From
the very start there was enemy mortar and artillery fire . . . . |
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Immediately thereafter Company A began its crossing. The assault boats were filled each with twelve to sixteen men. Midstream the boats drew fire from the nazi pillboxes on the hill of the German shore. The boat behind one in which rode Pvt Harry Goedde sank under a direct hit, its occupants swept downstream. His own boat started to drift toward the very spot where a nazi machine gun was spitting fire from the bank. The men tried frantically to restrain their course by grabbing for rushes along the water's edge but swamped the gunwales. Along with his companions, Goedde shed his equipment and plunged into the icy water. Several were immediately carried away by the current. A medic called for help and Goedde, a confident swimmer, took him in tow until they both made shore. Meanwhile, on the Luxembourg side a building had been set afire by a German shell. Wet and shivering, from under the protection of weeds Goedde watched the warm fire. In its glare he could see the assault boats coming across and the Germans opening up on them. A shell threw up a sheet of water, a boat lurched crazily, and the men spilled into the freezing, racing river. He could see their heads bobbing and arms flailing. Then they were carried out of the radius of light and he could see them no more . . . . . |
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From the very start there was enemy mortar and artillery fire, but it was not yet adjusted on the crossing site. By the time Company B was midway from shore the enemy had its flares up and was sending in small arms fire. Some boats were damaged; some were swept downriver; others capsized. Landing troops were scattered all along the enemy bank, so that reorganization in the dark became a major problem. There were casualties; some men had failed to get across; some never gained contact after completing the crossing. When the companies regrouped, Company A had a fighting strength of fifty-six enlisted men and three officers; Company B, fifty-two enlisted men and two officers. S/Sgt Paul C. Bliss and Pfc Daniel F. Meyer, separated from their unit, stealthily advanced through the clutching, scratching barbed wire entanglements and began to climb up the almost perpendicular hillside. Struggling in the glue-like, ankle-deep mud, they accidentally stumbled on a cave where they decided to take refuge for the night. For the better part of the following day, however, enemy fire kept them holed up while they hugged their rifles and one lone hand grenade, impatiently waiting for a lull in the blasting. All at once they stiffened with expectation. Someone was creeping towards them. The strangers turned out to be two Yanks who, after escaping from a very brief nazi captivity, also had sought the cave as a temporary shelter. "When we left the cave," Sgt Bliss said, "we discovered we were holed up on top of what later turned out to be a seven-room pillbox full of Jerries." At 0130 the big guns came into the picture. The 901st FA Battalion, was in direct support of the 417th Infantry. Its 105 MM's alone fired 2,214 rounds into nazi positions during the battle. All of Brig Gen Henry C. Evans' artillery backed up the crossing. Reinforcing the 901st were the 302d FA Battalion and the 355th FA Battalion, both laying down preparatory fire from 0130 to 0200; and the 364th FA Battalion, whose 155 MM howitzers slammed the enemy fortifications from 0130 to 0400 during the same preparation for attack. Supplementing Division Artillery fire for the operation were the 273d FA Battalion's 155's and the 243d FA Battalion's eight-inch guns, both Corps Artillery Battalions. Once on enemy soil, Companies A and B passed through an intense concentration of minefields along the valley floor without a casualty. Angling to the left, Company B proceeded to reduce pillboxes along the face of the escarpment. Company A moved forward on the right. Mortar and artillery fire splattered deadly steel fragments all about them, but both companies concentrated on finding trails which would lead them around the heavily mined draw entrance as well as to the higher terrain. By 1000 on the 7th, they were well dug-in on the high ground southeast of Ernzen. The crossing site, meanwhile, had become the uncomfortable reception center for all the hot lead in the community. Assault boats were punctured, floundered, or forced by enemy fire power to remain idle where they had beached. Under withering machine gun fire, the rifle platoons of Company C crossed in the few boats they could salvage. At this point, with unfavorable winds preventing successful smoke screening of the assault, and with daylight enhancing the effectiveness of the enemy's by now alert artillery, the crossing operation was temporarily suspended. |
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The boat of Pvt Charles L. Urich made it safely to the German shore. He was helping to unload equipment when an 88 MM shell landed nearby. Men fell, their faces contorted in surprise and pain, their limbs shattered by the rain of splintering steel. Urich's rifle was torn from his grasp by the concussion. Dazed, he headed for the cover of nearby woods, but dropped to the ground as a machine gun spit fire in his direction. "I couldn't see anyone else from my outfit. I felt all alone and bad time to get scared for the first time. It seemed like I was the only Yank in Germany and the whole Wehrmacht was zeroing in on me." The senior non-com of the heavy weapons platoon had been wounded in the river crossing. S/Sgt John Shepherd, next in command, pointed toward the crest of the bill. It was his first "big-time" assignment but he knew the situation thoroughly. "We've got to protect the battalion left flank. Let's move." Everyone was tense. The men wanted to ease things a bit for their new leader. A doughboy wisecracked: "Hell, Sarge, you mean right up there with all those mean old krauts?" Up they went. Sgt Shepherd had real pride in his voice when he reported later: "The men held their own against Jerry counterattacks and protected the battalion left flank for five days." |
Antiaircraft
crews kept a sharp watch on the clouds above . . . |
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Meanwhile a second drama of profound importance to the success of the entire operation was being unfolded along the south bank of the Sauer. During the first night of the assault, the 160th Engineer Battalion had made three attempts to cable the river preparatory to installing a footbridge vitally needed for reinforcements and supplies. The sweeping current severed the first two cables. Enemy machine gun fire sank the boat carrying the third cable. Ingenuity then dictating that construction proceed without the use of a cable, the bridge was built on the near side of the stream and floated out on the current to a position where it could be secured on the far shore. The span was short-lived, however. The river current rent the bridge and left it a mass of useless wreckage. At 1555 on the 7th, the Germans counterattacked Companies A and B with three tanks and an infantry force. Fourteen of the enemy were killed and the attack repulsed without any loss of ground. "Pfc Lyle Corcoran was the only bazooka man with us at the time," recalled Sgt Charles Smith. "When the lead tank turned sideways about twenty yards from us, he let it have two blasts. Fire broke out and the tank went back down the road. I think the men inside burned to death." S/Sgt Guida A. Fenice said the second tank continued to advance. "I saw it run over one of our men in a foxhole. There were about seven German soldiers riding on the outside and I saw a buddy of mine running alongside the tank, firing at them with a pistol. They shot him down so I grabbed his gun and continued to fire." Then the tank mired and the mounted krauts scattered for their lives. Before the crew could clamber out of the iron monster's belly, Sgt Smith and Pfc Donald E. Hall, dashing forward from their points of cover, had jumped aboard and ignited the interior with grenades thrown down the open turret. The third tank retreated. |
