No Victory in Valhalla Read online

  Belonging to the seminary, the chapel was converted into a makeshift operating theater, while the floor of the beautiful arched-glass-covered courtyard became a recovery and ward area. At the time when the road to Neufchâteau was closed, over 100 wounded were awaiting evacuation to Massul and additional hospital space was now needed.

  Capt “Shifty” Feiler, who had evaded capture at Crossroad X, had made his way back to Bastogne (most probably with Capt Patterson) where he established a secondary aid station for the “walking wounded” directly behind Col Sink’s CP in the indoor rifle range at Caserne Heintz. The new facility was partially supported by doctors and medical personnel from the 81st AA Bn, 326th Airborne Engineer Bn and the 705th TD Bn, who had taken over the workshop building next door to the range. In the days that followed the medics at the workshop went on to establish an x-ray department as well as a secondary operating theater.

  Back on the LOD 2nd Bn was ordered to take over the H Co sector and Detaille Farm. During the fighting 1st Lt Jerome Knight (2 Ptn I Co) was killed. Out of the corner of his eye, Sgt Harley Dingman thought he saw a German soldier dive into a nearby haystack. “This was the only time I fired my revolver in combat and squeezed off a round into the stack, which then caught fire, but I don’t think the two were connected.” Afterwards 3 Ptn pulled back to the woods adjacent to the embankment near the stream. “Up until then my guys had been using the spring so I went back to quickly refill my canteen,” Dingman continues. “To my horror, looking down, I suddenly noticed the front part of a human skull and some brain matter in the water and immediately pulled back.” Emptying the contaminated contents, Dingman instructed his men not to use the stream even if it meant going without water for the next few hours.

  Acting Sgt Len “Sam” Goodgal (1 Ptn) was manning a .30cal light machine gun with privates first class Harvey Cross and Ray Crouch. As the team were engaging an enemy machine gun, a hail of bullets tore up the ground around them. Several rounds struck Harvey down the side of his body. “I was lucky,” recalls Goodgal. “One of the bullets just grazed my cheek. Upon lifting Harvey’s clothing, Ray and I realized he was critically injured.” At that moment Goodgal spotted one of the medical evacuation jeeps coming up behind them through the murk along the Bizory road. With Cross unconscious in their arms, Goodgal and Crouch flagged the vehicle down and threw Harvey on an empty stretcher alongside three other wounded soldiers. “Later we heard that Harvey had died at the aid station in the seminary but I think he may already have already been beyond help when we loaded him onto the jeep.”

  Moments earlier, Richie Shinn was hit by machine-gun fire while crossing the road. Despite Shinn’s agility one of the bullets passed through the palm of his hand. Harold Stedman saw his boxing buddy go down and ran through the heavy fire to assist. Shinn was still lying on the ground completely disorientated when Harold reached him. “I couldn’t get any sense out of Richie, and as he didn’t seem able to stand, I threw him over my shoulder and ran to the aid station. One of the medics saw that my legs were soaked with what he thought was blood and it was only then I noticed the crotch of my pants was shot away. It turned out that a bullet had penetrated both of my canteens, sending water cascading down the backs of my legs!” For saving Shinn, Stedman was awarded another “V” for Valor to his Bronze Star.

  T/5 Eugene “Gene” Johnson was a radio operator with 3 Ptn H Co. “Lt Andros had sent me to make contact with our right flank when I spotted a group of Germans crawling through the woods. Returning with the bad news I ran into an officer from E Co who then took some of his men and went after the enemy troops.” The officer Johnson spoke with was most likely 2nd Lt Richard Hughes (Ed Shames’ new assistant). 3 Ptn had spent the night with I Co before redeploying to assist 3rd Bn. Alex Andros recalls, “2nd Bn [who had been in reserve] finally came through just as we were pulling out [around 1030hrs] and occupied our positions. We made our way back to the high ground [Bois Champay] west of the main road immediately south of Foy. As H Co were moving toward the ridgeline, 19-year-old Pfc Guy Jackson, who had joined 3 Ptn just before Holland, remembers passing five smartly uniformed and clean shaven German corpses, lined up on the ground in a neat row.

