Here it is the beginning of April, the war in Europe has less than six weeks to go, the hedgerows of Normandy, the breakout from St. Lo, the Falaise Gap, the 106th Panzer brigade, the first Moselle crossing, the Saar River crossing and the battle of Dillingen, the Battle of the Bulge, the Siegfried Line, the second Moselle crossing, the crossing of the Rhine, all of these are behind the men of D Company, 712th Tank Battalion, and their “little” 17 ton Stuart tanks, yet some of the most dangerous fighting lay ahead in those next six weeks, when for all of the beaucoup Germans they would take as prisoners there were men and boys with Panzerfausts in copses of woods or ground floor windows, there were solitary suicidal snipers, and every town with a white sheet hanging in a window held a potential ambush just down the road. The unofficial policy as the tankers plowed through the heart of Germany was that if a white sheet signified safe passage and the tanks were fired upon, the town was to be burned to the ground. While I didn’t learn the details or the location or the company of tankers involved, when in 1999 I visited the village of Heimboldshausen where a major event in A Company’s history took place, I learned that one nearby village suffered such a fate.

On a more positive note, the company would take part in guarding the Merkers salt mine, where a vast amount of Nazi gold, as well as gold teeth from concentration camp victims, priceless artworks and stacks of currency of all sorts of denominations were stored. The story of the mine is told in the movie “The Monuments Men.”

11 April 1945

SUBJECT: Company Journal

TO: Commanding Officer, 712th Tank Battalion

The following is a daily journal of the Organization from 1 April to 10 April 1945.

1 April 1945

The Company remained at Ndr. Jossa and spent the day in performing maintenance on all vehicles. Installation was completed on the 506-radio in the C.O. peep.

The 2nd Platoon was alerted at 1800 and moved to Niederaula where they set up outposts for the night.

2 April 1945

The 3rd Platoon was alerted at 0630 and moved to Blitzenrod where they contacted the 3rd Bn., 359th Inf. Their mission was to work with the Infantry and clear a pocket of about 700 Germans that were ambushing convoys. They moved out through Harbstein and went on the right flank for about 28 kms. (kilometers) combing roads and woods with the Infantry mounted on tanks. On this mission 72 prisoners were captured. At 1600 they went into a defensive position and at 1800 were informed to move back to Blitzenrod as the Germans were reported swinging further North. They set up defensive positions in Blitzenrod for the remainder of the night.

(On April 2 a convoy of trucks from A Company taking ammunition to the front was ambushed, with one man killed and another captured, although he would be freed in a day or two. It was after this that the convoys were given protection.)

The 2nd Platoon returned to the Company at 0700, but moved out again at 1330 to take the same positions at Niederaula. 10 prisoners were taken.

The 1st Platoon moved out at 1300 to Herbstein, where they reported to Division Q.M. (quartermaster) for convoy escort duty.

The Hq. Platoon left Ndr. Jossa at 1345 and moved to Niederaula.

3 April 1945

At 1145 the 2nd Platoon was recalled from its outpost positions around Niederaula, and moved with the Hq. Platoon and Hq. Company to Ausbach. They arrived at 1310.

The 1st Platoon continued to provide protection for their convoys. The 1st section left with a convoy headed for Hannau, while the 2nd section reformed around Sarge.

The 3rd Platoon remained in outpost positions at Blitzenrod.

The balance of the Company remained at Niederaula until 0900 and moved with Battalion to Ausbach.

4 April 1945

The 2nd Platoon was alerted at 0630 and joined with the 1st Troop, 90th Rcn. The 1st section with attached Rcn. took Volkershausen, Martinroda, Dietlas, Hohlborn, and Langefelt. They outposted Langefelt for the night. The 2nd section went with the 2nd Platoon Rcn., and took Marringart, Gehaus - 2 prisoners, Ochsen - 3 prisoners, and Oberalba, which they outposted for the night.

The 1st Platoon returned to the Company at Ausbach.

The 3rd Platoon was released and returned to the Company at 1700.

5 April 1945

The 2nd Platoon reassembled its sections at 0600, and moved into Breitungen and took 15 prisoners, Hereges-Votges, 10 prisoners, Kleinchamelden, Holeborn, Schnellback, and outposted the latter town for the night.

The 3rd Platoon was alerted at 0600 and were attached to Task Force Dye at Hereges-Votges, where they took 22 prisoners. They joined and relieved the 2nd section of the 2nd Platoon at Brotterode. While here they were informed of a prison camp in the vicinity containing Allied prisoners, and Cpl. Benda’s tank with a Rcn. car and peep volunteered to investigate it. They moved forward through 2 towns and liberated 200 British PWs, and took 30 German prisoners. The Platoon set up defensive positions at Brotterode and remained there for the balance of the night. 34 more prisoners were taken through the night.

The balance of the Company moved to Tiefenort at 1100

Dale Albee was showing me some pictures in his album when I interviewed him at his home in Prospect, Oregon. You’ll have to use your imagine a bit since I don’t have copies of the photos.

“Did you have the light tanks already in the Tennessee maneuvers?” I asked.

“M-hm. Yeah,” he said. “We were light tanks from the time we hit Benning. We had the old M2A4, which had a shotgun starter, and the gearshift. That’s the one that I think Freeberg was talking about, that you leaned clear down like this to shift it, double-clutch it to get it in.”

“A shotgun starter it was called?” I said.

“Yeah, a 12-gauge shotgun. It was diesel.”

“That’s what they really used? A shotgun?”

“Dale Albee: Yeah. It didn’t have the pellets in it, but it was a shotgun. You put it in back in there and fired it, and it gave it the kick to start the engine. ... That’s an oldtime picture because the only one I recognize is Morin and Austerleaf. ... This is me with my beautiful face ... We had a fire in our motor pool and that’s how bad I was burned.”

“A fire in the motor pool?”

“M-hm.”

“That was pretty bad. How did that break out?”

“Oh, we came down there and a guy, he took a five-gallon gas can and had the fire ready to light, and he took the can and dumped it in like this, and there was embers in there, and it blew up. And he turned around and started running, and instead of running with the can backward, like this, he ran with the flames hitting his hand and he dropped it and gas went all over. We like to never got out of that thing alive. And we were trapped there, because all of a sudden, you didn’t really know where you were, because there was smoke and flames all around you. Just by guessing, by god, we got out. But I had second and third degree burns all over my hands and my face. That’s the reason I don’t have any eyebrows up there now, my glasses above them.”

“So you, actually, you nearly had your worst injury before the war even started.”

“M-hm.”

“That was at Benning?”

“Yeah, Fort Benning. Our motor shed burned down.

“Some of this stuff won’t be much ... Now this is Boogedy, and this is Joe ... Joe Green the Englishman.”

“Tell me about Green.”

“Alrighty. Green was the one, we went ahead and we liberated 200 Marines...I mean Englishmen, and brought them back. Well now, Joe, he had been marched from Dieppe, where these British were captured, all the way to when we found them in Germany, and he said he didn’t want to go back and he had a score to settle. So with noplace to put him, I said, ‘Well, you’ll have to ride the back deck of the tank.’

“Which he did for a while, and then I had, one of the men was wounded, and so we put him in his position and he rode there and then later on he became a gunner, and he stayed with us and Joe just became one of us. And back at headquarters, nobody knew that I had an Englishman in my platoon, because we dressed him in American gear, and it was so seldom that we spent a lot of time near the headquarters. Even when we went back and turned track, Joe was right in there and nobody ever paid any attention to him. And it was kind of surprising to them that all of a sudden I came up with a British prisoner up in Czechoslovakia. But I had to let Joe go then because really, I could have been court martialed for not sending him back, and if the old man had found out, he’d have been more than willing to court martial me. Anything to get rid of me. He had me on orders to go to Japan.”

“No...”

“Oh yeah. There was two medium tank officers and one light tank they wanted, and there was no doubt about who there was, I was on orders.”

“He didn’t ask for volunteers?”

“Oh, no. No, no.”

Later in the interview we talked about trying to contact a British newspaper to see if they could locate Joe Green, one of the many threads in my interviews that I regret failing to follow up on.

“It’s not impossible,” I said, “but with a name like Joe Green, it might be tough.”

“Yeah, but if you mention just a few items, and he would know in a minute. Because if you mention Borden, you know, Boogedy, that he was riding with. I’ve got a picture of him sitting on a woodpile with Boogedy, and he helped us turn track. Nobody but Joe would know those stories. And the time he saved my damn life when a sniper, a guy leaned out and pulled a Ziebarth, and he opened up on him and killed the guy, Joe did that.”

“What happened? He pulled a Ziebarth?”

“Yeah. Ziebarth was the one I told you that fired at that guy that leaned out and fired. Joe, for some reason, was right there near the ack-ack gun, and I was doing something on that, and I just started to get out of the tank, and all of a sudden Joe said ‘Duck!’ And grabbed the ack-ack gun. And what he had seen was this guy standing up, getting ready to shoot. And Joe caught him. It was just, I never even saw the man, I was just, pull around here, and started to get out. And Joe caught him. He was standing right there by my ack-ack gun, and he just ‘Duck!’ And believe me, by that time, when anybody said ‘Duck,’ you drop. No questions asked, it was just automatic. And so boy, the first thing I did was drop down.”

6 April 1945

The 1st and Hq. Platoons moved from Tiefenort (710-515) at 1000 with Bn., and set up a C.P. at Merkers (674-500). A left flank guard was set up for the Bn. sector.

The 1st Platoon with 4 tanks were sent to guard the entrance of the gold deposit mine at 1700 located at the E. end of Merkers.

The 2nd Platoon left Schnellbeck at 1400 and moved to Herrenhreitungen where they guarded a bridge while units passed by.

The 3rd Platoon remained in Brotterode until 1230, and were relieved by the 87 Inf. Div. They went to Herrenhreitungen and assisted the 2nd Platoon in guarding the bridge.

7 April 1945

The Hq. remained at Merkers for the day.

The 2nd section of the 1st Platoon was sent to guard a second entrance of a mine containing storages from museums and other items of value. This entrance was located near Dietlas (652-590). The 1st section remained on guard at the gold storage mine.

The 2nd and 3rd Platoons remained guarding the bridge at Herrenhreitungen.

8 April 1945

The Hq. section moved with Bn. from Merkers at 1510, and made a 36 mile march to Zella Mehlis (NO65336), and arrived at 1900.

No changes took place with the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Platoons.

[Zella Mehlis was the site of the Walther arms factory, whose pistols were later made famous by James Bond. From accounts of other companies, the factory was pretty much emptied already when the battalion arrived.]

9 April 1945

Tracks were turned on tank 23 which had returned from Ordnance. All Headquarters vehicles were washed and cleaned on the inside and outside.

No changes took place with the 2nd Platoon.

The 3rd Platoon remained in the same place and started work on turning the tank tracks.

10 April 1945

The 1st Platoon remained guarding the mine entrances.

The 2nd Platoon was relieved from guarding the bridge at 1000, and returned to the Company area at Zella Mehlis at 1300 after a road march of 25 miles.

The 3rd Platoon continued to guard the bridge and to turn their tank tracks. By the time they were relieved at 1600 they had completely changed the tracks on 3 tanks. A lack of tools prevented them from completing the Platoon. They returned to the Company area at 1800.

The Company remained in Zella Mehlis performing maintenance on their vehicles and cleaning them up.

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This is the latest installment of my work-in-progress, “The Best ‘Little’ Tank Company in the European Theater Operations.” To read from the beginning or catch up on earlier episodes, please visit my home page.

Welcome to “The Best ‘Little’ Tank Company in the European Theater of Operation, which follows the ‘light’ Stuart tanks of D Company, 712th Tank Battalion, through 311 days of combat, most of them on the front lines of World War 2. At the heart of the story is the D Company log, a remarkably detailed after action type journal that the company clerk copied for some of the men at the risk of being court martialed, and a trio of lengthy interviews I did with three members of the company: Andy Schifler, a tank driver; Dale Albee, a sergeant who earned a battlefield commission; and Lex O’Brient, a platoon leader. I’ve lost track of how many episodes I’ve done, but I try to keep each episode readable and informative as a standalone Substack. At the heart of the story are the entries from the company journal. Here’s a link to the first episode.

In the previous episode, I made a mistake in the naming of a town. Dale Albee got ahead of is story a bit and mentioned a town called Rotarota, and that’s how I transcribed it, although I was unable to find its proper spelling by googling it, as I did with several other of the many towns they passed through, encountering roadblocks and firefights and taking multitudes of prisoners along the way. In a later entry the town was identified as Broterrode. There are probably other misspellings sprinkled throughout, but most of the village names were taken directly from the company log.

For earlier episodes, please visit my home page.

1 April 1945

Subject: Company Journal

To: Commanding Officer, 712th Tank Battalion

The following is a daily journal of this Organization from 21 March to 31 March 1945.

21 March 1945

The 1st Platoon continued its advance through Friesenheim, Dexheim, Dalheim, and outposted Mommenheim for the night.

The 2nd Platoon moved at 1400 to Lorzweiler and knocked out a truck going into town. Another truck was spotted going towards Herxheim. Sgt. Kwiatkowski pursued it and finally knocked it out after chasing it for about a mile. In Lorzweiler 12 prisoners and 4 trucks were taken. The Platoon was ordered back to Mommenheim, reorganized, and at 2000 took Nackenheim with 15 prisoners.

At 0900 the 3rd Platoon reinforced the 1st Platoon and contacted them at Dexheim where they went into position. Their mission was to push up to the River [This would be the Rhine] and take Dienheim, but in the meantime the 4th Armored Division had pushed through and took it. The Platoon moved with Rcn. and took and outposted Schwabsburg. At 2300 they were returned to the Company area at Ndr. Saulheim. At 2330 they were ordered to reinforce Capt. Dye at Lorweiler and moved into position there for the night. [Will you look at these hours? These tankers are moving at all hours of the night!]

22 March 1945

The Company joined the 1st Platoon at Mommenheim and stayed for the night.

The 2nd Platoon continued to outpost Nackenheim.

The 3rd Platoon moved at 1200 to the defensive position on the River at Nackenheim with the 2nd Platoon. They had to go into position after darkness because of direct observation.

23 March 1945

At 0400 the area of the 2nd and 3rd Platoons were shelled by our own artillery falling short. At dawn they moved back from their positions and later rejoined the Company at Mommenheim.

The Company moved from Mommenheim and set up a C.P. [command post] at Obr. Saulheim.

24 March 1945

The Company rested for the day and at 1730 moved out to cross the Rhine River. The road was heavily traveled and there were numerous enemy planes that flew over and drew a large amount of fire. The convoy itself was not molested by the planes. As the Company crossed the Rhine, a large column of German prisoners were marching across the bridge in the opposite direction. The Company set up a C.P. and remained at Ginsheim for the balance of the night.

25 March 1945

The Platoons left Ginsheim at 0700 with the mission of taking Darmstadt, a city of a prewar population of 89,000. Little information was available as to the troop strength and the general situation within the city. The outskirts were approached after about a 12 mile march and the forces split. the 3rd Platoon with a platoon of Rcn., constituting Task Force Kelley, moved on the main road approaching the city. At the edge of the woods just on the outskirts of the city 88 prisoners were taken. In the town itself a bit of small arms fire was encountered, and later 28 prisoners taken. The middle of the city was reached and 18 more prisoners taken. Contact was then made with the 4th Armored Division who had pushed in from the left flank, and the town was cleared with little other resistance.

The 1st and 2nd Platoons with a platoon of Rcn. supported the 3rd Platoon’s operations from the left flank. This force was Task Force Wagnon.

The 3rd Platoon outposted the city in the vicinity of the Railroad station and Sgt. Holmes took 21 prisoners. The 1st Platoon outposted the road N.E. of town. While there 2 Rcn. peeps [a peep was a small military vehicle, similar to a jeep] pushed through reconnoitering the road and several hundred yards ahead was knocked out by enemy action. The Force was notified by the civilians that there were 3 companies of enemy Infantry ahead in the woods. Several civilians were ordered to contact the enemy forces and give them a chance to surrender. The enemy group had apparently moved out in the meantime as only a small group of about 20 soldiers were contacted. Members of Headquarters Platoon took 8 prisoners from the woods in that area. The night was spent in the N.E. section of town.

26 March 1945

At 0600 the 1st Platoon left Darmstadt screening the woods, roads, and trail N.E. of town. They took the towns of Langen, Sprendlingen, and stopped for awhile at Burgel. at 1800 they pushed off again with portions of the 359th Infantry riding the tanks and took the town of Oppenback. They encountered some machine gun and sniper fire. A total of 55 prisoners were taken by the Platoon during the day.

The balance of the (word missing) moved out from Darmstadt at 0700 with Rcn. and screened the wooded area, trails and roads, and worked towards the Main River. The night was spent at Jugesheim which was reached at 1600. While sitting in town in his peep, a German soldier came out of a house and walked up to Lt. Hiatt and gave himself up. He said he had been on a leave, had overstayed his leave by one day, and we came in very unexpectedly. He shook hands with his people, climbed on the truck, and everybody was happy. The 3rd Platoon took 3 more prisoners in that vicinity.

27 March 1945

The Company moved a few miles to Rembrucken and were later joined by the 1st Platoon. The day was spent in maintenance and resting.

28 March 1945

Most of the day was spent in maintenance and resting. Pfc. Parker accidentally shot himself in his left hand while cleaning his Tommie gun and was evacuated. Pfc. Muniz was evacuated for an eye irritation.

The Company moved from Rembrucken at 1915 and crossed the Main River at 2010. They arrived at Kesselstadt at 2115 and remained there for the balance of the night.

29 March 1945

All Platoons were alerted and moved from Kesselstadt at 0615. The 1st and 2nd Platoons were attached to Task Force Wagnon along with 1 platoon of Rcn. from the 773rd T.D.’s. [tank destroyers] They moved into several towns, cleared them of isolated enemy troops, and took in the arms and military equipment of the civilians. In the one town outposted by 2 tanks of the 1st Platoon, enemy troops were observed going across the crest of a distant hill. Fire was placed on them with the 37 mm. and two machine guns from the one tank. Lt. Hiatt, Tec. 5 Horn and Tucci [Lambert Hiatt was the company executive officer, while Art Horn and Caesar Tucci were company mechanics] went up after them in a peep and marched back 11 prisoners.

The Company minus the 3rd Platoon marched to Bonstadt. Tanks of the 1st Platoon stopped on the hill just N. of town and chased down 4 prisoners. The Headquarters section, led by the kitchen truck, spearheaded into town and cleared it by taking 28 more prisoners. The 2nd Platoon set up road blocks in the surrounding area and picked up 18 more prisoners. A total of 86 prisoners were captured in the town and surrounding area that evening and night.

The 3rd Platoon working with Task Force Kelley continued on similar missions of clearing towns and woods of enemy. During their operations for the day they captured well over 100 prisoners, and took a camouflaged air strip in woods containing 1 shot-up plane and 3 operative ME 190s.

30 March 1945

The 1st Platoon plus an I & R Platoon [Intelligence and Reconnaissance Platoon] joined forces at Stammheim at 0635. They took Staden with 1 prisoner, Ndr. Mockstadt with 30 prisoners, Mockstadt, Rimstadt, Nidde, Rudingsheim, to Schotten. 25 more P.W. were taken there.

The Hq. Platoon trains followed the 1st Platoon at 30 minute interval and captured 10 prisoners in the woods W. of Nidda, seriously wounded one and killed two at the bottom of a steep draw. They joined the 1st Platoon at Schotten where they rounded up 51 more prisoners including three high ranking officers.

The 2nd Platoon followed the 1st Platoon to Schotten and set up a road block on the E. end of town at 1300, taking 19 more prisoners.

The 3rd Platoon jumped off with task Force Kelley at Oberau at 0625 and proceeded to Lindheim, Olauberg, Stockenheim, Ortenberg to Lissberg. In this vicinity they encountered sniper and machine gun fire. Two tanks and 2 M-8s continued on and the 2nd M-8 was knocked out by bazooka fire. After the action was cleared in that area, the Force continued to Merkenfritz, Godern, Hartmansheins, and at 1410 returned to Company control.

The Company moved to Schotten and closed in at 1530.

31 March 1945

The 2nd Platoon was alerted at 0015 to set up a road block about 25 miles from Schotten. They returned to the Company area at 0700, and the Company, minus Hq. Section moved out at 0720 to investigate the towns and roads leading N.E. They found them to be all cleared and for the most part occupied by our troops. The 4th Armored Division moved through the sector during the day. A C.P. was set up at Ndr. Jossa after a 40 mile march. The trains joined the Company later in the day.

The Company was reverted back to Battalion control at 2200.

In summarizing the events of this period, the purpose of Task Force Kelley and Task Force Wagnon was to investigate and clear the trails, woods, roads, and towns of all enemy troops cut off by the advances of larger units that preceded the Task Forces, to report the towns occupied by our troops, and to make the use of these roads and towns safe for the trains and troops that might follow. These towns were to be placed under military law, and all military equipment such as small arms, ammunition, etc., to be confiscated from the civilian population. In some cases the Task Forces were the first U.S. troops to enter the towns. Many prisoners were taken, most of them taken with no resistance, just waiting in houses or streets for our troops to come by so they could surrender. They seemed glad that the war was over for them. On one occasion a German Captain stepped out on the road in front of the advancing task force and fired his luger at the oncoming vehicles. It was only after their leader was killed that the men gave up, stating that their officers made them fight at the point of a gun.

It is unclear whether this was the second time a German soldier tried to stop a tank with a pistol, or a recap of the instance a few entries before this section began in which an “SS Trooper” fired his pistol at a tank. I tend to go with the latter explanation. Either way, it’s difficult to feel sorry for this bloke because the soldiers under his command couldn’t surrender before he was killed because he would have shot them.

Next: Joe the Englishman

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P.S.: If you’re in Connecticut, this weekend (Aug. 29-30, 2026) I’ll be a vendor at the New England Air Museum’s inaugural World War 2 Weekend, which promises great exhibits and battle reenactments.

And the following week, Thursday through Sunday, Sept. 3-6, 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. I’ll be at the Naval Air Station Wildwood Museum AirFest in Cape May, New Jersey.

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When I put in for my vacation at the Bergen Record in 1995 and told my supervisor where I was going, she said, “Don’t go.”

The 90th Infantry Division Association newsletter had an item saying there would be a ceremony marking the 50th anniversary of the battle in the village of Pfaffenheck, Germany, a battle involving the Second Platoon of C Company of the 712th Tank Battalion, and a battle in which I was keenly interested.

The battle, on 16 March 1945, basically was between five Sherman tanks of the Second Platoon and elements of the 6th SS Mountain Division North who had decimated a company of infantry there the day before. Four members of the platoon, including 19-year-old Billy Wolfe and Jack Mantell, both of whom joined the battalion as replacements two weeks earlier, were killed, while, according to a letter written by Sergeant Byrl Rudd recalling the battle, 92 bodies of the Germans were counted after the fight. In 1992 I interviewed Billy’s sisters, identical twins Maxine Wolfe Zirkle and Madeline Wolfe Litten, who only a few years before had learned the circumstances of their brother’s death after being contacted by John Zimmer, a veteran of Billy’s company. Zimmer also tried unsuccessfully to get my father to attend a reunion but met with no success. I know he would have loved it if he went.

I’ve written about Billy Wolfe and Pfaffenheck in previous Substacks so I'll skip the details, but I thought gee, I’d love to go to this ceremony. There was an address for a liaison in Germany, so I wrote and asked if I could attend.

He wrote back and said I would be welcome, but he pointed out that the ceremony was not being put on but by the village, but by the Germans who fought there.

So when I told my supervisor, Kathleen Sullivan, where I was going on my vacation and why, she said, “Don’t go. You’ll only humanize them.”

In a way she was right. They had a veterans organization just like the 712th, and every year they gathered on the anniversary weekend of the battle in Pfaffenheck, where 98 of their members are buried in the village cemetery. I arrived a little early and two of the German veterans took me on a tour of the battlefield; one of them showed me the tree he was standing behind when he was wounded five times by hollow point bullets before being captured. In the village cemetery, many of the soldiers’ grave markers place their ages between 17 and 22, while several others are marked “unbekannte soldat,” or “unknown soldier.” I never told the twins, who have passed away in the last couple of years, but I met the German veteran who fired the anti-tank gun that killed their brother, and who in turn was wounded by a shot fired by Russell Loop — the D Company driver who transferred to C Company after the Battle of the Bulge and who, after his tank was knocked out, took a rifle, went to the second story of a building, and “picked those suckers off one by one.”

When the D Company log mentions SS soldiers after the company crossed the Moselle River in early March, these would have been from the 6th SS Mountain Division North.

26 February 1945

At 0930 the Company moved back to Heckhalenfeld, Germany in Corp Reserve, and arrived there at 1145. Maintenance was … [The rest of this entry is missing, as are the entries for February 27 and 28. They are also smissing from the battalion after action reports. The battalion reports pick up on March 1]

From the battalion after action reports:

Company “D”

On 1 March, the day was spent in performing maintenance on all vehicles. The Company remained in Heckhalenfeld, Germany.

On 2 March, Pfc. Watkins transferred from Service Company to the Company. No other changes. No change on 3 March.

The D Company log picks up from here:

4 March 1945

The Company was alerted and moved from Heckhalenfeld around 1300, through Waxweiler. It was raining, the roads were narrow and muddy, and travelling was slow. By 2400, the Company was still on the road.

5 March 1945

Around 0045 the Company was halted in the vicinity of Heisdorf, and spent the balance of the night in or in the close proximity of the vehicles awaiting orders for a further movement.

The 2nd and 3rd Platoons were attached to Task Force Kelley at 0130. An early move of the Task Force was planned, but a delay of the Infantry, who were to ride the tanks, delayed the movement to 0630.

The 2nd Platoon moved to Seiwerath where they contacted the Task Force. The Force moved in the woods around Seiwerath, flushed out 25 prisoners, and fired on several dug-in positions. They came across a road block still being erected by German soldiers. Lt. O’Brient fired on them with his turret-mounted .50 caliber machine gun and completely dispersed them. An assault gun and a T.D. gun fired on the road block and cleared it.

The Force moved into Neustrassburg and was met by small arms fire. The tanks moved in firing and a flat trajectory weapon, believed to be a tank, fired on them. A combination of fire from the tanks and the T.D.’s chased the enemy weapon out. The force was then subjected to an artillery and mortar barrage. The direction of firing was noticed and our own artillery was directed on the estimated positions, resulting in the silencing of the enemy guns. The town was then taken along with 15 prisoners. On the other side of town another road block was encountered which was 200 yards long, and consisted of fallen trees with unused shells dispersed between them. It was impossible to break through the block at that time or pass by it, so they returned to Neustrassburg and outposted it. At 2000 they were called to secure crossroads in nearby woods so the Infantry could move through.

The 3rd Platoon moved to the vicinity of Niederhersdorf at 0630, and encountered direct fire from a mobile gun firing from the ridge. The Force had to keep moving in order to keep from being hit. The 3rd Platoon supported the attached Rcn. in the assault of Niederhersdorf, and it was captured along with 19 prisoners. About 4 miles on the other side of town they encountered a road block with a 150 mm. gun in the middle of the block. The T.D.’s fired into it and destroyed the gun and wrecked the block. The tanks by-passed the road block and ran into machine gun fire. Upon firing in the direction of the enemy fire, 2 Germans came out of the woods and gave up. In rounding a curve in the woods they discovered an S.P. (self-propelled) gun in position. The T.D.’s fired 2 shots at the position and got 3 shots in return. They made attempts to outflank the gun and destroy it, but every attempt failed because of the bad terrain and coverage by the enemy gun. They detoured around by Seiwerath and were again held up by 2 Mark V tanks concealed in the woods. The Group could not get in a suitable condition to fire on the enemy tanks, so they remained in the woods for the night and had artillery barrages laid on the enemy tanks during the night. By morning they had withdrawn.

The balance of the Company moved with Bn. to Schonecken and set up a C.P. there.

6 March 1945

The 2nd Platoon returned to Seiwerath at 0100 after the Infantry had cleared the cross-roads they were securing. At 0700 the Engineers still had not cleared the 200 yard road-block that held them up, so the Force secured the cross-roads on the high ground in Foret Gerolstein, and held that until the Infantry passed. It was impossible for further advances . . .

(here another page is missing from the D Company log, but the battalion after action report contains the rest of the entry as well as that for March 7)

From the battalion after action reports:

… for the tank because of the road blocks and impassable bomb craters in the road. They were relieved of their mission around 1100, and rejoined the Company convoy at Wallersheim where they got replenishments in fuel and ammunition.

The 3rd Platoon portion of Task Force Kelley moved out towards the objective Murlenbach. At the crossroads that had been covered by the 2 Mark V tanks the night before, was a very large crater blown in the road by the enemy in an attempt to forestall the advance of the Group. It was so placed that all the roads constituting the cross-roads were just about cut off by the crater, but there was a rim just big enough so our vehicles could get around the crater and continue on the designated route. The Group continued on the road until they encountered a double road block that was impassable. Due to existing condition the Force was relieved of their mission to take Murlenbach, and returned to Niederhersdorf, where they received a new mission to clear the way to the Kyll River for the advance of the 11th Armored Division. The Platoon joined the Company at Wallersheim to refuel and renew their ammunition before fulfilling their assignment. The new Task Force, consisting of a portion of Reconnaissance Troop from the 773rd T.D. Battalion, and the 3rd Platoon moved into Gudescheim and to the hills in the vicinity of Hinterhausen. Here they relieved the 11th Armored Division Reconnaissance. The Task Force took the town of Hinterhausen and two 150 mm. guns intact. The Task Force moved into Lissingen to reinforce the Infantry who had gone into the town by mistake and held about 1/3 of it. The Task force took the balance of the town around 2400.

The Company moved from the area at Schoenecken at 1200 into an assembly area at Piersdorf, and replenished the supplies of gas and ammunition in the 2nd Platoon. The combined forces went on to Wallersheim and joined the 3rd Platoon at 1630. They were also supplied with fuel and ammunition before they moved on to their new mission. The Company C.P. was set up at Wallersheim.

On 7 March, the 3rd Platoon made a reconnaissance of the Kyll River crossing at Lissingen and found all bridges to be blown. They returned to Lissingen and relieved the holding Infantry. This left 37 men to hold the town. Twenty-five prisoners were picked up during this time. They held the town until 1030 when the 359 Infantry Regiment moved in and relieved them, while Reconnaissance and the 3rd Platoon took Gerolstein. The tanks held and gave fire support, one platoon of Reconnaissance dismounted and cleaned up the town while supported from the other platoon of Reconnaissance. After the town had fallen, the Group reassembled and returned to Lissingen while the 11th Armored Division rolled by. The Company moved to Lissingen at 1500 and rejoined the 3rd Platoon.

Now back to the D Company log:

8 March 1945

The Company remained in Lissingen on a short notice alert while the 11th Arm’d Div. rolled by.

9 March 1945

The 1st Platoon was alerted and moved out from the Company area at 0700. Their mission was to set up road securities at Tammelshofen and Herresbach.

The Company left Lissingen at 0700 and moved to Dreis. The kitchen truck and crew were left behind to join the Bn. trains which came later.

10 March 1945

The 1st Platoon continued on its mission to take towns and clean up isolated groups of enemy and enemy equipment by-passed and left behind by the 11th Arm’d Div. as they pushed by. They were assigned a sector leading up to the Moselle River.

The 2nd Platoon was alerted and moved out at 0500. They joined the I. & R. Platoon of the 90th Inf. Div. at Kolberg, and moved on through Wanderath, where they took 10 prisoners. At Engeln another prisoner was taken. The town of Siebenbach was taken and 58 prisoners captured, along with 5 trucks, 1 half-track, and 1 medical trailer. From Virneburg the Force proceeded to Obr. Welschenbach where a stretch of bad trail was met. A tank slipped on the slippery and sloping surface, threw a track, and mired down. All efforts to recover the tank were in vain, and at present it must be considered as battle lost. The Platoon rejoined the Company at Herresbach.

The 3rd Platoon was alerted and moved out at 0645 from Dreis to Boxscheid, where they contacted Col. Bell of the 359th Inf. Reg. for further orders. The Platoon was split in three sections, each section working with a Company of Infantry with mopping up as the chief mission. The 1st group, under command of Lt. Albee moved at 0830 to Hunnerbach, took Reimerath and 1 truck, assaulted Welcherath and took it along with 20 prisoners, 2 staff cars, 1 truck, and 1 motorcycle. They assisted in taking the town of Kirsbach, and took Drees with 16 prisoners, 5 40 mm. ack-ack guns, 2 staff cars, 1 motorcycle, 1 coupe, and 1 half-track. They returned to Welcherath, cleaned out the surrounding woods, and took the small town of Krebelscherhof along with 4 prisoners. They returned to Welcherath, moved on a different route through the woods and released after the reconnaissance was completed. They joined the Company at 1530.

The other two sections operated in the same manner, taking a few towns and gathering up the weapons held by the civilians in the towns. One 150 mm. gun was captured intact and 18 P.W.’s.

The Headquarters section moved from the area at Dreis to Herresbach, with Bn. During the day, while Captain Wagnon was in the vicinity of the 1st Platoon at Jammelshofen, a German soldier walked up and gave up to him. Later in the day, while Tec. 4 Freeberg, T/5 Mills and Horn were out to refuel and perform maintenance for the 2nd Platoon, they followed the wrong directions and passed through towns that had apparently not been captured as yet. During their trip they captured 3 prisoners.

Once again, some entries are missing from the D Company log, but the missing content still appears in the battalion reports.

From the battalion after action reports:

On 11 March, the 1st Platoon continued on its mission to clear their sector of enemy resistance. Tank 12 was withdrawn to the company area at Herresbach for maintenance on a blown bogie wheel. The balance of the 1st section of the platoon outposted Riedon for the night, while the 2d Section outposted Kirchesch. The balance of the Company remained in Herresbach for the night. Tank 31 had a .50 cal. Machine Gun mounted on top of the turret. T/4 Chicklon and T/5 Williamson reported back from the hospital to duty.

On 12 March, the 1st Platoon assembled in Ruber and outposted it. The balance of the Company remained at Herresbach and performed maintenance on their vehicles.

On 13 March, the 1st section of the 1st Platoon took Lohmen and outposted it while the 2nd section took and outposted Moselsurch. The balance of the Company was alerted at 0930 and moved from Herresbach at 1145 to Naunheim, where work was started on changing the track blocks. Sgt. Ziebarth was evacuated for yellow jaundice.

On 14 March, the 1st Platoon continued to outpost Lehman and Moselsurch, while the balance of the company remained at Naunheim and continued work on changing the track blocks. Tank 12 rejoined the 1st Platoon at Hehmen.

On 15 March, the 1st section of the 1st Platoon took Kettenes and outposted it for the night. The 2nd section remained at Moselsurch. The balance of the Company remained at Naunheim.

The D Company log picks up from here:

16 March 1945

The 1st Platoon moved across the Mosel River and joined the Company in an assembly area at Ehr, where they were assigned to Task Force Spiess. The 1st section, while trying to go around a road block encountered the enemy in woods about 2 miles N.E. of Ehr, and flushed them out. They aided the Infantry in attacking Boppard. A Major was badly wounded and subjected to intense small arms and artillery fire. Sgt. Cudio dismounted from his tank and helped the Major to safety in the midst of heavy fire. During the assault one T.D. was lost by mines and one by an AT gun. The 1st section outposted the road about 2 miles N.E. of Ehr, while the second section outposted Weiler.

The balance of the Company was alerted and moved from Naunheim at 0730, crossed the Mosel River at Hatzenport, and arrived at an assembly area at Ehr around 1215.

The 2nd Platoon was alerted from Ehr and joined Task Force Kelley. They moved through woods and took Fledkershohed and two two trucks. Ndr. Hirzenach was taken next and here an S.S. Trooper attempted to stop a tank by shooting at it with a pistol. They proceeded on to the banks of the Rhine River in the vicinity of Holzfeld. An enemy ammunition truck approaching from the North was knocked out and 1 prisoner taken. In the town a motorcycle and truck were knocked out, 3 Captains and 1 Naval Officer surrendered, and 39 more prisoners were taken. The position held by the Platoon was on high ground overlooking the Rhine River with full observation on both sides to the vicinity of Kestert. Five Red Cross trucks were observed passing on the other side of the River, but they weren’t fired upon because of their markings. At night 2 more Red Cross trucks approached and were halted. 32 prisoners were taken. The trucks were loaded with ammunition and had 2 of our cal. .50 machine guns in them. The trucks were set on fire. Later on a Captain walked up and surrendered.

(In the battle at Pfaffenheck, Byrl Rudd noted in a letter to the battalion newsletter that the SS soldiers “all had American guns.” I learned during my visit to Pfaffenheck that their outfit had captured a substantial number of prisoners during Operation Nordwind, where they fought prior to heading north.)

The 3rd Platoon joined Task Force Kelley at 1245. The assigned platoon of Rcn. from the 773rd T.D. Bn., 2 T.D.’s and 1 pioneer peep had the mission of going to the Rhine River to Verlan and cut the main road on both sides of the River. They moved out and took Karbach, Holzfeld, and at Verlan captured 5 prisoners. They had the civilians turn in all weapons and military equipment. The 2nd section stayed at Verlau and outposted it, while the 1st section moved back to Holzfeld and outposted the high ground overlooking the Rhine River.

17 March 1945

During the early morning the 1st section of the 3rd Platoon destroyed 3 enemy trucks and one car moving along the road on the far side of the Rhine River. At dawn the tanks of the section withdrew from the forward position and were concealed in the brush. A .50 and .30 caliber machine gun were mounted on high ground overlooking the main road on both sides of the Rhine, and a sniper position was set up with an M-1 rifle. At 1000 Lt. Albee and Tec. 4 Borden, Pfc. Galbraith and Hallak went down to reconnoiter Prinzstein, and while in town observed enemy soldiers setting up a road block across the River about 2,000 yards away. Fire was brought on them with the M-1 rifle and the group dispersed. Later a force of about 40 enemy soldiers was observed working their way to a high point overlooking the sector held by the (blank) Platoon. (It is possible Dale Albee applied a little White-Out here because he stated earlier that the log attributed the destruction of the German mortar platoon to the Second Platoon, when it was his Third Platoon that should have been credited.) They were preparing to set up a mortar position. The distance was too great for the tank guns so artillery was called for. The 1st round of artillery blew their two scouts out of their observation point. The ensuing barrage completely dispersed the group. The 2nd Cavalry relieved the 3rd Platoon which then joined the Company at Ehr.

The 1st section of the 1st Platoon held the high ground around Boppard while the 2nd section outposted Salzig. The Platoon was relieved and returned to the Company.

The 2nd Platoon continued to outpost its position. Tec. 4 Schifler stopped 2 suspicious looking civilians, and upon further investigation found them to be wearing German uniforms under their civilian clothing. One was a Master Sgt., and the other a Cpl. At night the Platoon was relieved and returned to the Company area at Ehr.

At 2100 the Company moved from Ehr to Liebshausen.

18 March 1945

At 0600 the three Platoons moved out on missions. The 1st Platoon assaulted Perscheid with 2 platoons of Rcn. and took it. The next town that fell was Dellhofen. They spent the night outposting Langscheid and Henschhausen. The 2nd Platoon moved through Ehrbach, through the woods to Breitscheid and over hilly and bad terrain to Steg. The 1st Platoon was contacted at Henschhausen and they aided in outposting the area. The 3rd Platoon rejoined T.F. Kelley with a platoon of Rcn, and moved through Rheinbollen. A detour had to be made around Ehrbach because of a big crater in the road. The 1st section moved down the main road and took Bacharach. The town was outposted for the night and several shots were fired at the enemy across the River. The 2nd section took Neurath and outposted it for the night. The 1st Platoon took 17 prisoners.

The Company remained at Liebshausen.

19 March 1945

The 1st Platoon outposted its area for the day and returned to the Company area that evening at Liebshausen.

The 2nd Platoon was relieved of its positions and returned to the Company area.

The 3rd Platoon remained in position until 1400 and was then relieved by the 2nd Cavalry. They returned to the Company area. At 1645 the Platoon moved to Partenheim ahead of the Company and later joined it again. Tank 32 was sent back to Ordnance with Cpl. Benda and Pfc. Mallak.

The Company made a 40 mile march to St. Johann.

20 March 1945

The 3 Platoons left St. Johann at 0500 to join T.F. Spiess. The 1st Platoon moved with the Task Force to Worsheim, Partenheim, Ugenheim, Ober Saulheim, Ndr. Saulheim, up to the general direction of Ndr. Olm. As they approached Ndr. Olm they shot at trucks going over the hill. Tank obstacles were encountered here. The T.D.s. and assault guns were called on to fire on the town, they flushed out and destroyed trucks leaving the town. Our air corps bombed and strafed the town - leaving many vehicles in flames. Two tanks of the 1st section, the platoon of Rcn, and 1 T.D. went in to flank the town from the North and ran into the enemy on the crest of the hill. 12 machine gun nests were knocked out and 3 prisoners taken. A white flag was raised in a portion of town ahd the Force thought the town was cleared. The Force moved up led by 2 T.D.s and got to the crest of the hill. The two T.D.s were immediately knocked out by duo-purpose 88’s well concealed. Sgts. Logan and Cudio went in under fire to administer first aid to the wounded men and help them to a point of cover. The Force withdrew from the crest of the hill and called for Infantry and Artillery help. The Platoon split up, one section staying in Kongerheim for the night, the other section in Selzen.

The number of prisoners taken by the task Force accompanying the 1st Platoon during the period covered in this report was approximately 500.

The 2nd Platoon moved through Wonsheim to Vendersheim and joined the Task Force. They went to Worrstadt, to Schornsheim, and in line formation to Underheim, where the people cleared the road block for them. Artillery fell just beyond town, the artillery observer picked up the position and directed our own fire and silenced the guns. At Kongerheim they encountered another road block and 3 bazookas just missed the tanks. The T.D.s fired on the block and cleared it. 5 prisoners were taken. They then moved to Selzen and on to Mommenheim, where they stayed for the night.

The 3rd Platoon moved to Obr. Hilbersheim, joined Kelley’s Task Force, took Ndr. Hilbersheim, Engestadt, Bubenheim, Schwabenheim - 20 prisoners and shot up a motorcycle, Elsheim where they were stopped by the civilians and informed that the road block there was mined. They detoured around the town, took it and proceeded on to Essenheim where they took 17 prisoners. The advance was stopped because the road was heavily mined for the next mile. Some dug in positions were encountered near a crossroad and they were fired upon. 13 prisoners were captured and they were used to clear the road of mines. The Platoon moved on the within 4 1/2 kilometers of their objective - Mainz, and met heavy direct fire. They moved back to the crossroads and set up defensive positions until reinforcements came. Two more prisoners were taken there. The roads were outposted until 1700 when another mission was given them to take Ober Olm and El. Winterscheim. They rejoined the Company at Ndr. Saulheim for gas, ammunition and water.

The Company C.P. moved from St. Johann at 1015 to Ndr. Saulheim. While lining up on the road ready to move out a group of enemy planes came over and were fired upon. A stray 20 mm. shell hit the half track, & seared the right track nearly off. Several bombs were dropped in the distance.

A couple of Substacks ago I got a little ahead of myself and quoted Dale Albee about events described in this episode, so I’m going to repeat a bit from the interview, along with an additional story where Dale mixed up the events described here with something a bit later. Considering the travelogue from hell that these tanks compiled as they went through one town after another, sometimes several towns in a day, it’s impressive that they have any chronological memory of a timeline at all.

Dale Albee: I got on Shortall’s tank and rode on the outside, and we moved back. And then, since I only had two tanks, they sent the captain’s tank up for the third, and then that’s the next day where the second platoon moved around with infantry and we went ahead and came in this way, went down the slope and came in, and took the town. That’s the time Ziebarth, an old German, bang, at him, shot and Ziebarth emptied a whole clip, 250 rounds, into that foxhole and the little German stood up and smiled. Ziebarth says “Oh, shit,” and comes back. You know, I think somewhere I read we said he was about 70 yards away, that’s a bunch of bull because that little guy wasn’t any farther than from here to that bush and he just stood up, “Bang!” Zeke was just getting ready to crawl out of the darn tank, because we’d come in this way and he’d come in this way, and he just reached over to his ack-ack gun and d-d-d-d-d-d-d-du, and he just figured that’s guy’s just dead as hell, then all over a sudden, “Kamerad!”

That’s when Zeke and I went up there and dropped a...No, it was Rotarota we did that.

Aaron Elson: What was Rotarota?

Dale Albee: That was up on the Rhine, when we had to go down this long column and go into Rotarota. That’s where we found that big cellar of what we called pink champagne; it was actually sparkling burgundy, but they had every kind of wine, gin, rum, everything, and, now that Alton Wagnon’s dead, why, it’s safe to say that we came out of there with two cases on the back deck of each tank, and all we could hold inside. See, he put out an order, when we were held up in Hof for a while, we got, right next to where we were trapped was a warehouse full of liquor, and when we got out of that we let the old man know, and they sent a two and a half ton down there and loaded it up with liquor and we figured that whenever we came in that we’d be able to have a big party. Well, the only time we ever got in and started to turn tracks and everything, we asked, well, how about some of that liquor that we let you get? They had drunk it all. We didn’t get one damn drop. And then the old man put out orders that all liquor would be sent to the rear, that you would not carry liquor in the tanks. And good old Boogedy, the old man came up one day and asked, we was in a village and Mike and I were studying the map, and the old man asked how things are going, fine, and he says, “Can I use your radio?”

“Sure, you bet.”

He stepped up on the tank and goddamn, he looked down and there’s Boogedy just taking a drink out of a bottle and looking right at him. And he goes up and reaches over to get my radio and looks down and right in the ready rack down there, there’s a whole damn bunch of bottles of liquor, there was, oh hell, there was no champagne at that time but it was regular rum and regular liquor. He came back up to me and he says, “I thought I put out an order about there’d be no more liquor in these vehicles.”

So, “Captain,” I says, “This is true.” I says, “This is right.”

He says, “What’s all that liquor doing in that tank?”

I says, “Captain, we just came through that town and that’s what we liberated.” I says, “I had no chance to get it back.”

I says, “It’s there. Now that you’re here, why, you can take it back, but” I said “we wasn’t gonna leave that there.” I says, “On your order, we understood the order was, we weren’t to keep liquor in our tanks.” I said, “But we just captured that.”

“What was Boogedy doing drinking it?”

“I didn’t know.” I said, “He must have opened one. I’ll get ahold of him, Captain, I’ll tell you, I’ll take care of that.”

I said, “Boogedy, you silly shit. You knew the old man was up here, why in the hell’d you take a drink?”

“Well, dammit, I wanted one.”

That was Boogedy.

To be continued

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By this point in time, I’m afraid I’ve lost track of how many episodes of “The Best ‘Little’ Tank Company in the E.T.O.’ I’ve posted. Is it eleven? Ten? Is this Number 12?Should I skip 13 and go straight to 14 like the elevator in the building I grew up in? Did the excerpt I posted from my interview with Andy Schifler count as a chapter even though I didn’t include it in the list of Substacks? So I’m not going to keep listing the chapters at the end of each post; you can find them on my home page although even that might be difficult to navigate. If you’re new to the project, I try to make each episode readable on a standalone basis, although some of the finer points might be lost. If you’ve been following along, and many of you have, thank you for your interest!

Also by the point of time in this episode, beginning on 23 February 1945, the 712th Tank Battalion, of which D Company’s “light” Stuart tanks were a part, was about eight months into its 11 months of almost daily combat. Surprisingly, the leadership of D Company was pretty much intact, having lost only one of its three lieutenants, Harry Coe, who was injured in a mine field while helping to evacuate a member of the 90th Infantry Division who stepped on a mine. Coe was replaced by Sergeant, Dale Albee, without whose input I would never have been able to put this story together.

Meanwhile, in those eight months of combat, the leadership of the three line companies was taking a pounding, which I addressed in an earlier chapter.

There are three members of the battalion who played important roles in D Company whom I know very little about. Eugene Godfrey, the First Platoon leader, is one. Leon Ziebarth, who was the platoon sergeant of the Second Platoon, is another. And Alton Wagnon, the company commander, is another. Four if you include Raymond Thompson, who is listed in the C Company roster but likely started out in D Company. And then there was the anonymous company clerk, who might have been any or none of the above.

“Who was responsible for those excellent records that D Company kept?” I asked Lieutenant O’Brient.

“You know, I would attribute a lot of that to Gene Godfrey,” O’Brient said. “Gene was a very precise person. I don’t think it was so much Thompson. Thompson was the first sergeant. He was very good at paperwork and administrative affairs, but Gene was executive officer, and I think he had a lot to do with that. And I’m trying to think of the clerk. Do you recall who the clerk was?”

“No,” I said.

“I’ve got his name somewhere. But anyway, he was an excellent person, too. Let’s see, I made a few quick notes. This was my crew here, Andy Schifler, Midlar, Miller was my gunner, myself, and Ziebarth was in the other tank. By the way, do you recall anybody by the name of Doug from Oklahoma, he was in one of my tanks and I cannot think of his last name. But he and Muniz, I remember Muniz was the bow gunner, Doug was the tank commander, and I can’t remember his name.”

“See, you’re the only original lieutenant from D Company that I’ve gotten to interview. I never met Coe or Godfrey.”

“You never met Harry Coe?”

“No.”

“Coe had a very unfortunate thing. Coe was a very brave person in my estimation. You know what happened to him? What he did, he walked into a mine field. The infantryman was wounded; he’d already stepped on one of the land mines, so Harry Coe walked right straight in there to get him, and I wasn’t too far away from that either. We were just trying to figure out how to get through some mine fields, so when I came up; I know I hadn’t been too far away from him, and I said, ‘Harry, for god sakes,’ and just about the time he got the guy and picked him up and turned around to walk out, he stepped on one. [according to Dale Albee, it was another infantryman who stepped on a mine, with the explosion injuring Coe in the hand.] So that was terrible, too. But that’s how Harry Coe got hurt, got wounded. And let’s see, Gene Godfrey had the first platoon, Harry had the third. I think you were asking me how he got wounded.”

Whoever wrote the D Company log, whether it was the company commander, the executive officer, a platoon leader or the company clerk, deserves a medal, in my estimation. I only hope I am honoring him with what little input I’ve been able to add through a handful of interviews many years after the war.

And as an old cavalry saying goes, hold onto your horses for these next few entries. Just a note: When the entry refers to a section of a platoon, at full strength a platoon would have five tanks, three in the first section and two in the second. By this point in the war, the platoons were usually down one or two tanks, so it’s likely there may have been two tanks in each section.

From the Company log;

23 February 1945

At 0500, the 1st and 3rd Platoons, plus the attached Rcn. received orders to roll at 0600, at which time they went forward and joined 2 T.D.’s (tank destroyers) of the 773rd T.D. Bn. This force started for objective “E”, which was high ground, and took it with 2 P.W.’s and a pill box. At 1100 Heilbach was assaulted by the forces and attachments. On the outskirts of the town they fanned out, fired into it, and captured it. The force then moved on to the next town of Alfurhof, and the 1st Platoon held and covered the advance of the 3rd Platoon while it captured the town and high ground around it. Contact was again made between the two Platoons and both forces were joined in the assault of Plascheid. The ground around Plascheid was reconnoitered and plans made for the assault. The 3rd Platoon plus the 2nd section of the 1st Platoon would move in and take the ground while the 1st section of the 1st Platoon would cover the advance from the rear, and the T.D.’s cover it from the high ground. The attack was started and the assault force went in firing in line formation. The town was entered and captured without loss. During the operation, the 3rd Platoon captured 2-155 mm towed guns intact, 7 ammunition carts, 1 motorcycle, 28 P.W.’s, and a bazooka team of 8 men was flushed out and captured. The 1st Platoon took 1-155 mm towed gun and 15 prisoners. In the taking of this town, the force was without infantry support, so one man from each tank dismounted and acted as Infantry in clearing the houses. The T.D.’s, being located on high ground, knocked out a Mark IV tank that had direct fire on the tanks. About 20 minutes after the taking of the town direct fire was placed on the town by a battery of enemy artillery pieces. The T.D.’s moved into position and silenced the battery with several well placed shots. The town of Plascheid was outposted by the 3rd Platoon, while the 1st Platoon outposted Heilbach for the night.

