 1st Bn. takes the lead, followed by the 3rd. We march in a long, single file with the least possible noise. Enemy maps, captured last night, assist us. First we march east to the enemy positions we took last night; then we head south over the wooded heights on the eastern side of the D.12 Road; then southwest to the D.12 Road which we reach at a distance of approximately 1.5 km south of Kohl-hutte. We are exhausted from the lack of sleep. Every stop on our march is immediately used for sleep, leaning on a tree, crouching, or sitting. We start crossing the D.12 Road in single file, then down through the woods into the valley, and wade actors the cold Fischbach creek. Our crossing of the road is sud-denly stopped as we hear the noise of an engine motor from the southeast. Everyone crouches down in the woods. A jeep with 3 passengers stops at the track marks we left on the paved road, which was otherwise covered with some inches of fresh snow. They probably suspected mines on the road. But, after a short inspection, they resume their travel northerly in high gear. About 0400, 4 January, we enter the forest on the west side of the creek, and continue the approach toward our ob-jectives, Heideneck and Wingen.

Elsewhere, on 3 January, during the battle for Reipertswiller and the movement by the two SS battalions, other American troops had been ordered to the Wingen-Wimmenau area. The 180th Inf. Regt., 45th Div. (relieved from its positions near Bobenthal, Germany, by the 157th Inf. Regt, 45th Div, and the 36th


— 44 —

Combat Engineer Regt.) was trucked southwest about 40 miles to Wimmenau, where they arrived the morning of January 4th. Before noon, their 1st and 3rd Bns. were headed northward to-ward Wildenguth to close the wide space between the 179th Inf. at Wingen and the 313th Inf. at Reipertswiller. Company C set up a block on the D.12 road, north of Wimmenau, and sent patrols to contact the 179th Inf. on its left. By that time, the two SS battalions had already passed through this unprotected area. Also on 3 January, the 274th Inf. Regt., Task Force Herren (70th Div.) was withdrawn from its defensive positions along the Rhine River in the vicinity of Bischwiller, leaving this sector vulnerable to an enemy crossing, which came shortly afterwards. These troops of the 274th Inf. (commanded by Col. Sam G. Conley, West Point ‘24) were ordered to La Petite Pierre, but en route during the middle of the freezing night, orders were changed. The 1st Bn. (Lt.Col. James T. Willis, West Point ‘36) was needed at Philippsbourg where the 275th Inf. was under armored attack. Somehow, the huge 2½-ton trucks managed to turn around on the narrow mountain road and head northerly. Similarly, the 3rd Bn. (Lt.Col. Karl S. Landstrom, Lebanon, Oregon) was urgently needed in the Reipertswiller sector near Rothbach. Only the 2nd Bn. (Lt.Col. Wallace R. Cheves, Clemson ‘38) made it all the way to La Petite Pierre. On January 3, in the village of Wingen-sur-Moder, there was much concern among the inhabitants as the threatening signs of war became evident. The American 100th Inf. Div. had recaptured the village on De-cember 5th-6th after heavy fighting which took place in the upper western portion of town. Since then, all had been peaceful as the sounds of war moved northward.


— 45 —

The following story is by Madame Paula Felden, owner of the Hotel Wenk, located near the Catholic Church in the lower eastern portion of the village.

Since 6 December, American soldiers stayed in the hotel. The dining area was turned into a kitchen for the lower of-ficers, the dining room became an office, and the lounge a mess for the higher officers. Since a few of them spoke German and others understood French, there were no lan-guage problems. These men remained in Wingen until New Year’s Eve. They were sorry they had to leave the village and gave us a turkey for our New Year’s Eve party. The same evening, new troops moved in. We were not concerned at the time because nobody thought the Germans would come back. But, then it was announced that anybody caught spreading fake rumors or defeatist rumors would be arrested. This caused unrest and quite a few people left town immediately. On the 1st of January, the bridge near the mill and things around it were blown up, and the next day Wingen was attacked by German planes. This caused us to carry our sick Mother into the cellar Since her condition had become worse. We asked two army doctors who had quarters in our hotel for assistance. They said she needed an immediate operation and promised to arrange transportation to a hospi-tal. But before dawn, one of them came to tell us they were moving out, and we should address ourselves to the new troops who would move in soon. It was January 3rd when the new soldiers arrived. The Mayor and the Priest had already left the village and many residents followed their example. We could not have be-cause there was no car available to carry our sick mother. French policeman who had lived in the hotel with us decided to investigate, to see if we were in any danger, and instructed us to leave the village if they were not back by 2 P.M. But, before that time, their commander heard of their departure and became extremely angry. He accused them


— 46 —

and also the Mayor and the Priest of defeatism and that they had to return immediately. After that, nobody dared to leave. Thus, we remained in the hotel cellar with our se-verely ill mother who expected help in vain. Around 4 P. M. on January 3rd, more troops arrived. These were combat soldiers (1st Bn. Hq., 179th Inf., ed.), and it frightened us tremendously. Night came shortly, and flight was impossible. A few neighbors, four women and one man, came to seek shelter in the cellar with us. Above, the entire dining and lounge area had been converted to sleeping quarters for the soldiers. The floor was covered with straw. Outside, snow was falling in large flakes. If we had even so slightly suspected the events to come, neither snow nor darkness, nor the freezing cold could have kept us from abandoning the village.

Mlle. Anny Mathie and her family had also decided to remain in Wingen, but for a different reasons.

New Year’s Day, 1945, was a beautiful winter day, but something ominous was in the air. We felt and heard every now and then from the officers who were well informed that something big was in the making. We heard distant machine gun fire to the north which kept moving slowly toward us. Panic and terror grasped the civilian population, and many packed the necessities on their sleds and carts, and fled. Since we had cows in the stable we thought we could not abandon the poor animals and leave them to starve so we decided to remain, telling ourselves that if it really got bad we could still run. Thus, we settled down in out basement together with our neighbors, not know-ing what to expect. As it turned out, we were directly in the line of combat, and unable to leave.


— 47 —

Inhabitants were fleeing other nearby villages also. At 1010, 3 January, the 3rd Bn., 276th Inf., reported that 90% of the civilians were evacuating Rosteig heading west on foot to Volksberg. The Regimental Command Post, 179th Inf., pulled back to the village of Zittersheim, where the CP of the reserve 276th Inf. Regt. was located. Located in Wingen was the CP of the 1st Bn., 179th Inf., to-gether with its headquarters company personnel, the Battalion Aid Station, and other supporting troops, including Service Company, 179th Infantry. Approximately 300 soldiers were billeted through-out the town. Both the Hotel Wenk and the Hotel de Gare, near the RR Station, were filled with soldiers, who bedded down with a feeling of security since the front lines were 1½ miles to the north. At 1830, 3 January, the 276th Inf. CP was notified to expect a hostile attack in the vicinity of Wimmenau, so its reserve 1st Bn. was alerted. At the time, both B and C Companies were in posi-tions north of Wingen while Company A had prepared positions in depth on the high ground south of Wingen, supported by Company D. Company B was directed to move eastward toward Wimmenau and set up an outpost position on the high ground northeast of Wingen. This movement placed them directly in the path of the advancing German SS Battalions, who were moving westward on this high ground, after crossing Fischbach Creek. Company B was unprepared for a concerted enemy attack; whereas the 1st Bn., 12th SS Regt. was battle-wise and moving for-ward in a planned, determined assault. According to Pfc. Edson G. Larson (Mayville, North Dakota) a member of Company B:

That night we were warned that there were Germans in the area, and we moved down into the town where we left our overcoats and shoe pacs. We then moved back upon the


— 48 —

hill. Sometime later, the woods were filled with calls from the Germans: ‘A Company, on your feet:’ Also much rat-tling of mess gear and more yells, ‘Heil Hitler’ … ‘Down with Roosevelt.’ I was with a fellow from Georgia, and he said it sounded like a Republican (Political) Convention. There were calls for Sweitzer and Krueger. We had men with those names in our company. Krueger woke up, won-dering who wanted him at that time. Our company became scattered throughout the woods. There was much confusion when the Germans started firing, but somehow our group made an orderly withdrawal and moved back into the houses in the western part of town. Toward daybreak, the Germans moved into that part of town, and I was almost captured. I had found this nice outhouse, but when I came out I heard the sound of running boots. The Germans were coming across the street! I guess they were as surprised as I was because they hit the ground and started firing. I ran into the house to warn the others, but they were gone. The Germans tried to use some of the vehicles they cap-tured. One drove out into the road in a TD half-track, but couldn’t back up fast enough. It received a direct hit, and only his hand on the shift lever remained.

Sergeant Richard Struthers, (Poughkeepsie, N.Y.), Co. B, 276th, recalls:

The night of January 3rd, B Company was dug in on the hill northwest of Wingen, overlooking the town. We had a back-up of self-propelled 75 mm guns. Late that night, without much notice, we were ordered into town and then moved back up on the hill. I was sent out to scout. It was a very dark night, and there had been some light snow early in the evening. This was my second tour of overseas duty, and when we found fresh dug fox holes with rocks placed around the top, I knew they were German. This was re-ported to our company commander, Lt. Ivan Stone. “Don’t worry,” he said. “There are no Germans around.”


— 49 —

So, on we went, moving single file through a pass on our way up. At the top, it was flat and wooded, and we put up the CP tent. I asked if we should dig in, but Lt. Stone said, “No.” The machine guns were placed overlooking the pass, and the men lay down on the cold ground. It was around 4 A.M. when Pfc. Paul Hoban came run-ning up, yelling, “The Germans are moving in!” It was too late. They were already by the machine guns. When the first shot was fired, all hell broke loose! The Germans would walk over to a small tree, put their hand on it, lay the burp guns on their arm, and say: “All right, Americans, FIRE! so we can see where you are.” If you did, they would get you every time. I went up to Lt. Stone and asked for orders. He said, “We’ll move down the hill.” We started down, and about halfway, we ran into the Germans. That is about when Lt. Stone got hit. Sergeant Rose was wounded, but as we moved on, he said he knew we were moving into one of our own machine gun nests (I Co., 179th Inf.). We didn’t know the password, but we yelled, “We’re Americans. We don’t know the password.” They let us pass. Sergeant Mailman was wounded, but not as bad as Rose; so he took Rose to the Aid Station. There were two riflemen with me, and we stayed to give protection to the machine gunners. Our company was spread all over the place, but we received word over the 45th Div. lines that we were regrouping under command of 1st Lt. Donald L. Babar. We had lost all of our equipment and most of our men.

Sergeant LeRoy Rowley (West Linn, Oregon), Co. B, 276th recollects that night:

Since I was the Communications Sgt., I had the sound power telephone back to Battalion headquarters. We were told not to dig in, because if there were Germans in the area, the noise would give away our positions. The supply


— 50 —

sergeant laid his blanket on the ground, and I lay beside him with my blanket over us. During the night, we heard the German burp guns, whistles, and yelling in German. I rolled over to the phone and told Battalion what was hap-pening. They wanted to know how close they were, and I told them to listen and they could hear them. Lieutenant Babar and 1st Sgt. (Woodrow) Barnett tried to organize a withdrawal, but the Germans were already be-low us; so our small group dispersed and headed west, fir-ing bursts with a machine gun as we went down the hill. We made our way to the houses on the west side of town where 3 or 4 more men joined us. From there we could see some of our company engaged in a fire fight at the base of the hill, but we couldn’t join in because we couldn’t tell one from the other in the gray darkness. After awhile, a tank came down the road from the west, and at the same time a TD came into sight from the east. Both had white stars on them, but the TD’s were covered with mud. It looked like the TD was trying to fire, and we figured they were making a mistake. The tank fired first, and made a direct hit! The tank then stopped, and the tanker opened his hatch. We called to him, and he shut off his mo-tor. He said he was pulling back and that we should come along; so the seven of us went with him and attached our-selves to a company from the 45th Division. That afternoon, we found Lt. Babar, 1st Sgt. Barnett, and others from our company that had been spread out through the houses on that part of town.

Company C, 276th, meanwhile, had been subjected to a heavy mortar concentration in the area north of Wingen; and pulled back, setting up a road block, expecting the Germans any minute. Private Jim Cecka (Citrus Heights, Calif.) of Co. C, remembers the bewildering situation:

Several of us withdrew together, walked across a freezing stream, and moved back to a house in town where we went


— 51 —

upstairs. Later in the morning an English speaking German yelled to us: ‘Surrender, or be blown to Hell.’ We were then taken to another house and held there with about 25 others. They took our overcoats and gloves, and we were used as litter bearers to pick up the wounded. I was 18 years old, scared as hell, and fully expected to be massa-cred like at Malmedy which I had heard about a few days earlier. Later we were moved to the Church, from where we were rescued eventually. We had to walk several miles to safety (Zittersheim) where we were treated to a meal of peas and beans, and then sent back to our outfits. We didnt complain, though, and prayed for the GI’s that lay dead in the Wingen streets.

During the chaos and confusion, the 1st Bn. Commander, 276th, had become separated from his troops, and was wandering around in an apparently dazed condition. Staff Sergeant Kendall C. Dalton (Westbury, N.Y.) of Co. C was in charge of the key position, watching the road for any signs of an approaching enemy. Eventually, a lone figure came down the road, and promptly surrendered to him when he was ordered to halt. It was his Battalion C.O., a completely broken man and not fit to continue in command. The 1st Bn. troops were now without a leader, and their forces split: Company C and the remnants of Company B were on the north side of the railroad embankment, separated by the Germans from Companies A & D, located on the high ground to the south. The 1st Bn., 179th Inf., 45th Div., was also completely surprised by the suddenness of the attack which came during the early morn-ing hours of 4 January. The entire battalion headquarters and sup-porting troops were either killed, wounded or captured. Lt. Wolf T. Zoepf continues his account of the SS attack:

0430, 4 January - the vanguard of the 1st Bn. encounters an enemy outpost (Co. B, 276th) while moving through the


— 52 —

woods, and is successful in overwhelming them in short time. 0600 - Both battalions reach their assembly areas for the attack: 1st Bn. (to the right) opposite Heideneck; 3rd Bn. opposite Wingen in the woods north of Wingen RR Station. There in not much time for reconnaissance because enemy mortars are closing in on our assembly positions, probably alarmed by the fire fight with the outpost. 0700 - Both battalions advance and attack simultane-ously. The 3rd Bn. advances in a width of some 300 meters from the edge of the woods, down the steep slope to the railroad, crossing the multi-tracks, with concentration on the RR Station and the main (Catholic) church. 0900 - After two hours of heavy house-to-house fight-ing, we hold Wingen. We have reached the downs and snowy meadows of Moder Creek. Our attack to the south comes to a halt, as the enemy employs several self-propelled cannons on the Kirchberg, facing Wingen. 0930 - Two companies of the 3rd Bn. cross the Moder, dig themselves in, and prepare defense positions in the buildings on the southern rim of Wingen. The 1st Bn. has similar success in Heideneck and on the northwesterly parts of Wingen. Their units established blocks on the roads: N. 419 (to the west), D. 233 (from Rosteig) and D. 256 (to the north). Surprised by our attacks were a headquarters (1st Bn., 179th Inf.) and a supply company (Service Co., 179th Inf.) of the U.S. 45th Inf. Div., with all installations and repair facilities, total strength app. ten Officers and 400 Enlisted Men. We quarter them separately: the officers in the par-son’s house east of the church (Catholic); the enlisted men in the basement of the church. Besides other supplies and weapons we capture two self-propelled guns and one recovery vehicle. These were manned by home of our NCOs with former tank experience and employed during a short period until destroyed by en-emy fire of due to lack of ammunition.


— 53 —

Our men “feast” on captured U.S. rations, re-supply their losses in clothing (underwear and socks), and some take American rifles to supplement their weapons. The 3rd Bn. takes up command post in the hotel next to the RR Station, later in the heavy walled cellar thereof. I try to analyze and evaluate maps and documents captured. The 1st Bn. has its command post in the basement of a dwelling house approximately 400 meters west of the RR Station, south of the RR embankment. Our medics install a make-shift field dressing station in the school of Wingen. Our signalmen are not successful in establishing any sort of radio contact with Corps; neither has the forward observer of the 3rd Bn., Mountain Artillery Regt. “Nord”. Patrols are dispatched with messages to Corps Headquar-ters.

The boundary between the attacking SS Bns. was a line gener-ally north-south through the Catholic Church and the Protestant Church, further south. Erich Meyer, a German machine gunner with the 1st Bn. was on the left flank as they swept down the embankment and into the village:

Only after penetrating the town did we contact the enemy, who was completely surprised and headless. Some Ameri-cans ran through the streets in their underwear. There was no resistance until about half the town was in our hands. I was close to the church (Catholic) and took cover behind a wall, but my friend was killed by the church steps. There was one American in the church steeple who caused heavy losses on our side with his rifle fire. After several sum-mons, he came down and surrendered. My unit then got or-ders to put up defensive positions near the cemetery to the south. Weapons and ammunition were in short supply; so we used mostly captured weapons. We hadn’t slept for days and were exhausted and hungry. Food was obtainable from


— 54 —

captured American supplies and from local homemade con-serves. We were astonished to see how good American sol-diers lived.

Madame Paula Felden was with her critically ill Mother in the cellar of the Hotel Wenk when the German attack was launched:

At 7:30 a.m., 4 January, we heard sudden bursts of machine gun fire. On the floor above, hell broke loose - interrupted by screams. This frightened us to death. The 200 Ameri-cans who slept in the hotel, unprepared for combat, had been ambushed in their sleep. The fighting was man against man, with anything available. A hand grenade exploded and burst open the ceiling o f the cellar the legs o f a dead German soldier dangled down towards us. This fight lasted about two hours. The Germans easily overwhelmed the unprepared Americans and led them as prisoners into the road. During a short let-up in the fighting other neighbors joined us in the cellar as did my sister and brother-in-law whose daughter had spent the night with us. On their way to the hotel, a German soldier had asked them where they were going. When they answered, “To the Ho-tel Wenk,” he replied: “You don’t need to go there; there’s not a mouse alive in there anymore.” I still remember their horrified faces when they opened the door to the cellar and their expressions o f relief when they found us alive.

Mlle. Anny Mathie and her family were awakened during the night of January 3rd:

We heard the shooting approach more and more, and the street became more and more alive. In the dark morning hours, the door to our cellar was forced open and German soldiers confronted us shouting: “Are there anymore Americans in this house? If you don’t fell us the truth, we will blow up this place and you,” with their cocked guns pointing at us.


— 55 —

Later in the morning, we saw several American soldiers held prisoners in the court y a r d dressed only in their shirts since they had been surprised in their sleep.

The 3rd Bn., 276th Inf. (commanded by Lt.Col. Sidney E. Iver-son, Boise, Idaho) was in a thinly stretched defensive position in the vicinity of Hochberg when the early morning gun fire was heard coming from the Wingen area to the east. The Battalion Executive Officer, Maj. Robert Natzel, decided to investigate. Michael Peck a rifleman from Hendersonville, North Caolina, was with a detachment from Company I (C.O., Capt. Herbert Andrews) that went with him:

It was about 10:00 in the morning when we went with Maj. Natzel down the road and through the underpass. We hadn’t gone very far when we saw the Germans waiting for us. Major Natzel was captured with the rest, but was put in a separate room upstairs of a duplex house. The 10-12 men I was with were made to go out and bring in their wounded. My buddy, Hernandez, was hit by our own men while attending a stretcher. One or two other men were wounded also. While we were in this duplex, we got artillery fire from our own side, and I know one man was killed while looking out the window. We were then taken to the church where we joined the others in the basement, where we were guarded by two SS men with machine guns.

Ben Stein of New York was a member of Service Co., 179th Inf., 45th Div.:

The night of January 3rd, about 30 of us from Service Co. bedded down in the basement of a house not far from a church in Wingen. During the early hours of the next morning, we were awakened by heavy firing and men shouting and rushing


— 56 —

about. One of our men peered through a grating and saw Germans escorting GI prisoners with hands clasped behind their heads. Kraut machine guns were set up in the streets and were firing in the direction of the church and at other targets in the distance. We weren’t particularly anxious to get involved since we were service troops. My carbine hadn’t been fired in quite a while, and was encrusted in dirt. We decided to lay low and hope that the Germans would not discover us, and maybe they would withdraw. By daybreak, the firing had slacked off to a rifle shot here and there. We felt like we should do something, but it was out of the question to attempt anything during daylight. We were certain the Germans had recaptured the town, but thought that perhaps American troops were still in it. A Sergeant suggested that one or two men try to contact other Americans after dark, and two men volunteered to make a break for it. We settled down and waited for nightfall. There was very little to eat except K rations, and the only water was from our canteens. When darkness came, one man went out the front door, the other from the rear. It was quiet for a few minutes, and then rifle fire exploded in front of the house. A German voice shouted in English: “Americans, come out with your hands high. We laid down our guns, and filed out. The dead man from our platoon lay a few feet away. A German machine gun was set up across the street, and white-coated Krauts were standing around with rifles and machine pistols aimed at us. They looked tough and menacing, and some had ciga-rettes dangling from their lips. I figured this was the end of the line. But, they didn’t mistreat us at all. They took our watches, cigarettes, trench knives, and such, and I lost the watch I had won in the platoon raffle. We were marched down the street, and I saw dead Germans and Americans


— 57 —

here and there. I stumbled over a dead GI as we approached the church. When we started up the front steps, one of our men bent over to tie his boot. He was shot dead immediately. I was shocked, but walked on past the dead body sprawled on the church steps. We were herded down the stairs to the church cellar where we joined about 100 or more other prisoners. There was very little water or food, and German guards were in sight at all times. Buckets were placed around as makeshift latrines. No one moved out of that cellar. There was nothing to do except sleep and wait.

4 January - At the 361st Div. CP Gen. Philippi had been out of contact with the two SS Bns., but learned about the capture of Wingen through German Radio Intelligence which had intercepted an enemy message, reporting the occupation of Wingen by the SS forces. Now, with the penetration into Wingen, higher headquarters wanted to exploit this opportunity without delay. The 361st Div. was ordered to continue the attack and establish contact with these advanced forces. Qualified assault-groups were to reach them at all costs; and supply them with ammunition and rations. General Philippi was also informed that the attack of the units on his right had been discontinued, and that the center of gravity for the attack had been transferred to his division’s sector. A rein-forced regiment from the 257th Div. was to be at his disposal along with the artillery of the two adjacent divisions. In addition, his 1st Bn., 952nd Inf. Regt, was being relieved by the 256th VG Div. at Baerenthal, and would be available for an at-tack toward Zinswiller. Also more forces from the 6th SS Mtn Div. had arrived. Their 506th Panzer Grenadier Bn. had been dispatched without delay to-ward Wimmenau. The 2nd Bn., 12th SS Regt. was also ready for commitment in his division’s sector.


— 58 —

Thus, on the 4th of January, the focus was on Wingen-sur-Moder, while Gen. Philippi held present positions north of Reipertswiller and awaited the regrouping of his additional forces to continue the offensive. By noon, 4 January, the SS forces were firmly fortified within Wingen and entrenched on the dominating terrain to the north and west. American weapons had been incorporated in the defense, in-cluding two self-propelled tank destroyers. Meanwhile, at the 276th Inf. CP in Zittersheim, Col. Morgan and his Executive Officer, Lt.Col. Dan Russell (West Point ‘37) were stunned by the nerve-wracking reports. It was a bewildering situation, totally unexpected. The 179th Inf. CP, located nearby, was also shocked by the de-velopments and very concerned about its 1st Bn. Hq. and other troops cut off in the village. The strength of the SS forces was not known, but it was estimated that only a small group, perhaps 50, had infiltrated through the woods. It was urgent that a counterattack be launched at once to elimi-nate the Germans and rescue the Americans. There were no troops available from the 45th Division. Both regiments, the 179th and 180th, were already involved in defending against enemy attacks to the north of Wingen. Thus, the 276th was ordered to attack, supported by one com-pany of medium tanks from the 781st Tk. Bn. (Lt. Col. Harry L. Kinne, Jr.) which had arrived in La Petite Pierre the previous night, and attached to Task Force Herren. The 276th forces were spread over a wide area, extending from Volksberg, where Company K was in Corps reserve, to Wim-menau where the 2nd Bn. was committed. The 1st Bn. was divided and disorganized. Company B was reportedly wiped out and the Battalion CO missing. That left only the 3rd Bn. (with L Company and parts of I Com-pany) available for the counter-attack. I Company was without its


— 59 —

1st Plat., attached to the 179th, as well as the detachment that had been captured that morning with Maj. Natzel. 1330 was the time set for the attack. One platoon of tanks from Company B (Capt. John E. Simkins, Clemson ‘39) moved from La Petite Pierre, through Puberg, and then east on N. 419 to the un-derpass entering Wingen where they were to be met by infantry troops in an effort to enter the village through the underpass. These tanks were operating under severe handicaps, and not only because the roads were icy-slick and narrow, which limited their maneuverability; but they were ordered not to fire their 75 and 76 mm guns because the location of friendly troops within the town was not known. Only their machine guns could be used. Lt.Col. Sidney Iverson, CO of 3rd Bn., 276th, recalls:

At the time, my CP was with the 3rd Bn., 179th (near Ho-chberg) but no one seemed to know the situation. I was told that there were only a few Germans, and we were prohib-ited from using heavy weapons and artillery on the town it-self. The only direct route into the town was to break through an underpass which was covered by heavy enemy fire from the east and south; so it was decided to move through the west part of town and attack the hill north of the railroad tracks. At the same time, infantry troops would accompany tanks on the road below in an attempt to enter the town through the RR underpass. L Company was committed toward the hill without a preceding artillery preparation, and made good progress at first, cleared the houses to the woods, and then started up the hill. Everything seemed OK, but the Germans were waiting in the trees, and all Hell broke loose! The Company CO and a Lieutenant were killed along with several others. The Germans really had L Company pinned down, but we managed to hold on through the night.


— 60 —

The proposed tank-infantry assault through the railroad under-pass was also unsuccessful. The approaches were covered with a devastating hail of lead from three directions. Thus, the hastily ordered counterattack by the 276th Inf. Regt. against a supposedly weak enemy had been stopped.


The Battle for Wingen-sur-Moder

Y battalion arrived in Puberg about 1100 hours, 4 January and although I didn’t know it; that was about the time the two SS battalions had captured Wingen and were prepar-

ing their defenses to hold the village, until other “Operation Nord-wind” forces advanced abreast with them and they were reinforced with an assault gun battalion.

M Prior to then, my battalion had been in defensive positions stretched along the Rhine River a distance of approximately 11 miles in the vicinity of Drusenheim, where my command post was located in a 2 story house near the river. It was quiet there, only occasional artillery and machine gun fire from the Siegfried Line pillboxes across the way. We knew nothing about what was happening elsewhere, and had been cut off from the rest of the world since leaving Mar-seilles, France, where we had debarked on 10 December 1944, as the vanguard troops of the 70th Inf. Div., to be known as Task Force Herren, until our artillery and other supporting units arrived later. From Marseilles, we had been shipped in “40 and 8” freight cars, arriving in the frozen combat zone after a jerky, non-stop, four day journey. Since then, I had not read a newspaper nor listened to a radio. My entire thoughts were concentrated on preparing defenses in this open, snow covered terrain. The weather was freezing, and within a few days I became ill. I must have had the flu or something, my body ached all over, and I felt the least delirious.

— 61 —


— 62 —

Vaguely, I recall my Battalion Surgeon, Capt. Joseph Clifford, coming into the dark room where I lay on a small hard bed, and telling me, “You have a temperature of 102, and you’ll have to be careful.” He gave me some pills and said he’d be back. Sometime later, I was aroused by the talking and activity in the next room. Everything was astir; so I struggled to my feet and walked in to find out what was going on. Captain Gerald Boyea of Malone, N.Y., my competent S-3 (Operations Officer), had just finished talking with one of the company commanders. He turned to me and said, “Colonel, we have orders to withdraw. Trucks are supposed to arrive sometime tonight, and we are going to a place by the name of La Petite Pierre.” “What are we going to do there?” I inquired. “I don’t know. All I know is that we are to go there and await instructions.” “Where is this place, anyway?” I asked. Boyea brought his map over to me and pointed his finger at the town which was 40 or so miles away. “This is the route we fol-low,” he said, and traced his finger over the map. I was feeling pretty weak and tired, so headed back to the other room. “Everything is okay,” Boyea said as I walked out of the room. “I’ll let you know when it’s time to go.” “Okay, Jerry,” I mumbled and then flopped down. It was good to have a man like Jerry Boyea around. He was tops. He had been my S-3 for over a year, and we understood each other perfectly. When Jerry said everything was all right, I never worried about it, for I knew he could be relied upon. I dozed off, half asleep. It was some time later when Jerry came in the room and nudged me. “Colonel,” he said quietly, “It’s time to get up.” He waited while I sat up and then he said, “Do you think you can make it all right?”


— 63 —

I just sat there gazing at nothing in particular, and evidently I didn’t look too well, for he then said, “Captain Clifford said that perhaps you’d better go in the ambulance where you’ll be warmer.” It was bitter cold outside and the offer was the least bit tempt-ing; however, I knew that I would never condescend to such a thing. “I’m okay, Jerry,” I murmured and then staggered to my feet and walked into the other room. The room was bare except for a table and one lantern which threw a dim light over the five or six people who were standing around with full field equipment on ready to move out. I had just entered the room when I heard some discussion outside, and shortly a strange officer was brought in the room, an American Captain. He walked up to me and said, “Sir, are you in command here?” I looked him over carefully, wondering who he might be, and then I said, “Yes, I am. What can I do for you ?’’ “Sir, my company has instructions to take over the area which you are leaving, and to provide a covering force for your with-drawal.” He then went on to explain that he was a Company Com-mander from the 42nd (Rainbow) Div. and that he had received the orders only a short time before and that he had come as soon as he could. We had already destroyed all of our maps with information on them, but we told him all we could about the positions which we occupied and gave him a map of the town. I was glad to hear that we would have a covering force behind us, but I didn’t relish his job one bit. The sector was too large for my battalion to cover, and I knew a company could never do the job, which I told him. “My men are pretty tired,” he said. “Are there plenty of billets around here?”


— 64 —

We told him where our men had been staying and then started walking out of the room, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for this lone captain as we walked off leaving him standing there by himself. As it turned out, the Germans came across the river the day after. En-emy patrols were followed by tanks and self-propelled guns which were ferried. across the river. Drusenheim was to be the scene of much devastation and bitter fighting by both the 42nd and 79th Inf. Divisions. That was someone else’s war, however. Our mission for the present was to reach La Petite Pierre that night, (January 3, 1945). It was snowing as we pulled away. The trip to La Petite Pierre was one of the most miserable ever made. Boyea and I were in the second jeep which, with its top down, was somewhat like a moving iceberg. Snow covered our small vehicle, and I was sitting on hard packed snow, Behind us traveled the rest of the battalion crowded into open 2½-ton trucks. Snow and rain poured on us at regular intervals and an icy wind penetrated to our bones. Driving in complete black out, we began to have trouble shortly after we left Drusenheim. I was drowsing away, but was startled awake when I heard Boyea say, “Now, where in the hell can we be?” The jeep in front had stopped and Jerry had jumped out, trying to read a sign alongside the road. He peered closer through the darkness and then I heard him say, “My God, we’re lost! This town is not on the route.” That brought me to my full senses. No more was the feeling of sickness and drowsiness within me. I was fully awake and realized the seriousness of an entire battalion becoming lost and winding its way through the country-side. “Bring the map here,” I called to Jerry. He came over and with the aid of a raincoat thrown over a flashlight we figured out where we were and the route we must take.


