In his reassessment of a tragic World War II battle, General Gavin concludes
that, for the Germans, holding the Huertgen Forest was Phase One of the Battle
of the Bulge. For the Americans, trying to occupy the forest was a ghastly
mistake.
The Battle of the Bulge came to an end in the closing days of January, 1945.
The combat divisions were immediately redeployed to resume the offensive into
Germany, and the 82nd Airborne, which I commanded, was ordered into the Huertgen
Forest, a densely wooded area astride the Siegfried Line, just inside the German
border. In the fall of 1944 there had been many grim stories in the Stars and
Stripes, the army newspaper, about the fighting in the Huertgen. We were not looking forward to the assignment.
In addition the forest was heavily fortified and highly
organized for defense. Although I had seen heavy pillbox fortifications in
Sicily, they were nothing compared with those in the Huertgen Forest. In the
Huertgen they were huge (frequently consisting of several rooms). They were
dark, and landscaped to blend with the trees—so well covered by leaves and pine
needles that they were hardly visible. I was startled when I first realized that
I was looking right at one only a short distance away and hadn't realized that
it was a pillbox. In, addition to the pillboxes, concertina barbed wire was
stretched across the forest floor. This, with trip wires, antipersonnel mines,
and antitank mines, reduced the fighting to its most primitive form: man against
man at grenade distance.
Having been preoccupied with the Battle of the Bulge, the Allies had paid
little attention to the Huertgen Forest for the past several months. I found a
road that a jeep could travel on, and went to the town of Vossenack on
reconnaissance without meeting any enemy. The Germans presumably had withdrawn
to the Roer River or very close to it. I left my jeep in the town and started
down the trail that crossed the Kall River valley. I was accompanied by the
Division G-3, Colonel John Norton, and Sergeant Walker Woods. It really was a
reconnaissance, since I did not know what the lay of the land would be, and
what, if any, enemy might still be there.
By an odd coincidence, an army photographer working in
the Huertgen Forest on November 18, 1944, first snapped
Private Benny Barrow of the 4th Infantry Division helping
a comrade up a steep bank (left, above), and later came across
Barrow, now wounded, being treated by medics. At right (below),
another casualty is carried back to an aide station.
Our orders for the following day were
to attack across the Kall River valley from Vossenack and seize the town of
Schmidt. By now most of the snow had melted and only small patches remained
under the trees. I walked down the trail, which was obviously impassable for a
jeep. It was a shambles of wrecked vehicles and abandoned tanks. The first tanks
that had attempted to go down the trail evidently had slid off and thrown their
tracks.
In some cases tanks had been pushed off the trail and toppled down the
gorge among the trees. Between where the trail began outside of Vossenack and
the bottom of the canyon there were four abandoned tank destroyers and five
disabled and abandoned tanks. In addition, all along the sides of the trail
there were many, many cadavers that had just emerged from the winter snow. Their
gangrenous, broken, and torn bodies were rigid and grotesque, some of them with
arms skyward, seemingly in supplication.
They
were wearing the red keystone of the 28th Infantry Division, the "Bloody
Bucket." It evidently had fought through there in the preceding fall, just
before the heavy snows. I continued down the trail for about a half a mile to
the bottom, where there was a tumbling mountain stream about six feet wide. A
stone bridge that once had crossed it had long since been demolished, and a few
planks were placed across the stone arches for the use of individual infantrymen.
Nearby were dozens more dead men.
Apparently an aid station had been established
near the creek and in the midst of the fighting it had been abandoned, many of
the men dying on their stretchers. About fifty yards off to the right, a hard
road appeared. Across it were six American antitank mines. On the near side of
the mines were three or four American soldiers who apparently had been laying
the mines and protecting them when they were killed. Beyond the American mines,
about ten feet away, were some German Teller mines, connected like beads on a
string. And on the other side of these were three or four German dead, a
dramatic example of what the fight ing must have been like in the Huertgen.
It
was savage, bitter, and at close quarters. I made my way up the far side of the
canyon. One had to be extremely careful because the trail had not been cleared
of mines. I assumed that the woods were infested with them and hence did not
even get near the edge of the trail. As we approached the top, all the debris
evinced a bitter struggle. There were more bodies, an antitank gun or two,
destroyed jeeps, and abandoned weapons. We emerged from the top of the trail
into a wide clearing. A few miles away we could see the small German town of Kommerscheidt.