The 2nd Platoon moved to Arzfeld and awaited further orders. Plans were made to take the towns of Emmelbaum and Ammeldingen with the platoon of tanks, a platoon of Rcn., and 2 T.D.’s. The town of Emmelbaum was taken with no resistance, and 6 prisoners were taken. The T.D.’s remained on the high ground around Emmelbaum and shelled Ammeldingen while the rest of the force moved in with guns blazing. Sgt. Morrison was in the lead and came to a curve where he saw some gun that appeared to be an anti-tank gun. He fired on it, backed up, moved up and fired on it several times more. Sgt. Ziebarth dismounted from his tank, crept up on foot on the flank of the position while covered from the rear by Sgt. Morrison, and threw a hand grenade into it. When the smoke cleared they discovered it to be a 120 mm mortar. While trying to by-pass the knocked out mortar position which extended half way across the road, Sgt. Morrison threw a track on his tank. In trying to by-pass the disabled tank, Sgt. Ziebarth’s tank mired down in a draw and had to be towed out by another tank. A bit further up the narrow road Lt. O’Brient’s tank threw a track at a place where it was practically impossible to by-pass. Tec-4 Schifler, driver of the tank, realized his tank prevented the advance of the rest of the column, and decided to run the tank over a gulley in order to clear the way. By skillful maneuvering, Tec-4 Schifler managed to keep the tank upright, got the track back on, and made the precarious descent without injuring himself or the tank. The forces were then split, two tanks brought up the left flank, while the other two tanks moved in on a frontal attack, and the town fell to their hands. A half track, a coupe, and 18 prisoners were taken. The group went to Holnich, contacted Captain Kelley of Task Force Spees [this would be Task Force Spiess], and got three more missions assigned to them. Sgt. Ziebarth, in command of one section of tanks, with attachments consisting of 1 platoon of Rcn, and 4 T.D.’s, assaulted and took Uppershausen. Lt. O’Brient’s section, with 1/2 of a platoon of Rcn. plus 2 T.D.’s were to assault and take Heimischseifen and Berkath. They cut the main road leading into Krautscheid, and at a cross-road shot up a small column containing 3-105 mm. towed guns. In going up a hill, the leading M-8 Rcn. car spotted a motorcycle and fired into it. Contained on the motorcycle were complete plans of the enemies’ withdrawal across the Prum River. It was later learned that our P-47’s took good advantage of these plans the next day. In the actual assault on the town, the section of tanks made a right hook into town while the Rcn. and T.D.’s moved in from the front. The town was cleared at dusk and 33 prisoners were taken. The high ground was outposted.

Lt. O’Brient’s force started for Heinischseifen, and about 800 yards from Krautscheid, some resistance was noticed and fire was placed on several buildings. A white flag appeared and 12 prisoners were taken, most of them being first aid men. The rest of the buildings were searched and the force again moved on. At the edge of Heinischseifen they fanned out in a line formation and fired on the town. It was now dark and the visibility was very poor. A house was set on fire and the visibility was greatly improved. The town was searched and three prisoners were taken. The T.D.’s pulled into town and covered the advance of the rest of the force in their assault on Berkath 1500 yards away. Another building was set on fire in this town to improve visibility, and the town was taken without any trouble. They were setting up their defenses for the night when a German half-track towing a 155 mm. gun pulled into town. Pfc. Charles Miller fired at them with a tommie gun and caused them to abandon the vehicle. The gun and half-track were captured intact and later used as a road block. The 5 prisoners were also taken.

The Company moved the C.P. to Neurath so communications could be maintained with the line platoons. During the operations of these platoons they had run very low in fuel, ammunition, water, and rations. Much credit must be given to Lt. Hiatt, who took out these replenishments under very adverse conditions. All vehicles of all platoons were contacted by him and refueled. [Earlier, Lt. O’Brient said Eugene Godfrey was the company executive officer; I think Lt. Lambert Hiatt was the executive officer, as Godfrey was the 1st Platoon leader.]

24 February 1945

At 1100 the 1st Platoon pulled out with a Rcn. Platoon and a platoon of T.D.’s, and outposted roads while the 358tth Inf. Regt. took Philippsweiler.

The 2nd Platoon continued to outpost their towns.

The 3rd Platoon received orders to move to Ammeldingen to await further orders. At 1700 they were relieved from Task Force Spees and reverted to Company control. They joined the Company at Krautscheid at 1800. The Company had set up the C.P. at Krautscheid in the morning.In the total operations from the 19th to the 24 February, 1945, the 3rd Platoon had taken:

P.W.’s: 132

Pill boxes: 3

Cars: 3

155 mm. towed guns: 2

Ammunition cards: 7

Motorcycles: 1

M. Gun nests: 7

25 February 1945

The 1st Platoon continued to outpost the positions around the roads. During this day enemy tanks were reported moving in their vicinity and Lt. Godfrey had artillery fire laid in on them. The Platoon was relieved at 2000 by the 6th Cavalry Regt., and was reverted back to Company control at Krautscheid. During the total operations of this period the 1st Platoon accounted for:

P.W.’s: 65

Pill Box: 1

155 mm. guns: 2

Ammunition carts: 9

Trucks: 2

The 2nd Platoon continued to outpost their towns. At daybreak, while on guard at Uppershausen, Sgt. Ziebarth observed a friendly task force assembling on the high ground and getting organized to pull out. As they came down the narrow road leading into town, Sgt. Ziebarth didn’t like the looks of things and started walking towards them in an attempt to determine their actions. He finally contacted them, found them to be a force of the 26th Cavalry Regt, with a mission to take the towns of Uppershausen and Berkath by storm. The task force consisted of 1 company of light tanks, 1 company of M-24 T.D.’s, several 75 mm. assault guns, and 2 platoons of Rcn. If it had not been for the timely action of Sgt. Ziebarth in contacting them, our entire force might have been accidently wiped out. The Platoon was relieved and returned to the Company around 1200. During their period of operation they reported taking the following:

P.W.’s: 115

75 mm. A.T. (anti-tank) Gun: 1

155 mm. tow Gun: 1

120 mm. mortar: 1

Half-tracks: 2

Coupe: 1

Motorcycle: 1

During most of the operations the Platoons were operating without Infantry support, and whenever necessary, one man from each tank dismounted and acted as such. Much credit must go to Capt. Wagnon for his untiring efforts in keeping up communications with the platoons at all times, and getting them their requirements for further operations. He also kept in contact with the artillery, and whenever the Platoons needed artillery support for more successful operations he contacted them and acted as an intermediate communicator.

The 3rd Platoon cleaned all their weapons and performed maintenance on their vehicles in the Company area at Krautscheid.

(to be continued)

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“Now, what exactly happened in Binscheid?”

“All right!” Dale Albee said, as the very word Binscheid had just conjured up a critical moment of his 11 months in combat.

“This was in February?”

“I think so.”

“After the Bulge.”

“Yeah, it was after the Bulge. We had been sent out, and I was working with Mike. [Mike, whose last name Dale couldn’t remember, was the lieutenant leading the Third Platoon of the 90th Infantry Division Reconnaissance]. I may be wrong, but I think the 4th Armored was going down the main road, and we was going off to the side to clear villages like we normally do, keep everything clear on the flank. And we came up to this little hill, and stopped. Old Mike motioned to me to come forward, so I dismounted and went up, and we looked out here. Now, say like Mittelscheid was over here, the town. The road came down around this way and come into the town. And in this field out here there’s a creek, right here, down below this little bluff. In this field out here is Germans all over the place, with their holes dug and everything, just walking around. They didn’t even know we were there.

“So we figured, well shoot, this is like most of the other towns, they’ve got them out to protect the town. We called back for infantry, and waited for about an hour and a half, and they sent the infantry up. They sent 15 green infantry. Handlebar Hank, I’ll never know his name and I wish I knew it because bless his soul, but old Handlebar Hank, the sergeant, was the only oldtimer. He had a big handlebar mustache and his name was Hank, that’s the reason we just called him Handlebar Hank. So Mike said, well, again, with all those down there and everything like that, he says, ‘If I send jeeps or anything, anything can knock them out.’ He says, ‘How about if you can lead out and go down the road, I’ll fire for support here and then I’ll get the support down to you right away, and then we’ll fan out and go on into the town.’

“Okay, fine. So we got all set, and I took off in my tanks and went over the hill and we opened up on these guys here and the infantry was supposed, we gave them time to get around and get in position over here, and with this ravine over here, so they could sweep around this way and then protect me as I came over the hill.” . . .

From the D Company log:

20 February 1945

Radio sets 300-A were installed in tanks 11, 14 and the C.0. tank. Operating instructions were given to the bow gunners of those tanks.

The 2nd Platoon held the high ground N.W. of Benscheid [this should be Binscheid] for the purpose of giving fire support to the troops entering the town from the East.

The 3rd Platoon advanced to the crossroads N. of Benscheid and met stiff opposition and road blocks. Two enemy machine gun positions were knocked out, several Germans killed, and two prisoners taken. At a point several hundred yards from Benscheid heavy enemy automatic fire was encountered. The Infantry being unable to advance, Lt. Albee’s tank pushed through them in an attempt to knock out the automatic weapons. At a point 300 yards N.E. of the town his tank was disabled by mines. He called for his next tank to come up alongside of him. Doing so this tank hit mines in the same tracks the 1st tank had taken. The driver, Tec. 5 Slick was killed, Pfc. Vydra and Pvt. Whitfield suffered broken legs and other leg injuries, and S/Sgt. Murphy was injured around the face. The two tanks were road-blocked to such an extent that the remaining tanks could not maneuver around them or bring effective fire on the enemy guns. At this time the Infantry was subjected to artillery fire and withdrew about 600-700 yards. The tankers evacuated their wounded assisted by their two P.W.’s, and helped in the evacuation of the Infantry wounded. The tanks withdrew on order. Tank 34 was taken out to replace the Platoon Leader’s tank. The Platoon as of 2400 consisted of 3 tanks. During this period efforts were being made to send combat patrols into the town, and for the Engineers to clear the mine fields. While the two tanks were left somewhat in No-Man’s Land, the Infantry C.O. advised not further destroying the tanks then inasmuch as he expected to push back past them.

21 February 1945

The 2nd Platoon plus the platoon of Recon and the Infantry continued to hold the high ground around Binscheid. Plans were made to assault the town. At 1200 the 3rd Platoon moved to an O.P. (observation post) and picked firing positions. An artillery barrage opened up on the town followed by harassing fire from the 3rd Platoon while the Infantry moved into town on the right flank. A machine gun nest was knocked out and fire was brought on several dug-in positions. On word that the town was cleared, the three tanks of the 3rd Platoon moved in cross-country to within 50 yards of town when bazooka, machine gun, and small arms fire was encountered. Four bazookas just missed Lt. Albee’s tank. They backed up firing, set several houses on fire, and drove out and captured 35 P.W.’s. They stayed in position firing, contacted the 2nd section of the 2nd Platoon by radio, and together they fired on the targets and moved into town firing. Sgt. Ziebarth of the 2nd Platoon jumped out of his tank to take 2 prisoners and was fired upon 8 times from a distance of 75 yards. All shots missed him. By this time the two Platoons had made contact and Lt. Albee and Sgt. Ziebarth went on foot to a nearby hill, picked up about 15 prisoners, and cleared the hill. All tanks of the 2nd and 3rd Platoons had now entered Binscheid and had outposted it. In the assault against the town each Platoon took about 60 prisoners, and the 3rd Platoon shot up 3 enemy cars. While in the center of town a German tank pulled within a 1000 yards of them and placed about 15 rounds in the town. It was driven off, but not captured. At 2100 the 3rd Platoon rejoined its’ attached Rcn. Platoon, moved around to the position previously held by the 2nd Platoon on the right flank, and went into a holding position for the night. The 2nd Platoon continued to outpost Binscheid for the night. Heavy artillery barrages fell in town around dusk.

The 1st Platoon performed maintenance on their tanks and remained with the Headquarters section of the Company at Elcherath, Germany. The Platoon was put on a short notice alert.

22 February 1945

In the morning just after daybreak, the 3rd Platoon noticed smoke coming from two pill boxes just a short distance away. Four men from the Rcn. went around on the right while the Platoon covered them from the front with machine gun fire. Both pill boxes were taken along with 7 prisoners. The Platoon continued to hold the high ground for the day.

The 2nd Platoon went to objective “B”, which was high ground, and took it with 1 platoon of Rcn. This high ground was subjected to high velocity shelling all day, and during their stay there, a shell landed close to Sgt. Morrison’s tank and punctured the bogie wheels and adapter. The Platoon outposted and held this ground for the day.

The 1st Platoon was alerted at 0330, and moved from the Company area at Elcherath, Germany at 0430. They proceeded to the 90th Div. Rcn. C.P., joined forces with the 1st Platoon Rcn., and moved to a hill S.E. of Binscheid. This hill was held by them until relieved by the 358th Inf. Regt. at 1900. The Platoon plus the attached platoon of Rcn. moved to Arzfeld and set up positions for the defense of the Division flank and rear.

Headquarters Platoon was alerted at 0530 and moved form Elcherath to a place (927-413), where they set up their C.P.

At 1900 the 3rd Platoon was assigned to task Force Sepps (this may be Task force Spiess) with new missions, namely to be the right flank task force, and to capture the towns on that flank. At 2100 the Platoon moved to Arzfeld, contacted the 1st Platoon there, and stayed there for the balance of the night.

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“We sailed over the hill and went around, and opened fire over here like that,” Dale said. “I went down this little dip and just went up, and oh, just topped the rise here, and I was planning on stopping just beyond that rise and opening up. Well, right there is where I set off the mine. And of course, it knocked our tank out. So we dismounted, got behind the tank. There’s a damn machine gun right over here, right straight ahead of us firing on us but we all got behind the tank, and I hollered, ‘Send up my second tank.’ Well, the second tank, and that was Murphy in it and I don’t remember the others, came up right in my tracks. And they got up, oh, probably oh, maybe twice as far as from here to the bush from me, and they rolled across and all of a sudden there’s the damnedest explosion.

“Later on we learned that what it was was the Italian box mine, and what it does, it’s a big box that goes across the road, and then it’s got two cutters. And when you roll across that it cuts a wire and sets off the thing.

“Evidently, the tank just wasn’t heavy enough, the light tank wasn’t heavy enough to cut it completely, so when they rolled over they cut it. Well, when that exploded, it blew the whole bottom of the tank in, and of course stopped the tank right away. So I ran over, and, it, you know, the hatch was blown loose, threw it up, well, the little driver was Slick was the driver, I knew he was dead because he was just kind of slumped forward like that, and the whole back end of his head was gone. And his back was just shredded. And I ran over and right here, the little assistant driver, he couldn’t stand up. So I grabbed him under the arms and pulled him up, and just threw him over, and then ran up.

“Murphy was crawling out of the turret by that time, and I just helped him out, and Holt was trying to get out. And then like a goddamn fool...”

“Oh, that was Holt was in that tank, too?” (Bill Holt was one of two crew members who survived when a light tank ran over a string of mines and flipped over in Normandy.)

“You know, I think it was. I have to check...”

“You’re probably right.”

“But it just seems to me that poor old Holt, that was the third time he was wounded. But I know Murphy was in there.”

“Now, how did you go into the tank?”

“I didn’t go in. I just ran up on the front slope plate like that, see, and stood right there, like this is a hatch right here, and this is the driver. I knew he was dead, so I just stepped over here and here’s the little bow gunner, and I grabbed him like this, and where you get the strength I don’t know, but I pulled him up like that and his legs were broken I don’t know how many times below the knees, and that’s the reason he couldn’t stand up to get out. And then I just ran up here, and right here is Murphy, and helped him over, and then I saw Holt was getting out, and I’m pretty sure it was Holt. And then instead of jumping behind that tank, I turned around and ran back to my own tank, behind it.

“Well, Handlebar Hank had been, he was laying right here, say like this is my tank that was knocked out here, the second one on the, he was right here and that explosion knocked the living daylights out of him and he just kind of jumped up and then fell, over here in the road, and this damn machine gun opened up, and you saw the tracers come by here like that that missed him. And then the second time he came back it walked right up over his shoulder.

“Well, now, this, I can prove this. I ran back, got Handlebar Hank, pulled him over here and got him over into the ditch between me and my tank, got him in there. And then we called for artillery support because I knew we couldn’t do a damn thing, and there’s two Germans right in here, and we knew they were right there, so, you know, the old ‘Kommen Sie Hier Macht Schnell Mit der Hande Ho Oder Ich Schiessen.’ We captured those two Germans. They came running just, probably from here to that bush, they came running over. So we called for artillery.

“In the meantime, the Germans started throwing artillery in on us. And so I called back and said, ‘Send us help,’ for support, to get the wounded out. And the fences there was these little, oh, kind of like a pole fence, so what we did we just, we’d reach up and grab those poles, put two down like that and we took our coats off and our tankers’ jackets and run the sleeves through it, we made stretchers. And I had to call back and had Pat just start backing up, him and his other tank…”

“Shortall?”

“Shortall, Pat. And I think Holmes was the one behind him. And I had them back up, and open fire to pin anything down here and then we carried, we got everybody out of there that was wounded, including, we made the two PWs help us carry them. And it was, the last time I saw Handlebar Hank, we radioed back to send a medic up, and they sent a medic jeep up, and old Handlebar Hank was laying on a litter on this medic jeep, and he had a cigarette laying, it was like this, hands all bloody and blood all over, puffing, and he looked over at me and I said, ‘How are you, Handlebar?’

“He says, ‘I got me a million dollar wound. I’m going back to the States.’ Like that.”

“But he must have been hit pretty badly.”

“Oh, he was hit bad, see, we saw the puffs, when he was laying there you could see the German just started in and just worked up. And the first one missed him, came right down like that and missed him over here, but that third one he was kind of laying this way and it just walked right over his shoulder. And then that explosion, Jesus, right beside...”

“But he survived?”

“I don’t know, see, I have no way of knowing because he was evacuated, and I got on Shortall’s tank and rode on the outside, and we moved back. And then, since I only had two tanks, they sent the captain’s tank up for the third, and then that’s the next day where the second platoon moved around with infantry and we went ahead and came in this way, went down the slope and came in, and took the town. That’s the time Ziebarth, an old German, Bang, at him, shot and Ziebarth emptied a whole clip, 250 rounds, into that foxhole and the little German stood up and smiled. Ziebarth says ‘Oh, shit,’ and comes back. You know, I think somewhere I read we said he was about 70 yards away, that’s a bunch of bull because that little guy wasn’t any farther than from here to that bush and he just stood up, ‘Bang!’ He looked...Zeke was just getting ready to crawl out of the darn tank, because we’d come in this way and he’d come in this way, and he just reached over to his ack-ack gun and d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d, and he just figured that’s guy’s just dead as hell, then all over a sudden, ‘Kamerad.’

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Part 1: The Best “Little” Tank Company in the E.T.O.

Part 2: “The Best ‘Little’ Tank Company in the E.T.O. Part 2

Part 3: “Another Mark V Bit the Dust”

Part 4: Grab ‘em By the Nose and Kick ‘em in the Ass

Part 5: Requiem for a Panzer Brigade

Part 6: This Episode is Personal

Part 7: Little Joe and Mortimer Snerd

Part 8: Death of a Battalion Commander

Part 9: Leading From the Middle

Part 10: Close Encounters of the Panzerfaust Kind

This is Part 10 of “The Best ‘Little’ Tank Company in the E.T.O.” Here’s a synopsis in case you haven’t been following along:

“When Colonel Randolph was killed, that must have been a terrible shock,” I said.

“To the whole battalion,” Dale Albee said, “because the word came around, and it really made you sick, because I don’t think there was a man in the whole battalion that disliked Colonel Randolph. He was such a fine man, and just so pleasant. He was firm but pleasant. He didn’t take any bull and he protected his people. If they wanted to send tanks out without infantry, no way. You have to support them. If you want the use of our tanks you’ve got to protect them. This is the reason why I think that the tank battalion and the infantry formed such a formidable team, because he helped them form that. The infantry didn’t want to work without tanks. Tanks didn’t work without infantry. And as soon as we got to working together, you just, it was like a tank crew. You spent so much time together that finally you was a team in that tank, when you worked so much, and like with me, I usually worked with the platoon in recon, Kelly’s 90th Recon. I worked with Mike, with his third platoon. Only time I got in trouble was that damned second platoon. Mike could smell Germans, and we just worked like a team. Usually what he would do is he would put, he had a scout jeep, and a sergeant up there that just like him could smell the Germans, and they put him up in front. And maybe sometimes two jeeps, and then my tank. And then either my second tank or sometimes they’d put an M-8 in there for contact, radio contact.”

“What’s an M-8,” I asked, “a halftrack?”

“No. It’s an [armored] vehicle that has two, four, six wheels. And the damn thing you could pee in the road and it’d go in the ditch. I towed one of those suckers halfway across Europe. But they needed them with the recon; you see, they didn’t have any tank of their own, and they used the M-8. It had a 37, and a 50-caliber ring mount. So they’d put it up there. But usually it was either behind me or behind my second tank, because ninety percent of the time you worked, you had a five-tank platoon but you always had one either knocked out or gone, or down with trouble. So you was working with four tanks most of the time, two and two, two in the second section. Pat Shortall, my platoon sergeant, if I went left, he went right. Or excuse me, my second tank would go right, I’d go left, and then Pat would left and right, but they would stay as a base of fire. And that worked; the only time that it really hurt was the M-8 was right behind me. We got fired on in this little town, and for some reason I took off to the right. My second tank was behind the M-8, cut to the left, and the M-8, instead of stopping, kept on going, and he came up, and he was even with me, and an antitank gun from over here hit the M-8. If he’d have stayed in there, he’d have taken me. But here’s this M-8 blocking me, so he knocked him out. And that was a flamer, just like McNulty’s tank, when we pulled them out of there it was just, you know, they was just burned.”

“And that was infantry?”

“No, that was the M-8. See, that was a recon vehicle.”

“From the 712th?”

“No, no, 90th Recon. Kelly was the 90th Infantry Recon. Because Captain Kelly was one and Mike was the name of the, I don’t know his last name, but I wish I did, because boy oh boy, we worked together and he was tops.”

“Now what happened when you got into trouble with the second platoon?” I asked,

“Oh, that little shit,” Dale said. “His favorite words, you see, I would be attached to the recon, so I had to take orders from them. This one town, that’s the time I got bounced up with a panzerfaust. The little guy says, ‘You have to lead.’

“I said, ‘No,’ I said, ‘You guys always lead into town.’”

“The little guy being Obrient?” I asked.

“No, no,” Dale said. “The second lieutenant out of the recon. I was working with the second platoon of the recon. And he said, ‘No,’ he says, ‘You’ll have to go in.’

“I said, ‘I don’t have any infantry support.’ I says, ‘We can’t lead into a town.’

“And he said, ‘Well, Kelly said so.’

“I said, ‘Well, I’ve got to know that.’

“He said, ‘Well, just a minute, I’ll go back and check.’

“Like a damn fool I didn’t follow him, and he came back and he said, ‘Kelly says that you’re supposed to lead in, and we’ll stand up here and guard, and then we’ll come on in.’

“Well, fine. We headed off and went into the town, and as soon as we got in, I always carry a bunch of guns on, I had an M-1, a bazooka and the whole damn works, and a B.A.R. in the back of the tank. So I jumped out and I grabbed the M-1 and I started leading my tank through there.”

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“So you were acting as the infantry?” I asked.

“Yeah. That’s all we could do. I did that several times, dismount, and lead your tank. Because that way you could spot mines, and at least find out what in the hell is going ahead, sneak up to a corner and look around. But we came up, and just like, oh shoot, it’s hard to explain, see, like we came around this corner, came up, and this is a corner of the house right here, and my tank came right up here like this. Well, here was a railroad station here, and a ditch, a big ditch that ran across right here. And why this German ever ran, but he came out the door and started running this way, towards the ditch. I’m standing right here with the M-1. So I shot him.

“Just about the time I shot him and was just starting to turn around and look, from somewhere over here they shot a panzerfaust, and it hit right in front of my light tank. It bounced me up against this brick building and put gravel, the panzerfaust, that little pieces of tin, from my waist down it was just like I’d been a pin cushion. It just splattered me. And I couldn’t hear, and they say that I just dropped my M-1 down like that and I turned around and I started walking back. I couldn’t hear. I didn’t know what was going on.

“What happened, my tank backed up, and back here they had two TDs, tank destroyers, with us, so they sent one of them on in, and he started out, and he went down the line and pulled off through here, with a .50-caliber gun and firing the big gun, the 76, and they went on in. And after about ten minutes, I finally kind of came around, and then we went ahead and cleared it. But Jiminy Christmas. The little devil. He lied to me because later on I asked Kelly, I says, ‘Captain Kelly, what is this deal,’ I says, ‘Anytime I’m working with Mike, Mike always gives me support. If we have to go in, he’ll send a jeep ahead so that those men can dismount and I’ll be right there with him, but I’ve got support.’ I said this, I wish I could remember his name, I said, ‘Every time that we get into anything that he gets a little leery, he says that you said for me to go.’

“And Kelly says, ‘I’ll have a talk with him.’ He says, ‘You know I never said that.’ And he says it’s completely wrong. He says, ‘Let me handle it.’ That’s all he’d say. He wouldn’t say the lieutenant was wrong or anything. He just says, ‘I’ll take care of it.’”

“How badly were you injured?” I asked.

“That was it, from the waist down I was just cut, it was just like you took a thousand needles and just threw them and then pulled them back out, because for years after that, I’d get a little [tweezers] and then pull out these little pieces because the panzerfaust, they had this little piece of light aluminum that came out like a football that covered the shaped charge. And all that stuff, when that exploded, it just made itty bitty shrapnels, and it just peppered me to beat the living shit.”

“But you kept on going or were you evacuated?”

“No, I kept on going. After I came to my senses. Because really, I knew that I was bleeding, but I couldn’t see anything, any big gashes or anything like that, so hell, I’m still able to move. So we got in and we went on down about two more towns, then settled in for the night. And that’s when I grabbed a jeep and went back to the medics, and I told the sergeant back there, ‘Look,’ I says, ‘don’t you evacuate me, but I want you to look at this and see what,’ so he iodined me and gave me a bunch of stuff so I could go back, because part of the time if you was evacuated you may not come back to your own company. But dang it, you know, it’s little things like that. That was the second time that guy had lied to me.”

“What happened the first time?”

“Same deal,” Dale said. “I dismounted and led my tank through a mine field because he wouldn’t go out and check the road ahead of us. It’s a funny feeling standing out in front of your tank, wide open territory. Because you could see the dang things dug in.”

“You could see the mines?”

“It was a hasty mine field; they didn’t have time to camouflage it and they just dug holes and covered them, so you could see them; you could guide your tank through it. It only went oh, like from here to that stone, that they managed to lay in anything.

“One other time we was out there, and they threw an antitank gun. We came down, there was a curve and you had to go like this, and go down a hill and then up like that, and there was an antitank gun and he threw one into the curve. He was too fast. So we stopped there and went over on this little rise and we’re trying to pinpoint, and trying to get some artillery in there. This jeep came up and it was an artillery colonel. He says, ‘What’s happened?’

“And we said, ‘We’ve got an antitank gun up there, and we’re trying to get some artillery.’

“What’s the matter? You yellow?’

“‘No, we’re not yellow. There’s an antitank gun and he’s zeroed in on this corner.’

“‘Well goddammit, you’ve got a tank. Get in your tank and go. That’s an order.’

“I looked at him, I says, ‘All right.’

“And I turned, and I’d just started down toward my tank, I wasn’t going to, because I’d have shot him before I’d have done it, but I was obeying an order. I started for my tank, and bless that little German up there, about that time he laid one right on the corner. And that colonel just kind of turned white, walked over to his jeep, pffft. But you know, stupid things like that, and why he was up there nobody’ll ever know.

“We got some artillery, and there’s no more firing, so we decided, all right, fine. And Mike said, “You take one tank. You take your tank and go down and go into that,’ there’s a little town right here just around the curve, ‘come down like that,’ he says. ‘If you can run your tank down into there, I’m pretty sure it’s clear. And if there is anything over there,’ he says, ‘usually they protect them with a machine gun, and my jeep would be wide open.’”

“Boom, around the corner I go, down and we pulled in there, Boogedy, hard left [George “Boogedy Borden was Dale’s tank driver], and pull in there,’ and I think, ‘Oh, I’ve got this building between me and that antitank gun.’ And I’m looking out the turret, and this sonofabitch over here let loose with another antitank gun that we didn’t know about, and I swear, if I’d have reached my hand up like that I could have caught it. And I tell you, if you ever saw a man go to the bottom of a turret so fast in all your life! ‘Boogedy! Back up! Back up!’

“But I tell you, your heart’s just about that dang big around. I felt so safe, we’d got around the corner and got behind that building.”

Looking at the transcript, we were only about halfway through the interview, but Dale paused for a moment and said, “Well, now, what else can I tell you?”

“Tell me about Boogedy,” I said.

“Boogedy?”

“You said you had a bunch of stories...”

“Oh, that silly Boogedy. We was on recon again this one time, and the .50-caliber set right over so that if you fired the muzzle blast went right in the turret of the driver and the bow gunner. So we’d always tell Boogedy ‘Button up’ before we fired the .50. And usually the .50 was used if we saw something out there.

“We came around this corner and the jeep came around and he was going this way and as we come around, a platoon of Germans which we later found was a machine gun, or a mortar platoon, started running, oh, maybe as far from here to that building back there, for the building. And I just said ‘Hard left!’ and I opened up with the .50. And then of course my gunner and in the meantime I’m giving orders for the second tank to fire. And I emptied that full 110-round belt on there. So we finally got the firefight over with. I says, ‘Boogedy, move out!’ and there’s not a thing.

“I thought, ‘What the hell’s going on now?’

“And I look over and Boogedy’s standing over there with his arms folded.

“‘Boogedy, what are you doing out there?’

“‘I quit.’

“‘You what?’

“‘I quit. I’m not driving anymore.’”

“I says, ‘How in the hell can you quit out here? Get back in the tank and let’s get going.’

“‘No sir. If you can’t tell me to button up by god before you open up with that .50-caliber I’m not driving anymore. I quit.’

“And it took me about two minutes before I could convince him to get back in that tank. I said, ‘Where are you gonna go? I’ll have to leave you right out here alone if you don’t get in the tank.’

“But I tell you, Boogedy got it. We were firing on this town. Now a bow gunner’s, your coaxial gun has a bag comes down like that, has a zipper on the bottom, and when that bag fills up firing these .30-caliber rounds, these hot rounds, you call down, or the little bow gunner checks every once in a while, and his helmet is usually right there on the floorboard, the steel helmet. He turns around, unzips, takes the hot rounds, and pours them on the floor until you get a chance to clean out your tank. So this one time, we could tell that it was getting real full. The gun was starting to catch every once in a while. So I called down to I forget who it was, little bow gunner, ‘Empty the bag.’ And we of course we went on firing. All of a sudden I heard the damnedest commotion you ever heard in your life.

“I said, ‘What the hell’s going on down there?’

“‘I’m gonna kill that little SOB. I’m gonna kill him!’

“And you almost felt the tank shake.

“What had happened, this little bow gunner, he does this, he looks over and here’s Boogedy sitting forward, like this, looking to see what’s going on. He dumped that whole helmet full of hot rounds right down behind Boogedy.

“Later on I asked him, I said, ‘Why in the hell did you do that?’

“‘Lieutenant,’ he says, ‘I don’t know.’ He says, ‘I just looked over there and I wasn’t thinking, and I did it before I ever thought not to do it.’

“Again, it took me a long time to convince Boogedy that he shouldn’t kill that little bow gunner.

“But we did get a train.”

“A train?”

“Yes indeed. We got us a train.”

“How did you get a train?”

“We were about 15 miles ahead of our enemy, and we came down, and there’s a little river here, and there are some railroad tracks. And we was coming down this road, on recon again, and we heard this damn train whistle back there. So we just stopped on the road and traversed, and I just told everybody to wait until I fire, then open up. And as soon as the engine got up like that I opened up on the engine and started this way, and my other tank at the end, he started this way, and I think there was about five cars on it, and we just worked that whole damn thing over. We got us a train.

“We got us a boat in the Rhine River, too.”

“Do you know what was on the train?”

“There were some personnel, and then something that exploded because about the second boxcar back exploded and just raised hell down there. But other than that I don’t know. There were some troops. We got them. And that explosive. And then I don’t know what else, because things started burning. See the thing about a 37, you couldn’t knock out anything big, but you could sure, you couldn’t knock a town down but you could sure burn it, because those armor-piercing were really good incendiary.

“We pulled in — somebody was talking about a mortar platoon that, they said the second platoon got it but they was wrong on that, that was the third platoon. We pulled in up on the bluff overlooking the Rhine River and set up there, and then at night we’d opened up on a, we started a German car on fire on the road across the river, and then during the night, anything that started we could hear it coming down or coming this way. As soon as that blacked out, we’d open up, we zeroed in on it. Except for one motorcycle. And that sonofa...played games with us all night and we never did get him. Hear him coming, it’d be silent. All of a sudden you’d see the black...we’d open up, think by god, we got him. Brrrrrr...He’d come back. Black. Open up. We never did get that guy.”

“He must have been like a messenger.”

“M-hm. Yeah. But we had fun. And then that night, we were sitting on a slope overlooking the Rhine, and we knew that we wanted to get out of there real early in the morning, but Boogedy had the levers locked, and he shifted and unlocked one and our tank went like that, and we thought we was gonna go on over the dang thing onto the road below. But the next morning we spotted this, it was a 40-man platoon with mortars, and they was coming up this slope, and there was a town down here and the second platoon was coming in down there, and they was coming up and what they was trying to do was get up there and set up the mortar. And we had, lucky, good contact. I could call back to either Wagnon or Kelly. I called back to I think it was to Wagnon at that time, and called for artillery support.

“First round came in like that, and so they was over here, and so I gave them left, and up to, and started firing. Pretty soon it’d be over here. And I guided this over here, and got back. And finally one round hit in there, and I said ‘Fire for effect.’

“And that damn hillside just erupted. What I didn’t know, I had two batteries of three guns, and when I was giving corrections one would fire, and I’d correct it. And then by that time this one would fire, and I’d correct it. I was working back and forth. And when they opened up, my god, it was just like that, and I had six guns that opened up on that platoon. We didn’t see a single one get out of there.

“Then we saw this boat coming down the Rhine.

“We got airplanes. We got onto a field, captured three airplanes. Shot one up. ME-109s.”

“Did you see any of the German jet planes?”

“Yeah, the ME-209, yeah. The ME-109 was semi-jet. But right there toward the end of the war, they had the ME-209 which is a fast sonofagun. The 51 you know could really handle the 109, or the Focke-Wulf 190, but that 209, that thing was, if the Germans had more time they’d have been pretty damn nasty. Especially with that damn buzz bomb. Boy, what they did to St. Vith. You didn’t worry too much about the V-2 because if you could see it and see that streak of flame, you could hear it for miles, see it coming. Or if it was coming this way is when it scared the hell out of you because as soon as that fire stopped, it was just like a mortar. It just nosed down, and you didn’t know, and if it was up there, you knew that it had to come somewhere this way, over there you didn’t mind. V-2s, the Germans had some awful goods, just like that damn nebelwurfer, and the panzerfaust. The nebelwurfer was a rocket, just like a mortar. And the panzerfaust was one of the best things they had. That damn thing was just, did you ever have it described?”

“Like a football?”

“Uh-huh. A little tube, a long tube and you just put it under your shoulder and fire. Three springed steel flanges. That looked like a football coming at you, not a good spiral because it would fishtail, but the thing about it is, if they was to shoot it at you, and it landed in front and you didn’t see it, it looked like mortar, and so you’d keep going, thinking it was mortar fire. And shoot, then all of a sudden you see this football coming at you, and then you had your heart failure.”

“Did you ever see them?”

“Oh yeah. See, at Binscheid we just damn near ran into, they threw two of them at me and hit right in front and I thought we was going into mortar. And then the third one I saw it and it came back and went over the tank on the right side but I saw the football, and then I backed up. The day before I’d lost two tanks right there on the road to our left, but the second platoon was coming in from the right, so we just backed up and opened fire and raised fire, and then moved on forward together.”

“Now Loop, Russell Loop — I went out to see him at his farm a couple of years ago, and the very end of the talk, his wife mentioned that his leg had been skinned almost to the bone. And I asked, he never mentioned, it was like it was a little nothing the way he talked about it, and I asked him what did it, and he said ‘A panzerfaust came into the tank and skinned it.’”

“Well it could,” Dale said, “because, see, the thing about it is, it’s got that V-shaped charge, and when it hits, that aluminum thing, if it hit solid, it would explode back here. But there was usually an inch and a half of that little aluminum going around, and that would crumple. That gave this just enough time so that it would burn a one-inch hole, and then here all this molten metal, and the explosion. If you was buttoned up, the concussion would kill the whole crew. If you had your hatches open, the concussion would deafen you. But that molten metal was just like a hornet’s nest in the tank. And yeah, if he was near that, that would just blow everything away from it.

“Sitting in a tank it sure could, because, you know, get hit with that, it’d just burn it right off.”

From the D Company log:

3 February 1945

No changes took place on this day other than changing the Platoons at the outposts. Also a section of building was cleared out, cleaned up, and made into a writing room. Tables, benches, a phonograph, and two stoves were placed in the room.

4 February 1945

No changes.

5 February 1945

The company moved from the area at Lieler, Luxembourg at 1330 and arrived at the new area in Thommen, Belgium (815-814) at 1430. The distance traveled was about 12 miles. The housing facilities at this area were rather bad and crowded conditions existed.

The melting snows converted the roads and fields into muddy messes.

Cpl. O’Farrell returned to the Company after being evacuated for a broken foot on 12 August 1944.

6 February 1945

The company minus the kitchen and maintenance sections moved from the area at Thommen, Belgium at 1315, and proceeded to the new area at Winterscheid, Germany (937-625) around 1600. The distance traveled was about 19 miles.

Once again the housing facilities were very bad, and the only portion of building available was an old blacksmith shop. The CP was set up in this space. The balance of the company had to seek shelter in barns and hay lofts. The muddy fields made outside conditions very undesirable.

Enroute to Winterscheid, the Coompany passed through the town of St. Vith. Everyone agreed that it was the worst wreck of a town yet seen. What had once been a city was now scarcely a skeleton. One house remained standing, and that was on the outskirts of town.

7 February 1945

The kitchen and the maintenance section left the area at Thommen, Belgium and rejoined the company at Winterscheid, Germany.

The 1st Platoon had a mission to make contact with the 4th Infantry Division and get the disposition of the 22nd Inf. Regt. The 1st Platoon was accompanied by a portion of the 90th Div. Rcn. Troop. Contact was made at the towns of Sellerich and Herscheid, Germany. A flat trajectory weapon fired several rounds over the Platoon, but they were high and did no damage. The Platoon then returned to the Company area.

The following is from the Battalion after action reports:

8 February the company was called on about 1700 to send two Platoons in the vicinity of Brandscheid, Germany to outpost all roads S and E of the town. Four tanks of the 2d Platoon and the 1st section of the 3d Platoon moved out at 1730. Due to the darkness and muddy roads they did not get in position until about 2000. All communications from the outposts reported no enemy action up to 2400.

9 February the two platoons continued to outpost the roads for the day at Brandscheid, Germany. They were relieved and returned to company control around 1730. While moving into the company area at Winterscheid, a tank hit and set off several seconds later what was believed to be a hand grenade.

12 February the 1st and 2d Platoons moved at 1700 to the new area at Elcherath, Germany. The next day the 3d and Headquarters Platoons moved from Winterscheid, Germany at 0930 and arrived in the new area at Elcherath, Germany (896-816) at 1000, distance 3.6 miles. The day was spent in maintenance and cleaning up of the vehicles.

16 February all the white paint was removed from the vehicles. During the period spent in this area a platoon of tanks is alerted for each 24 hours to act as part of a task force to counter-attack in case of an enemy break through. The alert is operated on a 20 minute notice, and for any area in the Division Zone. A reconnaissance was made of the center of the zone, the right flank, and other sectors to familiarize themselves with the roads and general terrain. This reconnaissance was made by Platoon leaders and Platoon Sergeants.

[Here there is a discrepancy, or at least a difference, between the battalion after reports and the D Company log entries for February 18 and 19, 1945. There is no entry in the after action reports for the 18th.]

From the Company journal:

18 February 1945

The Companies’ water cans were sterilized, and the rest of the day spent in care and cleaning of the vehicles and personal weapons.

A check was made on the fit of the gas masks and shortages in component parts. It was found that many of the heavy black masks, when exposed to the cold for over a period of time became stiff and failed to fit the face properly.

The 1st Platoon was alerted and moved from the Company area at 1400. They contacted the 3rd Bn., 358th Inf. Regt. at Habscheid, (955-766), moved through Hollnich S. towards Masthorn, and spent the night in the vicinity of (965-748) — map of Germany 1/25,000 — No. 5803. While moving through some woods, tank 12 threw a track. Another vehicle was required to pull the tank and further maintenance needed, so the tank and crew were left behind to be worked on and moved the next day.

In the Company at Elcherath hot showers have been available in a near-by school house and all the men have had the opportunity to get cleaned up.

Pvt. Wiley reported back to duty after being released from a clearing station.

19 February 1945

Tank 12 returned to the Company area in the morning.

Lt. Godfrey and S/Sgt. Lutcavish proceeded on foot [In the after action reports, it says “two platoon leaders proceeded on foot. Lieutenant O’Brient was the leader of the second platoon] with a platoon of tanks from “A” Company and attached Infantry, and took the town of Masthorn with little resistance. The Platoon was held in reserve the balance of the day screening the open right flank of the 358th Inf. Regt’s sector in the vicinity of Masthorn. They were reverted to Company control and returned to the Company area around 1900.

The 2nd and 3rd Platoons were alerted and moved out around 1300. Tank 34 was left behind due to a shortage of crews. The two platoons were working with units of the 90th Div. Rcn. and attached to the 357th Inf. Regt. operating in the vicinity 1 kilometer N. of Benscheid, Germany [This likely should be Binscheid].

1st Sgt. Thompson left for Infantry O.C.S. in the morning and was replaced by S/Sgt. Reynolds.

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Part 1: The Best “Little” Tank Company in the E.T.O.

Part 2: “The Best ‘Little’ Tank Company in the E.T.O. Part 2

Part 3: “Another Mark V Bit the Dust”

Part 4: Grab ‘em By the Nose and Kick ‘em in the Ass

Part 5: Requiem for a Panzer Brigade

Part 6: This Episode is Personal

Part 7: Little Joe and Mortimer Snerd

Part 8: Death of a Battalion Commander

Part 9: Leading From the Middle

This is Part 9 of “The Best ‘Little’ Tank Company in the E.T.O.” Here’s a synopsis in case you haven’t been following along:

This is a work in progress, and as I tackle episode 9, I realize it may seem a bit disjointed. When I began, I was thinking the story would make a good book, but I didn’t sit and lay out all the elements that might go into a book, and then tackle them one by one. Instead, I’m winging it, with the D Company log of the 712th Tank Battalion as the binding element.

There are some things that should go into a book I’ll likely never be able to resolve. Such as the time one of the enlisted men in the second platoon supposedly pulled a pistol on the platoon leader, Lieutenant Lex Obrient. I first heard about this in my interview with tank driver Andy Schifler and I later interviewed Obrient, but two years and a lot of transcripts passed between interviews and I never brought the alleged incident up. Schifler said it was Russell Loop, but I have a note in the transcript that Schifler later corrected himself and said it was not Loop. Both Loop and Mike Solomon were transferred out of D Company, Loop to C Company where he was awarded the Silver Star for his actions at Pfaffenheck, Germany, on March 16, 1945; and Solomon attended most reunions but would never talk about the war other than to say he spent much of it in a traveling jail which followed the front. He said it in a way that seemed to be making light of it, but he said it so often I began to believe some version of it must have been true.

My efforts to get Solomon to talk did get him to say O’Brient didn’t lead the platoon from the first tank in a column, which might have been a cause for resentment among the crew of the actual lead tank. Such speculation is bolstered by a passage from the transcript of my interview with Andy Schifler, Obrient’s tank driver. I am relying mostly on the interview transcripts as my memory is not reliable. For instance, in 1993 on one of my interviewing trips I visited Russell and Suella Loop in Indianola, Illinois, but when I began this project my recollection placed Russell in C Company, which he was, but I forgot that he started out in D Company and was transferred to C Company, a platoon of the heavier Sherman tanks, around the time of the Battle of the Bulge. I was primarily interested in Russell’s story because of his role at Pfaffenheck, Germany, where a battle took place between C Company’s second platoon and elements of the 6th SS Mountain Division North. But while he was in D Company he also took part in the series of foot patrols supplying the tankers who had crossed the Saar River without a bridge, and evacuating wounded infantry men.

Russell did talk some about his time in D Company, and in Andy Schifler’s scrapbook, he had a copy of Russell’s Silver Star citation which I read into the tape. He also had his own Silver Star citation, which I would be getting ahead of the story if I quoted it today.

Aaron Elson (reading): “Russell W. Loop,” this is GO526HQ 90th Infantry Division, 11 June ‘45. “Russell W. Loop, 36006295, Technician 4th Grade Infantry, 712th Tank Battalion, U.S. Army, for gallantry in action on 16 March, 1945, in the vicinity of Pfaffenheck, Germany. When the tank on which he served as gunner was hit and forced to withdraw, Technician 4th Grade Loop worked under enemy fire evacuating wounded men from the vehicle to a nearby house where he treated them. He then crawled under intense machine gun fire to reach and administer medical treatment to a wounded tank commander. Immediately afterward, he voluntarily accompanied three infantry men in taking a strategically located house, personally killed nine enemy, and helped defend the building against all counterattacks. His gallantry was in accordance with high military tradition. Entered military service from Illinois.”

Do you know this guy Loop? Do you know Russell Loop?

Andy Schifler: I did. He was our sergeant in our tank platoon. Russell Loop.

Aaron Elson: In D Company?

Andy Schifler: Yeah.

Aaron Elson: But he was in C Company.

Andy Schifler: No, the Loop, we had a Loop. That was him. He was from Arizona...

Aaron Elson: He lives in Indianola, now...

Andy Schifler: He was the guy that I think wanted to shoot O’Brient...

Aaron Elson: What? Go on...

?Andy Schifler: (He later said it wasn’t Loop, and added: “Well, he had the lead tank, he had to go first. See, Patton changed it, he didn’t want the lieutenants all being killed. So they put the platoon sergeants in the lead. Is he still living?”)

(According to Find-a-Grave, Russell Loop died in 2000 at the age of 80. I interviewed him in 1993 and Andy in 1995, but I didn’t keep in touch after the interview. However, it is not likely that Loop would have been the platoon sergeant.)

This from my interview with Loop:

Russell Loop: You see, D Company never went across the Saar. We didn’t take our tanks over. But we parked just right at the edge, and then we got word that we were supposed to pull back and go up to the Belgian Bulge. Well, we were trying to get all of our troops out of there, infantry and, see, the 90th Infantry boys were over there, too, and I think A and B and C companies had tanks over there. But D never had a tank over. So what we were doing was trying to get everything back, get as many tanks as we could back, plus get the wounded and the frostbite. Most of them were frozen.

Aaron Elson: Do you remember, there was a captured pillbox where they had the wounded?

Russell Loop: Yes.

Aaron Elson: Now that’s the patrol that my father led, and he was wounded. A report that I read said that they sent everybody back until they found out where the firing was coming from, because they thought that he was wounded by friendly fire.

Russell Loop: It could have been. You never know. That was one of the things you didn’t know.

Aaron Elson: It was at 3 o’clock in the morning.

Russell Loop: I’d say that’s about right, because we would go, we would plan on leaving about 10 o’clock, and taking supplies in, and then we would load those rubber rafts with wounded or frostbite, and bring them back. And then we’d turn them over to the medics; where they went to from there I don’t know.

Aaron Elson: So you started out in D Company, and then, at the Bulge or, you later transferred to C Company?

Russell Loop: Yes. You see, what happened over there, they lost a lot of tanks and a lot of gunners. So they looked up our records, and I don’t know whether it was sheer luck or what, but I had the second highest gunnery score in the battalion, on all weapons. So they decided that I would be a gunner in C Company. So I transferred from D to C then, and then we went up to the Bulge. And then I stayed in C Company then the rest of the time, until I was discharged.

Aaron Elson: And you were in the second platoon?

Russell Loop: Yes.

Aaron Elson: It was Otha Martin, I asked him about Pfaffenheck, and he rattled off every name of every person in the tanks, in each crew, and he said “Russell Loop, Indianola, Illinois,” there was something about the way that it rolled off the tongue with that Oklahoma accent.

Russell Loop: I get a big charge out of him. He was dandy. We liked him. He was one of the older ones at that time. I think he was married at that time. Of course, a goodly number of us wasn’t because, now I went in in 1941, February of 1941, and went into the regular old horse cavalry. And we went to Camp Seeley, California, and went into the 11th Cavalry. And we were down there playing Mexican border patrol.

Aaron Elson: After Pearl Harbor, right?

Russell Loop: No, before.

Aaron Elson: Really?

Russell Loop: Oh yeah. I was drafted for a year, and, of course I didn’t take any vacation, so I almost had the year in before Pearl Harbor. And at that time, I was carrying a major’s horses in one end of a boxcar and his furniture in the other, and he was a-going to Fort Riley, Kansas. Well, he had a radio in his car, and he come out and he said, there was another boy by the name of Jim Mills from Pontiac out here, and I was a-doing work, he come out and he said “Boys, you’d just as well quit. I’m not going anywhere.”

We had no idea what he was talking about.

So he said, “They’ve started a war. Pearl Harbor.”

So he went across the street, got a case of beer and a fifth of whiskey, and we sat in his car and drank beer and listened to the news the rest of the day. That was as far as that detail got.

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A little bit later I asked him about his arrival in Normandy.

Aaron Elson:: How about crossing the channel, when you went to Normandy? You were on an LST?

Russell Loop: No. We went across on an LCI. And we had the tanks on it, and it was just about, oh, eight inches out of the water, all the way across. I tell you, it was rough. That old channel, I don’t know, I think it’s always rough.

Aaron Elson: Well, the weather was bad.

Russell Loop: Yeah, it was bad. But we got our little old tank on. We had her Bosticed. We had it pretty well waterproofed. We got the silly thing on. But we run up and down the coast there, we run out of gasoline. Parked it. I don’t know what in the world they hit that silly thing with, but they sure blew it to pieces.

Aaron Elson: The ship?

Russell Loop: The tank. We were dug in...

Aaron Elson: On the beach?

Russell Loop: Yeah, right on the beach. I don’t know what they hit it with, but they blew it to pieces.

Aaron Elson:: Was anyone in it?

Russell Loop: No, we’d all bailed out and dug in, and was lucky that we did.

Aaron Elson: This was right on the beach?

Russell Loop: It wasn’t too far off of the beach. It was a little off, but not very far. They must have hit it with a pretty good-sized weapon.

Aaron Elson: Were they smaller than the other tanks?