— 65 —

After this was decided, we again started out, our jeep in the lead now. We moved slowly and ever so often checked our loca-tion. The battalion operations sergeant, Jack Thorsby, sat in the back with a flashlight, covered with a raincoat, keeping us posted. “There should be a bridge about a half mile ahead,” he would say, or again he might say, “We should come to a road fork in a little while, take the one to the right.” At other times when there were no conventional landmarks, he would says “We should start going uphill soon, over a winding road.” In this manner we eventually found the right road and contin-ued on into the darkness. Again we ran into trouble, for it seemed as if every jeep, truck, and tank in the Seventh Army was on the move that night, and all on this road. Convoys lined the narrow, snow covered route; many of the trucks were parked along the side. Twice we stopped and waited, but we soon realized that we would never get where we were going if we didn’t start moving; so we pulled out and started a weaving advance (against regulations), moving in and out between the big 2½-ton trucks which were sometimes parked in the center of the road. Ever so often we met trucks Parked bumper to bumper with no possible way to squeeze through. Whenever this happened, I would jump out and have them pull over to let us by. This went on for hours and then we came to a jam of trucks where it was impossible to maneuver into a pass-able position. There was no way out and there was nothing to do but wait; so we did. A freezing half hour passed and still there was no movement ahead. “Jerry,” I said, “there’s bound to be an end to this column somewhere; I’m going to walk ahead. In case the column starts while I’m gone, look for me on the highway.” I must have walked for fifteen minutes before I finally came to the lead truck parked in the center of the road, with a clear high-


— 66 —

way ahead, Perplexed, I pounded on the cab door, shouting: “What’s the matter in there?” I couldn’t see anyone in the driver’s seat, but in a matter of seconds a head raised up and said, “Eh?” “What the hell is going on?” I demanded angrily. The driver looked up, saw the empty road ahead, mumbled something about falling asleep, and then roared forward before I could say another word. Other drivers behind him had drowsed away in the meantime, and I walked back toward my jeep, pounding on doors as I passed. My jeep was still standing there when I returned, but in a matter of seconds, we were on our way. It was some hours later when we again caught up with another column stopped on the road. We had just started to pass when a figure appeared from the darkness and inquired in a high pitched voice, “What outfit is this?” I recognized the voice of Maj. Paul Durbin, the Regimental S-2; so we stopped and I answered, “2nd Bn., 274th Infantry.” “Colonel Cheves!” The voice sounded exuberant. “Am I glad to see you. Is your battalion with you?” “Right behind,” I answered with a tone that seemed to wonder where had he expected them to be. “This is the damnest mess I’ve ever been in,” continued the major. “Nobody seems to know what’s going on. Colonel Willis’ battalion has already been turned around and sent someplace. I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know that your battalion is supposed to go to Puberg.” “Where in the hell is that?” I asked. “It’s still a few miles from here, but I can show you on the map.” I had gotten out by now and was reaching for my flashlight, but the major stopped me.


— 67 —

“For God’s sake, don’t shine a light,” he exclaimed excitedly. “There’s Germans on that hill over there, and there’d be hell to pay if they spotted this column parked here.” Boyea and I walked with him to the cover of a nearby barn where he showed us the map and told us everything he knew, which wasn’t much. “I’m sorry I don’t know more,” he said, “but all I know is where you’re supposed to go. The 276th Inf. is around here some-where in defensive positions. Task Force Herren’s CP is in la Pe-tite Pierre and you can pick up a guide there who’ll take you to Pu-berg.” The road to La Petite Pierre was mountainous and dangerous, and progress was slow. The first streaks of dawn lighted the sky when we finally drove into town and located Task Force Herren’s CP, on the main corner. Our regimental adjutant, Capt. Jay Under-wood, was the lone occupant of the dimly lit room. We only stopped a minute to pick up the guide and as I started to leave, Jay shook my hand solemnly and said, “I wish you luck, Colonel.” I half smiled at his apparent concern. I didn’t know what was ahead of us. He didn’t either, but he must have known more than I did. The situation in Puberg was unknown to me; so I decided to ride ahead of the column, leaving Boyea in another jeep to bring the battalion up. I was well aware of what might happen to troops moving into a strange town at the front. Recently, I heard that the leading company of another regiment had moved into a German-held town without first making a reconnaissance. It was broad daylight, 4 January, when I finally drove into the small village. A few American tanks, Co. B, 781st Tk. Bn., were parked along the sides of the buildings; They knew no more about the situation than I did, and one of them bitched profusely, “Who in the hell ever heard of tanks being used in this kind of country?” he complained, waving his arm out over the Arctic vista, “And those roads, why we wouldn’t have a chance.”


— 68 —

I agreed with him, for I had seen some of his tanks skidding and churning over the steep, slippery ‘S’ curves a short distance back. The trucks carrying my battalion were now groaning and grind-ing up the last steep incline as they pulled into the small town. The exhaust from their engines panted out a cold, white cloud of vapor as they slid to a slow, swishing halt. The men appeared to be frozen stiff, huddled beneath army blankets with only their tired-worn faces showing. Their faces plainly portrayed the effects of another sleepless night. Slowly the men unloaded, testing stiff limbs carefully as they stepped down onto the ice for the first time in 10 hours. Many legs, numb from the cramped positions, collapsed under the unaccus-tomed load. Ankles were sprained as the men tumbled to the ground under the weight of their full field packs. First Sergeant Meyer of Fox Company crashed to the ground with a mighty jolt, and was carried away writhing in pain. The war was over for him. Big Captain Robert Davenport, West Point ‘43, came trudging down the long line of trucks. His face was all bruised and scratched. Large blood stains covered his field overcoat. He was a sight, but to watch him as he moved from vehicle to vehicle, one would never have guessed that he considered there was anything unusual about his appearance. As he walked towards me with a half grin on his face, I asked, “What in the world happened to you, Dave?” “Oh, nothing much, sir,” he replied unconcernedly. “Captain Taft and I had a jeep accident last night; my jeep’s all right, but we had to leave Captain Taft’s behind.” All of a sudden it dawned on me that I hadn’t seen my Adjutant around lately. “Where’s Taft?” I asked. “I don’t know, sir,” Davenport answered. “He was hurt pretty bad, and I think he had to be evacuated.”


— 69 —

Just then, Sergeant Counts came up and confirmed the news about my Adjutant. “Yes, sir,” he said, “I’m afraid Captain (Forrest) Taft won’t be around for awhile.” Davenport’s conscience evidently bothered him and he was very apologetic about the collision: “I’m sorry it happened, sir,” he said. “We weren’t going very fast but we were driving complete black-out, and we ran into each other before I knew what had hap-pened.” “That’s okay, Dave,” I assured him, “I can easily understand.” “Yes sir,” he said, saluted, and walked jauntily back among his men who were already crowding the narrow street. I hated to lose my Adjutant, S-1, especially since there wasn’t another readily available officer in Headquarters company to take his place; all the other officers were needed with their special staff jobs, such as Motor Officer, Communications Officer, Anti-tank platoon leader and Ammunition and Pioneer platoon leader. I summed things up and decided to let Sergeant Ernest Counts han-dle the job temporarily anyway. Turning to him, I said, “Counts, I guess you’ll have to carry the load for awhile.” “Yes, Sir, Colonel,” he answered. “Well, I guess you’d better get busy and find us a CP right quick.” “Yes, sir,” he replied and then speaking in the third person which had become his habit through years of army training, he asked: “Does the colonel have any particular place in mind?” “Nope, I don’t have the slightest idea. Just use your own judg-ment; try to get something in the center of town, though.” There was a brief, snappy “Yes, sir,” and then the reliable vet-eran First Sergeant (from Oklahoma) scurried off down the street. It wasn’t very long before my men were on friendly terms with the waiting tank men from the 781st, and there was a wholesale ex-change of individual weapons. Many of my troops were armed with a .45 caliber pistol which they swapped for the tanker’s sub-


— 70 —

machine guns, which gave more fire-power. Everyone was pleased. The bigger weapons were too cumbersome for the tankers crammed into limited space. I didn’t give a thought to Army Regu-lations which I’m sure would not have approved. In truth, I didn’t actually see the exchanges, probably because my men used dis-cretion. Now that my battalion was in Puberg and we had received no instructions, I decided to set up a defense around the town, and send out patrols. Each company was assigned a sector and given orders to establish a perimeter defense right away. Patrols were dispatched to scour the countryside in search of both friendly and enemy troops. I wanted to find out all I could about the surrounding situation. We were getting our defense organized when a messenger ar-rived from Task Force Herren with instructions for us to dig defen-sive positions from Rosteig to Volksberg (2 miles north). The messenger had departed only a couple of minutes when Col. Conley drove up, all excited. “There are some Germans in Wingen!” he exclaimed. Wingen didn’t mean a thing to me and I only casually asked, “Where’s that, Colonel?” The Colonel appeared anxious as he went on: “It’s the next town on your right, 22 miles east. There are only a few Germans over there, but Morgan (Col. Al Morgan, CO of the 276th Inf.) is afraid that some of them may have gotten into the woods between here and Wingen, and I told him that I would clear them out. The way the Colonel talked, it sounded like a small operation, but I could see he had something on his mind and waited for him to continue. “I’ll clean them out myself,” the Colonel said. “You’re sick, Cheves. Give me two rifle companies under Maj. Boyd, and we’ll clean them out.”


— 71 —

I wasn’t too enthusiastic about the idea. If it were such a small operation, it seemed to me that one company could do the job; also I had planned on sending my executive officer, Maj. Buford Boyd, back to check on when regiment planned to send up some hot chow. Our last meal had been 18 hours before. Besides I had just received orders to dig defensive positions. “Well, Colonel,” I protested quietly, “what are we supposed to do about this battalion defensive line which we have orders to pre-pare? After all, we can’t accomplish much with only one rifle company digging.” “Oh, this will only take a little while,” the Colonel insisted. “Digging that defensive position isn’t important anyway.” His mind was made up, so I pulled out my message book and started writing out an order, giving the time of attack and forma-tion. Colonel Conley was itchy and didn’t want to wait; he was ready to get started that very second. “Why don’t you call them on the telephone?” he asked. “Sir,” I replied, “we don’t have lines to the companies yet,” and then I calmly went ahead with the message writing. I could see that the Colonel was disappointed and slightly per-turbed because we didn’t jump up immediately and start shouting orders or something. I decided that I should explain the situation to him a little more. “Colonel,” I said, “the battalion is already spread around the town, and it’ll take a little while to get them together and issue or-ders. Also, we’ve found it saves time in the long run if we take a few seconds to write down important messages, to avoid mis-takes.” I knew the Colonel didn’t like that; but I was tired, and the Colonel’s ability was relatively new to me. He was a graduate of West Point, Class of 1924, and had joined the regiment only a month or so before we sailed, being assigned directly from Wash-


— 72 —

ington where he had been in the Supply Division for some time, no troop duty since the war began. I felt like I knew more about run-ning a war-strength battalion than he did, a position which I had held for the past 15 months while maneuvering over the fields of Oregon and Missouri. Many bitter lessons had I learned during that time, and I meant to benefit by them. One of those lessons was to be calm and not dash off madly with insufficient orders. Boyea assisted me with the message writing while the Colonel fidgeted around, interrupting to ask, “How long before they’ll be ready to go?” “They’ll be ready to move out in about half an hour, Colonel,” I answered. As soon as everything was all set, the Colonel left to join the attacking forces while Boyea and I went ahead with our original orders, preparing defensive positions. And so while Col. Conley took command of half my battalion, I went ahead with plans with the other half, Companies F and H. As soon as these two companies had moved out toward their defensive area, I got in my jeep and started out down the ridge af-ter the two attacking companies. “After all,” I thought, “they may run into something, who knows? And I wouldn’t want to be some-where else when my battalion had its first engagement.” Captain Bernie Nurre, Regimental Asst S-3, arrived at the CP just before I left, looking for Col. Conley, so he followed as I set out in search. I wasn’t sure which route they had taken so started out over the snow covered ridge in the general direction of Win-gen, thinking I would soon find their trail. To our left was a valley and then another ridge covered with evergreens. We had traveled only a short while when that ridge, a few hundred yards away, was subjected to a continuous barrage of artillery fire. We stopped and watched the shells as they exploded in the air, bursting into balls of black smoke and flame.


— 73 —

Nurre and I looked at each other with an expression of won-derment. “Time fire,” I said, “but whose? … ours or the Ger-mans?” Nurre didn’t know the answer and I didn’t either; so we just stayed there for a minute watching the spectacle, thinking it would stop, but it didn’t. We were in no immediate danger, but I didn’t like the set-up around here. I didn’t know what was going on and I hadn’t been able to find anyone who did. “Nurre,” I said, “doesn’t anybody back at regiment know what’s going on around here?” “No, sir,” he replied, “It’s the most confused thing I’ve ever heard of. Everybody back there is about to go nuts. We don’t even know what our own three battalions are doing, much less anybody else’s. Colonel Willis’ battalion has gone to Niederbronn and I’m not sure where Col. Landstrom’s battalion is.” “Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out,” I said, and then got back in the jeep and headed on. In a little while, we ran into one of my patrols coming back from the direction of Wingen. Recognizing the men, I asked, “Have you seen the rest of the battalion come by?” I thought for sure they would have seen them and was somewhat surprised when one of them answered, “No, sir, we haven’t, but there’s a helluva fight going on in the next town.” “That’s probably my battalion,” I said, “They’ve evidently run into some trouble.” “No, sir,” replied the man who had first spoken. “We asked some of them and they’re all from the 276th Infantry.” “Well, that at least confirmed one thing;” I thought, “both the enemy and the 276th Inf. were in the direction of Wingen; so the front lines must be over there.” The patrol leader advised against our going down this trail; so we branched to the left and joined another road (N.419) which traveled down the valley in between the two ridges which loomed


— 74 —

high on both sides. Meanwhile, Capt. Nurre decided to return to Regimental Headquarters. Everything seemed so forlorn and quiet as we drove along; and I had a depressing feeling of loneliness as we passed through the gloomy valley. We had traveled about half way to Wingen when we met a Ma-jor in a jeep driving towards us. I stopped him and learned that he was Maj. Riggs, CO of the 3rd Bn., 179th Inf., 45th Division. “What’s going on up ahead?” I inquired of him. He started cussing wildly and then said, “One of the gawddam-nest, screwed upest, gawdemnest messes I’ve ever seen in my life. There’s a lot of men getting hurt up there.” I told him who I was and then he turned his jeep around and took us to his CP which was in the vicinity of Hochberg, just this side of Wingen. A few bullets whistled past overhead as we rode along, making my driver, Pfc. Green, very nervous. “I don’t like this one bit,” he said, shaking his head from side to side. His jaw was set and there was a deep glaze to his eyes as he looked straight ahead. Green was the neurotic type and had often complained to me about having all kinds of pains in just about every spot imaginable. In the past I had always done my best to talk him out of his miser-ies, telling him I had pains myself. He didn’t want to come over-seas with us in the first place but he was an engineer and an expert map reader; so he was brought along as a jeep driver, considered a relatively non-strenuous job. I doubt if I was much comfort to him now as we raced toward the shooting, for I only said, “Oh, you’ll get used to it after awhile, Green. Don’t pay any attention. If one hits you, you’ll never know it anyway.” “Maybe so, maybe so,” he mumbled, “but I doubt it.” At Maj. Rigg’s CP, we finally learned what was taking Place. This was part of a German offensive (Operation Nordwind) which


— 75 —

the Germans had hurled southward against the thin, far stretching Seventh Army lines. Two battalions of the famed 12th SS Mountain Regt., 6th SS Mountain Div., spearheaded the drive north, of Win-gen and had found one of the many gaps in the lines. Just that morning, some of the SS troops had slipped through, surprised B Company of the 276th Inf. while going into position just north of Wingen, and after eliminating them, had taken Wingen. They had seized the CP of the 1st Bn., 179th Inf., and captured more than 200 prisoners. The 276th Inf. had counterattacked and the fight was now going on. The Germans were striving desper-ately to exploit their breakthrough between the American lines, while American forces were attacking to drive them back from this critical area which imperiled the entire Seventh Army front. “What do you think of the situation?” I asked the rugged look-ing Maj. Riggs. “What do I think of it!” he snorted. “Why, gawddammit, what would you think of it? How in the hell would you like to be setting here with a bunch of those gawddamned Storm Troopers in your backyard? Those are the toughest, meanest, sunavabitches I’ve ever seen. I just saw one of them a while ago who had been captured. He’d been shot all to hell, but he just snarled, “You’ll never drive us out!” “Nope, I don’t like it one bit,” continued this Major who had been with the veteran 45th Div. in Anzio, and on up. “And I’m not staying back here tonight; I’m going to spend the night up with one of the front line companies where I’ll have a few men around me anyway.” That was the situation as we started back to Puberg. As we stepped out of his CP, we noticed a firefight across the valley on the other side of the road. A steep railroad embankment separated us from the combatants. “That must be your men, now,” said the major. “Looks like they’ve gotten into the scrap, too.”


— 76 —

“Yep,” I replied thoughtfully, “that must be my Easy and George companies. God, I hope they are all right.” We had an unobstructed, clear view of the action across the way. It seemed odd to stand there and observe a battle in much the same way as you would watch a football game. There was a terrific exchange of rifle fire, and then the slippery sound of a German machine gun. Then American machine guns joined the chorus, their sporadic “datdatdatdat” was easily recognizable and quite dif-ferent from the faster firing, seeming deadlier, German gun. Ever so often a stream of tracer bullets spurted through the trees, bounced off the trunks, and caromed through the tall branches, fad-ing out of sight as they soared skyward. The shooting died down in a little while and then all was quiet as darkness settled over the ridges. I had missed out on the actions of the clearing operation, and as we headed back toward; my CP I wondered about what had actually taken place. Here is the story of what happened as told by Lt. G. W. Krumme (then Sergeant) of G Company:

We had just started preparing security positions around Pu-berg when Lt. Cassidy came by and called for all platoon and squad leaders. They went into a short huddle and then the non-coms came back. “Make up a combat pack and get ready to go,” yelled the platoon sergeant, we’re going to attack!” “Attack, hell,” someone said, “as tired as we are, this outfit couldn’t attack Grandma and get away with it. Don’t feed us that crap.” He continued to snort about the idea un-til we were ganged up around Col. Conley, together with Easy Company. We were having trouble with our machine gun bipod legs, which were frozen tight, so only caught a part of Col. Conley’s orientation. We were convinced, however, that we were really going into combat when Col. Conley began


— 77 —

talking about clearing woods and about the Krauts captur-ing some little burg called Wingen. By the time we got the bipod fixed, the companies were lined up with Easy on the right and George on the left. Colonel Conley and Maj. Boyd led the long skirmish line down the ridge. As far as you could see through the trees right and left there were men in a ragged line moving si-lently through the snow. We didn’t know what was ahead of us so kept as quiet as possible. A German patrol or ma-chine gun nest might be waiting. If the Krauts were on the ball, they would see us first and pick off any one of us, or maybe several, before we could take cover and start to work on them. In a clearing operation, someone has to take the rap in order to locate the enemy. The snow was slippery and the hillside steep. We moved slowly. Suddenly someone hit the ground and eve-rybody followed without knowing why. One of the men thought he had seen something up ahead. It was a false a-larm, so the line moved quietly forward. One man slipped and fell. “Dammit, where’s the fire?” he asked. We were moving very slow, actually, but the steep slopes made the going rough. We were told that it would only take a couple of hours to clear the woods, but the sun was almost setting by the time the lead scouts came to the end of the ridge. The sun didn’t help warm anything, anyway, but it did give off light. It was already getting dark when the leading scout started down the end of the ridge. “When I was about halfway down the tip,” the scout re-lated, “I saw some Krauts down at the bottom. I pointed them out to Maj. Boyd who was to my left rear. The Ger-mans must have seen us because they started to run. They had been digging in when we surprised them. We soon re-alized they were running toward a fox hole where they had a machine gun set up. There were about five of them. The major said, ‘Open fire,’ and we let go.” Then the Krauts commenced firing and for the first time I heard the German machine gun; I wished it had been the


— 78 —

last. It fires about twice as fast as our gun, and when the bullets zip in your direction, it is scary as hell. Our machine guns then opened up from back up on the ridge and there was a real fight for awhile. Major Boyd dashed around to the left and killed a couple of them with his pistol. Our pla-toon advanced rapidly, firing all the time and throwing hand grenades. A Kraut popped up out of a hole and started running back. Everyone opened up on him and he dropped like a rock. That was the end of the fight. The mission of clearing the woods was completed so we headed back. Colonel Conley said he needed a prisoner for questioning. One of the Germans shot by Maj. Boyd was still alive, so Lt. Cassidy took some men to get him and bring him back, but he died on the way out. It was black dark as we trudged back to Puberg.

Returning to the CP, I waited impatiently for E & G Compa-nies to return, my tension mounting. I turned to Capt. Boyea, and said, “Can’t you get them on the radio, Jerry?” “No, sir,” he replied, “we heard them for awhile when they first started out, but they faded gradually and we haven’t heard a word since early this afternoon.” I was just getting ready to send out searching parties, thinking perhaps they had become lost, when Col. Conley burst into the room, bubbling over with excitement. Major Boyd followed on his heels proudly waving a German Luger pistol which he had cap-tured. Colonel Conley chattered away how they had run into the Germans and how he and Boyd had a bet as to who would get the first Luger. “Boyd won the bet,” the Colonel said, his eyes spar-kling, “he jumped right out of the trench, ran over to a dead Ger-man, and snatched the gun from his belt.” I looked over at Boyd and he was beaming proudly. Both of them were like a couple of kids and I was the least bit envious that I had missed out on the excitement. Colonel Conley left a few


— 79 —

minutes later and then I reviewed the events of the day. In the bat-talion’s first skirmish we had lost one killed and three wounded, while accounting for approximately ten or twelve Germans. I won-dered what would happen next and we had just started to discuss plans for the next day when the phone rang. It was Col. Morgan of the 276th. His voice sounded faraway, for the telephone lines were hooked into several switchboards and must have extended for ten miles, buried under the freshly fallen snow. His voice carried a tone of anger as he said, “Cheves, what’s going on over there? I understand that you have pulled your troops back from the woods around Wingen.” “Yes, sir,” I answered. “They have just arrived back here.” “Well, what in the hell are you thinking of?” he fumed, “Don’t you know you’re leaving a gap in the line? Those Germans will be all over the woods before morning, and all of us will be cut off. Now, I want those troops turned around and marched back imme-diately.” Now, this was a surprise to me. I didn’t doubt that it might leave a gap in the line, but I had received no instructions from Col. Conley, nor Task Force Herren, about holding a line in the woods. In fact, he had told me that he had only promised Col. Morgan to clear the woods out, to assist the 276th in their attack on the town. All this I explained to Col. Morgan, but that didn’t please him one bit. His voice was in a rage as he shouted back, “I’m the senior of-ficer in this area, and I order you to move those troops back to the edge of Wingen and hold a defensive line there.” I was both apologetic and firm as I replied: “I am very sorry, Colonel, but I only take orders from Colonel Conley.” “I’ll take this matter up with Gen. Herren then, if that’s the only way I can get cooperation around here.” He slammed down the phone. Everyone in the crowded room had remained quiet while the conversation went on. There was only one lantern in the room, and


— 80 —

its faint glow cast grotesque shadows over the faces of the men as they listened intently. Men and equipment were sprawled every-where in the school room which was slightly smaller than the aver-age one back home. Some of the men lay on their backs, looking at the ceiling; others, like Sergeant Counts, were working over small gasoline stoves trying to heat up something to eat. Major Boyd sat cross-legged on his bed roll and, with the aid of a flashlight, fon-dled his new prized possession, the Luger. When I finally put the phone down, I looked around the room and said” “Well, men, just sit tight, there’s no telling what’s going to happen next. Everybody get some sleep if you can.” No one said a word; my men had already learned not to get ex-cited quickly and that was the way they were now, each occupied with his own thoughts and waiting for the next thing to happen. I reached for a map of the area and, placing it under the light, began to study the maze of contour lines which curved all over the sheet. It was truly hilly country covered with thick forests, and re-minded me of the mountainous terrain in Italy which I had read so much about. Boyea interrupted my study by saying, “The guards are all posted, Colonel,” and then he proceeded to brief me on the loca-tion of the various security posts. We were still discussing the local security when the telephone rang again. I was expecting Col. Morgan to call back so reached for the phone and said, “ White 6 speaking.”3

I could barely discern a very weak voice on the other end of the line, it seemed even further away than the previous call. Finally the line cleared momentarily and I heard the voice say “Wyoming 3” and then I recognized it as being Maj. Walter Greenhalgh, Regi-mental S-3.

3 Telephone Code - Wyoming for 274th Infantry; White for 2nd Battalion;

6 meant Commanding Officer; 5 for Executive Officer.


— 81 —

His voice was hardly audible but carried an ominous note as he said: “I have just received information that the Germans in Wingen have been reinforced and that two battalions of Storm Troopers are now moving through the woods heading your way to attack Puberg tonight.” “What are we supposed to do? … stay here or get out?” I asked. “I don’t know what to tell you to do,” came the answer. “I ha-ven’t any orders for you, but I thought I’d better warn you so you wouldn’t be taken by surprise.” That was all. That left me with only one thing to do, and that was to stay where I was unless I received additional instructions later. George Company was immediately alerted and hurried out of town to pro-vide an outpost while the rest of the battalion organized a defense of the town. Lieutenant Cassidy’s hands trembled the least bit as I gave him his orders. I knew that “Casey” wasn’t scared, though, and recog-nized the trembling as a natural nervous reaction. “Casey,” I said,” Your job is to provide security on the ridge between here and Wingen while the rest of us organize a defense. You’ll have to select the best position you can; use your own judgment. For all I know, you may run into them before you have a chance to organize a defense; so you’ll have to hurry. Be sure and keep your flanks protected, and hold them off as long as you can.” I was very pleased with Lt. Cassidy, who was placed in com-mand of G Company only a few days ago after Capt. Lamson had been wounded and evacuated. Already it seemed a long time since I informed him of his new job. At the time, I had qualms as to how he would take it and what would be his reactions. He surprised me with his calmness. “Casey,” I said, “it looks like you have a job on your hands now. Do you think you can handle it?” I looked this young Second Lieutenant straight in the eye, searching for any possible weakness.


— 82 —

He was very young and had been studying law at Nebraska not too many months ago. Tall, dark, and athletic, he was typically Irish except for his quiet mannerisms. “Yes, Sir, I can handle it,” he replied confidently. “We’ve got the best non-coms in the battalion, and I couldn’t ask for better of-ficers. We’ll get along.” The other companies were now alerted and rapidly proceeded with the organization of the defense. My supply line was a para-mount concern and I wondered how I could protect it since there were several miles of woods through which the Germans could roam undetected. My present predicament brought forth very vividly the advan-tages of being on the offensive. The defender can only guess where the enemy will attack; whereas the attacker can hurl his main forces wherever he may choose. It also brought forth the necessity for a mobile defense; a stationary defense could accomplish virtu-ally nothing, especially when it was impossible to adequately cover all possible avenues of enemy approach. A reserve force must be available to counterattack in case the enemy penetrated into the area. My mind worked rapidly, reviewing the possibilities. My imagination was working also, and I conjured a mental picture of grim-faced Germans as they stalked through the thick woods, mov-ing from tree to tree, searching for us, anxious to close in for the kill. The telephone rang again, breaking the suspense. I had been out in the dark street in front of the CP. I waited expectantly, hop-ing the call was for me, and then someone pushed aside the blanket curtain which hung over the doorway, and said, “It’s for White 6, sir.” I walked inside wondering what the message would be. It was Col. Jim Richardson, Division G-3, and he said that he had received a call from Col. Morgan about our withdrawing from the woods around Wingen.


— 83 —

“Yes, sir,” I admitted, “but I had no instructions to place my troops there, sir.” “Yes, I realize that, but I have taken the matter up with the General and he has instructed me to tell you to move some troops over there right away and establish a defense line.” “Yes, sir,” I said, “but have you received any information about two battalions of Storm Troopers moving through those woods, headed this way?” “No, I haven’t,” he answered, “and I’ve been in close touch with the situation over there. I’ve just talked with Col. Morgan, and he said nothing about it.” I then told him where I had received my information, but he discredited the authenticity of it, sayings “I don’t know how Wyo-ming 3 could have gotten his report without it coming through this headquarters; so I wouldn’t pay too much attention to it.” I felt much better now that the two battalions of Germans were off my mind. I breathed a sigh of relief and asked Col. Richardson what size unit did the 276th want over there. “I imagine a company should be sufficient,” he responded. “All right, sir,” I replied, “My George Company has already started in that direction so I’ll have them continue on and contact the 276th.” “That’s fine, Cheves.” “Oh, by the way, Colonel,” I continued, “how about this defen-sive position we are supposed to prepare north of here, do you want us to go ahead with that?” “By all means,” he answered. This change in plans was immediately relayed to George Com-pany and that company continued on toward Wingen with the mis-sion of occupying a defensive position along the edge of woods west of that town. Here is the story of their actions as given to me later by men in that organization:


— 84 —

We fell into a column of two’s and started hiking toward Wingen. It wasn’t daylight yet, but the white snow re-flected what little light there was. Mumblings were heard all up and down the line as the word was passed along that we were going back to the same place we had left a few hours before. “Why in the hell don’t those god damn big shots make up their minds?” someone said, as we moved slowly forward. The rubber soles of our shoe-pacs slipped on the hard packed snow and every little rise and fall in the ground meant slips, sprains, and bruises. Ever so often we passed through dense evergreen growths, much darker and more impenetrable than the open forest. All was quiet. Our ears heard only the muffled shuffling of the shoe-pacs. Our eyes strained at the imagined shapes moving through the trees. A tense half hour passed before the message was whispered down the lines, “Hold it up, hold it up, hold it up.” We stopped and moved to the side of the trail before the next message reached us; “Take ten, take ten.” In two min-utes most of us were asleep. Ten minutes passed, then twenty. The cold seeped through our clothing and we were almost glad when the word came from the head of the col-umns, “Let’s go, off and on, hubba, let’s go.” It was just breaking day when the company moved into a deployed formation before pushing on through the woods. Instead of following the same path taken the night before, we moved down to the left, then toward the nose of the ridge. We reached the tip of the ridge—where we had the trouble the night before—without seeing a thing. Just in front of us was a patch of evergreens. We had just started toward them when a German machine gun opened up. Those Krauts were tricky; they had waited until we were almost on them before firing. We hit the ground and the fight was on! Sergeant Hughie Shellem wasn’t afraid of anything. “Let’s go get ‘em just like we did in basic training,” he


— 85 —

yelled and led us forward through the woods. He threw a grenade at one of the guns; it didn’t fire any more. Shellem completely ignored the bullets that were flying everywhere, bouncing off the trees, digging into the snow. All of a sudden he stopped, turned, and fell; a bullet had found its mark. Someone yelled “Medic!” and the platoon medic came running up. He had just reached Shellem when he, too, was hit. He grabbed his thigh, slumped down beside Shellem, and yelled, “Break open a case of Purple Hearts, they got me in the tail.” Shellem was too far gone and died there in the snow where he had fallen. The advance slowed and then stopped. Well dug-in Germans continued to rake the area with machine gun fire. They had gained fire superiority and evidently meant to hold it. We clawed deeper into the snow, as the missiles zizzed a few inches overhead, clipping the tree trunks and sending a shower of flying bark and dead limbs on top of us. We were in a tough spot, lying there buried in the snow while an unseen enemy blazed away about fifty yards to our front. It was then that Lt. Cassidy proved to us that he was one of the bravest officers in the Army. We had won-dered about him when he had first taken command of the company only a few days before, but our wondering ceased as we watched this young second lieutenant move calmly through the woods apparently unaware of any danger. His confidence assured us as he moved about, surveying the situation. We knew that everything would soon be all right. Some one shouted, “Lieutenant Cassidy, you’d better keep down, you’re going to get killed standing up there,” but he didn’t answer a word. Bullets clipped the limbs off a tree just over his head, but he only hunched his shoulders and went right on. Lieutenant Cassidy then decided to withdraw and shell the area with mortars, following up with an attack afterwards. We pulled back and waited for the mortars to get zeroed in. We had been lying in the snow long enough for the heat


— 86 —

of our bodies to melt the snow sticking to our clothes, First a patch here, then a spot there got wet, and soon we became both cold and wet. Our misery increased, as we lay there shivering, all tense, knowing that we were going forward as soon as the mortar fire lifted. To our front we could see the dark evergreens, quiet and sinister, a grove where death lurked. We hated those dark woods; we hated the enemy within it; we hated the thought that in that dark grove lay Shellem—spunky little Hughie Shellem—crumpled in the snow. The mortars were now ready to fire. First there was the hollow “klomp” … “klomp” … as the projectiles slid in and then out of their tubes. The sound echoed through the woods amidst the chatter of the machine guns. Seconds passed and then the death dealing rounds reached their des-tination … “Whoom!” … Whoom!” … “Whoom!” It was a mean, crunching sound, and seemed to growl as it tore into the trees and branches, ripping them asunder. For the next few minutes, the barrage continued with unceasing fury. They had found their target, and the mortar observers were sparing nothing in their efforts to annihilate the enemy. Even before the final round had landed, we started for-ward, shooting like hell. There was no stopping us now, We had the Krauts on the run, and we were taking advan-tage of it. In short order, we cleaned out the woods and pushed to the edge, overlooking the village of Wingen, where we held up.