So far, we had not been challenged by any Germans, but I knew
they were supposed to be in Kommerscheidt and in the town of Schmidt, beyond.
The sun was setting and I was anxious to get back to the other side of the
valley before darkness. As evening descended over the canyon, it was an eerie
scene, like something from a low level of Dante's Inferno. To add to the horror,
a plaintive human voice could be heard calling from the woods quite some
distance away.
We continued on down and up on the other side, reaching Vossenack
in the darkness. During the night, troops were moved up to the town, and I went
back down the trail with the leading battalion not long after daylight. I
remember vividly the battalion stopping for a short break. A young soldier, a
new replacement, was looking with horror at the dead. He began to turn pale,
then green, and he was obviously about to vomit.
I knew his state of mind: every
young soldier, upon first entering combat, is horrified by the sight of bodies
that have been abandoned. They always imagine themselves dead and neglected. I
talked to him, calmed him a bit, and assured him that our outfit never abandoned
its dead, that we always cared for and buried them.
Soon the battalion continued
down the trail and up on the other side. It attacked across the open land,
seized Kommerscheidt and then Schmidt. The fighting was moderate to heavy, and
after capturing Schmidt we continued to receive artillery fire. It seemed obvious to me that
the regiment could not be supplied across the Kall River canyon, certainly not
if the enemy interfered or if artillery fire covered the trail.
In addition, the
trail was impassable for vehicles. A catastrophe must have occurred there in the
fall of 1944. I could not understand why the bodies had not been removed and
buried. Neither the corps nor the army headquarters could have been aware of the
conditions in the canyon. Otherwise the corpses would have been interred and the
disabled tanks recovered.
As soon as I returned to the command post, I called
the chief of staff of V Corps and explained the situation to him, emphasizing
the need for an alternate supply route. There was a good one from Lammersdorf to
Schmidt and that was under V Corps. He listened to my story, then laughed and
asked, "Have you tried pack mules?" It made me furious. There is
nothing that angers a combat soldier more than a higher headquarters staff
officer belittling the problems of the combat infantryman. It is as old as
soldiering.
The following morning I went to Lammersdorf to meet the commander of V Corps and
the commander of the division whose headquarters was in that town. Obviously,
the attack on Schmidt should have been made straight down the ridge from
Lammersdorf. Lammersdorf and Schmidt are connected by a paved road, the terrain
was a mixture of woods and open farm land—good tank country—and it would
have been a much simpler tactical undertaking than crossing the Kall River.
The
question in my mind was how in the world did they ever get involved in attacking
across the Kall River valley in the first place? Why not stick to the high
ground, bypassing the Germans in the valley, and then go on to the Roer River? I
raised this question with a corps staff officer present, but he brushed it
aside. Apparently that was a "no-no" question, not to be talked about. In the
meantime I noticed that the corps commander and the commander of a new division
were bent over a map.
The corps commander occasionally drew a short line with
a blue grease pencil. The line represented an infantry battalion, and he was
suggesting to the division commander a tactical scheme by moving battalions
about. I realized how remote they were from the reality of what it was like up
where the battalions were. The thought crossed my mind that the disaster that
had befallen the 28th Division may have been related to the lack of
understanding in higher headquarters of what the actual situation in the Kall
River valley was. That turned out to be true.
Optimism was widespread in the Allied high command in Europe in the late
summer of '44. As the summer waned, the world was treated to the spectacle of
the German 7th Army and the 5th Panzer Army fleeing from the battlefields of
Normandy. Handcarts, horses and wagons, bicycles, baby carriages, anything that
they could lay their hands on were used to help in their escape. Eisenhower's
staff seemed convinced that the war was over.
His chief of staff, Lieutenant General Bedell Smith,
announced to the press in early September, "Militarily the war is over." Most
astounding, post exchange officers sent orders back to the States to stop all
Christmas packages. The war would be over by Christmas. And the optimism went
beyond the generals. Meeting with President Roosevelt at Quebec on September
10,1944, Winston Churchill remarked, "Victory is everywhere." And later he
added, "I would not be surprised, now that the American 3rd Army is standing on
the border of Germany, if the enemy surrendered within weeks."
