Beyond Band of Brothers (19 page)

Word of the German offensive filtered down to 2d Battalion headquarters on the evening of December 17, and Colonel Sink immediately cancelled all leaves and began the process of assembling the battalions for immediate movement. Trucks from the Services of Supply forces arrived at Mourmelon the following morning, and by December 19, the entire 101st Airborne Division was heading toward Bastogne. The 506th conducted the movement in forty 10-ton trailers. The regiment made forty miles in the first two hours. Thereafter traffic became so congested that trucks moved bumper to bumper with long intervals of halting. Like most American units, our battalion was woefully under strength, inadequately clothed, and short on weapons and ammunition. Moreover, we were completely ignorant of the enemy's tactical dispositions. Nor could our senior commanders brief us, as they also had to develop the situation before they could issue the necessary orders to the combat battalions.

As battalion executive officer, my responsibility was to oversee the battalion's motor movement to Bastogne. As the convoy moved along, I brought up the rear of our section and made sure everyone kept the column closed and in the proper march order. When the convoy stopped, it was my custom to get out of the jeep and walk up and down the line. At one point in this long ride, Lieutenant Ben Stapelfeld, a replacement officer who had joined the battalion on December 10, approached me and asked if he should be doing anything. “Do you see what the men are doing?” I replied. “They are all sleeping. You do the same. When I need you, I'll let you know.” Later Stapelfeld claimed that he never forgot his initial introduction to me. What I most vividly remember about this motor movement was that the drivers turned on the lights at night. We were in a terrible hurry and living dangerously. To illustrate how confused we were and how little time the battalion
had had to prepare for movement, Colonel Strayer, who rushed back from England where he had been attending the wedding of Colonel Dobey of “The Rescue,” was still adorned in his class “A” uniform as we moved out for Bastogne.

As 2d Battalion approached Bastogne, we could hear the sounds of a very sharp firefight to the north. Little did we realize that we were heading straight into the biggest, bloodiest battle in the history of the U.S. Army. Later we discovered that the sounds emanated from the town of Noville, where Easy Company would conduct one of the most desperate fights in its storied history. As the battalion disembarked from the trucks on the outskirts of Bastogne, additional vehicles arrived loaded with ammunition. As we marched down the road, the drivers drove through the files on each side of the road, while other soldiers literally dumped ammunition over the sides. It did not make any difference what one's rank was; everybody was on his hands and knees scrambling for ammunition. The sounds of that firefight told us that we were going to need it—and real soon. I can still recall the words of Brad Freeman, a paratrooper from E Company, as we moved toward the fight, “Here we go again!”

Ask any veteran of the campaign in northwest Europe to identify his toughest single engagement, and you might expect him to say D-Day or some other day when his unit underwent a significant emotional experience. October 5 was such a day for Easy Company, 2d Battalion, 506th PIR. Ask the veteran to identify his toughest campaign and the choices are less diverse. For a paratrooper in the 101st Airborne Division, the answer is simple: the Battle of the Bulge. The thirty days between our arrival at Bastogne and the conclusion of the regiment's attack on Noville on January 17 marked the most intense period of combat for the 506th PIR in World War II. Bastogne was undoubtedly the toughest campaign in which the regiment participated during the entire war. After Bastogne, the war was all downhill. Rushed into the line northeast of Bastogne, the 506th conducted large-scale defensive and offensive operations daily for an entire month. Defensive operations characterized the battalion's subsequent activities until January 1,
1945, when Sink's paratroopers transitioned to a series of attacks, culminating in 2d Battalion's offensive to seize the town of Noville, approximately ten miles northeast of Bastogne.

Immediately upon our arrival at Bastogne on December 19, 2d Battalion deployed into the line south of Foy as a part of the ring defense of Bastogne. Foy was a small village six miles northeast of Bastogne. Foy occupied the position in a valley to the south of which a hill sloped up to a very strong position some 300 to 400 yards in the rear. Initially Colonel Sink intended to hold Foy, but with the enemy in possession of high ground on three sides, such a position was untenable. The high ground to the south, however, offered a position from which we could dominate the approaches to Foy. Noville was situated four miles beyond Foy. Like Foy, Noville was the scene of intense enemy activity. The 101st Airborne Division's other battalions were deployed to positions surrounding Bastogne. Initially 2d Battalion, 506th PIR, constituted the regimental reserve as 1st and 3d Battalions moved into line at Noville and Foy, respectively. The next day we replaced 3d Battalion on the front line. Our left was anchored to 3d Battalion beyond the Bastogne-Noville Road by interlocking fields of fire. Our right flank extended to the railroad station at Halt and was supposedly connected to the 501st PIR. As 2d Battalion moved forward in route column, we encountered a scene unlike anything we had seen in the war. The U.S. Army was in full retreat. As American soldiers streamed to the rear, their faces told us this was sheer panic. Soldiers had abandoned their weapons, their packs, their equipment, and their overcoats. Their sunken eyes reflected the “thousand-yard stare” of men frozen in fear. As we passed them, they hollered, “Run, run! They've got everything: tanks, planes, everything!” I am proud to say that I do not remember any of our men saying a single word in reply. We afforded them no recognition. We just kept walking toward the firefight that lay somewhere up ahead.