It had been a long night at the CP. By the time things had set-tled to normalcy, it was almost daybreak, January 5, and we had spent another sleepless night. Already the companies were up and about, waiting for the kitchen trucks to arrive. The chow situation had been snafu from the very beginning, and it seemed as though we were always waiting for regiment to send us kitchen trucks that never came. It irked me quite a bit because regiment insisted on keeping the trucks physically under their control, cooking the


— 87 —

meals in some rear area under the supervision of the Battalion S-4’s (supply officer) and then sending the trucks forward with the “hot” food. By the time it reached us, it was usually icy cold. The mechanics of the operation meant very little to me; I was only interested in having my men fed. Now, with the three battal-ions of the regiment spread all over Alsace, France, I wondered if we’d ever get another meal. Turning to Maj. Boyd, I said, “I guess you’d better go back and find out what’s holding up the works, Boyd. Find out what’s the matter with that supply officer of mine? … why I never see him? … how does he expect me to ever know what’s going on if he doesn’t get in touch with me once in awhile?” Soon the companies started on their way to the defensive area, without chow. I traveled a ways with them as they plodded down the road, one file on each side. These men had gotten little, if any, sleep and their hollow eyes showed the effects of the strain. There was a grim, resigned expression on their faces as they tromped slowly over the slippery road. I was restless and unsettled. Nothing seemed to make sense. I worried about Lt. Cassidy’s company that was called out in the middle of the night, and I wondered what they were doing. I couldn’t bring myself to become too interested in digging a de-fense position just because there was a report that the enemy might attack there. I was more interested in the very active enemy on my right. I decided to take a quick run back to Task Force Herren’s CP in La Petite Pierre. There, I hoped I would get an inkling of the big picture and just what was expected of me. Boyea went with me and together we walked into the second floor CP where we found Col. Richardson. Colonel Richardson was very cordial and showed us the situa-tion maps. The thin acetate paper was covered with red marks and arrows, indicating enemy forces and their attacks. The red lines


— 88 —

predominated over the few blue markings which meant friendly troops. It was then for the first time that we realized the precarious position of the American forces. We were getting ready to leave when Gen. Herren came over and asked me, “Cheves, can’t you give Colonel Morgan some more help over there at Wingen?” His question took me somewhat by surprise. Colonel Richard-son had made no mention of any additional assistance needed. I stammered out, “Why, yes, sir, I can give him all the help he needs, General.” “What do you think he needs?” the General fired back, looking at me very stern like. “Well, I hardly know, sir, without going up there and looking over the situation.” “Well, suppose you go up there and give him all the assistance you possibly can. I’ve just talked to the Corps Commander (VI) and he is very anxious to have that situation cleaned up right away.” I wasn’t sure whether the General intended for me to commit my entire battalion in that direction or not, so decided to ask the question. “Would you want me to move my whole battalion over there, sir?” “Yes, give him all the help you possibly can.” With this information, we hurried back to Puberg. The morning had passed quickly and it was already afternoon by the time we reached our CP. Major Boyd was waiting for me as I strode into the room, and before I had a chance to say a word, my hot-headed executive exploded with a tirade of words about our supply officer. “Why that god damn so and so,” he said, his voice choking with rage, “do you know what I found when I went back to check on those kitchen trucks?” He didn’t hesitate long enough for me to answer, before he went on. “Well, I’ll tell you—the whole god damn bunch of them were just sitting there, not doing a damn


— 89 —

thing. Half of them were asleep and the rest of them had just gotten up. And you know what that supply officer of ours was doing? — He was sitting there eating breakfast. Why, that god damn so and so, I told him if I ever caught his ass around here again, I’d shoot him on sight.” I had to smile, watching Boyd rave on, his eyes sparkling with anger. He was a good man to have around and had the interest of the men at heart; he couldn’t stand anyone who just sat around do-ing nothing when there were so many things to do. He had been raised in the west, on a ranch in Idaho, I think, and he had learned the lessons of life the hard way. I doubt if there was a better pistol shot in the army. I’ve seen him shoot clothes pins off a clothes line with his .45 pistol, twenty yards away. “Okay, Boyd,” I said, “I’m glad you got rid of him. Tell regi-ment that we don’t want him anymore. Have Savchick go back and take over the supply job, and tell him to get us fed.” (Savchick was a Lieutenant in Fox Company and we had already talked to Capt. Davenport about making him S-4). I then told Boyd what I had learned and instructed him to join George Company in the Wingen area while I went over to the 3rd Bn. of the 276th to find out all I could about the situation. “I’ve already told Boyea to have the other companies move over to where George Company is, just in case we need them there,” I said. Leaving Boyd, we drove down the valley road toward Wingen. We drove along for awhile without saying a word and then Green broke the silence saying: “Are we going back up there where we were yesterday, Colonel?” “Yep,” was all I said. He didn’t say a word for a few minutes. I surmised that he was the least bit apprehensive, but I didn’t say anything; I was too oc-cupied with my own thoughts, Finally, he said, “I’ve been having a


— 90 —

lot of pains lately, and don’t know whether I can go through all that excitement again or not.” “Aw, Green,” I said, feeling irritated, “Forget your damn aches, we’ve got work to do, and I don’t want you moping around, think-ing you’re going to die any second. You’ve got to be on the alert; we don’t know what we’re going to run into.” He seemed to be the least bit insubordinate as he mumbled; “Well, all I know is that I’ve got ‘em, and that ain’t helping me feel any better.” I let the matter drop. I knew that Green would have talked on and on about it, hoping that I would recommend sending him back to the hospital or something. We had no difficulty locating the Observation Post of the 3rd Bn., and after instructing Green to park the jeep, I hopped out and started up a trail. Green didn’t follow, and looking around I saw him standing by the jeep with his rifle cradled in his arms. “Aren’t you coming, Green?” I hollered back, stopping to wait. “You don’t want to go off and leave the jeep unprotected, do you, sir?” he answered. I decided to go on alone, shouted back “okay, okay,” and pro-ceeded on up the hill. In a few minutes, I came to the OP which was in a flat open clearing. Men ran hither and yon while others just stood around in groups, staring out into space and talking. The scene was crowded with confusion. I stood and watched for a few minutes, and then I spied stubby Col. Morgan strutting around from place to place, stopping occasionally to shout. “Now, look at the way you are bunched up around here. If the Germans decide to throw in some artillery, it’ll be too bad for all of you.” Some of the men listened as he admonished them, and even moved aside a few feet; the rest just went about their business as though they hadn’t heard him say a word. “This would be an um-pire’s heaven,” I thought as my mind reflected back to the training


— 91 —

days in the States when there always seemed to be an umpire around with a white arm band and a note book in his hand, writing down every small violation of training regulations. Lieutenant Colonel Sid Iverson, 3rd Bn. CO, was at the far end of the clearing, screaming over a radio; so I decided to walk over his way. So far, no one had paid any attention to me. I was merely another one of the mob. I walked along the edge of the trees, heed-ing Col. Morgan’s warning not to bunch up. Colonel Iverson was still shouting over the radio as I came closer. “This is Wriggle Blue 6, he bellowed, the veins in his neck protruding and his face glow-ing a deep crimson, “I want to speak to Love 6.” It struck me as being odd that they were using the telephone code instead of the radio voice code signals. The enemy was very apt to listen in on radio calls and learn the identification of our units. Radio call signs are changed daily, being published in a S.O.I. (Signal Operations Instructions). While I was listening to him, he looked up and noticed me. “Hey there,” he greeted, and then he screamed back into the radio, “What is your present location?” He was quiet for a moment but kept his ear glued to the earphone of his 300 radio. He evidently hadn’t understood the message, for his voice sounded even louder as he said, “Say again, say again, I can’t hear you.” There was a pause while he listened, and then he bellowed once again, “My, God, you haven’t moved in the last half hour … what’s holding you up?..get going.” He then turned the radio over to his operator who was standing next to him, and turning towards me, he asked, “Say, what’s the matter with that company of yours?,” meaning my George Company, of course. “What do you mean, what’s the matter with them?” I answered back, wondering if something terrible had happened to them. “I haven’t heard a word from them in the last hour,” he said, his face still flushed red and he seemed to be sweating in spite of


— 92 —

the cold temperature, “and the last I heard they were still along the edge of those woods over there.” “That’s where they’re supposed to be as far as I’ve heard,” I answered. “My orders were to have them establish a defensive line on the edge of town to block off that route of advance.” “My God,” he shouted back. “Do you mean to tell me you’re just going to let them stay there while my men get killed trying to work their way into town.” He was visibly upset and nervous, and I felt the least bit sorry for him. He was apparently under a tremendous strain with every-one pestering him to drive the Germans back. I tried to remain calm as I answered, “That’s what I’ve come over here to see you about. I have just received orders from Gen. Herren to help you all I can. I’m having the rest of my battalion move up and they should be over there in another hour or so.” “Good, good,” he exclaimed almost fervently. We can use all the help we can get. We’re having our hands full and can’t seem to get anywhere.” “Well, what can I do?” I inquired. “Just drive on into the town,” he said. “You drive them out on that side of the railroad track, and we’ll push them back off the hill on this side of the tracks.” That sounded fairly reasonable to me, for the sector was clearly divided in half. His troops were on the north side, and a wide open railroad embankment separated him from the steep ridge on the other side where my George Company was.” “How about artillery support?” I asked. “We don’t have any.” “I’ll take care of that,” he said, still talking very fast and very excitedly. “Whenever you need any, just call me on this radio, Wriggle Blue 6, and I’ll relay the message to the artillery.” I asked to see which radio channel he was on and then got ready to go. It was getting late, and we had to work fast if we ex-pected to accomplish anything before dark.


— 93 —

Colonel Morgan came walking up before I could get away, and he too asked, “Say where’s that company of yours?” “They’re over there, Colonel,” I answered, pointing to the hill several hundred yards away. “I’m going over there now and see if we can’t give you some help.” He grunted an acknowledgment and then we stood there together for a few minutes before I headed back down the hill to my jeep. In a few minutes I was on my way back to Puberg. It was a round-about way to travel, but the nature of the terrain offered no other route. George Company was only two hundred yards away, but they were on top of a high ridge which dropped down to the road in the manner of a cliff. To go by foot across the open railroad tracks was like inviting certain death. The Kraut ma-chine gunners had it covered completely. The road itself was gen-erally defiladed from them, however; and only occasional bullets zipped our way as we raced on back. It had taken quite some time to gather my battalion from the defensive positions where they had been spread over a square mile area; a little group here, a little group there, all over the ridges and valleys, tucked into the woods and underbrush. As a result the men were just trudging up the last hill to Puberg when we arrived. The Company Commanders followed me in jeeps as we branched off to the left and raced over the trail toward Wingen. The men followed on foot as usual. It would take a good hour or so for them to reach George Company’s position. It took us some fifteen minutes by jeep, weaving back and forth through the deeply rutted trail that wound through the thick ever-greens on top of the ridge. The sounds of the firing came closer and closer. When we reached the temporary Aid Station which had been set up, we dismounted and went the rest of the way on foot. Just as we arrived among the front line troops, a squad from George Company exposed themselves unnecessarily while trying to capture some Germans in a house, along the edge of town. A


— 94 —

German machine gunner sighted the group and raked them with fire. Every man in the squad was caught in the enfilade fire and went down. I knew the squad leader, a sergeant by the name of Wexler, and as he came hobbling past headed for the Aid Station, he looked at me in recognition, pain showing in his soft brown eyes. “Where’d they get you, Wexler?” I asked sympathetically. I felt so useless all of a sudden and wished that I had been there to help prevent some of the casualties. “In the tail, sir,” he answered and turned around, showing a rip in his pants, and a dark, bleeding, woozy hole where the bullet had dug in. I said something, I don’t know what, and then we went on looking for Lt. Cassidy and Maj. Boyd. These woods still hadn’t been cleared of all the Germans, and snipers lurked around the edges, taking pot shots at use We crouched low as we moved on, for the deadly “Whit,” “Whit” of the bullets whistling through the trees sounded very close. Major Boyd came scampering back up the trail to lead us to where Lt. Cassidy was located. “How’s everything going?” I asked Boyd as he arrived, breath-ing hard. “Oh, all right, I suppose,” he answered, trying to catch his breath. “But it sure is a screwed up mess., Nobody seems to know where anybody else is.” Boyea, Boyd, and I then started down a sunken trail together. Both sides of the trail were lined with some of my men. They just sat on the banks, looking down into the ground, dead tired. They hardly looked at us as we ran crouching by. The bullets were whis-tling overhead now with unpleasant regularity. We stopped in a little while to catch our breath before we went on. In front of me was a dead German, the first I had seen. He lay on his stomach with his face buried in the snow. His helmet rested


— 95 —

just above his head, a jagged hole pierced the lining and the inside was splattered with his brains and blood. Boyd looked at him and said very indifferently, “That’s one of them that I got yesterday.” I wondered how Boyd felt, but it didn’t seem to bother him at all, just as though he had been doing such things all his life. I then remembered that he had come off a ranch, and probably had butch-ered a lot of cows or something. There was lots of German equipment lying around. Two rifles rested against the embankments of the sunken trail. None of them had been touched and one of the men sitting next to me asked, “Sir, do you think they are booby trapped? I’d sure like to have one of those rifles as a souvenir.” “You’d better leave them alone,” I answered. “You never can tell, and you’ll have plenty of time to get all the German rifles you want.” In a minute we were on our way again. We no longer had the protection of the sunken trail, so we moved by rushes from one covered place to another until we reached the edge of the woods. Just as we arrived, there was a “Swish,” “Swish,” followed by the two loudest explosions I’ve ever heard. The ground trembled for a few moments and then quietly settled. I didn’t see where the shells had landed but I sensed that they had hit only a few yards to my left. I was bewildered. By the time I recovered my wits, I looked up and there was Cassidy standing up beside me leaning against a tree, and smiling down at me. “What the hell was that, Casey?” I stammered, trying to act composed. He just laughed, and said, “Damn if I know. I’ve been hearing those kind of sounds all day long. You get used to them after a while.”


— 96 —

I thought maybe he was shell-shocked for he stood there grin-ning as though he enjoyed it. I soon realized that he was perfectly sane, and from then on I always had confidence in him. He had bolstered my courage. Lt. Kiefer, one of Casey’s platoon leaders came running up while we were talking. His face was white as a sheet, his eyes pop-ping out of his head, and his hands shaking. “What’s the matter, Kief?” Casey asked. “That da-damn sh-sh-shell came right thr-thr-through the house I was in!” he exclaimed wildly. His clothes were covered with plaster dust and he evidently had a close call by the same shells which had almost scared the wits out of me. He was pretty well shaken up, but was all right. Casey told him to stay out of the house for they would probably shell it again. The house in question was a few yards to my left, and a slight rise in the ground obscured it from my vision. It was an ideal ob-servation point, for it afforded an unobstructed view of the entire village, but at the same time, its three stories provided the Krauts with a perfect target and registration point. My thoughts focused to the scene in front of me. From our pre-sent vantage position we looked out onto the town. It was truly a picture for a Christmas card. The small village nestled in a valley, and its buildings reminded me so much of the early American ar-chitecture: masonry dwellings grouped closely together, covered with a peaceful blanket of snow. The spire of the lone church stee-ple loomed majestically from the center of town; to the right was a small cemetery and then an open field spread to the woods on the right. On the left of town was the railroad track, and a steep cliff rose sharply to a thick, dark woods. It was there that the Germans were firmly implanted and poured devastating fire onto everything below. They were also in the town, but is was impossible to distin-guish which buildings they were occupying.


— 97 —

The firing was sporadic now. Ever so often, there was a con-stant chatter of weapons, followed by a temporary lull. Then the firing would break out anew. To our front there was a clear open field to the first row of houses about 200 yards away. The Germans held some of the houses and there was a group of American sol-diers (Co. A, 276) trying to work their way into town along the road from Zittersheim. A tank moved forward with them, but they made little progress, and withdrew. While we were watching, three Germans ran from one house to another. Boyd fired and I raised my carbine and fired three shots quickly as they streaked for the protection of a basement. None fell or staggered so we assumed that we had missed. A few mortar shells landed in the woods behind us and there was almost a constant whistling of small arms fire shaking through the leaves overhead. All of them were high and we paid no atten-tion as we went about the serious task of planning an attack into the town. It was almost dusk when the other two companies, Easy and Fox, moved up around us. My plan of attack was a simple one; they were to try to work their way into town any way possible. I couldn’t see any covered approach, but oftentimes squad leaders were able to find a small ditch or culvert which a battalion com-mander was unable to see. So far George Company had been taking the punishment all by themselves and they were glad to have the other companies move up. One of the sergeants in George Company summed it up this way:

We stood in sort of a ragged line watching these two com-panies move in the woods which we had taken. They looked almost as tired as we did, and we were later in-formed that they had been preparing defensive positions around Puberg. It felt damn good to see them coming in with us. In battle, you always feel as if your outfit is picked


— 98 —

on to do the hardest job, and it was always good to see someone else come in and take it for awhile. Every outfit feels as though it does all the fighting. You get all touchy and short tempered as hell. Suddenly I saw the fellow in front of me drop and hit the ground. Everybody in turn dropped just like a long row of up-ended dominoes falling, each domino knocking down the one behind it. We were all sheepish when we realized that nothing was wrong, just some guy up front with the “willies.” Fighting makes you that way, on edge, quick acting.

The battle in and around the town increased in tempo. My men tried to edge forward. Tracer bullets flew in every direction, and we were continually showered with these missiles. It was impossible to tell friendly. fire from foe. An American tank on the road to Zittersheim, about 300 yards away, slowly turned its muzzle in our direction; and as I watched almost petri-fied, it let go with a broadside into the trees all around us. It was a terrible feeling to lie there hugging the ground while that monster blasted away. Finally it ceased, and I called Col. Iverson on the radio. I was as excited as he was when I shouted into the mouthpiece: “For God’s sake, stop that tank from firing!” I don’t know whether my call did any good or not, but at least the tank didn’t fire our way anymore. There were many more anxious moments, though, whenever it poked its snout in our direction. In the meantime, my two companies had been unable to make any progress. As mentioned before, fire was coming from all direc-tions, and the enemy could not possibly have had us surrounded. I rapidly became exasperated and instructed my companies to hold up while I tried to unsnarl the confusion. While we were waiting, I saw a platoon of American Infantry-men make a most amazing attack across the open field directly in front of us, the like of which I doubt has ever been duplicated since


— 99 —

the Revolutionary days when soldiers marched into battle keeping a straight line while the drummer boy beat away on his drum. These men formed a skirmish line, spread out about five yards apart, and then walked in a crouching position across the frozen ice toward the first row of buildings in town. Again I was petrified and stared unbelievably as they moved halfway across the field without a man being hit. The Germans had held their fire, for as yet I hadn’t heard the sharp “dadadadadadadad” staccato of their slick-firing machine gun. Then I heard it, and simultaneously the entire line went down. It was impossible to ascertain how many had been hit, for the en-tire line lay still, flat on their bellies, while the enemy guns contin-ued to rattle away. Some of the men attempted to crawl to the pro-tection of small ditches nearby, and eventually all of them began working their way back and to the sides, That is, all but three of them who remained behind, lying lifeless out there in the middle of the field. It was incredible that so few had been hit, but that was the way it always was: men would come through alive when it seemed impossible for anyone to survive. As to this particular maneuver, I later learned that it was one of my own platoons from Fox Company when Capt. Davenport came to me, white with anger, and explained what had happened. As the story was told to me, Col. Morgan of the 276th was trying to secure a foothold in the town, and the Colonel himself was there spurring on his troops. When he spied this platoon waiting at the edge of the woods, apparently idle, he immediately ordered them to attack. There is much that could be said, pro and con, on this subject, I’m satisfied that more often than this once, there were incidents of this nature when field commanders rallied every available man around them to attack some objective. Sometimes they were suc-cessful; sometimes they were not, maybe Col. Morgan thought they were 276th troops, I don’t know.


— 100 —

While this was going on, a squad from George Company had become disentangled from the rest of the company and had worked their way into the first few houses along the edge of town. Here is the story of their action as told by Pfc. Heye, one of the men:

There were some GI’s already in the houses, all wounded from the 276th. About that time, some other Americans made the dash from the woods into the house. The CO of Company A, 276th, was leading an attack and needed more men; so we followed. We weren’t eager beavers or anything. Hell’s fire, someone has to fight the war. This Captain only had a few men, but he said more were coming later on with tanks. We moved out, making a break for each successive house. We cleared a couple of houses and found no one. It was quite a run to the next house. Goodwin led the way, and had just put his hand on the door handle when the whole German army cut loose. Not from that house but from another one nearby. Goodwin was hit and dropped. The three of us following him hit the ground behind a low concrete wall, We lay there for what seemed like hours. Private First Class Fred Hurst of Hailey, Idaho, was worried about Goodwin. ‘We’ve got to get him out,’ Hurst exclaimed. ‘He might die from loss of blood or exposure.’ Hurst then began to crawl out toward Goodwin. It seemed as though he would be killed any minute, but he made it and dragged Goodwin back safely. Talk about ‘Greater love hath no man,’ Hurst knew the risk; he knew that crawling out there was inviting almost certain death. Yet he never faltered, and he brought Goodwin back. The Captain from the 276th was also hit. Both legs were useless and he was helpless. He called for someone to go back for bazooka rounds and rifle grenades. Hurst started back to get the ammo; he probably figured if he could do it once, he could do it again. This time he didn’t make it. A burst of machine gun fire tore his face to shreds.


— 101 —

It was sometime later, and with the support of a tank, that we cleared the next house after a brisk battle, and then we withdrew when the 276th pulled back with 13 Kraut prisoners.

The squad from G Company had joined an attack by the 1st Plat. (-) of Company A, 276th, which had started its advance on Wingen at 0800 that morning. Led by Lt. Arnest, 29 men moved north along the Zittersheim road, according to a report by S/Sgt. Richard Armstrong. At first it seemed like a picnic as the two squads progressed without opposi-tion, but then they suddenly encountered intense fire from three directions, slowing and finally stopping the advance, The CO, Capt. Hendrickson came forward to speed things up, but was hit when he rushed out into the open. Late in the day, tanks moved up to evacuate the wounded and dead, and the platoon withdrew with 13 prisoners and 10 casual-ties, while inflicting an estimated 12 casualties on the enemy. It was fortunate that a serious firefight did not develop between the men of Company A and Company G, 274th, moving into their flanks from the west. Neither company knew the location and plans of the other. This was all part of the general confusion which prevailed. The plan of attack by the 276th that day (January 5th) which I learned later, was as follows: 3rd Bn. to continue its assault eastward on the northside of the RR tracks, with Company C (Capt. Greenwalt, CO) attached, mak-ing the main effort through L Company, preceded by a heavy mor-tar concentration by Co. M. From the south, one platoon from Company A to advance along the road from Zittersheim. One platoon of tanks to support with fire from high ground to the south.


— 102 —

At the same time, the remaining troops from Companies B and I would attempt to enter the village through the underpass, accom-panied by a platoon of tanks from Co. B, 781st Tk. Battalion. This joint infantry-tank effort suffered heavy losses, The tank-ers thought the high ground to the left was held by friendly forces, but immediately learned otherwise. As the lead tank moved for-ward, a German bazooka team was hidden behind a house, waiting until it was at close range, and then opened fire. The tank was dis-abled, and its crew killed or wounded by small arms fire. Sergeant Richard Struthers, Company B, 276th, recalls the ac-tion:

Three Sherman tanks joined us at the underpass, and under Lt. Babar we tried to move into the town, but we were met by a large volume of fire from the front and from the right rear. One of the tanks slid off the icy road, and another one was hit by bazooka fire after it had gone on through. The tank commander said we had to clear out that German ba-zooka team. My BAR man went out after it, but was struck between the eyes. It was certain suicide to go out into the open; so we finally stayed where we were.

Lt. Edwin David Cooke (Los Angeles, Calif.), Company B, 276th, had also survived the SS surprise attack the night of 3-4 January, and was now with the composite group trying desperately to break from the underpass, and into town:

The Jerries had machine guns and snipers covering the tun-nel under the railroad. One of the tanks did a good job of knocking out a few of them, and we got a few more. The first tank advanced about 200 yards into town, but was promptly knocked out with bazooka fire, That left us with two tanks and a few less doughboys, all crowded into and around the tunnel.


— 103 —

A few minutes later, a Jerry machine gunner started fir-ing at us from the rear. There we were, boxed up in the tunnel, a tank at each end, and fire coming at us from the front and rear. Each time we tried to advance a few men alongside a tank, they would be cut down; and we were forced to stay in the protection of the tunnel. Finally, a few of us decided to make another effort and push on through. Myself, Lt. Peebles (Co. I), a Captain, and three men started out alongside one of the tanks. The tank moved forward and then stopped. I looked around, and there was only Lt. Peebles and myself. The others had dashed back into the tunnel. The tank kept advancing, and the two of us went with it, not daring to expose ourselves to the hail of lead that was on all sides of the tank. They were firing at us with all they had, and they had plenty. Eventually, we came to a place where the ditch by the road was a couple of feet deep; so we dove for it and laid low while the bullets whizzed into the dirt above us. The tank was knocked out. We lay quiet and said a few prayers. Looking back, I saw the other tank with Lt. Babar and about five men crouching at its side, trying to work their way toward use I realized that these men had volunteered to try and rescue us. I signaled to them, trying to make them understand we were not wounded, and for them to get back to the tunnel while they could. They advanced up to a few yards behind us, and the men dove for the ditch; but the Germans had them spotted, and two were killed in the ditch and a third was wounded in the leg. The tank stopped where they lay, and I could hear the tanker say, ‘This is your last chance to get back… let’s go.’ They jumped behind the steel hull and made it back to the tunnel. The two of us were too far forward to make a run for the tank; so we lay there with a sinking feeling in the pits of our stomach, and praying that darkness would come rap-idly. That left only the two of us-and whatever members of


— 104 —

the knocked-out tank crew still alive - the only Americans in a town that was held, very securely held, by the Ger-mans. It was freezing cold, snow lay all around, and under us, but there was nothing we could do except curl up where we lay and wait.

Communication Sergeant LeRoy Rowley, Co. B, 276th, was with the men in the underpass and had watched the first two tanks disappear around the corner, and no one had returned after they had been hit. He remembers very vividly:

We thought at first that they had been hit by .88 fire, but the 3rd and last tanker was sure that it was fire from a ba-zooka (panzerfaust). The tank CO said he would only go as far as the corner, but he needed more infantry men round him, 1st Sgt. “Barney”(Barnett) said to me, ‘Come on, let’s go, we can’t keep sending the kids.’ So we started out with “Barney” at the left front and I was at the right. As we reached the corner, I looked back and saw our men falling forward. Bullets were ricocheting off the road from Ger-man fire coming from the high ground to our left rear. I yelled to “Barney” and he jumped into the gutter. I climbed on the front of the tank and yelled into the slot, and then we backed up to the underpass. When we got back, I told them that “Barney” wasn’t hit, but was in the ditch. They agreed to go back one more time since nothing ‘big’ had fired at them. When they came back the last time, we didn’t see anybody with them, but “Barney” crawled out from underneath! He had been on his back holding onto the trailer hitch and sliding on his heels and butt on the icy road. We lost a lot of men, and I’ll always remember “Big” (T/4) Jim Reed as he stood there afterwards with tears run-ning down his face while he dished out rations. I was last in line, and he said, ‘God, there’s only 38 of you left!


— 105 —

All three attacks by the 276th had been stopped; so for the sec-ond straight day they had not succeeded in dislodging the enemy, which still held the lower (eastern) portion of the village and the dominating terrain overlooking it. These attacks were doomed before they started. Lieutenant Colonel Iverson, CO of 3rd Bn., 276th, had been told there were only a few enemy forces; whereas there were approximately 800 of them, firmly entrenched and fortified. Iverson’s composite batta-lion was about half that strength. These SS troops were veteran mountain fighters, and were rested after no combat for several months. Fortunately for the Americans, they had not brought their heavy mortars with them; and their encircling tactics had cut them off from their base of sup-ply, Also, unknown to the American forces, they were out of radio communications with rear headquarters, and unable to request ar-tillery support. Lt. Wolf Zoepf, 3rd Bn., 12th SS Regt, in his account, stated:

First Tank alarm! Five enemy tanks on the road from west advancing into Wingen. A small anti-tank troop of the 1st Bn. succeeds in destroying the first tanks by bazooka fire at short distance, whereupon the other tanks turn and retreat in high gear. Supporting infantry which advanced with the tanks, is quickly repulsed. Great jubilation at 1st Battalion!

Meanwhile, back at the 361st VG Div. CP, Gen. Philippi had not been able to continue his offensive, awaiting the arrival of the reinforced regiment from the 257th VG Division. The balance of the 12th SS Regt. had arrived, but they were needed to take over the right wing of his badly mauled 953rd Inf. Regt. in the vicinity of Wildenguth and Saegmuhle. Philippi’s radio system had proved a complete failure in the heavily wooded terrain, and he had received no word from the 2 SS Battalions in Wingen. Several assault teams from the 12th SS Regt.


— 106 —

and the 953rd VG Regt. had attempted to reach Wingen with sup-plies and ammunition, but none had returned. Further discouraging news came via incomplete radio mes-sages from his 1st Bn., 951st, and the 506th Panzer Grenadier Bn. urgently requesting help in Wimmenau area. His artillery support had been increased with four additional battalions, but his fighting strength had dwindled to an estimated 30% due to losses from exposure to the weather. In addition, en-emy counter attacks ( U.S. 79th Div) in the Reipertswiller area had taken a further toll. Philippi was not optimistic about his next general offensive planned for January 7th.


Infantry Attacks Through the Village

INGEN-SUR-MODER, 5 January 1945: The winter night settled rapidly, and darkness soon enveloped the little village and the foreboding hills around it. Within

the town a few buildings were burning, casting an eerie glow over the roof tops and reflecting a lurid glare from the few surrounding windows which had not been smashed. The noise of the shooting gradually dwindled and then died out.

W As yet I had not learned the exact location of the 276th Inf. troops other than my brief knowledge of the general location of Col. Iverson’s battalion on the other side of the railroad track somewhere. My lack of knowledge was evidently shared by others, for a tragic incident occurred shortly after dark which demon-strated how horribly confused everyone was. Some of the men in Easy Company had managed to enter a few of the houses along the south edge of town, and here is a story told by one of them:

The town was quiet and no one could help hearing the jeep that came up the road from Zittersheim not long after dark. We were surprised that it had not stopped at the edge of the woods, and could not understand where it was going. Sud-denly the awful truth flashed into our minds - the men in the jeep did not know that the town was held by Germans. They did not know that they were calmly driving through the front lines into enemy territory.

We yelled to the jeep driver, but he speeded on into the town. If we had foreseen what was to happen, we might have fired at it

— 107 —


— 108 —

ourselves in an effort to stop it, but it was too late. Not more than a 100 yards past our house, the German machine guns opened up on the jeep. We could hear the motor roaring and the men screaming. It turned our blood cold to hear them. It was terrible. One man came crawling back on his hands and knees, wounded. The jeep, we learned, belonged to the 276th, and was driven by Pfc. Orville Ellis of St. Louis, Mo., who relates the following account:

Charlie Company began its attack that morning by laying down a base of fire from a hill on the north side, overlook-ing Wingen. We jumped off across a large expanse of open ground, and were successful at first, but then encountered heavy resistance and had a fierce fire fight. During the fight, our company commander (Capt. Greenwalt) received reports that We were dangerously low on .30 cal. ammo and grenades; so I was dispatched on foot to the rear Company CP to load up a jeep and trailer with ammunition, and then return with CP personnel as an es-cort. Since I knew the route back, I was elected to drive. All went well until we approached the outermost buildings of the town. At about 50-60 yards the Germans caught us in a cross-fire with machine guns. Later it was determined that the Germans had infiltrated beck, after I had gone out. Two of our escort on foot were wounded. One crawled away to safety; the other could not, end was taken prisoner. With the initial burst of fire the Germans riddled the jeep. I grabbed for my carbine, got the strap tangled in the gear shift and bailed out into roadside ditch, leaving the carbine. The First Sgt. bailed out into the same ditch. Fires burning in the buildings would flare up, lighting the jeep end area. At each flare-up, the Germans would spray the area. After several of these sprayings, I told the first sgt he could do what he wanted, but I was getting out. We had overcoats on, wriggled out of them; and at the next die down of fires, took off running, right through e chicken wire fence.