Russell Loop: Oh, yeah. They, we called them cork guns. Thirty-seven millimeters was the biggest gun they had. And then they had a .50 and two .30s.

Aaron Elson: I was reading in a D Company log that one of the light tanks knocked out a tiger tank once.

Russell Loop: Oh yeah. That wasn’t me. They might have knocked out one, I had no idea. We was pretty busy with your own crew.

Aaron Elson: From what I understand, the light tanks were reconnaissance. They would send you out till you were shot at...

Russell Loop: Yeah. Then you’d come back and report it.

Aaron Elson: That must be an odd feeling.

Russell Loop: That’s rather odd, yes. See, when I went overseas, I went over as a mechanic in the motor pool. Well then, when we got into England, why, they gave night driver’s tests. I don’t know, have you been in England?

Aaron Elson: A long time ago. Not as long ago as you.

Russell Loop: Of course they had blackouts, all over England. And I never was in as dark a country in my life. Now ordinarily I could see after night pretty good. You couldn’t see nothing there. And a lot of our drivers flunked the driver’s test over there. So I became a driver real quick. I don’t know why I passed it yet, I haven’t decided that, but I did.

The tank that was destroyed by artillery may have been one of two second platoon tanks that were lost on July 7, 1944, the battalion’s fifth day of combat when they were not too far inland from the beach. One tank was struck by a bazooka and the other lost a track. No injuries were mentioned in the journal. The entry in my copy of the battalion after action reports for that day is missing, but during that period of July the D Company log is far more detailed than the after action reports.

Of greater importance is Andy’s remark that Patton “changed it, he didn’t want the lieutenants all being killed. So they put the platoon sergeants in the lead.” I could call any number of the Patton historical literary armada and asked if Patton issued such an order and I doubt any would respond in the affirmative. I never interviewed Lieutenant Godfrey, the first platoon leader, and I never asked Dale Albee if there were such a recommendation, but from his interview, there was never an indication that after being placed in charge of the platoon when Lieutenant Coe was wounded in a mine field, he ever had his second section leading the platoon. (At full strength, a platoon had five tanks, with three in the first section led by the lieutenant, and two in the second section, led by the platoon sergeant.)

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Indeed, the 712th Tank Battalion lost a lot of lieutenants. Fourteen of its original sergeants, including Dale Albee, received battlefield commissions. My own father, a replacement lieutenant who received the first of his two wounds in Normandy, was sandwiched between two lieutenants, George Tarr and Arnold Lund, who were killed, Tarr on his first day in combat and Lund on his first day with the battalion. The platoon sergeant, Jule Braatz, would receive the first battlefield commission and lasted until the Siegfried Line in February, when he was evacuated due to explosive diarrhea and a high fever and sent to a hospital in the rear. As if there were some kind of a curse, Hank Schneider took over the platoon and was killed by a sniper in March the day he received his battlefield commission. Ken Fisher of Headquarters Company then was promoted to lieutenant, took over the platoon, and lasted until the end of the war. None of these platoon leaders led from the second section except Arnold Lund, who asked Braatz to lead the platoon until he got his bearings.

“We were on a march at the breakout,” Braatz, of A Company, said when I interviewed him at his home in Beaver Dam, Wisconsin, in 1994. “That was before we got to Avranches. We were in the Third Army then. It was kind of a road march for a while, and then one morning we were gonna take off again. We’re lined up on the road to go down where there’s a Task Force Weaver, and all of a sudden all hell breaks through and the Germans, what we didn’t know at the time was the Germans were trying to come through and cut us off. So my platoon was sent up with some infantry. We went out there and this officer says, ‘Look,’ he says, ‘I don’t know what the hell is going on. You continue to lead the platoon and I’ll ride in the,’ what they call the fourth, the platoon sergeant’s position. And we break through these hedgerows and going down there and we’re firing along and the infantry’s with us, then pretty quick there’s no infantry, and I didn’t realize this but when that other tank came through, the fourth tank came through, WHAM, they got it.

The battalion also went through multiple company commanders, most of whom also led from the front. Jim Cary, the original C Company commander, was wounded on the battalion’s first day of combat when he set off a booby trap while going through a gate. He took command of B Company upon his return in October and was wounded again in the Battle of the Bulge. He was replaced by Bob Vutech, who lasted until the end of the war. Clifford Merrill, the original A Company commander, was wounded on July 13, ten days into combat, while searching on foot for a German machine gun position. He was replaced by his executive officer, Ellsworth Howard, who was wounded at the Falaise Gap, and was replaced by Lester O’Riley. O’Riley, a career Army officer, at one point commanded four different companies. The final A Company commander was George Cozzens. Harlo “Jack” Sheppard, the battalion maintenance officer, replaced Cary as the C Company commander just a couple of days into combat and lasted until the end of the war. He went on to serve in the Korean War.

Alton H. Wagnon, the “old man” who threatened to court martial the D Company clerk if he caught him making copies of the company log, was in charge of the company going back to its days in the 11th Cavalry, and lasted until the end of the war. I have been unable to learn anything about Captain Wagnon, other than that he was a standout polo player at the Pennsylvania Military Academy and was nicknamed the “Oklahoma Roughrider” due to his roots in Duncan, Oklahoma. Also, that he and Lieutenant O’Brient, the second platoon leader, appear to have gotten along very well.

In my 1999 interview, I asked O’Brient what Captain Wagnon was like.

“I’ll tell you, that man was just about like a father to me,” he said. “I respected him. He was a polo player, and he came from Duncan, Oklahoma. But a great person. I really had a lot of respect for Al. All of us did. Gene Godfrey, who had the first platoon, Harry Coe who had the third platoon. I had the second platoon. There was just a close-knit operation. But if Al Wagnon said “Do it,” you didn’t even stop to think. We just, okay, we’d do it, he was that kind of a person. I’ll tell you, I think we were very fortunate to have him as a company commander.”

Dale Albee, who took command of the third platoon after Lieutenant Coe was wounded in a mine field, might have begged to differ.

“The thing about him was, you’d be up, you’d be in a firefight or anything like that, or the worst time, you’d be set up, and like one time we was down on the river, and right across from us German tanks had pulled in,” Dale said. “We had pulled in there and set up, and was deployed. During the night here come these tanks in there, and we’re wondering just what in the hell we’re gonna do, because as soon as it’s daylight, we’re gonna be facing those Germans. And every so often, here’s this radio, ‘What is your situation? What is your situation?’

“‘Let me call you later. Out.’”

“Here’s this radio, you’d use your code words, like Black Top 6, who was the commander, ‘This is Black Top 1.’ Or I was Black Top 3-1, my platoon. ‘This is Black Top 6. What is your condition?’

“‘I’ll call you later...’ Will you shut up!

“You couldn’t say because you didn’t want the Germans to hear?” I asked.

“We didn’t even want them to know,” Dale said. “Luckily, just before dawn the next day, and we’re all sitting there sweating, because the minute we started our engines they were gonna open fire, they pulled out. But we were sitting face to face, and the river wasn’t any farther than from here to that tape. That wide. And we’re sitting in here...”

“Oh my god,” I said. “That narrow a river?”

“Oh yeah,” Dale said. “We could hear them talking.”

“We’re talking about maybe 50 feet wide?”

“Yeah, I suppose about that, that’s about 30 yards, isn’t it, ten, twenty, about thirty yards.”

21 January 1945

SUBJECT: Company Journal

TO: Commanding Officer, 712th Tank Battalion

REF: Map of Central Europe, 1/100,000

The following is a daily journal of this organization from 11 January 1945 to 20 January 1945

11 January 1945

The 3rd Platoon was relieved by the 2nd Platoon around 1100 and reported to Major Fiske of the 359th Inf. Regt. at the C.P. Here the Platoon took up right flank guard along with tanks from “B” Company and vehicles from the 773rd T.D.’s [tank destroyers]. Immediately an artillery and rocket barrage was laid down on the area. Throughout the day numerous barrages were laid down in the area and vicinity. Under cover of darkness the Platoon and a platoon from “B” Company were withdrawn to Nothum and set up all around security for the night. The balance of the Company remained at Boulaide.

12 January 1945

The 2nd Platoon was relieved from the 1st Bn. and reassigned to the 3rd Bn. Lt. O’Brient reported to the Bn. C.O., Col. Booth and received the new assignment, the mission which was to provide right flank security to the C.P. The area was reconnoitered with a peep.

A platoon of tanks from “B” Company had taken crossroad (649-545) and held it with the help of some Infantry. The Germans launched a strong counter-attack that threatened the position. A heavy concentration of artillery and rockets were landing around the crossroad and the 2nd Platoon area. The tanks from “B” Company were running low in ammunition and the 2nd Platoon was called to reenforce them. On the way up they were notified that the situation was well in hand and that they had been resupplied with ammunition. The 2nd Platoon then turned back to provide security for the C.P. for the day. Under the cover of darkness the Platoon carried gas, water, and rations on the tanks to the assault guns and tanks of “B” Co., and took up defensive positions at the 359th O.P. (observation post) for the night. The position was so close to enemy observation that the sound of the engines drew enemy fire. Harassing fire was laid down throughout the night. S/Sgt. Murphy was evacuated for a fractured finger and Pfc. Bourgeois for Psycho-neurosis as of 11 January. [It is likely that Sergeant Murphy suffered the broken finger when a hatch cover came loose and slammed down on his hand, a common injury among tank commanders in the battalion.]

13 January 1945

In the early morning enemy S.P. guns fired into the area held by the 2nd Platoon and several Infantry men were injured. At 1300 word was received that they were relieved by the 26th Infantry Division, but because of the direct observation of about 1 mile of the road by the enemy holding the high ground the Platoon stayed in position until after darkness. During the day barrages were laid down on the area by the Germans and a group of our own planes bombed and strafed the area occupied by attached Infantry by mistake. At nighttime the Platoon moved out. A flat trajectory weapon opened up on them immediately. They ran a gauntlet of fire back to Nothum with enemy artillery so close that the muzzle blasts could be observed on the hill sides. It was an exciting ride back for the Platoon and quite a few grousers were lost due to excessive speed. It was later discovered that the Germans had slipped in area separating the defensive position of the Platoon from the positions held by the “B” Company tanks, and distance of about 500 yards, and placed mines on the road. The Platoon returned back to the Company area which was now Surre, Luxembourg.

Around 0830 the Company moved to Surre- (595-466) a distance of about 3 miles.

Lt. Hiatt, T/Sgt. Albee, T/4 Freeberg, and T/5 Horn, with the aid of a retriever from “B” Company spent seven hours in recovering tanks 31 and 33 abandoned on 10 January. Artillery and rocket barrages were still falling in the area.

14 January 1945

The day was spent in the maintenance of all vehicles.

15 January 1945

The weather became very cold and made the starting of the engines very difficult. The tanks were cleaned on the outside and prepared for painting white as a camouflage with the snow. All the 1st Platoon tanks and 21 were painted.

16 January 1945

All vehicles had their engines started after 2400 of the 15th as a protection against the freezing weather.

The line platoons were alerted and moved out around 1500. The 1st Platoon was assigned to the 359th Inf. Regt. as a mobile reserve and moved to Wardin, Belgium (590-565). The 2nd Platoon was held in reserve at Sonlez, Luxembourg- (633-532), with the 358th Inf. Regt.

The 3rd Platoon was attached to the 3rd Bn., 357 Inf. Regt. as a mobile reserve and moved to Bras, Belgium (627-558).

[The next four days are from the battalion after action reports]

17 January the Company Headquarters section moved with Battalion at 1016 to Sonlez, a distance of 6 miles. They arrived at 1145.

The 1st Platoon remained in control of the 3rd Battalion, 359th Infantry Regiment as a mobile reserve. They moved to Benonchamps, Belgium and took up defensive positions (620-574).

The 2nd Platoon was relieved from the 358th and reverted to Company control.

The 3rd Platoon remained attached to the 357th, 3rd Battalion at Bras, Belgium, and held as mobile reserve.

18 January the tanks from the 2d Platoon and the vehicles from Headquarters Platoon changed from 30 oil to 10 oil because of the coldness.

19 January the 1st Platoon remained in reserve at Benonchamps.

The 2d Platoon relieved the 3rd Platoon at Bras around 1130, the 3rd Platoon returned to the Company area at Sonlez, Luxembourg, performed maintenance, and changed from 30 to 10 grade oil because of the extreme coldness.

Quite a bit of snow had fallen during the early morning and drifts were encountered 2 and 3 feet deep in the area near Bras, Belgium. At some places the roads were temporarily blocked.

21 January all platoons returned to Company control. The next day a V-1 buzz bomb flew over the area at 0715 and others passed over the area around 1600.

The Company moved with Battalion from Sonlez to Derenback, Luxembourg (674-590), a distance of about 7 miles. The area was cleared at 1200 and the new area reached at 1400. Progress was slow due to heavy traffic of convoys and moving equipment.

23 January the company moved with Battalion to Rumlange, Luxembourg (740-660). At this place there was a bit of artillery that fell in the vicinity, small arms fire was heard, and two of our planes were shot down in the vicinity.

At around 1900 the 3rd Platoon was assigned a mission to move to Asselborn, Luxembourg (740-877), and serve as a mobile reserve for the 357th Infantry Regiment, along with tanks from Co. “C.”

26 January the Company prepared to move with Battalion at 1200 and cleared the area at 1415. The 3rd Platoon joined at convoy at Asselborn, having been relieved of their assignment. Roads again were jammed with moving equipment and convoys. The new area at Trois Vierges, Luxembourg was reached around 1440.

27 and 28 January the painting white of vehicles was resumed but work had to be discontinued on account of snow.

31 January at around 1700 the 1st and 2d Platoons with the CP and CO tanks moved to Lieler, Luxembourg, (837-709), and set up an outguard and a CP for the night. The two Platoons relieved the 90th Division Reconnaissance of its’ outguard. The balance of the Company remained at Trois Vierges.

Share World War II Oral History

11 February

SUBJECT: Company Journal

TO: Commanding Officer, 712th Tank Battalion

The following is a daily journal of this organizaiton from 1 February 1945 to 10 February 1945.

February 1, 1945

The portion of the Company remaining at Trois Vierges, Luxembourg, moved at 1130 to join the rest of the Company at Lieler, Luxembourg (837-709). They arrived in the new area at 1330, distance traveled about 6 miles.

The three line platoons were temporarily broken down to four platoons. All around security was maintained by means of outposts. At various places the enemy was so close that they could be seen by using glasses. Observation was very good at these points and many times direct observation could be made of our artillery firing.

Pvt. Szymasek rejoined the Company after an appendectomy.

T/Sgt. Dale S. Albee received a field commission as of this date.

The maintenance tank was returned from Ordnance where it had new engines installed and other repairs made. It had been gone for over three weeks.

2 February 1945

Around 0400, a German light bomber flew over the area at house top level.

At various times German artillery landed within 300 to 400 yards of the area. No damage was done.

A check was made of the number of P.W.’s taken, and guns and vehicles knocked out by the Company. The tally by Platoons follows as close as can be determined by previous record, but is likely to be understated:

P.W.’s 1st: 47, 2nd: 87, 3rd: 42, Hq.: 4, Total 170

20 mm towed antitank guns: 1st: 2, 2nd: 3, 3rd: 3 Total: 8

Mark V tank: 1st: 1 Total: 1

Horse-drawn vehicles 2nd: 5 Total: 5

Trucks: 2nd: 1 3rd: 2 Total: 13

Coupes: 2nd: 1 Total: 1

Ack-ack guns: 3rd: 1 Total: 1

Misc.: 1st: 1 Mortar Platoon complete

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Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Considering that I didn’t begin interviewing World War 2 veterans until 1987, some 42 years after the war, it only makes sense that I interviewed a number of veterans who were playing hide-and-seek with the Angel of Death. There was Joe Bernardino, who had just arrived home from the hospital when I called him on a whim because he lived in Rochester, N.Y., and I was in the area. There was Samuel Feiler, the 101st Airborne dentist who was on meds and was a little loopy and in a very good mood but his wife, whom he met in London after D-Day and married before Operation Market Garden, was there to jog his memory. And there was Andy Schifler.

Andy called me in 1995 on the toll-free phone number I got to boost sales of the first edition of Tanks for the Memories. He wasn’t calling to talk to me or to order a book, but he saw the number in the 712th Tank Battalion newsletter and wanted to give Paul Wannemacher, the battalion association secretary, an update on his health.

He said he went into the hospital for cancer surgery. Two hours after he came home, his wife died. Then his doctors found a tumor in his head. They operated, and he lost his sight. Eventually, 28 percent of his sight came back.

I couldn’t take much more.

“What company were you in?” I interrupted.

“D Company,” he said.

This was one of those situations where I knew I might not get another chance to interview someone. I very much regretted not trying harder to interview Vladimir Kedrovsky, the battalion’s third and final commanding officer, after I heard he had a stroke, and then he passed away.

“Where do you live?” I asked.

“Chicago,” Andy said.

“Can I pay you a visit?” (I would have to come out from New Jersey, where I lived at the time.)

“Sure,” he said. “Call before you come, to make sure I’m still alive.”

Three weeks later I was in Chicago. As it turns out, Andy’s interview is an important part of the project I’m working on through a series of Substacks, about the role of the 17-ton “light” Stuart tank in the 712th Tank Battalion, where the heavier Sherman tanks got much of the attention.

Interview with Andy Schifler

D Company, 712th Tank Battalion

Chicago, May 6, 1995

Andy Schifler: Pete Krolczyk, one of the boys, used to live down the block. I never saw him. You know, I feel so guilty, nobody ever got together.

Aaron Elson: Did you ever go to any of the reunions?

Andy Schifler: I had the one in Rockford, and Harrisburg. See, my wife didn’t feel good. I tried to get the boys, too, I called them. Everything’s happening today.

Aaron Elson: I know. I talked to Mauzer, and I called Hilding Freeberg. I’m going to see him later. He lives up north of here. I’m going to call him later today and see if we can get together. But I’ve got a feeling you’ve got some good stories to tell.

Andy Schifler: Oh, no, no, not, because we, most of us, the same guys stayed together, like Fletcher, he was my assistant driver and Charlie Miller, the one from Ohio, he was my gunner, and then O’Brient. We only had four men. [O’Brient was Lieutenant Lex O’Brient, the platoon leader.]

Aaron Elson: Four in a crew. You were the driver?

Andy Schifler: Yes.

Aaron Elson: And you had that same tank for 4,000 miles?

Andy Schifler: 4,600 miles.

Aaron Elson: From England, or...

Andy Schifler: All the way from England...

Aaron Elson: Did you have an odometer? How did you tell it was 4,600 miles?

Andy Schifler: We had that speedometer. Every day we used to change our panels, you know, carry morphine in your hat all the time; we had to have it because you were away always. I saw my captain maybe three or four times during the war.

Aaron Elson: Now your captain was ]Alton] Wagnon?

Andy Schifler: Wagnon.

Aaron Elson: Your rank was what?

Andy Schifler: T-4. Then the kids give me a sergeant’s rating. See, I’m more or less, when we formed the 10th Armored I was driving the G-2 officer, and we’d meet all the trains that come in. They’d come in at night. We got about three hundred, four or five hundred men. It took a while. Like, little Mauzer and I, when we crossed the river and had supplies, when we were sleeping and driving in water, and it was cold. That’s the time when Sparks and I don’t know who else, they were bringing some wounded guys back, and us guys, Mauzer and I, we got to one of the pillboxes; it took us all night in order to get back. That was rough, it was rough. Then Mauzer don’t feel too good when I talk to him; he said he goes to the hospital every so often.

Aaron Elson: So Mauzer was on that patrol, too? [This was in the vicinity of Dillingen, when the battalion crossed the Saar River in early December of 1944.]

Andy Schifler: Oh yeah, he was with us supplying, but I don’t know who else went with Sparks.

Aaron Elson: So you were on the patrol that brought the wounded guys back?

Andy Schifler: No, Sparks was. And we were coming back from a pillbox that had to have whatever we supplied them with, then we were coming back.

Aaron Elson: With the wounded guys?

Andy Schifler: No, them guys come back, they were separate. We were like, Mauzer and I had to go to a certain pillbox, and these guys, Sparky and I don’t know, [Art] Horn was there or, I don’t know who all was with them. So they...

Aaron Elson: The reason that I’m interested in the patrol when you brought the wounded guys back... [my father was wounded on one of these patrols.]

Andy Schifler: Oh, they took care of those. I wasn’t there at all. We got on whatever boat they had to try to get us back, because they were just, oh in that area, they knew stuff was coming in.

Aaron Elson: And that was at night?

Andy Schifler: That was, well, we went out, it must have been about 5 or 6 in the evening. That’s dark already.

Aaron Elson: How did you get across the river?

Andy Schifler: Boat. We got across. But then when you get across you had to stay in water, I don’t know how many blocks, because the shells, every time they fall, they fall short, the enemy knew there was stuff going along there, see, that wasn’t only our boat. There was a lot of other traffic going. Then we got, what town, I couldn’t remember the town, all I was doing, I’d get the orders, and I’d just go. And we had two or three radios where you keep communication, you hear your captain talk to O’Brient, headquarters, the 90th wanted to know what’s happening.

Aaron Elson: O’Brient, did he start out as a sergeant, or did he come in as a lieutenant?

Andy Schifler: I think he come from a military school. He wasn’t a regular, no. When we got in service, there were all West Point officers. All cavalry.

Aaron Elson: Now, do you remember the battalion commander, Whitside Miller, the one everybody couldn’t stand? Whiteside or Whitside. He was the colonel right after you were taken out of the 10th Armored?

Andy Schifler: Miller, Miller. Was he a West Pointer?

Aaron Elson: Yeah, he was an old Army.

Andy Schifler: He must have come in in ‘40, or 39. But we did get some West Point officers. Then when the cavalry got together more or less, we started getting from military academies.

Aaron Elson: Do you remember the name Chamberlin?

Andy Schifler: Well, the man that was in charge of our cavalry, I’ve got the book but I don’t ... His brother was the chief of staff for the cavalry, retired chief of staff, and his brother was the lieutenant colonel. Then from there we went into the 10th Armored.

Aaron Elson: You know, what I’m hoping you can tell me, is something amusing, something funny about life in the cavalry.

Andy Schifler: (laughing) In the cavalry? We had all remounts. Horses that had never been ridden, or never shoed. Never had shoes on.

Aaron Elson: So you had to shoe them?

Andy Schifler: Well, our blacksmiths. There were regular smiths.

Aaron Elson: So what did that do to the horse? Did that make them ornery?

Andy Schifler: (laughing) See, we used to get, I don’t know, 21 horses or so as remounts, and you had to keep them away from the other horses for about a month. They were isolated. You don’t bring them right to the other horses. They have to be shod, but all you could hear was, us guys were a bunch of goofballs, we didn’t know what the hell a horse, you had to learn how to bridle them, had to learn to balance by falling backwards, learn how to sit on a horse.

Aaron Elson: I didn’t know this, you fall backwards?

Andy Schifler: You had to lean back, so your equilibrium, get the feel of the horse.

Aaron Elson: On the horse?

Andy Schifler: On the horse.

Aaron Elson: So did people fall off?

Andy Schifler: They had to, guys were watching, a general inspector or something, you had to jump a horse over a hurdle, blindfolded, no stirrup. Eighty percent of the guys went on the ground. But it’s a good thing it was sand. Because some horses wouldn’t jump. The horse that I had was a jumper, he liked to jump, he wouldn’t shy. Some of these others would come to the hurdle, they’d shy away and knock you off. Oh, we had, I had three Chinamen in my tent, they come in, in the cavalry, they couldn’t do nothing.

Aaron Elson: In the cavalry?

Andy Schifler: Yes. So I had them in my tent. There were four of us in a tent. And they’d be talking Chinese, one from, I think one was from San Diego, one from Los Angeles and one from Pittsburgh. My staff sergeant was the last American out of that 38th Parallel in China. He played that Chinese game with them. They used to take him, every weekend he went with the Chinamen. He’d play that peg game, I don’t know...and our first sergeant...

Aaron Elson: Who was your staff sergeant? Was that Seeley?

Andy Schifler: Stolid Camp Seeley.

Aaron Elson: Was that named after the sergeant? [Actually it was named after the whistlestop train station where the recruits were dropped off.]

Andy Schifler: That’s where, El Centro, it was about 12 miles from El Centro.

Aaron Elson: Do you remember your sergeant’s name?

Andy Schifler: Our sergeant was Roberts, first sergeant. He was a British; he was an Australian but he was a British officer for about 13 or 15 years, I don’t know, and then he got into our Army, and he was like 13 years as a first sergeant. He got out of it, I don’t know what happened, whether he finished his term or what. But he was a mean guy. I mean, he was mean. A rough man.

Aaron Elson: What would he do?

Andy Schifler: Ohhh, my, he bent over. He had a step where his tent was, he’d go all the way down to the floor with his mouth without bending his knees. Roberts. He was...

Aaron Elson: He could bend over and touch the floor with his palms?

Andy Schifler: The ground. About that high from the ground. But he was a rough man. They all, the officers, followed his instructions. If there was something wrong, they asked Roberts. He was a rough man, my god.

Aaron Elson: What, did he get into fights?

Andy Schifler: No. You couldn’t look him in the eye. He’d say something, and you think you’re gonna repeat it back to him. I saw him hit a guy, he went through two tents.

Aaron Elson: Really?

Andy Schifler: Yeah. He didn’t take no...But he liked me, I had it good. See, I had my brother was one of the first Americans in Australia, it took them 45 days, they looked at the people in Australia, and he knew that he was in his homeland.

Aaron Elson: How did your brother get to Australia?

Andy Schifler: Oh, 45 days on a boat.

Aaron Elson: What led him to go to Australia?

Andy Schifler: They went in to, to go to Guadalcanal and all that after a while. So, yeah, 45 days, and I don’t know, one of my best boyfriends, he was in the embassy for Eisenhower; he sent the message out for the invasion day, Kurtz, yeah, he’s passed away about four years ago, and he was, I don’t know, he was, I tried to meet him in England and we had that, we had to stay in our area, restricted, because we were ready for our move.

Aaron Elson: Now your brother, what service was he in?

Andy Schifler: He was in the Signal Corps. He left Camp Gordon. Yeah, when you got in a tank outfit, you were lost, because you were with the same crew all the time, see, when we were in the battalion, we slept in the tank and all, wherever we went, you weren’t in a group, you were always with your crew. That one time, the guy was doing a chicken and Patton come out to us, we were the furthest point, so he wanted to see what’s going on, and he says, “Forget about it.” The guy was laying down, “You’ll be on the move after this.” And sure enough, we covered 200-some miles that time, during the Ardennes. [This was when the 712th Tank Battalion traveled north to join in the Battle of the Bulge; the distance was closer to 100 miles.]

See, if we were in a bunch, you could talk. But during the war, you weren’t together. You were either on guard or on, and when them screaming meemies come in, that was the first time I ever heard them. That’s when we got tied up with I think the 82nd Airborne [part of the 712th was briefly attached to the 82nd in Normandy]; those things would scream like, (screeching sound), scare the shit out of you, and this was in the night now, when they did it. But you get used to it. And then, McNulty, and I think Jensen, that’s the tank that got hit, that intelligence said the French worked on that road, and these guys didn’t concentrate that, I don’t know how many miles, maybe 30 miles from Paris. They wouldn’t let us go then into Paris; they said they were going to let the French go in. I think we had our officer, a couple of officers in Paris already, intelligence. But that’s why they didn’t keep their mind on what they do, now here’s the tank, and one of these 88s, I don’t know, a couple hundred yards away.

Aaron Elson: And they didn’t see it?

Andy Schifler: No, because they thought the French...

Aaron Elson: They thought the road was clear.

Andy Schifler: And so, if you had some guys that were with you, you could write, a battalion that stayed on the front for about 298 days out of 310 days, there was only a few men that were left, I mean that didn’t get wounded. I think half of our battalion got Purple Hearts, I think half.

Aaron Elson: 498.

Andy Schifler: And with the battalion was I don’t think only about 1,100 or 1,200 men. Because we had four people in the tank, we had about 15 tanks, and then maybe two or three ...

Aaron Elson: And the ones who didn’t get wounded, a lot of them went, I won’t say went nuts, but got a little affected by it. Battle fatigue, I guess you’d call it.

Andy Schifler: Oh, I got a book, on that battle fatigue. I don’t know if it’s the Vets or the Legion. Anybody up to 200 or 240 days was completely fatigued. And us guys spent 298 days. And you don’t see that on the air or nothing. Nobody ever mentions it. That’s why they kept, Patton was gonna give a new division into our, instead of the eleven or twelve hundred men they wanted about seventeen, eighteen thousand men to replace us, and he said no, we’ll keep ‘em. But I can’t remember the towns, because all I would go, go this way, go that way. Then the little [Piper] Cub come around and he’d drop something or give you maps or something. But there’s a lot of credit to the 712th that they never got. Because you’re tied up with all the other groups and Corps, and they forget about you. It was nice of the 90th to take care of us. That time, they had one officer or two officers, an observer, and one of the other officers, and a new driver in a jeep, they told him to follow, they’re going through a minefield by walking. This recruit, and he knocked a tripwire or something and started running, and then he got all...

Aaron Elson: The jeep got blown up?

Andy Schifler: All of them. They didn’t have no jeep.

Aaron Elson: Now did you see that?

Andy Schifler: No, we heard. We used to hear a lot of communications, because O’Brient had to call Wagnon was on the phone, the damn thing, “What’s happening? What’s happening?” He was usually about 20 miles behind the line, with the headquarters.

Aaron Elson: And the radio would carry that far?

Andy Schifler: That time we were on flat land, didn’t have much terrain. When we were on the mountain, you know, like, somebody had, the Germans called us the forest mountain tankers. We went on a mud road, and a German farmer says “Nichts.” There’s no road. He says it’s only a walking trail. Then that disappeared. We come to a place where there’s a wash; we guided our tanks right down the wash, went down I don’t know how many feet down. Nobody threw a track. I’m telling you. We were mostly on back roads. That jeep that got hit, you know, stopped, in that town. They had the bedsheets out. They captured, I don’t know if it was two of them or one of them, the one I know that we heard, the German officers would come out of the woods right away, the people would, so he took them as a prisoner. He knew the Americans were coming up. But what the people were doing (unintelligible). They shelled that town for I don’t know, 12 hours, I think. One shell I think every 15 minutes, something like that.

Aaron Elson: Who did the shelling, the Germans?

Andy Schifler: The Americans. The town, because what they did? For having a truce and then attacking. That one day, in the morning, we would split up, go with the infantry, advance. The infantry wouldn’t go first. They wanted us to go at the point. We waited, waited, it was about 11:30 then. The guys were by the haystack, the mine didn’t sink down. Then we went, where the sun was on there maybe five or six hours, and we crossed that minefield; we didn’t even know it was a minefield. That’s something. Well, we were fortunate.

Aaron Elson: Do you remember the incident with the bedsheets, was that late in the war, near the end, when they put the bedsheets out and then attacked?

Andy Schifler: That was probably in the center, in the middle, because on one occasion, I know, one of the guys got shot in the first jeep. You know what the guys did? They were shooting the pigs and everything. A German had his hands up, it was an old guy, one of these Home Guards. They riddled him. You know, the guys are already, your mind was...This guy, well, anything in the way...

Aaron Elson: That was when the guy got shot in the jeep?

Andy Schifler: You’d better skip that. One time we were in an area, we were, resting. There must have been about, oh, I don’t know, maybe five or eight tanks. We were there for about four hours. And then one of my friends, Benda (James G.), he wanted something to eat, I said “Come up in my tank,” and I’m leaning out of the tank. There was an airburst or something, and as he climbed over, he got hit in the arm, instead of me getting hit right in the head.

I went under the tank, it’s that high. I looked in the tank. It’s all [scattered] rations, everything. So that was a close one. Benda saved me there.

Aaron Elson: Who was that?

Andy Schifler: Benda.

Aaron Elson: He was wounded?

Andy Schifler: Yeah. He got hit in the arm. See, the trouble is, certain platoons got tied up with the C Company a lot, and ours, we didn’t get tied up much, we were more of a loose outfit, go out to a certain point, you had a map, about six feet long and about two feet wide, you find what point you’re looking for. Maybe it covers an area about a mile or two miles or three miles. You go where the Cub or whoever took the pictures, then they relay it to us. But I remember one time we were on the road, and this officer stops us, he said, “You see my men up there on that hill, getting slaughtered?” So O’Brient, your job is to go there, your job was to go to a certain point. He didn’t go. Because that officer called for reinforcements, and reinforcements were coming up. Our business was to go to a checkpoint that was made out for us. They want to know if there’s any bridges, where the enemy lies. Our job wasn’t fighting. Our job was picking up information. Any information. We had a guy, we picked up a guy you said, “Where the hell were you the last two days?” He was dropped off from an airplane, wanted to know how many bridges were left. There weren’t any bridges left.

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Aaron Elson: But that’s what they did, they dropped him out of a plane, so he could see?

Andy Schifler: You know, we would have had to, this guy would have to report back, they’d send him right to the intelligence, there’s no bridges. They wanted to know what...You know, I could have had beaucoup of cameras and that, every town we come to, everybody had to bring in cameras, guns, and then we’d vacate, and the military government would step in. They had to put that in right away. They knew when they had to have MPs with you, so we had maybe a few of them on the tanks. Their job was to get in there and straighten out the civilians, put the law in. But you’ve got to give those MPs credit, they weren’t the MPs that were in the rear echelon, these were fighting MPs.

Aaron Elson: Did you grow up in this area?

Andy Schifler: Yeah. No, I lived here about 46 years. My wife came here when she was 11 years old, in 1928. She just passed away two years now.

Aaron Elson: What was your wife’s name?

Andy Schifler: Mary. I have her picture in the book that we have, we took pictures in Harrisburg that time. Mike Solomon, he was there, he was the first guy I met.

Aaron Elson: He must have been a character.

Andy Schifler: Oh, he was, that Mike...

Aaron Elson: You know, he won’t say a word, he won’t talk about the war.

Andy Schifler: I won’t even talk about the war. My grandchildren, I never talk about it. I just put those pictures up about a year ago, after my wife passed away. It was up in the attic, and so I put that up. I figure that’s the only thing I have to show if I pass...My boy lives about a block and a half from here, and his in-laws live right across the street. They were feeding me, because I couldn’t see those months. And he comes once or twice a week, he’s so busy, tied up, he’s with baseball here at the park. We had three fields we took care of; now we have a field out in Jackson Park right by the lake, that’s for Mount Carmel. They have some doings, I don’t know if that’s today, a banquet or baseball doing.

Aaron Elson: What does he do, your son?

Andy Schifler: He’s with AT&T. He’s putting up a new communications center in Rolling Meadow. He’s been working out there with this benefit organization for all retirees, 140,000, so he’s a specialist now in I guess communications, setting up a, a braintrust, from all over the world he has people come over.

Aaron Elson: I have so little material on D Company, and also on B Company. When the book came out I got a letter from somebody in B Company, and he was very upset, because here it was very important to him...

Andy Schifler: I know what you mean.

Aaron Elson: And I didn’t really think that much about it. The people that I knew from the reunions, I used their stories, and it happened to be mostly A Company and C Company.

Andy Schifler: They were replacing, I don’t know how many men they lost. I think they lost mostly all the officers.

Aaron Elson: A Company went through lieutenants, my father was one. He lasted a few weeks.

Andy Schifler: And most of the sergeants were replaced. The tank crews, I don’t know how many they lost. You know, the mediums had to go in all the time. If we get stopped, we’d call for air force or artillery, or we’d call for C Company or B Company to bring something out. If we had to move any guns, they used us. Most of the time we moved nights. We never slept. I never slept. Very seldom. I never slept. Even now, I don’t sleep.

Aaron Elson: You have to sleep sometime. But that must have been amazing, being on the front all the time like that.

Andy Schifler: I had guys sitting on this side, guy sitting on this side, move to the left, move to the right. I didn’t see nothing. You didn’t see where you were going. Maybe you covered five miles in six, seven hours.

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Aaron Elson: Did you have a periscope, or something you could look out?

Andy Schifler: Yeah, but at night you didn’t need that. Ninety percent of the time I always had it open. But when you come to a hot spot you had to bring it, because the gun would have to traverse, and if you got that lid up, them guys in the turret, they could do it. No, I had, I was in the tank the whole winter. The only hot spot was the transmission, that’s where I’d keep my C rations, when I wanted something warm.

Aaron Elson: It got real cold, didn’t it?

Andy Schifler: Ohhh, ah, that’s cold. See, that’s when they didn’t want to change, put new men in. He knew what he had. Everybody had a sense already. One time O’Brient says, “Get in there,” so I went into a little open spot, and I could see to the left of me, maybe two, three hundred yards away. We’re there about an hour and I’m watching, finally I see something moving way out. I said “O’Brient, look over to the left...”

Tape 1, Side 2

Andy Schifler: ...We’re being about surrounded now, because they’re coming from that side. I says, “Looks like we’ll have to move or they’re gonna get us.” He said, “Go to your left when you get out.”

I said, “No, I’m going to my right.” I remember. What I see, I remember. Because he didn’t know that, I’m the driver, I know where I’m going. That was a hot one that time.

When we got hit, we come to this one town, O’Brient says, “Park on that corner.” No sooner I parked on that corner, than an 88 opened up. I didn’t even hear the shot. I heard the building falling apart. The heart pounded so loud, somebody’s hollering “Shut up! I want to hear.” But everybody’s heart was pounding. I backed out of there in a hurry. Ah, I was lucky.

Aaron Elson: The building that you were parked next to...

Andy Schifler: I didn’t hear the shot, I heard the building, that’s how close, we used to figure out, when you hear the shot, you could just about time it, how far away it came. You were already trained for that, too. You know, everybody...

Aaron Elson:: Started cursing? They were cursing each other?

Andy Schifler: Yeah.

Aaron Elson:: It sounds like you were angry rather than afraid, maybe.

Andy Schifler: I was. It’s a funny feeling. But you get, the time we were laying in a building, sleeping; we figured, they said we’re gonna have a company of infantry come in, it’s in the evening already. What town was that? Schipery or, like my name, Schiff-ari, I don’t know. [This is where Andy earned the Silver Star. More on that later.] Well, we had the tanks on that corner; we figured everything’s gonna be nice. It got dark. Ssshhp. They blew up one tank, they burned the other one. I ran around, I got into my tank, and drove that out of the barn, because we had two tanks I think in the barn. Then I got around, I got back where I could get O’Brient and my gun crew. Then in the meantime the other guys had already started theirs, and then our infantry come from the, there was only one way they could get out, and that’s the way they got out, the way they come in. It was youths, mostly youths.

Aaron Elson: The Hitler Youths?

Andy Schifler: Yeah, and they had bazookas, what do they call them?

Aaron Elson: Panzerfausts?

Andy Schifler: There was one town, we got in there, we got the Hitler Youths. The people in that town nearly killed them, we had to stop them. I said how come? He said, “We’d walk on the sidewalk, they’d knock us off.” They had to go in the street. The Germans. That’s how these kids were trained. Half the Germans didn’t want them.

Aaron Elson: So then what happened after, you captured some of the Hitler Youths?

Andy Schifler: We kept going. Our job was just to keep going. Up in that mountain, we come to that town, I don’t know, a health resort or something for the Germans they had. We come to it. One guard hands the gun to us. We kept going. We had to go, because we had some infantry on us, and we had to go to a certain...So we knew the infantry’s coming up by truck, they’re gonna stop in this convalescent area, so that’s all I...We never came back to the same spot, never. Once you were gone you’re gone. You tell that to somebody, some guy says, oh, you know, “I’ve fought from Chicago to Los Angeles and back in enemy territory, never, no Americans. Which was true. You know how many people we picked up, prisoners of war, or like these Allies that were taken in the, you know, that mine, where all that buried treasure was. [The Merkers salt mine, which was depicted in the movie Monuments Men]. We were close there, but they let the other team go in. And there was billions of dollars in art and gold. That was true. That was true, because the people that we picked up that were working down there, all that gold, oh, I don’t know, and we were this close by, we could have gone there, but they said no, we’ve got to go.

Like in Paris, we should have gone into Paris. That was wrong by letting the French take credit. We even killed a French woman; she was doing, when we hit Normandy, she was doing spy work, sending messages. They shot her right there. She was directing cannon, artillery on you.

Aaron Elson: Who was it who, did they execute her or did they...

Andy Schifler: They shot her...

Aaron Elson: From the tank, or from the infantry?

Andy Schifler: The guys, he was a blacksmith, Miles? No, not Miller, well he was a farmboy...they were shelling like hell, and there’s three guys helping ... Mills. He died I think a year or two ago. He felt so sorry for that.

Aaron Elson: What did your father do?

Andy Schifler: My father came here, eighty some years, he worked for Kuppenheimer. He was a schlagermeister, you know, a tailor. A custom tailor, he wasn’t like production. Then the union started telling him they had, this is about maybe seventy-some years ago they had everything, so he went into the tobacco work, for Copenhagen, he went into that, and he worked for, he should have stayed as a tailor. The boys on Maxwell Street where we have our, it’s Jewish now, Mr. Grossman says, “Stay here, Andy, you could come every weekend.” Oh, you know, my father working in that, he started losing his feeling. He said, “You could stay here and measure off the pieces.” He should have, but...Ah, that’s...

Aaron Elson: He came from Germany?

Andy Schifler: No, we’re Slovenians. They migrated out of Russia 500 years, I think, out of Russia, into Czechoslovakia, Poland, Austria, down into Italy, then Trieste. My mother’s name is Droxler. She was a, what would you call it, her aunt, her mother died, she was ...

Aaron Elson: An orphan?

Andy Schifler: She’d become like an orphan. She had brothers, two brothers and a sister. She knew she had somebody but she never met them. The only time she ever knew she had a sister was after the war, my mom was about fifty years old and the sister was about 28 years older, never knew that she had, you know, they were sisters. That lasted only about two years.

Aaron Elson: Did the sister get in touch with her?

Andy Schifler: No, my mother was taken by the aunt, and the aunt brought her out to a farm, from the lord of the farm, and the aunt disappeared and the farmer was paying her, my mother never got a penny. She lived in the barn, and my aunt and another woman, they come to America, they were, same thing, they were like slaves or, and my father, his brother, and this other man, they sent the money over to get the girls. Lubljana is the biggest town in, this is, they come from around, what do you call it, my father come from Three Head Mountains, these were mountains in(?), and my mother come from the village around where there’s a church in the middle of a lake in the mountains, and that was all shot up by the Germans.

AE: How did they meet?

Andy Schifler: My father met her when he was down there, then he had to go to school to be a tailor, he had to go four years to Lubljana. Yeah, a funny thing.

Aaron Elson: So when did he come to America, your father?

Andy Schifler: It must have been about 1909 or something, because my oldest brother was born in 1917. See then, by the time my father got organized here, he had to get money, borrow some money, to get my mother over, and then my mom and my father, then they all lived together for three, like they do today, in one, my mother, my father got a job, my father was a tailor at that time. Then when my mother got, she worked for a while for (?) hospital, that was before she got pregnant. Then the oldest brother was born, he’d be 81 years old now, who knows, around 29th and Calumet, that was Gold Coast, see that’s where we were at. Then my other brother was born there, too. I was born on the North Side. My father’d become a flat janitor...

Aaron Elson: A what?

Andy Schifler: A flat janitor. But there was no elevator, and four stories, and all that garbage. But it was a good job, my ma liked it because the Jewish people, like the doctor was there. They fed her good.

Aaron Elson: Now are you Jewish?

Andy Schifler: Who knows? Maybe...Who knows? Pop could speak it now and then. This Jacob Kurtz, he was Jewish. Oh yeah, we had some, my brother had, when he moved, he rented, a lot of hotels in the cotton belt and he was a painter, and the family that had the hotels gave the business to my brother.

Aaron Elson: So how many brothers were you?

Andy Schifler: Three of us. That’s all. I was the baby.

Aaron Elson: Now one brother was in the Signal Corps?

Andy Schifler: The older brother. And my second brother was the one that was in Australia, Guadalcanal. We just about followed, see I’ll be 79 in July. My brother was in February, he was 80.

Aaron Elson: Were you drafted, or did you enlist?

Andy Schifler: No, I enlisted. My draft board was rotten.

Aaron Elson: How was that?

Andy Schifler: My brother got called in; I figured I might as well go in, about a week or two after he went. But he put me under a draft. I never was called in. But they caught this guy later from the draft board, when I was in the cavalry, that he was taking money and keeping the other guys from going in.

Aaron Elson:: That’s the first time I heard of anything like that.

Andy Schifler: My brother with the short foot, they tried to draft him in. One foot was about three inches shorter than the other.

Aaron Elson: That was the middle brother?

Andy Schifler: The oldest one. He had a diploma, diesel. He went to school for diesel, he went to (?), they wouldn’t hire him. They said they trained their own people. That’s before the war, back in ‘34, ‘35.

But my mother lived to be 94 or 95, she died about three years ago. She was out in Tampa, with her daughter in law. My brother died in ‘79; he had two pacemakers, he was playing cards, and the other guy smokes like a steam engine. He said, “If I’m gonna die...”

Aaron Elson:: You must have smoked during the war.

Andy Schifler: I smoked during the war, because the fellows I knew, one would say, “I ain’t talking to you.” Then the other guys would be burned up because I gave you the cigarettes. I smoked until 1952.

Aaron Elson:: What made you quit?

Andy Schifler: I just quit. Then I lost my hearing on one side, and I figured I’d better stay off the cigarettes.

Aaron Elson: Were you married during the war?

Andy Schifler: I got married May 18 coming up, it would be 48 years, 49 years.

Aaron Elson: How did you and Mary meet?

Andy Schifler: We ordered coal. We went to a coal dealer...

Aaron Elson: Her father?

Andy Schifler:Her father. Bootleg coal. It was out of a mine. He’d bring it over to the apartment building, he got like six dollars a ton.

Aaron Elson:: Your dad was a janitor at that point?

Andy Schifler: No, but we knew him by having coal. And he wanted us to marry, like the gang, my father, my uncle, and Mr. (?) and all these guys were a gang like, and he wanted one of the Gypsies to marry the daughter, because this youngest girl married Kitts(?), and he belonged to that (?) too. Because then, I wrote a couple of letters during the war to her, and I come back from the war, I made a date, I’d seen her about a half an hour, I was engaged. She liked me, her father... [You’ll notice all the question marks. This is because at this point in the interview, Andy and I are in a restaurant having lunch!]

Aaron Elson: Did she write to you during the war?

Andy Schifler: A couple of times. But we were scattered so much, you couldn’t, it wouldn’t pay...

Aaron Elson: Did you write to your folks?

Andy Schifler: Once in a while, but I didn’t want to, see, when I left to go in the Army nobody saw me off, I just got on a streetcar and took off. I come back home, did the same thing, got out of camp, got on an electric, one of these el trains or whatever, and I come back home. There was no...

Aaron Elson: Now how did you wind up in the cavalry?

Andy Schifler: They wanted men. We were to go to the Philippines, and we had to have all the horses trained for the tropics. That’s why they had us down in that desert, 130 degrees. I was lucky I didn’t go there, because one of my friends, he got caught when they took him as prisoner, the Japs captured, he made that march, and then when he got released from the hospital after the war, he lived I think two or three years after that; he died. He got married, couldn’t work. Most of us guys that were in the Army, I would have had to go, but this guy’s brother was a chief of staff, retired, and he knew what’s happening; he wouldn’t have sent his brother...We were alerted twice, we loaded the trailers with horses, in the desert one time, that’s about 170-some miles to San Diego. They called that off. Then we were in the mountain camp, Campo, right on the Mexican border. We were loaded again to go, we had 70-some hours, they canceled that. We were lucky.

Aaron Elson: Had any of the older guys been in the Philippines and come back?

Andy Schifler: Not our boys. We were all European.

Aaron Elson: No, when you went into the cavalry, the oldtimers who were there already?

Andy Schifler: You only had a handful of oldtimers. They come from Monterrey Presidio. They sent half the oldtimers up to the mountain, and half the oldtimers in the desert. Most of the guys were 30, I mean 27 years. The guy that was a dogrobber for our colonel, I think he was a Filipino, and he had about 28 or 29 years, and he had to get, they were giving a, what do you call it, a pension, because he had 30 years to try to stay. He cried; he wanted to stay in, that’s all his life was, he was a dogrobber for the colonel.

Aaron Elson: What was a dogrobber?

Andy Schifler:: To take care of the colonel’s horse, and boots. That time, we got $21 a month, and we had to pay for ice, drinking water, we didn’t have no money. We didn’t have no $40, $50 a month. We had to pay for laundry. We’d change our clothes, you’d take your clothes and wash them, hang them up, a half hour they were all dry, you didn’t have no humidity.

Aaron Elson: Did your horse have a name? Did you name your horses?

Andy Schifler: I just once, I didn’t take a remount. Cy. They all had numbers. You couldn’t shoot that horse. A civilian had to shoot them.

Aaron Elson: Why was that?

Andy Schifler: They’d maybe hold a court martial. And maybe they had a few of these left when they moved from Monterrey, maybe we had another dozen for about a year. You couldn’t do nothing for a while. They tried. They broke one in for the colonel, they tied him up, they beat the hell, yeah, don’t get caught, you’d get about 20 years.

Aaron Elson: Really?

Andy Schifler: Yeah. Doing what they were doing. Two-by-fours. They broke him in...

Aaron Elson: With a two-by-four? Explain to me how they would do this?

Andy Schifler: Well, on the Q.T. [I should note that when I told Dale Albee, another ex-cavalryman, what Andy said about two by fours, he said there was no way. I would guess that a smaller piece of wood might have been used. But who knows? I initially thought I might have heard Andy wrong, but here it is in the transcript!]

Aaron Elson: But they were wild horses?

Andy Schifler: Yeah, but you couldn’t break them in. Unless you had to break them with a 2-by-4 or something. [This is a little better. He probably meant “or something” on the first reference.]

Aaron Elson: And how would they do that, they’d whack the horse?

Andy Schifler: Get a rope on him, they had something solid, so it’d come to the end, fly up in the air, and just drub him.

Aaron Elson: Really?

Andy Schifler: Yeah, that’s life. And you couldn’t do that. So you had to have them as outlaws, and they’d hold a court martial. Maybe got five numbers, six numbers. The government wants to know what happened to it. And the civilian that shot the horse has to account...

Aaron Elson: You’re losing me. Why would a civilian shoot the horse?

Andy Schifler: They wouldn’t let the Army do it. You’re supposed to be a lover of the animal. That animal has more rights than you. If you fell off the horse, they’d have to get the horse. They left the guy out in the desert.

Aaron Elson:: Did you ever have to take two horses at once, or three horses?

Andy Schifler: Oh yeah. When we were up in the mountains, you had to change horses, every so many, maybe you’d ride one hour and lead two. We had about, I don’t know, a couple of thousand horses down there, and you only had a handful of men, because they were figuring on going (?). You tell some of them guys that were in the cavalry, they’ll...

Aaron Elson: Were there any like special horses”

Andy Schifler: We had horses for polo, but these horses were in there before the war started. These were all the West Point officers, Spanish, they had one nice, you touch his rein and (?), and if you leaned over one side that horse would go that side. Yes, that horse would cost a fortune. They were all cavalrymen.

Aaron Elson: When you got out to the cavalry, was there any sense of history? Had they been in any of the Indian wars, or...

Andy Schifler: They’d been in the Philippines, they fought in the Philippines. They fought in Mexico, Pancho Villa.

Aaron Elson: In the Philippines, who did they fight against, was that the Japanese?

Andy Schifler: I don’t know, it must have been the Philippines, because on that shield it shows, the cavalry shield...

Aaron Elson: This was the 11th Cavalry?

Andy Schifler: The 11th.