As we approached a slight shoulder in the road in front of Foy, the battalion deployed to clear the woods on the right side of the road.
Somebody else had gone through the woods before we arrived and had fought a terrific battle. This section of the woods was literally covered with dead and dying men, German and American alike. Our men cleaned out a few pockets of enemy resistance and we were then ordered to establish a line of defense. We set up our forward positions just inside the woods, overlooking the plain southeast of Foy. The soldiers immediately prepared their foxholes and attempted to stay warm and catch a few hours sleep. I established battalion headquarters approximately seventy-five yards from the forward outposts. It is difficult to comprehend the confusion that characterized our first night at Bastogne. No one seemed to know where our boundaries lay, nor did anyone understand our precise mission. Since Colonel Strayer remained at regimental headquarters, I ordered Captain Nixon to locate Colonel Sink's command post and to coordinate with Major Hester, the regimental operations officer, to ensure we had our orders correct. Over the next few weeks, Nixon made many trips back to regiment to keep us informed and to ensure we understood our orders and our boundaries with adjacent units. This system worked well and kept 2d Battalion out of a lot of trouble. Nix's greatest contribution to the successful defense of Bastogne was serving as a liaison between battalion and regimental headquarters. No man contributed more to keeping the regiment together during the ensuing battle. Nixon performed exceeding well in interpreting regimental orders and coordinating operational support while I positioned myself close to the forward edge of the battle area.

To give you an idea how dedicated Nixon was to the 506th PIR, at Bastogne he had his name drawn from a hat in a lottery that would have given him a thirty-day leave to the United States. Nix refused the offer, saying he wanted to stay with the outfit on the line. How do you explain that kind of dedication? Such devotion is never discussed by the men, but it is never forgotten. At the time, the 506th PIR was very short of men and officers, especially good, proven officers.

An incident that occurred the following morning demonstrates the mass confusion that existed during those initial days at Bastogne. A
heavy mist or fog from the night before hung over the woods and fields at dawn on the second day. I was standing in a field at the edge of the woods to the rear of the battalion command post. All was quiet and peaceful when suddenly to my left out of the woods walked a German soldier in his long winter overcoat. He didn't carry a rifle or a pack, and he continued walking slowly toward the middle of the field. A couple of troopers next to me instinctively brought their rifles to their shoulders, but I signaled them to hold their fire. We watched in dismay as the soldier stopped, removed his overcoat, pulled down his pants, and relieved himself. After he finished, I hollered to him in my best German,
Kommen sie hier!
The soldier did as he was told and was immediately captured. All the poor fellow had in his pockets were a few pictures, trinkets, and the butt end of a loaf of stale black bread. To the best of my knowledge, he was the last German soldier to pass through our lines at Bastogne. Think of that: Here was a German soldier, who in the light of early dawn, got turned around in the woods, walked through our lines, past the company CP, and ended up behind the battalion command post. Nobody else penetrated our lines, but this kid just walked through it. That sure was some line of defense we had that first night! Now, think of the problem this lone soldier created for the poor German's first sergeant. How did he carry this guy on his morning report?

For the next several days, we sent out reconnaissance and combat patrols. The Germans did the same. Life on the front line was horrific. The winter of 1944–1945 was the coldest in thirty years. Until the weather permitted aerial resupply, our men lacked proper equipment, winter clothing, and enough ammunition to hold the line. American artillery ammunition was especially in short supply. Our division placed an artillery piece on our left flank beside the Bastogne-Noville Road. We were told that the gunners were down to three rounds, and that those last rounds would be used for anti-tank purposes in case of an armored attack. Nor did we receive much tactical air support due to the inclement weather that limited the visibility of the pilots. When we did
receive air support, it was just as likely to fall within our lines as the enemy's. Not until December 23 did the first clear weather arrive and only then could the air force provide any tactical support. Until then, we were basically on our own. Being surrounded was nothing new for the 506th. At times we were outnumbered and surrounded on D-Day, outside Carentan, and at Eindhoven. At least in Bastogne we had the advantage of conducting an active defense. During the next three weeks we inflicted far more casualties than we incurred during the short period when we transitioned to the offensive at the end of the campaign. Had the enemy been able to organize their attacks and had their ranks been composed of seasoned veterans, they might have been able to penetrate our lines. Fortunately the Germans shifted their efforts to another part of the line during our first weeks at Bastogne.

Additional problems complicated our defense. Maintaining contact with the 501st PIR on our right flank remained a running problem. Sometimes we found their outposts; other times we failed to locate their forward positions. It appeared to me that our right flank was “in the air” and subject to envelopment if the enemy decided to attack our exposed flank. It was tough relying on another unit, even if they were paratroopers, to protect the right of our defensive line.