— 109 —

After being challenged end threatened to be shot a cou-ple of times by our own, we were finally taken to some out-fits CP where en officer called Div. We were driven to Div. at once, where we were taken to a room full of brass, in-cluding Gen. Herren. We were asked to point out on the map where the Krauts had the machine guns. Then a recon patrol, with us as guides, was dispatched to feel out the situation end report back. By the time we got back reasonably close to the ambush point, the Krauts had the jeep and trailer and used our 50 Cal., in addition to theirs, on us. The recon patrol pulled back, and the two of us were dropped off. Found out later that the Krauts got the jeep running that night and used the 50 Cal. ell night and then drove the jeep out. We were charged for the jeep end trailer, technically, for sometime after. The jeep was found abandoned much later and returned to us. The trailer was not.

Since the initial German assault on 4 January, other unseen dramas had been taking place among the civilians who remained underground in the village. Mlle. Anny Mathie and Madame Paula Felden were with their families in separate cellars, about 100 yards apart. Mlle. Mathie was near the RR Station. This part of her story begins after daylight on January 4th:

The sound of shooting continued during the morning. American weapons had taken positions in the Kirchberg Forest (to the south) and responded with artillery fire to anything that moved. To make matters worse, the Germans positioned a ma-chine gun on the first floor, which was silenced very shortly. The soldier who operated it rolled down the stairs, wounded. We received many hits on the house and fre-quently were unable to see because of the dust and gun smoke.


— 110 —

We learned the names of all the German soldiers who walked in and out of our basement. We shared our provi-sions with them, since they had received no supplies. In the evening (January 5th), a corporal who belonged to the staff in the cellar across the way told me that his commanding officer had ordered us to move, our cellar being needed for a battle post. We were extremely frightened. There was no place to go, and night was falling. We told him we did not intend to leave. After a few minutes and with an earth shattering “Heil Hitler,” our cellar door popped open and there stood the Commanding Officer, his eyes sparkling followed by sev-eral soldiers. Dead silence fell in the cellar and he started to yell at us: ‘you don’t want to leave, I’ll, teach you!’ We told him we didn’t know where to go. It was pitch black outside, and the machine guns were firing. Then in a mock-ing voice, he told us: “All right, you can stay.” He said something to his soldiers and then they walked away. Seconds later, one of the soldiers dashed back in out of breath and whispered: ‘ Take your stuff and get the hell out as fast as you can!’ Needless to say, we grabbed our things and ran out into the dark night. With us was the brother of the former director of the glass factory. He was on a visit, but was trapped by the events and unable to leave the village. We headed for his brother’s house (north of RR tracks), stumbling over fences, wires, bricks and other debris in the darkness. Bul-lets whizzed around our heads, bite rushed through the sky, and smoke and flames filled the night. We had reached the underpass (to the east) which led to the house, when my grandmother said: ‘I can’t go on anymore,’ and fell down. After a few gasps, she died. With great efforts, we managed to drag her up the hill to the house, where soldiers with rifles and bazookas were running around. ‘Where are you going?’ they shouted, ‘Don’t you know this house is under constant fire?’ We were so exhausted it didn’t matter. The soldiers led us to the cellar where we stepped over dead and wounded Ger-


— 111 —

mans by the tight of a candle. My grandmother was brought by the soldiers to the laundry room. We slumped down on a pile of coat, trying to recover from our horrors, but the freezing cold air coming through the broken cellar windows, forced us to search for a better place. We found a niche under the stairway where we hud-dled together. We had barely settled there when a shell crashed through the wall and landed in the coal pile where we had been only a minute before. Pieces of coal slashed around the dark room, and there was a gaping hole in the wall. We had narrowly escaped death again.

Madame Paula Felden was in the cellar of the Hotel Wenk with her critically ill mother, relatives, and friends:

After the first assault (January 4th) by the Germans the combat soon began again; machine guns barked without rest. A medic showed up in our cellar to see if there were any wounded people in it, but he could not help our mother. He said, “We are establishing a bridgehead over here (Moder River), but if we don’t receive reinforcements we will be encircled and finished.” He added that he had been with the attack on Poland and also in Russia, Norway, and Sweden, but had never seen anything like this battle before. He said that they had come from Finland to Wingen. On 5 January, after a relatively quiet night, the shooting started all over again. That evening, more neighbors joined us after they had managed to extinguish a fire that had bro-ken out in their house. Now, there were about 26 people in our cellar. We still had light because we owned our own generator since about 1920. This source of electricity al-lowed us to listen to the radio and follow the battle of Win-gen. Suddenly the lights went out, and we were in the dark except for home candlelight. The air was full of tension and fear, and whenever the shooting stopped, we could hear my mother moaning. Then, the bells of the Protestant Church started to toll. We interpreted this as a sign of an armistice


— 112 —

and we were relieved that the fighting had ended. But, we were regrettably wrong. The battle went on. Apparently one of the bells had been hit and caused the other bell to toll.

By night time, 5 January, my battalion had accomplished virtu-ally nothing other than to reach a location where we would be readily available for a continuation in the morning. We busied our-selves with the preparation of positions for the wretched, nightly vigil and when this was completed, I started the trek back through the dark woods to the battalion CP. It was a lonesome trail and both Boyea and I kept our weapons pointed to the sides, ready to shoot on the least provocation. Ger-man patrols still roamed these thick woods, and we had received reports from our communications chief that it was almost impossi-ble to maintain a telephone line from the CP to the OP. On several occasions, our wire patrols had discovered the lines severed and dragged back several hundred yards into the thickets. I dreaded this drive, especially when our blacked-out vehicle moved so slowly and so noisily through the thick groves, with the bushes slapping against the sides. My ungloved right hand was almost frozen to the metallic trigger of my carbine by the time we reached Puberg. The CP was quiet when I walked in. There seemed to be a hush and pall over everything, and I could tell by the faces that my men were feeling the effects of their lack of sleep and their first experi-ence of having men killed. The reports from the Aid Station had come in, and Sgt. Counts looked up at me, shook his head, and said: “There’s a lot of men getting hurt up there, Colonel—four killed and twenty-four wounded, most of them in George Company.” The cold figures staggered me, for I hadn’t realized that so many had been hit. I was glad only a few had been killed. I didn’t say anything for a few seconds as I stood there staring at the light in the far corner.


— 113 —

War had always seemed such a useless waste to me, and now it seemed even more so when I thought about these fine young men, who represented the heart of our country and all the good things for which it stood. The horrors of war had been a part of my life since an early age when I first learned about the sadness, misery, and wanton destruc-tion caused by them. During World War I, my young father, a Na-tional Guard Lieutenant, succumbed to the “flu epidemic” of 1918, seven days before the Armistice; my grandmother had told me sto-ries about her childhood ordeals in Charleston, South Carolina, during the Civil War bombardment: a cannon ball down the chim-ney and dead soldiers on the porch; and my great grandfather had joined other defeated men in the long hike from Virginia to a dev-astated Georgia homeland. Secretly, I had hoped my generation would be spared, and that our leaders would wisely counteract any attempts to create another one; yet, here I was in the midst of the greatest conflict ever, and had just received my first battle casualty report. It didn’t seem real that some of my men had actually been killed and wounded. It all seemed like a dream, My deep feelings gradually changed from shocking surprise to one of slow, burning anger. I slowly nodded by head up and down, bit my lip, and said, “I know it, Counts … and a lot of them could have been prevented if there hadn’t been so damn much confusion up there. I’ve never seen such a mess in my life … nobody knows what they’re doing.” My staff and I then went into a huddle, exchanging ideas on the best plan for the next day. We arrived at no satisfactory solution. There were too many unanswered questions: What were the plans of the 276th to whom had been assigned the task of clearing the vil-lage? What was the situation in town? How much had been cleared? In the midst of our discussion, the phone rang. It was for me. “White 6 speaking,” I said. It was Gen. Herren.


— 114 —

“Come over to the 276th Inf. CP in Zittersheim right away,” he said. “Yes, sir,” I answered, and then turning to the group around me, I said, “ Well, it looks like we might learn something at last. That was General Herren and he wants me to come to the 276th CP right away.—Boyea, you’d better go with me—Boyd, you look out for things while I’m gone.” A few minutes later, we were again out in the black night, driv-ing over the frozen roads. It took almost an hour to make the three mile trip and when we finally located the CP, Gen. Herren was there waiting for us and evidently had his mind made up, for he didn’t waste many words. The General was sitting at a table in the dimly lit room, looking at a map sprawled in front of him under the gasoline lantern. Colo-nel Morgan was there and so was Lt.Col. “Danny” Russell, Mor-gan’s exec. I had known “Danny” since the early days when the division was at Camp Adair, Oregon. He and I both had battalions there, and then we had gone to Fort Leavenworth’s Command and General Staff School together. He was one of the better battalion commanders and I had lots of respect for his judgment. He and I engaged in a few words of conversation and then the General called me over. I sat down across the table from him. “Cheves,” he said, “do you think you can chase those Germans out of Wingen?” I felt certain that we could and without hesitating, I answered, “Yes, sir.” He went on. “Is your battalion in position ready to attack the very first thing in the morning?” “Yes, sir,” I replied and waited for him to continue, wondering what he would say next. “Well,” he said, “I’ve decided to put you in full command of the entire operation. All of Col. Morgan’s troops are attached to


— 115 —

you for the job. In addition, you will have a company of tanks at-tached.” I was somewhat surprised by the unexpected turn of events, and I sat spellbound for a minute while the General continued on. I took out my notebook and started writing rapidly as he gave me his plan. This is the information he gave… “There are only a few Germans in town, not more than fifty I’d say, and you should have the town cleared by noon. You will at-tack at 0800 tomorrow morning - from the west only. “I want to call your attention to the fact that there are quite a few American troops held prisoners by the Germans in the town. They are reported to be in two separate buildings: some in the church and some in a building marked with a big red cross sign. Now I want you to get them out as soon as possible, and you’ll have to be careful not to fire any artillery on those buildings. “There are several things that you will have to do tonight. You must see that all of your men have hand grenades and I want you to organize some flame thrower teams. Also be sure your men are fed a hot meal before the attack in the morning. “Now, you can use the troops of the 276th anyway you see fit, and they have an artillery observer who can give you all the sup-port you need. Also the Cannon Co. of the 276th is at your dis-posal.” “Are there any questions?” “Yes, Sir,” I said, “I have a few things I’d like to clear up.” “All right,” he replied, “what are they?” “I’d like to know the exact location of the 276th Inf. troops and also how I can get in touch with these other people who are to sup-port me, the tank company and the artillery observer in particular.” Danny Russell spoke up. “We’ll show you where our troops are and contact the artillery observer for you.” The General added, “And the tank company commander will report to you the first thing in the morning.”


— 116 —

Well, that was that. It seemed to me that they would have ar-ranged to have had all those people there, for they certainly had time to assemble everyone. I had been given a lot of troops and support on paper, but lacked the personal coordination which was vitally needed. That was the situation though; so there was nothing to do but make the best of it. General Herren and I were discussing the plan of attack when the telephone rang. It was for Gen. Herren, and he picked up the receiver. I knew it was some higher brass, for the General’s part of the conversation was very limited. “Yes, sir” … “Yes, sir”… “Yes, sir”… ”Yes, sir,” we’ll have it cleaned up tomorrow”…”Yes, sir”…”Yes, sir”…”Yes, sir, eh” … “Well, I have the right man, now, General, and we’ll have it cleaned up by 11:00 o’clock to-morrow…”Yes, Sir.” I knew he was talking about Wingen, and I felt just the least bit proud about his remark. When the General hung up, he said, “That was the Corps Commander, and he is very anxious to have this town cleaned up. Cheves, I’m going to be right there with you to-morrow, and I’ll meet you at your CP and go forward with you. What time will you leave?” “Six o’clock, sir.” “I’ll meet you then, and I guess you’d better have a guide out on the road so I’ll be sure and not miss you.” The General left a few minutes later. Boyea and I stayed on, for there was still much coordination to do before we could leave. Danny Russell did all the talking for the 276th. Colonel Morgan had very little to say, and just hung around in the background as we arranged the details. I didn’t think about it at the time, for I was so engrossed with the detailed planning that I never gave a thought to the fact that he was set aside while I took command of his troops. Later on, when I had time to think about it, I realized that I probably should have said something to him, but I doubt if I could have said anything appropriate at the time.


— 117 —

In general, the disposition of the 276th was as follows: the 3rd Bn. under Col. Iverson was, as previously stated, on the north side of the railroad; the 1st Bn. under a Capt. Curtis Brooks was some-where along the woods to the south of town in a defensive posi-tion; the 2nd Bn. was in another area (Wimmenau). Both the 1st and 3rd Bns. had suffered severe casualties: Col. Iverson was only able to muster about a company and a half, and Capt. Brooks was minus his Baker Company which had been reportedly wiped out a few days ago when the Germans first struck. My final plan was: My battalion would attack from its present position; Col. Iverson’s 3rd Bn. would continue its present attack abreast of us and drive the Germans off the commanding ground which loomed like a tower on the north side of town; Capt. Brooks’ battalion would stay in its present position, available on call, and prepared to repel a possible German counter attack. It was midnight by the time the last plan had been coordinated and we were on our way back to Puberg, and another sleepless night. The Company Commanders were called in, and plans for the attack were made. The CP that night was as far from the typical CP of maneuvers in the States as can be imagined. The planning was done under a small light in the far corner of the room. All around, the floor was covered with outstretched GI’s trying to catch a few minutes sleep. The walls were bare except for loosely draped army blankets which hung over the windows to keep the light from shining out-side. Everything was quiet except for the soft talking in the far corner. Sergeant Thorsby, Operations Sergeant, was busy making enlarged sketches of the town. The air felt close, tight, and stuffy in the overcrowded room. I debated over and over in my mind as to what would be my final plan of attack: “If there were only a few Germans in the town as Gen. Herren had stated, then I should go ahead with a full scale attack with two companies assaulting abreast of each other. That


— 118 —

plan would be no good, however, if there happened to be more Germans in the town. If there were, it would be better to launch the attack with only one company, and thus learn their location before committing the rest of the battalion. I decided on the latter plan, mainly because I had been taught to estimate the enemy’s capabilities as the worst thing he could do. In this case, the worst thing was for the enemy to have a large number of troops in town, prepared to defend it to the limit. After my mind was made up, the next thing to decide was, “Which company will it be?” Fox Company was the logical one, for they had seen little ac-tion so far. Besides, Capt. Davenport was my most experienced company commander. On the other hand, George Company was more familiar with the terrain since they had already been up there; however, one look at Casey’s tired face gave me an insight into the fatigued condition of his men after two days and nights of continu-ous action. I did not consider Capt. Sisson’s company too strongly, for they were betwixt and between, having seen more action than Fox Company, but not as much as George. This was an important decision, for the final answer would mean which company would have the most men alive the next night. I decided to straddle the fence, so asked: “Would any com-pany commander like to volunteer to have his company spearhead the attack in the morning?” I looked around the group and waited for an answer. All of them kept their heads down and none said a word. I waited a full minute before saying, “Well, Dave, you’re it.” Davenport looked up at me and said, “Yes, sir,” and then looked back down at the notebook in his hand. Here was my plan: Fox Company would jump off at 0800, pre-ceded by a 15 minute artillery barrage. Easy Company would mop up behind them, on the right. George Company would remain in reserve. The first platoon of heavy machine guns would be in di-


— 119 —

rect support of Fox while the rest of How Company would be in general support under my control. The battalion anti-tank platoon would go into positions along the edge of the woods and be pre-pared to support the attack with direct fire. The planning continued throughout the night as company commanders, in turn, issued orders to their platoon leaders. There wasn’t much time left when the last order was issued and the CP was cleared. Everyone moved forward for the attack. General Herren arrived promptly at 0600, January 6, and we started forward over the now well traveled trail. Even then it was spooky as all hell and we stayed constantly on the alert with our guns ready. It was still dark when we dismounted a few hundred yards in rear of our foremost positions and started threading our way for-ward through the thick woods. We passed the dark hulk of the ammunition truck parked off the trail a few feet. The men were busy unloading the ammo. Silent figures passed by, carrying arm loads down the trail toward the front lines. One of the men by the truck was heard to say: “God damnit, be careful with those hand grenades! You want to blow us all to hell?” We moved on, with Lt. Dave Johnson (S-2) leading, and soon came to the battalion OP. It was located in a cluster of bushes, about a hundred yards to the rear of where I had been the day be-fore. Fox holes had already been dug; so we left the General there and proceeded on toward the house which Lt. Kiefer had been in the day before when the shells came through. It was seven o’clock and dark. Down below, the village rested peacefully. All was quiet and there wasn’t a light showing. The black shapes of the buildings could barely be discerned even though they contrasted sharply with the white snow.


— 120 —

The dark clouds gradually scurried away and then the first tinge of gray appeared in the sky. Faces could be recognized now. Everyone had to be careful for the enemy must not learn our plans. All along the edge of the woods, men waited quietly, like vul-tures ready to swoop down on their pray. Time passed slowly while we waited with mixed emotions. Some men lay flat on their bellies in the snow; others crouched behind small bushes or trees. Machine guns were dug in, and the gunners sprawled in the holes behind them. Everyone looked tired and yet alert. Faces were dark with whiskers and white with cold. For three nights we had gone with-out sleep; our food had been meager, mostly “K” and “C” rations. Davenport’s men were moving cautiously around to the right into their attack position. He was not going to attack across the open ground. Instead, he was moving to the edge of the woods. The men filed by, one by one, keeping well back and out of sight. Big Dave was up front talking to the platoon leaders and sergeants who were gathered around him. His executive officer, Lt. Lee Mahon was standing next to him, bundled in a big fur jacket. Mahon was the burly type, an ex ser-geant himself. Next to Mahon was Davenport’s radio operator, Pfc. Wayne Morningstar of Toledo, Ohio, one of the best in the battal-ion. Wherever Big Dave went, Morningstar dogged behind at his heels. Company F’s plan of attack was from the south on the Zitter-sheim road, moving past the row of houses to the underpass, turn east to the road fork where the 1st Plat. (Lt. Davis) would go to the right, followed by the reserve 3rd Plat. (Lt. Haines); the 2nd Plat. (Lt. Della-Bianca) would take the left fork along the railroad em-bankment. Since this was his company’s first attack, Capt. Davenport elected to be with the foremost assault group of the 1st Platoon.


— 121 —

His light machine guns and mortars would support the attack, together with a platoon of heavy machine guns from H Company. There wasn’t much time left when the General’s aide came up and told me the General wanted to see me. I walked back a little way, and there was the General standing behind a large tree in the forest. He would have been a prime target for an enemy sniper, who could conceivably be hidden in the thick woods. “Cheves,” he said, “I want you to tell your company com-manders to rush through to the far end of town. There are only a few Germans in there and they shouldn’t lose any time cleaning them out. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they haven’t all pulled out.” Yes, Sir,” I replied. “I want you to get that information to them right away, for you haven’t much time.” I said, “Yes, sir,” and headed back. I wasn’t in favor of that at all. The plans had been made and I didn’t want to send any last minute messages to the company commanders unless it was of an emergency nature. I went on back to the O.P. and told Boyea what the General had said. “Huh, I’d just forget it,” was Jerry’s reaction to the message; so we let the matter ride. Not for long though, because a few minutes later the General’s aide was back. “Sorry to bother you again Colonel,” he said, “but the General would like to know if you have delivered that message yet?” “Tell him we are delivering it now,” I said, and as soon as he departed, I sent word to Davenport. “Proceed through the town as rapidly as possible.” Naturally, Davenport was going to proceed through the town as rapidly as he possibly could, and I imagined he thought I had gone nuts when he received that message. Well, after All, orders were orders.


— 122 —

Already the General had disturbed me some, and I had qualms about the rest of the day. His standing behind me was like having a huge, dark cloud hanging over my head. The tank commander had not arrived, as I had been told, which meant that Davenport would not be able to coordinate attack plans with him. Promptly at 0745, the first shells whined in, and there was a helluva racket for the next fifteen minutes. Shortly before H Hour, our machine guns chirped in, adding a steady rhythmic hammering to the din. At 8:00 o’clock sharp, Capt. Davenport’s voice came in clear. “Moving out”…that was all, and the attack was on. From my vantage point, I had a clear view, Our artillery shifted to the hill north of town and was now plastering it with smoke. The machine gunners kept up their chatter, raising their sights the least bit, to the schedule of supporting fires. The first few minutes dragged by. So far, the Germans had not fired, or at least I had not heard their slick “dadadada.” Could it be possible that the General was right, and the Germans had actually withdrawn? Then I heard it. It sounded somewhat like the sharp pecking of a woodpecker on a telephone pole and yet it had that deathly sound of an irritated rattlesnake. “Dadadadadada … … dadadadada.” The Germans had opened up, and I felt an inward flinch as I listened to their bullets slip through the air. Our slower-firing machine guns mixed in with theirs, and for the next ten minutes, there was a constant hail of lead over the bat-tle area as each side vied for fire superiority. Neither side won. It was a doughboy’s fight, and it was up to the man with the M1 in his hand to bear the brunt of the attack. Fox Company had passed the underpass and was moving east into town before it encountered heavy German resistance. All at once, there was an eruption of machine gun and rifle fire.


— 123 —

I waited expectantly for a report from Davenport. Minutes seemed like hours while I kept my ear to the radio. Finally the sus-pense was broken. It was Davenport speaking, his breath coming in gasps, “I’ve been wounded, but I’m not stopping. We’ll drive them out.” The last sentence was said with determination, and I could visualize him as he gritted his teeth. I only had time to say “Okay” before he was gone again. Everything had gone fine until Fox Company reached the road fork, east of the underpass. Suddenly someone yelled, “Watch out for the blue house!” It was the one dead ahead to the front, At a range of 20 yards, the Germans cut loose with deadly machine gun fire. The burst did lots of damage. Technical Sergeant William Har-ris was killed instantly and fell in the middle of the road, Capt. Davenport, T/Sgt. Tom Johnson, Morningstar, Beran, Davis, and Cramer were all wounded and headed for a drainage ditch nearby. Robert Davis didn’t make it. A burst caught him in the middle and he doubled over, dead. The rest made it and laid in the snow while the bullets continued to chop into the bank, only a few inches overhead. Lucas crawled up the ditch to a point opposite the house and started throwing grenades into the window … the machine gun stopped. Capt. Davenport spotted a German with a bazooka lying on the far side of the house; Zucker got him with his rifle. “We tried to send Capt. Davenport back to the rear,” recalled T/Sgt. Russell Larson of Plano, Illinois, “He wouldn’t go, ‘This isn’t anything,’ he said. ‘We have to go on,’ Morningstar had been wounded, also, but wouldn’t give up his radio. “The advance continued up the shallow ditch since it offered the only cover available, We felt as though the whole damned German Army was watching us.” The shouted warning had come from a 276th Lieutenant who had been lying in the ditch all night, since the 276th attack had


— 124 —

pulled back the afternoon before. There were two Lieutenants in the ditch, Glenn Peebles of La Mesa, Calif., (Co. I) and Edwin David Cooke from Los Angeles (Co. B). They had been with a composite company from 3rd Bn., 276th, and unable to move back, pinned down by heavy automatic fire. Throughout the night, the two platoon leaders lay in the snow, playing dead. German patrols had come along and searched their pockets, kicked them, took their weapons and wrist watches, Later, Lt. Cooke said, “When they took Peebles’ knife from his belt, we thought sure we were done for; and when they took my wrist watch I thought they would dis-cover my pulse was beating.” Enemy resistance increased as Fox Company pushed on. Over the entire battle area, there was a constant racket of various, con-trasting weapons. Sergeant Hammerloff’s squad had been instructed to protect the right flank. Private First Class Orville Tuskey told the fellows in the aid station about it:

There wasn’t a bit of cover, so we took off on a run across the open snow, in plain sight of the enemy. We had on all the clothes we owned, including the heavy shoe pacs, but we still ran like hell. The enemy spotted us as soon as we started, and machine guns cut loose from our left and from the cemetery to our front. The bullets came closer and closer and then some of the men stumbled, staggered and fell. I dove for the cover of the nearby Moder creek but some men made the mistake of hitting the ground, hoping the bullets would go overhead. A man’s first impulse is to hit the ground when bullets start whizzing around, but that isn’t always the best thing to do. Sergeant Hammerloff and about half the squad made it to the creek with me, but the other six men, Kuffel, Pruitt, Peplow, Gilmore, Watkins, and Wengren, never made it. All those guys were caught out in the open and lay where


— 125 —

they were hit. The Krauts continued to rake the area un-mercifully. The six of us along the bank of the creek weren’t much better off. Bullets churned into the snow banks as we tried to crawl back toward a bend in the creek. Sergeant Ham-merloff yelled, “I’m hit;,” and then Neuhaus was wounded in the leg and rolled down into the freezing water. The next burst sprayed snow in my face, and without hesitation I plunged into the icy water by Neuhaus. One by one, the other fellows splashed in. We tried to get Hammerloff, but he said: ‘Stay right there, I’ll be OK.’ When the shooting finally died down, we went to get him, but it was too late - he was dead, a frozen mist covered his face and eye brows.

The light machine gun section was behind Hammerloff’s squad when Lt. Davis ordered them to move to the right and across the field. “It looked dangerous as hell to me,” recalled Sgt. Peter Derk-sen from Minnesota, “but when he yelled for us to come, off we went. The Krauts opened up right away. Downing was hit, and kept jumping up and down in the snow, hollering, ‘I’m hit, I’m hit, help me, help:’ I started towards him but before I could reach him, a bullet caught him smack in the stomach. One hit me right then. It went through my canteen which deflected it some, but I was para-lyzed from the waist down. I couldn’t move. Downing was moan-ing, ‘It hurts, it hurts,’ and died right there. “Gould and Roller were also hit while running across open ground. Sergeant Kraus took charge and the guns were placed into position and started firing; but it was too exposed. There weren’t any good positions anywhere around. The Krauts were in the cemetery ahead, and kept pouring the lead into us. Buckley, Jus-tice, and Rose were also wounded before it finally quieted down.” While Capt. Davenport was leading the assault in the ditch along the road on the right, Lt. Della-Bianca’s 2nd Plat. was mov-ing up the left road near the railroad embankment.


— 126 —

Led by S/Sgt. Whalen, the first squad headed rapidly toward the embankment. Corporal Carney tripped, and Sgt. Fajardo knelt down to help him, thinking he had been hit, but Carney struggled to his feet, and together they started after the rest of the squad. Suddenly a stream of machine gun bullets cracked by, tearing Car-ney’s clothes. They ducked, but a shot caught Fajardo across the face, and he dropped like a log. When Carney caught up with the rest of the squad, they were in a shallow ditch alongside the em-bankment. The Krauts were in the upper floors of the houses along the railroad tracks, looking right down their throats. Private First Class Fenstermacher shuddered as he told about it:

We tried to move forward, but couldn’t. Bruce, our scout, was killed right away. The deadly machine gun fire made it suicide to raise your head. We were at their mercy. Carney and Morvant were hit. Jones caught a bullet in his shoulder and started crawling over towards Morvant, but Morvant was saying, ‘Don’t bunch up now,’ when a grenade landed, killing both Morvant and Jones, and wounding Carney. Phillipsen raised up and started spraying the area with his BAR, even though he was wounded in the arm. A bullet caught him square in the forehead, and he slumped over in the ditch. God, it was awful! Sergeant Whalen was hit in the shoulder and then Mull and Hawkins were wounded. This was the end, and we felt it. Whalen was hit again, this time in the leg. Maxwell was next, and needed help, but no one could help him as he lay there, bleeding to death. The snow turned red around him as he gasped his last breath. All we could do was lie low and pray, and hope the Germans would think we were all dead. Out of the whole squad, only Leslie and I missed the Purple Heart, and Leslie had a bullet hole through his helmet.

In the meantime, the leading elements with Capt. Davenport, a bloody-looking group, were moving down the ditch. The Krauts


— 127 —

were waiting and watching, and held their fire until close range, then they cut loose with angry blasts. Sergeant Johnson was hit again, this time through the heart, and died instantly. Captain Dav-enport was struck twice more and started bleeding badly around the face. He was finally persuaded to go back, and Sgt. Petty took charge. Lt. Mahon started forward to take command, but was hit in the chest by a sniper’s bullet. Morningstar was hit again, this time by a bullet through the head, killing him instantly. The 3rd Plat. was right behind. “I was crawling up a ditch with my men when I came to Sgt. Wright at the road fork,” recalled Lt. Haines. “He told me what he knew of the situation. The 276th Lieuten-ant, who had yelled the warning, was still there, and another Lieu-tenant with him. They were almost dead from exposure. Neither of them had moved, and except for the shouted warning, we would have thought they were dead, too. “Captain Davenport came staggering back down the ditch. He was conscious, but his face was covered with blood, and he was bleeding badly. I thought Lt. Davis was up with Sgt. Petty, so I waited for the 1st Plat. to move on. Private First Class Scott, one of my men, got a bullet through the chest. Our medic, T/5 Fleck moved up to him, but he couldn’t stop the pulsating flow of blood.” “Fleck,” Scott murmured in a faint whisper, “I’m hit pretty bad, I won’t make it, say…say a prayer for me…” With these words, Fleck started a prayer, but before he could finish, Scott was dead, and Fleck had been hit in the thigh. The other medic, Mower, bandaged him up.” The rest of the 2nd Plat. on the left moved up behind Sgt. Whalen’s squad, but looked for another way to advance. Lieuten-ant Della-Bianca contacted Capt. Davenport on the radio and learned that the Capt. was wounded in the ditch to the right. Last


— 128 —

word heard from the company commander was, “Can you go on?” To which Della-Bianca replied, “I’ll try, but I don’t think it’s pos-sible.” Mortar shells plunged down, killing Leavelle and Lassiter; Becker, Berg, Silverman and Beckstedt were wounded. Sergeant Renzaglia and Pfc. Gerald Soper charged into the next house, throwing hand grenades as they blasted their way in. Krauts came pouring from the house and out into the open. We mowed them down mercilessly. We were fighting at a mad frenzy and had no time for prisoners. Sergeant Renzaglia’s squad had now pushed forward to take the lead, after Sgt. Brown’s squad had been stopped by the heavy enemy fire. “We were soon pinned down by the same fire that was holding up Brown’s squad,” recalls Sgt. Mater. “It was plenty uncomfortable as the Krauts continued to blast away. Luckily, no one was hit, but we knew it couldn’t last. Private First Class Dieckman dashed across the road and into a burning building. Somehow, the Krauts failed to bring him down as he ran across, Dieckman was really in a bad spot, all by himself. Ren-zaglia hollered to Sgt. Brown, “I’m going across,” and away he went, followed by Sgt. Brown, Pfc. Stanley Smith, Pfc. Soper, and myself. By the grace of God, we made it. “A Kraut machine gunner was spotted in the building ahead,” continued Mater. “Dieckman and Renzaglia let loose with a couple of grenades, and that was the end of him. Sergeant Brown followed close behind the explosion and dashed into the entrance. Two Krauts came running up from the basement;. Brown fired and the first one stumbled dead on the steps. The second one faded back into the cellar, We could hear them down there; so Brown stood guard at the top of the stairs while Soper, Smith, and I ran around the side, tossing grenades into the cellar through the openings. “It was a bloody battle at close range. The Krauts battled des-perately and refused to give up, firm volley after volley from the


— 129 —

basement window openings, while we kept throwing in our gre-nades. Soper was hit and fell right by one of the windows. He couldn’t move, so Brush, the medic, came up to help. “The basement windows were spitting death, but Brush moved calmly to where Soper lay. Four shots passed between his legs, knocking the bayonet off my rifle. Two WP grenades went off and caught Brush’s coat on fire. He yanked it off and headed back. Soper kept yelling, ‘Get the rats out of their hole .., get ‘em, boys.’ Renzaglia and I moved along a protective wall to toss some more grenades, Renzaglia yelled, ‘ Watch out, Soper, we’re going to throw some grenades.’ Hearing this, Soper used his one good aim and grabbed a grenade from under his shirt, pulled the pin with his teeth, and threw it through the window. “A loud explosion followed, and then a surviving enemy rifle-man stuck his rifle out the window, placed the muzzle against Soper’s chest and fired twice. This made us madder than all hell. Renzaglia and I ran up and tossed in a couple more grenades, hug-ging the wall for protection. Smith spied several Krauts in the win-dow above and let go with more grenades while we headed back. “Dieckman grabbed a German medical aid-man who came staggering out into the street and told him to go back into the house and tell them to surrender before we blasted the house with tank fire. We had no tanks, but the ruse worked. In a few minutes the medic came back with eleven prisoners. All except two were badly wounded by our grenades. Soper died shortly afterwards. “Together, the two squads started clearing up the immediate area. Twelve more prisoners were rounded up in the Red Cross building. The enemy still held the high ground to our left and the cemetery to the right. “Our positions were not too good because the enemy was con-centrating his fire in our direction. Lieutenant Della-Bianca could not get in touch with the rest of the company, but an SCR 300 ra-dio was sent down from the Battalion OP, and this was used to di-


— 130 —

rect 81mm mortar fire on the enemy positions, driving them out. We picked them off as they ran out into the open.” Back at the battalion OP, with my field glasses, I had a clear view of the battle below. Several times I had the urge to move forward down the hill to be nearer the action, but constrained myself with the realization it was my responsibility to remain in this location from which I could better control my battalion. Normally, there would have been an artillery officer with me to assist with supporting fire, but our 882nd Field Artillery Bn. had not as yet arrived overseas. Thus, we were dependent on our heavy weapons company, How, commanded by Capt. James Kidder (West Point ‘43) who was observing for enemy targets and directing the movements of his 2 machine gun platoons. His 81mm mortar platoon (our artil-lery) was under Lt. George S. Blanchard (West Point ‘44) who was also searching for targets. For additional fire support, the Bn.’s Anti-tank Plat., under Lt. John A. Copeland from Louisiana, was brought forward to a posi-tion where these 57 mm guns could fire directly at the enemy. As yet, there had been no requests from Davenport for support-ing fires on obstacles blocking his path. This was because the fighting was at close quarters, which could only be accomplished by the infantry soldier with his rifle, bayonet, and hand grenades. After awhile, Gen. Herren moved nearer my position, and started asking questions, such as: “What are they doing now?,” to which I replied: “They are attacking down the street,” or some such answer. It seemed to me that he could see as well as I could, but since I had one ear glued to the radio phone most of the time, I guess he was curious and thought I was not giving him a full ac-count. Actually, there was nothing coming in; but Boyea, Eckstein (my portable radio operator) and I kept a constant vigil.