Aaron Elson: Did any of the 712th come from the 7th Cavalry?

Andy Schifler: I don’t know, because I think most of them come from the 10th Armored, when we got formed, the 10th Armored, 18,000 men. Then we had to get all them tanks, but all the new tanks were out in England that we got.

Aaron Elson:: So when you went from being a horse cavalry to the tanks, to the 10th Armored, was that a good thing?

Andy Schifler: Well, that was better for me. You know, a horse is a mean animal, you can’t trust him. It’s different if you had the same horse every day, but you got horses that never, you know, everybody rides different. We broke one horse in, instead of putting the bit in the mouth, we did it the opposite. That horse would rear up if anybody did that. They spoiled the horse. See, we had those (?). You’d smell like the horse, you know, because the heat...

Aaron Elson: That must have been terrible in that heat.

Andy Schifler: Terrible.

Aaron Elson: Did anybody collapse from it?

Andy Schifler: Oh yeah. You couldn’t touch any metal. It’s that hot. A lot of guys would keel over. Because they’re up before 4:30 in the morning. I lost fifty pounds I think inside of a month.

Aaron Elson: Really? From the heat.

Andy Schifler: Sure. It’s altogether different. We tried to live on a quart of water a day. It’s rough. Yeah, people don’t know what you go through. See, a lot of these guys near the end of the war that come in, you had about a half a million or four hundred thousand killed. Actually in Europe they must have put it about two million they used. You had about four or five million behind the other two, for replacements. They tried to use the same men. You take a man off the line, he hates like hell to go back in. These guys after being wounded, they figured they were through. They come right back to the trenches.

Aaron Elson: They wanted to get back to their outfits, I think.

Andy Schifler: Well, the outfit needed them, because we lost a lot of men, too. We lost a lot of...

(here we left the restaurant where we had lunch, and returned to Schifler’s house)

Aaron Elson: What did you do after the war?

Andy Schifler: I was in construction, maintenance and construction. Anything new we’d be working on. I helped the electrician, painters, carpenters, you never were laid off. I was making more money than the guy I was working for, see, and that’s how I think I got cancer, too. I got something on the lungs I know.

Aaron Elson:: From breathing in construction dust?

Andy Schifler: Asbestos, and then we had asbestos tops, we were putting in, you had to sand them and varnish over. I’ve got three claims in already, one I think is from Minnesota, one claim from Pennsylvania, now they’re working on the other claim. It isn’t much, it might take five to ten years to get it. But it’s signed, the claims are in, ten percent was paid out already to me. The attorney I had, they’re good, they’re no trouble at all, I don’t even, they go out and get it.

Aaron Elson: Now we were talking about changing from the horses to the tanks.

Andy Schifler: (laughing) Let’s see, where’s the book on that.

Aaron Elson: Let me read this out loud... “Dr. Henry W. Wojtowicz, M.D., 4900 South Archer, medicine over 35 years in the Bergen Park area. Beloved husband of Emily (nee) Symanski. Dear father of Walter and Barbara Calpy, Fond brother of Charlotte, Dr. Bruno Uchsen(?), brother in law of Genevieve, the late George Wojciechowski. Funeral services were held Saturday, Aug. 9.

“During World War II Dr. Wojtowicz served as captain in the Medical Corps attached to the 712th Tank Battalion of the U.S. Army 90th Division. He was awarded the Bronze Star for meritorious service in connection with military operations against the enemy in France and much of central Europe.”

“Henry W. Wojtowicz. Dr. Henry W. Wojtowicz recently returns to the community. A 1942 graduate of Loyola University’s College of Medicine, he served his internship at St. Mary of Nazareth Hospital. Serving in the Army from 1942 to 1946, he was separated from the Medical Corps with a rank of major. He served in this country and the European theater during World War II.

“Returning to civilian life, he spent a year at the University of Illinois College of Medicine doing postgraduate work. This was followed by general practice in this community until January 1952. During the past three and a half years he has been a resident surgeon at the Veterans Administration Hospital, Hines, in preparation for the specialty of general surgery. He lives with his wife, Emily, and son Walter at 4023 S. Francisco Ave.”

“Vladimir Kedrovsky, who led discovery of German gold in a salt mine, measuring Eleanor Pettit for a suit yesterday.” [This was a photo and story clipped from a newspaper, likely the Chicago Tribune]

“Gold is gold, whether it is in a salt mine or a paycheck,” Vladimir Kedrovsky, former lieutenant colonel who led the tank battalion which unearthed the German bullion hoard in a salt mine said yesterday as he pocketed one of his first paychecks since returning to civilian life. Kedrovsky is back as head of the men’s clothing department in a retail store at Arthington Street and Holman Avenue. He lives at 1675 Filmore Street, Gary...”

Now I thought he worked for Sears?

Andy Schifler: He did, at that time. You know how Gary changed...

Aaron Elson: Yes...No, I don’t, but...

Andy Schifler: Goldblatt’s went out of business. That’s about the guys that were taken into the cavalry...

Aaron Elson: (reading) “Chicagoans train in desert. El Centro, Calif. May 30 -- Here, under the broiling sun of America’s hottest spot, the men of the 11th Cavalry, many of them Chicagoans, are preparing for extensive maneuvers along the border. For weeks on end, the sun pours down from a cloudless sky at Camp Seeley at the gateway to California’s great Imperial Valley. It is the lowest Army camp in the world, 50 feet below sea level, and is only 12 miles from the Mexican border.

“The observer is led inevitably to the belief, one without official confirmation, that these soldiers are being conditioned for possible service in the deserts and tropical heat of Central America. Any sort of work is impossible during the midday heat, and the Army day begins at 4:30 in the morning. Work is over by 11:30, and the afternoon is devoted to swimming, parades...”

Andy Schifler: That’s a lot of bunk! That’s a lot of...We had a lot of work to do!

Tape 2, Side 1

Aaron Elson: (reading) …parades, and the time-honored Spanish custom of a siesta.

(subhead) 140 degrees on rifle range.

“On a recent day it was 110 in the shade of the post exchange and 140 degrees on the rifle range by the river where the sun quickly made rifle barrels too hot to touch. Camp officers, however, say that the men are gaining stamina, “an ability to take it,” and that now with their 13 weeks basic training completed, they’ll be able to go through maneuvers without discomfort.

“Camp Seeley is a temporary camp used only pending the erection of a permanent headquarters at Campo, two miles north of the border and 2,200 feet high. Meanwhile, the men live under canvas, and at nights, with the sidewalls of the tent up, a breeze sometimes strays in to give relief from the heat...”

“Schifler brothers return to camp.

“The Schifler brothers, who were both home on furlough, have returned to their respective camps. Mr. and Mrs. Andrew Schifler, 1915 Loomis, held open house for the boys and their many friends during their 15-day furlough. Aside from the fact that ma’s cooking is incomparable, Private Charles, who is stationed at camp Forrest, Tenn., had another reason for enjoying his homecoming. Sophia Hoyt, 1318 Colorton, is the attractive reason. Amid cheers, tears and handclasps, Charles departed yesterday afternoon. Brother Andrew, who is stationed with the U.S. Cavalry in California, left last week. Friends and relatives are looking forward to their next homecoming.”

“Russell W. Loop,” this is GO526HQ 90th Infantry Division, 11 June ‘45. “Russell W. Loop, 36006295, Technician 4th Grade Infantry, 712th Tank Battalion, U.S. Army, for gallantry in action on 16 March, 1945, in the vicinity of Pfaffenheck, Germany, when the tank on which he served as gunner was hit and forced to withdraw, Technician 4th Grade Loop worked under enemy fire evacuating wounded men from the vehicle to a nearby house where he treated them. He then crawled under intense machine gun fire to reach and administer medical treatment to a wounded tank commander. Immediately afterward, he voluntarily accompanied three infantry men in taking a strategically located house, personally killed nine enemy, and helped defend the building against all counterattacks. His gallantry was in accordance with high military tradition. Entered military service from Illinois.”

Do you know this guy Loop? Do you know Russell Loop?

Andy Schifler: I did. He was our sergeant in our tank platoon. Russell Loop.

Aaron Elson: In D Company?

Andy Schifler: Yeah.

Aaron Elson: But he was in C Company.

Andy Schifler: No, we had a Loop. That was him. He was from Zona...

Aaron Elson: He lives in Indianola, now...

Andy Schifler: He was the guy that I think wanted to shoot O’Brient...

Aaron Elson: What? Go on...

AS: Well, he had the lead tank, he had to go first. See, Patton changed it, he didn’t want the lieutenants all being killed. So they put the platoon sergeants in the lead. Is he still living?

Aaron Elson: Yeah, he lives in Indianola. I was going to give him a call. I met him. This was a Bronze star that you got?

Andy Schifler: Silver. It tells you on that paper.

Aaron Elson: I’ll read this again, and you tell me what you remember of it. You were describing it before. “April 25, 1945, in the vicinity of Schafferei...”

Andy Schifler: ...When they hit the building on us...

Aaron Elson: “A tank platoon was counterattacked by 50 SS troops...”:

Andy Schifler: I don’t know how many there were, all I know, I come running around the back, round out in the open...Well, I figured, if they’re gonna get us, they’re gonna get us one way or another. I knew there were, our infantry was behind me and I knew the other tanks were maybe 100 yards away from where we were. So I went around and got into the, clear enough, because there was a big fire, I mean you could see, the building got hit, that’s how I got...”

Aaron Elson: The building got hit?

Andy Schifler: And I jumped without shoes or anything, I jumped out. I figured, you’d better get around. I did, and I got in the tank, and I drove out, and must have scared half of them, and I swung around and I went back and I picked up the lieutenant and Fletcher.

Aaron Elson: Fletcher?

Andy Schifler:: Fletcher. He was my assistant gunner. Driver and gunner. (Hugh H. Fletcher from Afton, N.Y.).

Aaron Elson: Now the tank that was hit, was anyone killed in it?

Andy Schifler: That was, no, one hit, and one was on fire. Two of them got damaged out of that. And the other three tanks, the one I saved, and the two on the corner from the other...

Aaron Elson: Had people been in the tank when it was hit?

Andy Schifler: No. Nobody was in the tanks. They were trying to attack that night. See, they figured they could do some damage. They must have known the Army company of infantry was over on that side, they come from the wooded side. Somebody was on guard, I don’t know if Horn was on guard or something, because you can’t do nothing, you don’t know at night, it’s dark, and when they started, then you got the lights, because the tank was burning...

Aaron Elson: Okay... “At risk of his life, Technician 4th Grade Schifler raced through a hail of fire...”

Andy Schifler: Don’t ask me. I tell you, there’s miracles, you wouldn’t believe. I was sitting in the tank and the guy was in the foxhole, and the medics was walking, was running up and down. The guy in the foxhole was killed, none of the medics that were carrying the guys got hurt. It’s, nature or something takes care of you. Figure that. You’d be surprised how some of this happens. Your mind’s nowhere, you know, to fight or that, your mind is, get out and get that, before they burn them or damage everything. you don’t, there’s no idea of you’re gonna do this, that’s why it’s buddy-buddy in the Army. If nobody went out, we would have lost all three tanks, and maybe got killed.

Aaron Elson: But it was you that went out?

Andy Schifler: Well, I was right there. I already had it figured. I figured when I put the tank in that barn, if something happens, we’ve gotta move. It sure happened. I says, “Protection or no protection, they’ll get in on us.” That’s why our 90th commander didn’t want to take no division or that, like Patton wanted to give him, because they hadn’t been what they were supposed to do. Two men, three men, can hold an armored division back, right? Maybe for half an hour or an hour. Till they find where you’re at. You can hold a whole fuckin’ column. That’s all it takes. One man can...

That’s what they’re doing in, what is that, down in Yugoslavia or down in, they’re fighting out of the hills. How the hell are you gonna pick, you know, it takes a lot of men. You know, in that, that concentration camp, we were close there, you know what I mean, but everybody can’t go there. You’re with a certain outfit, you’re at a certain point, the closest guys go to the place. That’s how it’s ... that Schmidt we had, I don’t know what company he was in, he got shot up on one of our light tanks, he was riding on that, he knew there’s a, he told the driver, said there must be Italian mines, they were gonna go over on an island, it had blew up and Schmidt, he got got, I think he lost about three tanks or more...

Aaron Elson:: Schmidt?

Andy Schifler: Yeah. I don’t know what company. ]This would be Charles Schmidt of B Company, the battalion’s most decorated soldier.] He was out of a medium tank company.

Aaron Elson: Was he the one who was highly decorated?

Andy Schifler: I never saw him, after that, I don’t know if he got hurt, but he was on the front fender or something. We were getting reports, but now it’s 50-something years, you can’t remember that much.

Aaron Elson: But Schmidt is the one who was decorated?

Andy Schifler: Yeah, he was, I don’t think he wanted to be an officer. I don’t know if he made officer. I don’t know...

Aaron Elson: I think he turned it down.

Andy Schifler: I think he turned it, we had a...

Aaron Elson: Did you know him?

Andy Schifler: No, but I saw him when we got together once. We weren’t much together because the only time you had was in Metz, I think, when we ran out of gas that time. And then they pulled us, I’m watching them coming with these boats, these flat, what do you call those, invasion barges they had. Then the big fuckin’ guns start coming up. I pulled a, I think it was an eight-inch gun, I pulled that. The guy said, “You want to fire it?” Before the firing, he says to me, “You know, I’ll be a sonofabitch,” he says, “rear artillery’s about 20 miles away.” He says, we’re passing up the 155s, 105s, we’re passing up the machine gun nests. He says, “Where the fuck are we?” He told me this. Well, they were bringing them up to blast that fort they had. And this guy said, “You want to pull...” I didn’t know that the fuckin’ noise was that bad. You know, you get so, see, I lost my hearing after...I got up one morning, that was in ‘52 or something, ‘51, and just fell over.

Yeah. You lose your equilibrium. Yeah, it’s funny. I never talked about the war to the kids. They never bothered me.

Aaron Elson: They never ask you about it?

Andy Schifler: No, no, since I put that up, that was the first time, last year, it’ll be about a year now.

Aaron Elson: Now what are all these, we’ll go over that in a minute, let me read Wagnon’s thing here. Wait, first tell me about Sergeant Loop.

Andy Schifler: Ohh, (laughing), he come after O’Brien with a gun in his hand.

Aaron Elson: Really?

Andy Schifler: Yeah. He said, “You sonofabitch, you were leading me, now I’m leading...” that was the order. He was good, though. I think he saved our ass, Loop. The Germans, our unit, our intelligence didn’t tell nothing. We were about three towns ahead of the Army, or anything. They must have had a cavalry unit, not like ours, they come in and they blast the fuckin’ town before they go in, that’s what they were doing. And this nightfall’s coming, and I’m hearing guns, so I think Loop was sent back, I thought they’re gonna kill him, they didn’t believe I don’t think he was American in the first place. Somebody could have shot him. He must have had to put up a white flag or something, and he went out there and saved our ass so we wouldn’t get shelled on. See, you got all fuckin’ bad reports. Intelligence, somebody probably makes up something and you goof up. That was a shame. McNulty got killed and Jenkins, a nice kid, those four got killed, they burned up and shrunk, I know, he was hollerin’, “Shoot me. Shoot me.” He was out this far and he was burnt completely, McNulty. And the guys in there was shrunk.

Aaron Elson: Ohhh, and you saw this?

Andy Schifler: Yes.

[Russell Loop, a tank driver, was transferred to C Company, a medium tank company, as a gunner just prior to the Battle of the Bulge. Mike Solomon, another D Company member, also was transferred. It’s possible that Solomon is the one who had the altercation with Lieutenant O’Brient.]

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This is about half of the transcript of my 1995 interview with Andy. I have chosen to only lightly edit the transcript. I will post more of the interview down the road, but there are some other issues and events I want to write about before continuing with the work-in-progress. I will also be posting at least partial transcripts of my interviews with Dale Albee and Lex O’Brient.

This is Part 8 of “The Best ‘Little’ Tank Company in the E.T.O.” Here’s a synopsis in case you haven’t been following along:

From the D Company log:

12 December 1944

Pfc. Vincent returned to the Company in the morning. He had missed the last boat across the river in the early morning of 11 December, had remained at the advanced C.P. during the day, and had volunteered to be a carrier again that night.

The 1st Platoon was outposted around Kerprich-Hemmersdorf, Germany, to act as guard for the Division C.P.

A carrying party composed of 1st Lt. O’Brient, T/Sgt. Albee, Sgts. Radwan, Kovac, Ziebarth, Tec. 4 Borden, Cpl. Holt, Tec. 5 Harmon, Pfc’s Miller, C., Galbraith, Muniz, Pvts. Gordon, Seal, Widenhouse, Stewart, King, Parker, Russell, Williamson, Vydra, carried rations, ammunition, and medical supplies. Artillery and machine gun fire was again encountered, but the work was completed without any casualties.

The 8th Armored Group tank was taken across the river to be used as N.C.S. for the Armored C.P. located in Dillingen, Germany. The tank was floated across the river.

13 December

Another carrying party composed of the following men crossed the river: T/Sgt. Albee — in charge; S/sgts. Murphy, Reynolds; Sgts. Zimmanck, Morrison; Tec. 4 Massar, Borden, Loop; Cpl. Lazorjack; Tec. 5 Mills, Inga, Solomon; Pfc. Dye, Bourgeois, and Pvt. Jordon. This group made two trips to the advance C.P. carrying rations, ammunition and medical supplies, and made return trip with 3 litter cases. At one time the group was subjected to rather heavy artillery fire. An E.M. ]enlisted man] from Hq. Co. was injured by a sniper.

(After this entry, there are no new entries in the D Company log until January 8.)

From the Battalion after action reports:

12 December a platoon was detailed to outpost Division CP at Kerprich-Hemmersdorf. Another carrying party was furnished to carry supplies across the river to the infantry each night from 12-15 December inclusive.

17 December One light tank was ferried across the Saar for use at Battalion forward CP in Pachten.

20 December Two tanks were detailed to river crossing control point to cover the crossing of the Battalion vehicles from Pachten.

22 December The platoon guarding the 90th Division CP was relieved. The Company moved from Neunkirchen at 1215 to Kirchnaumen (056-896). The crews of the .50-calibre machine guns were returned to the company. During the 17 days in position vicinity Fremersdorf, they fired over 25,000 rounds across the Saar at enemy positions.

23 December a V-1 buzz bomb passed over area at 1630, going SW. It cut out and landed 5 miles from CP.

24 and 25 December 3 tanks were used to demonstrate the method of attacking pillboxes as part of tank-infantry team. Demonstration was staged at Veckring (015-830). Two tanks used for road reconnaissance in Battalion area. 27, 28 and 30 December one platoon engaged in tactical problem. Several enemy aircraft passed over area and were fired on by our .50 calibre machine guns.

On 1 January numerous enemy aircraft flew over the area at Kirschnaumen and drew fire from our guns. Several bombs were dropped in the vicinity.

2 January the 1st and 2nd platoons plus the tanks from Headquarters Platoon went on a road march to warm up the engines and lubricate all the working parts. The 3rd Platoon went out on a tactical problem.

6 January the Company with Battalion left the area at Kirschnaumen at 1530 and made a march of 51 miles to Rippweiler, Luxembourg, (919-225). The roads were icey and snow packed, but a rate of march was maintained at about 7 miles per hour. The Company arrived in the new area at 2320.

Once again, from the D Company log:

8 January

The Battalion moved from Rippweiler, Luxembourg at 1500, and made a march of 17 miles to Boulaide, Luxembourg-(618-448). Due to increased snowfall, snow packed and icey roads, about 10 grousers were put on each tank track. They were found to work very well. The rate of march averaged about 6 miles per hour, and the Company arrived at the new area at 1815.

“Now go forward to the Battle of the Bulge,” I said during my interview with Lex O’Brient.

“The Battle of the Bulge, okay, yeah,” he said. “I’ve got something real interesting. I’ve thought about this a lot. Colonel Randolph was our battalion commander, and officers had to take their turns to operate the telephone at night. And, okay, we’d been fighting up there, of course; how we got there, you know, we had gone to Dillingen down south...”

“That’s where my father was wounded,” I said.

“Really?”

“In Dillingen.”

“In Dillingen?” O’Brient said. “That was quite a place. We crossed the Saar River, and I couldn’t get across. We saw we weren’t gonna get across, so we parked the tanks and went over and helped as ammo bearers. I remember, I carried some of it, too.”

“That’s what my father was doing. He had just come back from being wounded in Normandy. He was in A Company, but he was assigned to lead a litter bearing party.” There was an aid station that they decided could not be defended, so they were going to carry the stretcher cases back. And he was wounded on the way back.” [actually he was wounded before arriving at the aid station, which was in a captured pillbox.]

“As I remember that, too,” O’Brient said, “there was a railroad bridge close to where we parked our tanks and we couldn’t get across, so we said, ‘Why not, I mean, we’re here, let’s do it.’ So we carried ammo all night long, till daybreak. Get that up there.

That town was part of the Siegfried Line, and I remember one thing, when I saw this, I thought, ‘Gee whiz,’ you know, like a movie theater, in fact that’s what it looked like, but it was a turret with a machine gun in it. And they were firing down the street. And he was pretty restricted; he didn’t get much of a field of a fire, but he did have automatic weapons and they were firing down the street. So one of the gunners from whoever we were supporting, I don’t remember, we told him, ‘Hey, take one of those guns and blast that thing right out of the world.’ So sure enough, he did. He took it and turned that thing down and he hit that thing direct and Boom! No more machine gun. He just wiped that thing out. But anyway, that’s what we were doing there, and then the next thing I know, I was told to take the tanks and pull back. Don’t ask any questions, just do it. So we backed out of there. We of course couldn’t get across the river. So then we got back and we assembled, and the next thing I know we’re headed north, and I heard we were going to Luxembourg. So all night long, I’ll tell you, that was one of the worst rides I’ve ever taken. It was sleeting. It was snowing. Oh, it was bad. And the tanks were slipping and sliding all over the place but it took us all night long, up until daybreak, to get to Luxembourg. We stopped there and we had breakfast, rations and hot coffee and whatever. And then we started moving again, and then we got involved in the Battle of the Bulge; the airborne had been surrounded and cut off and that’s when McAuliffe said “Nuts,” he’s not surrendering. And I remember we were over close to Wiltz, and right now I don’t exactly have [the picture] exact, but anyway, it turned out that it was my time to show up at the emergency, the battalion headquarters, so I went there, and we were operating the telephone. There was no one else there as I remember, just Colonel Randolph and myself. And he was trying to get some sleep, because the following morning he was supposed to meet with, here again I can’t remember...”

“General Van Fleet?” I asked.

“General Van Fleet, yeah, he was one, right. And others. And so, I don’t know, he must have had a premonition. He and I were talking, and I remember one of the things he says, he says, “You know what? I’ve lived a pretty full life, and I’m not too concerned about myself,” but he says, “I sure will be glad when this thing’s over, then we don’t deplete our manhood, our young people like this.” And I don’t know, we talked about a few other things, I can’t exactly remember. Then I think he fell off to sleep there and he got up the next morning, and that’s the last time I saw him, because he went and had that meeting, and we were getting ready to move somewhere, I forget now, and the next thing I hear, Colonel Randolph got killed. And they told me that he was standing, one of the last people to leave the group, and he was still talking to somebody and they were right in the crossroads, and artillery hit him and that’s how he got killed. God, I thought, gee whiz, that’s awful. That shook me up too, because such a fine man, and having been talking to him the night before, I mean he’s laying there trying to sleep and get his thoughts together I guess for the meeting, and to hear something like that, you know, that wasn’t good news at all.

“Then, after that, here comes I believe it was the 4th Armored Division came in, and we kind of were on one side, or off to the side of them I guess; they took the main thrust and they went up there and they broke through.” [The 4th Armored Division was the first unit to break the siege of Bastogne]

“When it was so darn cold, we were down on the Saar River there, your jackets got real dirty,” Dale Albee said, “and you’d take a can of gas, pour it on the jacket, and get the grease out of it, dip it in water, and then hang it up to dry. I did that with my little tanker jacket, and about the time I got it good and wet and all ready to hang up to dry, we got orders to move out. So I just rolled it up into a little bundle. We headed up into the Bulge. It froze. We got a mortar burst, and that thing was up just high enough, and it was right up there tied on top. I had three holes in that thing, and I thought, ‘Oh, man, but I can repair that.’ I brought it in the tank and thawed it out, and unrolled it, Jeee-sus, you never saw so damn many holes, aww, Jeez, the tanker’s jacket was one of the warmest jackets they had during the war. Ohh, three holes, oh, I can fix that, boy, no problem. And then I looked at it, those three holes, it went straight through.”

“But wasn’t it a fire hazard to clean your jacket with gasoline?” I asked. “I’ve heard of other people doing it.”

“You bet,” Dale said. “It was a hell of a hazard but what else was you gonna do?”

“What would you do? You’d pour gasoline on it?”

“Usually in your helmet, and then a little at a time you’d go ahead and get it in there, and just be sure you didn’t rub it, so you’d start a fire. You’d dip. A few guys learned, do not rub like that, it causes friction, friction is a spark, and when it sparks it inflames the gas. What we’d do is, you’d dip it, and if it was too big, you’d take like an arm and you’d dip it in there, and just dip it, and kind of roll it until you got it real good and then wring it out. Gently. And then if you had any soap, try to get some soap and some water, and then rinse it out. And then air the living hell out of it. Because that’s the way, that’s all the lighter we had for our lighters. We all smoked. Whitfield and Fatima. Lucky Strike Goes to War and I never smoked a Lucky all during the time. They had Fatimas and Whit-something in the C Rations and in the K Rations. We’d swap our Cs to the infantry for their Ks, and once in a while you’d get a Chesterfield, but I never saw a Lucky all the time I was in. And I don’t know, if you could think, chopped eggs, you know those little cans of chopped eggs, pouring your lemon powder on it to get some kind of a flavor to it.”

Following is a excerpt from the after action reports for B Company on January 9, 1945, which is relevant to a key event in the history of D Company:

On 9 January at 2200 the assault units, the other two platoons (and infantry battalions) attacked to seize the high ground around Berle. Enemy opposition was severe and losses were heavy. Company Commander [this was Jim Cary] and a platoon leader were casualties. During the night a Mark V tank fired a flare which had a short fuse. Instead of lighting up the area, it lighted up the German tank. The first platoon leader opened up with his 76mm at 80 yards and destroyed the tank. The second platoon was given mission of protecting Division right flank.

“I’ll tell you another one I just happened to think about,” Walter Galbraith said in that 1993 interview. “I was thinking about the funny ones; I just thought of this. This is in the Ardennes; I think it was the Ardennes. [The Ardennes was during the Battle of the Bulge] We had come to this open, you could see for miles. And over here, this is the forest over here, I could see these Krauts going back and forth. I was admiring them for a minute. All of a sudden they stopped. They were Germans, and they saw us. And they started firing like hell at us. So the best thing for us to do was to get the hell out of there. So we come right around, we’re still facing those guys; we had these panels on the back so you could see us for miles, our airplanes won’t bomb us. We had these pink, orange [panels]. So we came around that forest like this and then we turned into the forest. In the meantime they’re shooting at us and they’re knocking the branches off the trees, and not hitting us. I guess they couldn’t get down far enough. So anyway, we finally get in, and we lost a couple of tracks, and we had to stay there all night, because our tanks wouldn’t move. So that night, they kept shelling, and I heard tanks moving, and I said, well, we can’t fight anybody in the dark, some kid with a throwing stick (a ‘potato masher’ grenade) could knock the hell out of you in the dark. And I said, ‘I can hear the medium tanks, I guess they’re leaving.’ And all of a sudden I saw a flame go up. I said, ‘There’s a tank on fire,’ and I says, ‘Shit, they hit one of our tanks.’

“We had turns sleeping, and I happened to be awake. Lieutenant Albee was sleeping, and I didn’t know where the other guys were. So I’m looking out, and I see somebody run across in front of the tanks, a silhouette, and I said Jesus, and I looked again, and the Germans had a different helmet; there was something about the hook or something on the helmet that got my eye, and I said, ‘Albee, Albee,’ and I woke him up. I said ‘I think those are Germans running across the flaming tank.’ And so he got his binoculars out, and in the meantime I got my turret turned facing right at that tank, and he said ‘Yah, they are.’ And so we started shooting. And I was firing the machine gun and the cannon, and he’s firing the 50-caliber machine gun on top. And we heard, ‘For God’s sake, stop firing, you’re killing your own men!’ And Jesus, my head shrank. I said oh my god. And then he got his binoculars out again, he said, ‘No, they’re Heinies,’ and he started firing again. And I started shooting like hell at them. And even then they kept hollering, ‘No, you’re killing your own men.’ And then all of a sudden we saw our pink tracer go this way, and then we saw a white tracer come back, and then we knew that that was the Germans. Because we had a pink tracer, and they had white ones.

“And when that came back, boy, we just bbbrrroom. Then everything was quiet for a while. I kept my machine gun ready for anybody who might come across. I’m in the tank, and someone starts climbing up the side of the tank, ‘Who’s there?’ He says, ‘Who’s in charge here?’ So I said Albee. I said, ‘Albee, wake up.’

“So he says, ‘I’m Sergeant so-and-so,’ I wish I could remember his name. He said, ‘I just got out of the hospital,’ he said, ‘I’m not worth shit.’ That’s how he talked. And he says, ‘You know what happened?’ He says, ‘You see that tank over there that’s on fire?’ He says, ‘That’s a German tank.’ I thought it was our tank that was really knocked out. So anyway, he said what happened was, ‘You know how we are in the dark, you can’t see shit.’ He said ‘I had to climb out of the tank. This German tank is coming up the road. I had to tap the guy on the back to tell him to turn the turret,” and then when he got lined up, through his eye, he just kept firing, and knocked the shit out of that tank.’

“So that was over. So he got off. A few minutes later, somebody else started climbing up on the side of the tank. And I don’t know what the hell, I was scared. I’m ready to throw a hand grenade back or anything they had. I had it all in my mind what I was gonna do. Anyway, it was a colonel. Now goshdammit, he gave us his name, I’m Colonel So and So, I don’t know today whether it was our colonel, Kedrovsky ]Vladimir Kedrovsky replaced Colonel Randolph who was killed earlier in the day] or whether it was an infantry colonel. And he says, ‘You know what happened?’ He said, had they gone by, he says this would have cut the whole advance. And that was it. And then he left.”

“Well, you know,” Dale Albee said several years after I spoke with Walter Galbraith, “the nice thing about it is that as you go through a tape with the people, all these stories that finally come together it’s like G-2, the piece here, a piece there, and all of a sudden you realize that well this had to happen because now I’ve got four people, maybe it’s a different version but you’ve still got that, basically it’s the same. This is the reason why I really wanted to talk with you because some of the stuff that you had talked about, it’s just an easy way to kind of fill in some of the pieces. Well, what do we do, go up in the Bulge?”

“Let’s go up to the Bulge,” I said.

“We was in Dillingen and pulled back across the river and then made the run up in there,” Dale said.

“How were the light tanks on that march, that 90 or 100-mile march?” I asked. “The medium tanks were all skidding off the road. The light tanks too?”

“Yes, same thing, see, because we had rubber pads on our light tanks, and rubber on ice, you know how they do. Yeah, we skidded and everything, but through the efforts of our damn good drivers we got darn near everything through. I know my platoon, we stopped at a barn, it was early in the morning, hell, it must have been one or two o’clock, and we stopped there and was gonna bed down for the rest of the night, and that’s when I got orders to report to, I think it was the 359th Battalion commander. And then we had to go on up on the line, so we pulled out and went there.”

“Is that when you went through Nothum?”

“M-hm. We pulled through Nothum. I had orders to go up to a crossroad and contact this commander out of B Company.”

“Cary?”

“Cary. That’s — let me write that down because Cary I have a story on him.”

“Jim Cary, C-A-R-Y”

“I was sailing down the road — Jim Cary — and I noticed this German tank burning right over in the ditch, and up ahead is a curve, and this captain stepped out and stopped me. And he said, ‘Where are you going?’

“And I said, ‘I’ve got to up to the corner and report.’

“And he said, ‘If you do,’ he says, ‘you’re gonna be in enemy territory.’ He says, ‘You’re on the front line right now.’

So I told him that I was supposed to come up, and he said, ‘Well, just pull on over here. We want you to guard the flank over here because,’ I think it was Wiltz was over on the side there. So I pulled over there. And then that night is the night that we had that firefight. And the Germans went between us and the tank, and they had the two columns, and the old German captain out there was hollering ‘Don’t shoot! We’re Americans!’”

“Now you say they went between you and the tank. You were outside sleeping?”

“Oh no, no, no. We were in our tanks. Galbraith was asleep, my gunner, and it just happened to be that it was my turn on guard, and I had a .50-caliber machine gun mounted on the turret of my tank. Well, between me and this burning German tank, this column, I could see them moving, and they was wearing the Wehrmacht hat, with the brim. And Americans don’t wear brimmed hats; they wear the helmet. So I opened up. I hollered at Galbraith, I opened up with my .50 and he jumped in on the coaxial .30, and we started firing this way. We got white tracer coming back at me this way. All of a sudden behind me I get white tracer coming at me too, and then my second tank starts red tracer. And what we had was two columns. One was between me and the burning tank and one was between me and my second tank. And then out here in the distance came this voice, ‘Don’t shoot! We’re Americans! I’m an American captain! You’re killing your own men!’

“Americans don’t fire white tracer. So we continued firing on them.”

“But that must have made you think for a second,” I said.

“No, no, uh-uh,” Dale said. “You don’t stop and think. See, in the first place, the minute you saw that first white tracer, as soon as I saw those caps, no American cap was gonna be out there with Germans and it had to be Germans to do it. Because they had that long brim on the Wehrmacht hat. So we just kept on fighting. And then later on they gave up and came in. And I forget how many we captured and how many we killed, but this was a German captain that could speak English that we got.”

“And you captured him?”

“Yeah. We got him. I think, if I remember right, I think we killed 20 that night.”

“Now Galbraith said that right after that, somebody else came up to the tank and it was a colonel, an American colonel?”

“I don’t know. One that came up was a .50-caliber machine gun that was dug in in the road right beside my tank, and he didn’t fire a shot. And later he apologized to me and I said, ‘I don’t blame you a damn bit.’ With all the stuff that, if he’d have stuck his head up there he’d have got killed. And so I didn’t blame him.

“On this story, I had told this story to my two sons, and when we went back to Fort Knox to the reunion [most likely the 1988 reunion], we were sitting at the table and my son who was in the Navy at Norfolk, and my younger son who was in basic training at Fort Knox all came to the reunion. And we were sitting at this table, and across from me this guy says, ‘You know,’ he said, ‘I wonder who ever took,’ he says, ‘You’re from D Company,’ he says, ‘whoever took over Coe’s platoon?’

“And I said, ‘I did.’

“And he says, ‘You know, I’ve always wondered,’ he says, ‘I was up on the line and here came this stupid ass down the line with these tanks, he only had four of them,” and he said, “he’s on his way up into the German lines when I stopped him.’

“I said, ‘Oh?’

“And he says, and my two kids are about to crack up, he says, ‘Yeah,’ he says, ‘you know, I never knew what happened, because about fifteen minutes after that I was wounded, and I went to the rear and I never did find out.’

“And I looked at the two kids and kind of grinned at them and they grinned back, and I says, ‘You know, you’re looking at that stupid ass.’ I says, ‘I’m the one that was in those tanks when you stopped us right up there.’ I says, ‘You had that German tank burning, didn’t you?’

“He says, ‘Yeah. Well I always wondered,’ he said. But the reason is, the kids, they was real interested in the war and it just kind of, you know, brought it out, well, Dad kind of told the truth once in a while.”

Roll over, Rashomon. In Walter Galbraith’s version of the firefight, he was on guard and woke Albee up, while in Dale Albee’s version, he was on guard and woke Galbraith up. Yet both concurred on the identification of the Germans by the hats they were wearing and the color of the tracer bullets they were firing.

From the D Company log:

9 January 1945

Lt. Col. George B. Randolph, Bn. C.O., was killed in an artillery barrage at Nothum, Luxembourg. He had joined the Battalion on 6 June 1944.

The 3rd Platoon under the command of T/Sgt. Dale S. Albee left the area at 0900 and reported to the 90th Division C.P. for further orders. They contacted the 359th Inf. Regt. C.P. at Mecher-Dunkrodt, waited until 1130, and were ordered to take the tanks through Nothum (670-506). Here they encountered intense artillery fire. About 1 mile N.W. of Nothum a concentration of enemy machine gun fire was met. The C.O. of the 2nd Bn. 359th Inf. Reg. and the C.O. of “B” Company, 712th Tank Bn., were contacted and the Platoon was assigned to guard the Bn. advanced C.P. At about 1630 a Mark V tank was knocked out by a “B” Co. tank just to the front of the C.P. Around 1730 two columns of German Infantry approached the C.P., one column on each side. They were halted and when they started running for cover, T/Sgt. Albee directed fire on them. During the firing a voice was heard calling on one side, “Stop firing, for God’s sake stop firing! We’re Americans, we’re G.I.’s, returning from a patrol! Please stop firing!”

After the firing had ceased, the voice was heard again, “We’re Germans. We want to give up and be taken as P.W.’s.” Twenty-seven prisoners were taken and an undetermined number killed. Throughout the night the area was subjected to artillery and rocket fire.

10 January 1945

At 0800 the 3rd Platoon moved out as right flank guard for the 1st Bn., 359th Inf. Reg. and the 2nd Platoon “B” Co. in their advance through the enemy lines. Intense artillery and rocket fire was drawn immediately upon moving out. The advance led through fields flanking dense woods, and with the enemy having commanding observation. Conditions were such that it took approximately 3 1/2 hours to go 500 yards, as the ground had to be chosen very carefully. Everytime the tanks were in an open area they drew intense fire. It was found advantageous to remove the red panels from the tanks as they provided an outstanding target for enemy guns and observation. Cover was sought in the woods, but the density of the trees and the tendency of the duckbills to pull the tracks off made the advance practically impossible. Tracks were thrown on 4 of the 5 tanks. Work was started replacing the tracks at around 1130 and ended about 1715. Tracks were replaced on two of the tanks but tanks 31 and 33 had to be abandoned due to position, the need for a heavier towing vehicle, and maintenance trouble. During the working time, the men were subjected to intense artillery and rocket barrages. Four o0f the five tanks were penetrated at various places by shrapnel. Pfc Sluder was wounded through the back by shrapnel and was evacuated. Other members of the Platoon had clothing torn by flying shrapnel and were hit by falling pieces, but the injuries sustained did not warrant evacuation. Tree and air bursts were very numerous. The three operative tanks were withdrawn and set up as right flank guard for the Bn. C.P. that night.

The balance of the Company remained at Boulaide, Luxembourg.

“The next morning,” Walter Galbraith said, “we left the tank there I guess, and we got in a truck or something. The next day I guess we got in another tank. We had some guys underneath the tank, I’m mixed up on the time, the guys got killed who were underneath the tank, that’s where they figured it would be safe. But when the shrapnel went down and hit the bottom of the tank and killed them. This must have been before we went into that woods, I’m lost on the time. There were two guys, signal [Signal Corps] guys or something, they weren’t from our outfit. I can’t tell you when it happened, but it must have happened before we went in the woods. That’s where Sluter got hit, where the shrapnel came down and hit him.”

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This weekend I’ll be a vendor at the Berwick, Pa., World War 2 Weekend sponsored by the Stuart Tank Memorial Association. M3 Stuarts, some of which likely were used by the 712th Tank Battalion, were manufactured in Berwick. I’ve never been in a tank and I doubt I could even climb into one if I had the opportunity. One of the battalion reunions was held in Louisville and included a visit to the Patton Museum at Fort Knox, the site of the Battalion monument in the museum’s Memorial Garden. The veterans were as old then as I am now, and many of them lamented their inability to get into one of the Shermans that they could have gotten into or out of in seconds in 1944 and ‘45.

Before I follow D Company of the 712th into the Battle of the Bulge, this might be a good time to talk a little about the D Company veterans whose insights, anecdotes and elaborations have added color to the entries in the company log.

“When we were in Germany, I forget what part of Germany it was in, but we had [bombed the area] the week before that,” Walter Galbraith said, “and so some of the houses only had just a wall up, so the GIs put their bedrolls against the walls — it was in wintertime — to keep the wind from ... and so, anyway, the last man on guard, in the tank had to make sure that you pulled the ammunition off the tank. It was my tank, so I climbed up on it in the morning, and my eye caught the brass — who the hell did that? So I pulled it down.

“What I first went up there for was to check Little Joe. Little Joe is the motor that turns the turret; if you press your thumb on one side you start the machine gun, if you hit the other side you hit the cannon. So I got in and I saw that brass. I pulled it down and I cleaned out the chamber, I cleaned out the ammunition, and I threw it back in, and the breech came up. Now, if that fired, it comes back 18 inches. I remember when I came in there it was to check on Little Joe, so I reached over and when I did my hand came up, and I hit the damn cannon. And I could feel the breech coming like that. The periscope was in front of me, and I saw the road blow up. I blew the whole goddamn road up. And I thought, ‘Oh my god, did I kill somebody?’ That’s the first thing I thought about.

“So I reached up. I raised my seat, and I looked out, and I didn’t see anybody walking around with no head on, and I felt good, I didn’t care what they did to me, I hadn’t killed anybody. And all of a sudden the company commander, the first sergeant, all the guys are walking up to that big hole that I made in the road, and I figured, well, I’d better go face the music. So I walked up there, and I was just gonna say, ‘Well, that’s the way the cookie crumbles,’ and the first sergeant says, ‘Jesus. I drove over this road three times this morning and that goddamn mine didn’t blow up.’

“So Andy Schifler says, ‘That was no goddamn mine,’ and I grabbed him by the back of the neck, I said, ‘You shut up!’

“But anyway, what happened after that, at the same time, when the cannon flew out, some plaster from the side of the wall fell down on the poor guys who were laying there, and they thought the Germans had counterattacked, and so they jumped up and they were scared like hell.

“Another thing that happened, while we were in basic training, we had to learn how to ride a motorcycle, the tank, cars, so anyway, after we got familiar with it, it was the old tank, and when you shift, that’s with the rivets in them, you know, the old type, that was our practice, so you shift into first, second, third, fourth, by that time you’re looking this way and the tank is going that way. The only directions that the driver would have is that the tank commander would press him on the shoulder, to tell him to stop, right shoulder turn right, left shoulder turn left. So we had to go through this obstacle course with these tanks, and so each [crew member] had turns. I went through it, and then somebody went through it. There were two huge trees, great big trees, with just enough room for a tank to go between them. So anyway, when you’re driving, they said don’t stay in first all day, which some guys would do. As soon as that tachometer went so many thousand rpms, you had to shift. Anyway, the instructor’s sitting beside the bow gunner, and the driver’s going, and so he’d tell you keep your eye on the tachometer. So my turn came and I went through the trees, and I’m looking through the periscope, it looks like the trees are moving. So you’ve got that little spot like this. So I see these trees, and I come like that, and go right between them.

“Then this fellow got in, and we called him the Professor, I can’t think of his name, but it was his turn, and he, if you asked him a question, he’d say, “Well, uh,” it took him all day to tell you, but when he finally came up with an answer, he had a vocabulary that big. But anyway, it was his turn, so we get in the tank, and he’s driving, and we’re going, and the instructor said, ‘Keep your eye on the tachometer.’ ‘Ow-kay.’ He talked like Mortimer Snerd, so he’d go like that, and again the instructor said, ‘Keep your eye on the tachometer.’ So we went down through those things, and we finally come to those two trees. And I saw the tree move in front, and I thought at the last second he’s gonna pull on the lever and go right between the trees. Then BANG! He hit that goddamn tree, and ruined the tank’s transmission, and all the tree’s branches came down on top of us, I landed on top of the bow gunner, the tank commander landed on top of the driver, and everything got quiet for a second. And the instructor said something like ‘God damn you,’ I can’t think of his name. And he said, ‘Well, you told me to keep my eye on the tachometer, didn’t you?’ That’s about the funniest thing I can tell you, but those are the two things I can think of right now.”

“Where were you from?” I asked.

“Boston. I was in the 101st Engineers, with my brother and some buddies, and then I got out, because I had two kids, and then the Japs bombed Pearl Harbor. I got out, and my brother had to go overseas, so I joined the Army, and I got in the 10th Armored Division, and then the 10th Armored Division became the 712th Tank Battalion, so that’s how I got into it.” [The 712th was split off from the 10th Armored Division as a separate, independent tank battalion.]

“What happened to your brother?”

“He was okay. He got malaria, but outside of that, he was okay. I was glad that I joined, because I wouldn’t feel right, with him being over there. I had two kids, but I couldn’t help it, I just felt I had to go. As a matter of fact, I even tried to get drafted and they wouldn’t draft me. They even brought my wife up, and they said, ‘Do you love your wife?’ And I said, ‘Of course I love my wife.’ Then I said, ‘But I want to go in.’ Then they said, ‘Well, we won’t put you in this draft, but we’ll put you in the next one,’ and I couldn’t wait, so I volunteered.”

When I interviewed Andy Schifler, he showed me a book that was given to members of the 11th Cavalry. He pointed to a picture of Alton Wagnon, who would become D Company’s commanding officer. I remarked that he looked very young.

“I was a dogrobber for him,” Andy said. A dogrobber was an orderly. “He was an adjutant, and the sergeant says, ‘Hey, Andy, do you want to be a dogrobber for . . . all you do is just shine his shoes and fix his boots, and just bring the horse out for retreat. That was good. I bring it out and I follow him, instead of being in the line. But I only did that for a month.”

The books contained a history of the 11th Cavalry, which I read into the tape:

The original commanding officer was Harold M. Rayner. Organized at Fort Myer, Va., in March 1901, the 11th Cavalry received its baptism of fire before it had been in existence a year. The three squadrons under command of Col. Francis Moore, a distinguished veteran of the Civil, Indian and Spanish-American wars, were ordered to the Philippines during the winter of 1901. Squadrons were stationed at Semlar, Batangas and northern Luzon. All of the 11th Cavalry men saw action from 1901 to 1904. The regiment returned to the United States in 1904 and was finally assembled as a unit at Fort Des Moines in 1906. From there the regiment without the first squadron was ordered to Cuba as part of the army of occupation. The second squadron was stationed at Camp Columbia, and the balance of the regiment at Pinar del Rio. They returned to the States in 1909, arriving in time to participate in the inaugural parade for President Taft.

At this time Col. James Parker was in command. During the Mexican border trouble in 1911, the regiment moved from Fort Oglethorpe to the mobilization camp at Fort Sam Houston, Texas, and returned to Oglethorpe in November. During its stay at the Georgia post, the regiment organized the 11th Cavalry Hunt with its pack of English hounds.

Under Col. Parker’s command, the regiment attained a high degree of efficiency, particularly in all mounted works. In May 1914, the regiment moved to Colorado to assist in preserving law and order, returning to its station in January 1915.

Pancho Villa’s raid in Columbus, New Mexico, early in 1916 brought the 11th Cavalry onto the battlefield once again. And March of that year saw the troops move on to Columbus to form part of Pershing’s punitive expedition. During the period of the campaign the regiment set an enviable record both in action and for forced marches.

One squadron under command of Major, later General, Robert L. Howze, made a night march to Ojos Azules, arriving there at dawn, May 5, 1916, surprising the Villista leaders Julo Acosta, Cruz Domingez, and Antonio Angel, and killed 42 and captured several men and 75 ponies. During this engagement not a cavalry man was wounded, although several had bullets pass through their clothing and equipment.

It was the same provisional squadron which received the acclaim of the metropolitan press for its forced march of 571 miles through a mountainous country in 21 days on a five-day ration supply and without communication with the main command. During the same campaign Major Jenkins’ squadron distinguished itself by hard marching and by its rescue of two troops of the 10th Cavalry which had become engaged at Carozel.

During the World War, the regiment was stationed at Chicamauga Park, Ga., where the bulk of the command was transferred to form the basis of the 22nd and 23rd Cavalry, later the 80th and 81st Field Artillery Regiments.

In 1919 the regiment moved to the Presidio of Monterrey. In the intervening years it maintained a high standard of efficiency in training and athletics.

Arriving at Camp Seeley and Camp Morena in November 1940, the 11th Cavalry was organized into two line squadrons of three troops each. Each troop included three rifle platoons of three squads, a light machine gun platoon and a troop headquarters.

The regimental headquarters and service troop consists of staff and communications, pack radio platoons, transportation platoon and a platoon of armored scout cars. The machine gun troop comprises platoons of caliber .30 and .50 heavy machine guns.

Special weapons troop has 81-millimeter mortars and .50-caliber machine guns.

“Do you remember where you were when Pearl Harbor was attacked?” I asked Andy.

“Hell, yeah,” he said. “I was right on the border. We had to go from Yuma, Arizona, to San Diego that Sunday. Then we got all our machine gun belts loaded. We had to load up the belts, then I went on guard in the tunnel that goes down to Baja California and around into San Diego. The Mexicans were on the other side of the tunnel and we were on this side. I think I stayed a week was it? And we got our eats from the train that was coming out of San Diego. The train would stop and they’d give us our meals, and what we had left, we had a box, and we’d lower it down into the stream, that cold water coming off the mountains, and we kept our food, and gave the Mexicans, see the Mexicans had their wives, too. They’d give us Tequila or something [he may mean Tecate]. What the hell, we didn’t have no money, but at that time I was I think corporal or Pfc,, we were only getting about $30 or something a month.

“What was the mood when you heard about Pearl Harbor?”

“Well, I’d just about had, I came in February 28, I figured I’d get my year in. I had about nine months’ service.” Instead of being released after a year, the group that came in from Chicago was “in for the duration” once war was declared. [It might have been “the duration plus six months.]

* * *

“Being in the Army wasn’t my idea, but all my friends were being drafted, so I was too” Lex O’Brient, the Second Platoon leader, said. “I reported in at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. I had been at Duke University in the mechanical engineering school there, and they let me finish that off and then I had to report to Fort Bragg. I was put into the artillery, and I stayed there for, I forget exactly how long, but after that basic training, then I was put into the field artillery. At first they taught me the Morse code, and I learned that and then I practiced that quite a bit, and by the way, I was very fortunate because I reported in to a unit that had been in Hawaii. I was put into this unit that had been in Hawaii, and then I learned to be a radio operator, and then from a radio operator, of course I practiced the Morse code and learned that. Then I remember one of my [instructors], I was an enlisted man, and he heard me pounding on the key. Well, I come from a musical family. My father had a music store in North Carolina, and after school I would come there and help him clean up and get things in order for the next day. So I was doing that. But I was told later by this sergeant, ‘That’s one of the best, clearest hands I’ve heard.’ He says, ‘Have you ever had any musical background?’

“I said, ‘Oh yeah.’

“He says, ‘Okay. That’s why.’

“I took voice lessons from Joel Holland in Durham. I was in the choir, and I’d been in a quartet when I was in high school. Miss Hall was her name. But she was a wonderful music teacher, and then I learned to really develop my voice, and then I took piano lessons. My mother insisted on that. She says, ‘I want you to play the piano.’ And I couldn’t have had a better teacher. The lady that I took lessons from, she played the harp. But anyway, you say how did I get into this? All right, I was drafted into the Army. I took basic training at Fort Bragg.”

“This is before Pearl Harbor?” I asked.

“No, Pearl Harbor had happened. Let’s see, Pearl Harbor was December the 7th, 1941, so it was just after Pearl Harbor that I was called into service.”

“How did you go from the field artillery into armor?”

“Okay, this is what I was just about to tell you. My battery commander liked my attitude and can-do thing, so he said to me, ‘Listen. How about if I send you to officers candidate school at Fort Sill, Oklahoma?’

