Beyond Band of Brothers (21 page)

Now that the encirclement of Bastogne had been broken, 2d Battalion expected to return to Mourmelon. It didn't take too long before Allied headquarters dissuaded us of that notion. The Screaming Eagles would remain on the line and commence offensive operations at the first opportunity. A major component of the Allied attack would be the 101st Airborne Division's push toward Foy and Noville. The division's attack would be coordinated with a major offensive on the northern edge of the Bulge spearheaded by Montgomery's 21st Army Group.

December 31 was relatively quiet, but at 0001 on January 1, both sides welcomed the new year with artillery and mortar fire. New Year's Day brought the largest German air attack to date. Several hundred planes took part. It was in this attack that Joe Toye incurred his third wound. That same day, 2d Battalion, 506th PIR, received orders to attack and clear the Bois Jacques, the forested area that had served as home to Easy Company for the previous twelve days. Beyond the woods lay Foy, and beyond Foy lay the high ground in front of Noville. 2d Battalion attacked as part of a regimental advance on January 2 at 0930. Deep snow and thick woods impeded our advance and contact between the platoons and company was temporarily lost. Noncommissioned officers rapidly reestablished contact and the advance continued. The battalion encountered little resistance until we reached a line approximately 200 yards from the edge of the woods. Initial resistance was strong, but of short duration. By 1530 hours, 2d Battalion seized its objective. On January 3 we received orders to extend our front to cover 1st Battalion's sector because 1st Battalion reverted to Division reserve. That day it began to snow, and it snowed every day for the next week. Simultaneously, enemy artillery and mortar fire was on the upswing.

It is difficult to describe the effects of an artillery bombardment to someone who has not experienced combat. If you live through it, you will never forget it, nor will you ever be the same. Artillery doesn't only
kill; it maims and tears the body apart, sending limbs in every direction. “Popeye” Wynn remembered that “we went through a couple of shellings that were earth-shattering.” When a soldier is subjected to a concentrated bombardment, he often finds himself bouncing on the ground from the force of the concussion. The big problem for a leader is keeping his wits and not freezing in fear—being able to think and, as soon as possible, talking to the men, and getting them to get up and think. The intensity of artillery fire over a protracted period has a dramatic impact on a unit in combat. Just as soon as the last round falls, as a leader you must begin circulating among the men. “Is everybody okay? Let's get up. Let's move. Keep your eyes open for an attack.” Get the men's attention. And moving among your men—the very fact that they see you and they are talking to you—they know that you are there and it makes all the difference in the world to realize that they are not in this by themselves. Even if a soldier remains fixed on his own feelings and his own fear, and if his leader is moving among the men, the soldier realizes that his leader is sharing the same hardship he himself is experiencing. Then and only then will the soldier be able to move. That is exactly what occurred on the afternoon of January 3 when Easy Company readjusted its lines and moved under the last vestiges of daylight to their new positions.

Just as the company entered the woods, the Germans commenced fire with a heavily concentrated artillery bombardment. Caught in a murderous fire, the men scurried to whatever cover they could find. Many jumped into shell holes and their former foxholes before the first artillery rounds exploded above the trees. Some of the men were lucky; others, like Sergeant Joe Toye, were not as fortunate. As squad leader, Toye refused to take refuge until he ensured all his men were accounted for. He never heard the round that hit him. Shrapnel tore off his right leg and embedded itself in his stomach and arms. Yelling for help, he lay there writhing in the snow. Bill Guarnere, his platoon sergeant and best friend, heard him. Like Toye, Guarnere's emotions were running extremely high. During a temporary lull in the shelling, Guarnere left
the safety of his own foxhole and began pulling Toye to safety. Just then the shelling resumed. A shell burst above Guarnere and mangled his leg. The war was over for both Toye and Guarnere. Don Malarkey and Ed “Babe” Heffron helped pulled them off the line and assisted the medics in placing both in an ambulance. To this day, neither can talk about the experience.