— 131 —

Our OP was still out in the open, and ever so often we were raked by machine gun fire from the high ground to our left. This usually happened when the General had moved back into the woods. One time he was there, however, and the bullets were still rustling through the trees when he asked me, “What was that?” Rather nonchalantly, I replied, “Snipers … there are still a few of them in the woods around here, sir.” Private First Class Green, my driver, was squatting nearby, supposedly with the mission of protecting me against wandering Germans. The General spied him, and said, “You soldier, don’t sit there, go get those snipers!” Green edged away doubtfully. He had the look of a hound dog who was being chased away from a warm place by the fireside. I watched out of the corner of my eye while he moved stealthily around through the trees and circled back to another place close by. In all justice to Gen. Herren, I must say that he was a fine offi-cer, and there was nothing lacking in his courage. These incidents are presented as I saw them at the time. He was in a delicate posi-tion. If he had returned to his headquarters that night without suc-cess, I’m sure there would have been dire consequences. He was there to make certain that the job was done. So far, we had not received any enemy artillery, although we had observed numerous concentrations of fire in the surrounding area, not knowing whether they were friendly or not, since we had not heard the sounds of shells overhead. It was our thought that the lack of artillery was because the Germans did not know the exact location of their troops. Our present position had been held yester-day by the Germans; a few feet below me was a dead German sprawled in the rear of a disabled American self-propelled TD ve-hicle. Lieutenant Johnson (Intelligence Officer) had already searched him for unit identifications and other info of military value.


— 132 —

As protection from the occasional fusillades of bullets, my OP was moved into “Kiefer’s house (Villa Franz) on the first floor, using the shell hole through which to observe. It was shortly afterwards when the tank commander, Co. B, 781st Tk. Bn. (Capt. John E. Simkins, Clemson ‘39), finally ar-rived. I didn’t recognize him at first, but had known him slightly in college. It is possible that my life was spared by his belated arrival. I was in the small hallway of the house, preparing to dash up the stairs to the second floor, when he walked in the rear door. I had put my foot on the first step, and was starting to turn and run up, thinking I could observe better from the higher level. My back was turned and I didn’t notice when he walked in. He had been looking for me because as soon as he saw me he shouted, “Hey, Colonel.” I stopped and turned around. As I did, a rattling of bullets came streaking down the stairs about waist high, striking the floor and ricocheting off into the doorway behind. I was stunned by the sud-denness, and instinctively raised my carbine upward thinking someone was upstairs. No one was, however, and the shots had evidently come through the stairway window from the hill to our left. The tank CO’s eyes popped wide open as he exclaimed, “God, you certainly came close to getting the purple heart that time.” It happened so quickly and I had so much on my mind that I didn’t give it a second thought. “Where are your tanks?” I asked immediately. “They’re coming up,” he answered, “but I told them to wait back on the road until I came up here and checked with you.” “Well, get ‘em rolling. I may need them soon, and when I do, I’ll need them quick.” He was somewhat hesitant about employing his tanks. The days before he had worked with the 276th and had lost two tanks.


— 133 —

Both of them could still be seen, in plain view, a short distance be-yond the underpass where they had been hit. Two crew members were visible, slumped dead over the tur-rets. He was taking no chances and wanted to be damned sure that we would give him ample infantry protection, and that all the buildings in the surrounding area had been cleared of snipers. I assured him that everything was taken care of, and he left to bring his tanks up. Fox Company’s assault through the town had now slowed. An unyielding enemy fought desperately from house to house and from room to room. Our foremost elements had advanced into the heart of town where there they were being fired upon from all di-rections. The enemy was everywhere; on the hill overlooking them, on the second floors, attics, first floors, and basements. The well constructed masonry buildings provided them with an ideal fortress from which to defend. Fox Company’s radio had gone dead in the meantime, and at the OP we kept frantically trying to raise them. It was no use; noth-ing but silence. I immediately dispatched one of my messengers with another radio, but he had to take a long way around. It was inviting death to go across the open ground. My tension mounted with each passing second as I sweated out Capt. Davenport’s fate. There was no doubt about the vicious battle going on, and I prayed that everything would soon be all right. My training with the bat-talion back in the States was the only thing that kept me calm. I remembered the many times on maneuvers when it seemed as though everything was wrong and yet eventually it worked out all right. That was my only consolation. The General came up and wanted to know what was going on. There was nothing to do but tell him the truth. “Sir, I am out of contact temporarily. Evidently their radio has gone out; so I have sent down a replacement.”


— 134 —

This didn’t please him, and he said something about getting things going. I was rather exasperated, so took a deep breath and said, “General, if it is desired that something drastic be done right away, then the only thing I know to do is to take the remainder of my troops and personally lead a charge into town.” That sounded the least bit dramatic, but I was anxious to have this matter settled once and for all. I was not going to order the rest of my battalion into the town until I had time to make a coordinated attack. My suggestion didn’t appeal to him at all. “Oh, no, no, Cheves, don’t you go running off and get killed. We don’t have enough bat-talion commanders now and I don’t want to lose you.” That was the vote of confidence I needed. After that, I felt like the General really depended on me, and I was much more assured of my actions. Boyea was listening in on the radio and he must have heard something, for he turned toward me and said, “I think I’ve got them.” He listened some more and then he told me the good news. “I’ve got Fox Company,” he exclaimed happily. “They have received the radio and want to talk with you.” I reached for the receiver and clamped it to my ear. A high voice was screaming loudly. “Colonel Cheves… Colonel Cheves… I want to talk with Colonel Cheves!” The voice was in the clear and violated all radio regulations; however, I was so anxious to hear from him that I didn’t care if he disobeyed every rule in the book. “This is Colonel Cheves,” I said, trying to talk calmly. The other voice sounded so excited that I thought it best to try and set-tle him down. The same screaming voice came back. “Colonel Cheves, this is Lieutenant Della-Bianca. Can you hear me?” The sound of ma-chine gun fire sounded clearer.


— 135 —

“Yes, I hear you, Lieutenant Della-Bianca. Send your mes-sage.” “I am down here in this gray building and I need help, sir.” “What do you need?” I asked. “I need some mortar fire … we are being fired on by some Germans in those buildings to the left of the cemetery.” “I can give you some mortar fire. Can you observe?” “Yes, sir,” came the answer. It took us some ten minutes of dickering back and forth over the radio before Lt. Della-Bianca was finally satisfied that the tar-get had been obliterated by our 81mm mortars. Then he became calm and I was able to ask him some questions. “Where is Capt. Davenport?” I asked. “He has been evacuated, sir, and Lt. Mahon is in command of the company.” “How is the company progressing? Are you making much headway?” “Not much, sir,” he answered. “We are having a good bit of trouble. There are plenty of Germans in town, and it’s hard to tell where they are. We’ve been receiving quite a bit of fire from the hill to our left. Can you give me the location of the 276th up there?” “No, I can’t. I haven’t been able to get their exact location. I’ll try again, and let you know.” “Yes, sir.” There was a slight pause before he went on. “Sir, Lieutenant Mahon has been wounded. Can you send someone down here to take him out?” I told him that I would send someone right away. There was a slight pause before he came back with his next message. “Never mind, sir…it’s too late…Lieutenant Mahon is dead.” It gave me a cold feeling to think that Mahon was dead. A wife and two children awaited his return. Then I learned that Morning-star had been killed too. That was the reason the radio had gone


— 136 —

out. There wasn’t much time to dwell on the memories of your friends. The battle must go on. “Who is in command of your company now?” I next inquired. “I don’t know, sir.” “Do you have many men with you?” “No, sir, most of my platoon have been hit, sir.” I had already made tentative plans for the other two companies, E & G, to continue the attack; so I said, “We are going to have someone pass through you, so start consolidating your positions. Casey will be down to see you after awhile.” He knew that Casey was CO of George Company and my message meant that George Company was going to take their place. We often used a mumble-jumble way of talking over a radio or telephone to keep the enemy from understanding our plans in case they were listening. Fox Company’s mission was thus completed. They had done a noble job; if anything, above and beyond the call of duty. These men, new to combat, had an enthusiasm and daring that no longer existed in the more experienced, veteran outfits. They had crashed through the enemy’s fortified defenses held by a superior number of SS forces, who had fought desperately try-ing to hold on, until they were either reinforced or withdrawn. Fox Company had paid its toll. Of the approximately 120 men in its attacking echelon, 19 had been killed; another 40 wounded, a total of 59 battlefield casualties in a 3 hour period. Others suffered from exposure, and were evacuated. There is no doubt that if the tanks had been available to attack along with them, as had been assured, the task would have been lessened and the casualties fewer. Through the ages, there are ironies in all wars. In this case, as in the famous “Charge of the Light Brigade,” someone had blun-dered.


— 137 —

The other rifle companies, Easy and George, had been watch-ing the progress of the attack, and they were now ready to move forward for the final kill. I wouldn’t let them go, however, until everything was in readi-ness. In the meantime, the tank CO had returned with his attacking platoon leader, Lt. Gus Sitton (Citadel, from Anderson, S.C.), and together we discussed the plan of attack. Technically, these tanks were attached and under my command; but in actual operations, it is more like a cooperative, supporting relationship, The tanks were still parked along the Zittersheim road, near the area from where Fox Company had commenced its attack hours before. Fox Co. had now proceeded some 600 yards. I had previ-ously instructed the tankers to move toward the underpass as a back-up to Fox Company, but this had not been satisfactory with them. They wanted infantry troops around them. I explained that there were many foot soldiers near the underpass, but they couldn’t see them because they were in the houses and ditches. The previous afternoon, I had watched tanks move forward and back along this same road, and I couldn’t understand their reluc-tance. The platoon leader finally departed with the understanding that they would move forward to the underpass where he would meet with our George Company men who were moving down the hill to continue the attack through Fox Company. 1300 was the time set for resuming the attack, and everyone had been notified. There would be an artillery preparation before the jump-off. My plan of attack was for George Company to attack on the left along the railroad embankment. Easy Company (Capt. Eugene A. Sisson, Caledonia, Ill) would be on the right. When the General heard about the time, he wasn’t satisfied. It wasn’t soon enough. He wanted to launch another attack immedi-ately. I guess he had taken his instruction too literally at the Com-


— 138 —

mand and General Staff School at Leavenworth where they taught that Infantry battalions only needed a few minutes to prepare for attack. In this case, it had taken an hour to relay the message to the artillery observer to tell him when to fire his batteries. He was with the 1st Bn., 276th, about a mile or so off to our right somewhere. While these preparations were being made, the fighting in town had continued. Lieutenant Della-Bianca had encountered difficulty in notifying everyone to hold up. Lieutenant James Haines of Baltimore, Maryland, was in charge of the 3rd Plat. which was following behind the 1st Platoon:

The Germans kept blazing away from the cemetery. Bun-ker, my messenger, was carrying our 536 radio, and he called to me, “Lieutenant Haines! I can’t get anybody! I’ve tried to contact Lieutenant Della-Bianca, but can’t reach him.” I decided to go forward to find out what was holding us up, so told Sgt. Wright, who kept firing his BAR at the cemetery, to hold fast while I crawled up to the 1st Platoon. I found Sgt. Petty at the front of his platoon, but Lt. Davis wasn’t with him. Something had to be done. Over the edge of the ditch I could see steps leading up from the road to the side of a building, with the door open. I told Sgt. Petty, ‘Pass the word back to break one at a time for that door. I’m going now.’ I grabbed my carbine and dashed across, up the steps, made a right turn at ninety miles an hour, and got in-side the building. As I entered, a shot came from one of the buildings to my rear and hit the door jamb. Petty followed me across, A shot just missed him. How Sgt. Wright ever worked his way forward, I don’t know, but he came across next. Bullets bounced around the en-trance as he dashed through the door. Wright had his BAR, so I told him to find a good position and fire to the rear every time a man came across. But, just as Goode started up, a burst came from somewhere and hit him right in the


— 139 —

stomach. He fell back in the ditch, screaming, “Oh my God, Haines, help me.” We were having a helluva time. There were Germans all around us and also on the high ground to our left. About twelve of us ended up in the house. The rest de-cided to stay in that freezing cold ditch. I finally got in con-tact with Della-Bianca on the 536 Radio. He told me that Battalion orders were to hold up, someone else would con-tinue the attack. A couple of minutes later, an American 1st Lt. walked up from the basement, quite a surprise to us. He was a Medic, and from him I learned for the first time that this building was being used as a hospital, for both Ameri-can and German soldiers. “Please don’t fire anymore from the building,” he re-quested. “So far, the Germans haven’t been firing on this house. It is marked with Red Cross signs.” I could have told him that the Germans had just changed that policy, but it didn’t matter. The wounded were in the basement, and not likely to get hurt. Also we had been ordered to hold tight, so hold tight we did. We built a fire and dried out a little.

Promptly at 1300, 6 January, my battalion attacked for the sec-ond time that day. With two companies now moving forward, I hoped the advance would proceed at a faster pace, and we would secure the main por-tion of town well before dark, which came about 1800. Also, I hoped that enemy resistance would have softened. It was obvious that the Germans were a larger force than we had been told. Al-ready we had captured at least 50 prisoners, which exceeded the original estimated total force. Our progress, however, continued painfully slow. It was a slugging match against an experienced, determined enemy, the best in the German Army. My foot soldiers battled for every house, crawling in ditches, jumping through windows, blasting through


— 140 —

doors, and fighting hand-to-hand combat in its most primitive, sav-age form. The biggest problem was the dominating terrain to our imme-diate left. From well concealed fortifications in the thick forest, an unseen enemy poured murderous enfilade fire into our flanks. The plan had been for the 276th Inf. to move forward on this high ground and thus seal off the SS forces in town, but this had so far proved to be an insurmountable task for them. Also, the supporting tanks had not moved. The tank CO was nearby, and I could hear parts of the radio conversation with his platoon leader, who was in one of the tanks waiting on the road. There was much dickering back and forth, but finally the tanks edged forward a few yards before stopping again. The platoon leader’s voice now came in clears “We cannot proceed any further. There is a mine field blocking the road in front of us.” The tank CO looked at me as though he was ready to call the whole thing off and head back to Zittersheim. I was disgusted, too. Fox Company had passed along this road, and there had been tanks on it the day before. It was possible, though, that German patrols had placed mines on it overnight. “Now, listen,” I said, “What in the hell is eating you guys? What do you usually do when you run into a minefield. Don’t you have men for that?” Apparently they didn’t; so a detail from my Ammunition and Pioneer Plat. was sent down to toss the mines aside. After that, the tanks rolled on again, very slowly, By that time, our leading infantry troops were deep into town. This lack of infan-try-tank coordination dated way back, and this was my first experi-ence working with them. Somehow, in our extensive training and field maneuvers back in the States, we had never worked with them. Also, I was to learn later that this 781st Tk. Bn. was a sepa-


— 141 —

rate tank battalion without supporting troops. Armored (tank) Divi-sions have supporting armored infantry troops with them. The heavy machine guns of How Company were now displac-ing forward to give closer support to the attacking riflemen. Private First Class Hy Schorr of Long Island, N.Y., had been bored with his Coastal Artillery duty in sunny California, so volun-teered for the Infantry. He was now moving along with S/Sgt. Har-old Kline’s section of 2 HMG’s. Like the rest, he had spent the previous night in a cold, wet fox hole, shivering with only a blan-ket wrapped around him. Now, he was wrapped with several belts of machine gun ammo, a carbine slung over his shoulder, and car-rying two boxes of ammo.

Walking along I saw a G.I. lying flat on his back. Someone had evidently attempted first aid, for bandages were tied loosely around his head. Strewn around him were V mail letters and other personal items. We stopped behind a knocked-out American half-track. Inside it were about six dead Germans, some with feet dangling over the side. Looking closer, I noticed that three or four of them had on American field jackets, and one had on a G.I. overcoat. The others were in shirt sleeves, and I presume their clothes were taken by their comrades. We were following the route which Fox Company had attacked along that morning. Here was a sight I would not forget. We trudged slowly by and the scene sickened us to complete silence. In the ditches on both sides of the road were numerous bodies, all of them American. They lay fro-zen as they had fallen. Up ahead we passed the solid built French houses from where the fire had come that mowed them down. Here we saw many dead Germans, also frozen, in various odd postures. One was in a sitting position, his rifle propped against his shoulder, others with arms and legs at crazy angles. G Company was just ahead, so Sgt. Kline (Kanopolis, Kansas), set up the guns in a 2-story house to cover their


— 142 —

advance. Our gun was set at a window with the tripod propped on a stout table. Chicken wire camouflaged the gun, but did not interfere with its firing. I didn’t notice at first, but under the table was the half naked body of a Ger-man soldier. He was a blond young fellow and good look-ing. Around his bare chest was a strip of cloth used as a bandage. He had been severely wounded and died right there. No one seemed inclined to remove him. In fact, his body served as a brace to keep the table from moving. There were at least a dozen other dead Germans scattered upstairs and down. In the next room lay an enormous Kraut, his body whitened with fallen plaster and half cov-ered with debris. The smell of death was all through the house. A short time later, Sgt. Kline asked me to go to the rear, a defective firing pin on one of the guns had to be replaced. I started off at a half run. I didn’t intend to make myself much of a target for some Kraut.

Meanwhile, the attack by the infantry companies had pro-gressed. On the left next to the railroad embankment, Lt. Cassidy’s G Company was attacking in a column of platoons—1st, 2nd, and 3rd, in that order. Casey was with his lead platoon and had his weapons platoon with him. His method of attack was a basic ones fire power and movement. It worked. His company was receiving heavy fire from the hill on the left and from the cemetery on the right. To cover the advance, he would alternately have all his mor-tars, machine guns, and BARS concentrate on those areas while his men dashed from house to house. Technical Sergeant Robert Kirk, of Topeka, Kansas recalls the action:

We crawled over the F Company dead to reach our attack positions. The first four houses were cleared, but then we were stopped by deadly fire from the high ground on our


— 143 —

left. There was a large open space ahead and then a fence. We opened up with everything we had on the high ground, and then made a dash across the field and over the fence. House by house was taken in the same way, and the prison-ers began streaming back. Sergeant Schwaegel, dashing into one house, was credited with bayoneting the first Kraut. Lieutenant Cassidy was up front all the time, where the fighting was the toughest. He and Pfc. Richards were trying to get a bazooka into action, but became ensnarled in the fence, and gave up. Instead, he covered while Richards worked forward and tossed a grenade in the window. That did the trick, and two more SS superfighters came running out to surrender. We kept pushing on. Red Crouse, McCro-bie, and Richards were hit as they ran around the corner of a house. The machine guns from the cemetery opened up on our right, but our machine guns returned the fire, and quieted them down. Houses were burning all around and flames leaped skyward as we passed through. Dead Krauts littered the ground. We ignored them unless they moved, and then we put them out of their misery. Sergeants Flani and Sims went back to clear a mine field, and in a few minutes the tanks moved forward.

Easy Company was attacking on the right. “We moved out in a column of platoons, with the 1st Plat. leading,” recalls Sgt. Swain of E Company.

We moved through Fox Company and met our first resis-tance. The attack bogged down immediately. Segeant Don-ofrio ran out into the open to help some wounded, but was hit and came back. Lieutenant Wayne Meshier came up, and we started forward again with Lt. Meshier out in front. He was search-ing for a better route to advance, but was wounded while jumping through a window. He dove under a jeep, but was


— 144 —

killed when hit again. The constant enemy fire made it sui-cide to stick your neck out. Sergeant Philips took over after Meshier was killed, and tried to move forward, but it was no use. Tanks arrived at last, and with their added fire power, we started to move forward.

From my position at the Battalion OP, everything seemed to be going smoothly at last. The radio messages indicated that progress was being made, even though slowly. The tanks had finally moved to the underpass and turned east where they were in position to support both Easy and George. My Battalion Surgeon, Capt. Jo-seph Clifford of Gloversville, N.Y., had organized his ambulances, and they were moving back and forth, evacuating the wounded. General Herren came back into the picture. “What are they do-ing now?” he asked. “Moving through the town, sir.” “Are they making much progress?” “They’re doing much better now,” I replied. He left me alone for a few minutes and then Casey screamed back, “For God’s sake, can’t somebody do something about that hill on our left? Where is the 276th…who is supposed to be up there?” I had already checked with Iverson several times on this same question, but hadn’t been able to get any satisfaction except to learn that they were running into stiff opposition, and that they hadn’t made much progress. I called Iverson again, and this time I was most insistent. “Iver-son, we’ve got to know where your troops are! We are receiving too many casualties from that hill, and we can’t do anything about it because we are afraid to fire for fear of hitting your troops.” This time he gave me the hard facts. His battalion had ad-vanced very little and was only a short way up on the hill, a good 500 yards behind our leading elements. I shuddered when I thought


— 145 —

of the gap, and proceeded to have the artillery and mortars lambast that area with all fire possible. So far, we had not been able to make effective use of our artil-lery support on the enemy in town for fear of hitting our own troops who were so intermingled. Evidently Casey was satisfied with our barrage, for he signed off for awhile and continued with his advance. The General came back with his questioning. He wanted to know about the American prisoners. “Have you rescued any of those American prisoners yet?” Yes, sir, we’ve got some of them, but they are all wounded.” “How many?” “I don’t know exactly, sir.” “Find out and let me know.” “Yes, sir.” About an hour before dark, the tank CO came to me and re-quested permission to have his tanks withdraw back to Zittersheim for the night. He explained that they were out of ammunition and needed to go back there to reload, refuel and be serviced. I said emphatically, “No!” I couldn’t imagine such a thing. It seemed to me that they should have worked in relays or something. At least, they should have anticipated their needs. I blew my top, and he left, but I could tell that he didn’t like the idea of working with someone who didn’t know the first thing about tanks. I had never heard anything about combat troops moving back to a rear area at night. It certainly wasn’t the infantry way to fight a war. We knew the Air Force flew its missions and then flew back for hot meals, a nice bed, and refueling, but we didn’t know this happened with any of the ground forces. This is not meant to downgrade the Air Force, for we appreciated the terrific job they did and the tremendous casualties they took. But, the tanks moving back was something else again. It would probably have been all right if they had just wanted to pull back a little way, sticking


— 146 —

around close enough where the enemy would know they were there, if needed. Everything was going fine now, and Easy and George Compa-nies had both made excellent progress. There were only a few houses left to be cleared, and the town would be ours. The General was well pleased, and departed. The tank CO came back to see me and very nicely informed me that the General said it was all right for him to pull his tanks back for the night. “Like hell he did,” I exploded. “Yes, sir, he did,” came the answer. “They’re on their way back now.” Sure enough, I could see them, moving slowly to the rear. The tank CO disappeared and I was left alone with my prob-lems. It gave me a lonesome feeling to see them pull back. We were really over extended in our efforts to satisfy Gen. Herren and capture the town before dark. Dusk was settling, and a gloom closed in over the area. The German-held hill to our left loomed darker and more sinister than ever. Darkness fell rapidly, so I is-sued orders to hold up and start organizing a defense for the night. The words had hardly gone out over the radio when the enemy counter-attack came! There were a series of loud explosions to our front, followed by a bright glow over the roof tops of the silhouet-ted buildings. In the gathering darkness, the Germans charged down the hill to our left front, scampered across the railroad tracks, and swooped down the steep embankment into the flanks of George Company, all the time screaming and whooping like a bunch of wild Indians. There was chaos and confusion. This attack struck at a point between my observation post and the forward attacking troops, splitting through the middle and iso-lating our most advanced elements from the rear forces. My first thoughts were that the enemy had finally been rein-forced. All day long, we had been fighting against time, for it was a known fact that the Germans were striving desperately to exploit


— 147 —

this breakthrough, the deepest into Seventh Army lines by several miles. A group of about twelve prisoners had just been brought to my observation post when the counter attack came. I never knew why they were brought there in the first place; nevertheless, they were there and I felt like killing everyone of them. They were young, well dressed soldiers, and seemed to have a smirking smile on their faces when they noticed our excitement over the sudden turn of events. Since artillery fire wasn’t readily available, I was shouting for Blanchard’s mortars to concentrate on that far end of town near the railroad station, to break up the Jerry assault. About that time, a Kraut machine gunner spotted our group and cut loose with a wicked spray of lead all around us. The guards and the prisoners instinctively flopped to the ground, leaving me standing there with my carbine trained on the captives. I don’t know why I stood there. Perhaps, I was more afraid of the Germans on the ground than I was of the machine gun bullets. I don’t know. At any rate, I was standing up all by myself while bullets whizzed past, buzzing around my ears, as though someone had turned loose a hive of bees. I slumped down the least bit, keeping my carbine and my eyes on the prisoners flattened to the ground. Afterwards, the pris-oners apparently thought we were going to execute them. To my left, they were lined-up on their knees, facing a line of guards against the building, pointing rifles at them. With me in the middle and off to the side, it was a scene to remember. The Germans were pleading, an audible murmur, “Bitte”…”Bitte”…”Bitte.” I ordered them taken away on the double quick. My eyes were immediately focused back to the battlefield, hop-ing against hope, and waiting for word from my company com-manders. The scene below had all the appearances and sounds of a town under sieges flames shot upward, silhouetting roof tops and


— 148 —

chimneys; heavy guns thumped and shells whistled overhead; ma-chine guns rattled and loud explosions burst in the air. A silent figure had moved alongside me and was also watching the spectacle. After a long minute, I turned towards him, thinking it was one of my officers. To my amazement, I recognized Sgt. In-gram, the mess sergeant of Company G, casually standing there with his hands in his jacket pockets, seemingly unimpressed by it all. Very nonchalantly, he asked, “Colonel, could you tell me how to get to G Company? I have hot chow for them.” I couldn’t believe it, and despite my anxiety at the time, I was very grateful for his efforts and interest. Frankly, I didn’t know whether he would be able to reach them or not. I tried calmly to explain the situation and the best route to take. Later, we learned that he did, indeed, deliver the meal to the rear forces in town. Casey’s voice was now coming over the radio. “Oh, my God,” he screamed almost pathetically. “I’ve lost my company. I don’t know what to do…” Boyea was listening to the radio, turned to me, and asked, “What shall I tell him?” I didn’t know what to tell him, and I just shook my head dumb like, and said, “I don’t know.” All the time we were edging back the least bit. The house in front of us had been set afire and was now blazing full blast, illuminating our OP area like a bon fire. We gave way before the brightness and reached the seclusion of the woods behind, where we stopped and set-up our small headquar-ters group. Sisson’s Company had also been hit and he was calling back for instructions. I was plenty worried and had visions of losing my entire battal-ion in our first fight. I also had visions of two or three enemy bat-talions bearing down on us from all directions. There were so


— 149 —

many gaps in the line that you could expect them from any direc-tion. Casey next reported that he only had five or six men left with him, and that he had been cut off from the rest. Something slowly burned inside me. I decided right then and there that we would hold to the last man and go down fighting. I grabbed the radio and started shouting commands! “Gawd dammit, hold! We are going to hold here. We will not let them through. Get your men together.” I then proceeded to round up what was left of Fox Company. They were tired, scattered and without leadership; some had remained in the houses in town. Lieutenant Chester Davis was now the senior officer, but we couldn’t find him. Boyea was left with the radio while I walked around the woods, locating a group here and there. Each one, I assigned a sector to defend, and with avail-able headquarters men, a perimeter defense was established. Ger-mans had infiltrated into Wingen; so I considered it possible for them to infiltrate further, especially if they had been reinforced, which was entirely possible. The counter-attack had come after George Company had stopped its advance alongside the steep embankment near a 2-story building (Later the PO), about 100 yards to the left (north of the Catholic Church). The 1st Plat. and Weapons Plat. were intermin-gled out in the open while organizing a defense for the night. The Germans had quieted down somewhat. It was a lull before the storm! Technical Sergeant Kirk tells the story:

It was almost dark, and fires from burning buildings fur-nished an eerie light as we went to work setting up a de-fense, evacuating the wounded, and herding prisoners to the rear. suddenly all hell broke loose! There was the chattering of machine guns, followed by terrific explosions, one after another, jarring the buildings and sprinkling broken glass.


— 150 —

Through the noises, a voice screamed pitifully, ‘I can’t see! I can’t see!’ The voice died out suddenly, Then another ex-plosion close by, and Sgt. Wilmoth dashed by, headed to-ward the rear with blood streaming down his side. Private First Class Kliever let out a blood curdling cry, and his bloody arm dangled by his side. God, it was awful. Then I heard wild yelling, and looked up. The Krauts were coming down the embankment, whooping like a bunch of wild In-dians. Everything was mad confusion. Bazookas and hand grenades crashed and exploded. Above the noise I heard the steady ‘rat-tat-tat’ of an American machine gun, and the line of Germans faltered and disappeared from sight. some of them stumbled and lay still while others scattered behind buildings. While the rest of us had stood there, surprised and paralyzed, Sgt. Krumme had grabbed a machine gun, and stood out in the open, spraying lead as they rushed forward. He had scat-tered their attack, but now there were Germans all over the place, and in the darkness we couldn’t tell where they were. Their wounded and dead lay only a few yards away, but others had slipped through to the other side of the street. Out of all this confusion, coordination somehow re-mained. Lieutenant Cassidy was moving around now. Why he wasn’t killed, I’ll never know. He was getting our de-fense organized and ordered us back to a row of houses. Private First Class Tice crawled over towards me while machine gun tracer bullets clipped just a few inches over his head, but he finally made it. His 536 radio was too cumbersome for crawling and with an oath he flung it away. We helped the wounded and then crawled back. Ser-geant Delonais, S/Sgt. Lundgrin, Sgt. Feaster, Kielar, O’Dell, and Hunt were among those wounded.

Sergeant Krumme and about thirty men, many of them wounded, remained in the two story building. They couldn’t make it back without leaving the wounded; so decided to stay where they were.