I said, “Gee, that would be great.”

“So he started the paperwork and getting things ready, and in the meantime the armor was beginning to take a big picture into things, so he came to me probably a week or so later, and he says, ‘Hey, how would you feel if you went into armor?’

“I said, ‘That’s fine, too.’ So that’s what happened. I reported in to Fort Knox. I was commissioned, second lieutenant-armor, and then, let’s see, for a short period of time I went to Fort Riley, Kansas, and then from there I went to Fort Benning, Georgia, and that’s where the 10th Armored Division was being formed at that time. So I went there, some more basic training, more gunnery, they had tanks down there and then, you’ve probably heard of the Chattahootchie, the river, so we were over on that side at Benning but the thing I remember about that so much was we did a lot of firing of machine guns, rifles, a hell of a lot of marching. Walking. And then, after that, I was there, and then, a short stint for some reason and I’m trying to remember why, Fort Polk, Louisiana, there was always a lot of cavalry down there as I remember. I didn’t stay there long. Then I went back up to Fort Gordon, Georgia, and that’s when they started to take the 10th Armored Division apart and started making individual tank battalions, and so I went from the 10th Armored to the 11th Armored Cavalry, like I say, all of that was a lot of movement and going around and organizing and getting things ready. I went to, let’s see, from Fort Gordon, then somehow after that training I went to Fort Jackson, South Carolina, and some more firing, and then, that’s when we left the tanks there, got on the train, the whole battalion, and we were told “Don’t look out.” In fact, they had the shades drawn so you couldn’t, so people couldn’t see, more security than anything, but that didn’t bother me. Then we left Fort Jackson, South Carolina, and then went to the harbor there at Myles Standish. We went in there and this is where we boarded the S.S. Exchequer.

“I wondered how that thing was gonna make it, because they had it double loaded. It had troops below and they had troops sleeping out on deck, so when the time came to switch around, the ones that had been out on deck got to go and sleep in a bunk and the others had to come up, I mean, it was, oh yeah, it was loaded. And I’ll tell you, that thing was so low in the water I thought this thing ain’t gonna make it. But anyway, okay, we crossed the ocean in a big convoy, I remember that one, and I’ve got to tell you something funny about Lambert Hiatt. He’s dead now, I know that. I was sure sorry I didn’t get to talk to him. But do you know, and this was funny, the minute Lambert got on board that ship and he lay in the bunk, he didn’t get up again until we got to the other side. So he would say, “Lex, bring me something eat. Bring me something to drink.”

I said, “Okay, Lambert.” And we hadn’t even moved out yet. I mean, the water was just sloshing against the side. I thought that was so funny, how somebody could get seasick and the thing isn’t even moving yet. And I used to bring him food. I’d say, ‘Well, Lambert, what do you want?’

“He says, ‘Whatever you can get. Just don’t bring me any soup.’ He was just bedridden the whole way. But he was a hell of a nice guy.

“So we landed in Scotland. Then we debarked there and then we went down to Chiseldon, in England, at Swindon. And then the time spent there was getting ready to go to Bournemouth, so most of the time, though, we were just doing things to keep us occupied and busy. We knew that we were going to land somewhere but where we didn’t know. The first big guess was that we were going to Calais, but we didn’t know that. General Patton and General Walker gathered oh, I don’t know how many men, I think we had most of the battalion there, and General Patton in his usual style, I mean, he made that four letter word presentation, and everybody was slapping their legs and laughing and clapping. General Walker didn’t have much to say. In fact, he did say a few words, but most of it was General Patton. That’s the first time I ever saw him, was right there.”

To be continued)

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Over the years as I attended reunions of the 712th Tank Battalion and listened to hundred of stories, I myself became the subject of a handful of stories. Like the time Lieutenant Jim Flowers was telling some grandchildren how he lost both his legs in Normandy and was awarded a Distinguished Service Cross — the whole story takes about 40 minutes and Jim was having a little trouble with a detail, so I opened my mouth and provided it. Jim glared at me and said, “Who’s telling this story, me or you?” Or the time Caesar Tucci brought his copy of the D Company log to the 1993 reunion, and I was sitting at a table in the hospitality room reading it. I turned to the section on Dillingen, where my father, Lieutenant Maurice Elson, was wounded on December 10, 1944. Although he was in A Company, he led a foot patrol composed mostly of D Company men to bring supplies to the tankers and return with wounded soldiers. I thought there might be some detail about the patrol.

21 December 1944

SUBJECT: Company Journal

To: Commanding Officer, 712th Tank Battalion.

The following is a daily journal of this Organization from 11 December 1944 to 20 December 1944.

11 December 1944 - (This day’s activity has previously been written and submitted under the date of 10 December 1944 for the purpose of getting the complete story of the action at that time. The portion belonging to this day is being resubmitted.)

The return trip was made without event except that the point was missed by about 1/2 mile to the left. A wet and heavy snow began to fall that made travelling conditions even worse. A group consisting of Kwiatkowski, Sparks, Mallak, Kittelson, Roderick, Doyle, Murray, Vincent and twelve others formed a party to carry bundles of litters. About 8 minutes after the party left, Vincent reported back to the 1st Sgt. after his partner was unable to continue from exhaustion. The balance of the men from the group reached the chateau with the litters.

An enemy pill box had been captured several days before and was being used as a forward medical station. The position had become too hard to hold with the available forces, and that section was forced to retreat. There were 25 litter patients in the pill box that would have to be left behind to be captured by the Germans unless evacuated by forces other than the holding forces. The litter carrying group at the chateau volunteered to try to evacuate these patients. Each man took a litter, and, placed under the command of Lt. Elson they started towards the pill box around 0300, taking cover advantage of trenches wherever possible. Heavy artillery, mortar, and small arms fire was encountered all along the way. While crossing a road, Lt. Elson was hit three times by small arms fire believed to come from our own troops. [Paul Wannemacher, the battalion secretary, was seated nearby, and he liked to tell how he saw me jump out of my seat. The group was ordered to drop the litters and return back to the chateau to check on our own firing and to wait until the enemy fire had moderated. Again the group started for the pill box, recovered the abandoned litters, and proceeded slowly onwards. Progress was very slow due to the extreme darkness, thick woods, and rough terrain, and still heavy enemy mortar and artillery fire. The pill box was reached about 0700. The litters were loaded and the trip back was started with the litter patients, about 40 wounded that were able to walk, the small group of medics, and the holding force that amounted to about 15 soldiers. It was soon discovered that the group was headed in slightly the wrong direction, and Pfc. Sparks volunteered to carry the Red Cross flag and try to lead the group back to the proper place. He hid his weapon in the folds of a blanket and set off on a new course, waving the flag as he went. Fortunately the Germans respected the flag and ceased small arms fire, but the men were still subjected to air and tree bursts from artillery. A German machine gun nest was passed that had just been knocked out by the Infantry. This nest was passed on the way up to the pill box and must have been in operation at that time. The chateau, or forward C.P. of the 357th Infantry was reached with the 25 litter patients. The time was about 1030. This group was released, but had to remain at this C.P. until the river could be crossed under the cover of night.

In the meantime, at about 0300, a group of about 50 P.W.’s were assembled at the river supply dump and they were ordered to carry rations to the advance C.P. along with the balance of the carrying party which included Pfc. Vincent. On the way up a very heavy barrage of mortar and artillery fire separated them from the rear. After quite a length of time had elapsed, 1st Sgt. Thompson attempted to get to the advance C.P. to get information on this carrying party, but was stopped at an underpass within 500 yds. of the objective by very heavy mortar fire to the front and artillery fire in the rear. After waiting about 45 minutes with no let up in firing, he returned to the river dump, joined Pvt. McLeskey, and caught the last boat across the river at 0500. No word had been received from the last carrying party, but it is believed that they reached the C.P. without loss. Lt. Hiatt, 1st Sgt. Thompson, and Pvt. McLeskey returned to the company at 0800.

The group remaining at the advance C.P. volunteered to guard the 333 P.W.’s due to a shortage of M.P.’s. They marched them down to the river at night, took them across the river to the interrogation point, and returned to the Company at 2400 without Pfc. Vincent.

The balance of the Company remained at Neunkirchen.

Some things I’ll never know. The last few years of his life my father lived with my sister in Massachusetts, and he told her a German stood over him and pointed a luger at him, and that he was treated by a German medic. I never heard that directly from him but I don’t doubt that that could have happened, judging from other stories I’ve heard. I don’t know why he was left behind, other than that in the darkness the men on the patrol may have thought he was dead; or how he made it back to the American lines or how he got across the Saar River, although his was a chest wound, so he would have been ambulatory.

12 December 1944

Pfc. Vincent returned to the Company in the morning. He had missed the last boat across the river in the early morning of 11 December, had remained at the advanced C.P. during the day, and had volunteered to be a carrier again that night.

The 1st Platoon was outposted around Kerprich-Hemmersdorf, Germany, to act as guard for the Division C.P.

\A carrying party composed of 1st Lt. O’Brient, T/Sgt. Albee, Sgts. Radwan, Kovac, Ziebarth, Tec. 4 Borden, Cpl. Holt, Tec. 5 Harmon, Pfc’s. Miller, C., Galbraith, Muniz, Pvts. Gordon, Seal, Widenhouse, Stewart, King, Parker, Russell, Williamson, Vydra, carried rations , ammunitions, and medical supplies. Artillery and machine gun fire was again encountered, but the work was completed without any casualties.

The 8th Armored Group tank was taken across the river to be used as N.C.S. for the Armored O.P. located in Dillingen, Germany. The tank was floated across the river.

13 December 1944

Another carrying party composed of the following men crossed the river: T/Sgt. Albee — in charge; S/Sgts. Murphy, Raynolds; Sgts. Zimmanck, Morrison; Tec. 4 Massar, Borden, Loop; Cpl. Lazorjack; Tec. 5 Mills, Inga, Solomon; Pfc. Dye, Bourgeois, and Pvt. Jordon. This group made two trips to the advance C.P. carrying rations, ammunition and medical supplies, and made return trip with 3 litter cases. At one time the group was subjected to rather heavy artillery fire. An E.M. from Hq. Co. was injured by a sniper.

As noted in the first of this series of Substacks, Dale Albee, whose copy of the D Company journal was handed down to me, noted that the “old man,” Alton Wagnon, the company commander, threatened to court martial the company clerk if he was caught making copies of the journal. After the December 13 entry, there are no more entries until January 8. Since the company log was the source of D Company’s contributions to the battalion after action reports, I decided to check the after action reports, which I have in a sometimes barely legible pdf.

The D Company entry for the period from 1-10 December is pretty spare.

D Company

Company remained at Neunkirchen. On 5 December Company furnished two .50-caliber machine guns and crews for a shoot across the Saar River from vicinity Fremersdorf, Germany. The targets were selected pillboxes and a general harassment of the enemy in aid of the crossing at Pachten. The firing was in bursts and at prescribed times. Rations and supplies were taken to crews under cover of darkness due to enemy observation.

Although the D Company log doesn’t appear to have contributed much from this period to the battalion after action reports, the reference to firing across the Saar came up in my conversation with Caesar Tucci, who brought the journal to that reunion, and Walter Galbraith, who was then-Sergeant Albee’s gunner.

“Around the first of December,” Tucci said, “they requested volunteers to man gun positions on the Saar River to kind of make a fake for the Germans, to make them feel that we were coming across in strength at that point. So there was a lot of firing to be built up at that point, and I volunteered to go down there. They said this would be a mission of about two or three days. So I went down and manned a .50-caliber machine gun at that position.

“On the way down, a sergeant from I think Headquarters Company was in charge. We had .50-caliber machine guns and mortars that we were going to set up inside the houses and various areas on this side of the Saar River to fire across and fire at the forts of the Siegfried Line. So I volunteered for one of those positions, and I went there, so I traveled light. They said it would be two, three days. I didn’t take anything else. Not even any shaving equipment, I figured I would shave and clean up when we get back.

“So we go down there, and to get there we had to reach the top of a hill, and then the halftrack had to make a mad dash to go down because it was exposed to direct fire from the Germans on the other side. And it was like going through a gantlet. We went down there just as fast as we could go and they were firing at us, but we beat it; we got down into the town and then we were out of their view. When we were in the town, we were only subjected to mortar fire and machine gun fire.

“So anyway, we got down, and we set up our headquarters in a brick apartment building on the opposite side of the street from the river from where we had set out. My partner and I sandbagged the machine gun in a kitchen in a German home on a porcelain kitchen table with sandbags and had it fixed to shoot out the back window of their kitchen across the river.

“These fire missions would be announced to us on the radio, start a fire mission, we would go, run across the street, put the back plate on the machine gun — we’d never leave the back plate there because patrols would come through the town — and when they gave us the word to fire, everybody, mortars, .50-calibers, everything, they’d fire across that river, to show a real, real show of force. That would go on for about four or five minutes, and the gun would get real hot, the barrel would, so what we had to do was then, when the fire mission stopped, I had to reach out with an asbestos glove, take the barrel off, ram an oil patch through it right away, and then take the back plate off the machine gun and beat it across the street back into the middle portion of that building. Our room was in the middle portion. It was built like a court, like, a square, and in the middle of that square were the outhouses, and we were in the middle portion of that. So we get back, and as soon as we got back, the Germans would start returning fire with mortar and machine guns. And one of the mortar shells I remember hit the craphouse, right in that square, it went right in there and hit that, demolished that outhouse there. And I’d stand guard in the hall, it was a long hall, and they told us, watch for German patrols, they come through the town at night, and I’d stand just inside the doorway where they couldn’t see in but I could see out, and I’d see the German tracers coming across the river, and they’d be hitting high, because, there again, if the trajectory was high, they couldn’t hit very low, but I could watch them way up in the building. Well, I was doing that one night when this was happening, when all of a sudden we got that zhooom, a damn mortar hit, you know those outdoor cellar exits, it was beside the door, it hit down there, and the concussion of that damn thing pushed me all the way back ten feet in the door, but that’s all it was, no shrapnel or anything but the concussion pushed me back there.”

“At the time you’re talking about,” Walter Galbraith said, “if you ever wanted to see anything so beautiful, the river was there, and our pink tracers was right across, and then you’d see the white phosphorous from the Germans, with all the beautiful colors and all. So anyway, we’re coming down that road to get to the river, and by the way, they had these lights shining up against the clouds to give it a light effect, and all those beautiful lights would just shine up into the clouds so we could see where we were going.

“So anyway, we’re not allowed to wear our helmet straps, because the concussion would break your neck, so we had to put the damn things around, and your helmet’s going like this on your head. So every time a shell would come over as we were going down the road, we’d fall, we’d hit the ground, and our helmets would come off. It looked like spittoons bouncing all over the road. But the colors were so beautiful, the pink tracer, the red tracer coming back.”

“But anyway,” Caesar said, “that shelling that night was rough as I remember. It hadn’t been that rough, but what it wound up being is this: We weren’t there for three days. We got relieved from that position on my birthday, the 16th of December. But one time we had a fire mission, and I had to go through all the rigamarole, I got the barrel off, the back plate, didn’t make it in time. So the only thing I could figure out then, on one end of the living room of this German home, and they had all ultramodern furniture in there, mahogany tables and everything. So I took a wall from where the shelling was coming from, there was a buffet under there; I dove under that buffet and watched the shrapnel come bouncing in through the window while they were shelling. Right after that was all over, I got the hell back across the street, and got out of that.”

There’s more in the after action reports for D Company but I discovered an item in the AAR for Headquarters Company that answered a question I always had about my father and also changed my understanding of his story. I always wondered whether he volunteered or “was volunteered” to lead the patrol across the Saar. The answer turns out to be in the after action report for Headquarters Company.

On 9 December crews of the Assault Gun and Reconnaissance Platoons were detailed as a carrying party to carry supplies across the Saar River up to the Infantry CP’s vicinity of Pachten, Germany. The supplies were carried under cover of darkness via assault boats, the party being under constant enemy small arms and artillery fire. One officer and 10 enlisted men volunteered to remain across the river to evacuate wounded to aid stations. The following night the officer was seriously wounded.

Also, as he was technically a platoon leader, I always thought the reason he led a foot patrol was because the tanks of A Company had crossed the Saar before he arrived at battalion headquarters. But according to the after action reports, two of A Company’s three platoons had not yet crossed the river. Then I realized all three platoons already had platoon leaders; the Second Platoon, which would have been his, was led by a recent arrival, Lieutenant Wallace Lippincott. If my dad returned a couple of weeks earlier, he might have been placed in charge of the second platoon, and he would have been killed instead of Lieutenant Lippincott in the Battle of the Bulge. Back in Normandy, where he was first wounded, he was sandwiched between two lieutenants — George Tarr and Arnold Lund — both of whom were killed on their first day in combat. I doubt that he knew just how lucky he was, although he did say he was lucky he was only wounded because the lieutenant rode with his head sticking out of the turret.

There are still some things I’ll never know, though. Why was he left behind when he was wounded? It was 3 in the morning on a pitch dark night, and the men on the patrol, who didn’t know him, may have thought he was dead. He told one of my sisters he was treated by a German medic. How did he make his way back across the Saar. After he retired due to health problems, he took a trip to Germany and visited Dillingen. It never occurred to me that he was seeking closure.

The following entries were also in the after action reports but not in the D Company journal:

12 December a platoon was detailed to outpost Division C.P. at Kerprich-Hemmersdorf. Another carrying party was furnished to carry supplies across the river to the infantry each night from 12-15 December inclusive.

17 December one light tank was ferried across the Saar for use at Battalion forward C.P. at Pachten.

20 December two tanks were detailed to river crossing control point to cover the crossing of the battalion vehicles from Pachten.

And then from the period 21-30 December:

22 December the platoon guarding the 90th Division C.P. was relieved. The Company moved from Neunkirchen at 1215 to Kirchnaumen (056-896). The crews of the .50-caliber machine guns were returned to the company. During the 17 days in position vicinity of Fremersdorf, they fired over 25,000 rounds across the Saar at enemy positions.

23 December a V-1 buzz bomb panned over area at 1630 going SE. It cut out and landed 5 miles from C.P.

24 and 25 December 3 tanks were used to demonstrate the method of attacking pillboxes as part of tank-infantry team. Demonstration was staged at Veckring (015-830). Two tanks used for road reconnaissance in Battalion area. 27, 28 and 30 December one platoon engaged in a tactical problem. Several enemy aircraft passed over area and were fired on by our .50-caliber machine guns.

The entry for December 22 corroborates Caesar Tucci’s account of the .50-caliber machine gun detail.

“What it wound up being is this: We weren’t there for three days. We got relieved from that position on my birthday, the 16th of December. But one time we had a fire mission, and I had to go through all the rigamarole, I got the barrel off, the back plate, didn’t make it in time. So the only thing I could figure out then, on one end of the living room of this German home, and they had all ultramodern furniture in there, mahogany tables and everything. So I took a wall from where the shelling was coming from, there was a buffet under there, I dove under that buffet and watched the shrapnel come bouncing in through the window while they were shelling. So right after that was all over, I got the hell back across the street, and got out of that.

“When we got out of that, we stayed in that area. We celebrated New Year’s Eve there, and this French family baked a lot of sweet cakes, pastries, so they invited us to participate. We were sleeping in the schoolhouse on the floor, and the French family was upstairs in it also, they were living there as refugees, so they invited us, and we had a combination of Calvados and pastries, and boy, there were a lot of sick guys. I never in my life got drunk, but that night I got sicker than a dog. And I got through and I went to bed, I went to my blanket and lay down, and geez, I got woke by Joe Masser, he said “Tooch, Tooch, it’s your turn, come on, get up!” I sat up like a zombie, Oh, my god, I said, what an awful feeling. And I went out to stand guard, my head spinning, sick to my stomach, the longest three hours I ever spent. Oh, my god, I felt terrible. This is the time that our battalion was ordered to move up to the Bulge area. So everybody packed up and we started up that way. This was the worst trip of my life, honest to God. After that night, I had what they called the GI shits, and what I was wearing, I got my underwear, my o.d.’s, and on top of that I had my combat suit, you know, like a ski suit. The convoy was so slow going up, it was bumper to bumper, so they’d stop periodically, and they’d have a few minutes, and every time they stopped I was out the back end of a truck heading for the side of the road, pulling all those clothes off, I had to get rid of my problem. Unfortunately I couldn’t go fast enough and the convoy would start up again and I was chasing after it trying to pull up my pants, it was a circus. Oh, it was an awful trip I had, I said never again would I do any kind of drinking like that.”

Next: “Dad Tells the Truth Once in a While”

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Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Things were quiet through the end of August for D Company’s “light” 17-ton Stuart tanks of the 712th Tank Battalion. They played a minor role in the closing of the Falaise Gap, one of the major events in the battalion’s history, but there are two entries in the battalion’s after action reports, one for B Company and one for C Company, both Sherman tank companies, that caught my eye.

August 20, 1944

August 21, 1944

The action picks up, not only for D Company but for the entire battalion, on Sept. 8, 1944, at about 3 in the morning. From the D Company journal:

8 September, 1944

At about 0300, an enemy column, consisting of about 5 Panther tanks and 6 half tracks, moved down a road between the Companies, circled the Bn. area, and was believed totally destroyed. The presence of this column was known, but to fire on it in the darkness would endanger our own troops. At about 1000, two enemy Panther tanks broke through our defenses and moved at full speed toward the Company and Bn. Headquarters Company area. Guns from several directions opened up on them and destroyed both tanks before they had done any harm. Five P.W.’s were taken, one of which stated that they were trying to get out rather than in.

It seemed like a no-brainer. Send the newly outfitted 106th Panzer Brigade, whose leaders had distinguished themselves on the Eastern front, to infiltrate the 90th Infantry Division lines and mount a surprise attack. If the Americans were anything like the Russians, where the tactic worked, the stunned Americans would scatter and flee. Due to a lack of reconnaissance, however, while traveling late at night, instead of going around and attacking from the rear, one of the Germans’ two armored columns drove into the 90th Infantry Division’s artillery command post, which was protected by tanks from the 712th, while the rest of the battalion was in the immediate vicinity. A sentry fired at the lead German tank and the Germans opened fire. For a brief period there was chaos and then things quieted down. The battle resumed at daylight.

Following is a German account from Panzerworld.com:

Panzer-Brigade 106 was made up in July 1944 from the remnants of the Panzer-Grenadier-Division “Feldhernhalle”, which was routed during the Russian offensive in June 1944, and shaped into condition near the eastern city of Danzig. Nobody less than the famous Colonel Dr. Franz Bäke [a dentist in civilian life] commanded this early unit of the succession of Panzer-Brigades. He was supported by experienced and highly decorated commanders, but the bulk of the troops consisted of inexperienced men and due to lack of fuel there had been little practice with the tanks. The training area could suggest deployment in the East, but in early September the brigade found itself as a reserve in the First Army sector in Lorraine. It was destined for the Lorraine counterattack against Patton’s Third Army later that month.

In the beginning of September the front line in Lorraine was stretching along the river Moselle from Nancy to Thionville. The Americans tried to establish bridgeheads over the river Moselle in weak sectors of the German defence to be able to advance to the industrial area in the Saar. Although the German First Army’s line of defence was thin it managed to fend off most of the American probing attempts to cross the river on 5th and 6th of September.

After this little success the commander of the First Army, Colonel-General Otto von Knobelsdorff, felt confident enough for a counterstroke on the stalled American forces. When the headquarters of Hitler gave away Panzer-Brigade 106 for 48 hours Knobelsdorff had his armoured fist with which he wanted to attack the exposed flank of the U.S. 90th Infantry Division north of Thionville. Knobelsdorff and Bäke were both seasoned officers who gained a lot of experience in Russia. They were confident that an armoured blow on the exposed flank and deep infiltration within American ranks would cause enough panic to make their units collapse and run, like the Russians would in similar circumstances.

Panzer-Brigade 106 with supporting infantry was send into action in the early morning of September 8th. There had been no beforehand reconnaissance, nor did the Germans know the exact whereabouts of the American positions. Bäke split up his force into two parallel armoured columns infiltrating into the Americans position without actually knowing where to strike. The western column began to spread out just as the Americans started to spot the German intruders. Instead of fleeing in confusion when confronted with this German night attack with tanks the Americans rallied and started to counter the threat.

Now the German forces were scattered in the countryside while the Americans began to rally their forces to strike back. The American infantry was armed with numerous kinds of anti-tank weapons and closely supported by divisional tanks and artillery. Scattered American tanks fired upon the column, while infantry was taking positions at road crossings to block German movement. Now the Germans were harassed by tanks and pounded with artillery.

At dawn the net of American forces around the western column started to get tight and escape was impossible. Bäke lost control over his units as they desperately tried to escape from the deadly trap which was closing around them. Villages and dense woods formed an excellent killing ground, because the Americans could knock out the mighty German tanks from close range. The eastern column tried to come to assistance of the western column, but this move was too late as the Americans were alerted and awaiting the attack. The eastern column was ambushed, suffering heavy casualties and the attack was soon broken off.

At the end of its first day of combat Panzer-Brigade 106 was routed and had lost most of its tanks and infantry in the process. At least 750 men were taken prisoner by the Americans and 21 tanks and tank destroyers of the initial 47 were permanently lost, next to more than 60 half-track carriers – it lost three-quarters of its combat effectiveness and actually ceased to exist as a unit capable of any offensive operations.

This case showed the weaknesses in the deployment and the tactics of the Panzer-Brigades. Firstly, the attack was carried out without proper reconnaissance or knowledge about the American positions. Secondly, the Panzer-Brigade was send into battle without clear objectives. These two mistakes were the result of the wrong assumption that a night attack with tanks would surprise the Americans and made them run. This major underestimation of the morale and fighting capabilities of the American forces proved fatal, because the Americans not only had the will but also the means to counter the attack. Besides these mistakes it was not a wise decision to commit inexperienced troops of an untested unit in a night attack against seasoned and well-organised troops.

Both A and C Companies lost tanks and had men killed and wounded in this battle, but I’ve written about those elsewhere, specifically in “Tanks for the Memories.”

The battle at Mairy was part of the Lorraine Campaign, as the 3rd Army probed for a spot to cross the Moselle River. Then General Patton’s tanks were stalled by the diversion of much-needed gas to Operation Market Garden, the airborne assault in Holland that launched on Sept. 17 and was portrayed in the movie “A Bridge too Far.”

During this period the tanks engaged in “indirect firing”; in other words, they were used as artillery as the Allies probed for a spot to cross the Moselle River.

9 September 1944

The Company remained in the assembly area during the day and performed necessary maintenance.

10 September 1944

The Company moved with the Bn. Hq. and Hq. Company, and Service Company to a new assembly area 1 mile N. of Avril. The Company closed at 1500. Map ref: GS/GS, 1, 100,000, Verdun sheet, 714-796

11 September 1944

The Company remained in the assembly area during the day as all around protection for the Bn. C.P., Hq. Company, and Service Company. Necessary maintenance was performed. Map. Ref: GS/GS, 1/100,000, Neunkirchen, 788-893.

12 September 1944

The Company with the Bn. Hq. moved at 0730 to a new assembly area at Angevillers, arriving at 0930. The Company set up all around security for the Bn. C.P., Hq. Company, and Service Company. Necessary maintenance was performed. Map Ref: GS/GS, 1/100,000, Neunkirchen, 788-893

13 September 1944

The Company remained in the assembly area during the day, continued its job of Bn. security, and performed maintenance.

14 September 1944

The 1st Platoon was attached to the 358th Infantry and the Company with the Bn. was alerted to move. This move started at 1530 and the unit closed into an assembly area 1 mile E. of Briey about 1700. The unit was moved again at 2130 to set up a defensive position E. of Marie aux Chenes, and to relieve troops already there. The Company arrived about 2300.

I was looking for this picture for Part 4 of this series, and as usual I found it while looking for something else today. It was a newspaper article in Dale Albee’s scrapbook.

“Private Frederick Gislain, Troop E, 11th Cavalry, doesn’t care about a medal — all he wants is his shirt back.

“It was ripped beyond repair when Gislain, on maneuvers with his outfit near Barrett Lake in the San Diego mountains on the night of August 6, unwittingly made himself a potential candidate for a heroism citation, his superior officers reported Thursday.

“Gislain and a fellow cavalryman identified as Private Margetta were among a group making its way along the edge of Barrett Lake. At one point underbrush was so thick the soldiers were forced to wade into the lake. Private Margetta’s horse stumbled. Weighted down by equipment, Margetta went down.

“Gislain saw the impending tragedy. He discarded his equipment, ripped off the much mourned shirt without thought for buttons or fabric, and dived in.

“A minute later he was back on the bank with Margetta, wet but safe. Out in the lake, Margetta’s horse still foundered.

“‘A cavalryman isn’t much good without his horse,’ reasoned Gislain to himself with a seculative glance at Margetta.

“So he dived in again, risked thrashing hoofs in the dark water, and brought the horse to shore.

“Now Gislain wants a new shirt.”

8 November 1944

The Battalion was alerted and moved from the area at Rochonvillers, France at 1800. Traveling conditions were bad due to the darkness, rain and a narrow curving road with soft mud shoulders. The Company arrived at Roussy-le-Bourg, France at 2145. Distance traveled was 11 miles.

9 November 1944

The Company remained in Roussy-le-Bourg awaiting further orders. Action was delayed by attempts made to cross the Moselle River and establish beach heads on the other side. The river was swollen due to the heavy rains in the past few days.

10 Nov. 1944

Situation same as the 9th.

20 November 1944

SUBJECT: Company Journal

To: Commanding Officer, 712th Tank Battalion

The following is a daily journal of this organization from 11 November 1944 to 20 November 1944

11 November 1944

The Company remained in Roussy-le-Bourg, France, awaiting further orders.

12 November 1944

No change in the situation

13 November 1944

The Company was alerted to move and the 18 tanks, the C.O. peep, and the maintenance peep cleared the area at 1800. The balance of the Company’s vehicles, the kitchen truck, half-track, platoon peep, and the C.P. peep joined the Battalion trains and left at 1845. It was raining, was a bit foggy, and the roads were narrow with curves and muddy shoulders that would bog down any vehicles that got off of the hard surface. Progress was necessarily slow. The Moselle River was reached at 1955 and the crossing was completed by the 18 tanks and 2-1/4 ton peeps by 2015. These vehicles closed into Basse-Ham, France around 2330. Distance traveled was 11 miles.

14 November 1944

The trains were held up by priorities of other units and didn’t cross the Moselle River until 0315. They arrived in Basse-Ham, France at 1015. Orders were received the night of the 13th to combine our Company and the 90th Division Rcn. Troop to reconnoiter to the S. of Basse-Ham and to establish contact to the 95th Infantry Division bridgehead at Thionville, France. The 1st, 2nd and 3rd Platoons were attached to the respective Platoons of the 90th Division Rcn. Troop. At 0700 the 1st group started reconnaissance toward Thionville. The 2nd group started reconnaissance on the left via Valmestroff toward Kuntzig. The 3rd group started reconnaissance toward Haute-Ham. The 1st group made contact with the 95th Division bridgehead in the vicinity of Basse-Yutz at 0820, thus clearing a route for the 10th Armored Division to come through after the completion of the bridge at Thionville. The 3rd group found Haute-Ham cleared of the enemy and continued S.E. towards Kuntzig. This group and the 2nd group went through the woods just S. of Basse-Ham, through mine fields and both groups arrived in the vicinity of Kuntzig and took the village around 1400. The 2nd group established contact with the 358th Inf. Regt. approximately 2 kilometers E of Kuntzig. The town was outposted by the 2nd group and about 1900 a PW was taken at a bridge in Kuntzig. The 1st group set up a reconnaissance screen along the railroad from Basse-Yutz to the vicinity of Kuntzig. The 3rd group was ordered to push on through Kuntzig towards Stuckange. On the southern outskirts of Kuntzig heavy mine fields were encountered. This group attempted to swing west and then south and again encountered mine fields. While trying to get through this field the Rcn. platoon Sgt. stepped on an A.P. [anti-personnel] mine and lost a foot. The Rcn. platoon leader, while trying to evacuate him stepped on another A.P. mine and lost his foot. At this time, Lt. Coe, the tank platoon leader, and a Rcn. platoon driver reached the two men and started back with the platoon Sgt. The driver set off another A.P. mine, received a serious leg injury, further injured the Sgt. they were carrying, and injured Lt. Coe’s left hand. Lt. Coe’s wound was severe but did not appear to be serious. He was evacuated. This accident happened about 1630 so this group was pulled back to the railroad for the night. At this time our mission for maintaining contact with the 95th Inf. Div. on our right and the 358th Inf. Regt. on our left was being carried out and a close reconnaissance screen between these two units which was the Division’s right flank was established. No enemy activity other than enemy artillery was reported during the night. The headquarters platoon had, in the meantime, become comfortably situated in the town of Besse-Ham.

Out of gas and low on ammunition while needed supplies were diverted to Operation Market Garden, most of the 712th Tank Battalion spent six weeks on the west side of the Moselle River opposite the daunting forts of the Maginot Line. Most of the forts had been all but abandoned but were reenforced by the time the 90th Infantry Division crossed in force. Due to the heavy rains, the river was a mile wide when the infantry crossed in assault boats while a pontoon bridge was constructed, and the infantry was on the verge of losing their bridgehead when the Shermans of the 712th finally made it across.

“That was a miserable damn deal,” Dale Abee said. “I’ll say this. I don’t care if it gets back to Montgomery, that glory-happy bastard. I still think that the reason we ran out of gas and ammunition down there was so they could send it up to him and he could run his tanks down the dike. Because if they let Patton go, we had the Germans on the run. Jesus, they were down to where they was using horses and buggies, or horses and wagons. Just any old thing they could. And the Germans, the thing about them, if you let them dig in, they were the damnedest fighters to dig out. If you could keep them on the run, then they couldn’t get oriented or regroup. And Patton sure had them. Boy, he had them right by the gitchy goomie. And they stopped us down there, and we like to never got back into Metz.”

15 November 1944

The 2nd and 3rd groups maintained the reconnaissance screen while the 1st group attempted to move S. to Stuckange. Again heavy mine fields were encountered everywhere they went. Due to these mines and enemy artillery, Stuckange had still not been entered by sundown by our troops after attempting to do so from five different routes. The 1st and 3rd Platoons were withdrawn to Basse-Ham and into Division reserve at 1600, while the 2nd group continued to outpost Kuntzig. The 3rd Platoon had been placed under the command of Tec. Sgt. Dale S. Albee. S/Sgt. Reynolds, injured July 27, returned to duty with the Company.

16 November 1944

The Company, less the 2nd Platoon, remained in Division reserve at Basse-Ham. The 2nd Platoon outposted Kuntzig until early afternoon when they moved through Imeldange, Geunange, into Haute Geunange. Later in the afternoon a six man patrol went to Reinange, about 2 kilometers S. from Haute-Geunange, and captured 47 prisoners. Haute-Geunange was outposted for that night.

17 November 1944

The Company less the 2nd Platoon moved at 1145 from Basse-Ham and closed in at the new bivouac area near Illange, France at 1215. The distance traveled was 5 miles. The 2nd section of the 2nd Platoon of tanks and one section of the 2nd Platoon of the 90th Division Rcn. Troop went to Rurange. The tanks supported the Rcn. on the road from Rurange to Metzeresche while the Rcn. investigated a road block and dug-in position at (929-769). They then turned back and the town of Rurange was outposted for the balance of the day and that night. The 1st section of tanks and a section of Rcn. went to Flevy, France and contacted the 95th Division Rcn. During the day and night they received enemy shelling. A prisoner was captured and the information received from him was turned over to the 95th Division Rcn. A map and overlay of the area was found and turned over to the 90th Division Rcn. The town of Flevy was outposted for the night.

18 November 1944

Early in the morning the group outposting Flevy captured a prisoner and turned him over to the 90th Division. The 2nd section of the 2nd Platoon and the attached section of the 90th Division Rcn. Troop moved from Rurange and joined the balance of the 2nd Group at Flevy. The mission was to continue reconnaissance to Mancy, through Hessange, to Vigy. On the road to Mancy, a road block was cleared by tying cables around the trees and towing them off of the road with tanks. Near Chelaincourt Chateau a German officer and private were captured. Replenishments were made in gas, water, and rations, and more prisoners were picked up at Chelaincourt Chateau. At Vigy more prisoners were picked up. While outposting Vigy orders were received to proceed into Avancy. As they moved into Avancy, an enemy horse drawn vehicular column was intercepted and shot up. A considerable number of prisoners were taken. The wounded Germans were evacuated. The town was outposted and at 1800 two German trucks came down the road and were knocked out. Two prisoners were taken and two were killed. At 2400 a German vehicle was knocked out at the crossroads while trying to escape. This vehicle had an American Medic from the 95th Infantry Division a PW of the Germans as of 1900 that day. The four Germans in the vehicle were wounded and captured. The American Medic was unharmed. The balance of the Company made a blackout march from the bivouac area bnear Illange to Bettelainville, France, a disance of 11 miles.

19 November 1944

At 0130 a coupe and an ammunition truck were knocked out by the 2nd Platoon. The ammunition truck was towing a 20 mm. anti-tank gun. The truck was set on fire. Eighteen EM [enlisted men] and a Captain were captured and five others were killed. At 0630 an approaching convoy was heard and a flare was used to provide enough light to spot the vehicles. The convoy of 5 trucks were knocked out. The personnel scattered and escaped; two were killed. The captured anti-tank gun was set up and fired at the trucks, to further destroy them. Bazookas were captured in one of the trucks. At 0930 the 2nd group moved out to the crossroads approximately 1000 yards N.E. of Retonfey and joined with the 735th tank Battalion, thus closing the Metz Gap. The 2nd group then moved into Rentonfey and outposted it for the rest of the day and that night. The 1st Platoon moved at 0830 under Task Force Kedrovsky and set up road blocks at Avancy. The balance of the Company moved to Vry. The 3rd Platoon set up road blocks at Vry. In the afternoon the 1st Platoon was returned to Company control. Around 2330 machine gun fire from another company in the Battalion wounded and captured 3 out of 6 Germans while trying to escape.

Next: This one is personal

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For parts 1, 2 and 3 of this work-in-progress, based on the D Company journal of the 712th Tank Battalion, you can follow links at the end of this entry or go to the World War 2 Oral History home page, but each section should stand on its own if you miss a section or three.

The following article from the Chicago Tribune is reprinted from Andy Schifler’s photo album:

Chicagoans train in desert

El Centro, Calif. May 30 (1941) — Here, under the broiling sun of America’s hottest spot, the men of the 11th Cavalry, many of them Chicagoans, are preparing for extensive maneuvers along the border. For weeks on end, the sun pours down from a cloudless sky at Camp Seeley at the gateway to California’s great Imperial Valley. It is the lowest Army camp in the world, 50 feet below sea level, and is only 12 miles from the Mexican border.

The observer is led inevitably to the belief, one without official confirmation, that these soldiers are being conditioned for possible service in the deserts and tropical heat of Central America. Any sort of work is impossible during the midday heat, and the Army day begins at 4:30 in the morning. Work is over by 11:30, and the afternoon is devoted to swimming, parades...”

[At this point, as I’m reading the article into my Sony Recording Walkman, Andy interjects: “That’s a lot of bunk! We had a lot of work to do!”]

…parades, and the time-honored Spanish custom of a siesta.

140 degrees on rifle range.

On a recent day it was 110 in the shade of the post exchange and 140 degrees on the rifle range by the river where the sun quickly made rifle barrels too hot to touch. Camp officers, however, say that the men are gaining stamina, “an ability to take it,” and that now with their 13 weeks basic training completed, they’ll be able to go through maneuvers without discomfort.

Camp Seeley is a temporary camp used only pending the erection of a permanent headquarters at Campo, two miles north of the border and 2,200 feet high. Meanwhile, the men live under canvas, and at nights, with the sidewalls of the tent up, a breeze sometimes strays in to give relief from the heat.

Three factors — Chicago, the horse cavalry, and the rigorous training of 10th Armored “Tiger camp” — contributed to the success of the 712th Tank Battalion in general and D Company, with its “light” 17-ton Stuart tanks, in particular. Many of the battalion’s original members were from the Chicago area. In February of 1941 a trainload of between 500 and 600 recruits, including Andy Schifler and Hilding Freeberg and many others, all wearing winter clothes, left from Camp Grant in Illinois and arrived at Camp Seeley. The recruits spent more than a year in the horse cavalry, and after being mechanized as cadre for the newly formed 10th Armored Division in 1942, the former horse soldiers underwent the additional training of the 10th Armored “Tiger Camp.”

Tank driver Andy Schifler was born in Chicago in 1916, and was practically “born driving,” he said. “I was ten, eleven years old, my neighbor had trucks. During the war [World War 1] he was a mechanic in the Army, and this guy had about eight trucks. He had broken fingers and he couldn’t shift, so I was about eleven years old; he said, ‘Okay, throw her into forward.' That’s how I learned to drive.”

Andy would have been 11 in 1927, at the height of Prohibition, in case you were wondering how his neighbor’s fingers were broken.

“My neighbor in the trucking outfit, they killed him in front of his garage,” Andy said. “Now I don’t know if he was driving for Al Capone, see, he was bringing in sugar from Indiana, and these gangs would try to get, you know, for alcohol. Yeah, I was lucky I wasn’t there with him, right in front of the garage, driving off the street.”

Dale Albee grew up in Nebraska and was living in Oregon when he enlisted in the Army in 1938.

“I had a brother in the Navy and I tried to join the Navy,” he said, “but I couldn’t pass the eye chart, so I memorized the Navy eye chart and joined the Army. It was real easy. The big block letter E FP TOZ, the big E was fuzzy, but I went into the Army there the next day, they just had a big blanket between them, and E-FP-TOZ, cover the other eye, E-FP-TOZ, you’re in. I had just turned 18, I think.

“They sent us over to the old J.D. Holman School in Portland and assigned us to the 29th Engineers. My buddy and I, Jim Anning, didn’t want any part of the engineers so we flipped a coin to see whether we wanted to go to Panama or the 11th Cavalry. I won, so we transferred to the 11th Cavalry and we went straight to the camp, and went into B Troop of the 11th Cavalry down at Presidio Monterrey, California.

“I was on the advance party that went down to Camp Seeley. It was just a wasteland and we built platforms and put up tents for the rest of the outfit to come in. And then we built a base camp there, all tents. And wooden mess shacks. That was the First Squadron stayed there, and the Second Squadron went on up to Campo. That became Camp Lockett.”

The cavalry training included patrolling the Mexican border, which was less than eight miles from Camp Seeley.

“You just went out on horseback, a squad or a platoon at a time,” Dale said, “and what you was doing actually was patrolling but at the same time was training. And most of it was training, it wasn’t patrolling but they called it patrolling because we would be working on the border.”

“It must have been hot,” I said.

“Ohhhh, hot! About 115 degrees most of the time. We’d start sometimes at 3 or 4 o’clock in the morning. And we took salt tablets all the time, because you start out and your shirt was just completely wringing wet, and when you come in the white marks from losing your salt ... but it was a dry heat. That was one advantage to that. Except when you went to town and got all drunked up.”

“What would you do for water? Did you have enough water?”

“We always carried canteens. Always. Water, and then you learned to not drink water, to really conserve it, and even today I very seldom drink water, because, I don’t know, maybe it stems from the training there. Because you’d drink out of an irrigation ditch if necessary, if you had to, for water. You and your horse both.

“You learned to rely on your horse an awful lot. Plus in the first place, that was your means of transportation. If you lost that, you walked. So you made doubly sure. And another thing, it became a pet. You did all your training with him, to shake hands and everything. When we turned them in for those tanks, we cried.

“We had to turn them over to the 10th Cav, and we had learned to love our horses. A horse can go anywhere a person can. You can crawl up a mountain, if you can get up that, a horse can too. If you get lost, [the horse will find its way back]. And you could move. That’s one of the nicest things about it, the training that you had in the cavalry was to hit and move, so that they never knew where you were. And when we went in and fought the Germans it was the same way. If you hit and moved, our light tanks, for goodness sakes, with the 37-millimeter it’s almost impossible to knock out a German tank unless you got around to the side and you hit four to six inches over the track. That’s the only place you could. Anywhere else, you couldn’t knock him out with a 37. But it all stemmed back to your basic cavalry training. Base of fire, maneuver around. Like old Patton said, ‘Grab ‘em by the nose and kick ‘em in the ass.’ And that’s basically what cavalry was all about.”

By the time the trainload of recruits from the Chicago area arrived, Dale was a sergeant and was involved in training the new troopers.

“Hilding [Freeberg] described a game that was sort of like musical chairs, but it was on horseback,” I said. “Was that a game or an exercise?”

“It was a game and an exercise,” Dale said. “Because let’s say you had eight riders and you put seven chairs out here. You ride around in a circle and you could start out at a walk, a trot and a canter. Now the best way was with a canter because you were taught a flying dismount.”

“A flying dismount?”

“That’s where you drop the reins on the pommel, place your hands on the pommel, throw your feet up level with the horse, swing around, come down, hit with your feet, and stand at attention holding the reins of the horse. Well, on this one you made a flying dismount, but you had to get to a chair and sit down, and then you went through until there was only one chair left. Because each time you’d take one chair away. And that was just training.”

“What would you do,” I asked, “as an instructor, when you encountered somebody who was terrified of horses?”

“We did, see, that was one of the problems we had,” Dale said, “because on the guys that came in from Chicago, just like Hilding said, the only horse he ever saw was on a milk wagon, and when they came in, we had 500 that we’d gotten out of Chicago, we got 300 remounts. Now a remount is a green broken horse, and green broken, all that means is somebody got in a saddle on him. Whether he got thrown or kicked or bit or thrown or whatever, he was green broke. Well, we took them down and introduced them, and started them out together, so it was a three-ring circus for a while and we did have quite a few people in the hospital from minor bruises and contusions. But pretty soon, they started working together, and those men made some of the best cavalrymen you could find. That group out of Chicago made darn good cavalrymen. And it’s proven, you know, they went all the way through the war.”

There is a lull in the D Company journal following the entry for August 19, 1944, with passages like:

23 August 1944

The day was spent for maintenance, care of equipment, and rest.

24th August 1944

Same as the day before.

25th August 1944

The day was spent in maintenance, care of equipment, and rest. The Company was alerted about 1300 for a move the following day to Fontainebleau, France.

There also is no mention of the closing of the Falaise Gap, in which the 712th Tank Battalion played a significant role in the decimation of the German 7th Army, a slaughter that has been compared to the “Highway of Death” in the first Gulf war, in which retreating forces were slaughtered by relentless aerial bombing on the road from Kuwait to Iraq. But while A Company tanks were overrun and engaged in a fierce firefight with German tanks and infantry trying to escape from the Gap; and B Company’s commanding officer, Captain Jack Galvin, walked down into the valley and emerged with 1,100 German prisoners in tow; and C Company’s tanks stood on a ridge overlooking the Gap and fired down into the chaos below; this wasn’t D Company’s battle.

Around this time the after action reports contain a recap of the 712th Tank Battalion’s first two months of combat, apparently written by its commanding officer, Colonel George B. Randolph.

History of 712th Tank Battalion

The 712th Tank Battalion landed in France on 29 and 30 June 1944 and immediately after assembling was attached to the 90th Infantry Division (less Company A which initially was attached to the 82nd Airborne Division). The battalion was committed on 2 July 1944 in the vicinity of St. Jores, with the two medium companies and the mortar platoon attached to infantry regiments, and the light tank company and assault gun platoon in reserve.

The battalion fought at St. Jores, Beau Coudray and Foret de Mont Castre, attached as indicated. On 8 July 1944 the battalion less Company B, was attached to the 8th Infantry Division for the attack on La Haye de Puits and South. Company B remained with the 90th Infantry Division, continuing the attack on Foret de Mont Castre. One platoon of Company C 712th Tank Battalion (Lt. Flowers’ platoon) was in such a position that they could not be relieved when the battalion went to the 8th Infantry Division, and eventually the platoon was lost through enemy action.

On 13 July 1944 the battalion was again assembled and reattached to the 90th Infantry Division, since that date the entire battalion has been attached and acted as a part of the 90th Infantry Division.

On the night of 1 August 1944 a task force composed of the 90th Reconnaissance Troop, Company D 712th Tank Battalion, and Assault Gun Platoon 712th Tank Battalion was organized, under the command of Lt. Col. George B. Randolph, Commanding Officer 712th Tank Battalion, and proceeded from St. Saveur de Lendelin, through Coutances and Avranches, to the vicinity of St. Hilaire to block the roads to the North and Northwest of St. Hilaire du Harcourt. This mission was accomplished by daylight, 2 August 1944 and the assembly area of the Division secured.

On 5 August 1944 the 712th Tank Battalion with 90th Reconnaissance Troop attached, spearheaded the move from St. Hilaire du Harcourt to Mayenne as part of Task Force Weaver. The move was made with great speed and allowed the Division to take Mayenne before the enemy had time to complete his demolition. This raid and successful move was the beginning of the turning movement which formed the pocket in the vicinity of Chambois.

After holding Mayenne overnight orders were received to proceed through Aron to Le Mans. While the officers of the battalion were assembled and being briefed for the move, very destructive artillery and high velocity fire was received in the battalion area, and the report received of an infantry and tank attack moving toward that area from Aron. In spite of this the column was formed and moved out to meet the attack. The attack was stopped initially by the tanks of Company A 712th Tank Battalion, and Maj. Mason’s battalion, 357th Infantry proceeded to push the enemy back to the vicinity of Aron.

After developing the situation and pushing the enemy back the decision was made to move to Le Mans by way of Vaiges. This move was begun before dawn the next day, and by early afternoon the part of Task Force Weaver had reached Chammes.

At this time the column was being led by Lt. Godfrey’s platoon Company D, 712th Tank Battalion, with infantry mounted on the tanks. As the column was about to enter Chammes the leading tank was fired upon by machine guns and what appeared to be 20 mm anti-aircraft guns used as anti-tank weapons. The situation was developed by this platoon, and again Maj. Mason’s battalion supported by tanks of 712th Tank Battalion attacked and took the town and the column was formed up to continue on its mission but stray enemy resistance past the town was encountered and the decision was made to bypass this resistance and continue to Le Mans by another route. During this day three minor engagements were fought, in all cases the tanks of Company D, 712th Tank Battalion hit the resistance, developed it and finally pushed the enemy back. By this time the move had become a pursuit and a column of enemy vehicles several miles long was destroyed or caused to be abandoned. Just before dark Chalfour de Notre Dame was reached where the column was to join with another column of Task Force Weaver. At this point the leading element quickly took possession of the town and the column was closed up in the area. Patrols later contacted the other column of Task Force Weaver — the position was consolidated, and the next day Le Mans fell without resistance.

At Le Mans the entire division was assembled and moved on through Alencon and Sees to the vicinity of Nonant le Pin to complete the pocket. On this move the battalion moved to Division reserve, without fighting, except for Company D, which assisted in mop-up operations and reconnaissance.

After reaching the vicinity of Nonant le Pin the companies of the 712th Tank Battalion were attached to the infantry regiments of the Division. Company A was engaged with elements of the 359th and 358th Infantry in the attack on Le Bourg St. Leonard. In this engagement Company A suffered heavy losses but assisted very materially in stopping an enemy tank-infantry attack, and after the attack was stopped, in taking the town, thereby sealing a main route of escape from the pocket. After the pocket was sealed Company B and Company C participated in a very important manner in the reduction of the enemy in the pocket. On this action the 712th Tank Battalion was credited with the destruction of 620 vehicles including 50 tanks.

In the advance from St. Hilaire to Le Mans the aggressive action of the armor which was leading the column had a tremendous effect on the action and on the war. In the reduction of the pocket near Chambois the fire of the battalion had a very important part in the destruction of the enemy there, and in preventing his efforts to break out of the pocket.