As quickly as the bombardment started, it ended, but the damage was already severe. First Sergeant Lipton supervised the evacuation of the wounded and visited each trooper. No sooner than Lipton moved forward did Lieutenant Dike instruct him to take charge of the company while he (Dike) returned to headquarters. You can imagine the men's feeling when they watched their commander walk off the line. For a company commander to abandon his men in the middle of an engagement when his men had already endured a number of casualties was inexcusable. No sooner had Dike left than the company lost another officer. Looking at Toye's and Guarnere's mangled legs, Lieutenant Buck Compton finally collapsed under the strain of combat. Taking off his helmet, he ran his fingers through his hair, dropped his helmet, and then, like Dike, he walked off the line. George Luz attempted to stop him, but to no avail. After months of combat and after seeing two of his closest friends horribly wounded, Buck had had enough. Within the span of several minutes, 2d Platoon had lost its most experienced squad leader, its platoon sergeant, and its platoon leader. Sergeants Guarnere and Toye were Toccoa men around whom the remainder of the platoon had rallied. And Compton had seen action with the company from D-Day, through Normandy and Holland, and now at Bastogne. Dike, of course, could be easily replaced, but the loss of so many key leaders severely affected the morale of my old company.

Easy Company was at the breaking point. Few units could sustain the number of casualties that Easy Company had suffered on January 3, particularly among its senior leadership. Its ranks were now at less than 50 percent capacity. The rest of 2d Battalion's companies were
equally weak. Had 1st Sergeant Lipton and the other Toccoa veterans not stepped into the breach, Easy Company would have disintegrated. Lipton assumed command of the company in all but name, even though two other officers were present. Other noncommissioned officers filled in the gaps—men like Pat Christenson and Don Malarkey, who had been privates in Normandy, corporals in Holland, and now sergeants at Bastogne. They remained the backbone of Easy Company. Our line was now dangerously thin, but on January 4, the 501st PIR, replaced us on the front line. Second Battalion assumed responsibility for 506th Regimental reserve.

Another odd memory of that night occurs to me. After sitting there for a while, I felt as though the foxhole was getting smaller. Then I noticed the ice frosting on the sides of the wall. So, I just stiffened my shoulders and rubbed along the sides, clearing off the frost.

The battlefront remained relatively quiet for the next week. Second Battalion patrolled the snow-covered woods to our front continuously. January 8 brought an extremely heavy snowstorm. Another heavy German artillery bombardment on the 506th's positions on January 10 inflicted 126 casualties. Two days later, 2d Battalion attached one company to 3d Battalion for an assault to take Foy. I selected Easy Company to lead the attack. The night before the attack I sat in my foxhole, reading the
Infantry Manual on Attack
by candlelight. When I think of that—lugging an infantry manual to Bastogne—I should have taken a Hershey chocolate bar instead. I had that manual memorized, but this time that manual wasn't advanced enough for the situation for which I was preparing. It just seemed too elementary. As I studied the manual, Sergeant Lipton arrived and asked to discuss a highly sensitive matter with me. Lipton expressed his concern that Lieutenant Dike was not up to the task to lead the following day's assault. I listened intently, but I had little choice other than to acknowledge his concerns and to tell him that I would investigate the matter. I then decided that I would stand on the line of departure and observe the attack when it began the following morning.

At early dawn, I personally briefed Lieutenant Dike on the conduct of the attack. I then ordered 1st Lieutenant Frank Reis to place two sections of light machine guns on the edge of the woods facing Foy. The guns would provide covering fire as Easy Company moved through the snow across approximately 250 yards of open field to the outskirts of the village. Easy Company crossed the line of departure at 0900 and proceeded to cross the field. The covering fire worked to perfection, but each time the assistant gunner changed the belt, I held my breath through that brief lull of fire. The Germans fired only a few random rifle shots from an outpost on the west end of the village. It was tough going for the men through that snow in a skirmisher formation, but Dike maintained a good formation as the company moved at a decent pace. Then suddenly, Lieutenant Dike halted the company about seventy-five yards from the edge of Foy. Everybody hunkered down in the snow and stayed there for no apparent reason. I called Lieutenant Dike on the radio, but I received no response. The company was like a bunch of sitting ducks out there in the snow. Colonel Sink, who was observing the attack, turned and hollered, “What are you going to do, Winters?”