  Due to the fog, smoke, and confusion, Ken Johnson and his 1st Squad were left behind when H Co withdrew. “I don’t remember being relieved by E Co or anyone else from 2/506. Eventually we found our way back through the fog to the company where we had already been listed as missing.”

  When Harry Begle and Clark Heggeness arrived at the seminary there were a number of wounded Germans lying on the floor, recalls Harry: “The Krauts were moaning and carrying on so I called out, ‘Shut your damn mouths, you bastards!’” Begle was luckier than Heggeness:

  I was evacuated on one of the last ambulances out of Bastogne along with 1st Lt Pat Sweeney [HQ Co 1/506] who had been hit through the shoulder at Noville. After arriving at a forward field hospital [probably Massul] the medics could only assess our wounds before tagging and moving us on. A few days later we ended up in a field hospital at Verviers near Liège [there were two medical facilities at Verviers in Belgium utilized by the US First Army – the 77th Evacuation Hospital and the 9th Field Hospital]. Pat and I had only been there for a couple of hours before the place had to be evacuated due to the close proximity of the enemy! Finally the medical services put us on a hospital train to Paris – up until then I don’t think we’d slept for three whole days.

  “When Gare du Nord was badly damaged by a German air raid in late December, we served a record 24 trains in 24 hours,” recalls Helen Briggs. “Most days we could expect four to five trains at Gare de l’Est, each carrying approximately 300 wounded. As the men were waiting to be unloaded we would serve coffee and donuts along with copies of Stars & Stripes magazine. Unfortunately my work as American Red Cross Director never really allowed me enough time to go onto the trains except for the odd occasion when I had prior warning about any soldiers from 3rd Bn coming through. It was heartbreaking to see those injured boys who really appreciated the company provided by our American girls.”

  Over the next week, as the German forces tightened their grip around Bastogne, the growing list of casualties trapped within the town grew to epic proportions. Clark Heggeness recalls: “Those of us cut off from evacuation were treated twice a day. The medics would dust my wounds with sulfanilamide powder [a strong antibiotic] and administer a shot of morphine [which, unlike C Rations, was in plentiful supply]. There was no food available and the only things I had to eat were apples.”

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  The night before the first enemy attack, the positions occupied by 1 Ptn H Co in Foy had been hit a number of times by random shellfire, as 1st Lt Bob Stroud recalls: “Lt Smith was terrified and I spent most of the night telling him to go away, do his job and look after the platoon.” Sgt Martin’s squad sustained several casualties from incoming mortar and artillery fire including replacement privates Ralph Keene and Arthur McGinnis. “This one kid had been hit in the stomach and was evacuated back to my CP,” continues Stroud. “I sent someone to the rear for a stretcher but he came back empty handed. So we found a ladder in an adjacent stable and covered it with a blanket. I then detailed two men to carry the wounded trooper up the hill to our aid station.”

  Watching from the upper windows of Gaspard Farm, Gordon Yates was monitoring communications chatter on his sound powered phone. It was just getting light as the communications sergeant squinted into the gloom across the street toward the outpost at Paquay Farm. Suddenly one of Hank DiCarlo’s men manning the radio in the OP quietly alerted Yates to the arrival of some enemy tanks and SPGs, one of which was now parked in a side street directly below the OP. As Yates was informing Lt Stroud, another tank came clattering around the corner through the mist along the road to his right. At that moment all hell broke loose as the Panzer began firing at random from left to right.

  With tank shells exploding all around, Stroud decided to break down the radio equipment and abandon the
CP. Before withdrawing, Bob moved forward to double check the situation at Paquay Farm. “After dislodging a couple of roof tiles, I was horrified to see the German tank still parked outside. A number of enemy soldiers were nonchalantly standing around the vehicle, so I ran back downstairs and grabbed a bazooka. Poking the barrel through the hole in the roof, I fired one rocket into the Panther’s tracks.” Rushing downstairs to get more ammunition, Stroud bumped into Pfc Wilber Johnson who had the foresight to bring up another projectile. In the meantime, the Panzer was backing away into the fog under a protective hail of small-arms fire.