“In the Falaise Gap?” Lex O’Brient said in response to a question. “You know, here’s something that’s kind of, I don’t remember all of that action too well, but you know what they started doing? They started taking different parts of the tank units and putting them with either the 357th Regiment, the 358th and the 359th, and it seems like to me that I had been told to get over, I believe it was the 357th, I’m not real sure about that. But anyway, I know we started taking on troops, and they [the Germans] were hiding behind haystacks, they were all over the place. They’d go looking for cover of course, and I know we started firing into those hay shocks or stacks, and then the Air Force showed up for that one too. They were raking them over, strafing them. I can’t remember now how we were really deployed at that point, but I just barely remember, though, that we were off on the left side of that action.”

“Did you go down into the valley?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, we did. Oh, I’ll tell you, that was a slaughterhouse. Between all of our tanks firing at them, they had nowhere to go, but the air really worked them over. I mean, I never saw such a mess.”

Somewhere in the leadup to the Falaise Gap, D Company received a visit from General Patton. I first heard about this from Russell Loop, who was a driver in Lieutenant O’Brient’s platoon, until the Battle of the Bulge, when he was transferred to C Company as a gunner. Loop didn’t recall the time or place, but he sure recalled General Patton.

“We had just pulled up on a four-way crossroad, which was a hard road, and pretty nice roads for back at that time,” Loop said. “And we had not met any resistance there. But we had just pulled off and was waiting for further orders, and here comes Patton and his jeep, and his driver, and he just more or less walked by the officers and went around and shook hands and talked with nearly every one of the enlisted men. And while he was there, there was a German plane that strafed that crossroads both ways, twice. And he just looked up and said, ‘They must know I’m here.’ That’s all he said, about that. But what he wanted to know was, ‘Are you getting plenty to eat? Are you getting enough ammunition and gasoline? And is there anything that I can do to make it better?’ And of course we all said ‘Yes, send us home.’ (chuckling) But I did, I got to shake hands with him on the front line.”

That somewhere was Mortain, which was on the way to Le Mans, according to Lieutenant O’Brient.

“My platoon was right there at the crossroads at Mortain,” O’Brient said. “Godfrey’s platoon went around where that cross-section was and he went down that way, and then Harry Coe went down even further. Okay. I’m glad you brought that up. So, we’re sitting there, and just playing a flank guard for anything that was coming because they were getting ready to move the 2nd Armored. I was told the 2nd Armored Division was getting ready to come through. But before that, here comes Patton down the road with his whole staff of officers, and three or four jeeps behind him. So he’s coming my way, and so, when I got up there and I reported to him, he returned it [the salute] and said hi, and shook hands real quick, but he didn’t want to talk to me. He wanted to talk to my sergeants with the other tanks. And what he wanted to know was if they really understood what was going on, if they knew. And he was very satisfied with what he heard. I mean, they told him, we’re here, and this is what we’re here for, and this is what we’re doing. He immediately left and I called on the radio and I told Gene [Godfrey] about this. I said, ‘Gene, you’re about to have some very special company. It won’t be more than two or three minutes.’

“And he said, ‘Thanks.’

“Sure enough, Patton went on down there, he talked to Gene, and he went down and talked to [Harry] Coe, as I remember. But then we saw him come back. And then a funny thing happened. We got strafed. So I guess, I don’t know how the Germans would have found this out, but I kind of feel like somebody had tipped them off that hey, I guess you couldn’t miss it, I mean gee, Patton with his brilliant, shiny helmet and dressed to perfection. I’m glad you brought that up. That’s what happened. Did Andy tell you about that?”

“No, you know who told me about that? Russell Loop. Do you remember him? He transferred to C Company, but he said that once Patton came up and spoke to the enlisted men. He was a sergeant, and you know, Patton bypassed the officers. So that would have to be the same, because he started out in D Company.”

“Russell Loop?”

“Loop. From Indianola, Illinois.”

“Ah, yeahh, yeah, I remember him. Right. But you know something else that I don’t know if Andy told you about. There was a woman there with her children in a house close by. And of course, this is one thing Patton insisted on, ‘Don’t you take any food from any of these people. You have what you need. Leave it alone.’ So I felt real sorry for this woman and her children. And we had fruit, we had some apples and we had oranges, and those children, they hadn’t seen any candy at all. Well of course all the candy we had was that D-bar, that highly concentrated chocolate. So I tried to tell her, ‘Listen, these are for your children,’ because I knew they hadn’t had any food there; I was told that they hadn’t had any oranges or apples, they didn’t know anything about any of that. And above all, they hadn’t had any chocolate. So I think Andy was one of them that gave her the chocolate, and Midlar. Anyway, so you know what she did? She was so grateful, she went and killed a couple of chickens, and boy, I thought, no ma’am, don’t do that, uh-uh. But she did anyway, and they came out there, and this is just before Patton showed up. So what we did, they had it on one of these oblong plates and cut up, I said ‘Jesus Christ, we’re all gonna be in trouble.’ So we took it, and thank god he didn’t get close enough to notice it, but we pushed it in under the bogey wheels and the track and covered it with jackets and so forth. Of course he wasn’t there long. Thank god he wasn’t. He just was in and out. So when he got out of there, I took that chicken and said, ‘Ma’am, please, for god sake, take that back, don’t do that.’ So we made her take it back. But if he’d have found out, I hate to think what would have happened. But he was real fast. He came up, and I bet he was gone in less than a minute and a half. But that’s what he wanted to do. He wanted to talk to the sergeants and the other enlisted men that he could talk to. And I remember Murphy was standing there, and he heard what was asked. But anyway, which I think was a good thing. So that’s the second time I saw General Patton, right there. The first time was on the hills in England, and then the second time I saw him was there. And then we saw him again up in the Battle of the Bulge, but I didn’t really get to say anything to him. I just saw him, and he went right on.”

(Next: The destruction of the 106th Panzer Brigade)

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Part 3

World War 2 Oral History

Just a reminder of how present is the past: Following the publication of Part 2 of my work in progress “The Best ‘Little’ Tank Company in the E.T.O.,” I received the following email from Normandy historian Christian Levaufre: “Sometimes things all happen at the same time and this edition about the D company /712th TB followed the visit of Jennita Wingate, Claudis Jenkins' niece.” [Jenkins was one of two crew members killed when a light tank ran over a string of mines and flipped over, killing Jenkins and one other crew member, while two crew members survived.] Christian forwarded the Substack to Jennita, who emailed him back, saying “Christian, thank you for this article. As sad as the circumstances, I’m glad to have this information. I can take comfort from the fact Buck probably did not suffer since the Sgt. has no memory of the attack. I will share this with the rest of the family.”

Following the publication of Part 3, Christian commented “May I mention that for the case of Micaloni’s Sherman tank on July 26, 1944 not all the 5 crew members were KIA but only 4 because he got one man out (Victor Karbowski). Thinking that it was not fair to pay tribute to Tullio Micaloni only with a statue at the 4 Braves memorial, like for Reynolds’ Stuart a few years ago we erected and dedicated a small memorial close to the place where the Sherman was hit. (See picture at top of this post). Suzanne Michelony (anglicized version of Micaloni) will come to visit it next October.”

The last few days I’ve been reviewing the transcripts of my lengthy interviews with three members of D Company, as well as the D Company journal and the battalion’s after action reports, and I’ve found some pretty interesting stuff. For one thing, I had assumed the after action reports condensed the material from the journal and left out the names, but the after action entries and journal entries were actually almost vetbatim, so I was wrong in my assumption; I just had never read the after action reports this closely. And I realized that material in the interview transcripts sometimes adds color and detail that even the journal lacks.

Case in point: I have to backtrack to the battalion’s third day in combat, July 6, 1944. This is the journal entry for July 6:

6 July 1944

The 2^nd Platoon under 2^nd Lt. Lex E. O’Brient was attached to the 2^nd Battalion 358^th Inf. Regt. And moved to an intermediate position at 250-840. It made no attack and withdrew to the company assembly area about 2200. Cpl. James G. Benda, the platoon leader’s gunner, was lightly wounded by enemy artillery and was evacuated.

So here I am reading the transcript of my interview with Andy Schifler, who was the driver of the platoon leader’s tank.

One time we were in an area, we were resting, there must have been about, oh, I don’t know, maybe five or eight tanks. We were there for about four hours. And then one of my friends, Benda (James G.), he wanted something eat, I said, “Come up in my tank,” and I’m leaning out of the tank, there was an airburst or something, and as he climbed over, he got hit in the arm, instead of me getting hit right in the head. I went under the tank, it’s that high. I looked in the tank, it’s all rations, everything [scattered about]. So that was a close one. Benda saved me there.”

A little later in the interview (about 30 single-spaced pages of the transcript later!) I returned to the incident, and asked Andy to tell me about it again.

AE: You had said that one time somebody got in your, not in your way, but blocked the airburst that would have...

AS: Yeah, Benda. He got hit, shrapnel or something, that airburst. Jimmy Benda.

AE: Describe that again.

AS: Well, he said he wanted something to eat, and I was leaning, like this here [pointing to a photo, which I don’t remember; I’m not even sure whether they were inside or out of the tank!], see we were sitting down here, our heads were up against there. I said, “Go ahead, Jim, go over,” and he climbed over me, he had to go over this guy, too, and he climbed, and he had to go on my side because I had stuff on the transmission, it’s on my side. He climbed over me, the first thing I knew, the tank went up in the air, and we popped back under it, it was high enough, it was that high. And Jimmy got hit with shrapnel; they would have caught us right in the head. But he seemed to be right in the way. That’s the closest one I had coming to my head I mean. He saved me. He was the best man at my wedding, Jimmy.

That was the battalion’s third day of 311 days in combat, many of them on the front lines in the European Theater of Operation. Andy Schiffler would drive his tank 4,000 miles in combat, through France, Belgium, Luxembourg, the Battle of the Bulge, the Siegfried Line, across the Moselle River twice and the Rhine, through the heart of Germany and into Czechoslovakia, without being seriously injured.

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Part 1

Part 2

It’s easy to see why the importance and accomplishments of “little” D Company of the 712^th Tank Battalion have been overlooked by historians, including myself. The victories and defeats of the 33-ton Sherman tanks of A, B and C Companies and the 105-millimeter assault guns of Headquarters Company were proportionally more dramatic than those of D Company’s 17-ton Stuart tanks, although the losses were no less painful. During the battle for Seves Island in Normandy, for example, a B Company Sherman met a fate similar to that of Sergeant Charles Reynolds’ light tank (see Part 2), only in that case the heavier Sherman ran over an explosive device with the equivalent of several hundred pounds of TNT which shot the tank into the air, flipped it over, and killed all five crew members, one of whom, Sergeant Tullio Micaloni, was chosen to represent the 712^th in the statue honoring the 90^th Infantry Division in Perier. During the battle for Hill 122, also in Normandy, Lieutenant Jim Flowers of C Company lost all four of his tanks with nine crew members killed but not before rescuing an entire battalion of the 358^th Infantry Regiment that was surrounded by German paratroopers and smashing through the enemy lines to lead K Company of the 358 off the hill.

In fact, although I possessed a copy of the D Company log, I had never read it through as I figured many of the entries were dry and lacked detail and names. I did, however, know that the log contained some names, as one of them was that of my father, even though he was in A Company, but more about that when I get to December of 1944.

It wasn’t until a few of weeks ago, when I was contacted by a woman who said her grandfather was in the 712^th, that I took a closer look at the D Company log. Her grandfather’s name hadn’t come up in my interviews but according to a roster he was in D Company, so I told her I would see if I could find him. I scoured the log with no success, although Dale Albee’s note said some pages were missing, and sometimes it said crew members were injured without naming them.

What I realized, though, was that between the log and three extensive interviews and several shorter conversations I recorded over the course of several years, “little” D Company had a hell of a story to tell.

9 August 1944

The Company moved into an assembly area on the W. edge of Chaffeur-Notre Dame at 0300, and was instructed to be ready to move if necessary at 0500. Two of the four lost tanks had been recovered by the Company maintenance and made ready for use. Upon awakening, Tec. 4 Borden went through the hedgerow to cut limbs for camouflage and found 12 Germans asleep. Armed with an axe, he brought them in. During the day three final drives were pulled by the maintenance section. At 1830, the Company moved with the Battalion to an assembly area 2 miles N.E. of Le Mans.

10 August 1944

The Company remained in the assembly area all day and performed maintenance. The 1^st Platoon was alerted to move at 0430 the following day to support the 90^th Division Rcn. Troop on a movement N. of Le Mans, along the river, and on the 90^th Division’s left flank.

Did I mention that D Company’s primary role was reconnaissance? As it was explained to me by Bill Doyle, a veteran of the company, because they were lighter and faster than the Sherman tanks of the line companies, their job was to go ahead until they were fired on, and then get the heck out of there while the bigger tanks took over.

A.P.O. 308, U.S. Army

22 August 1944

Subject: Company Journal

To: COMMANDING OFFICER, 712^TH Tank Battalion

Ref.: Map of France 1/25000

The following is a daily journal of this organization from 11 August 1944 to 22 August 1944

11 August 1944

The 1^st Platoon under Lt. Godfrey moved at 0430, joined the 90^th Division Rcn. Troop, and moved as the Division’s left flank Rcn. To vicinity of St. Germain-de-la-Coudre. The roads were outposted on this move along the river. No enemy contact was made. The Company moved at approximately 1700 to the vicinity of Luce, France, into an assembly area.

12 August 1944

The 1^st Platoon moved north through Alencon with the 90^th Division rcn. Troop, moved through the French 2^nd Armored Division, and met enemy resistance at a crossroad South of Les Regolieres. Sgt. McNulty’s tank was hit by a shot from a German Mark V tank. Tec. 5 Ezerskis, the driver, was killed and the remaining members of the crew, Sgt.McNulty, Pfc. Jezuit were seriously burned and evacuated. Sgt. Lutcavish’s tank, which was leading the column, immediately opened fire on the enemy tank and destroyed it by placing about eight rounds of A.P. [armor piercing] into its side. Sgt. Lutcavish’s tank had meanwhile been set afire by an enemy bazooka charge in its rear. This tank was salvaged, but the gunner, Cpl. O’Farrell, had injured his ankle when jumping from the tank, and was evacuated. The Company moved to a new assembly area at 1700 in the vicinity of Le P Oisseau. The 1^st Platoon and Rcn. Troop withdrew to an assembly area about 400 yards South of the cross-road.

“Another Mark V Bit The Dust,” as told by S/Sgt. Lutcavish.

While moving in the lead vehicle of a platoon of light tanks up a road northeast from Alencon, France, the following action took place on the 12^th August, 1944:

Upon rounding a curve we suddenly came upon an enemy truck loaded with Germans. Before my gunner, Cpl. O’Farrell, could fire, the truck stopped and backed around the curve. We pursued it and directed fire with the 37 mm and coaxial guns at a group of dismounted Germans by their truck. About that time I heard a terrific explosion. I looked to the rear and the tank directly behind me was in flames. I caught a glimpse of a whirl of dust caused by a muzzle blast to my right. Immediately I spotted the position under an apple tree at about 125 yards away. I didn’t know for sure what it was or whether it could be knocked out with my 37 mm., but I knew I had to do something quick because it was already traversing its gun onto me. There was no cover or no way to go back because of the burning tank behind me. Again I heard an explosion and felt my tank lunge forward. A bazooka had hit me in the rear and set the rear end of the tank on fire. What a position for a church-going man to be in! There was nothing else to do but to dish it out, so I directed fire on the gun position that looked like that of a tank. That gunner of mine was plenty fast. In less time than it takes to tell he threw 8 well placed rounds of A.P. into that position and had it on fire. Now we could definitely tell it was a tank, a huge one with a gun that made our 37 look like a pea-shooter. While we were wiping the cold sweat from our brow another enemy tank crossed the road about 400 yards ahead of us. We swung the turret in that direction hoping that we could chalk up another one, but the tank disappeared in the brush before the gunner could fire on it. By this time my tank was burning badly so I ordered the crew to abandon it – disregarding the numbers system – and we made our way back to the rest of the Platoon, toot-sweet, on foot.

If the highest highs and lowest lows of combat can be captured in a single moment, this was it. For a Stuart tank to knock out a Mark V Panzer was almost unheard of. But only moments earlier, the tank immediately behind Sergeant Max Lutcavish’s tank was struck by an armor-piercing shell from the Panzer and burst into flames. That tank’s commander was Sergeant Everett McNulty, who took the place of Sergeant Harold Heckler when Heckler was killed accidentally by a member of his crew. The three surviving members of Heckler’s crew — gunner Joseph Ezerskis, driver Arthur Roselle and assistant driver/bow gunner Stanley Jezuit — all of whom came from Detroit, also died in McNulty’s tank.

I didn’t interview George Mauzer of D Company, but he either called Andy Schifler while I was visiting, or Andy called him, and he put me on the phone. We didn’t speak long, but he said that Sergeant McNulty, the tank commander, was so badly burned that as he leaned out of the turret, he begged somebody to shoot him. Mauzer said nobody did; but I could hear him getting choked up on the other end of the phone.

Like many original members of D Company, Max Lutcavish started out in the 11^th (horse) Cavalry at Camp Seeley in the California desert, and was probably one of the more colorful characters in the company.

“Lutcavish – the boy I was trying to think of that was in D Company was Max Lutcavish,” said Dess Tibbitts, a tank driver in A Company. “I met Max when we went to tank school in Kentucky, and boy, he was a rounder. One time we was over there in France somewhere and we used to get that canned heat; if you squeeze it, it was pure alcohol and it was wood alcohol, but them guys would take grapefruit juice, mix it up, and old Max come up to the tank and he says, ‘You got any canned heat?’

“And I said, ‘Yeah, we’ve got some, Max, but you don’t want it.’

“’Yeah,’ he says, ‘I’m gonna go on a careful drunk.’ He wouldn’t say ‘I’m going to get drunk.’ He was going to go on a ‘careful drunk.’

“Well, he got on a careful drunk all right. I’ve seen him a half-hour later, he couldn’t stand up. He’d squeezed that stuff. But the first reunion I went to, I had his name and address at the time, and phone number, and when I got into Louisville I called him and he come down and picked me up at the train station and took me to the reunion. And I missed him there, I didn’t get to see him any more when I was there, but then when I got back to Chicago I called him again, we talked on the phone for a half-hour and that was the last time … the next year I sent him another Christmas card, and his wife wrote back and she said Max passed away. He had a rare disease that killed him then.”

13 August 1944

Sgt. Lutcavish’s tank and the remaining three crew members were brought back to the Company during the morning. The tank had been patched to a running condition by Tec. 4 Godfrey the night before by salvaging parts from Sgt. McNulty’s tank. Lt. Godfrey and his remaining section of tanks moved into the vicinity of Damigni to await orders. About 1000 this section, with a Platoon from Rcn. Troop, moved on the main road toward Carrouges, France. At Chahaines, contact with the French 2^nd Armored Division was made, and this Rcn. Force moved into Carrouges about 1800. The Company moved at about 1330 through Alencon to an assembly area N.E. of the town at 311-859. The 1^st Platoon was relieved from duty with the Rcn. Troop and was withdrawn to this area about 2200.

14 August 1944

The Company performed maintenance during themorning. At 1200, the 2^nd Platoon under Lt. O’Brient joined “B” Company to support the 359^th Infantry Regiment in mopping up the East half of Foret Decouves. The Platoon returned to the assembly area about 1800 without any action. The 3^rd Platoon under Lt. Coe joined “C” Company to support the 357^th Infantry Regiment in mopping up the West half of Foret Decouves. This group remained in an assembly area for the night in the vicinity of 290-100.

15 August 1944

The 3^rd Platoon returned to the Company assembly area about 0800. Maintenance was performed until about 1400 when the entire Company was alerted to move to Gesnes le Gondeloin to secure the town and to protect the movements of the 90^th Infantry Division troops through Alencon. The Company moved at 1500 and was in a position by 1630, reinforced by a platoon of infantry from the 358^th Infantry Regiment.

16 August 1944

The Company continued to outpost Gesnes le Gondelin until it was ordered to return to the Battalion assembly area North of Sees at Boisville, France. The Infantry Platoon and three Italian prisoners, picked up by the Infantry, were brought up on the tanks. The distance traveled was 22.6 miles and the Company closed into this area at 2030.

17 August 1944

The Company remained in the assembly area all day. Two sets of tracks were replaced and odd maintenance jobs were performed. Four replacements were received, making the Company still 12 men short of authorized strength.

18 August 1944

The Company moved at 0815 to a new assembly area at Montaiga, France, (465-402), and closed into this area at 0915. The distance traveled was 9 miles. Maintenance details were performed during the day. The Company was held in Division Reserve in the event of an enemy attack from the east of Nonant le Pin. Possible defense positions were reconnoitered during the afternoon by Captain Wagnon and Lt. Godfrey.

Captain Wagnon was Alton Wagnon, the D Company commander, a.k.a. the “old man” who threatened the company clerk with a court martial if he was caught making a copy of the company journal, according to Dale Albee. Lieutenant O’Brient, however, spoke highly of the C.O.

“When we broke out from Normandy, I don’t remember the day but I remember it was at night,” O’Brient said, “and we were in a barn and by lanterns we looked at the map, and we got briefed on what we were gonna do and which way we were gonna go. And Colonel Randolph (Col. George Randolph was the battalion commander) was there. Al Wagnon was there. I was there. Gene Godfrey was there, and even Harry Coe was there; we were all there. We got briefed that night, and then we took right off. It was a clear night and we were headed for Le Mans.

“So Colonel Randolph says, ‘O’Brient. Your platoon will lead out of here, and then comes Godfrey, here comes Coe, and the other, A Company,” I’ve forgotten now how the organization was exactly. So we took right off, and we headed towards St. Lo, that was the first place. And I guess you know, you’ve heard about St. Lo, what happened there, they had that bomb line, and the clouds, from the smoke, and that’s where General McNair got killed [in a friendly-fire bombing]. But it was because of the wind causing that thing to shift, and the bombers did the best they could. They were not supposed to bomb behind that line. So anyway, that’s what happened there. But then, away we go. And my platoon was picked to go, and so we were just charging right on down the road, and then it was sometime during the morning, in other words, from that night, we stopped and filled up with gasoline, with the jerry cans, and got it all in, and take off again. Then all of a sudden, here’s, and I can’t remember his name, I don’t know if I’ve got the name right or not, was there an assistant division commander for the 90th Division then by the name Williams? General Williams?”

“Weaver?” I asked.

“Weaver, that’s who it was!” [This likely would have been General William “Wild Bill” Weaver of the 90th Infantry Division. According to CoPilot AI, Task Force Weaver was from 5 to 9 August of 1944] He came up behind my tank, and [Leon] Ziebarth was right behind me. And Zeke says, ‘The general wants to talk to you.’

“I said, ‘Okay.’ So we stopped, I got out, and jumped down off the tank onto the ground, went back and reported to him.

“He says, ‘O’Brient. I just want to tell you one thing. This is not a reconnaissance. This is a pursuit.’

“‘Yessir.’”

“He says, ‘Let’s go.’

“And we did. And what do you know, I’ll bet you we didn’t go, I don’t know, we went a little bit a straight stretch down the road, and I’m trying to remember about where we could have been. I can’t remember the name of that little place. But here is a [roadblock]. All these trees had been cut down and the road was blocked, and right in among all that was a Tiger tank with its 88 pointed out. But the good Lord was with us for a little while. Because those guys were not in the tank. It was a nice warm sunny day, I remember, and they were laying out in the sunshine taking a sunbath, thank god. So here we started, we’re shooting just as hard as we can go. They let go, now maybe Andy might reinforce what I’m telling you. I think, the best I can remember, it almost had to be a high velocity shell, an HE [high explosive]. It hit, okay, as you face the tank, it would have been over to the right, so if you’re driving it would have been on the driver’s side. It hit the tread and just disintegrated the thing. So there we ain’t gonna move with that tank for a while. And I don’t know exactly how this happened, but I guess it was from the concussion. I was sitting up in the turret, the hatch was open, and somehow I found myself on the ground. So either I, from the concussion or whatever, maybe I hit the deck and then from the deck to the ground, I don’t know, but anyway, the next thing I know I’m laying there on the ground but okay, no shrapnel, nothing. I mean, just pretty shook up.

“Now [Joseph] Midlar had gotten out. Charlie Miller was my gunner, he was out. The loader, I can’t remember. But I looked and saw him. So then I took off running for Ziebarth’s tank and I got up on his tank and got around behind the tank and I said, ‘Okay, Zeke, come on, let’s get going.’

“Something happened kind of interesting. In that time frame, and by the time I could get up on the tank, what I was trying to do was to see if we couldn’t get around behind that tank. And for some reason, the tank didn’t fire. But then here comes the fighter aircraft, and we had the panels identifying who’s who [American tanks had cerise panels to identify them to friendly aircraft]. And that tank just turned around and took off down the road. Of course we were coming right after him, firing at him. But what happened was, the fighter put a round, I forgot now what they were using, but it hit the tank and knocked it out. And then pretty soon we caught up to it and saw what had happened. So the crew had been killed, I saw, I remember, one of the, I don’t know what his position would have been at that point, but he had to be the gunner or the tank commander, but he was dead, hanging half in and half out. So we saw that. We looked around. And I think it was Ziebarth, and he says on the radio, ‘Hey, did you see that?’ And I looked again, I said, ‘What?’

“He said, ‘There’s a round in the muzzle of his tank.’

“So somebody, I don’t know who did it, whether it was Ziebarth or Miller or who, put a round right into that, so he couldn’t fire anymore. I mean, he was scared to fire anymore. So we saw that, but we kept moving, because I know the general said, ‘Come on, move.’

“I remember from there, it wasn’t too far that we came into a whole abandoned column of vehicles, some smoking, but we didn’t see anybody. Whoever lived from it, they had long gone. So it was a kind of eerie feeling to be riding along there and listening to engines running, not seeing anybody, and it was really because the Air Force had showed up and they were strafing and doing all kinds of things. So we went through there, and the next thing I know, I see Colonel Randolph coming. And then behind him, I see a whole column of tanks coming, the rest of the 712th. So I guess that Colonel Randolph decided to bring the full force to bear on this force because they were trying to flee, they were trying to get out of that, now this was just before Le Mans. And then all of a sudden, I find that I’m in the back of Captain Wagnon’s jeep and he’s briefing me about what we’re gonna do. He had been briefed while I’m going through all this. We turned and headed north up to Falaise, up to the Gap. And that’s the first time I knew what was really happening, with the American forces coming from this side and the British and Canadians from the other side, and we were trying to trap the German Seventh Army before they could get out of there. So that’s what we did, and we started closing the thing. And then the rest of the 712th Tank Battalion was coming in also.”

(to be continued. Holy cow! This is a much bigger project than I thought at first, but it’s pretty interesting, no? What do you think? Let me know in the comments.)

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P.S. The village of Perier in Normandy is not to be confused with Periers, also in France, of bottled water fame/notoriety, although the brand is called Perrier. Go figure.

For Part 1, click here

The entries in the D Company, 712th Tank Battalion log for most of the next two weeks are missing, but the battalion after action reports note that from 15-24 July, D Company was in reserve. Also from the after action reports:

25 July 1944

In reserve. Company officers made reconnaissance for company assembly area at (275-775) at 0630 and stood by during the day.

26 July 1944

Company moved to new company assembly area at (275-775) at 0630 and stood by during the day.

Now, back to the D Company log:

27 July 1944

The company attached to 359^th Inf. Regt., Company moved to 270-746 at 1600, 1^st Platoon in support of 3^rd Bn., and 3^rd Platoon in support of 1^st Bn. The 1^st Platoon moved into Perier as the first armored units into the town. When five enemy tanks were seen 1 mile S. of the town, the platoon stood by while a medium tank platoon in Company B placed fire on the enemy tanks. The 3^rd Platoon moved through Perier to 282-715. One section* of this platoon with a section of medium tanks from Company B, and an Infantry Platoon made a left hook on the enemy tank position. On this move, one tank leading the column, commanded by S/Sgt. Reynolds, struck a series of enemy mines and the tank was totally destroyed. The driver, T/4 Jenkins and the bow gunner, Pfc. Cerullo, were killed, and the tank commander, S/Sgt. Reynolds and the gunner, Cpl. Holt were injured and evacuated. The 3^rd Platoon spent the night at 282-715. After the enemy tanks were destroyed, the 1^st Platoon withdrew to 275 and spent the night.

*There were two “sections” in a platoon of five tanks. The first section comprising the first three tanks, with the platoon leader commanding the first tank; and the second section, if the platoon was at full strength, of two tanks, with the platoon sergeant commanding the first of the two. In this instance it would appear that it was the second section leading the column.

This entry is followed by an inserted page. The insert’s author is not named, but if I had to venture a guess I would look at Sergeant Reynolds, the tank commander, who may have written it or given a statement after recovering from his injuries:

It was the 27^th of July, 1944. “The sun was unusually hot and the roads unusually dusty. The blueness of the sky was clouded only from attack bombers leveling the town of Perier to a mass of dust and debris. Rolling billows of smoke arose from our right and the air was contaminated with the pungent odor of powder smoke and death.

The five light tanks of the 3^rd Platoon were pulled into a field about 500 yards E. of Perier waiting to get into action. A barrage was falling and the infantry was moving up in between the shell bursts, but the main advance was held up due to some unknown resistance up ahead. Finally the big picture was ready. Four Mark V tanks were reported holding up the advance of the Division. The mission – two of the Platoons’ light tanks, 34 and 35, were to lead three medium tanks mounting a platoon of infantry towards the enemy tanks, and then act as flank protection with the possibility of getting in a few hooking blows while the mediums attempted to knock out the Mark V’s. The mission was far from a tasteful one as the enemy had the advantage of concealment, exactly what was ahead was unknown, and the roads had not been swept for mines. There was a feeling of a suicide mission ahead.

The terrain opened up, displaying larger fields and small, rolling hills. At least it gave one a good feeling to be leaving the dogged hedge-row country behind. That had been Hell too. The road led through woods and a curve was ahead. Curves were always good places to lay mines, and somehow there was a feeling that this curve was ‘it.’ They had to go onwards. Before they started they were told to go regardless of what was ahead. The leading tank commander, S/Sgt. Charles L. Reynolds, told his driver to slow down to a creep. Slowly and tensely the lead tank edged its way carefully around the curve and then it happened. There was aloud explosion, a dense cloud of black smoke and flying particles, and the strong odor of cordite. When the smoke had cleared, the twisted and torn wreckage of what had once been a tank could be seen upside down on the road. There was a hole across the road 3 feet deep, 5 feet wide. Approximately 9 Teller mines had been set off, stacked three deep.

Although it was bombed into “a mass of dust and debris” in order to liberate it, the town of Perier, France, has done more to honor the 90^th Infantry Division, to which the 712^th was attached for most of the war, and to make its veterans feel comfortable than any other village in Europe, including those in the Battle of the Bulge. This is largely due to the efforts of historian Henri Levaufre, who was a boy in Perier when it was bombed; and his son Christian Levaufre, who has carried on with and expanded his father’s work.

In addition to the monument to Hill 122 with the names of nine tankers in C Company of the 712^th who died in that battle, a statue in the village square honors four young men who lost their lives liberating Perier, including Sergeant Tullio Micaloni of B Company; and in the last two years a monument has been placed at the site where the D Company Stuart tank ran over a series of mines.

Although two crew members by some kind of miracle survived the flipping of the tank, two infantrymen from the 90^th Division who were riding on the tank were crushed to death.

Hilding Freeberg was among the maintenance crew that arrived on the scene.

“They were going through this little road, and they had infantry with them, following them, and a lot of the infantry got up on the tank and rode with them,” Freeberg said in 1995. “Why walk when you can ride? They were going slow, and they hit a mine, and I understand that there was not just one mine, they had four mines and stacked on each side, and it blew the tank completely upside down. So the guys that were in the bottom of the tank, they were only half left. And the fellow that was the tank commander, he got out, they were up on top and they just jumped off [actually they were badly wounded and had to be helped out of the tank]. Which a lot of the infantrymen did, too. A lot of the infantrymen were underneath that tank when it went over, so that was a pretty bad thing. And our lieutenant had to find the guys’ dog tags.”

“Who was your lieutenant?” I asked.

“Hiatt,” Hilding said.

Lambert Hiatt, who can be seen holding a dagger in his teeth in the photo of the D Company men with Mohawk haircuts, was the officer in charge of the maintenance section.

Although two infantrymen were crushed when the tank flipped over, the number was as high as five in my interviews with Hilding and Ed “Smoky” Stuever, the maintenance sergeant who led the recovery. I believe Smoky mixed up the number of remains with a similar incident during the Battle of the Bulge in which a truck carrying 150-millimeter shells went over a cliff, crushing as many as five men. Through exhaustive research, Christian Levaufre, with research help from Kaye Ackermann, whose father was in A Company of the 712^th, was able to identify the two infantrymen who were crushed.

At the 1995 Louisville reunion of the 712^th Tank Battalion, I interviewed Eugene Sand, a mechanic in Service Company. He was among the personnel who arrived on the horrific scene.

“D Company one time had a light tank, this was in Perier,” he said. “We went through the town, and there was kind of a main road went on through, and a light tank from D Company took one of the side roads; it was just a dirt road, they went down there a ways and they hit – the Germans had put a row of mines across the road, and they stacked them two or three deep, and then they covered it all over. And D Company come along with a light tank, they had a couple of infantry boys following behind the tank. When it hit those land mines, that light tank flipped completely over and bounced on top of the turret, right on top of those infantry guys, and that was a kind of a gruesome mess that time. They said ‘Go up and clear the road.’”

“So the infantry guys were killed too?” I said.

“Yeah. Oh,man, they were smashed flat. What is it, 17 tons in a light tank? If seventeen or nineteen tons of steel lands on top of you, you’re smashed. We weren’t positive I don’t think whether there were two or three guys there, but we scraped up the remains and wrapped them up in a raincoat and put a marker there, a rifle or something there, put it in the ground there, for the grave details to come along and pick them up. The driver and the assistant driver in that tank were still in there when we moved it. The blast went through the bottom of the tank and took all the flesh off of their legs; just their old GI shoes were still on their feet, but the flesh was off of their legs from that blast.”

“You could see that?”

“We saw ‘em, yeah. But we didn’t take ’em out, we just left ’em in there. Somebody else, that wasn’t our job, to get the bodies out. Our job was to clear the road. See, the infantry guys were in the road, so we scraped them up and wrapped them up in an old raincoat or something.”

“And they were mangled, or had been crushed?” I asked.

“Yeah, totally. Mutilated. Just smashed. Like I said, we really, it was hard to tell whether there were two or three.”

A little while later that day I was talking with a pair of veterans, one of whom, Sam Vice, I had met previously, while the other I hadn’t seen at previous reunions.

“First of all, tell me your name,” I said.

“William Holt,” he replied.

“Serial number?” I asked.

“My old serial number was 31317205. Don’t ask me my Social Security number, though.”

“He, like myself, we stayed in a little longer than the rest of them did,” Sam Vice said.

“I wound up with over 20 years” in the service Holt said.

“Did you go to Korea?”

“Oh, yah,” he said.

“I didn’t go to Korea,” Sam said.

“Who was your crew when you went overseas?” I asked Bill.

“Sergeant Reynolds was the tank commander. I was the gunner. And then Jenkins was the driver, and Cerullo was the assistant driver.”

Bill mentioned that he was in the hospital when I asked him about another event involving D Company, and I asked him how he was wounded.

“The tank was blown up by mines,” he said. “Jenkins and Cerullo were killed.”

Suddenly it dawned on me I was speaking with one of the survivors of the incident Eugene Sand had described only an hour or so before! That exclamation point doesn’t begin to do justice to my surprise. There were 765 men in the 712^th Tank Battalion, 1,165 including replacements such as Sam Vice. What are the odds, I thought.

“This is unbelievable,” I said, “but I could take a tape out of here and play it back; I was just talking to Eugene Sand, who said that his recovery unit was sent to retrieve a D Company tank near Perier, was it?”

“M-hm.”

“That had come across, I have chills, that had come across a string of mines.”

“Yeah,” Bill said.

“And you were in that tank? He said he thought two people survived.”

“Reynolds and myself lived through it.”

“What were the circumstances when you went down that road? Do you remember what the objective was or what the orders were?”

“No, not for sure.”

“What happened when it hit the mine?”

“I just felt a jar on the tank, and when I woke up I was upside down, and the tank was upside down, I’m not sure.”

“You were knocked out?”

“I just felt a jar. I never even heard it.”

“Do you know how you got out of the tank?”

“I got out through the front of the tank, somehow, with the help of, I don’t know. I was helped out, I’m sure, both Reynolds and myself. And we both wound up in the hospital.”

“What kind of injuries did you sustain?”

“Oh, just a bunch of cuts and bruises and splinters of steel.”

“How long was it before you came back to the outfit?”

“That happened in July and I came back in November.”

“When you came back, were you antsy?”

“I didn’t worry about it?”

“No?”

“Not really. Expected it all the time, didn’t worry about it. Our tank was blown up again after that. By mines, the same thing.”

“Was anyone killed in that one?”

“No. And the tank in back of us also was blown up.

“Was you a believer in cats?” Sam Vice asked. “I mean, you thought your nine lives was a-running out on you?”

“The tank in back of us was also blown up, there was one man in it killed. The driver was killed. Slick was his name.”

“Was it during the Battle of the Bulge? Was snow on the ground?”

“I think the Bulge was over.”

“Now at that point, who was your lieutenant?

“Albee.”

28 July 1944

The Bns. to which the Platoons were attached moved forward quickly, meeting no enemy resistance. The 1^st Platoon moved to Perier but could not rejoin the Infantry Bn. due to road restrictions. The 3^rd Platoon moved to 269-640 to support the Infantry Bn. which had reached this point. The entire company and Tank Bn. assembled at 287-650 about 2200.

29-31 July 1944 (from after action reports)

In reserve. Maintenance of vehicles.

1 August 1944

The Company was alerted to move at 2330 after spending the day in the assembly area approximately two miles E. of St. Sauver de Lendelin.

2 August 1944

The company moved with the Bn. Rcn. Platoon and the command half-track via Coutance and Avranches and arrived at 0500 in the vicinity three miles N.E. of St. Hilaire, France. Several halts were made on this 55-mile trip. Three points initially were seized and held. The 3^rd Platoon under Lt. Coe held a cross-road about two miles N. of Naftel. The 2^nd Platoon under Lt. O’Brient held the cross-roads at Naftel. The 1^st Platoon under Lt. Godfrey held the river crossing N.E. of St. Hilaire until about 1500, when, with Infantry, the town of St. Hilaire was taken. About 2100, the Platoon was attached to an Infantry force and started a move on Louvigne de Desert. The 2^nd Platoon with the Division Rcn. Troop reconnoitered to the E. via Lemons [Le Mans?] taking several prisoners. The 3^rd Platoon was withdrawn to the Company assembly area at Naftel about 1700.

3 August 1944

The 1^st Platoon arrived at Louvigne de Desert about 0300 and established necessary road blocks. About 1800 this Platoon, with two squads of Infantry, occupied the town of Landivy and set up security for the night. The 2^nd and 3^rd Platoons from the Division Rcn. Troop reconnoitered roads in the vicinity of Mortain and Bouis during the day. The Company C.P. remained at Naftel.

4 August 1944

The 1^st Platoon was withdrawn from Landivy de Desert about 0900 to the assembly area at Naftel. The Company as a whole spent the day on maintenance. Two sections, one from the 2^nd Platoon and one from the 3^rd Platoon, with the Bn. Rcn. Platoon made a reconnaissance in the vicinity S.E. of St. Hilaire. All men and vehicles had returned by 2100.

5 August 1944

The entire Battalion with the 90^th Division Rcn. Troop moved at 0600 through Landivy, spearheading a drive by the Division on Mayenne, France. The Company followed the Rcn. Troop. On the outskirts of the town, the force met enemy resistance about 1500. The Company was used for Division security and column flank security. About 2200, the town was taken and the Battalion moved through Mayenne to an assembly area about one mile E.

6 August 1944

The 2^nd Section of the 2^nd Platoon under S/Sgt. Murphy set up a road block at 0200 on a road leading N. from Mayenne. During the night this section destroyed two enemy wheeled vehicles and several of the enemy. It returned to the Company assembly area about 0800. At 1330, the Battalion was ordered to move on Le Mans; Just before moving out, enemy artillery fire held up this move for about two hours. The column moved about 1500, but met strong enemy counter-attacks after moving E. about one mile. The Battalion assembled in this vicinity for the night.

7 August 1944

The Company, as part of the Battalion moved back through Mayenne at 0500 and halted S of the river for the purpose of reorganizing the force. The 2^nd Platoon under Lt. O’Brient moved with the Rcn. Troop S.E. out of Vaiges, France, to reconnoiter for a new route to encircle the enemy troops at St. Jean. This unit reached its objectives overlooking St. Jean about 1600. The remainder of the company, led by the 1^st Platoon, was ordered to move through Chammes and then S. to St. Jean. Before reaching Chammes, the Company came under enemy fire of all kinds and S/Sgt. Prasek was injured slightly. Sgt. Lutcavish took his own tank, the three remaining members of Sgt. Frasek’s crew, and joined the platoon almost immediately. The 1^st and 3^rd Platoons established a base of fire and the medium tanks and Infantry took the town about 2100. When the force started to move E. of it about 2200, enemy fire caused it to withdraw.

8 August 1944

The Company moved into an assembly area about 0200, two miles W. of Chammes. At 0500, the force started its move on Le Mans again back through Vaiges and straight E. to Le Mans. The Company was following the Division and Battalion Rcn. Units closely. In the vicinity of Chassile, the 2nd Platoon under Lt. O’Brient moved ahead as the point. The Platoon was ordered to move quickly until it was stopped by enemy resistance. After running through many enemy positions held by Bazookas and small arms fire, the Platoon was fired on by A.T. guns near Longnes. S/Sgt. Murphy’s tank, 24, was hit and the crew was badly shaken, though none were believed to be seriously injured. Pfc. Bourgeouis and Pvt. Sczmasek were evacuated. The Platoon established a base of fire, and Lt. O’Brient, Lt. Warfield, and Sgt. Ziebarth slipped back to the disabled tank and put fire on two enemy towed 20 mm guns. Both guns were destroyed and hits were scored on other enemy vehicles. The force then moved on with the 3^rd Platoon under Lt. Coe as the point. Many destroyed enemy vehicles were encountered and some were fired on. Near Coulans, France, strong enemy forces were encountered and medium tanks and infantry, artillery and air corp were called on. The column continued to move on though two tanks of the 3^rd Platoon had been abandoned due to their being inoperative. These two crews moved ahead on foot. Upon approaching Chaffeur-Notre Dame, the three remaining tanks were fired on by A.T. guns. This was believed to be a friendly gun that had come into the town with another force. The driver, Tec. 5 Bockhorn, was killed when dismounting from his already disabled and burning tank. Pvt. Hancock, the bow gunner, suffered a serious foot injury when the tank was hit. He was evacuated. Contact with the friendly troops in town was made and several prisoners had been taken by Sgt. Shortall and his two dismounted tank crews.

From Find-a-Grave: Pvt. Henry Bockhorn was a member of D Company of the 712 Tank Battalion, attached to the 90th Infantry Division. He was killed in action near Chaffour-Notre Dame, France. He was originally buried in the U.S. Military Cemetery in St. James France., but his mother, who emigrated from Germany to the United States before Henry was born requested that his body be laid to his final resting place in a family tomb in her home town of Uthlede, Kreis Wesermünde, Hanover, Germany.

(to be continued)

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Part 1

“The Best ‘Little’ Tank Company in the E.T.O.” That’s the working title of my newest project. It’s about D Company, 712th Tank Battalion, comprising three platoons of five so-called “light” 17-ton Stuart tanks each, armed with a 37-millimeter cannon that many of its members called a “pea shooter.”

To be fair, I can’t say for certain there were no better “light” tank companies; every tank battalion had one in its table of operations, and just about every veteran thinks his outfit was the best, whether it was the best squad in the platoon, the best platoon in the company or the best division in the war. Fact is, there isn’t a lot written about the Stuart tanks compared with their iconic big brother Sherman. What I will say is between their triumphs and tragedies, “little” D Company of the 712th put together an impressive record, as evidenced by a journal kept by the company clerk through 11 months of combat and passages from several of my interviews with D Company veterans.

Many passages in the journal were condensed in the battalion’s after action reports, minus most of the names and much of the detail. Dale Albee, a company veteran who received a battlefield commission, had a copy of the journal. He sent one copy to his brother Darrell and another to Paul Wannemacher, the battalion secretary. When Paul passed away, his widow sent me a box of battalion records, and these included Paul’s copy of the D Company log.

It’s preceded by a note from Dale to Paul.

“Dear Paul & Ann,” it begins. “Finally getting this history of “D” Co. off to you Paul. It is the one I made up for my brother who twice went over and retraced a large part of our route. It shows that little ‘D’ and their small tanks did a pretty good job as well as everyone else. Even tho we sure had to call for help a lot of times from our big brothers in the Shermans.”

“Dear Darrell,” Dale wrote in a letter that accompanied the copy he sent his brother, “Many days are missing from this journal as the Company Commander found out the clerk was keeping a carbon copy and he threatened to court martial him if he did it again. Therefore if the old man was around he had to be careful so no extra copies were made. But with what is here will give you a pretty good idea of what went on.

“Any time you see 3rd Platoon, think of me.

“Love, Brother Dale.

P.S. When you read about 1 man from each tank dismounting and working like Infantry remember I never asked once for any member of my tank to dismount. I was the leader so I dismounted. Time & time again. As you will read on several occasions I dismounted and led my tanks on foot. And truthfully scared as hell all the time.”

The journal is preceded by a copy of another letter. The copy was sent to another of Dale’s brothers.

“Hi Jake,” the note begins. “Here is a copy of the letter I wrote to myself the night before I was to ship out and return back home from the war. I was leaving alone as I had enough points. Had I been there a month more I could have returned with our Tank Bn. Boy I was one scared, worried little soldier then and for many months — no years, thereafter. Love, Brother Dale.”

Dale’s letter to himself

How hard it is to share with someone who was not there the joy of knowing you were going home but at the same time the deep sadness that you had. The sadness of leaving friends who had shared the toughest, meanest and most terrible years of our lives. Ones who had protected you and you them in the deadly game of life and death.

To know that suddenly the world you had known of fear — loneliness —and that you could live or die all too quickly in one split second was now to be left behind. But ahead what. We had been away so long. So used to another way of life. We had become animals — now we had to convert back to decent, lovable, caring human beings again. Would people understand and give us help and above all time to reconvert ourselves. One minute we were trained killers and suddenly we were transported to another world. It had taken long hours and days for us to become full of hatred for our enemy and to learn to kill without feeling or remorse. I must train myself away from sights — sounds — smells. A red flash of light from a hillside, down the road or in a village meant enemy fire — how would I react to police & fire engines when I first saw their red light or saw even a sudden burst of light. Isn’t it strange to be a person that thought he had known all types of fear and now to be faced with one that eats at your heart even tho those wonderful words have finally come. You are going home. Lord give me the strength to cope with this new and unexpected fear. To one who had resigned himself to death — with little hope of making it all the way without death or horrible mutilation was almost impossible for me to hope for. Now alive and with orders to return home I am so scared I could cry. Can I convert back now from a killing machine to the decent, loving and caring person my wonderful parents taught me to be. Please Please Lord — help me once again.

The D Company Log (with occasional elaboration from my interviews)

(The battalion’s first day of combat was July 3, 1944. The entry for July 3 and part of July 4 are missing, but I have supplied the D Company entries from the battalion after action reports, which were probably extracted from the log)

July 3, 1944

The company, less the company rear echelon, moved with the Battalion, at 0545, to an area 300 yards Southwest of Franquetot, France and arrived at 0635. The company was in 90^th Infantry Division Reserve. The 1^st Platoon under 1^st Lt. Eugene T. Godfrey moved to the vicinity 1000 yards Southeast of Pont Auny, France to support the 3^rd Battalion, 358^th Infantry Regiment. This platoon with the Battalion assault gun platoon attacked with the Infantry during the afternoon. Two assault guns were lost and one enemy tank (Mark IV) was destroyed, and members of crews reported hits on enemy personnel. The Platoon rejoined the company at 2300. Approximately 100 rounds of 37 mm and 800 rounds of .30 cal. ammunition were fired. There were no casualties.

I have written extensively about the two 105 millimeter assault guns in which one man, Richard Howell, was killed and others wounded, but I did not previously know that a platoon of light tanks was involved in the battle.

Walter Galbraith was the first D Company veteran I spoke with, probably at the 1992 or 1993 mini-reunion in Bradenton, Florida. I asked him what it was like inside the light tank.

“It was hot,” he said. “That’s why you had that helmet on. If you ever forget sometime, and you lean your face and just bump it, and you’d never take your helmet off again. And I always wore my helmet up this way; I couldn’t stand it over my ears, so I’ve got pictures of me, no matter where I was, I looked like a Viking. But they were fast, and they were cold in the wintertime.”

“What was it like your first day in combat?”

“Oh, god,” Walter said. “The first day that we went across, we had just landed and I was talking to a lieutenant. We saw some dead GIs, and then some dead horses and cows. They were all puffed up like a balloon. I was more ascared of the dead Germans than I was of the live ones. You’d see them with their eyes, grotesque looking. So I’m talking to the lieutenant, he’s dead now, Lieutenant Coe, he was my tank commander, and we’re standing talking, and phwee, a bullet went by us. So we both went down. And then one night, the German plane came over, we called it Bedcheck Charlie, and when the tracer would go up, it was like it was raining upside down. So I’m on my tank, and we slept in our tank, so anyway, I’m watching these infantry guys; they dug a hole this way and that way, a slit trench, and they put hay down there. I thought, they’ve got it made. So they moved out, and when they did, I jumped out of my tank and went down there, and it was so nice, for about two minutes, when our artillery was on the other side of the [hedgerow], and it let go, and when they let it go, the whole ground just vibrated, and I jumped out of that gosh darn trench and went back around on the other side of my tank.

“Going back to the first day in combat,” I said.

“I remember going into an area, and Lieutenant [Coe] getting out of there to find out where we were, because we never knew anything, all we knew is we’re here. So he got out of the tank, and while he got out of the tank, he left us in a wide open space. I could see for miles; a hedgerow, you couldn’t see from here to there, and all of a sudden we’re in the open, and then the Germans started shelling us. So we stood there for a couple of seconds, with the shells coming over, and I said, ‘Let me get out of here.’ So I said, what the hell platoon I am, ‘Third platoon, move out.’ I grabbed the mic. And we moved out, and down the road we met the lieutenant. He said, ‘What happened?’

“I said, ‘We were being shelled. We were wide open.’ And then I felt like I was being a coward or something.”

4 July 1944

The 1^st platoon returned to the area occupied the day before at 0530. This platoon attacked during the day with Infantry and was under heavy enemy artillery fire most of the day. It returned to the company assembly area at 2100 after firing a comparatively small amount of ammunition. One tank was towed in for maintenance, but there were no casualties.

5 July 1944

The company, attached to the 359^th Inf. Regt., moved to an assembly area at 270-859 [these are coordinates on a 1/25,000 scale map of France]. The company commander and platoon leaders spent most of the afternoon at the 3^rd Bn. C.P. [command post], awaiting orders. The company remained in the assembly area during the night.

6 July 1944

The 3^rd Platoon under 1^st Lt. Harry E. Coe moved into an intermediate position at 267-850 and stood by there until it was withdrawn to the company assembly area about 2000.