But the very success of Eisenhower's armies contained the seeds of trouble. By
September he had outrun his supplies. Trucks bringing gasoline and ammunition to
George Patton's army, for example, had to travel 360 miles back to the Normandy
beaches. And by the end of August, 90 to 95 per cent of the supplies for
Eisenhower's armies lay in depots near the beaches.
The northernmost of the U.S. armies was the 1st U.S. Army, commanded by
Lieutenant General Courtney Hodges. I had known General Hodges when he was Chief
of Staff of the Philippine Division from 1936 to 1938. He was an intelligent,
thoughtful, studious sort of officer. Unlike the other U.S. Army commanders, he
was not a West Pointer. He attended the military academy but dropped out during
his plebe year, enlisted, and earned his commission from the ranks. He was a
veteran of World War I and knew his trade well; some thought him rather
colorless—certainly he was when compared with Patton—but those who knew him
had great respect for the consideration he showed for his troops; he was always
careful not to waste his men and was cautious in his tactical deployments.
The 1st U.S. Army was a veteran command. It had made
the Normandy assault and promptly accomplished its first mission, capturing
Cherbourg. Thereafter, it endured very heavy fighting in the Normandy hedgerows
for almost two months. In July, Patton's 3rd Army came ashore and was committed
to battle on the right of the 1st. It rampaged through Brittany and directly
contributed to the defeat and rout of the Germans in mid-August. Both the 1st
and 3rd armies pursued the enemy vigorously, and by mid-September they were up
to the German frontier.
The U.S. 1st Army was still in pursuit, with all three
of its corps in line across a front of more than 120 miles—far too widespread to
engage in heavy combat—as they considered themselves to be still in pursuit of a
beaten enemy. Furthermore, during the long trek across France, maintenance of
vehicles, especially tanks, had been badly neglected. For example, the 3rd
Armored Division had only 75 serviceable tanks out of an allotment of 232. Then,
too, some combat divisions had dropped their artillery far behind in order to
use the artillery tow trucks to carry infantry.
As they neared the German frontier, there was much speculation about the
Siegfried Line. Rumor had it that the pillboxes and fortifications were
unmanned. But General Hodges anticipated heavy fighting and he thought it best
to delay his advance for about two days to permit his forces to regroup. The
corps commanders were impatient, however, particularly Major General Joe
Collins, commander of the VII Corps; they wanted to get on with the attack while
they had momentum and before the Siegfried Line could be manned. Collins
reasoned that if he penetrated the line, so much to the good, but if unexpected
resistance occurred, he still would not have lost anything. However, the Germans
were far from defeated. Indeed, they were preparing a major counteroffensive.
On September 5, 1944, Hitler called back Field Marshal Gerd von Rundstedt. He
had dismissed him earlier, in July, after von Rundstedt, upon being queried by the German high command on what they
should do, replied, "End the war, you fools." Now he was forgiven in
the hour of need. He was respected throughout the German army and was the one
soldier who could rally the Wehrmacht. His problems were many, but he went about
solving them in a very businesslike manner.
To begin with, he managed to bring
General Gustav von Zangen's 15th Army from Calais by barge and boat to positions
in Holland to confront the Allies. Systematically, efforts were made to round up
and reassign individuals and small groups of German soldiers that had made their
way back from the battlefields of France. Fortunately for von Rundstedt, the
high-command structure down to and including some of the combat divisions was
generally intact.
While von Rundstedt was assembling troops, Hitler took
additional steps to bolster the defenses. About a hundred "fortress"
infantry battalions were hastily re-equipped and hurried to the front. These had
been used in rear areas and they were made up mostly of under trained and overage
individuals. They were to give a good account of themselves in manning the
Siegfried Line.
While these moves were under way, Hitler made one of his intuitive decisions.
On Saturday, September 16,1944, he had a conference in his East Prussian
headquarters, the Wolf's Lair. Field Marshal Jodl was ticking off the depressing
statistics: shortages of ammunition, shortages of tanks, German troops
withdrawing from southern France.