— 151 —

We were in a continual sweat, surrounded by Germans. Mark Everett and I set up a machine gun and held them off. Windows and doors were manned and an air-tight defense set up. One Jerry machine gunner exposed himself, and Hutcherson and Winchell blew him to hell with one well-placed bazooka round. There was no rest that night. The room was crowded with wounded and every now and then someone would groan, “Watch out for my arm; it’s bad enough now,” as someone accidentally placed his boot in the wrong place in the darkness.

Lieutenant Cassidy, meanwhile, in his efforts to protect his most advanced men, had been caught in a house between his fore-most troops and the balance of his company to the rear. Only a few men were with him, and he had lost radio contact with the men about 30 yards ahead. Cassidy was in the house where Sgt. Kline had set up his H Company machine guns, and together they set up a defense for the next German attack. Meanwhile Pfc. Schorr, with Pfc. Ward, had located a firing pin for the MG.

It was dark by the time we headed back. There was heavy firing toward the front, so we made a wide circle. Even then, Ward and I were pinned down several times. We caught up with some medics and decided to stick with them, thinking they wouldn’t draw any fire, but suddenly there was the rip of a German machine gun, and my nose was buried in the snow. We proceeded on cautiously, until halted by a sentry who called for the password, which we did not know. He called for a sergeant who questioned us, and then directed us to the battered house. Sergeant Kline told me they had just weathered a fierce German attack, and they were expecting another one any-time. Lieutenant Cassidy was using this house as his CP, and during the night I heard him talking about the heavy losses in his company. His voice broke as he mentioned


— 152 —

Sgt. Shellem and others. He was shaken, but determined; and in complete command of the situation, as he made plans to continue the attack in the morning.

The momentum of the German attack carried into the flanks of Easy Company on the right. Recalls Pfc. Gargiole:

Our platoon was just behind G Company, and our squad had just entered a courtyard. We were lying along a picket fence when all at once a machine gun opened up. Bullets cut the pickets off right above our heads. I hollered to Sgt. Bassak to get us out of here, and we pulled back to the next building. Just then, a series of loud explosions across the way jarred us, and two machine guns opened up from be-hind the building, and we scattered. In the excitement, Hampton left his mortar behind, but when he realized he didn’t have it, he paid no attention to anyone, but dashed out into the open and brought it back. The 1st and 3rd Plats. also had their hands full, Sgt. O’Leary was shot in the left eye when the counter-attack started, and bazooka fragments slashed into Sgt. Youker’s face. Krauts appeared all over the place. Hanz spotted one firing from the church steps and dropped him with his sec-ond shot, They closed in, so we grouped together in the houses and used them as strong points. A Bazooka round crashed through a window, and mauled Czebotar. The Krauts got in behind us and cut us off from the rest of the company, but we stayed right where we were all night.

Recalls Sgt. Swain of Easy Company:

I’ll never forget that night. We were green as hell and were up against the toughest soldiers we ever ran into. They were all young, husky fellows. Nobody knew where any-body else was, and no one was anxious to find out. The Krauts kept walking up and down the street, hollering, ‘Hey, Joe!’ I could have knocked them off easily, but Sgt.


— 153 —

Phillips wouldn’t let us fire. He said they might be our own troops, we couldn’t tell for sure. Also, they didn’t know where we were, and if we gave away our location, they were in an excellent position to blast the hell out of us. Our artillery and mortars started coming, and for the next fifteen minutes, we crouched low while these large shells crashed down, shaking the ground and rattling the buildings. The sky brightened again as more fires started. Broken glass and pieces of masonry flew everywhere; the walls and roofs of houses crumpled down with a hollow crunching sound; the cries and groans of the wounded could no longer be heard.

From my position on the hill, I watched and waited. Numerous new fires had started, but since mid afternoon there had been heavy billows of smoke curling skyward from a building south of the main (Catholic) church spire. I later learned it was the Hotel Wenk. There were 25 people in the cellar there with the owner, Ma-dame Paula Felden. Here is her story of what happened on January 6th:

Time crept by. Starting at daylight, the fighting increased and was unending. Around 1 P.M. there began an incredi-ble concentration of gun fire. Until then we had been pray-ing continuously, but now we fell into silence. We were panic stricken and paralyzed by fear and horror. We hud-dled together in small, silent groups, desperation in our souls. After about an hour, we began to smell smoke. One of the women opened the door leading up to the hall. The coke was on fire! An entire box car of coke which we had re-ceived about six weeks before. The smoke and gas filled our cellar all at once. Only instant flight could save our lives! No time was lost. Women grabbed their children, all only barely dressed, and some with only slippers. The men carried my gravely ill mother. It was an instant, desperate flight into the uncertain.


— 154 —

We ran into the open daylight as fast as we could, step-ping over dead bodies tumbling over weapons and debris, to reach the adjacent garage. The chickens and pigs could not be saved, and burned to death. A few courageous men and women jumped back into the cellar to get whatever they could to protect us from the freezing weather. Burning trucks loaded with ammunition blocked our way. After about two hours, we fled from the garage to a neighbor’s house across the street, but the Germans had withdrawn into it. We wanted to leave, but they ordered us to stay there, and they left. An hour later, they came back under orders of their commanding officer; so we went back out on the road into the midst of a terrifying shower of bul-lets and debris. Somehow, we managed to reach the glass factory (north of RR tracks, east end of town). We looked for a cellar, but could not find one. Tortured by hunger, pain, and fear, that night did not seem to end.

Mlle. Anny Mathie with family and friends, ordered to leave their cellar, had taken refuge in the cellar of a house north of the Railroad Tracks. Her story continues:

The fear and terror we suffered defies description. In our haste, we had brought the laundry bag instead of the gro-cery bag. The hunger was not as bad as the thirst. The German soldiers shared whatever they had with us. That last day (January 6th) was the worse. The soldiers kept running in and out of the cellar. At the wall of the yard there were several machine guns which kept firing con-stantly. Each shot drew answers form the other side. American artillery drummed more and more. The number of soldiers continued to diminish. We now knew them by names, and when we asked, ‘Where is Franz of Peter?’ they always answered: “They’ve had it.” Wounded kept pouring into the cellar, and a medic took care of them. There was a shortage of medication and sup-


— 155 —

plies. After awhile, the group of soldiers had shrunk to only a few men.

Lieutenant Wolf Zoepf, 3rd Bn., 12th SS, reports their action on 6 January:

At dawn, an assistant adjutant from our Regiment reaches our 3rd Bn. Command Post. He succeeded in slipping sin-gle-handed through the American lines, using almost the same route our battalions had used two nights before to reach Wingen. He delivers retreat orders for both battal-ions. There is no chance for support nor relief. The self-propelled assault gun battalion, which has been promised, has been ordered to other combat fields. Both battalions are to disengage themselves from the enemy when possible and march into prepared positions south of Melch. This is not possible at this time. The enemy increases his efforts shortly after dawn with attacks from the west and southwest. Although further tank attacks can be repulsed, our casualty count is rising under continuous fire. During the afternoon enemy infantry succeeds in break-ing into several parts of Wingen in great strength, reaching almost the RR-Station. At least one company in each battalion is cut off and isolated by enemy action. Communication is also lost be-tween both battalions for several hours. Assault detach-ments of variable strength are quickly formed at both bat-talions and succeed in establishing again connections to the isolated companies and platoons during heavy house-to-house fights in the early evening. Enemy is pushed back temporarily. Both sides are exhausted.


— 156 —


The Final Day

100, 6 January 1945: Our battalion held its ground. Gradu-ally it quieted down, and it appeared that the enemy attack had been stopped. I had radio communications with my two

company commanders, but they had lost contact with their fore-most units, who had organized strong points, separated from the rear. The remnants of Fox Company protected the flanks; so we had some semblance of an impenetrable defense, in case the Krauts attacked again.

2

Small groups of Germans were seen to withdraw toward the eastern end of town. Perhaps they had not been reinforced after all. Even then, our situation was not good. It was another miserable night out in the cold woods, trying to rest in the freezing, wet snow, which sapped our strength. I couldn’t remember when I had last eaten, but by counting on my fingers, I knew that I hadn’t slept in three nights, and this would be the fourth. I was dead tired. Knocked out. Only the thought of my men kept me going. They were in worse shape than I. Complete victory had been within our grasp, and it sickened me to think that it had been snatched away so unexpectedly. The day’s events hummed through my mind, and I tried to think of things I should have done differently. That was always the way. It was second guessing, similar to the Monday morning quarterbacks back home who always came up with the right solution after the game had been played on Saturday. Our contest was for ‘keeps,’ and there was no time to waste on the past. Only the future was important.

— 157 —


— 158 —

The attack must continue in the morning. That was our mis-sion. I did not know whether the enemy had been reinforced or not, but I had to presume that there had been. As mentioned before, the enemy’s capabilities must be estimated as the worst thing he can do. So far, there had been three matters which had caused me the most concern: the use of the tanks; the lack of coordination with the battalion on our left; and the difficulty I had in obtaining artil-lery support by relay to the 1st Bn. on my right. All night long, we worked on these problems. I visited the 276th CP in Zittersheim and coordinated with them to the minutest detail. Their 3rd Bn. on the left would fire a white flare every fif-teen minutes, showing the location of their foremost troops, re-gardless of whether they had advanced or not. For artillery support, Boyea and I split up into two separate Observation Posts, He re-mained at the present one while I moved over to the one estab-lished by the 1st Bn., 276th, on our right, where the artillery obser-vation post was located. The tankers remained our paramount problem, but we finally satisfied them by assigning a mine-clearing detail from our A&P Plat. to go in front of the tanks, clearing any mines. At the 276th Inf. CP, the two frozen lieutenants who had spent the previous night lying ‘dead’ in the roadside ditch, had now thawed out sufficiently to tell the story of their ordeal in more de-tail. Lieutenant Edwin David Cooke of Company B, 276th continues his account:

After the tank pulled back for the final time, we watched as the few remaining Americans made a dash for the tunnel and disappeared with a few wounded. Lieutenant Peebles decided to crawl forward down the ditch to look around, but soon came snaking back to where I lay.


— 159 —

It was an hour or two before nightfall, and it became colder as the snow froze all around us. There was nothing we could do but wait. Wait for what, we didn’t know. But, both of us kept trying to think of some way to get out of there and back to the other side of the underpass. As it became darker we realized that any attempt to move from the ditch would bring fire from all directions, and we would be shot before we moved more than a few feet. I finally dozed off into a frozen, fitful sleep, to be rudely awakened by a heavy German boot planted roughly into my side. I held my breath, and luckily the Jerry patrol kept on walking. Several of them had come down the ditch and had walked right on over us. We were both shaking, a combination of fear and in-tense cold. Our legs were touching, and occasionally we would twitch a muscle, our only means of communication since we were afraid to speak. We lay there shivering, and wondering what would be-come of us, and watching groups of German soldiers walk-ing down the road with their mess kits rattling, going back to pick up hot chow. A few of them would stop and look at us. I understood one of them to say, ‘They must have gotten it while on pa-trol.’ That was fine with us, as long as they thought we were dead, we stood a chance of getting out alive. I had a bad cold, and it took a terrible effort to suppress the coughs which seemed determined to come. I muffled my face as much as possible in my collar, but some of the steam from my breath still escaped. To me, it looked like a cloud that would give us away for sure. Again I dozed off, to be awakened when Lt. Peebles kicked me. Later, he told me that I had started to snore. The Jerries kept walking up and down the ditch and along the road. Every once in awhile, one of the more curi-ous would nudge us with his boot. We expected any minute


— 160 —

to be shot or clubbed, or at least taken prisoner. We knew they were a crack SS outfit, and we expected the worst. After awhile, a group came along that was more curious than the others, and they decided to take some souvenirs. I heard them stop by Lt. Peebles just in front of me. They rolled him over and started searching him. We both lay as stiff as possible, and we were fortunate that we were as cold as we were. I heard them fumbling around with Peebles, and then one of them came back to me, but luckily he didn’t look very far. He felt up and down my wrist, and I thought he was feeling for my pulse but he was searching for my wrist watch, which he jerked off my wrist. He took my rifle and ammunition, and let it go at that. After what seemed like ages of trying to hold my breath and keep from shaking, they finally moved on. What a re-lief! Later, I learned that they had taken Peebles’ watch, fountain pen, rifle and ammunition, and cut his hunting knife from off his belt. It quieted down after that, but then I coughed! In a min-ute about four of them came out of the nearby house to in-vestigate. They stood on the road above us looking around, but were finally satisfied that it must have been one of their own men who coughed. The rest of the night was rather uneventful. We heard a captured American jeep come chugging up the road in low gear, and a German officer shouted something from the jeep as he went by. Soon after, two platoons of Germans with all of their equipment marched past, withdrawing to the hill overlooking the town. That left only a couple of hundred Jerries in town, but that was plenty. I dozed off again until about daylight. By this time we were so stiff and cramped from the cold that we couldn’t have moved much even if we had wanted to. A little later, I heard artillery fire, and then I heard an American GI shout, ‘Let’s Go:’ (Company F, 274th Inf.). What a welcome sound that was. It seemed impossible that we stood a chance to get out alive.


— 161 —

In a few minutes, a squad of American infantrymen passed right up our ditch, firing at the Jerries in the houses as they moved forward. They were amazed at seeing us there, and we were cer-tainly glad to see them. Their advance was slow, but they moved steadily onward. They lay in the ditch with us for awhile, and then kept going, knocking out the snipers and machine gunners as they attacked. One of them gave me a cigarette and lit it for me. It tasted so good, as we lay there waiting for an opportunity to crawl back to safety. About an hour or so later, we managed to move back about 30 yards where an aid man helped us into a house which we held. We couldn’t walk, but gradually the stiffness wore off a little and the shaking lessened somewhat, which together with the companionship of American soldiers there in the house, we began to feel much better. They gave us a few crackers from a K ration, the first food we had in about twenty hours. We sat there in the house for a few hours while this other outfit (2nd Bn., 274th Inf.) mopped up the town. In all, we had been in that damn ditch about eighteen hours, but now we were out and alive, and back with friendly troops. What a blessed feeling of relief it was. Soon, an ambulance came to the house, and the two of us were taken out with the first load of wounded.

For January 7th, my plan was to attack at 0900, an hour after daylight, in case the Krauts were expecting us at daylight. That would also give our company commanders an extra hour to contact some of their isolated men, and it would allow more time for the tanks to arrive and be prepared. The attack would continue as it had stopped with George on the left, Easy on the right. Artillery fire would not precede the jump off because that would lose the


— 162 —

element of surprise, and there was too much danger of hitting our own troops. Promptly at daybreak everything was in readiness. Sergeant Ben Rybicki of Long Island, New York, was in charge of the mine clearing detail and he reported to Capt. Boyea early in the morn-ing, who oriented him. “Sergeant, your job is to clear the roads of all mines ahead of the tanks. You will be in front of them and will receive lots of fire, but the tanks must get through.” Rybicki fumbled for words and finally asked: “Sir, is this trip necessary?” One look at Jerry’s face assured him that it was, and he took off. My new observation post afforded me an excellent view of the town, in some ways better than my other one. In fact, I was some-what surprised when I actually saw the positions of this battalion. They were generally spread along the woods (Le Kirchberg) on the south side of town, but a flat open field, at least 200 yards across, had prevented them from attacking the village. Thus, they had been kept on defense in case the Jerries had broken through. A young captain by the name of Curtis Brooks was in com-mand of this outfit. I never heard the complete story, but from what I was told, he had been battalion S-3 a couple of days ago, but had assumed command. I never asked him how or why. I had more im-portant matters on my mind. The original Battalion commander had disappeared when Company B had been ambushed by the Germans while moving into positions north of Wingen a few nights past. Captain Brooks impressed me as a very capable officer. We shared a large fox hole together at the very edge of the woods, and from this point we prepared to direct the continuation of the attack. The artillery observer stood next to me. All was deathly silent while we waited for H-hour to approach. The air was raw and damp. Overhead was a dull, snow-filled sky,


— 163 —

but no snow fell. We had the feeling that the Germans were watch-ing and waiting. The tanks arrived late, and we held up a few minutes while they churned into position, and then the attack was on. Cassidy’s first objective was the house where Sgt. Krumme and his men were holding out. Recalls S/Sgt. Harley Risk of Omaha, Nebraska:

As we closed in, the men were whooping and hollering from the windows. The door swung open and they came running out, ready to kiss the first man they could get their hands on. All in all there were 20 able bodied and 15 wounded men inside. The wounded were quickly evacuated while the rest joined in the attack. We were really driving now as house after house fell before our systematic advance. The tanks would sit back and blast at a house, and then we would charge in, throwing hand grenades. Kraut PW’s were coming in as we raced toward the far end of town.

At my OP, I received a first hand description of the liberation of Krumme and his men. Someone had inadvertently left the radio transmitter on when they rushed into the house, and I listened to the conversations as they came in. First there was a wave of highly exuberant and shouting voices and then they died down and a lone voice was heard, the pathetic voice of a wounded man who had been holed up for the night, speaking to a buddy. “Bill, you ole so and so … golly, I’m glad to see you … I knew you would come and get us.” A very tender and understanding voice replied, “How are you, ole man? … Are you all right?”


— 164 —

The reunion sequence was interrupted as more men entered the room, drowning out the touching words with an overture of happy noises. Then the recognizable voice came back. “Here’s something I brought you to eat. Now take it easy, we’ll have you out of here in a few minutes. The ambulance is on its way to get you now.” The tone was ever so comforting and gentle, hardly the one of a killer. From my grandstand seat I watched the running figures as they darted across my line of vision, moving rapidly from house to house. For the first time in days, I felt a wave of relief. My pleas-ure was short lived, however, for a runner arrived a few minutes later and handed me a written message: “Passport hit hard. Direc-tion of attack Wingen.” That was all it said, but it had lots of meaning. “Passport” was the code name of the 180th Inf. Regt. which was holding the ground to our right front, and to me it meant that the enemy was attacking them in an effort to reinforce the garrison at Wingen. Captain Brooks was rather perturbed when he read the con-tents. “What will we do?” he asked. My confidence had been bolstered by our successes so far, and I answered very nonchalantly. “Why, we’ll defend right here. I can’t think of a better place, can you?” My attitude must have restored his faith, too, for when Col. Morgan called a few minutes later asking him what plans he had made, he answered very positively, “Why, we are going to hold right here. Colonel Cheves is here with me, and we have coordinat-ed plans for our defense.” Fortunately, the 180th held, and we were not called upon to test the defensive measures which we quickly incorporated. The attack through the village was not effected by this news, and the company commanders knew nothing about that message.


— 165 —

It was Company C 180th Inf., which had been hit by the with-drawing SS forces. Lieutenant Wolf Zoepf, 3rd Bn., 12th SS Regt. reports:

6 January, 2100 - Both sides are exhausted, and the fierce fight comes to a lull. This temporary pause is used by both the 1st and 3rd Bns. to disengage their units carefully from the enemy. Our own wounded who are not fit to march over the mountains, are left in Wingen under the care of our medical officer, to be supported by captured American medical personnel. The captured NCOs and enlisted men (approximately 400) are left behind in the Wingen church. Only the approximately eight U.S. officers accompany us on our retreat march. The remainder of our two battalions are led single file through the viaduct under the RR-line east of the Wingen RR Station, which lies under heavy artillery fire. Our re-treat route again crosses Fischbach Creek and the D.12 Road. Total apathy and physical exhaustion. 7 January, 0600 - No enemy contact on our retreat. Bat-talions collect and muster their men on the D.12 Road. Af-ter that, the 1st Bn. leaves us and proceeds east to their as-signed positions south of Rothbachthal. The strength of our 3rd Bn. has been reduced to a total of 110, whereas our combat strength on 3 January was ap-proximately 450, before we went into Wingen.4 There are only two officers left in the whole battalion; the battalion commander and his adjutant. The battalion has suffered heavy losses during the defense of Wingen, including the many left behind because they would not have been able to march. The available ammunition is evenly distributed be-tween the remaining gunners: 90 rounds for each MG-42. The company reduced most in strength is the 11th: they count only one NCO and seven enlisted men. Since I carry the captured topographical map with the new assigned posi-tions marked in, I ‘take command’ of the 11th Company and

4 Total casualties of 1st and 3rd Bn., approximately 650.


— 166 —

lead the battalion, which follows at a distance of some 300 meters. The assistant regimental adjutant who brought the re-treat orders had reported Kohlhutte and the east thereof free from enemy troops. We therefore route our march in this direction. 0700 - Our vanguard (the seven enlisted men of the 11th Company) stumbles past a large dark object, which almost completely blocks the snow covered forest road, just about 800 meters east of its junction with the D.12 Road (Elev 363). It is a U.S. tank, facing east. The men are completely exhausted, and take no notice whatsoever of the tank block-ing their way. Before the alerted tank can open fire, it is rendered harmless by a wrecking hand grenade. To the north and south of the forest road, enemy troops are entrenched in at least company strength. These are the same positions we overthrew during the night 2/3 January! The tank is burning; ammunition and fuel explode in short intervals. I seek cover in the dark of the woods beyond the road ditch to the right of the road, which is ablaze from the burning tank. Looking back, I see two of three of our men rescuing a member of the tank crew who succeeded to open the turret lid. U.S. infantry in positions to the south of the forest road open fire with small arms on the few of us. Standing next to a large tree I get hit in my right lower leg by one of the first rifle bullets fired: flesh wound only, no bone grazed. Jumping further into the dark woods, I make out a seemingly empty, unoccupied foxhole at approximately 10 meters distance: a good place to take cover in. Rapidly ad-vancing, I suddenly see a man at the rim of this foxhole, aiming his rifle at me and siting at shortest distance. There is neither time nor place for me to take cover, but the shot goes awry. (It later turned out that my opponent was usu-ally wearing eye glasses, but had lost them during his sleep,


— 167 —

and was unable to find them again after he so suddenly woke up).5 Before the rifleman is able to shoot again, I am over him, hitting him on his helmet with my bare fist, pushing him back into his foxhole. It is still very dark, and one can’t see further than a few meters. Straying small arms and mor-tar fire, with a few machine guns starting to join in, force me into the foxhole of my ‘POW,’ thereby pushing his rifle over the rim of the hole, well out of his reach. Kneeling on his stomach, I unfasten my holster and take out the Walther P.38 (I had lost the captured U.S. carbine during the jump from the road into the forest). It is getting uncomfortable far both of us. In addition, the Steak wound of my leg is starting to hurt; so I stretch this leg back behind into the dark log-covered portion of the foxhole, thereby feeling something sort with my foot in the far comer. Should he have a dog with him in the fox hole? No, another man is crouched into the dark corner of the hole! Which makes two, instead of one ‘POW.’ 0730 - In the meantime the rest of our battalion (111/12) has gathered beyond a corner of the forest road and is trying to storm the U.S. entrenchments south of the road in the dawn of the day (7th). They advance as close as 20 meters to my foxhole, making me fear to get killed by one of our own hand grenades. Still kneeling on the Ameri-can’s stomach, I lift my ski cap as high as possible, yelling ‘Hierher! Hierher! (Come here), but to no avail. 0830 - The advance of our battalion’s remnants is stopped by heavy U.S. machine gun and mortar fire. Our men are low on ammunition, and only a few shots are fired before they retreat in small groups into the woods, not knowing my whereabouts.6

5 This and the following are from the “Personal Diary Notes of Lt. W.T.

Zoepf. These notes formed the basis of the book Seven Days in Janu-ary by Wolf Zoepf, published in 2001 by Aberjona Press.

6 Herr Zoepf further states that he was officially reported as “killed in action on 7 January 1945, approximately 0700 hours,” and his wife and


— 168 —

0930 - It is now almost quiet around me. U.S. mortar firing every once in a while on blind targets. We three oc-cupants of the foxhole start a whispered conversation, somewhat hard on everybody because my school English is rather clumsy since there was no chance for me to talk Eng-lish during the four years on the Arctic Front. If I under-stand my ‘ friends,’ one is from Boston (still without glasses) and the ‘corner man’ from Texas. I have some ‘captured’ U.S. cigarettes from Wingen in the pocket of my slack leather coat, so we start smoking. They have U.S. rations which they share with me to soothe my rumbling hungry stomach. The ‘corner man’ tries to put a dressing on the wound of my leg after we tore off some cloth from my trousers. Every once in a while, I take a glimpse over the rim of ‘our’ foxhole (with my head bare, not to give me away), seeing myself in the middle of an ar-ray of U.S. entrenchments, the next holes not 15 meters away to each side. 1030 - The first American soldiers climb warily from their foxholes, inspecting the forefield of the short combat of two hours ago. I am praying that it should get dark again soon, so that I could get out of my awkward position, and sneak out to the east where our lines are supposed to be. Meantime, I take from my map case the captured U.S. map with our new positions marked in, rip out the complete area, and destroy it: first by tearing it into small pieces and then chewing them into pulp. 1100 - A small group of infantrymen, led by a sergeant, advances in the direction of our foxhole, leaving me just seconds to cover myself with a blanket my ‘ friends’ had with them in the foxhole. Walking up to the very rim of our foxhole, the sergeant orders my ‘underman’ (the corner man was out of sight) to come out, and follow his group, helping them to recover the wounded and the dead from the forefield.

parents notified correspondingly. They first received word from him at end of November 1945.


— 169 —

Under the cover of the blanket, I press the muzzle of my Walther into the stomach of the ‘underman’, suggesting that he better find a good excuse not to give me away. Un-der the gentle pressure of my Walther, he murmurs sweat-ing something about ‘not feeling so good’ (which was the truth), making the sergeant grumble but leaving the fox-hole. 1115 - Back comes the sergeant with his group, growl-ing at my ‘underman’: ‘If you SOB are too lazy to get up, give me your ‘G.D.’ blanket, snatching it with force from the hole… First, for some very long moments, there was complete silence all around us; I staring up to the group standing around me, they staring unbelieving down at me. I must have broken the dead silence first by unloading my Walther and taking out the filled magazine, throwing both away into the woods. Then the group awakes out of their stupor, yell-ing at me and taking me out of the hole. Standing for the first time in hours, I ask the sergeant to be brought to ‘his officer.’ They escort me in a southerly direction, abusing my two ‘friends’ from the foxhole as cowards. After some 100 meters of march, somebody remembers that I have not been searched. So I have to stand next to a large tree, legs spread as per regulations, hands resting on the trunk of the tree. They search the pockets of my over-coat: out comes the half a pack of U.S. cigarettes and about twenty loose rounds of pistol ammunition. Somebody picks up my leather map case. 1145 - Our little ‘convoy’ arrives at what seems to be the command post of the company, located some 400 me-ters south of the forest road, a depression surrounded by red sandstone rock, covered by a few inches of fresh snow. The sergeant makes his report to his CO (a captain). There are some other officers and NCOs around, and someone starts to question me, with no results. They start getting souvenir-conscious: taking off my black, raw-leather overcoat, removing my collar patches


— 170 —

from my coat with knives, and cutting the decoration rib-bons off my coat. They leave me my shoulder straps, but my watch has to go with them. The Captain stops his men when they try to take my wedding ring from my finger. I am grateful to him. After a number of reports by field telephone to some higher headquarters, I am taken by jeep in a southerly di-rection. The driver has his carbine across his knees (even while driving) and my other escort is sitting behind with his submachine gun in my back. 1250 - After half an hour, we reach some higher head-quarters. There are a number of tents of different sizes, and lots of telephone wiring between trees leading to all direc-tions. We have barely stopped when a U.S. first lieutenant greets me in fluent German. First, he asks me whether I am coming from Wingen. I tell him that is none of his busi-ness. He counters that he has to know because his Com-manding Officer wants to send ambulances into Wingen to get out the wounded American and German soldiers. I tell him that he may send ambulances wherever he wants to, as long as they are clearly marked by the Red Cross nobody from our side will shoot. That ends the ‘in-terrogation.’ The lieutenant leaves me, after promising to find my watch, and giving me a chocolate bar for nourish-ment. I meet some of my men who are wounded too. An ambulance is coming, taking four of us and one guard. It is already dark when we finally reach Sarrebourg, be-ing taken into the U.S. Evacuation Hospital.

During this time, Mlle. Mathie had spent another agonizing night with her family and friends:

The last night (January 6th), we were quite surprised when at 1 a.m. the last three living soldiers came into the cellar and told us, ‘We can not stay here; we have to withdraw. The situation is hopeless, the battalion has been annihilated. We have to abandon our wounded.’


— 171 —

They then administered the last medication and shots to reduce the pain. They left us a pot of cold coffee and asked that we care for their wounded when they woke up. They said their goodbyes and left, probably into certain death. With all the gun fire, it would be miracle if they survived. About 3 a.m., after two terrifying hours, we heard sounds from the other room, followed by moaning and groaning from the wounded. One of them called, begging for water, ‘Give me water … I’m dying of thirst.’ We were dripping wet from sweat, fear, and terror; but we felt our way through the blackness into the adjacent room, to give them water. We called for them as we did not know where they were. We did not want to light a candle and attract atten-tion. It was horrible. An 18 year old soldier called for his mother; he was severely injured. In the morning, the concentrated gun fire began again. We thought our last hour had arrived. We huddled closer and closer, crying, praying. We had nothing to drink; our mouths were raw, and our bodies begged for water. The firing lasted several hours, and then sudden silence. We knew that somehow a change was to happen. Around three in the afternoon, we heard voices and running, not boots, but rubber soles. We knew the Americans had come! (3rd Bn., 276th Inf.). We made our presence known by call-ing to them, and standing at the bottom of the stairs, hold-ing the last bit of candle, and saying, ‘Don’t shoot, civil-ians, civilians!’ They asked about the German soldiers and through ges-tures we made them understand that they were wounded on the floor. We were then escorted down to the Restaurant Eberhard. German corpses were everywhere: everything was devastated. We were transferred to the Haus Reeb in Zittersheim, where we were interrogated, and stayed over-night. The next day, we returned to Wingen and went to the cellar to fetch our deceased. We brought her to the ceme-


— 172 —

tery by sled, and under the eyes of 10 or 12 persons, she was buried without rites.

All night, Mme. Felden had been huddled in the shattered Glass Factory with her ill mother and others:

In the morning, the first shell fell into this building, and the west wall collapsed shortly afterwards. We expected our end soon. To the east, we could see soldiers, but could not tell whether they were Americans or Germans. Gradually the noise subsided, and Americans came out of the woods with guns cocked (3rd Bn., 276th Inf.). The men with us were ordered to face the wall, and the women and children were corralled like sheep; however, the man who was guarding the door walked over and gave my three-year old daughter some chocolate. When she replied with a sponta-neous, ‘Thank you’ the American was pleased and sur-prised. He returned to his comrades and talked to them, then came back to let us know not to worry. We were taken to the Restaurant Eberhard. There were dead bodies all around it. We were completely lost and did not know where to go. Our place with all its contents was destroyed and lost; my mother was lying in the yard on an improvised stretcher on the snow-covered ground. It kept snowing, and we covered her with another piece of clothing. An officer selected a few to stay with her, and the rest of us were escorted to Zittersheim. It was good-bye forever. From Zittersheim, we were taken to a mission in Saverne. After a few days we were released, and were free to return to our completely demolished home. My mother had remained in Wingen overnight, and the next day, my father and brother-in-law placed her on a wooden cart, and pulled it to Zittersheim with chains. A military ambulance carried her to the Sarrebourg Hospital where she died two days later.


— 173 —

Meanwhile, George Company had encountered only light en-emy resistance and was pushing steadily forward. It was apparent that the bulk of the remaining German troops had withdrawn, leav-ing only a small covering force of scattered men, most of them sur-rendering at the first opportunity. Easy Company progressed abreast with George, and had the privilege of liberating some 250 American prisoners from the (Catholic) church in the center of town. This building had been strongly defended the previous day, and it was with the utmost caution that Sgt. Dyes and Pfc. Dubose of Easy Company approached, prepared to toss in hand grenades. The door swung open, and a horde of GI-clad Americans rushed out. It was a heart-warming scene to watch as fellow Americans contin-ued to stream out of the church, asking but one question: “Where’s the rear?” and then moving off in that direction. The story was gradually pieced together from these men. They were mostly from the 179th Inf. of the 45th Div., and had been cap-tives in the church without food or water for three days, since January 4th, when the town was first overrun by the Germans. In addition, numerous others were liberated from surrounding build-ings where they had hidden in basements. Sergeant Counts of Headquarters company was assigned the job of corralling them back to Zittersheim where he was to turn them over to their proper organizations and be sure that no Ger-mans were hiding out in the group. This proved impossible, for when they arrived in Zittersheim they scattered when enthusiastic GI’s ran out to meet them. Reunion celebrations flared spontane-ously as men from the 45th spied their old buddies whom they had given up for lost. It was a most gratifying scene as they hugged each other, with tears streaming down the faces of many. The 179th Inf. thanked us profusely for the rescue of their men. We assured them it was our pleasure.