“I'm going!” I yelled and I grabbed my M-1 and moved out to take command of Easy Company in order to get them moving again. I had only taken a few steps when I decided that my job was to lead the battalion, not a company. I turned around and walked back and there was Lieutenant Ronald C. Speirs, a natural killer, standing in front of me.

“Speirs!” I said. “Take over that company and relieve Dike and take that attack on in.”

Why Speirs was standing next to me I had no idea. I just turned around and there he was. It was just a roll of the dice that he was standing there when I needed someone. I was glad it was Speirs. I respected him as a combat leader because he made good decisions in combat, though his decisions after the battle—off the line—were often flawed. On D-Day, Speirs and his men had disabled the fourth gun in the battery outside Brecourt Manor. Stories later circulated throughout 2d
Battalion that Speirs possessed a “killer's instinct” and that he had once shot one of his recalcitrant sergeants in Normandy on D+1. It was difficult to verify such a story, but the soldiers evidently believed it at face value. Naturally there was more to the story than initially met the eye. D Company had been fighting all night June 5–6, and all day on D-Day. The night of June 6 gave the men on outposts no more than two to three hours rest before starting the battle on June 7. D Company countermarched throughout the night as officers attempted to array the platoons in the proper alignment to cross the line of departure the following morning. The ensuing battle proved to be one of the most confused of the war. As the evening progressed, the tension of the upcoming battle, coupled with the fact that these men had been without rest since early morning on June 5, resulted in near exhaustion. A number of paratroopers and their leaders were actually sleepwalking and unable to comprehend orders. One observer noted that, “Officers and men had kept going too long and were now traveling on their nerve.”

In spite of what rumors prevailed concerning Lieutenant Speirs's actions, what actually occurred that evening was D Company received orders to halt its attack toward Ste. Come du Mont in order for regimental headquarters to coordinate a rolling barrage in support of the ground assault. Regimental artillery had designated fifteen targets to be shelled in the vicinity of Ste. Come du Mont. To initiate the attack, regimental artillery fire was adjusted back toward American lines, before moving forward again in increments of 100 yards every four minutes. Colonel Strayer directed D Company to follow this “rolling barrage” toward the objective. Lieutenant Speirs then passed the word down the line to his squad leaders to hold their current position until the artillery fire was coordinated. One of his sergeants ignored the orders. Speirs repeated the order and the sergeant again refused to obey. Spears then shot the sergeant between the eyes. In doing so, Speirs probably saved the lives of the rest of the squad. To his credit, Speirs immediately reported the incident to his company commander, Captain Jerre S. Gross. Gross was killed the next day during the continued assault on Ste.
Come du Mont, so the incident was not pursued. Certainly none of Speirs's soldiers said anything to higher headquarters. I think the platoon members exercised sound judgment—they might have been next. Secondly, if anybody had taken it upon himself to return Speirs's fire, he would have had to pay an unknown price. I credit the men with a good instinct for survival.

Other rumors centered on Speirs's alleged killing of six German prisoners of war. My personal contact with Lieutenant Speirs after D-Day was somewhat limited until I relinquished command of Easy Company. As battalion executive officer, I knew each of the battalion's officers and could analyze each leader's strengths and weaknesses. My own assessment was that Lieutenant Speirs was one of the finest combat officers in 2d Battalion. His men respected him, but they also feared him because Speirs had clearly established the fact that he was a killer. He worked hard to earn a reputation as a killer and he often killed for shock value. The senior leadership of the battalion and regiment must have heard the allegations surrounding Speirs, but in their desperation to keep qualified officers who were not afraid of combat, they chose either to ignore or not to investigate the charges. When I first heard the stories, I was speechless. What he did in Normandy was unbelievable, inexcusable. In today's army, Speirs would have been court-martialed and charged with atrocities, but we desperately needed bodies, officers who led by example and were not afraid to engage the enemy. Speirs fit the bill.