The 2^nd Platoon under 2^nd Lt. Lex E. O’Brient was attached to the 2^nd Battalion 358^th Inf. Regt. And moved to an intermediate position at 250-840. It made no attack and withdrew to the company assembly area about 2200. Cpl. James G. Benda, the platoon leader’s gunner, was lightly wounded by enemy artillery and was evacuated.

The 3^rd Platoon under Lt. Coe moved to the vicinity of 263-854 to post security for the 90^th Division C.P. and remained there during the night.

7 July 1944

The 1^st Platoon under Lt. Godfrey moved to 225-847 and the second platoon under Lt. O’Brient moved to 238-839. Both were to support the 358^th Inf. Regt. The 1^st platoon attacked in a south western [direction] with infantry and was mainly responsible for clearing out many enemy positions. There was good support between the tanks and infantry and we advanced about 2500 yards killing many of the enemy. Many of the enemy’s positions were in buildings. One tank commanded by Sgt. Harold J. Heckler overturned on the front lines. Sgt. Heckler and Pfc. Roselle, the gunner, crawled under enemy fire to get assistance to free the two men pinned in the tank. There were no casualties in the crew and the tank was later retrieved. This tank and one other had knocked out a complete enemy mortar platoon. All tanks of the platoon were heavily sprayed at close range by enemy small arms fire making observation poor. The platoon fired its last round at 2250 and withdrew to the company assembly area.

The 2^nd Platoon made three separate tank attacks without Infantry support in a S.E. direction in the vicinity of 242-835. The platoon was under heavy enemy fire during all three attacks. In the first attack, two tanks were lost; one by bazooka and the other threw a track and was later recovered. The Platoon withdrew to the company assembly area about 2300.

During the day, these two Platoons fired approximately 750 rounds of 37 MM and approximately 30,000 rounds of .30 cal. ammunition. The company commander and the 3^rd Platoon Leader reported at 2330 to the C.O. 121^st Inf. Regt., 8^th Inf. Div., at 188-857 for orders.

8 July, 1944

The company, less the company rear echelon, moved to a company assembly area at 0400, (185-869), distance traveled 10 miles, arrived at 0515. The company remained in the assembly area awaiting further orders. The 3^rd Platoon under Lt. Coe moved out to protect the 1^st Bn., 121 Inf. Regt. C.P. This platoon returned after about two hours. Company moved at 1800 to 190-855, took up position to support infantry against enemy counter-attack. The terrain was unsuitable for close tank support. Mny snipers were encountered in this area.

9 July 1944

The company pulled out of the area occupied during previous night and made a wide left hook to vicinity of 210-838 to support the 2^nd Bn. of 121^st Inf. Regt. The 3^rd Platoon under Lt. Coe cleared up many enemy machine gun positions and several tank periscopes were shot out by enemy fire. The company pulled back at 2200 to an assembly area in the vicinity of 218-844.

10 July 1944

The 2^nd Bn., 121^st Inf. Regt. continued to attack in the direction of Hill 112, and was supported by the 1^st Platoon, while the 2^nd and 3^rd Platoons were in reserve. 100 rounds of 37 MM and 4000 rounds of cal. .30 ammunition were expended. All platoons returned to assembly area at 2245.

11 July 1944

The 3^rd Platoon under Lt. Coe moved out early to support the 2^nd Bn. The Platoon supported the Bn’s open right flank while the Bn. commander requested the whole company to move up for support. While the company officers were at the C.P., enemy artillery fell in the vicinity of two company peeps, injuring both drivers slightly. Pvt. Morrison was evacuated and T/4 Freeberg was given 1^st aid treatment. All platoons moved to vicinity of 205-835, but could give little support due to hedgerows. The 1^st Bn. moved to attack Hill 112 around the left flank of the 2^nd Bn. All platoons were withdrawn from the 2^nd. Bn. to support the 1^st, while moving on Hill 112. The 3^rd Platoon under Lt. Coe was attached to the 2^nd Bn., and supported its move to the crest of Hill 112 by close fire support. The 1^st and 2^nd Platoons moved up to the position of the 3^rd Platoon, and fired some .30 cal. ammunition. The company stood by this position to support against enemy counterattack. One tank of the 3^rd Platoon ruined a sprocket during the day. The company withdrew to the company assembly area S.W. of Lithaire, France. T/5 Collum was accidentally injured by a shot through the foot from his own gun when crawling into his tank.

12 July 1944

The 1^st and 3^rd Platoons with a platoon of S.P.T.D’s [self-propelled tank destroyers] moved to an area of 208-820, and stood by to support 1^st Bn. as it moved toward Hill 93. About the middle of the afternoon the entire company moved forward to an assembly area at 225-815, and Hill 92 had been taken. The company spent the night in this area.

13 July 1944

The 2^nd Platoon under Lt. O’Brient moved to Hill 92 to support the 1^st Bn., 121^st Inf. Regt., and cleared several fields. The platoon stayed in this vicinity all afternoon. The 3^rd Platoon under Lt. Coe supported the 2nd and 3^rd Bns. on the west slope of the Hill 92. This platoon lost the Platoon Leader’s tank and Gunner through artillery fire. Pfc. Galbraith, the Gunner, was evacuated. All platoons returned to the company assembly area. At about 2100, the company was instructed to clear the Regt. Sector as another unit was moving in. The company moved to old area S.W. of Lithaire where instructions were received to join the Bn. at 243-835. The company closed into this area at about 2400. The 3^rd Platoon Leader’s tank was evacuated by the company maintenance section. One tank, previously lost by the 2nd Platoon, had by this time been recovered and returned to the company. The company was up to T.O. [table of operation] Strength on vehicles at this time.

“We moved into an area, there was a big ditch,” Walter Galbraith said, “and there was a little, like a little bridge going across, and then we broke into this hedgerow, and when we were there for a while, we heard guys calling ‘Medics!’ And guys kept seeing snipers, and all of a sudden, my tank was the lead tank, so the shells start hitting all around our tank. So what I did was I held myself down. I wouldn’t go out. The lieutenant was gone again. I wasn’t about to leave this time because I felt that if I do this, he’d probably say I’m chicken or something. So the shells come over and the tank would vibrate, and then I don’t know why I did this, I reached outside the tank and I got my steel helmet, because we had the tank helmet, and on the inside of the helmet is a liner, and we had morphine. So I took the helmet and I raised the breech of my gun to hold it – because the lieutenant was gone there was the open hatch, and I was always afraid of a shell coming in there. So I put the helmet there and the shells would come over, and all of a sudden this shell came over, and I don’t know whether it exploded on top of the deal there, anyway, I look at my finger and my finger’s bleeding, and my helmet’s on the floor. So I pick my helmet up, there’s a big hole in the helmet, and it’s like spaghetti, where the shrapnel had gone through, just like spaghetti, just shredded. So I climbed up on top of the tank, and the driver and assistant driver jumped out, and I climbed up on top, and another shell came over, and I went flying through the air and I landed on my back, and I was trying to catch my breath. I wasn’t sure if was wounded because I felt this pang, like someone smacked me in the ass. I had o.d.’s on (olive drab), and long underwear on, the fatigues on, and then this combat thing on, so there was a lot of stuff. I found that I couldn’t move my butt, and so they were hollering ‘Medics! Medics!’ So they said try to get down the road a little. I was pulling myself this way on the ground, and so I came up and then the lieutenant came back, and in the meantime the medics came by, and so he says, ‘Are you wounded?’ And I said, ‘I don’t know. All I know is I couldn’t move myself.’ So he started cutting through all those different clothes. I was afraid he was gonna find nothing. So they opened it up and found I was wounded; I had shrapnel in me. But I had some coins, British coins, and I didn’t know it until later, but it twisted the hell out of the coins. So the shrapnel had hit the coins. But anyway, they said, ‘Get down the road as fast as you can.’

“My tank was on fire, by the way, I forgot about that. Our tank caught on fire. So the lieutenant had to get onto another tank, and they went out through that hedgerow down a way. So while they were gone, I’m dragging myself along, to try to get down the road, and then the medics, the doctor came. So I looked over at the whole thing in the hedgerow, and how the hedgerow goes where I was, and then the road, and I said, ‘Oh, shit, I can’t go over that.’ I was going to go down to where the tanks had taken that fence down [in case] they had to get out of there fast. So I looked up, and then more shells came over, and when they did I just jumped, and I landed on a couple of GIs, and I forget what the hell it was they said. I said, ‘I’m okay. I’ve got to get down the road. So I got down the road, and this jeep with places to put stretchers came, and they said, ‘Hey, a guy’s wounded here.’ So they picked me up, and they put me on this thing, and they took off, and then after a while I couldn’t hear any more fireworks.

“The first medics camp I came to was on fire, where a German shell had just hit it, and so I said, ‘Oh, shit, what a hell of a place to be.’ But I was only there about ten, fifteen minutes; then I was put on a jeep, and I went off, and the next thing I know they put me in a Duck [an amphibious DUKW], and they took me across the channel. And over there, they said, ‘Can you count to ten?’ I said, well shit, I figured they were telling the truth, because we had guys who couldn’t read or write, so anyway, they put me in a Duck, and from there to a hospital ship, and I went to England, to a hospital.”

14 July 1944

The company was attached to the 2^nd Bn., 357 Inf. Regt., 90^th Division to help clear the Peninsula near Gorges, France. The company moved into intermediate position and awaited orders. No enemy resistance was encountered, but many prisoners were taken. Sgt. Harold J. Heckler was accidently killed when preparing to return to the Bn. assembly area. The Bn. moved to an assembly area at 298-803.

Harold Heckler was the first member of D Company to be killed, and his death came as a result of “friendly fire.” Tank driver Andy Schifler, the first D Company veteran to tell me of the incident, would not name Heckler, most likely because his family might not know the circumstances of his death.

“I talked to whatsisname that got killed,” Andy said when I interviewed him in Chicago in 1995, “but I don’t want to mention that (his name), by our own gun.”

“Really?” I asked.

“By our own guns,” Andy said. “I wouldn’t say the name of the guy. It was all an accident. We were all waiting to go; they were supposed to go up on a hill, in order to mount up. I’m talking to him, and he’s right behind a gun where the assistant driver is. He jumped in and he didn’t have the safety on. And I’d just moved away and he shot the guy right in the back.

“I was talking to him. We were resting and talking. And the gun is right behind him. But when they said ‘Mount up,’ I got up and moved a little, and in the meantime when the assistant driver jumped in, the machine gun went off. See, there’s a lot of Americans killed by their own guns...”

“Now the guy who was killed by the machine gun, did he say any last words?”

“No. I just happened to walk away, and I looked back and he’s...”

“The guy who accidentally was responsible for it, were there any repercussions?”

“No, no. Stuff like that, it’s buddy-buddy. You know he didn’t do it on purpose. He’s probably died or I don’t know who the guy was, no, that’d work on a guy’s mind.”

“What do you know about him (Heckler)?” Lex O’Brient asked when I visited him in Albuquerque in 1999.

“When I interviewed Andy Schifler, he would not mention Heckler’s name. He told me what happened, but I believe his family may have thought he was killed in action, but Andy would not say his name because I guess there was a memorial service after the war, and his family didn’t know the circumstances. That was the impression I got.”

“Let me tell you about it,” O’Brient said, “because I was standing right, I had just finished talking to him, and Lord, I don’t remember what I had said, I don’t remember that part. But anyway, I [here he gets choked up]…”

“That’s okay,” I said. “Usually this happens much later (in an interview). I cry a lot listening to these interviews. Take your time. That’s quite all right.”

“Whatever we had been talking about, I turned around and I went back to my tank, and then I heard a burst, about two or three rounds I guess, I don’t know how many. But I turned around and I looked, and there he is lying on the ground. I’ll tell you, I felt awful about that.”

“Was that the first day in combat?”

“About. Pretty much so. I don’t know. [Actually it was the 11^th day in combat] Like I say, I can’t remember what we had been talking about, but anyway, and Andy was there too. Andrew, I tell you, we were just getting ready to move out, and when I saw that – here’s what happened. The man who was the bow gunner on that tank was getting into the hatch and his foot hit the machine gun, the .30-caliber, and I tell you,if I had been standing, I guess if I hadn’t turned around and was in the process of walking away, who knows, maybe it would have been me, but it was not. It was all just a big accident. But when I turned around I was in a state of shock, I mean, there he is, I had just been talking to him, and then to see him there, and that was instant, I mean he, I can right now, I can’t remember whether it caught him in the …”

“I think in the abdomen or the groin,” I said.

“Yeah, because he reached, that’s right, I do remember that. He was kind of, and then after that he was dead. But it just caught him, a couple right in,because, you know, the .30-caliber machine gun is pretty low, and to step on it, and I think in order for that to have happened when the man was getting in the tank, I think his foot must have come up underneath, otherwise it would have never fired. But then he was one of the people I was gonna ak you if you had interviewed anybody, but you did talk to Andy?”

“Andy, and then Hilding Freeberg, and he’s passed away.”

“Freeberg’s passed away now?”

“He died about a year and a half ago. But he was wonderful to meet and talk to.”

“He sure was.”

“It’s funny, when Andy wouldn’t mention Heckler’s name, Hilding said, ‘Did Andy tell you about Heckler?’ So I was able to put two and two together. But what a tragic. What was the mood of his crew when that happened. Were they broken up? Were they hurt? They must have been.”

“Oh, yeah. They were quite hurt about that. Is there anything else I can tell you about that, except that I was talking to him. I turned around to go and we were getting ready to move out, that’s what I remember. Then, of course, I was quite shocked. Within seconds after I finished talking to him, why, I’d just turned around…”

“What did he look like?”

“What I remember about him is he was sandy-haired, and kind of reddish maybe. More sandy-haired but very clean-cut. I couldn’t say exactly how old he was.”

“He was a sergeant, right?”

“Yes.”

“From the horse cavalry?”

“Right.”

“He was one of those who came from Chicago in that trainload of recruits?”

“That’s right. A wonderful person. All of my dealings or knowing him or whatever, he must have come from a wonderful family.”

“They were just out with the light tanks, and they came in” Hilding Freeberg, a mechanic in D Company and a close friend of Heckler’s, said when when I met him in Chicago in 1995, a day after visiting Andy Schifler. “He jumped off the tank, and I think our lieutenant went to talk to them, and greet them. He (Heckler) was standing in front of the bow gunner, and down below, and he hollered up to ‘clear your guns up there.’ When he unloaded the gun, three shots went out, and Heckler was right in front of it.”

“Art Horn loaned me a couple of pictures to use for the book,” I told Dale Albee, and one of them is, if you could identify the people in this picture, that would be a big help.”

“That’s the same picture right here,” Dale said, pointing to his photo album. “Yes indeed, that’s Heckler, Jezuit, Roselle and Ezerskis.”

“Let me write this down. Heckler is here?”

“Yes. That’s Heckler. Old Sad Eyes.”

“Old Sad Eyes?”

“Yeah. Notice, see, in all those pictures, if you’ll look at him, see how his eyes droop right there? Now looking at him drooping right there, and how they droop right there. Because his eyes kind of sagged in, and he always looked kind of under his eyebrows like that, freckled, and one of the nicest people you’d want to know. And a good cavalry man. He went up the line real quick.”

“Was he regular Army like yourself?”

“No, he was another one was brought in from Chicago. One of the Chicago crew. Just one of those people that never gave you any trouble, and was so easy with his crew. His crew was like your hand, they just worked as a team.”

“Did anything like that happen in training?”:

“You know, you have accidents all the time in training. There’s no way in the world you can handle ammunition without having some casualties. And they still do today. And from what all that we learned is that they had their briefing and was getting ready to either move out or come back to the company, and you didn’t clear your guns until you knew that you were gonna come back into the company area, and part of the time you was very careful about it. But for him to clear the gun he would have had to lift the breech, open the breech, remove the belt, and then you operated the operating handle one time. But he got in and somehow or other with an open trigger, he kicked the machine gun and a three-round burst, which meant that the belt was still in the weapon, hit Heckler in the groin.”

“Was he killed instantly?”

“No, because in the groin, I don’t know how long he lived, because it took some time before we ever got the word that he had been killed. I think he was dead, though, before he was evacuated.”

“That must have hurt morale,” I said.

“It would be the same as shooting your brother, because that’s what the crew is. It’s a family. You work and you train andeverybody is dependent on the other, because if one screws up it’s gonna hurt the whole group. And so it’s so automatic that people do things without ever having to give orders. And that’s what Heckler’s crew was. It was just a team. And of course the nice thing about it was, (Sergeant) McNulty was the same way, so he took over the crew, and they operated the same way.”

(to be continued)

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12 July, 1944

When morning came, the 12th, it was a quiet, early dawn. Everything was quiet. You couldn’t hear a shot. In fact, I heard birds singing. I was laying there, and I was really feeling bad. I was feeling so bad that I thought about dying. I wanted to.

Then Jim said, “Give me a cigarette.”

I had cigarettes, but my hands were so huge from the swelling that I couldn’t get into my pocket. The cigarettes were in there, and I wanted one, too.

The next thing he said, he swore a little bit, he said, “Jesus Christ, Jim, you’d better go get some help.”

I said, “Why?”

He said, “I’m getting gangrene in my legs. Can you see a little bit?”

It was hard to talk because I’d swelled up so much. But I knew what he said. I was desperate myself. And everything was quiet. So I crawled out through the hole in the hedgerow. But I turned the wrong way. I was confused, in terms of directions. The tanks were still smoldering. I put my left shoulder to the hedgerow and was crawling along, blind, then I’d stop once in a while and I’d look. And I was trying to call for medics. I don’t know if I got any noise out or not. And I don’t know how far I crawled, but all of a sudden I heard this awful kind of a laugh...

Two days earlier

Jack Sheppard (company commander): There are three Presidential Unit Citations in the 712th. One of them is for the first platoon, C Company. I was with it at the time.

I was taking this tank to Jim Flowers. It was one of his tanks that had been knocked out and we got a replacement for.

We got up on top of the hill and were going down towards Flowers. I was in a jeep leading the tank, with Jim Bailey as my driver, when a lieutenant colonel stopped me. He said, “I need some tanks down there. I’ve got a battalion that’s surrounded by SS and they need tank support but bad.”

I said, “Let me see if I can get Flowers released.” He was with another infantry battalion.

I called the division commander, and he by voice authorized me, so I called up Flowers, and he came back and joined us.

Jim Flowers (lieutenant, platoon leader): I left (Abe) Taylor to get the tanks filled with gasoline and stowed with ammunition. Then I took a map and marked it where I wanted, and I said, “You bring the tanks over there. I’m going ahead to take a look,” to see what the opposition has in store for us.

I got in the jeep with Sheppard. We went back over on Hill 122, and pulled up on the west side, somewhere between that rock quarry and the heavily wooded area.

That’s where I’d marked for Taylor to bring the tanks, and somebody’s got to be there to meet him. So I told Sheppard, you just stay here with Jim Bailey, that was his jeep driver, and when Taylor gets here, just wait for me. If I’m not back within an hour, you’ll know I’m not coming back.

With that, I walked out in the woods and went in an appreciable distance, and I encountered several Germans. They didn’t see me, and I sure wasn’t going to cause any trouble for them right then.

I went in maybe 200 yards. I saw enough to know that the going was not going to be real easy but it’s not going to be disastrous. There’s not all that much stuff out there to stop a tank, not even to slow us down, really. At least I didn’t feel like it at the time.

So I went back, and in the meantime Taylor had arrived with my tanks, and I got my tank commanders together.

He didn’t get there but with four tanks. One of the tanks had engine trouble or something.

We got over to Hill 122 with the tanks. My No. 1 tank, my No. 2 tank, my No. 4 tank, which was Taylor’s tank, and my No. 5 tank. Since Wiley was gone [Sergeant Judd Wiley had been injured by a hatch cover slamming down on his fingers as he went over a hedgerow while holding onto the turret ring), I needed a tank commander. So I said, “Sheppard, you’ve never been in a firefight. Wouldn’t you like to get a little combat experience in a tank?”

I put Sheppard in Taylor’s tank so I could communicate with him, and put Taylor [the platoon sergeant) in Wiley’s tank. Two tanks in the platoon have a two-way radio; the other three only have receivers. Wiley had gone back two days before to get something done about his crushed fingers.

The driver of the No. 4 tank, that’s the one in which I put Sheppard, he wouldn’t go. He wouldn’t drive that tank. They tell me this happened. I didn’t find out about this for probably several years. I often wondered why that man was not in that tank and Bailey was.

Jim Rothschadl (gunner in Lieutenant Flowers’ tank): We had backed off the line, and there was a rumor going around that another tank battalion was going to take our place. We pulled our tanks into a little field, and our kitchen trucks were there.

I remember driving into the field, standing up in the turret. Flowers was outside already, talking with somebody in a jeep.

Sergeant Speier, he was the mess sergeant, he knew I liked pork chops. He used to call me “Pork Chop.” So all of a sudden I heard, “Hey Pork Chop, you hungry?”

I said, “You’re goddamn right!”

And he tossed me up a gallon can of marmalade and a loaf of bread.

We were parked alongside the hedgerow, and somebody came up and said, “You can’t stand outside. You’ve got to get underneath the tank,” because mortar fire might come in.

There was about two feet under the tank, so we crawled under there, and took the gallon can of marmalade – we were so damn hungry – and the loaf of bread. There were four of us, Ed Dzienis, our loader; Gerald Kiballa, the assistant driver; Horace Gary, the driver; and myself. We took a Bowie knife, and we cut open this can of marmalade. And we broke the bread; it wasn’t sliced, so we took chunks off, and we scooped out the marmalade with our hands. We ate the whole gallon.

So we’re laying there, and Sergeant Speier came over and said, “It’ll take about an hour. I’ve got a hot meal for you.” We hadn’t had a hot meal since we left England. About that time, a jeep comes racing into this little field with an officer.

One of our tanks was parked about a hundred feet from our tank, and I noticed a commotion over there. Several people were gathered around it, and people were waving arms. So I walked over there to see what was going on.

And here this guy was, he refused to drive. I couldn’t believe it. “I’m not gonna go,” he was saying. “I’m just not gonna go. The hell with you, I’m not gonna go.” And they put him in a jeep, and away they went. We had been told that the rules of war, if you disobey an order on the front, you don’t have to be court-martialed, they could shoot you right there. They didn’t do that. They took him away.

Sergeant Bailey was the communications sergeant, although he knew how to drive a tank, and damned if he didn’t volunteer to drive that tank.

Louis Gerrard (gunner, Captain Sheppard’s tank): My crew at the time was Earl Holman, Abe Taylor was the tank commander, I was the gunner, G.B. Kennedy was the bow gunner, and then we had a driver, his name was Lochowitz.

I told Flowers, when I was in Louisville [at the 1988 reunion] – that’s the first time I’d seen Flowers since the day we got hit – I told him the guy, he wouldn’t drive the tank, so Bailey said, “Get out. I’ll drive the tank.”

Jack Sheppard: I said to Flowers, ‘There’s only three men in the tank. You need a driver and you need a commander, so Bailey will take over as driver and I’ll take over as commander, but you are the platoon leader, I’m just another tank in your platoon.” He said, “Okay. You follow behind Taylor.” They pulled out in front of me and we pulled along behind them.

Flowers I think fired the machine gun a few times, and all of a sudden we were with this battalion of infantry.

Then we were given orders that we’re going to attack across the road. The road went along a big open field with a hedgerow at the far end. Flowers and K Company of the 358th Infantry were going to take that hedgerow. Famous last words.

Jim Flowers: I led the tanks on into the woods and ran the Germans in front of me until I started seeing some of our own infantry, and I asked them where their battalion commander was. It turned out that this was the 3rd Battalion of the 358th Infantry, and their battalion commander was a man named Jacob Bealke from Sullivan, Missouri, a reserve officer.

When I found Colonel Bealke, he was glad to see me. To say the least, he was glad to see me.

We planned how to get him off of that hill and out of those woods. Some of that brush, it was kind of like a thicket; you couldn’t see through it much less walk through it, and they had been catching hell.

They had managed to capture eight of the Germans that I had run down that way, and from them we found out that this is part of the 15th Regiment of the 5th SS Parachute Infantry Division. These were fairly clean kids. Most of them looked like they might have been in their early to mid-twenties. They had had a bath and a shave recently, and had had something to eat, they had clean uniforms, the whole nine yards. We probably looked like a scurvy bunch of bums by then.

Bealke and I made a plan on how to get out of there. I’d take my tanks and knock this underbrush and thicket down so his infantry could get out. That’s one of the reasons they were trapped in there. I’ll knock some paths through this stuff so y’all can walk behind me to get out.

At first, the infantry was walking in front of me, but that didn’t last long. We hadn’t gone but a short distance and they fell back in line with my tanks. And that didn’t last but a few yards. They just couldn’t get through that stuff, and there was a heavy concentration of German soldiers.

Our plan was to get down the side of the hill, which in some places was pretty steep, and out of the woods onto this hard-surface road, then go on out into the fields on the other side of the road and try to get him up on the line with Pond’s battalion.

Everything worked out according to plan, except for one thing: The infantry got bogged down.

We got down to the hardtop road, and now I don’t know where the infantry is. I had no idea that the Germans were decimating Bealke’s infantry now.

As I come out of the woods and onto that hardtop road, I look both ways and don’t see a damn thing. Everything looks fine, so I go across the ditch and the hedgerow on the other side, and out into a field.

In front of me was a swampy area. I could tell by the vegetation growing there. I got on the radio and told the other tanks to look out for that as they came across the road. Don’t run into that marshy area there and get stuck.

I went around on the right side of this marsh, and as Sheppard came across, why, Bailey ran him out in it and got stuck.

Taylor, who was in Wiley’s tank, and Kenneth Titman, who was in the No. 5 tank, they went around on the left side and went on. Then Sheppard got on the radio and said, “Jim, I’m stuck back here.”

I thought, “Damn!”

“What do you want me to do now?”

“Well, you’ve still got your tank gun, your 75. You can support my advance by fire. When I have an opportunity, I’ll get somebody back there to pull you out of that marsh.”

I went on, and out in this field there’s bushes, weeds and stuff. And there’s a hedgerow up there. I don’t remember if there’s any trees, although there might have been. The thing that I do remember is that the artillery and mortar fire from the German side was falling in on us kind of like hail or raindrops, boy, there was a lot of it.

I’d run quite a distance across the second field in after I crossed the road, and Taylor’s tank and Titman’s tank are off on my left, nothing on my right. After I’d run quite a distance out into that second field, I recall seeing a blinding flash of light and hearing this big bell ringing.

What had happened, the Germans had fired an armor-piercing shot from an anti-tank gun and I saw the muzzle flash. The ringing was that the shell had bounced off of my turret.

I immediately had Gary stop and back up. I’m sure that I’m in a fire lane that they’ve cut.

At the same time, I’m on the radio telling the other tanks to look out for that anti-tank gun and giving them the approximate location of it. Let’s be careful. So after Gary backed up, I had him pull to the right and then go forward. Hopefully I’m out of this guy’s fire line. I’m sure not going to slow down to find out.

As we do that, we hadn’t pulled up too far until, I don’t know whether it was an armor-piercing shot, it might have been a bazooka, I don’t know what it was but it came through the right sponson, where a bunch of ammunition is stored, and ignited the propelling charge in this 75-millimeter ammunition and clipped off my right forefoot, and I suppose that whatever it was probably went out the other side.

Instantaneously, the tank is a ball of fire.

I like to dramatize this a little bit by saying that I’m now standing in the middle of Hell, with all these flames shooting up around me.

I get on the intercom and tell the crew, “Let’s get out of here!” And I reach down and grab Rothschadl, my gunner, who’s sitting in a seat down in front of me. I grab Rothschadl by the shoulders and yank him out of that seat, and start to push him up to get him out of the turret. At this point I don’t know that I’ve been hit.

After I pushed Rothschadl out on top, I turned around to climb out myself, and as I stepped up on that ring around where the top and the bottom of the turret are bolted together, I didn’t have anything to step with. That’s when I realized that something is happening.

I fell down to the bottom of the turret basket, and to this day I don’t know whether I fell or whether it was Dzienis climbing up my back to get out. It’s immaterial anyhow.

Jeanette Flowers (Jim’s wife): You told him to abandon tank.

Jim Flowers: Yes, but don’t drag me down in this barbecue pit!

I pulled myself and crawled out onto the turret and jumped down on the ground, and looked down, and that’s when I saw I didn’t have much of a right foot left.

Fortunately, when I climbed out of the tank, I guess it was a reflex, I grabbed my tommy gun and hung it over my arm, and when I hit the ground, I’m armed. There was a hedgerow in front of me, and the Germans on the other side started shooting at us.

When they knocked out my tank, they got all four of my ranks, right then and there.

Jim Rothschadl: We were told in training, “Don’t freeze.” I guess a few guys did. They got so petrified or frightened they just froze. But I kept saying to myself, “Don’t freeze. Watch.” So I didn’t freeze. But I was damn scared.

The turret had a toggle in it that was electrical, but it also had a little wheel so you could traverse the gun manually. When my tank got hit, the little wheel was right in front of me, and it knocked four of my teeth out.

The Germans were dug in on this hill, hundreds of them. They were close together, with lots of foxholes. And some were on top, working the machine guns.

I was firing the .30-caliber machine gun. I was a little heavy on the trigger. We were told to fire short bursts or the barrel would melt. Dzienis had a pair of big asbestos mittens, and he would screw the barrel off and put on another one. The barrel got so hot that it bent a little bit and the bullets were falling in front of the tank. Meanwhile, they were firing at us with small arms and rifle grenades. The grenades were magnesium. They would weld themselves onto the tank, and almost go all the way through. They would aim at the turret circle. If one hit there you couldn’t turn the turret.

Then the first big shell hit. It lifted the tank about two feet off the ground.

Flowers was looking for the gun. He told me to traverse from the middle to the right. I quit firing the .30 and switched to the 75.

Horace Gary, he was the driver, started swearing, “God damn it! Let’s get out of this sonofabitch, we’re sitting ducks!” And Flowers told me to traverse to the right. I was trying to pick out something but I couldn’t, through the periscope. I did see a heat wave, where the blast was from, and I fired one round in there.

A few seconds later, the second shell hit. There was this humongous explosion, and racket, and heat.

The turret was open. It immediately caught fire. And the shell went right on through. Those German 88s could hit the front of a tank and come right out the back. They had double the velocity of our 75s.

I remember I was burning. I was trying to get up from my little seat. I thought just for a moment about unplugging the radio. But the tank was flaming inside. I got out by myself as far as my armpits. Then I fell back in.

Flowers helped me out. I kind of revived and got some air, and I got out of the turret as far as my belly. Then Flowers let himself off because there wasn’t enough room for the two of us. I saw him fall backwards onto the ground.

When I finally got out I let myself fall head-first onto the ground. My clothes were burning. I had my senses. We had been told in training that you’ve got to get the fire out. So I started to roll. Lo and behold, all of a sudden, plunk! I fell down into a hole. It was four or five feet deep, and there was a lot of loose dirt. I plunked down in there, and covered myself with this dirt. Otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting here.

Jack Sheppard: We pulled up to the road, all in a line, and fired at the hedgerow with the cannon and the machine gun, just raked it, and high explosive, all to hell. The platoon leader of the infantry says “Let’s go!” So we all go, tanks and infantry, the infantry behind the tanks.

We get across that road, and my tank hits a mud hole and tips over. The right track had no traction whatsoever, so we were just sitting there.

I had my head out of the turret, and my carbine in my hand.

About that time, the other tanks disappeared over the hedgerow. Then a round came in from the right and hit the gunner’s periscope. It blew up, and blasted straight on through to the other side of the tank. All of the recoil cylinders in the gun had holes punched in them, so the gun couldn’t be fired. The radio was full of holes, and it didn’t work. So we had no reason for staying in the tank, and Gerrard had his right eye hanging on his cheek, he was in bad shape. He was not unconscious, but he was in extreme pain.

My hands were outside the cupola, and it busted the stock of my carbine and injured me a couple of places on the hand. It blew my helmet off, and knocked my captain’s bars off it.

We all got out and got behind the tank, and they were looking after Gerrard. I was leaking blood all over my face, and we were trying to figure out what to do.

I said, “You all stay here and take care of his wounds, and I’ll go back across the road to see if I can get a stretcher and send it back.” I did that. But while I was jogging back, my jaw was flopping up and down, and I had a piece of shrapnel, how big is your thumb? It went through and knocked a tooth out, and it stayed right there.

Louis Gerrard: We couldn’t do anything, we couldn’t go anywhere, so Sheppard said, “We’d better bail out of the tank.”

I took my tank helmet off and put my steel helmet on, and was getting ready to come up, when “Balloom!” We got hit right on my side of the turret, and I practically flew out of the tank.

When I was laying on the ground, the rest of the crew came around me, and there was a medic. He was putting sulfa drugs on my arms, and somebody said, “Here come the Germans!”

Earl Holman started getting his gun, and somebody said, “Whatever you do, don’t fire,” because they would have mutilated us. There were 15 or 20 Germans.

I told the guys, “Get out of here, go on,” so they all went. Bailey stayed. He was the last one there, and I kept telling him, “Go, go,” and he got killed getting away. I laid there half-dead.

The Germans took the medic with them. And they took my wristwatch. My brother Jack had given me a ring with the word “Oran,” in Africa. He gave it to me when I was in England, and I wore it all the time. They tried like hell to get that off my finger. They couldn’t get it off, so they gave up on that, but they took my watch.

I didn’t say anything. The medic had told me to play dead, so I was just dead when they came. All I could hear was German. I didn’t know what they were talking about, although I could understand the word “eie.” They must have been commenting about my eye.

I was thinking I was going to get killed by these Germans coming, and I was thinking about my mother, what would she say? She took it hard when my oldest brother was killed [Gerrard learned on June 6 that one of his brothers had been killed in North Africa], and I thought, now she’ll get word another one’s killed.

The Germans grabbed me by the heels and put me up on a hill. I think they must have done that so somebody could find me. I don’t know what the reason was, but they did that. Then they heard something and they were all in a big rush; they took off real fast. I was expecting a bayonet in the back or the chest, or a shot in the head. I didn’t know what the Germans were going to do.

Charles Nuccio (Sergeant, C Company): We had a fellow named Bailey, they never did find him. Bailey was a maintenance man. A funny thing about him, every time he worked on an engine, he always had screws and bolts left over, but the tank worked. His downfall was that he had more German equipment on him than he had American equipment, and our thinking was that he got captured, and when they found all that stuff on him, they just – we found his brains in his helmet. We never did find his body. They probably cold-bloodedly killed him, finding him with all the German stuff he had on him.

Kenneth Titman (tank commander): We were coming into this open field. Three tanks were together. When we got in there, the German 88s got us. They hit my tank and it exploded, and I hollered “Abandon tank!” The tank was on fire. I looked around and I saw all these tanks running, one tank ran in front of me and hit the tank on the left and both exploded. That’s what I saw.

I jumped out of the turret and hit the back deck. Blood was coming out of the top of my combat boot, and I knew I was hit.

When I got down off the tank and looked up, I saw the loader coming out of the turret, and he was on fire when he hit the ground.

I knew [Kenneth] Cohron, my gunner, didn’t come out, because the 88 hit him directly and I had some of his flesh on my helmet.

[Clarence] Morrison, the driver, put the tank in reverse. The assistant driver dropped the escape hatch, and the tank had power enough to back off, and the two of them got out from under the tank. I don’t know where they went after that.

When I got out, I went for a slit trench, and when I got in it, here comes a bunch of Germans, and they stuck a gun at me.

I said, “Alles kaput,” and they saw my leg was all shot up. They put me on a litter and took me back to the rear.

Michael Vona (assistant driver, Titman’s tank): Before we went, Abe [Taylor] said to me, “Mickey, saddle up. This is it.” And I said in Italian, “Oom-gatz.” Saddle up. I hung out with certain guys. You didn’t know all of the platoon, because you didn’t hang out with them. Just like the first 25 miles in basic training, I carried the company flag. I got a pass for that. I said to [Frank] Perry, “Come on, Frank, let’s go.” Boom! We went to Phenix City; we were shooting pool. Oh, Jeez, they had kids over there, 12-year-old prostitutes. They were paying all the churches off to keep their mouth shut.

“Hand to hand combat [looking at a diagram of the battle].” That’s me. I was hand to hand. I had a pistol at my head. It went “click.” And we fought. The guy scratched me all up. See, these things you hate to say but you’ve got to say it because you want to know. He really gave me a good wallop. Besides, I was hit with a grenade.

Now we’re fighting. You ought to see the words I was using. He scratched me all up. If you want to know the language I used, I can’t say on account of my wife is here, you know what I mean? And there was a medic on this side, on the left of me. Now on that left side there were quite a few guys in holes. But I don’t know if Dzienis was there.

My buddy Taylor, I saw him fly out of the tank. He was up in front near the wall. And then when I got hit with the grenade, that’s when this guy started beating me up but then he put the pistol to my head. I grabbed ahold of him, and the pistol clicked. So I’m fighting and I’m swearing, he was scratching me, and I’ve got him by the neck. I’ve got one hand trying to hold where the pistol was, and I’ve got him by the neck – as small as I was, I was 129 pounds, but he wasn’t that much bigger. He had a helmet on, but I think it came off because we were fighting. I don’t remember if he had blond hair, black hair, blue eyes, or purple hair. I figured I wasn’t gonna last anyway. That’s the way you think.

Him and I, we really had it out, he was scratching me, and I was whacking him. I’m hollering, “Shoot the son....” you know, SOB and all that crap, “F” and all those words.

I used to play the harmonica. I mean, you can laugh it off at times, but it’s hard, it’s there all the time. I don’t care what anybody says. I don’t know who shot the German. There was a medic there, it could have been him. But I saw a bunch of guys – later on, as darkness came – there were Germans walking up and down. Now, the guy that I was fighting with, he’s on top of me. I jumped in a hole and I pulled him in the hole on top of me. Morrison was in a corner of the hole. He was hurt in the eye. I talked to him and he was all right, and I was smoking, with the German over me. He was still alive. He was still groaning. I thought later I should have given him his last rites.

I said, “I’ve got to see what this guy’s got.” I put my hands in his pocket. I see English money. I said this bastard took it from the English. Then I waited until it got dark. I said, “Morrison, we’ve got to get out of here.” Because I saw these guys walking back and forth ... but we had a cover over the foxhole.

I got his luger, and I’m looking for ammunition. He hasn’t got any. All he had was a bayonet. I gave that to Morrison. I said, “Morrison, we’ve got to get out of here. We’ve got to take a shot. Either we get it or we don’t.” I was shitting my pants, too, you know what I mean, like everybody else was. Then I heard somebody starting to cry. You can’t blame that, I mean.

It was Dzienis. Dzienis was directly across from me. The poor kid. I was a kid myself, I was 24, but Dzienis wasn’t a type like me. I was a runaround. Not a runaround, I was a good boy, for my age. But I had more freedom I guess. He was like a mama’s boy. But he was a nice kid, believe me. So I crawled up to him. I said, “Dzienis, I can’t take you back. You stay here, they’ll probably pick you up, or I’ll try to get somebody.” As we came back, the tank that was against the wall, that was Flowers’, it was still burning. I said to Morrison, “Let’s start walking toward” – I mean not walking, we’re lying down, and you’re crawling, and he’s got that bayonet – so we start hearing noises. I said, “Uh-oh, let’s not go near there.” There were a lot of people talking. There was light from the [burning] tank. Now we get to the wall. I said, “Morrison, we’ve got to get over this wall.” We don’t know what’s over the wall. You lose direction. I thought it was the Germans, but it wasn’t. Morrison ran into an American guy. But when he went forward, I went to the left, and I passed out, because I’d lost too much blood. That German, what a wallop he gave me in the head. And not only that, I was scratched. It took them I don’t know how many months to clean that all up. I’ve still got a hunk of steel in me from the grenade, in my chest. I’m saving that for the next war.

Jim Rothschadl: I lay there for quite a while. My hands were all burned, and my face. I stuck my hands into the dirt.

Meanwhile, the goddamn devils were firing at us. I could see tracers going over the top of the hole.

After a while the firing stopped, to almost nothing. By that time it was almost dusk. Flowers had crawled from where he was laying by the tank to a hedgerow that was about 25 feet away. There was a hole in the hedgerow that was made by a bomb or something. Flowers crawled through there and lay down on the other side.

Then he began calling my name. I could hear him plaintively. He usually called me “Corporal Rothschadl,” but several of the times he said, “Jim, Jim, please come over here. Please come over here! Corporal Rothschadl.” He said it many times, at least a dozen times, by the time I crawled through there.

In addition to my burns, the tendon on my right foot was cut. I don’t know if it was a gunshot or a shrapnel wound, but it cut the tendon. I could take my foot and pull it up until my toe touched the leg.

And it didn’t hurt. I crawled over there. I was dazed, but I had my faculties. I kept following his voice. I came through this hole in the hedgerow and there he was, laying flat on his back.

Jim Flowers: After we got on the ground, there were a few infantry soldiers and a few of the tankers. We can’t stay where we are, with these burning tanks and the Germans over on the other side of that hedgerow shooting at us. The only thing we can do is get over on that side of the hedgerow with them. So I gathered up whatever we had, and we attacked that hedgerow, and got over on the other side. It was messy, but it didn’t last long.

We ran the Germans off, and then we moved over a distance and got into a field on the right side of where my tanks were burning, and that’s as far as we’re going.

By now, the blood is squirting out of my foot, and my face and hands are burned, all the skin is falling off my hands. So I had Gary, my driver, help me get my belt off. I had coveralls on over an o.d. [olive drab] uniform. I got my belt off and put it around my right leg above my knee, and picked up a stick, and we twisted the stick to make an improvised tourniquet.

After we got that done, I had him reach in my coverall breast pocket and get out my package of morphine syrettes.

There also was an infantry soldier with us who had been hit real hard in both legs.

Jim Rothschadl: On that side of the hedgerow was a pie-shaped field, about four acres in size. We were laying there, it was still daylight, and there were some infantry boys with us. And then god damn, they started firing at some Germans that were coming across a hedgerow on the other side of this field. There was a hell of a firefight going on.

Pretty soon things quieted down, though, and by now it was getting dark. Flowers told everybody who could walk to try to go find help.

Jim Flowers: I had Gary use a syrette on each one of us – Rothschadl, the infantry soldier and me. He took a pocket knife and cut a hole through our clothing. Then I told him, everybody that you can find that’s ambulatory, get them the hell out of here.

That left Rothschadl and this infantry soldier and me out there on the ground. Rothschadl had been burned in the face. He could hardly see; his eyes were swollen shut.

I had no idea what the situation was back there with Bealke and his boys, but I said to the others, go back and as soon as you can, get an aid man and a couple of litter teams out here.

So Gary got the guys that were still around and started back. On the way back, that’s where Gerald Kiballa, who was my assistant driver, got killed.

By now it’s getting late in the day. Sometime that night, I heard something moving down the other side of the hedgerow, which was over where my tanks were burning. They had exploded in the meantime.

I listened, and it wasn’t coming from the right direction. It was coming from behind me, back where the Germans were. So I crawled up on the hedgerow and with the few rounds of ammunition I had left in that magazine, I sprayed in the direction that I could hear these boys coming from. I don’t know whether I hit any of them or whether they knew where the firing was coming from. But they didn’t bother me.

I crawled back down the hedgerow where I’d been laying and waited and waited, and sometime during the dark hours, I heard somebody coming up on the same side of the hedgerow that I was on.

I told this infantry kid and Rothschadl, “Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. Don’t even breathe deeply.” But these guys were coming right to us. And in a little bit, the one that was in front stopped and looked, and he said something in German to the fellow behind him. They were in file, and they just walked around us. I don’t know whether they thought we were dead or what. They could see that if we weren’t dead, we weren’t long for this world. But the last man, or one of the last men, in that little column stopped and came over to us, and he had a red cross on his arm.

That boy came over, and he looked at us, and he checked my tourniquet. The bleeding had long since stopped. He checked it to be sure that I had released the tension on it. And he opened his first aid kit, which was a canvas bag, and he got out a gauze roller bandage. My combat jacket had knit cuffs. He pushed those cuffs back up. I had a wristwatch on my left arm and an identification bracelet on my right. He just slid them up as much as he could to expose these burned hands, and he went to work bandaging each finger individually, and then my whole hand up to a point above where the burns were. He looked at my burned face. Of course there was nothing he could do about that.

I asked the man for water, and he didn’t give me any. It’s possible he didn’t understand, but I think he did, so he probably just didn’t have any water.

Then he went over and bandaged Rothschadl, and he looked at the infantry soldier.

That’s the night of the 10th. I don’t know how many German soldiers moved through. I thought for a while it was a whole German army, but it was probably 12 or 15 men.

Jim Rothschadl: Later that night these Germans walked up to us. One of them stopped and knelt down alongside of me, and I could see a red cross on his arm. The swelling in my face had closed my eyes, but I could see if I pulled the skin down below my right eye. And I was so goddamn thirsty. I said “Wasser.” I could speak a little German; my dad could speak German. I looked up and he was kneeling down, and he pulled out a canteen. I saw this canteen and I thought, he’s going to give me some water! And he took the cap off and tipped the canteen upside down. He didn’t have any water. But he bandaged my hands. He put some gauze on them. Then he did something with Jim, and there was an infantry boy that was laying there, too, who was still alive.

The infantry boy was moaning. He was trying to talk. He was in really bad shape. He was wounded in both legs, and he had a bad wound in the stomach.

Jim had five morphine syrettes. He gave me a shot early on, while I was still in a state of shock. That lasted about three hours. And I guess he gave himself some, and he gave the infantry boy some. I got one shot, I might have had two, I don’t know.

The next morning, we were still laying there. We didn’t sleep much. The Germans set up their line right there, and they were walking back and forth past us all the time.

I can’t figure out why they didn’t kill us. They must have thought we looked so damn horrible that we weren’t gonna hurt anybody.

That day, our people – we must have been quite a ways out there from our lines because they put artillery in, and they don’t put artillery in at close range. The Germans were lined up where our tanks were burned out, and our people knew they were lined up there. So they laid a hell of an artillery barrage, not knowing that we were there. Even if they had known they would have done it.

It practically plowed up that field. And one shell landed between Jim and the infantry boy. I heard Jim scream. And I looked over there and Jesus Christ, his other leg was gone.

Somehow he managed to get a tourniquet on it. It’s Sunday night now. We were out there the night of the 10th, and this is the night of the 11th.

During that night, the Germans did what they did many other times: They picked up their stuff and moved back a few hedgerows.

Jim Flowers: Sometime on the 11th, our artillery shelled that position, and it ended the war for some of the German kids because I could hear them screaming. And one of the shells landed just right to hit the infantry boy and me. Shell fragments hit the infantry soldier and me, and did an almost complete traumatic amputation of my left leg this time, about seven inches below my knee.

I had to get this belt off of my right leg and over to my left one, because I haven’t got all that much blood left, especially since I’m pretty well dehydrated.

I took the belt off of my right leg and put it on the left, and then pulled it up as tightly as I could, twisted the stick, and slowed the blood down. Then I checked Rothschadl. He didn’t get any shell fragments.

The infantry boy had been hit. He’d been hit hard.

I crawled, and pulled myself on my elbows over to him, and he’s a bloody mess. I can’t just lay there calmly and let this boy join his ancestors. So with whatever mobility I had left in my bandaged hands, I managed to tear some of his clothing off of him and get it ripped up into strips to put some compresses over the places where he’s bleeding badly.

We made it through the rest of the day. That night the Germans evacuated that position, and in the meantime our artillery had stopped trying to kill me. There’s a boy named Frank Norris who was a lieutenant colonel commanding a field artillery battalion in the 90th Infantry Division, and who became a major general after the war. I’ve accused Frank of trying to kill me. He said hell, he didn’t even know me. We laugh about it, and he admits that it could have been his battalion that was firing on that position.

Sometime on the morning of the 12th, this infantry soldier told me he wasn’t going to make it, and he asked me to administer the last rites to him. I don’t know whether I told him but I’m not a Catholic boy, I’m a Baptist. I don’t understand anything about the last rites of the Catholic church, but I can pray, that was one thing I can do. So I crawled over and did the best I could, but at the same time I admonished this boy for even thinking about dying, and asked him to just hang on a while longer, they’ll be here eventually to get us.

He didn’t make it.

Jim Rothschadl: When morning came, the 12th, it was a quiet, early dawn. Everything was quiet. You couldn’t hear a shot. In fact, I heard birds singing. I was laying there, and I was really feeling bad. I was feeling so bad that I thought about dying. I wanted to.

Then Jim said, “Give me a cigarette.”

I had cigarettes, but my hands were so huge from the swelling that I couldn’t get into my pocket. The cigarettes were in there, and I wanted one, too.

The next thing he said, he swore a little bit, he said, “Jesus Christ, Jim, you’d better go get some help.”

I said, “Why?”

He said, “I’m getting gangrene in my legs. Can you see a little bit?”

It was hard to talk because I’d swelled up so much. But I knew what he said. I was desperate myself. And everything was quiet. So I crawled out through the hole in the hedgerow. But I turned the wrong way. I was confused, in terms of directions. The tanks were still smoldering. I put my left shoulder to the hedgerow and was crawling along, blind, then I’d stop once in a while and I’d look. And I was trying to call for medics. I don’t know if I got any noise out or not. And I don’t know how far I crawled, but all of a sudden I heard this awful kind of a laugh. There I was, sitting in front of a German machine gun nest. There were three guys behind it. It was a water-cooled machine gun, because it had the big casing on the barrel. And they were looking at me. They were saying something and they laughed. And I thought, “Okay, shoot me. Go ahead.” I didn’t give a damn.

They must have thought I looked awful. My clothes were burned, I suppose, and I was all puffed up.

After a few seconds I turned around. I put my right shoulder to the hedgerow and I crawled back. I came back to the hole and continued on past it, and I’d stop every once in a while and try to call for medics. There was nothing wrong with my hearing, and I heard a little noise. So I opened my eye up, and there was a GI. He must have been down on his hands and knees because I saw the helmet down toward the ground, and a head. Even though I couldn’t see that well I immediately recognized that it was a GI helmet. So I must have hollered or something, and pretty soon three or four of them came from around a corner in the hedgerow.

They picked me up and carried me some distance. It wasn’t too far. They were going through water. I could hear water. I was so goddamn thirsty. They had me down, and I was begging for water. And I heard one of the guys say, “Just give him a little bit now.” I could have drank a barrel. “Don’t give him much now, just a little bit.” And I was angry about that, because I was so thirsty.

I got that water down. Then I was telling these guys – by that time there were eight or nine of them – that my lieutenant is laying back there. I begged for them to go back and get him.

So they left. They came back in a few minutes and said, “He’s dead.”

I tried to get up, and I said, “No, no.” I was begging and begging, and they went back again. They brought Jim and laid him down alongside of me, and they sent for some people with stretchers.

They carried us on stretchers until they came to a jeep, and they laid us both on the hood of the jeep, crossways. The jeep took us to an aid station, and then they put us on the hood of a different jeep, which took us down to the beach.

They took us down to the beach, and this jeep went right into the water, and took us to an LST. And it was full of wounded men. They left space for walking, but the LST was full.

Jim Flowers: Sometime that morning, I heard some noise coming in my direction.

The first clear recollection I have is hearing this voice say, “Well, here’s some more of ‘em.” Then he said, “Wait, here’s another one.” This is coming my way. When they got up close to me, one of these boys says, “Here’s one I think is still alive.” After I assured him that I was still with it, he came over with a lieutenant. It turned out that this is G Company of the 357th Infantry, and the lieutenant was a boy from the western part of Texas, his name is Claude Lovett.

Claude looked at me, and I asked him for a drink of water, so he gave me some out of his canteen. He got on his radio and called back and told them to get some litters up there.

Jim Rothschadl: When we got to the hospital in Southampton, Jim and I were still together. I was on a gurney and he was laying over to my right.