Suddenly, Hitler interrupted, "I have just made a
momentous decision. I shall go over to the counterattack, that is to say,"
pointing to the map unrolled on the desk before him, "here, out of the Ardennes,
with the objective—Antwerp." The counterattack was scheduled for a launching
within two months, although, as it finally developed, it took three months. To
deny the Allies the type of information that they had obtained by radio
intercept in the past, Hitler insisted that all communications would be by wire,
written messages, or staff visits. There would be no radio communications among
the higher formations. Thus he undertook to organize a counteroffensive that
would involve three field armies, consisting of twenty-one divisions, including
eight Panzer divisions.
Opposing the U.S. 1st Army was the German 7th Army commanded by General der
Panzertruppen Eric Brandenberger. His mission, once Hitler's decision had been
made, was to hold off the U.S. 1st Army until the counteroffensive could be
launched. At this point another factor entered into the German thinking. Behind
the Siegfried Line, in the Huertgen Forest area, were a series of major dams
that controlled the flow of water into the Roer River. By opening these dams,
General Brandenberger could effectively block the U.S. 1st Army from crossing
the Roer and thus making its way to the Rhine at Cologne.
So, Brandenberger's
mission was to protect the dams, using the Siegfried Line and all the odd-lot
troop formations that he could find, as well as one or two battle-experienced
formations. And finally, the German positions were to be held at all costs to
permit the build-up of a great counteroffensive, which Hitler was convinced
would split the Allies and bring about a petition for peace. Thus the stage was
set for the battle of the Huertgen Forest.
The Huertgen," the GI's called it. To the soldiers the word "Huertgen"
was synonymous with getting hurf. It was to be known as one of the most costly
battles in our history. Yet, when the fighting in the Huertgen Forest began, no
one, neither American nor German, had a clear idea of how intense and costly it
would be. The Americans wanted to seize the eastern edge of the forest and in so
doing protect the right flank of the U.S. 1st Army, which was moving on to
Cologne. But neither side could guess the other's objective and both sides were
surprised by the intensity and heavy cost of the fighting that followed.
The Huertgen Forest is part of a heavily wooded area of about fifty square
miles. It begins about five miles southeast of the city of Aachen. As the
official U.S. Army History described it: "Looking east from the little
German border villages southeast of Aachen, the Huertgen forest is a seemingly
impenetrable mass, a vast undulating blackish-green ocean stretching as far as
the eye can see. Upon entering the forest, you want to drop things behind to
mark your path, as Hansel and Gretel did with their bread crumbs."
After traversing the forest for three or four miles, one came upon open
farming country on higher ground. Two ridges thrust like fingers toward the
distant Roer River. On the north, extending to the northeast for three miles,
was the ridge containing the towns of Huertgen, Kleinhau, and Grosshau. To the
south was a longer ridge, extending from the town of Lammersdorf toward Schmidt,
the town which overlooked the principal dam on the Roer River. Between these
cleared ridge lines lay the deep Kall River gorge.
The famed Siegfried Line, or West Wall, consisted of two lines of
fortifications, running parallel and several miles apart, directly through the
Huertgen Forest. Each line had to be taken in turn, and each contained a large
number of pillboxes with interlocking fields of fire, bunkers, and command
posts.
As General Hodges prepared plans for his move across the Roer River and on to
Cologne on the Rhine, he looked with some concern at the Huertgen Forest.
General Hodges and General Collins were both veterans of World War I. They
recalled the heavy fighting in the Argonne Forest, and they knew that the
Huertgen could provide cover for a German force that might seriously threaten
their right flank. So far, they had not given any thought to the dams.
They
believed, however, that their present widespread deployments could sweep through
the forest without too much delay, and in so doing seize the high ground
overlooking the Roer. The veteran 9th Division was chosen for the task. Its 38th
Infantry Regiment was given the principal mission. It crossed the German border
and entered the village of Lammersdorf on September 14.
It was protected by the 47th Infantry Regiment, which was about seven miles to
the north, and the 60th Infantry Regiment, also of the 9th Division, about five
miles to the south. This deployment of the three regiments was far too
widespread to break through serious resistance. The 39th learned quickly that
the Germans were manning the pillboxes of the Siegfried Line. It was the
toughest defense situation that they had encountered since Normandy.