  Realizing the OP was compromised. Stroud issued orders to abandon the building. Ignoring Stroud’s instructions, Hank DiCarlo, who was still on the other side of the property, began to shout fire control orders to his men who were dug in below. “I was more concerned about the enemy troops now appearing through the mist along the main road and northern edge of the perimeter in front of me. Although I still couldn’t see any tanks, I shouted down to my squad: ‘Watch my tracers’ and began firing an M1 rifle at the advancing troops over on my right. Pvt Hargett and his Number Two landed several bazooka rounds into the lead group, and moments later Jack Grace’s machine gun burst into life followed by the rifleman. I was continuing to fire at every target that presented itself until a German tank entered the perimeter with its gun aimed directly at me!”

  This was probably the same Panzer targeted a few minutes earlier by Bob Stroud. Without hesitating, DiCarlo – still in the OP – turned and jumped down the grain shaft as the first round tore the top off the silo. Fortunately there was still enough hay in the basement to break his fall. After the enemy tank attacked the OP at Paquay Farm the crew focused their attention on the tracer rounds emanating from 2nd Squad’s machine gun, as Lou Vecchi recalls: “The previous evening, I told my LMG crew to remove every red-tipped tracer round from their ammunition belts but they didn’t listen. As I moved forward to have a few words, the enemy tank turned its turret toward us and fired. The shell exploded into a tree behind our position and severely damaged my hearing, leaving me totally disoriented. Just when I thought we were done for, a Sherman TD arrived [possibly one of the tanks left behind at Foy in reserve] and destroyed the enemy tank at extremely close range.”

  Hank DiCarlo managed to rejoin his squad, who were then handed another unexpected stroke of luck. “The thick curtain of mist returned and descended across the battlefield, causing all small-arms fire to stop for around 10 minutes. The fog slowly lifted and once again we were in full view of each other firing at close quarters. The fog descended again. A few minutes later as it was lifting we could see more enemy troops coming in, and word came down the line that we had to fall back about 700 yards to the high ground. What astonished me when I got around to counting heads was the fact that my squad had only two men with superficial wounds.” The platoon withdrew under a hail of protective fire from S/Sgt Frank Padisak, who was crouching behind a woodpile pouring bullets from a Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR) into the oncoming enemy troops. The somewhat demoralized gray-clad infantry were now trying desperately to cut across the N30 while “the Slovak” (as Padisak was known) held his ground, buying precious time for the battalion.

  At that point H and I companies reorganized on the ridgeline on the western side of the N30 above Foy. After re-forming in the Bois Champay, Guy Jackson reached into his top pocket for a cigarette case. “I was shocked to find the container (which I’d acquired in Holland) had been punctured by a piece of shrapnel and deflected off my GI spoon!” With his hearing now completely gone, Lou Vecchi was in agony and went over to ask Bob Stroud if he could be evacuated for treatment. Stroud agreed but as Vecchi was preparing to depart the company supply sergeant, Ferdinand Wilczek, demanded that he hand back his army issue combat wristwatch! “I couldn’t believe it and promptly told him where to go,” recalls Vecchi. Moments later a jeep driven by Pvt Charlie Kier, who was still on light duties after being seriously wounded in Holland, arrived and evacuated Vecchi to the rifle range at Caserne Heintz.

  After Kier and Vecchi had gone, Capt Walker came over and informed Bob Stroud that the battalion was now on a warning order to mount a diversionary attack into Foy to help facilitate 1st Bn’s escape from Noville. Hank DiCarlo was nearby and overheard the last words of their conversation, as Walker emphasized to Stroud, “They may be thinking they’re heading for Bastogne but they are not going to get up THIS road. Do you understand me, Bob? It’s here or nowhere. Pass that on to your men.” At the time Stroud had just finished digging in with his runner Pvt Bill Brackett and Lt Smith, who was helping to cover the sizable hole with logs. Although the ridge was mostly concealed by woodland, the open field in front of the tree line dropped away in a short convex incline. Stroud was asked by Walker to move forward with a couple of men and establish an OP overlooking Foy. “We proceeded down the slope through a long finger of woodland to the edge of the trees, but as there seemed to be nothing happening I came back to grab a quick bite to eat. Sitting on the roof of our trench, searching through a ration pack, a shell exploded in the trees, wounding Lt Smith and myself. Smith was screaming in pain after losing the use of his arm. Although I was also hit in the shoulder my wound was nowhere near as painful as Smith’s. Luckily Brackett escaped unharmed but was clearly shaken.” After saying goodbye to the platoon, Stroud and Smith were evacuated by Charlie Kier to the rifle range. Unlike the two officers, Lou Vecchi remained at the range for less than 24 hours. “It was horrendous and the sand-covered concrete floor was freezing cold. I decided to hell with it – the front line has got to be better than this place – so I picked up my equipment and headed back to Foy, blood still trickling from my ears.”