Some doctors and nurses came over. They were looking at me, and one of the nurses hollered, “Jesus! Come and look at this guy. They must be using gas over there!” Then the chaplain came in, and he gave me the last rites. I didn’t want him to. I said “Damn!” I swore at him, and told him to get the hell away from me. I made it this far I’m gonna make it. I don’t need no last rites. I was really angry. But he went through the procedure.

Jim was still nearby, and I heard him talking. The last words he said before we were separated, he said, “Goddamn it. Take good care of that corporal. He’s the best goddamn gunner in the United States Army.”

Jack Sheppard: After the infantry took the area, I went up with the first sergeant, and we looked in the tanks, and there’s nothing but ashes down on the bottom.

Right next to one tank was a foxhole, and in it was Abraham Taylor. He had a rifle leaning over the edge, and he was dead. He had been shot through the head. But he was the only one I knew for sure was dead. All the rest you wondered about. Did they get out and were taken prisoner, or what?

After that, we were down to seven [out of an original 15] tanks in the company, and not many men. When the first replacements came on, we weren’t wearing any insignias, because the snipers would use them as targets, and the only way you could identify an officer was I had a white stripe, about an inch and a half long and about four inches wide, down the back of the helmet. If it was up and down it was an officer, if it was sideways it was a sergeant, so you knew who the command was.

These recruits walked up to us and we’re all just standing there, and one of them looks at me and says, “Hey, Mac, what in the hell happened to you?” And the first sergeant says, “Shut your mouth. That’s a company commander!” That must have made their day. If a company commander can get looking like that, what’s going to happen to them? I still had my combat jacket, and it had blood stains on it. And my face was bandaged, my hand was bandaged, and I still had two of the most glorious black eyes from the concussion.

Kenneth Titman: The Germans took me to an interrogating officer. And he said, “You know, your battle is over. You’re going back to the rear.”

And I said, “Oh?”

He said, “Yes. The war is over for you. What outfit are you from?”

I wouldn’t tell him.

Then he said, “How many men are back there [in the tanks]?”

I said, “I don’t know.”

I was sitting there, and while this guy was asking me all those questions, they opened up one of those burp guns. And I said, “What was that?”

He said, “That’s somebody who wouldn’t talk.”

Well, I figured that’s just a gimmick. So I said, “I’m not telling you nothing.” The Germans to me, a soldier’s just like a doctor or a lawyer, that’s their profession. That’s the way they think. And they appreciate somebody who doesn’t tell them information.

He said, “We’re going to take you back to Rennes, to the hospital, and when we get there you’ll have good care.” Then they put me in a meat wagon and took me down the road. We had artillery firing all around us, our own artillery, and they took me to this hospital. They put me in a bed there, and my leg was so bad, it was full of shrapnel and infection was setting in. The French nurses came around with these sticks; when the wound’s all opened up, they put the sticks on there to try to burn the pus and everything off. That hurt a little bit, and she said, “Just take it easy, because we might get liberated.”

They put a big red cross on top of the hospital. We didn’t have anything to eat. All we had was peaberry coffee and moldy bread. When I got liberated I weighed 110 pounds. And Dr. Powell, my doctor, told me when I got liberated and they took me down to the field hospital, “If you’d have been there ten more hours you’d have lost your right leg.”

They put me on a plane and took me over to Swindon, England – that got to me, because Swindon is where we were before we made the invasion. Dr. Powell looked at my leg and said, “You’ve got a piece of shrapnel up next to your bone and one back behind it. We’re gonna cut that leg open, and we’ll give you a spinal shot, to deaden it. You’re not gonna feel a thing.” And he opened my leg up and took out two big pieces of shrapnel, each of them about as big as my thumb.

Louis Gerrard: I lay there all night, and then this artillery opened up, and the dirt and cinders and everything, stones were coming off the road, they were hitting me on the head. I said, “I’ve got to get the heck out of here.” So I crawled back up the hill, and I heard this one guy say, “Get over here!” There were some GIs in a big slit trench. I got into that, and then they called for a stretcher.

They put me on the stretcher, and put the stretcher on a jeep. They had another soldier on the other side, two of us going down a big narrow road. I could hear the small arms fire. I thought I was going to get killed before I got back to the beach.

Jim Gifford (a lieutenant in C Company): When I got into the 712th, they told me to go over to where Jim Flowers’ tanks were. That was my first contact with the 712th. I had the shitty job of going back to those tanks and getting the dog tags of those that had died. We made up a little box. If you found anybody’s remains, you always put their dog tags in that box. It went with the body.

These guys had all been incinerated, because the tanks were like a furnace. It was like getting into a furnace after something’s been destroyed. I’d go where the tank driver was supposed to be sitting and I’d find a dog tag. I wouldn’t even find the body. This is the way it was. It was a very horrible experience, especially when you’re gonna get in a tank yourself the next day.

There was one tank in particular that, one guy, a gunner, had survived a little bit, but it’s a gruesome story, I probably don’t even want to tell it to you. He was still sitting in the gunner’s seat. There was nothing left of him but maybe his hips. And when I was looking for the dog tags I pushed this thing, I thought it was a piece of the machinery, and a piece of it came off like a turkey, like the skin on a turkey came off, this big black crust, and then I realized it was what was left of him.

Those guys never knew what hit them. Those tanks exploded. You’ve got all that hundred octane gasoline, nobody had a chance.

Michael Vona: I go by Taylor’s neighborhood all the time. I go down to Bristol (Rhode Island). I don’t know if you’ve heard of Bristol, that’s where they have that big parade on the Fourth of July, a lot of New York outfits come up here.

Taylor was tall and skinny. He was a good egg. He was good to everybody. Him and I, we used to kid each other. We could say anything, even though he was Jewish. He would call me a guinea, a wop, come on. And I could call him other things.

When his father first came here, he was a tailor, that’s how he got his name, because when they arrived in America they couldn’t talk English.

Abe said, “Mike, don’t tell them I did this” – he wanted to give me his dog tags. I said, “Throw the goddamn things away, will you?” He was scared. I said, What the hell are you gonna give them to me for?” This was a few days before [Hill 122], because it was going around that they used to kill – in other words, if you were Jewish, Boom, that was it. That was what they were saying. I didn’t see any of that. But you believe it, you know what I mean?

I don’t know if he did throw the dog tags away. But he was a good sergeant. He took orders, and he gave orders, nice orders, in other words he wasn’t a bastard. He was a regular guy. He treated you as a human being.

Cliff Flora (a mechanic in C Company): Eugene Tannler was in C Company maintenance, and Jake Driskill was the motor sergeant. Tannler was a good friend of mine, and he told me one day in England, “I want to get out of maintenance and into a tank. I was trained to be in a tank.”

I said, “Stay with us. You’re better off here.” But he went and told them about it, and they made a loader out of him. He was a smart boy, I think he went to the University of Pennsylvania.

Shortly after he was killed, we were sitting in a field in Normandy, and they said, “Mail call.” The first sergeant came out with a big box, and he had a kind of sad look on his face. He said, “I don’t know what to do with this. This is for Tannler from his mother.”

It was a box of cookies.

He said, “You guys might as well have it.”

It was kind of sad. Here we are eating his cookies and thinking his poor mother doesn’t even know he’s dead, and we do.

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Seriously, the storm that delayed D-Day played a supporting role in at least two of the stories I recorded in my interviews with D-Day veterans, Ed Boccafogli and Chuck Hurlbut.

Ed Boccafogli was in the 508th Parachute Infantry Regiment of the 82nd Airborne Division. He was already in the air when the invasion was postponed.

“The invasion was supposed to be June 5th,” he said when I interviewed him prior to the 50th anniversary of D-Day in 1994. “June 5th was the actual scheduled invasion. And we left on the night of the 4th. We circled around for about a half-hour. We were the lead unit. Circled around. Circled around. Picked up other units from various aerodromes. And then word came, because of the storm, the crew chief in the plane said it’s bring canceled. Christ, you can imagine, oh, like a man going into a ring, he’s gonna fight now for his life or death, all of a sudden, you could hardly breathe. It was just a complete letdown. It was unbelievable. And we came down, next thing we landed.”

“Was it a disappointment, or a relief?” I asked.

“No, it wasn’t a disappointment,” he said, “because you’re keyed up to a point where you, it’s hard to explain, all of a sudden it’s like you lost everything. Everybody, they were like stunned. Because you’re keyed up. You’re starting, your mind was in there, thinking of every little thing, the sand tables, where the church was, where this is, that there, where we’re supposed to assemble, where the river is, where the La Fiere Bridge is, all these are in your mind, and you’re trying to orient yourself to when you hit the ground you want to know exactly where you’re gonna go, where your buddies are, and hope to hell you don’t get all killed.

“So all this is there, and you’re green troops. By green I mean, now we hadn’t had combat before. Some of the 504 of the 82nd were in Sicily, so they’d had, some of them, especially the noncoms, had experience; they got a lot of replacements. They were green also. But we were green troops. We were a green unit, actually.

“So then we landed. And we went back to the tents. Some guys were inside the hangars and some guys in the tents.

“Well, that night a storm. I mean a storm. Lightning and everything. And they had the regular squad tents, with a pole, square ones. And the tent next to mine got hit, lightning hit the thing, collapsed the tent. In the morning the guys were all, the cots in there with the water in between, ‘Christ, we can’t get out of here!’ They slept with it on them, but by morning they’re trying to get out, but with the water between the cots, they couldn’t move the canvas. Everybody had to start moving canvas to get them out.”

“None of them were injured by the lightning?” I asked.

“No. Nobody got injured. And one thing that I remember — I’ve got it in that thing for the Eisenhower Center, I’ve got it upstairs, the transcript, it’s what I’m telling you, in more detail because I didn’t put a lot of these things in, you know, getting kicked in the butt to find out if, I didn’t put all these things, these are little, I couldn’t think of them, I just went, rambled as I went along on the tape.”

“What was that about getting kicked in the butt?” I asked.

“I told you, in other words, during training, to see if you actually had passed out or not. These were little things, but they all add up. So many little things that add up to the whole, but you can’t think of them all at once while you’re making a tape. When we get together with a whole group of us, then we kid about different things, then all these things come out. Anyway, so what happened, where was I?”

“It was storming. The flight had been canceled.”

“Oh, yeah. Canceled. Then in the morning we got up, and we had breakfast, and I’ll never forget, I was standing in the tent and there was this kid, Johnny Daum — John Daum, we called him Johnny — skinny kid, didn’t look no more than 16 years old, blond, tow-headed. And he’s standing there like a statue, looking into space.

“I looked at him. I went over. I says, ‘Hey, Johnny,’ this was a kid, being I was older I was more rugged, I used to take him like under my wing. I said, ‘What’s the matter, Johnny? ‘Ey, Johnny.’”

“And he’s there like in a stupor. ‘Hey,’ I says, ‘what the hell’s the matter with you?’

“He says, ‘I’m gonna die tomorrow.’ Just like that. ‘Tomorrow I’ll be dead.’

“‘Ahhh, come on,’ I said. ‘Chrissake. Some of us will, some of us won’t, but you ain’t gonna be one.’

“Anyway, he was one of the first guys killed. I didn’t see him get killed, but one of the fellows said he ran up the incline, and he seen him drop. Boom, he got hit with a bullet.

“So these things are, the rest of your life.’”

Chuck Hurlbut was a private in the 299th Combat Engineer Battalion, which would be split up and tasked with blowing up obstacles on both Omaha and Utah beach.

“We go down to Weymouth, which is our port of embarkation,” Chuck said when I interviewed him in Ithaca, New York, in 1998. “And this place is a madhouse. And on the way down, there were acres and acres of every piece of military equipment you could describe. Everything was stockpiled all over, mile after mile after mile. And we had to think, do you realize that 98 percent of this came from the United States, came across the Atlantic Ocean? Jesus, it was unbelievable to think that … and we get into Weymouth and it was a madhouse. The port was full of boats going this way and that way and that way, big boats, little boats, every kind of boats. And the whole village was jam-packed. You’ve heard of traffic jams; this was one. There were guys trying to march to their boats, there were tanks, there were trucks all lined up waiting to get on a certain boat. The boat had to come in, be assigned, and you had to be directed. MPs all over the place. It was total confusion. But it was organized confusion. Somehow they sorted it all out and they got to the right place. And we ended up on an old English channel steamer that had been converted, the Princess Maud. What a name!”

“We laughed and laughed and laughed at the name, the Princess Maud, this was gonna be our boat,” Chuck said. “It was a small boat; it wasn’t big. By the time we got on there, with all of the equipment, our gear, you couldn’t move. There was no place to move. It was pretty cramped. There was no room for calisthenics. There was no room to do anything. You just found a space and sat down and read a book. You hated to go to your sleeping quarters because they were so cramped and dingy, and the darn boat kept rocking. It’s in the harbor now, and it’s rocking, rocking, rocking. And half the guys who got seasick coming over, it all came back. It got worse. Nausea, seasick, oh, they were sick.”

“Wasn’t there a big storm, and they delayed the invasion?” I asked.

“Yes. We were told, we had a lot of briefings at our previous camp. That’s when we learned that D-Day would be June 5th. So we’re all geared up for it. We’ve got our attitude all set, your feelings, okay, now I know and I can adjust to that. So we get to Weymouth and we’re on our boat and we’re ready to go. And all of a sudden the announcement: It’s been delayed 24 hours. That means we’ve got to spend another day on this rocking, crazy boat. Oh, that was awful. And the guys get sicker and sicker and sicker. But one great thing, one of our guys, this is an English crew, the whole crew was English, they had a galley and the whole business. I don’t know how he did it but he connived the bakery people to give him a loaf of bread. I guess we were there two nights. Every night he’d come into our quarters with a big loaf of bread, two or three loaves of bread. No butter. But the hot, baked bread. It’s just like cake. That was the high point of those particular days. At midnight we’d get a big chew of bread. Nobody ever questioned him how he did it. And nobody ever found out because he was killed on D-Day. But I remember that.

“And back at D-2 [their previous camp], we were shown models of the beach area, and photographs only hours old; the planes would take photographs, develop and rush them right to the invasion fleet, so we saw photographs of the whole beach that were only hours old. And it looked pretty bad. What we had to do. Our objective — we were assault teams — our battalion had eight assault teams, and we were to cut pathways through the obstacles. Do you remember the obstacles, the tetrahydrines, the hedgehogs, the Belgian gates, the poles, were all along the beach.

“Our mission was to clear paths through those, get them out of the way so the rest of the troops could get in. That was our objective, that was our mission, and we felt pretty confident we could do it, because that’s what we had trained for. And then they delayed it one day. So we had to go through the agonizing ordeal of staying on this boat.

“We had already left Weymouth. The next day is June 6th. So we get way out there, and all of a sudden hundreds and thousands of ships are all around us. We are at what they call Piccadilly Circus, remember the big congregation point? We got into that, and I can’t describe the numbers, all sizes, shapes, everything you want were all there milling about. And finally they were directed to go their various ways. We set off.

“We arrived at a rendezvous point off of Omaha Beach, probably 10 or 12 miles off of Omaha Beach, probably around 12 o’clock that night, and we stopped. We knew we’d reached our rendezvous point.

“All the way over it was very choppy, very rough, and the guys who were sick were getting sicker; other guys were now getting sick. The officers said, “Get some sleep. Get some sleep.” You couldn’t sleep. You’d go to your bunk and all you could think about was what was going to happen tomorrow. But they gave us a hell of a good breakfast. This is the British crew. Whatever you wanted they would do. Eggs sunnyside up, down, omelets, whatever you wanted, they did it. Coffee. Tons of coffee. I can remember a bunch of us went into a little room off to the side; we’re sitting there talking, about everything, and two or three officers walked by, and they looked in. ‘Can we join you?’ These were officers. We’re all Pfc., privates, corporals. And the officers joined us, and you would never know they were officers. They joined in, and we just talked. We talked about movies. Automobiles. Sweethearts. Grandkids. Kids at home. Anything but war. You know? We spent a good hour just bullshitting there, back and forth. There was never a feeling that that guy’s an officer. And I left there with the feeling that, Jesus, those guys, they’ve got to lead us tomorrow. And they needed this little session just as much as we did. It helped them. It relieved a lot of tension on their part.

“Then, of course, we were supposed to go to sleep, but you couldn’t. We went up on deck and tried to look around but it was so dark and choppy, and you could hear all kinds of, thousands of boats all around us, hundreds of boats. We could see the big battleships off on the horizon. And if you listened, I heard a guitar, somebody playing a guitar out there someplace, it came across the water so clear. I guess we tried to go to our bunks and slept a little bit. You couldn’t sleep. And we lay there and we thought of home. And we heard the airplanes going over, the guys, 82nd, 101st, going over to drop those guys. Go get them. We wished them well.”

“Probably, oh, two or three in the morning, they got us up and around,” Chuck continued. “And we went to breakfast. Those of us who felt like it. An awful lot of guys didn’t show up for breakfast, and this is where they made the meals, whatever you wanted, the whole business. And I ate, I can remember, two orders of a custard pudding. I ate very well. And a lot of guys didn’t show up. I always thought, well, maybe they think this is the Last Supper, and they didn’t want to be part of it. Oh, well.

“Then it’s time to get ready. So, first thing you do is hit the head. It’s called a head on a ship, the bathroom. And guys start shaving, start combing our hair. One guy’s putting on cologne. You’d think you’re going on a weekend pass. These guys are getting all sharpened up. I and a lot of my buddies had a goatee, so we spent several minutes making sure that was just right. Now I can’t can’t believe it, the trouble and detail we went through, you’d think we were going on a weekend pass. Shaving. Underarms. Showering.

“Then you put your stuff on. We all got new ODs, olive drabs, we all had new ODs on. I think we had long johns. I think. I won’t swear to that. I think we had long johns, ODs, a field jacket. And then they gave us these impregnated coveralls, they were so stiff and unwieldy they could almost stand up by themselves. But they had been specially treated with some solution that would withstand gas. And you put those on. And on top of that, you had your belt, you had your gas mask, a bandolier of bullets crosswise. And your cartridge belt had a bayonet, a canteen, a first aid packet, and more bullets. Your helmet. I made sure the chinstrap was down. And your rifle.

“Oh, and your backpack, which had your mess kit, your shovel, your incidentals.

“There’s about fifty, sixty pounds of stuff. And you’re supposed to go in there and be agile. Okay. So I’m sitting there thinking about it, I’ve got a few minutes. I pull out some photographs of my family, and I’m looking at them. And I got Eisenhower’s letter that he sent out to all the kids, I read that again.

“I’m looking at this stuff and my buddy comes up behind me. He was a good buddy. We’d been through a lot together. And he opens his stuff. Ugly, gaudiest, the most outlandish necktie I ever saw in my life. Unbelievable, I can’t describe the colors.

“He was quite a character anyway. I guess his friends or somebody sent it to him, and he was going to wear it on D-Day. What the hell, they couldn’t stop him now. So we laughed about that, chuckled a bit, and we thought about all the things we went through, and what we’re gonna go through together. We planned a trip, what we’re gonna do when we hit Paris and all this stuff.

“And then we get an order to get on deck. So we throw our arms around each other. You can’t walk with this suit on and all this stuff, so we waddle up to the deck. And we get up there, and all the guys were assembled, we’re going over the side.

“And we’re kidding each other, we’re cracking jokes. ‘Make sure you tell my mother this.’ ‘If I don’t see you again.’ All that sort of stuff.

“Then we went over the railing and the cargo net, which is the big rope thing you put down, the cargo net’s there. So we start going down it, as we’re ordered, groups go down. At sea, the water’s real, real choppy. I mean it was really going. And the LCVP, our assault, which we’re getting into, was having a hell of a time staying close to the ship, because the net went from the ship down into that boat. And I’m halfway down, and the goddamn net goes up, I’m laying like horizontal, or spreadeagled, and I’m looking at all this angry water down there. I made it down. Everybody made it down okay, I don’t think anybody was hurt coming down the net. And we get into our assault craft.

“Right in the middle of the assault craft is a rubber raft full of all our explosives that we had to use. So all the guys line up all around it, each side.

“We get loaded up, and I’m pretty sure they were Coast Guard guys, the coxswain and his assistant. He takes off and he goes to another rendezvous point, and he circles and circles and circles, waiting for other craft so they can all go at once. And all the time boats are zipping in and out, little boats and stuff, near. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you could hear the bullhorn. You couldn’t understand what they were saying, what they were telling, “Boat A, you get over in line, Line A, boat back,” and all this crazy stuff.

“But pretty soon they had a bunch of boats all lined up. And timing was crucial, so they had to wait for the right timing. I guess we had about a two-hour, we’re about 12 miles out, so these are not fast boats, and I guess it took about two hours from this point to reach the beach. So it’s probably, and we had to hit at 6:33. So I’m saying it’s about 4 o’clock in the morning, roughly.

“And all of a sudden, vroom, vroom, vroom, we take off, a big line of assault craft.

“On either side of us are similar boats to mine. We try to look and see, because we know our buddies are in these boats. You just can’t make them out. You holler at each other, but nothing. So we all take off.

“And it’s a very choppy sea. It’s very rough. These LCVPs are not huge boats. So we’re going, but the speed of the boat, whatever it was, seemed to lessen the rockiness of it. But anyhow, the waves just washed all over, within ten minutes, the water’s just below your knees, full of water. Guys have started to vomit. That’s floating all over the water. And on the way in, you realize that half of these guys, they’ve already been sick back at Weymouth, right? This is not helping their condition. And here they are about to meet the biggest challenge of their life and physically they’re just not up to par for what they’ve got to do. But somehow I felt pretty good through it, I was all right. And my buddy was up ahead of me, he turned around, he flashed the necktie again, and I gave him a thumbs-up.”

“What was his name?” I ask.

“His name was Tom Legacy, from Niagara Falls.

“And on the way … Oh, and as we started, all the battleships opened up with their big guns. Noise. You never heard noise like that in your life. Unbelievable noise. They were shooting all over.

“We had heard the bombers, prior to that. They’re going in, they’re supposed to bomb the beach. And as we get closer we could see the fighter planes strafing the beach. And on the way in we passed a rocket ship, a big flat affair loaded with rockets, phshoo, phshoo, phshoo, phshoo, phshoo. Now we had seen rockets back in Florida, but nothing compared to this. And as you go in, you see the rockets, the Naval guns, the planes. How the hell could anything exist or live through what they’re getting? It’s going to be a piece of cake. There’ll be nothing alive there. No one, nothing could live through that. So that made you feel pretty good. And we’d been promised way back in England, there’ll be so many craters on this beach, and all you’ve got to do is jump into a crater, you’ll be protected. They’ll be all over the beach. So we felt pretty good when we saw the bombers, the shelling, the rockets. We also passed another LCMP, the one that carries the tanks, loaded with tanks. And these were the tanks with the canvas. They had a big canvas collar around them. They were a British idea. In other words, when they hit the water, these canvas things would allow them to float until they could reach land. And this thing started letting these off. One went off. Blooop. Straight down. Well, you’d think they’d know. Second one. Blooop. Three or four went down like that. And we’re right alongside of it. And all of a sudden the guys come bobbing up, fighting for breath and air, they’re like corks in the water. You’d think we could stop and pick them up. Nope. We had a mission. They’re yelling and screaming, that was awful. We had to go right by them, and leave all these guys just bobbing around in the water. I hope they were rescued. I don’t really know, but I thought, Hey, I guess this is war. There’s no time for compassion. We’ve got a mission, and nothing can interfere. Boy, that hurt.”

“That was the first you saw of the horrors of war?” I asked.

“Yeah, what war can do. What war is. I’ll never forget that. So we just passed them right by.”

“You actually saw the tanks go off and go straight down?”

“They just disappeared. Somebody got all confused. Some of those assault landing craft skippers got scared or something. This is close enough. You guys can make it. There’s been incidents where an officer had to hold a pistol to the guy’s head to make them go in, where the guys could live. There’s cases of guys were left in water over their head, with all this equipment. There were many, many instances of that, where the skipper didn’t do right. Got confused or some damn thing, but letting these tanks out in this deep water was crazy; they weren’t made for that. They were made to go into normal depth water. Because on the British sector they worked; they were fabulous when they were used right, but they were misused on Omaha Beach.

“Okay, so now we’re getting in there, the officer up front, he’s going crazy. He’s standing by the ramp looking for landmarks, and on the way in we could see fires up in the bluffs, grass fires, our shells made them. And nothing was moving on the beach. You didn’t see a single soul, nobody. And you’re thinking, gee, with all this artillery, and all this shelling, and all this bombing, and nothing out there, this is a piece of cake.

“But as we get near, I could see the officer up front, he’s going crazy, looking at his map, then looking out, looking at his map, and he’s swearing like hell, and we could hear the rumors come back through the, ‘We’re in the wrong goddamn place.’ ‘We’re not where we’re supposed to be.’ And this was true of almost every craft in the whole operation. They didn’t estimate how strong a tidal current there was, and everybody went left, which would be east, of where they were supposed to land. So when they landed, there were none of the landmarks, they weren’t where they were supposed to be. And that was our case too. We were supposed to land up on Easy Red, that was our beach, and I think we landed up on Fox, which was the next one over. But when you land, wherever you land, there’s these obstacles, so what the hell, one obstacle’s just like another, so you went to work on whatever was in front of you. Supposedly.

“So they dropped, everything’s nice and quiet, then all of a sudden, ping, ping, ping, ping, brrrrrr, on the ramp, we could hear the machine guns hitting. Something’s going wrong.

“We dropped the ramp. To my knowledge, we all got off the craft okay. But thereafter it was devastation. Jesus, guys started dropping and screaming all around you.

“Somehow the rubber raft got off, and it was right behind me. This is all explosives, see, this is the stuff we need to … I grabbed the tow rope, and I said, hey, I’ll get it in there where we can use it. I threw it over my shoulder and I started pulling it.

“All of a sudden I felt it get heavier. I look around, there’s three bodies of guys that were thrown in. Two were face down, I don’t know who they were. One was face up. I knew who he was.

“So I kept pulling. And then all of a sudden, Boom! A mortar came over and it hit the raft, and it just went all over.

“It hit all our demolition stuff, so naturally, I was knocked head over heels. I guess I probably blacked out. But when I came to, I was on my hands and knees. I was spitting blood. And I had the worst headache you can imagine.

“It took me a few minutes to realize what the hell happened. I sat back down, and I pulled my rope in, and all I got was a big piece of tattered rubber. That was the raft. The three guys, gone.”

“Who was the one guy that you knew?” I asked.

“He was named Charles Burt. I forget where he was from; he was from New York State. I don’t want to say, but I’m pretty sure I know who the other two were, but I don’t want to say because I can’t prove it. I’ll never be able to prove it. But in my heart I think I know who they were.”

“If you ventured a guess…”

“Well, I think it was my good buddies from Auburn, Johnny Spinelli and Vince DeAngelis. I can’t swear to that. They were never found. They’re on the Wall of Missing. And it ties in to this, their whole body would have been destroyed. That’s my deep gut feeling. I can’t prove that.

“I saw a bunch of my guys down a ways, so I hollered to them. One of them was an officer. He says, ‘Look, we’ve lost our explosives. We don’t have any men. It’s now every man for himself. Try to get to shore the best you can.” So from then on it was every man for himself.

“I tried to stay with them but we were soon separated, and I was all by myself. And I start, and you go from one obstacle, run to another, and on the way I come across this guy laying and moaning in the water. The full tide isn’t in yet, he’s just being washed with the waves. And I sort of stumble over, and I look at him. Jesus Christ, a buddy. One of my pals. And I could see his legs had really got it. I could see the raw bone through the flesh. Especially one leg. The other had been hit, but this leg was really bad.

“If I left him there he was gonna drown. He was gonna die. Well, I’ve got to do it. So I’m a little guy, and he was a pretty big guy. I knew I could never lift him and carry him in. So I tried everything I could think of. And I finally got down behind him, I got under his armpits, and I pushed like this, scrooch, pushed, scrooch. It was slow, torturous, but we were making progress, very, very slowly, and I was exhausted. That was a hell of a lot of work.”

“You still had your backpack and everything?”

“I think so. I lost my rifle. And my, oh, a lifebelt. I didn’t tell you I had a lifebelt? I got rid of that thing. And I lost my rifle back there someplace.”

“So you’re behind him like pushing him, right?”

“No, I’m pulling him. He’s right here, his head’s here, I’m under his armpits. My feet are in the sand, and I’m pulling, or tugging him, whatever you want to call it. Very slow. It was the only way I knew to get him. I couldn’t carry him. And I just hoped and prayed that some German up there, snipers, machine guns all around, maybe he’ll see us and take pity, here’s a guy trying to save another, maybe he’ll let us go. There are other, more important targets. And it worked, because nobody shot at us.

“But all of a sudden, rumbling up the side, here comes a tank. From where, I don’t know. A small tank. The guy up in the turret, he looks down. I didn’t even have to say anything. He saw my predicament. He dropped down. He probably said, ‘You’re in trouble, buddy,’ or something. I forget, but he, together, then we could pick him up, he grabbed an arm and I grabbed an arm, and we dragged him up to the dune. And then he said something like ‘Good luck. Take it easy.’ And he rushed back to the tank. I don’t know his name. I don’t even know what tank outfit he was in, or anything like that. Whatever tank outfit came in at D-Day on H-hour, one of the first ones. Sonofagun. And I don’t know his name, I don’t know his outfit. He helped me bring him up to the dune.”

“And what was the name of the wounded man?”

“Joe Milkovic. Buffalo, New York. And I never saw Joe, well, I’ll tell you a little more about him, but I never saw Joe again. He never came to our reunions. He never got in touch. Because when I found him, he was out of it. I don’t think he even knew who I was. Or what happened. But I’ve heard that he lost the leg, and he ended up a truck driver, do you believe that? A truck driver. But he’s still alive as far as I know. But he lost the leg.

“So I got him up on the dune. I looked around, I said this guy needs a medic. We all had a sulfa pack. I gave him what I could, and I didn’t know where the hell to put it. The guy’s … where are you gonna put it? I just sprinkled it all around. I finally was able to attract a medic over and he looked at him. I think he gave him an injection of morphine. He said, ‘There’s not much I can do for this guy. But leave him here, because we’re gonna have an aid station and we’re gonna send these guys out to the ship very, very soon.’

“So I took his advice and I said, ‘Joe, God bless you,’ and all this stuff. He didn’t even, he was not aware of what was going on. Evidently the medic was able to get him to a ship.

“But I’ve made the dune now. I’m in one piece. And then you sit there and you look at all the chaos and the devastation. Guys floating in the surf, dead, wounded. The wounded screaming. And you’re sitting in the dune and you’re looking back at it, out into the water, and there are ships burning, smoking. Oh, this must be the day of doom, Armaggedon. If this is war, I don’t like it. And all the beautiful plans we had made and practiced, all gone for naught. All confused, chaos.”

“Were you like in shock, or how did you regroup?”

“I guess I had to be in shock, yeah. Numb. Unbelievable, what was happening. This is not the way it was supposed to be, so you had no way of coping with it. This is a whole different ballgame, this isn’t the way we trained, or scheduled. So that affected you, you didn’t know what to do, you had no leaders, no nothing. Just pure chaos. And then you see all these dead guys, buddies. That’s hard to cope with, the first time, to see death. I don’t care who you are. And when you’re a close personal friend, boy, it hurts. It gets you. It upsets your whole, whatever you, you thought you were tough, brave and gung-ho, boy, it gets you.

“I said to myself, I’m all alone now, where I brought Joe up to the dune, we’re all alone. We may have been the first ones to have reached that far; there was nobody around. I had a hell of a time getting a medic for him, they were all out in the distance.

When I brought the wounded guy, Joe, I’m sitting there, and about 60 yards away comes a guy staggering along the beach, I don’t know, staggering, foundering. His backpack is gone, his clothes are in shreds. One arm is dangling. It looks like he picked it up. He turns and half his head is blown away. And something told me I know that guy, something about his stature, his walk, I know this guy. And as it was, he turned toward me and looked at me, and through all that gore and all that tattered clothing, I saw the tie. Back on the ship, the tie. And then he looked back, I don’t think he knew who I was or anything. I wanted to cry out to him; I couldn’t. I didn’t have any voice. I was frozen. I couldn’t move out. He just staggered away.”

“He didn’t recognize you?”

“I don’t think so. I’ll never know.”

“But he was listed as killed?”

“He’s gone. Yeah. Aw, Jesus. It’s funny. I never wanted to be a soldier. It was the last thing in my life I would have wanted to be was a soldier. But like I told you, Pearl Harbor changed my opinion. I didn’t know what being a soldier was until that day.

“It was a lot of fun, these exercises, these hikes. Hey, a great bunch of guys, having fun.”

“Did you have any thoughts, I guess, that evening, once things quieted down – did things quiet down once you were on the beach?”

“Oh, the evening. Well, that afternoon we went back out and we blew up obstacles, like I told you. And then there were two or three of us from the same outfit; we said, ‘We’ve got to get with our own people, so let’s start looking for them.’ So we started down the beach, and sonofagun, we ran into a couple of our buddies. ‘Hey, the whole outfit, they’re assembling up on the bluff.’ We go back there. We’re supposed to get all the people and have them assemble up there. So we made our way through the barbed wire thing up in the bluff, never thought about mines, just went on up in the bluff. And soon there was a pretty big group of guys, our guys, assembling up there, some officers and whatnot. They told us, ‘We’ve taken a pretty bad beating. We’ll talk about it in the morning. Tonight just try to dig in right up here in the bluffs. Stay close.’ That was about it. So we went and dug a foxhole or you found a ravine, whatever you could, and try to grit the night out. But you couldn’t sleep. You’d lay down, because over there, infantry was still moving up. Tanks were still moving up. A lot of commotion going. Down on the beach, they were still unloading stuff. You were so excited and revved up that you couldn’t sleep. Later that evening, a couple of German planes came over, to kind of strafe the place. I don’t think they strafed. They were reconnaissance more or less. Well, out in the harbor, ten thousand boats, every one of them opened up. It looked like the Fourth of July. I don’t think they got either one of them. But it was a lot of noise. And a lot of guys took their rifle, I saw officers with .45s trying to shoot a plane down. Oh, and during the evening somebody hollered, ‘Gas!’ Well, that shook everybody up. Gas, that’s the worst word in the war is, ‘Gas.’”

“Did you still have a gas mask at that point?”

“I did. But I heard guys crying, ‘I don’t have a gas mask!’ A lot of them went down to the beach, thought if they got in the water that would save them. It was crazy. And it was a false alarm. If we ever found the SOB who, he wouldn’t be around today. It was bad for 15 or 20 minutes. I guess what cleared it off, the infantry’s coming up this trail not far away from us, they’re looking at us with all our gas masks, what the hell’s this? They’re laughing. And you felt like a goddamn fool. Oh boy, crazy things.”

*

When I was a kid my grandmother would take me to a theater called the Thalia, where they showed often brilliantly paired double features. It was there that I first saw “Casablanca” and “The Maltese Falcon,” and a twin bill of Jean-Luc Godard’s “Breathless” and “Pierrot le Fou.” Twin bills have long gone the way of penny candy and five and dimes, but if the Thalia had not been bulldozed to make way for a hi-rise apartment building (to the developers’ credit, the new building contains a theater where “Selected Short” stories read by famous actors are performed), it would, in a heartbeat, book a double showing of “Barbie” and “Oppenheimer.” And I wouldn’t put it past them to pair “Pressure” and “Stormaganza.”

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Henry the Butcher

Bernie Levine, a bombardier on a B-17, was a prisoner at Stalag Luft I after his plane was shot down. After returning home, he became a successful businessman, and loved the game of golf. When I interviewed him at his home in Hackensack, New Jersey, in 1998, I spoke briefly with his wife, Lenore, and she told me I should be sure to ask him about a trip he took to return to Stalag Luft 1, and about a guard at the camp named Henry, who was a butcher in the States and returned to Germany at the outbreak of the war.

“Lenore said that before you went on this trip back to the camp,” I said, “you had told her there were three things you would never do once you were liberated. One was that you would never be hungry …”

“If I was in control of my circumstances,” Bernie said. “I would never again be cold.”

“And he would never go back to Germany,” Lenore said.

“I would never go back to Germany,” Bernie repeated.

‘And when did you hear about this tour that was going back to the camp?” I asked. “Through a POW newsletter?”

“Yes,” Lenore Levine said. “Bernie had never had any part of any POW organization or anything else. He didn’t even know they existed, because once he came out of the service, he wanted out. So he had no mailings, no knowledge whatsoever of anything. But some, Bernie had kept in touch with the navigator and his wife, who became a widow, and he speaks to them over the years, but never about anything that had to do with POW because he, too, came out of the service and it was all over. But she had heard about the POW organization, and sent Bernie one of the mailings. I think it was a magazine or newsletter , and Bernie was leafing through it and saw this trip, 50th anniversary…”

“So this is only 1995?” I said.

“Forty-five to ‘95, Mom,” Sharon Levine, their daughter, who was sitting in on the interview, said. “That would make sense. Fifty years.”

“That was only four years ago,” Lenore said.

“Three years ago,” Sharon corrected. “This is 1998.”

“It seems like a million years ago,” Lenore said. “Oh my god, isn’t that amazing? It seems like a million years ago. Anyhow, Bernie saw this and very out of character for him, he said, “How would you like to go on this trip?” And usually I have to guess what Bernie wants.

“It was a Scandinavian tour, of Scandinavian capitals, with a side trip to Barth, Germany,” Bernie said.

“I generally, our modus operandi here, is I have to guess what he would like and then make it his idea,” Lenore said. “This all of a sudden he’s suggesting, which was so out of character that although that may not have been my first choice, I said, ‘Sure.’ Because I knew he absolutely wanted it if he was suggesting it. He never knew he needed closure on that, but he really did.”

Toward the end of the interview, the full text of which is included in my book “Prisoners of War: An Oral History,” I said, “Tell me about this guard, what was his name, Harry the Butcher? Your wife was telling me a little bit about this.”

“Yeah,” Bernie said. “One of the guards there was a real miserable person. He did everything he could to taunt us, flaunt, whatever. And Harry wasn’t his name. Henry. Henry the Butcher. And he used to walk around with his cockiness. Then when the Allies started to win, and it became obvious that Germany was defeated, he still maintained that cockiness, and he said, “I’ll be back in the States before you will.” And that used to just .... be back in the States before we will. But the denouement of that whole story was when the German guards evacuated and left the camp completely in our control, then there were some fellows who went down into town. I was down in the town, I got out, I walked around. Everybody did. They walked around the town, they walked down into the town, and, oh ... they came across this Henry, Henry the Butcher, and they shot him. Because he had been such a miserable bastard. They also found the kommandant and shot him too. These were American troops.”

“See, the way the story developed, we have pictures of it,” Lenore Levine said, “we were on the bus, and there’s a German guide, a young fellow, nice guy, introduced the lady, who had made it her life’s work for the past five years to find out about her father. Her father had not returned from the war. Many of course in her town did not return, but they all knew that either they had gone to the Russians, they died, they escaped to South America. Everybody was accounted for in some way but the only one in the town who was not accounted for was her father. So her mother’s life’s mission was to find out about what happened to the father. The mother died five years previously, and she said she took it over as her mission. And at that time Eastern Germany was opened up, so there were many trips now, and she got on every one of the buses wherever people were going to Barth, Germany, I guess it was only to Barth Germany, Stalag Luft 1. And there were many groups, and she went on and asked if anybody knew her father and nobody did, or said they did. And for all those years she had been doing this. This time she gets on the bus and tells the story about her father. He had been a German who had gone to America, bought a house there, he and his wife had a child. And he had a butcher shop. And Bernie goes like this to me...”

“He pinched you in the arm?” I said.

“Or poked me in the ribs. Something like that. And she said that during the war, once the war started, just prior to the war, her grandmother got sick, so the father had to give up his business and his house and come back to Germany with his wife. Of course that was not true. They came back as Bernie said to get on the bandwagon, they thought there was going to be a war and Germany was going to win the war and they would live happily ever after. Anyhow, he got back to Germany and she was born. And then her father went into the army and got a job as a guard at Stalag Luft 1. Does anybody know about her father?

“So when we got off the bus, Bernie said to me, ‘I know who he is. I wasn’t there, but I know what happened.’

“I said, ‘Are you gonna tell her?’

“He said, ‘I haven’t decided yet.’ Then he thought about it, and decided, he went up to her and asked her, ‘If you feel that what anybody were to say about your father was uncomplimentary and unkind, would you still want to hear about it?’

“She said, ‘Absolutely.’ She knows her father was not well liked; that she has heard.

“Bernie said, ‘If you can understand that, then I can tell you.’

“And we have pictures of this whole thing, the whole scenario.”

“Now this is?” I asked.

“Stalag Luft 1,” Lenore said. “Here is the monument site. Here they’re laying wreaths. This is the woman and her husband. Bernie and the guide.”

“It provided closure,” Sharon Levine said. “Which is as much important as the fact that her father died, just to know exactly what happened.”

“Absolutely,” Lenore said. “Now, there was one thing I don’t know whether I had mentioned to you, that one disappointment that Bernie had when we were there that day. His only contact, the 15 months when he was at Stalag Luft 1 his only contact with the outer world was seeing the church steeple in town; out beyond the barbed wire he saw the steeple. So he expected to see it. But unfortunately, it was a very foggy, overcast day, and he couldn’t see it, and he was disappointed. So we did the next best thing; after we finished all the ceremonies we went into town and we went into the church. And in the church was this woman, kneeling, and crying and praying. This was her mourning.”

Leave it to the internet to find a modicum of redeeming value in a Nazi prison guard. These two accounts are at Merkki.com, an excellent site devoted to the history of Stalag Luft I.

Henry was an Intelligence Officer. He was known to the POWs as “Henry the butcher” because he had once lived in New York where he owned a butcher shop. Click on his name to the left for more information and to view photos of Stalag Luft I from his personal photo album.

“But Henry! He is undoubtedly a very high class German, having once owned a butcher shop in New York. Arrogant, he is in the abwehr department and pulls the blitz-barracks searches. Short and fat, with straw colored hair - the boys don’t like Henry. — From Charles Early’s Wartime Log

“When I was young and living in Garden City, Long Island, New York, my mother would always drive to a neighboring town, named Hempstead, on Saturdays for her weekly supply of meats. I always wanted to go with her because I loved the atmosphere of the shop due to its large chopping block and the sawdust on the floor. This was during the 1930s. The name of the owner was “Herman”. Mom told me one day that Herman had returned to Germany in the late 30’s because Hitler had demanded all Germans born in Germany to return to the Fatherland to help become a great nation. As he put it “Once a German, always a German”. Herman related to that, according to my mother, and left the US with his family. She missed him very much, and never found another butcher she liked as she did “Herman”.

I, as a member of the 8th Air Force, was shot down in July 1944. I arrived in Barth and Stalag Luft I (Eins) in August. Upon arriving, I was processed as a prisoner in the normal fashion. About the second or third German to whom I presented myself said to me “Richard ! -- how wonderful to see you. How is your mother?” It was “Herman the butcher”! — Richard A Matheis. Stalag Luft I POW

“Scotty”

When I called to set up an interview with Coast Guard veteran Lou Putnoky in conjunction with the 50th anniversary of D-Day in 1994, his wife answered the phone. We chatted briefly, and she said to be sure to ask him about one story in particular that he is hesitant to talk about.

Lou Putnoky: D-plus two or three we got a radio message for help from this one, from a PT-boat. What they did at Normandy, we also had, our ship, we had a PT boat following us constantly in tow. Our ship was supposed to last three days on paper, and then it was supposed to be sunk, and the PT boat was there to take our admiral off, and to transfer the flag onto another ship.

Aaron Elson: Say that again...

Lou Putnoky: Our ship on paper, in the Normandy invasion planning, was literally supposed to be sunk after three days. They just figured, you’re gonna last maybe three days if everything goes well, because they had to prepare for the worst. So this is three days, this is the PT boat that was attached, it will stay right with your ship, and when your ship gets hit, the admiral gets transferred, and he goes on a ship that hasn’t been hit, and his flag and his staff, whatever is necessary he takes. I mean, it’s a horrible thing, but it’s the truth, because you have to plan for these things.

Aaron Elson: How does that make you feel?

Lou Putnoky: It makes you, it gives you a weird, but you’re young...

Aaron Elson: Did they explain that to you?

Lou Putnoky: We knew it. But you’re young, and you’re full of piss and vinegar. At this point, we just wanted to get something done already, because we were so patriotic, and so enthusiastic about whipping the German, the Nazi, at this point, and then we had done so much training up to this point, we said the hell with this training, we know how good we are, we had the confidence, you know, let’s go, we know we can do it. It was like an avalanche. It just happened. And you just go. I can’t say anything else for it. You get caught up in it. You get caught up in it.

Aaron Elson: Okay, so you’ve got this PT boat...

Lou Putnoky: First of all, how the PT boats came over. This squadron was out in the Pacific. This was Commander Buckley’s squadron from the Pacific and Corregidor. He’s the one that got MacArthur off Corregidor. His squadron. So because of this gigantic invasion, they brought that whole squadron over to Normandy. This was one of the boats that belonged to Commander Buckley’s squadron, that called our ship, since ours was flagship, for assistance, that they’re sinking, and he’s broached on the reef, and they need help. This was D-plus two or three. I don’t know exactly. So real fast we hustled up a crew, and two landing barges, the bigger ones that carry the tanks. We’re told, okay, we’re gonna go, and the plan — this happened very fast — we’re gonna go to his assistance, and the plan is to pull alongside and we’re going to try and broach on each side and tie the PT boat up and bring it onto a safe shore, because it was laying off an enemy shore. So okay, we’re heading over, and it’s laying off an enemy shore, two, three hundred yards, and it’s broached. It’s just the skipper, everybody else he told to get off, because they were rescued by other PT boats. But the skipper wouldn’t leave the boat. He’s sitting in the bow, and he’s sitting like that, only the bow, and he’s got a Navy machine gun in his lap, wiry little guy, and we see him sitting, so we pulled up; but I can understand why he stayed with his boat. You see, during that time you didn’t, you held onto your equipment like it was something special. Now, he knew if he lost his boat, he was a JG, a lieutenant junior grade, if he lost his boat he would end up being a subordinate somewhere else, and god knows how long before he would get another boat, so he was just, he’s staying with his boat, and he was a wiry little guy, I admired him, I remember. So we pulled up on each side, real fast, and tied up, and from a distance the battleship Nevada is lobbing shells in to cover this rescue, to keep them down.

Anyhow, we tied up fast, and full power on both landing crafts, we pulled out, and naturally, under the force of the full power his boat came off the reef, and they were able to back him off the reef, and we brought him over, if I would have to take a guess, maybe a mile, a mile and a half, onto a secure beach.

So everything is going pretty good, we’re coming over to our beach, it just so happens, believe me, I’m not making this up, one of our planes had been shot down, this plane is going down, I see the pilot is parachuting, he’s heading right for the beach that we’re heading for; this is all adding to this picture, this is my, the strangest day that I ever had.

Anyway, we broached this PT boat, we backed off, in the distance this pilot landed, we know he was hit and whatnot, and all the confusion of this beach and what’s happening, we backed off, and then we’re heading back, because this took us quite a bit of time.

So on our way back, we’re heading back, an LST loaded with wounded, hits a mine, blows up in the distance. We picked up about six survivors, and other landing barges picked up some of them. Now we’re still, because we have to get back. So we’re heading back to our ship and we get hailed by the Nevada, because we had to pass the Nevada to get to our ship, and they hailed us, and we went over, and they said, “We had a man overboard,” to take a look.

The seas were getting a little rough, so we made two passes around the battleship Nevada, and we went like this, can’t find anything, then we said we have to leave. So they said Thank you.

So we thought nothing of it. We went back to our ship; now they were concerned because we were gone quite some time. So I get aboard ship, they said, “Where the hell were you guys, we worried, we thought maybe you guys got in trouble, we thought maybe something happened to you.”

So we said, well, no, we made the rescue, and then the Nevada called us over, they had a man overboard, off a battleship, man overboard. It was a strange thing. I don’t know what made me even ask. Believe me, to this day I don’t know. I said to the radio operator, a friend of mine, “There was a man overboard. The next time you’re talking to them, by radio,” in the confusion of this why the hell would you even ask a stupid question, I said, “Ask them where the guy’s from,” because in the service you always, where is he from, where is he from, sort of thing. “Ask them where he’s from and what’s his name.”

So that night I’m having a sandwich in the mess hall, he said, “Hey Lou, that guy off the Nevada, the guy’s from Jersey, from Carteret, his name is Duffy.”

I says, “Oh, God.” It was just like that, it hit me. I knew the kid because I had gone to grade school with him. Of course, he didn’t go to high school. But I knew the kid, he said John Duffy. I felt weird. Strange. It was crazy. I said “Oh, what a pity.” But what happened in his case, he was, they lowered a gangway, and whenever any small boats came alongside the Nevada, it was his job to guide that boat in.

And what happened, the seas got rough, hit him, and it slammed him up against the ship, and he slid under and must have slipped on his life jacket but the seas were too rough, we never found him.

Now, this is the strange part of the story. Now of course after the battle of, the invasion of Normandy, we had Southern France, Iwo Jima, Okinawa, and this is, we’re talking years now, I got discharged, and I went back to my job as timekeeper down at U.S. Metals, so this is two or three years after the war. We’re doing payroll, and this one man comes into the office, Scotty -- I knew this boy’s family, they lived on Chrome Avenue, there was a row of company homes, but you never spoke any of this, especially when someone was killed in the service or missing.

And I knew that this was his father; he was a little man, we called him Scotty, a very good-natured individual, he had two sons and his wife was an invalid, she was crippled, she had a back problem, the typical, you know, you felt bad. I knew they lost a son, but I never struck up a conversation regarding...until he asked a friend of mine, who happened to be on that payroll, he says, the friend asked him, “Where you going Scotty?”

He said, “Oh, I’m going on vacation. Two weeks.”

So okay, he gave him the slip to get his money, and as he left the office, this friend of mine, Dan Donovan, he was in Guadalcanal during the war, he says “Hey Lou, you know where that guy’s going?” where Scotty’s going.

I said, “No.”

“Yeah,” he says, “he went there last year, he’s going there again this year. He’s taking his vacation, he’s going to England. Then he’s going to take the ferry over to France, and he’s gonna start going from hospital to hospital, and different churches, he’s going to go look for his son.”

I says, “My god.” I says, “You mean, he doesn’t know what happened to...”

“No. All he got was a missing in action telegram from the Navy.”

Oh my god. So I stopped everything. All of a sudden I got this picture in my mind. I ran out, and outside the plant I caught him at the railroad tracks as he was crossing over, I says, “Scotty,” I don’t even, I hate to talk about it because it upsets me sometimes, I says, “Scotty,” I says, “you’re going on vacation?”

He says, “Yeah.”

I said, “You lost a son during World War II.” Now this is, say, this is three years or four years after the incident, because Normandy was on June 6, ‘44. So this is way after. I says, “You lost a son in Normandy.”

He says, “Yeah.”

I says, “Your son was on the Nevada.”

He looks at me real strange, and says, “How do you know?”

I says, “Scotty,” I says, “They never said anything?”

“No, I just got missing in action,” it was hard for him to talk, you know.

I says, “Scotty, I don’t know how to tell you this. I was there.” I says, “I know what happened.” And I told him the story. And Jesus Christ, it still, I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t relate the story for years, and all of a sudden it just came out this one time. And I felt every single emotion that this man felt. And it upset me terribly. And he was elated, relieved, just knowing, see, a person doesn’t know when you get a missing in action what that does. It would take a serviceman that’s had some experience about something like this. And he, this little man with his little bandy legs, he turned and he jogged all the way home, across the field from the plant. And of course he never took his vacation.

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