Sickness and trench foot remained recurring problems that reduced our rank and file. Fully one-third of our nonbattle casualties resulted from trench foot and frostbite. Some troopers attempted to remedy the situation by wrapping their feet with burlap sacks, but that merely exacerbated the problem. Trench foot results from extreme moisture and cold, which adversely affects the body's circulation. The use of burlap only increased the moisture surrounding the foot, causing the skin to become so tender that it was impossible for soldiers to lace their boots. Tech/5 Eugene Roe, one of Easy Company's medics, remembered the multiple cases of frostbite for the remainder of his life. The situation was so bad that Roe often took the morphine ampoules that every soldier carried and transferred the vials from dead soldiers to those who still manned the foxholes. Additionally, virtually every trooper suffered
from some form of respiratory ailment, such as the soldier in 3d Battalion across the Bastogne-Noville Road from us. From a distance of about 150 yards, we could hear that poor fellow cough throughout the night. He had was giving away our position. After several nights, his coughing stopped. He had either died or his squad leader sent him back to Bastogne.

Getting hot chow to the men presented me with a wide array of challenges. It seems everybody can remember exactly what he ate for Christmas dinner while in the army. I cannot. The only memory I have about food was the night we had bean soup. In the field, officers are the last men to go through the chow line. Naturally, all the enlisted men think this is one of the best rules in the officer manual. Chowhounds can finish off a canteen cup of beans in quick order, and in the dark on Christmas night they easily slipped back into line for a second cup. I made a tactical error in that I allowed several soldiers to return to the chow line for seconds before going through the line myself. That night I was the last man to get to the can of beans—I received about a half-canteen cup of bean soup. My entire meal consisted of five white beans and a cup of cold broth. I guess that is why I remember the bean soup, and I suppose that's why I've been trying to make up for that skimpy meal every Christmas since then.

Life on the front line defied description. The weather was bitterly cold and the ground was frozen solid. Digging foxholes was a job every trooper despised, but it was a necessary chore. Unfortunately, our motor movement to Bastogne had been so hurried that many soldiers lacked entrenching tools to dig textbook fighting positions. And the temperature was horribly cold. Cold is cold. You live in a foxhole. Your feet are wet and you're wiggling your toes to keep them from freezing. It is difficult to concentrate on preparing textbook fighting positions. As I walked the line, I observed the lousy positions the men had constructed. These positions were accompanied by equally lousy fields of fire. But what could I do? It was impossible to push the line forward and we could not drop back to improve the situation. Improving the
foxholes with overhead cover was another matter. We did not have very good axes to cut trees of sufficient size for protection. Second Lieutenant Ed Thomas, a replacement officer who joined us in Holland, devised his own solution. Ed possessed a devil-may-care smile and a sense of humor different than most officers. He also liked to put on a show to demonstrate his toughness. His solution to the lack of overhead cover was that each night he placed two or three German “stiffs” over the top of his foxhole.

As the weather further deteriorated, physical exhaustion combined with mental fatigue to produce an unusually high number of casualties now classified as combat exhaustion or battle fatigue. In Normandy I had witnessed lots of stress; some in Holland; but much more at Bastogne due to the cold, lack of sleep, and constant artillery bombardment. I'm not sure that anybody who lived through Bastogne hasn't carried with him, in some hidden ways, the scars of fatigue. Perhaps, that is a factor that keeps 101st paratroopers bonded so unusually close. In virtually every case, the men had been on the front line for extended periods since D-Day. They were now completely exhausted. They had no hot food, little sleep, no rest, constant tension, and the pressure of combat. The worst time was night, when temperatures plummeted and fog covered the battlefield until mid to late morning. The uncertainly of what lay just yards ahead in the next tree line was sufficient to break ordinary men. Not surprisingly, the men became physically exhausted.

Physical exhaustion leads to mental exhaustion, which in turn, causes men to lose discipline. Loss of self-discipline then produces combat fatigue. Self-discipline keeps a soldier doing his job. Without it, he loses his pride and he loses the importance of self-respect in the eyes of his fellow soldiers. It is pride that keeps a soldier going and keeps him in the fight. This is what I feared I would lose—the loss of will to measure up to my men. After seeing others break down, you wondered who was next and you started taking a hard look at yourself. I often wondered why I didn't break under the strain of combat. One factor
undoubtedly lay in the fact that my battalion headquarters lay seventy-five yards behind the forward foxholes. No longer was I under enemy observation. Consequently, I was able to concentrate on my duties without fear of enemy small-arms fire. Another factor was undoubtedly my physical conditioning. I don't think there was a man in that battalion who was in better physical shape than I was. My responsibility to ensure the safety of the soldiers also hardened me to cope with the daily stress of combat.