  Earlier, further north in Noville, Maj Bob Harwick had been anxiously waiting and hoping that the fog would not lift: “Moments later the first of many enemy barrages screamed in, creating more smoke and dust which added to the mist, bringing visibility down to less than 20 yards. Word came back from the OPs that they could hear German tanks on the move. Within a few minutes the countryside became a confusion of clanking treads, dark shadows, and dirty yellow flashes as the tanks fired blindly into the town. The enemy formation disappeared and every engagement thereafter was a tank and a few men probing here, trying there. One of our tank destroyers held position and fired at such close range that the results were murderous. The fog was a mixed blessing, allowing the enemy tanks to slip through our defenses.”

  Over 20 tanks formed a U-shape around Noville and systematically pulverized the town with constant gunfire. Harwick continues: “One tank in particular was knocked out no more than 50ft away by one of ours, which although partially disabled was now protecting the CP. The shelling intensified and part of the wall from the church steeple came crashing down into the street.”

  Lt Canham and his small team of FOs from the 321st GFA had selected a stone-built barn on the northeastern edge of town as their OP, as Pfc Jay Stone recalls:

  Canham and Sgt Plummer were on the second floor observing through an open window. Canham was connected to a radio that I’d previously set up at the other end of the barn and was relaying fire missions to our Fire Detection Center [FDC] at Savy. The Germans were pounding Noville with everything they had and the piercing whistle of incoming projectiles was overwhelming. Suddenly a tank shell exploded right next to the barn and Plummer called me on the telephone to say that the lieutenant had been hit. Grabbing one of the aid men, we went upstairs to find the boss was dead. Amazingly the FDC urged us to remain in position and carry on, although we had no intention of going anywhere at that point as Sgt Plummer took over and successfully continued to direct our guns.

  Due to the aid station being overwhelmed with casualties, 1st Bn opened another in a nearby cellar. “It was obvious that our losses were leaving gaps in the line that just couldn’t be plugged and still we had no communications with Bastogne,” recalls Bob Harwick. He continues:

  The CP personnel, switchboard operators, clerks, an
d the walking wounded were sent out to fight alongside the rifle companies. As the enemy tanks were regrouping there seemed to be a brief lull. A half-track that contained unserviceable radio equipment was loaded with the most critically injured. I designated a driver to try and force his way back to Bastogne along with a message: “Casualties heavy – no more armor piercing shells, request reinforcements, ammunition, and medical supplies.” The vehicle departed but didn’t return, although I subsequently found out that the driver had actually made it through to Bastogne.

  At about 1000hrs we briefly made contact with Regiment by radio. I was afraid to tell them of our true situation over the air, and the message we received was “Hold at all costs.” It was at this point that another German tank attack punched through our forward positions and advanced down the road [N30] toward my CP. The TDs got their 20th tank which burned on the edge of town, setting fire to a building which up until that point had remained miraculously undamaged.

  The radio belonging to the FOs became the only means of communication with the 506th via a link between the Fire Direction Center and Pfc Victor Sauerheber at the caserne. Any messages that came through were immediately passed on to Maj Harwick, who recalls, “The situation in Noville was now so acute that I called in all the company commanders for a briefing. Another couple of attacks, I explained, would finish us as a fighting force, and then discussed plans to fight a withdrawal. One of my men volunteered to drive a jeep carrying three of the wounded down the main road with a note for BrigGen McAuliffe that read, ‘We can hold out but not indefinitely.’ About 1230hrs a radio operator in one of the tanks picked up a message telling the armored units to assist the infantry in fighting out of Noville.”