— 174 —

Our system of two OP’s worked beautifully, and from my point I was able to adjust the artillery fire by simply turning to the ob-server who was standing beside me. Col. Iverson’s 3rd Bn. was now moving up on the hill without opposition, and their white flares zoomed upward with a constant regularity, each one further advanced. General Herren and Col. Conley arrived in the meantime, and I was required to divert my attention from the battlefield and answer questions. The General was very interested in the American pris-oners. “How many have you rescued so far?” he asked. I had watched as they streamed out, but could only guess as to the exact number. “Approximately 150,” I said. “Did you find any Germans dressed in American uniforms?” “I have a man checking them and will let you know as soon as I receive a report, sir.” There was a nice large fox hole several yards from ours so I suggested that he use it, which he did. By noon, our men had reached the far end of town and were pushing toward the houses on the outskirts, reaping the fruits of conquest. “I found a quart of Schenley’s in one of the houses,” recalled Sgt. Risk of George Company, “and from then on our machine gun section was way out in front. Some of the boys from the 45th Div. later said that they had never heard so much automatic fire in their life. We reached the far end of town, and had our first opportunity to scramble for souvenirs—Oh, sweet victory!” When the infantrymen reached the far east end of town, S/Sgt. Harold Kline moved his machine gun section to the RR Station. Pfc. Hy Schorr recalls an incident: “It was snowing heavily when I stepped outside. There were several dead German soldiers scattered around, and I noticed a GI from another outfit walking among them. He seemed to be search-


— 175 —

ing for something, and he was examining the bodies very closely. I hesitated to approach him, but finally touched his shoulder. “What are you looking for?” I asked. “He looked at me and inquired, ‘Are you Graves Registration?’ “It seems he had a brother-in-law in Fox Company named Morvant who had been reported missing in action, and every chance he got he had been uncovering bodies in the snow looking for him. Graves Registration had told him that eventually they would find him, but he had to look for himself. “I left him there searching.”7

The town was ours now, and Col. Morgan phoned wanting to know when I would release his troops. I told him that it was his job to hold the town after we had captured it, and that I was using his men to form a defense to the north and that I was going to extricate my battalion when that defense was established. As soon as the 276th was all set, I prepared to join my troops in town. Heading down, I ran into a newsreel cameraman taking mov-ies of Gen. Herren. His jeep blocked the road; so I waited while the film was being taken. “Now isn’t that typical,” I thought. The Gen-eral getting all the credit.” The General spied me about that time, and turning to the cam-eraman, he said: “Here’s the man’s picture you want. He is the one who actually captured the town.” Now, it was my turn to have the camera grind away, taking pic-tures of me, pointing toward the smoking village in the back-ground. It was also my turn to feel like a heel. I was no hero, and I had not taken the town. The real heroes who had done the job were my men who had slugged it out toe to toe with the best soldiers in Hitler’s Army, and had won. There was an eerie silence while riding along the Zittersheim road and into the wrecked village. It seemed strange not to hear

7 Morvant was killed the 6th of January.


— 176 —

machine guns and the other noises to which I had become accus-tomed. I went to the building which was marked with a huge Red Cross sign, and found it crowded with wounded and dead Ger-mans. A most disagreeable stench prevailed, and it made me a tri-fle sick. Some of them were standing outside near the entrance, and looked at me with apparent casual indifference. A middle-aged French woman, dressed in black, with a black shawl over her head, walked toward the entry door, carrying a pitcher of steaming hot water. I was standing in the street when she turned and said some-thing to me, as though she was asking a question, which I couldn’t understand. I looked at her and walked away, not knowing what to say. Inside that house was a German doctor, who was with the SS troops. Dr. Hans Lautenschlager of Hamburg, recollects:

We had marched through the night in unknown terrain, and crossed through thin American lines. At dawn (January 4th) we were standing above Wingen and took a lot of Ameri-can prisoners without any loss of our own, among them the American Doctor and his assistant , as well as their medics. To our luck we had been able to capture the American Medical Station intact, and for us it was incredibly equipped, since our own medical supplies were less than poor. Now, the battle for the town began. Our loss of life and wounded mounted by the hour. Our battle posts were eliminated one by one, as the battle Son each of the occu-pied houses started. Unfortunately, uncautious men of ours began to take positions at the school which I had designated as medical area. The Americans replied with a non-exploding grenade, but there was panic among the wounded. The following night we transferred a great number of the wounded into a large two-story house which the inhabi-tants had put voluntarily at our disposal. From this night on,


— 177 —

my medics, and the American Doctor and his medics were continuously working on the wounded. From bedspreads, the inhabitants made large Red Cross flags which were at-tached to the outside walls. From hereon, I had no more contact with the staff of battalion headquarters. During the night, I sent one of my medics, Rottenführer Mochner, as a negotiator to the Americans (45th Div) with the question about the conditions to take over those wounded who needed emergency surgery. Mochner re-turned with precise instructions for the take-over. However, without contact with my battalion headquarters, I could not make this decision myself. Let me add that the French population assisted us with-out hatred and the American Doctor and his crew helped the wounded continuously, just like we did ourselves. Many wounded have to credit their survival to the incredi-ble amount of blood (plasma) the Americans had at their disposal, and to the permanent transfusions we were able to perform on the severely wounded. The end of our mission approached on the third day (January 6th). By the afternoon of this day, there was only one more house with the rest of 3rd Company, comprising seven men and the wounded commander Jacobs, resisting from its cellar between the MASH (Red Cross House) and the battle line. The front of that house were two American tanks disabled by bazookas. When the American attack stopped during a lull I requested Jacobs to surrender in the interest of the over one hundred wounded, since I had no contact with the command post. There were over 27 dead with us alone.

Afterwards, I talked with Maj. Riggs, the veteran commander of the 3rd Bn., 179th Inf., who complimented me most highly for the manner in which my troops had pursued the attack so vigor-ously. “Why, I’ve never seen anything like it,” he praised. “The way your men charged into those German machine guns. I could never


— 178 —

get my men to do that. It’s because your men have just come from the ‘States’ and they’ve been taught not to be afraid of a machine gun. My men know better, and as soon as one opens up, they stop and start yelling for someone to knock it out with artillery. Your men will be that way too, as soon as they get battle wise. Golly, I sure would like to have a platoon of your men, though, they’re the damndest fellows I’ve ever seen to be in action for the first time.” I felt mighty proud of them myself, and I had to choke back my feelings when I rode around town and saw them lying dead in the streets and ditches. There were dead everywhere, men that I knew, stretched out on the cold ground surrounded by Germans, frozen into fantastic positions. There were other Americans - from the 276th and 179th Inf. Regiments. Everywhere I looked, in the middle of the streets, in the ditches, in the buildings, on the embankments, on steps, every-where, there were dead frozen soldiers. I never again saw so many dead together in one small area. It seemed such a shame, and it was hard to realize that they were actually dead, especially the ones I had known, the ones I had talked with the day or so before. War had always seemed so useless to me, and now it seemed even more repugnantly futile. I walked on through the streets. Men from the 179th (45th Div.) were busily salvaging damaged vehicles which had been captured by the Germans; my men were moving slowly from one house to another.’ searching for any Krauts they may have missed. They seemed so tired and there was an apathetic expression on their faces. The tanks were now moving up in full force. An Army photographer arrived from somewhere and was tak-ing pictures of some of the men as they posed in the act of break-ing down a door. One soldier found a bicycle and came riding down the street wearing a top hat. Local inhabitants now appeared from among the ruins, survey-ing and searching the damages, trying to find any and everything


— 179 —

worth salvaging. The wholly resigned look on their faces made me think that nothing really mattered anymore. It made me sad to watch them, and I thanked God that this war was not being fought in our country. There weren’t many of the natives around, and those who stayed had remained underground in cellars during the four day battle. The Battle of Wingen was over, and we started our painful trudge back over the ridge to Puberg. We had been promised a rest, at least for the night, but it never came. Orders reached me while my men were still wearily tramping through the cold woods:

ASSEMBLE YOUR BATTALION IN PUBERG. TRUCKS WILL ARRIVE. PROCEED TO OBERBRONN, ARRIVING THERE BEFORE DAYLIGHT TOMOR-ROW.

It didn’t seem possible, but it was. And so that night, we were on the icy roads again.


— 180 —


Aftermath and Reconciliation

FTER Wingen, the German Offensive continued with grow-ing intensity, not only from the Vosges front and the Rhine flank; but also from the rear by the German 19th Army mov-

ing northward from Colmar. A The German forces were augmented with new divisions which launched repeated attacks against the depleted forces of the Ameri-can VI Corps. Eventually the VI Corps was reinforced with the 103rd Inf. Div. and the 12th Armd. Div. from the XV Corps, but these added divisions were not sufficient to counter the over-whelmingly superior German Armies. Upon leaving Wingen, the 2nd Bn., 274th Inf., proceeded to the Philippsbourg area where it relieved troops of the 157th Inf. Regt, 45th Div, in positions along the Maginot Line near Dambach. Thus, once again, the 274th Inf. Regt. had its three infantry battalions to-gether, forming a defensive line eastward from Philippsbourg, which the Germans were not able to penetrate. Local counterat-tacks kept the enemy off balance; thus the Germans probed other areas for a better route of advance. The 275th Inf. Regt. assumed control of the defensive front westward from Philippsbourg, and they also kept the German of-fensive under control with a series of probing counter attacks. The 179th Inf. and the 180th Inf. Regts of the 45th Div. held their positions in the Vosges Mountains north of Wingen; thus the vil-lage was not threatened again. When the German Offensive became frustrated in its attempts to push southward through the Vosges, it shifted its efforts east-ward and launched a vicious attack with the 21st Panzer Div. and

— 181 —


— 182 —

the 25th Panzer Grenadier Div. in an effort to capture Haguenau. Fighting in this area continued to be extremely fierce with both the 79th Inf. Div. and the 14th Armd. Div. heavily engaged. On January 11th, Gen. Philippi’s 361st Div. was relieved from the line. His infantry had sacrificed four-fifths of its strength through bloody losses and frozen casualties. His sector was taken over by the 256th VG Div. which had also incurred heavy losses. On 04 January/2300 hours, the 256th had reported as having al-ready lost 997 casualties. On January 14th, the 157th Inf. Regt. relieved the 276th Inf. Regt. northeast of Wingen but had the misfortune to encounter the newly arrived 11th Regt, 6th SS Mtn Div, which had relieved the 256th VG Div. The 3rd Bn., 157th, along with Companies C and G were encircled, isolated, and overwhelmed. The next day, the 157th Regt. was pulled out of the line. A similar fate was met by the 2nd Bn., 314th Inf., 79th Div, when it was isolated at Drusenheim on 19 January where it had become engaged with the 10th SS Panzer Div. which had been ferried across the Rhine. Finally, on 20 January, the VI Corps, upon authority of the Seventh Army, disengaged from the enemy and commenced a planned withdrawal to a new defensive line along the Moder River, where with a shortened front, it was in a favorable position to de-fend with the forces available. On 26 January, the Germans failed in their final effort to cross the Moder, and thus “Operation Nordwind” came to an end. The Ardennes Offensive was finished on January 23, except for final mopping up operations. The Germans were in full retreat, leaving behind a debris of abandoned tanks, trucks and guns. Strasbourg had been saved; and the Allied Armies were pre-pared to resume the offensive which had been stalled by Hitler’s efforts to grab a quick victory.


— 183 —

Because of Hitler’s desperate gamble in ordering these two ma-jor offensives, the lives of thousands of Allied soldiers were even-tually saved. If he had defended the Siegfried Line (The West Wall) as he had been counseled by competent Generals, the Allied Armies would have had to crash through these cleverly-designed concrete fortifications, which would have been defended by well trained armies which were now smashed and no longer existed. The Russians had launched their great offensive on 12 January, which left Germany in the middle, ready to be crushed by two powerful forces approaching from the East and the West.

WINTER CAMPAIGN This story would not be complete without some attempt to describe the miserable living conditions of the front-line infantry soldier during that month of January 1945. The freezing weather was endless, At times, we were more concerned with our own personal welfare in the rugged mountains than with the enemy, only a few feet away. We lived like animals, burrowed in small holes under the snow, trying to find warmth and shelter. With our beards growing daily, we looked like animals. We were dirty, filthy. At night, you wouldn’t dare light a cigarette and you would not leave your fox hole for any reason. Orders were to shoot anything that moved. Water was a problem even though we were surrounded by snow. Canteens froze to a solid chunk of ice. The small “K” rations were our means of survival, but even these froze unless tucked in-side our shirts. Candles were scarce, and there was a very limited supply of the small Coleman stoves which could be used to melt snow during daylight. A warm meal was a rarity, and it usually ar-rived frozen after the long jeep drive up the steep mountain trails, even though the food had been encased in supposedly weather-proof marmite containers.


— 184 —

The 274th Inf. Regt. was treated like an orphan child, especially after January 14th when the 275th and 276th rejoined Task Force Herren as part of the newly-arrived XXI Corps south of Saar-brucken. The 274th remained with the VI Corps in positions east of Philippsbourg. Usually we were attached to the 45th Div., but at various times we were with the 100th, 103rd, 79th, and 35th. These established divisions looked upon us as “fresh” troops, and moved us right into the front line to relieve their own weary soldiers. Actually, we were in worse shape than any of them. For one solid month, we had been continually on the go without any rest. These other outfits had been overseas longer, and you could tell the difference. They looked permanent and fairly comfortable, and their supply system was better organized to serve two hot meals a day. They even had mobile laundry units. Most of their front line soldiers were just like us; and the great majority had not seen any more combat duty than we had because of the tremendous infantry casualties which resulted in a constant change-over in personnel. It was a different story at regimental and divisional levels where the staffs and supporting units had re-mained relatively intact. The low point in our morale came the night of 19 January when we were ordered to withdraw from the Philippsbourg area. We were very bitter about leaving these positions which we had recap-tured and held at all costs, which meant the loss of many American lives. Our adjacent regiment, the 275th Inf., reported losses of 37 Officers and 1,026 Enlisted Men at Philippsbourg during the pe-riod 1-10 January 1945. They had caught the full impact of “Op-eration Nordwind’s” initial attack, after relieving Task Force Hudelson. The withdrawal was necessary, although we did not know it at the time, because our advanced positions were threatened from the east, and we were in danger of being cut-off and isolated.


— 185 —

Slowly, we trudged to the rear. The American Army was at its worse; retreating equipment and personal belongings fell by the roadside as we moved rearward to more favorable defensive posi-tions on the other side of the Moder River.

OFFENSIVE The snow finally thawed around the 1st of February while the 274th Inf. Regt. was attached to the 100th (Century) Inf. Div. in the vicin-ity of Montbronn, France, southwest of Bitche. We kept hearing rumors that the balance of the 70th Inf. Div. had arrived overseas and was already in positions south of Saar-brucken, Germany, along with the 275th and 276th Inf. Regiments. This rumor proved true; so on 9 February, the 275th and 276th shifted over to permit the 274th to move into the center sector of the 70th Div. front. Never before had we appreciated the full value of an entire in-fantry division with its supporting supply and other units. Most important, we would have our own artillery batteries with regular observers and liaison personnel. To us, it was like a dream come true. But, of course, our problems were not over. The enemy was ahead, hidden behind several layers of the Siegfried Line, protect-ing the industrial city of Saarbrucken, capital of the rich, long-disputed Saarland. On 15 February, the regimental commanders and staffs assem-bled at the 274th CP in Pfarebersviller, France, where they were informed that the division would attack on the morning of 17 Feb-ruary. “The 274th Inf. will make the main effort and capture the high ground overlooking Saarbrucken,” announced Maj.Gen. A.J. Barnett, 70th Div. Commanding General. The 70th Div. was to spearhead the Seventh Army attack through the Siegfried Line and capture Saarbrucken. The 276th Inf. would attack on the left; the 275th on the right. An aerial bom-


— 186 —

bardment on the afternoon of the 16th would precede the jump-off. A battalion of medium tanks was attached to the division. The 63rd Inf. Div. would attack on the right; the 106th Cavalry Group would protect the division’s open left flank. On February 17, 1945, in the foggy, gray mist of early morn-ing, the 70th surged forward. Fighting for the first time as a com-plete division, the men could hardly visualize the fierce battles that lay ahead. Into the first layer of concrete bunkers of the Siegfried Line, the doughboys slogged forward in a veritable sea of mud. The drive on Saarbrucken was a nightmare from the beginning. On Kreutzberg Ridge, above Forbach, it was nearly impossible to set foot on un-mined soil. The advance was painfully slow. The 276th Inf. captured Schlossberg Castle and then pushed down into Forbach, the last major city in France to be liberated from the Nazi regime. The 274th seized Kreutzberg Ridge, Spicheren, and Spicheren Heights which overlooked the second belt of concrete forts and the famed concrete dragon’s teeth. On the right, the 275th fought bitterly for Lixing and Grosblied-erstroff as it pushed forward and assisted the advance of the 274th. On March 20th, the 274th Inf. spearheaded the assault crossing of the Saar River, and raced around Saarbrucken to make contact with Third Army troops at Bildstock, Germany. This juncture with the Third Army sealed off the Saarland, one of Germany’s most important industrial areas. It also concluded the offensive by the Trailblazers after 86 days of continuous contact with the enemy. Mopping up operations remained, which the 70th continued while moving forward to Mainz, Wiesbaden, and Frankfurt-am-Main. The 70th then performed occupation duties in this area while guarding the key bridges across the Rhine River.


— 187 —

The 70th Div. was stationed in the general area of Frankfurt and Weisbaden when Germany surrendered unconditionally on 8 May 1945. Trailblazers accepted the news calmly. There were no cele-brations. It had been a tough campaign. Also, too acute was the memory of brave comrades who had fallen in Alsace, Lorraine, and in the Saarland.

OCCUPATION On VE Day, the 274th Inf. Command Post was located directly on the Rhine at Schierstein, a suburb of Wiesbaden, where it remained until 12 August when it was moved to Bad Schwalbach. Our occupation duties were many and varied, but the most im-portant was guarding the bridges over the Rhine. We were respon-sible for guarding a total of 79 other critical installations. Dis-placed persons were a problem, especially feeding them and keep-ing them from marauding the area with a vengeance. We estab-lished one DP Center in Wiesbaden which housed over 12,000, including 7,963 Russian slave laborers. Paramount on our minds, however, was the future of the 274th and the 70th Div. The war in the Pacific against the Japanese was still in progress, and we speculated that we would be redeployed to that area. It was known that some divisions would remain on occu-pation duty in Germany, but it was extremely remote that we would be selected as one of them. Gradually the story became clear when many men were trans-ferred back to the States for redeployment to the Pacific; others were, assigned to the 3rd and 78th Inf. Divs., which had been desig-nated for occupation duty. On July 4th while the 274th was celebrating Independence Day with a variety of activities, including a parade through the streets of Wiesbaden, the final word was received. Except for a nucleus of “high pointers,” the regiment would receive replacements of “high pointers,” and then return to the States for inactivation without the


— 188 —

men who had fought together. (Notes “high pointers” were men with the longest service and the largest families.) It was the end of the line. There were sad farewells and tears in the eyes of many as long convoys of trucks pulled away, carrying buddies to other units and distant places. In late August, the 70th Div. headed home to inactivation, which came at Camp Kilmer, New Jersey, on 11 October, 1945.

70TH DIVISION ASSOCIATION Afterwards, there was a long silence among the former members of the Trailblazer Division, who were so proud of their beautiful red, white, and green shoulder patch. Except for occasional letters and exchange of Christmas cards, there was no contact between these men who had become so closely related during their training and combat days together. It was sad; and as the years passed away, vivid memories became more like long ago dreams. A new 70th Div.8 was activated on 1 March 1952 at Detroit, Michigan, and was later reorganized and designated as a training division, but this was not known by all men of the old 70th. It would have made no difference anyway. The new and the old were a generation apart; and except for the shoulder insignia, there was nothing to bond these new young soldiers with the old warriors of World War II. Fortunately, in August 1962, seventeen former Trailblazers from Service Company, 275th Inf. Regt., met in Chicago, Illinois, to organize an association for its former members. Salem, Oregon, was selected as the site of its next meeting which was to be held in August, 1964.

8 The 70th Infantry Division (Training) was disbanded in 1995. The 70th

RSC currently carries the colors of the 70th Infantry Division. It has been renamed to the 70th RRD (Regional Readiness Command).


— 189 —

In the interim, encouraged by others, it was decided that this reunion would also be open to all former 70th Div. men living in northwest United States. A total of 32 men from various units were in attendance, including three who were present at the original meeting in Chicago. At this meeting, held in Salem, Oregon, on 13 August 1964, it was voted to form a 70th Division Association, and an organiza-tional committee was appointed. This was the birth of the present day organization, which is very active and has a viable membership of over 1000. Biennial reunions are held in selected cities, alternating to the eastern and western sections of the United States. A quarterly magazine, The Trailblazer, is published, which keeps the former soldiers informed of a variety of news, including happenings of today and yesteryear. Most important is a membership roster which has enabled old com-rades to contact former buddies and to renew friendships which were bonded on the field of battle.

RECONCILIATION A friendly relationship now exists between the former soldiers of the 70th Inf. Div. and the 6th SS Mountain Division. These bitter adversaries of World War II, in a gesture of friendship and peace, have visited together and jointly held separate Memorial Services for their fallen comrades. This somewhat unusual arrangement came about mainly through the efforts of one man, Retired Chief Warrant Officer James R. Lassiter of Woodbridge, Virginia, who was 12 yeas old when his older brother, Private Gaither Lassiter, Co. F, 2nd Bn., 274th Inf., was killed in action at Wingen-sur-Moder, France, 6 January 1945. Later, James joined the Army, and while stationed in Europe, he made frequent visits to the village of Wingen in quest of more information about the circumstances of his brother’s death.


— 190 —

At the Hotel Wenk, he learned from Madame Paula Felden that former German soldiers also revisited this battle site. With her as-sistance, he eventually was able to contact some of them and ar-ranged to attend one of their reunions in Germany. James also contacted members of the 70th Division Associa-tion, and was invited to its 1974 Reunion in Kansas City, Kansas. At this meeting, James Lassiter was made an Honorary Member of the 70th Association. In the Bicentennial year of 1976, with Lassiter performing the liaison, three former members of the 6th SS Mtn Div. were invited to attend the 70th Division Reunion in Perrysburg (Toledo) Ohio. Upon their arrival, these former German soldiers were immediately accepted by their American counterparts. There had been a degree of apprehension beforehand, but it was quickly dispelled. There was a spontaneous empathy between these veteran soldiers who had experienced the horrors of front line warfare from opposing sides. In September 1977, a contingent of about 90 Trailblazers re-turned to Europe for a Battlefield Tour. They were met by a large delegation from the 6th SS “Nord” Div. Joint Memorial Services were held at the American Cemetery, Epinal, France, and at the German Cemetery in Buchholz, Germany. In a few minutes, friendships developed between these former foes. It is possible that this may seem strange to some non-combatants, but the mutual respect and comradeship were natural and genuine. The tour included a visit to Wingen-sur-Moder and to the Con-vent at Oberbronn, where Sister Catherine was the only remaining nun who had been there the night of 8 January 1945 when the 2nd Bn., 274th, needed shelter. Madame Paula Felden had retired as owner of Hotel Wenk, and it was operated by her niece (who had been with her in the cellar


— 191 —

during the battle), Rose Marie Leichtnam and her husband. Both the hotel and restaurant were doing a thriving business. Together, former American and German soldiers walked through the streets of the picturesque village, discussing the fierce battle that had raged there years before. It was a beautiful day, and all was quiet and peaceful. Somehow, it was difficult to compre-hend all that had happened. Madame Felden, once again in the midst of it all, smiled pleas-antly and was heard to remark, “It is a miracle!”


— 192 —


Report by Samuel B. Conley

CO, 274th Infantry Regiment

HIS article first appeared in the Summer 1992 issue of the Trailblazer, the Association’s quarterly publication, pp. 6-8, and Fall 1992 pp. 4-5.

Remarks by the editor of the Trailblazer magazine, Ed Arnold: T

53 years have passed since the Battle of Wingen-sur-Moder. Time has blurred memories enough so that men who fought side by side there often have sharply different recollections of the events. So it is interesting to read an account written only some five weeks after the battle when memory was fresh and when eye-witnesses could-and were-asked to corroborate the tale. Col. Samuel (Shootin’ Sam) Conley commander of the 274th Regt., sent this account of the battle to Lt.Gen. Alex-ander Patch, CO of the Seventh Army. As a result, the 2nd Bn. of the 274th was awarded the Distinguished Unit Citation. Wingen has been the subject of War College classes for years, an example of “coordina-tion” of small units.

— 193 —

For ten days prior to the assault on the enemy position at Wingen, France, the 2nd Bn., 274th Inf., was maneuvered into eight different defensive positions in an effort to counteract General von Rundstedt’s southern drive into the Alsatian Plain in Alsace-Lorraine, France. These moves were made over icy, slippery, snow covered mountains in bitter cold weather. Defensive positions had


— 194 —

to be dug in each new location and in most cases the work was ac-complished during the hours of darkness. The regiment’s forces were split as each battalion was launched on a separate mission in an effort to meet the enemy’s thrust over a wide area. Usually the only enemy information known was: that the enemy was on the offensive; his next drive was imminent; and it could be expected most anywhere. Such was the general situation on January. 5 when the 2nd Bn. was busily preparing several different defensive lines in the vicin-ity of Puberg, France, having arrived there after an all-night ride from a position along the Rhine River near Drusenheim, France. Word was received that the enemy had broken through to capture Wingen, France, located two miles to the east and that the 276th Inf. was battling desperately to drive the enemy from the town. At 1400, January 5, the 2nd Bn. received instructions to seize, occupy, and defend a position overlooking the village of Wingen. Time was short, and the move from Puberg to Wingen was initi-ated without delay over a treacherous, ice-covered mountain trail. Supplies would follow later, but it was then of the utmost impor-tance to occupy this new position during the hours of daylight so foxholes could be dug prior to dark. The 2nd Bn. suffered approximately 20 casualties driving back the enemy covering forces from the eastern edge of the woods overlooking the village of Wingen before it was able to occupy its assigned defensive position. A terrific battle could then be ob-served waging around the town where the 276th Inf. was engaged in a fierce battle to drive the enemy from the town. The situation was very vague. All that was known was that the enemy was in the town and the 276th was trying to drive them out. The location of the 276th Inf. was not known except that there were some elements of it several hundred yards to each of the 2nd Bn.’s flanks.


— 195 —

To add to the apparent confusion, shortly after this the 2nd Bn. was subjected to mortar, tank, and machine gun fire from all direc-tions. This fire had come from both friendly and enemy forces. It was later learned that the forward elements of the 276th did not have knowledge of the 2nd Bn.’s location and fired upon what they assumed to be enemy since the Germans had occupied this position shortly before. Darkness settled down as the battle raged around the town. By this time the 2nd Bn. had been operating continuously for 60 hours without rest in below-freezing temperatures and eight inches of snow. Foxholes still had to be prepared though, and the men, although near exhaustion, busied themselves with digging posi-tions and coordinating defenses. Enemy patrols were extremely active throughout the area. Communications and supply difficulties were soon encountered as enemy patrols were operating to the 2nd Bn.’s rear, along the densely wooded mountain trails between Wingen and Puberg. Telephone lines were often cut, pulled several hundred yards off the road, and then tied around a tree. Supplies were available only by hand-carrying parties over a treacherous, ice-covered cliff. It was impossible for even a ¼-ton truck to negotiate the steep grade. Several vehicles traveling the supply route were ambushed and de-stroyed by aggressive enemy patrols. As soon as defensive prepa-rations were well underway, the battalion commander, Lt. Col. W. F. Cheves, accompanied by his S-1, Capt. G.E. Boyea, departed on the long trek back and around to the 276th CP to receive instruc-tions. At 2100, the battalion commander reported to Brig.Gen. T.W. Herren at the 276th Inf. Regimental CP in Zittersheim. Upon arri-val, he was informed that the 276th Inf. was unable to drive the en-emy from Wingen and that the 2nd Bn., 274th Inf., was to attack at daybreak the next morning and recapture the town.


— 196 —

The attack had to be launched from the west only since there were friendly troops scattered throughout the area with no time to readjust forces. It was imperative that this town be recaptured without delay for the Germans were attacking desperately from the north in an effort to reinforce the garrison. The enemy strength was unknown, but the few PWs captured were all identified as mem-bers of the 12th SS Mountain Regt., their morale was excellent, and they were supported by numerous automatic weapons. They had succeeded in knocking out two American tanks. All American forces of the 276th in the sector were placed at the disposal of the 2nd Bn. commander, including an attached tank company. Artillery support would be furnished by the 45th Div., since the 274th and 276th were without their normal artillery battalions. The loss at Wingen, a key communication and road net center, was of prime importance to the Seventh Army front, and if not re-captured immediately would probably result in the withdrawal and reestablishment of the entire defensive line in that sector and give the Germans a route to the highly strategic Alsatian Plain. Upon receipt of the order, Lt.Col. Cheves consulted with vari-ous staff officers at the 276th CP to ascertain more information and to coordinate the attack in the morning. The 276th had been attack-ing for two days and had suffered severe casualties. The companies were disorganized, deployed over a wide area, and their exact loca-tion on the ground was not definitely known due to communication difficulties. The only method of obtaining artillery support would be through the 276th’s Forward Observer with an SCR 300 radio. It was already late at night and there was much to be done prior to the attack. Rifle company commanders had not been informed of the forthcoming attack as yet. Lieutenant Colonel Cheves decided to have the 1st Bn., 276th, remain in its present position, deployed along the woods south of the town as a holding force, since it was


— 197 —

impossible to coordinate an attack at this late hour with any assis-tance from them in their deployed state. The 3rd Bn., 276th, which had been attacking from the north side of town, would furnish a composite company from the rem-nants of that battalion, attack, and capture the high ground north of town. The tank commander was to report to the 2nd Bn., 274th OP, the very first thing in the morning. The 2nd Bn., 276th, was not in the immediate area and therefore not in position to assist. Lieutenant Colonel Cheves then returned over the treacherous mountain roads to his CP since there was much remaining work to be done, such as furnishing an early meal prior to the attack, issuance of orders and extra ammunition, and the multitude of other details that had to be worked out prior to the attack. Reconnaissance would be limited to an intensive study of maps. It was 0200 before all the company commanders and battalion staff officers could be assembled for the attack order which was to be launched at daybreak. Because of the vague enemy situations, it was decided to attack with one company, F, with two companies, E and G prepared to attack on order. A platoon of heavy machine guns from Co. H was attached to Co. F. The balance of H would be in general support. At daybreak, 0900, the 2nd Bn. led by Co. F, commanded by Capt. Robert J. Davenport, crossed the LD and moved across the open, flat ground into the town, supported by a 15-minute artillery preparation which was fired to cover area generally as the impor-tant enemy locations were not known. Good progress was made at first as F Company fought through the enemy’s outer defense, which consisted of two machine guns on the outskirts of the town supported by snipers that were well concealed in the houses.