After three days of costly, bitter fighting, they had advanced only about a mile and a half. The Germans continued
gradually to build up their defenses, and the battle raged back and forth
through the pillbox area. It was a special kind of warfare for which our troops
were not well trained or equipped. As it turned out, the 9th Division was the
first of a steady procession of American units which in subsequent weeks would
learn to equate the Huertgen with gloom, misery, wounds, and death. General
Collins decided to stop the attack and to regroup his forces. The forest
remained unconquered.
Early in October the decision was made to attack once again, using the same 9th
Infantry Division. At last, the higher staffs were beginning to attach some
importance to the dams. Some prisoners told them of the German plans for the
dams and that arrangements had been made to ring church bells in the villages
downstream when the flooding began. The 9th Infantry Division launched its
attack on October 6 with Schmidt, which overlooked the Schwammenauel Dam, as its
objective.
Again the German resistance stiffened. The
Infantry found themselves widely dispersed, and their losses were appalling.
Vehicles and tanks bogged down in the forest. The dense tree cover denied them
support from their own air force. German artillery projectiles burst in the
tops of the trees, hurling shell fragments earthward. Replacements were lost
by the hundreds before they could even join their outfits.
When they did arrive, they found that the problem
of the tree bursts made it necessary for them to cover their foxholes with
logs. When caught in the open, the soldiers learned that the safest defense
was to stand or to crouch rather than to lie flat on the forest floor. By late
October the Huertgen had taken its toll. The 9th Division had gained no more
than three thousand yards, which they paid for in one and a half casualties
per yard. The division had lost about forty-five hundred men, and according to
the official report, "The real winner appeared to be the vast, undulating,
blackish-green sea that virtually negated American superiority in air,
artillery, and armor to reduce warfare to its lowest common denominator." The
forest refused to yield, and now there were the dams.
Toward the end of October General Hodges set the date of November 5 for the
main attack that would take his 1st Army across the Roer and on to the Rhine.
The principal effort was to be given to Joe Collins' VII Corps. His mission was
to clear the Huertgen Forest and seize the high ground to the east. The dams
were transferred to General Gerow's V Corps on Collins' right.
Hodges was
anxious that the V Corps get started as soon as possible and he set the date of
November first. Its mission was to clear the Vossenack-Schmidt-Lammersdorf
triangle down to the headwaters of the Roer River, so as to protect the right
flank of the 1st Army. To increase the V Corps' strength, it was given the 28th
Division and a combat command of the 5th Armored Division.
The 28th was the
Pennsylvania National Guard Division. It had made the Normandy assault and was
fresh and experienced in every respect and ready for its difficult mission. By
now, the Huertgen was recognized as a tough nut to crack. Considerable pressure
was put on the 28th Division commander, Major General Norman D. Cota. His
principal mission was to seize Vossenack, cross the Kall River gorge, seize
Kommerscheidt, and then Schmidt, enabling the V Corps to command a position
close to and overlooking the Schwammenauel Dam.
The 112th Infantry Regiment (of
the 28th Division), commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Carl L. Peterson, was
assigned the central position. It was supported on its left by the 109th
Infantry, which moved toward the village of Huertgen, and on the right by the
110th Infantry, which moved to the south in the direction of the village of Raffelsbrand. It should be noted that the three regiments diverged from the
beginning and, in fact, uncovered the flanks of the middle regiment, the 112th
Infantry, which had a difficult mission at best and one that could have been
catastrophic if its flanks were attacked in the Kail River gorge. The division
was opposed by the German 275th Division, which had proved its mettle against
the 9th Division earlier.
By this time heavy autumn rains and dense fogs and mist plagued the
attackers. Soon there would be snow. The infantry could expect little air
support. The attack on Schmidt was launched on November second in characteristically
bad weather. Despite poor conditions, however, both V Corps and VII Corps
supported the forthcoming attack with artillery barrages. By H-hour the 28th
Division artillery had fired 7,313 rounds. The high command had at last learned
respect for the German defenses and they were taking no chances.