— 198 —

However, the advance shortly dwindled to a rugged, bloody, house-to-house battle. It was then that the true estimate of the en-emy forces was determined. It was later disclosed that the strength consisted of two battalions of elite SS troops. In addition to the en-emy occupying literally every house in the town, they held the dominating high ground to the north which gave them a command-ing view of the entire town. This high ground was to be seized by the 3rd Bn., 276th. However, the effect of their attack could not be noticed, and it was learned afterwards that they started the attack late and then progress was extremely slow against an enemy that had to be blasted out of rock caves. Capt. Davenport, moving at the head of F Company, was hit twice, refused evacuation, and continued to lead his men relent-lessly forward against a determined, fanatical, and cunning foe. His radio operator was also hit but elected to stay with his company commander. F was now also receiving murderous flanking fire from the high ground to their left as well as from their front. Men were fail-ing on all sides as progress was limited to a house by house, room by room, painstaking, and costly battle for this important French town. The cold bitter snow added to the misery and suffering. The cries of the wounded, both friend and foe, were heard on all sides as any attempt at evacuation was a suicide mission. Many were left to die in the snow from exposure as the attack pushed on. The en-emy had no respect for the Geneva Convention Red Cross emblem of the medical aid men, and many medics were casualties along with their doughboy buddies. The cunning enemy was reflected in the manner in which he withheld his fire until the opportune moment when he would de-liver flanking fire while the F men were attacking an adjacent house. Or, as in one case, waiting until an entire squad had entered a shallow ditch for protection before opening fire and killing or


— 199 —

wounding the entire squad. The fanatical determination of this en-emy was demonstrated by the fact that they would not surrender until completely out of ammunition and any further resistance would have been suicide. The dead and wounded toll in Co. F continued to rise as the weary men battled slowly but steadily forward. Capt. Davenport was hit twice more and blinded by blood gushing from his head before he relinquished command of his company to Mahon, the executive officer. The radio operator was killed and the radio de-stroyed. The executive officer was wounded and then killed a few minutes later. F Co. continued to fight forward but the advance was fast coming to a halt. Twenty men had been killed and twenty-six wounded in this bitter struggle. From his vantage point at the Battalion OP, Lt.Col. Cheves summed up the situation. By this time the tank commander had reported. The battalion commander could now make a coordinated attack with E and G Company, supported by the tanks, at 1300. Considerable coordination must be made, especially between the rifle companies and the platoon of tanks that was to be used in the attack. E and G would attack abreast through F Company, E on the right. F would reorganize and become reserve when passed through; one platoon of heavy machine guns to be in direct support of both companies. The 81mm mortar platoon was to be in general support. The 2nd Bn. Anti-tank Plat. was now in position, firing at opportune targets, having traveled across the hazardous, icy moun-tain trail from Puberg. The guns had to be pulled through the deep snow and lowered into position with a series of winches. The bat-talion Ammunition & Pioneer Plat. was having unusually difficult supply problems, but by use of hand-carrying parties managed to keep the ammunition supply adequate over the icy, slippery moun-tain paths. Snipers still lurked in the woods and no place in the area was safe from enemy fire.


— 200 —

The second attack jumped promptly at 1300, preceded by a heavy artillery preparation. Enemy resistance continued as fierce as ever from both the town and the high ground overlooking the town. E and G Companies, commanded by Capt. L. A. Sisson and Lt. Fred Cassidy respectively, moved slowly forward through F Company. There they were met with a concentrated enemy ma-chine gun, mortar, hand grenade, and rifle barrage. Undaunted, the men moved forward aggressively, taking advantage of any avail-able cover as protection against the flying steel. There was very little cover available and the flat streets gave the enemy perfect fields of fire. The tanks could move only over one road and this was shortly after discovered as being mined. Although one tank had managed to maneuver through the minefield, an ambulance was knocked out a few minutes later when it attempted to get through the field in a desperate and brave effort to evacuate the many wounded who were now dying from exposure to the cold. A detail from the Battalion A & P was called upon to clear the road. Led by Sgt. John Rybicki, these men exposed themselves to a hail of enemy fire and almost certain death to clear the field to permit the tanks to advance. The roadblock was finally cleared and the attack continued. House by house, E and G stubbornly advanced, sustaining heavy casualties, particularly from the high ground to their left flank. The 276th had been unable to advance on this high ground and the 2nd Bn. companies were now an estimated 600 yards ahead of their adjacent unit from which they were separated by a steep embankment and a railroad track. It was difficult to neutralize this area accurately for fear of hitting friendly troops whose foremost location was indiscernible. Dusk approached as the fighting companies blasted their way toward the far edge of the town with their mission practically ac-complished. The town was aflame from the burning buildings and the sky was brightly illuminated as the blaze soared skyward. The


— 201 —

supporting tank platoon withdrew to Zittersheim to refuel and re-load with ammunition. At this psychological moment, the Germans counterattacked. The hill on the 2nd Bn.’s left flank, which had been producing dev-astating enfilade fire against their flank all day, against which ele-ments of the 3rd Bn., 276th had been unable to advance success-fully, now became alive with Germans yelling Re madmen as they swooped down over the railroad embankment into the flank of G Company which, through necessity, bore the brunt of this counter-attack. This ferocious charge succeeded in splitting and isolating the attacking companies. Everything was utter confusion as G Com-pany locked in a death struggle with these fanatics. Company E on the right, also felt the impact of the counterattack, but not as heav-ily as G had. The fires from the many burning buildings to the rear of E and G proved more of an advantage to the enemy as it af-forded them silhouetted targets whenever the men attempted to move. Scenes of death were everywhere as the two forces inter-mingled in a battle for life amidst exploding hand grenades, ba-zooka rounds crashing through buildings, and detonating artillery shells. The enemy counterattack was successful insofar as delaying the attack was concerned and the main forces of E and G were re-quired to establish a defensive position for the night some 200 yards to the rear of the furthest point of advance where a re-organization could be effected. Numerous gallant groups of both companies held out all night in isolated buildings surrounded by the enemy and intermittent small battles waged forth until dawn. These brave men frustrated every attempt to continue the attack and inflicted such heavy losses on the enemy that the German posi-tions became untenable and an enemy withdrawal began. F Company, in the meantime, had been reorganized and al-though the company strength had now dwindled to only 80 men,


— 202 —

they occupied an advantageous defensive position that protected the 2nd Bn.’s flank and prevented the enemy from exploiting the temporary success of his counterattack. Ammunition supply was given preference over the meager sup-ply routes, which meant the men spent another sleepless night in the extreme cold weather without blankets. The entire night was spent reorganizing and making preparation to continue the attack at daybreak. The 2nd Bn. completed its reorganization during the night; plans were made, and by daybreak was prepared to resume the of-fensive. The tanks returned at daybreak and moved out with one platoon of F Company, accompanying them for protection against snipers. A detail from the A & P Plat. was again called upon to clear the roads ahead of the tanks as they advanced. The tanks moved up to F and G position and the attack flared forth. Progress was rapid this time and house after house was system-atically cleared. Coordination between the tanks and infantry was perfect. The tanks would stand back and blast away at houses and when the fire lifted the infantry would charge, throwing hand gre-nades into the buildings. All enemy resistance within the town ended by noon and the town of Wingen was again completely in American hands. In one church building within the town E Company liberated approximately 250 American prisoners who had been captured the night of January. 3 when the Germans attacked with such swiftness to capture the town. The enemy atop the high ground north of Wingen had ex-pended the bulk of his forces in the counterattack the previous night, and now the 276th was able to move rapidly forward to se-cure this dominating terrain overlooking the town. The 2nd Bn., 274th, in its 48-hour battle, had achieved a significant victory for the Regiment, the Division, and the Seventh Army. Operating as a separate battalion and under almost insurmountable supply, com-


— 203 —

munication, and evacuation problems, in bitter cold, without food or rest, and with the loss of approximately 135 casualties, the 2nd Bn. had virtually destroyed two German battalions, liberated over 250 Americans held prisoner by the German forces, recaptured 32 American vehicles, three antitank guns, and hundreds of small arms. In summary, the 2nd Bn., 274th, had decisively defeated the Germans’ intention to hold and reinforce the town of Wingen from which they could launch a further offensive onto the Alsatian Plain where their armor could be exploited. By its aggressiveness [it showed] that Americans can overcome the most insurmountable obstacles with determination, and [showed] fighting spirit that ex-emplifies the finest traditions in the American army.


— 204 —


Distinguished Unit Citation

2nd Battalion, 274th Infantry Regiment

PRESIDENTIAL UNIT CITATION

WAR DEPARTMENT 19 JULY, 1945

GENERAL ORDER NO. 58

HE 2nd Bn., 274th Inf. Regt., is cited for outstanding per-formance in combat during the period 5 to 7 January, 1945, at Wingen, France:

At 1400, 5 January, the 2nd Bn., 274th Inf., received instruc-tions to prepare and occupy a defensive position overlook-ing the village of Wingen, France. At 2100, on 5 January, this Battalion received orders to recapture Wingen, which had fallen into German hands on 4 January and which since then had withstood the continuous and costly attacks of an adjacent Infantry Regiment. Reconnaissance was limited to the intensive study of maps; the nature of the terrain made supplies available only by hand carry down a treacherous, ice-covered cliff. The anti-tank guns of the Battalion had to be lowered at night by a series of winches over a hazardous mountain trail to accomplish their fire mission; the officers and men of this Battalion had been without rest for over

T

— 205 —


— 206 —

sixty hours; the German forces held dominating terrain overlooking the village of Wingen on the Battalion’s ex-posed left flank; the only method of receiving any artillery support was by requesting it through the SCR 300 radio of an adjacent Battalion. In spite of these problems, the attack was launched at dawn on 6 January across exposed terrain, against numeri-cally superior and fanatically resisting enemy forces in the form of two Battalions of the elite German 12th SS Moun-tain Regiment. The attack continued through out the day against intensive enemy fire, causing a heavy casualty toll in the ranks of the Battalion. The gallant esprit de corps of the 2nd Bn. was such, however, that by late afternoon over half of Wingen was in American hands. At dusk, the German defenders counterattacked fero-ciously and succeeded in splitting and isolating the units of the 2nd Battalion. With unhesitating disregard of personal safety, the officers and men of this Battalion tenaciously hung on to their positions and inflicted such heavy losses on the enemy that the German positions became untenable and an enemy withdrawal was begun during the night. Re-organizing at dawn on 7 January, the Battalion attacked again, destroying the remnants of the enemy forces. Thus, in two days, the 2nd Bn., 274th Inf., operating un-der almost insurmountable supply, communication, and evacuation problems, in bitter cold, without food or rest, and with the loss of 130 casualties, destroyed two German SS Battalions, liberating over 250 Americans held prisoner by the German forces, recaptured 32 American vehicles, three anti-tank guns, and hundreds of small arms. The determined fortitude, courage, and fighting spirit displayed by members of the 2nd Bn., 274th Inf., is exem-plary of the finest traditions of the American Army and will be inscribed indelibly in the annals of the American Infan-try.

BY ORDER OF THE SECRETARY OF WAR George C. MARSHALL

Chief of Staff


Killed in Action (KIA)

Wingen-sur-Moder 2nd Battalion, 274th Infantry

Name Rank Date Company HHoommee TToowwnn

Albertson, Albert A. Sgt. 4 January

1945 E Cedar City, Utah

Hurst, Fred B. Pfc. 5 January

1945 G Hailey, Idaho

Shellem, Hugh T. T/Sgt. 5 January

1945 G Philadelphia, Pa.

Bruce, Litton Pvt. 6 January

1945 F Talking Rock, Ga.

Davis, Robert D. Pfc. 6 January

1945 F Cutler, Indiana

Downing, Henry L. Pfc. 6 January

1945 F Warren, Ohio

Goody, Charles W. Pvt. 6 January

1945 F Ironton, Ohio

Hammerloff, Bertil E Sgt. 6 January

1945 F Boston, Mass.

Harris, William D T/Sgt. 6 January

1945 F Irving, Texas

Johnson, Thomas P. T/Sgt. 6 January

1945 F Dudley, Missouri

Jones, Kenneth L. Pvt. 6 January

1945 F Chestnut, La.

Kuffel, Frederick S. Pfc. 6 January

1945 F St. Cloud, Mn.

— 207 —


— 208 —

Name Rank Date Company HHoommee TToowwnn

Lassiter, Gaither Pvt. 6 January

1945 F Columbia, N.C.

Lathrop, Gerald I. Pfc. 6 January

1945 F Sumner, Illinois

Leavelle, John M. Pfc. 6 January

1945 F Levelland, Texas

Maxwell, Singleton M. Pfc. 6 January

1945 F Duluth, Georgia

Mahon, Lee E. 1st Lt. 6 January

1945 F Bronx, New York

Meshier, Wayne T. 2nd Lt. 6 January

1945 E Tecumseh, Ne-braska

Morningstar, Wayne A. Pfc. 6 January

1945 F Toledo, Ohio

Morvant, Jules Pvt. 6 January

1945 F Thibodaux, La.

Philippsen, Carl J. Pfc. 6 January

1945 F Detroit, Mi.

Scott , Carl L, Jr. Pfc. 6 January

1945 F Nicklesville, Va.

Soper, Gerald E. Pfc. 6 January

1945 F Aberdeen, S.D.

Wilson, Lee R. Pvt. 6 January

1945 G Spray, N.C.

Pruitt, Raymond E. Sgt. 6 January

1945 F Bloxon, Virginia

Figures based on official documents (70th Div., 1945) in the Na-tional Archives. Could be incomplete. Readers are urged to send additions and or corrections to the editor.


Wounded in Action (WIA)

Wingen-sur-Moder, France 2nd Battalion, 274th Infantry

4-7 January 1945

NNaammee RRaannkk Company

Baker, George L. S/Sgt. G

Daniels, Malcolm L. Pfc. G

Stepina, George Pfc. E

Allan, Robert N. Pfc. G

Blum, Waldo D. Pfc. G

Brown, Donald E. Pvt. G

Dethloff, Ralph L. S/Sgt. G

Emerson, Donald E. Sgt. G

Ferguson, Charles L. Pvt. G

Greene, Carl J. Pfc. E

Harrington, Robert E. Pfc. G

Hatfield, Woodrow Pfc. G

Hyatt, Leon M. Pfc. G

Hyver, Lester E. Pfc. G

Juarez, Benancio Pfc. G

Lane, Amos L. Pfc. G

Levin, Benjamin P. Cpl G

Natale, Joseph A. Pfc. G

Peters, William F. S/Sgt. G

— 209 —


— 210 —

Petro, Dominik Pfc. G

Selzer, Jack H. S/Sgt. G

Smith, John R. T/Sgt. E

Wexlar, Irving S/Sgt. G

Beck, Lee M. Cpl H

Becker, William P. Pfc. F

Beckstedt, William J. Pfc. F

Beran, Johnnie Pfc. F

Berg, Melvin E. Pvt. F

Bishop, Louis S. Sgt. H

Bougnet, Harold G. Pfc. G

Buckley, Ernest J Pfc. F

Bunkner, Jack Pfc. F

Carney, Edward E. Cpl F

Cassidy, Fred J. Capt G

Cramer, Garritt D. Pvt. F

Crouse, Charles L. Pfc. G

Czebotar, Harry S. Pfc. E

Davenport, Robert J. Capt F

Derksen, Peter L. S/Sgt. F

Delonais, John A. Sgt. G

DiMarzio, John R. S/Sgt. G

Donofrio, William M. S/Sgt. E

Fajardo, Ramon F. Sgt. F

Feaster, Clarence E. Sgt. G

Fleck. Theodore B. T/5 F

Morningstar, Wayne A. Pfc. F

Johnson, Thomas P.* T/Sgt. F

Davis, Robert D.* Pfc. F


— 211 —

Downing, Henry L.* Pfc. F

Philippsen, Carl J.* Pfc. F

Gilmore, Lloyd J. Pfc. F

Goodwin, Roy Pfc. G

Goody, Charles W. Pvt. F

Gould, John L. Pfc. F

Hawkins, Newton S/Sgt. F

Hunt, Woodrow V. Pfc. G

Jenkins, Jessie P. Pvt. F

Justice, Jack W. Pfc. F

Kessler, Ernest J Pvt. E

Kielar, Joseph G. Pfc. G

Kliever, Edward E. Pvt. G

Keyes, Bud Pfc. F

Lockard, Clifford Pfc. Hq.

Long, Jeff O. Pvt. G

Lundgrin, Godfrey S/Sgt. G

McCrobie, Thomas F. Pfc. G

Midyett, Robert K. S/Sgt. G

Mull, Menlo D. Pfc. F

Neuhaus, Floyd A. Pfc. F

O’Dell, William E. Pfc. G

O’Leary, Charles E. Sgt. E

Peplow, Irwin F. Pfc. F

Reichel, Lester J 2d Lt. H

Richards, Albert L. Pfc. G

Roller, George R. Pfc. F

Hammerloff, Bertil E.* Sgt. F

Mahon, Lee E.* 1st Lt. F


— 212 —

Jones, Kenneth L.* Pvt. F

Morvant, Jules* Pvt. F

Rose, Edwin A. Pfc. F

Salaiz, Jose Pfc. F

Scrimshire, James A. Pfc. H

Shelton, Walter F. Pfc. G

Shoap, Walter P. Pfc. G

Shook, Wayne L. (Medic) Pfc. F

Youkers, Albert C. Sgt. E

Silverman, Edward J. Pfc. F

Stilinovich, John W. Pfc. E

Towey, Thomas E. Pfc. F

Watkins, Clarence G. Pfc. F

Wengren, Edward F. Pfc. F

Whalen, Wesley D. S/Sgt. F

Wilmoth, Clarence R. T/Sgt. G

Winsett, Raymond E. Pvt. G

Names marked with an “*” were later killed during the same day. See KIA list. Information is based on official documents and is as complete as possible. Figures based on official documents (70th Div., 1945) in the Na-tional Archives. Could be incomplete. Readers are urged to send additions and or corrections to the editor.


— 213 —

TOTALS BY COMPANY

HQ. COMPANY KIA WIA

0 1

COMPANY E KIA WIA

2 10

COMPANY F KIA WIA 21 35

COMPANY G

KIA WIA 3 40

COMPANY H

KIA WIA 0 4

Numbers that were captured or missing are unknown.


— 214 —


Unit Report

2-4 January 1945

CONFIDENTIAL UNIT REPORT NO. 7 From: 1800, 2 January 1945 To: 1800, 4 January 1945 Unit: TF Fox Date: 4 January 1945 Place: Wietswieller, France Maps: Eastern France, 1/50,000 1. ENEMY:

a. Units in contact: No change. b. Enemy reserves that can affect our situation. No change. c. No activity in rear area. d. Enemy strength and probable knowledge of situation: En-

emy activity to the front of our sector indicates an undeter-mined amount of armor, artillery and infantry troops. Mo-rale is probably high. Knowledge of our situation should be lacking in detail as to unit designation, strength and re-serves.

— 215 —


— 216 —

e. Conclusions:

(1) Enemy is capable of infiltrating strong combat patrols into our rear areas to harass or destroy separated units or CP’s.

(2) Enemy is capable of a limited objective attack. (3) Enemy is capable of defending strongly in prepared po-

sitions North of lines now held. Capabilities No. 1 and No. 2 will in all likelihood be used

and can be used at night. It is reported by Liaison Offi-cer from Pagen that the 12th SS opposing them will at-tempt to secure Wimmenau tonight. The use of these capabilities would have very little, if any, effect on our mission at present.

2. OWN SITUATION:

a. See overlay. b. See overlay. c. See overlay. d. Second Bn. (Co.’s E and G) on VOCG engaged in clearing

out woods West of Wingen. Left Puberg at 1510 and com-pleted scarring out woods by 1700 and occupied a defensive position Northwest and overlooking Wingen. First Bn. at-tached to 275th Inf., effective 0400, 1 January 1945. Third Bn., Cannon Company and Antitank Company in defensive position in vicinity of Schneitzwald Forest.

e. Excellent. f. Completed movement from vicinity Bischwiller to vicinity

Petite Pierre. Two Companies of 2nd Bn. in contact with en-emy.


— 217 —

3. ADMINISTRATIVE: a. Strength: No change. (less First battalion) b. Casualties: Five (5) non-battle casualties c. Prisoners captured: None. d. Evacuation: Normal. e. Location of supply and evacuation establishments of interest

to higher headquarters: Train Bivouac—see overlay. Water Dump opened 1200, 4 January 1945 at Dosenheim

f. Status of Supply: (1) Rations on hand:

One Complete 10 in 1 One Complete “C” One-third “K” “B” for tomorrow’s consumption, 5 January 45.

(2) Ammunition on hand: One and one-half basic load. (3) Gasoline and oil: No change.

g. Roads clear of mines: No change.

4. GENERAL: No comment

—S.G. Conley Colonel, 274th Infantry

Commanding 1 Incl. S-3 Overlay


— 218 —


Unit Report

6-7 January 1945

UNIT REPORT No. 10 From: 1800, 6 January 1945 To: 7 January 1945 Unit: TF Fox Date: 7 January 1945 Place: Ingwiller, France Maps: Eastern France, 1/50,000 1. ENEMY:

a. Units in Contact: White Bn.: 1st and 3d Bn., 12th SS Mtn Troops, Blue Bn.: 477 VG Regt, 952d and 953 VG Regt, 257 VG Div, 361 VG Div

b. Tactical employment of reserves unknown. c. Enemy withdrew from town of Wingen after making coun-

terattack at 1900, 6 January. Snipers and small groups of machine gunners were left behind to cover withdrawal. Last of enemy was cleared from Wingen at 1330. Prisoners cap-tured by White Bn. were processed by 276th Inf. In Blue Area, L Co., reinforced, was taken under fire by dug-in ma-chine guns in vicinity of 833-368. Eleven prisoners were taken at this location and evacuated normally. These prison-

— 219 —


— 220 —

ers were from 361 Inf. VG Div, 257 VG Div, and 477 VG regt.

d. Strength of most units is less than half strength, and in some cases less than a third strength. Supplies and ammunition are lacking generally. Some of the PW’s had not eaten for sev-eral days. Their moral is low due to cold weather, lack of supplies and the beating they are taking. The enemy’s knowledge of our situation is limited to what may have been revealed by PW’s.

e. The enemy may defend in hastily prepared positions and fall back slowly to the Siegfried Line.

The enemy may launch a coordinated attack against a lim-

ited objective. The enemy may use mines, both AT and AP, booby traps

and harassing patrols to hamper our advance. The latter seems to be most likely for immediate use and be

employed at will. 2. OWN SITUATION:

a. See overlay. b. See overlay. c. See overlay. d. 2nd Bn. drove enemy from Wingen; operation completed

1330. Approximately 150 US troops released from captivity. Consolidated position, reorganized, and assembled in mo-bile reserve. 3rd Bn. maintained defenses of Rothback; maintained defensive position East of Lichtenberg; these de-fenses heavily attacked by enemy all during afternoon, 7 January 1945; defenses maintained; attack terminated with darkness.


— 221 —

e. Excellent. f. Successful termination of operations at Wingen. Defense of

Rothback and active defense of positions east of Lichten-berg.

3. ADMINISTRATIVE:

a. Strength: 1st and 2nd Bns. not available. 3rd Bn.: 776 EM 31 Off Spec Units: T/O less basics.

b. Casualties: 3rd Bn.: 23 c. Prisoners captured: Eleven (see Par 1a) d. Evacuation: Normal. e. Location of Supply: No change. f. Status of Supply:

(1) Rations: on Hand:

Two (2) days B Rations 2/3 days K Rations 1/3 days C Rations 1 days 10 in 1

(2) Ammunition on Hand: 1 1/4 units of fire. (3) Gasoline and Oil: 1½ days of supply.

g. Roads clear of mines: No change.

4. GENERAL: No comment.

—S.G. Conley Col, Inf. Comdg

Incl. Incl 1. S-2 Overlay Incl 2. S-3 Overlay


— 222 —


Bibliography

SELECT READING LIST INGEN-SUR-MODER was one of many battles fought during Operation Nordwind. These battles and those of Northeast France in the Alsace-Lorraine region have

been relegated to the back pages of history, overshadowed by ac-tion to the north; The Battle of the Bulge and the crossing of the Rhine.

W Not many books have been written covering this forgotten bat-tlefield. It is hoped that this book will spark your interest in the subject. Below is a select list of books to help you on your journey. “Seven Days in January,” by the late Wolf Zoepf. Herr Zoepf fought with the 6th SS Mountain Div. at Wingen. His book is a well balanced, objective view of the battle from the German side. Available from Aberjona Press, P.O. Box 629, Bedford, PA 15522. Cost is $19.95 plus $4.00 shipping and handling. “Seventh Army Report of Operations,” by the Historical Branch of the U.S. Seventh Army, 1945. A huge work, originally in three volumes. It is currently available in two volumes by Battery Press. Check your local bookstores for availability. “Riviera to the Rhine,” by Jeffrey J. Clark and Robert Ross Smith. This book is a volume in the US Army’s official history of World War II. Available through the US Government Printing Of-fice. “Winter Storm: War in Northern Alsace, November 1944-March, 1945” by Lise M. Pommois. Turner Publishing Company, Kentucky. This book was commissioned by the 42nd “Rainbow”

— 223 —


— 224 —

Div. and thus concentrates on their actions. Other units are also covered. Check your local bookstores for availability. “When the Odds Were Even,” by Keith E. Bonn. This book is a concise and accurate look at the Vosges Mountains Campaign, Oc-tober 1944 - January 1945. Available from Presidio Press. “Into The Mountains Dark,” by Frank Gurley. Aberjona Press, 2001. A fascinating tale of a young Ivy Leaguer who found himself as a 19-year-old 100th Inf. Div. rifle squad scout in the Vosges Mountains. A profound coming of age story of a young man’s transition to manhood. Emotionally charged, meticulously edited, and expertly packaged, Into the Mountains Dark is a wonderful World War II memoir. “The Final Crisis,” by Dick Engler. Aberjona Press, 1999. The Final Crisis is a rare account and insightful analysis of the fierce combat in Lower Alsace during Operation Nordwind in January 1945. From an hour before the last New Year’s Day of the war un-til late January, this quiet, culturally-ambiguous corner of north-eastern France was rent by a vicious attack intended to physically and politically split the French from the western Alliance. Ulti-mately involving five German and two American corps, some of the finest remaining German formations were thrown into this last toss of the dice against American units ranging from the highly-experienced 45th “Thunderbird” Inf. Div. to the completely green, incompletely-trained all-infantry “task forces” of the 42nd, 63rd, and 70th Inf. Divisions.

REFERENCES “Attack by 361st V.G. Division, January 1945” by Generalmajor A.

Philipi. “Snow, Ridges, and Pillboxes,” a history of the 274th Inf. Regt. in

World War II, compiled and edited by Lt.Col. Wallace Cheves. “Wingen-sur-Moder,” Societe d’Histoire et d’Archeologie de

Saverne et Environs, II-III 1977.


— 225 —

“History of the 14th Armd. Division” (World War II) by Capt. Jo-seph Carter.

“The Fighting Forty-Fifth,” U.S. Army, 45th Division, Historical Board Compiler.

U.S. Army Military History Research Collection, Carlisle Bar-racks, Pa. 17013

Narrative Report, 275th Inf. Regt., January 1945. Narrative Report, 276th Inf. Regt., January 1945. Narrative Report, 274th Inf. Regt., January 1945. G-3 Report, Task Force Herren (70th Inf. Div.) 5-7 January 1945. The Seventh United States Army, Report of Operations in France

and Germany, 1944-45 (3 Volumes). VI Corps History, January 1945. 781st Tk. Bn., Unit History, 1-31 January 1945. “History of 313th Infantry (79th Div.) in World War II.” “Personal Diary Notes,” III./Gebirgsjäger-Regt. 12 “M.G.” by

Wolf T. Zoepf, former Battalion Adjutant III./12 and CO, Headquarters Company.

For on-line information: http://www.trailblazersww2.org.


— 226 —


— 227 —

“L’avant Gard”, Distinguished Unit Insignia, 274th Infantry Regiment

Lt. Col. Wallace Cheves, CO, 2nd Bn., 274th Infantry.


— 228 —

70th Division emblem.

6th SS Division tactical emblem.


— 229 —

Copy of the original message to Commanding Officer, Co. E, Capt. Eugene A. Sisson. Captain Boyea sent copies to the other company CO’s. It was written at 1210, 4 January 1945, not 1944.

Lieutenant Edwin David Cooke (Los Angeles, California), Co. B, 276th, re-enacts scene where he and Lt. Peebles, Co. I, lay all night in ditch, playing ‘dead.’ In background, sprawled face up on roadway, is T/Sgt. William D. Harris (Irving, Texas), Co., F, 274th, who was killed on the morning of 6 January. The American ambulance in the rear was disabled when it ran over camouflaged land mine. [Sig-nal Corps Photo]


— 230 —

AT Gun. The 2nd Bn./274th was without its supporting artil-lery, so its 57mm AT Guns were lowered into positions and used for direct fire on enemy targets. [Courtesy of Trail-blazers, Dave Turner and Associates, 1984.]

Battalion Aid Station. Located in the woods west of Win-gen. A pit was scooped out of the ground to provide pro-tection for the wounded who wrapped in blankets, waiting to be evacuated. [Courtesy of Trailblazers, Dave Turner and Associates, 1984]


— 231 —

Gunner fires a U.S. heavy machine gun from a window. 70th Inf. Div., Wingen-sur-Moder, 6 January 1945. [National Ar-chives #111-SC-364315]

Technical Sergeant F.J. Conners (Brighton, Mass.) leads group of POWs along Zittersheim road. With fixed bayo-net, Pfc. Stanley L. Smith of Newton, Massachusetts, guards the rear. Smith recalls: “It was a long hike to Zittersheim, but we got there before dark, and were met by MPs from the 45th Div. who took them into a room one by one for questioning by an American officer. I couldn’t understand German so went outside and had chow with a 45th Div. chow truck.”


— 232 —

W

inge

n-su

r-M

oder

. The

com

posit

e pi

ctur

e on

thi

s pa

ge w

as t

aken

abo

ut 1

500

hour

s, 6

Janu

ary,

194

5, f

rom

Obs

erva

tion

Post,

2n

d Bn

., 27

4th I

nf. (

Vill

a Fr

anz)

whi

le th

e ba

ttle

was

in p

rogr

ess.

Nor

th is

left

, sou

th is

rig

ht. T

he n

umbe

rs r

epre

sent

: 1.

Tan

k al

ert t

o pr

even

t cou

nter

atta

ck a

t Hot

el W

enk.

2.

Thi

s sp

ire is

nat

ural

ly a

Ger

man

OP;

dea

d Je

rrie

s ou

tsid

e of

chu

rch.

3.

Hot

el W

enk

burn

s fr

om A

T fir

e.

4. A

cou

ple

of M

4’s

mov

ed in

to to

wn.

One

was

kno

cked

out

. 5.

Lt.

Coo

ke s

how

s ho

w h

e pl

ayed

dea

d.

6. L

ook

clos

ely

and

you’

ll se

e a

GI p

atro

l clim

bing

the

bank

. 7.

Thi

s is

how

the

infa

ntry

get

s ar

ound

…Je

ep w

ith tr

aile

r; o

ccup

ants

are

pro

babl

y un

der

cove

r or

sea

rchi

ng f

or a

ny s

tray

kra

uts

in s

urro

undi

ng h

ouse

s.

8. M

ain

body

of

infa

ntry

is h

ere.

9.

Ant

i-tan

k gu

n sh

ells

Hot

el W

enk.

10

. Tan

k fir

es a

t clo

se r

ange

into

…

11. C

aptiv

es r

elea

sed

whe

n w

e to

ok o

ver.

They

look

ed r

ough

. 12

. Thi

s Sh

erm

an is

she

lling

the

far

side

of to

wn

on th

e le

ft.

[P

hoto

Cou

rtes

y of

the

fam

ily o

f G

en. T

hom

as H

erre

n]


— 233 —

7 January 1945, Capt. Eugene A. Sisson, CO, E/274, fol-lowed by his radio operator, enters the church where over 250 American POWs were held captive in the cellar since a.m. of 4 January 1945. [T/4 Newell, U.S. Signal Corps]

Task Force Herren troops fire at suspected sniper positions in Wingen-sur-Moder. Picture taken from Signal Corps mo-tion picture. [National Archives]


— 234 —

Survivors from F/274, who spearheaded the attack on 6 January, receive mail while still wearing full battle rega-lia. Left to right: S/Sgt. Alex Pollack, Pfc. Stan Smith, Pfc. Charles Becks, Pfc. Jack Mongold and Sgt. Dominic Ren-zaglia. [Courtesy of Trailblazers, Dave Turner and Associ-ates, 1984]

Wingen, 7 January, after the bat-tle is over, Sgt. Dominic Renzaglia, F Co., 274th, demonstrates method of smashing through doorways in search of Germans hidden in houses. [Signal Corps Photo]


— 235 —

Capture of Saarbrucken. GIs of U.S. 70th Inf. Div. seen with a Nazi flag and por-trait of Hitler. 22 March 1945. [Source unknown]


— 236 —


— 237 —


— 238 —


— 239 —


— 240 —


— 241 —

Infiltration of 6th SS Nord units. Situation 4-5 January 1945.


— 242 —

Situation at Wingen, 6 January 1945.

battle of wingen sur moder operation nordwind

Documents