The attack went
off on schedule and the second battalion of the 112th Infantry captured Vossenack by early afternoon and soon were digging foxholes on the forward slopes overlooking the forested valleys below. The two remaining
battalions of the 112th Infantry moved through Vossenack down the trail across
the Kall River gorge, virtually unopposed, until they were all the way across
the Kall and crossing the open farm country in sight of Kommerscheidt.
Kommerscheidt and Schmidt, in turn, were seized with little opposition. There
was elation in the 28th Division Headquarters, and the division commander,
General Cota, was to say later that he felt like "a little Napoleon."
But the elation was short-lived. Actually, the Germans were in the process of
replacing the forces that had been defending Schmidt. The following day the Germans counterattacked with armor and drove the
defenders from their water-filled, icy foxholes around Schmidt back on
Kommerscheidt, and later pushed the survivors of Kommerscheidt to the edge of
the Kall River gorge.
In addition, they attacked all along the gorge, thus
cutting off the remnants of the two attacking battalions that had just been
driven from Schmidt and Kommerscheidt. Repeated orders by the 28th Division to
recapture Schmidt were meaningless, as the survivors were incapable of mounting
an attack. The regimental commander was directed to report to division
headquarters.
Although he was physically exhausted and twice had been wounded by
artillery fire, he started down the trail of the Kail River gorge. He was in bad
physical shape when the engineers on the trail found him, put him in a jeep, and
started him back. He must have been a sight to see when he walked in on General
Cota. At the sight of him, Cota fainted. Before the engagement was through, the
28th Division suffered over six thousand casualties.
The 28th was followed in turn by the 4th, the 8th, and the 83rd infantry
divisions, and a combat command of the 5th Armored Division. Tragically, before
it was over, not only were the casualties frightful, but the real objective
turned out to be not the Huertgen Forest itself but the dams over the Roer River
on the far side of it.
Over twenty-four thousand Americans were killed, missing and captured, or
wounded in the fighting in the Huertgen and another nine thousand succumbed to
the wet and cold with trench foot and respiratory diseases, for a total cost of
thirty-three thousand men. In retrospect it was a battle that should not have
been fought. Once we were in it, the higher command did not seem to appreciate
the incredible conditions under which the infantrymen had to fight. Unlike other
battles in Europe up to that time, we sacrificed our ground mobility and our
tactical air support, and we chose to fight the Germans under conditions
entirely to their own advantage, in which they fought from strong fortifications
on ground they knew very well.
In an interview after the war, General Major
Rudolph Gersdorff, chief of staff of the German 7th Army, said, "The German
Command could not understand the reason for the strong American attacks in the
Huertgen forest... the fighting in the wooded area denied the American troops
the advantages offered them by their air and armored forces, the superiority of
which had been decisive in all the battles waged before, etc." But the
Huertgen was over and I think it fair to say that little was learned from it and
less understood.
From October until mid-December the Germans had fought hard to protect the
assembly of the armies that Hitler had earmarked for his great
counteroffensive—the Battle of the Bulge. The Germans had fought with skill
and courage and took heavy casualties. The Allies had no idea of the coming
counteroffensive, so one must judge the German defense as having been entirely
successful. On December 16, 1944, Hitler launched three field armies against the
Allied center, on a seventy-mile front. At once the Huertgen lost its importance
as all attention was focused on the Ardennes.
Military critics have argued about the battle of the Huertgen Forest ever
since World War II. Today, at the Command and General Staff College at Fort
Leavenworth, Kansas, it is presented by the faculty to each new incoming class
as a case history. Particular emphasis is placed upon the attack of the 28th
Infantry Division across the Kall River gorge, and on to Kommerscheidt and
Schmidt. They point out the disastrous consequences that can befall a command
when the generals do not know the environment in which the troops must fight. A
troublesome aspect of the Huertgen battle is that it was fought by experienced,
courageous battle leaders who made few other mistakes during the war in Europe.
So why did it happen?
In the first place there was the optimism that was so pervasive throughout all
echelons of the Allied forces in the late summer of 1944. It seemed clear that
the Germans were beaten, badly beaten. Then there was the unbelievably poor
intelligence of the Allied high command. Up to the fall of 1944 the Allies
depended heavily upon ULTRA SECRET, that priceless information that came to them
from radio intercepts of German communications to and from tactical
headquarters.
When the intercepts were suddenly brought to a stop by Hitler's ban on all
radio communications, no one seems to have questioned what was going on. Hitler
therefore was able to assemble twenty-one combat divisions, including eight
Panzers, without the Allies knowing anything about it. In retrospect, this seems
unbelievable, but all three events were closely related—the unbridled optimism
of the high command, the discontinuance of the radio traffic of the German
formations, and their ability to organize a major counteroffensive. Thus, to the
Germans, the battle of the Huertgen Forest was Phase One of the Battle of the
Bulge.
That battle was Hitler's last gamble. The bitter, costly fighting by the
Germans in the Huertgen Forest in October and November of 1944 was essential to
their chance of success. But for us, Huertgen was one of the most costly, most
unproductive, and most ill-advised battles that our army has ever fought.
THE GRIMMEST THANKSGIVING
After reading an interview with General Gavin in a newspaper, a major who had
fought in the Huertgen Forest wrote the general the following letter:
December 26,1978
Dear General Gavin,
. . . I was S-3, 2nd. En. 121 Inf., 8th. Div., and my outfit was the only
one to secure the village of Huertgen, and hold on to it.
Your remark that the generals had no idea of what the men were up against
really hit home. It started out with all the making of a debacle. Someone seemed
to think this was a Ft. Benning exercise, instead of a penetration of a thickly
mined, well fortified, dense forest where you were lucky if you could see twenty
feet. Our introduction to this hell hole was to be dumped off our trucks, and
before the advance party could do a thing we were to make a "passage of
lines" through the holding troops and continue on to attack. It was a mess
that took days to straighten out!
To emphasize your point about not knowing what the men were up against I
would like to cite one incident that still haunts me. On Thanksgiving day we
were not in Huertgen, but still strung out in the dense forest outside the town.
Any slight activity brought down a rain of mortars and artillery, and I'm sure
you know the devastating effects of tree bursts. I was in the foreword C.P.
[command post] when I was informed the cooks would bring up canisters of a hot
turkey dinner and serve it to the men in the lines. I called the Bn. commander
and told him that in our present position this would be murder plain and
simple that as soon as the men got around the canisters Jerry would turn all
hell loose. I was told this was a Regimental order and I got permission to talk
to the Regimental commander. I was told this was a Division order and somehow or
other talked him into letting me talk to the Division commander. I tried to
explain the conditions, and requested a delay of a day or two until we could get
out of this position, but was told in no uncertain terms that the men would be
fed today!
Hindsight says I could have stalled off the dinner and I doubt that the
higher echelons would have known about it but I didn't. Granted that greater
control could have been used all down the line... but dangle hot turkey to men
in a cold, wet forest, that have had nothing but K rations, and it's not that
easy to keep them from bunching.
Jerry turned all hell loose! Branded in my mind is position after position
with men torn to shreds around busted up turkey canisters as many as ten in
one place.
For many, many years after the war I would go to one of my relations for
Thanksgiving dinner, and before I could touch a bite I would get up and go to
the back yard and cry like a baby. I passed up a helluva lot of turkey dinners.
Don't really know why I have told you this, but somehow it seems to have
helped....
Respectfully yours,
Wm. S. Freeman Jr.
Ex-Major, Inf.
In September 1944, three months after the invasion of Normandy, the Allied armies prepared to push the German forces back into their homeland. Just south of the city of Aachen, elements of the U.S. First Army began an advance through the imposing Huertgen Forest along the Belgian-German border in an attempt to reach the plain of Cologne, where armored divisions would have clear access to Berlin. Instead of retreating, as the Allied command anticipated, the German troops prepared an elaborate defense of Huertgen, resulting in a struggle where tanks, infantry, and artillery dueled at close range, and shell bursts among the treetops sent lethal splinters into the soldiers below. The battle for the forest ended abruptly in December, when a sudden German offensive through the Ardennes to the south forced the Allied armies to fall back, regroup, and start their attack again, this time culminating in the collapse of the Nazi regime in May 1945
