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Task Force Lovelady had gained momentum during two months
of whirling combat across France and Belgium. They had long since
won fame within the 3rd Armored Division and VII Corps. Their
daring exploits during the Breakthrough; their stubbornly courageous
stand on Hill 264; their brilliant role in closing the trap of
Falaise; their unprecedented sweep from the Seine to Mons, where
the climax to the relentless drive paid overwhelming dividends,
literally destroying the elements of the German army which were
supposed to retreat and man the Siegfried Line; the bitterly
contested forfeit by the enemy of their greatest industrial region
west of the Ruhr Valley, Liege. These events in themselves were
enough to justify to posterity the existence of Task Force Lovelady.
We were too tired, too dirty, too busy during those two months
to consider past accomplishments. Our interests, wishes, and
prayers lay in the path ahead. Each man knew in his heart that
his job was not finished, that there was no such thing as having
done one's share so long as there was life and breath in one's
body. We knew that Task Force Lovelady would go on and on until
the last German soldier laid down his arms or died.
The same unfaltering will and faith that carried us so many
miles toward victory, rode with us into the teeth of the Siegfried
Line.
Early in the morning of that memorable day, the 12th of September,
1944, reconnaissance in force set out to find a suitable route
across the border. Bogged down in muddy forest trails, another
group selected our path.
By noon we were on the way, most of us hardly realizing that
we would sleep that night in Germany.
At the bottom of a winding hill lay a railroad track and station,
beyond them, a village. On the western side was a farmhouse,
the red, yellow and black Belgian flag flying from an upstairs
window. On the eastern side, hastily improvised white flags of
surrender fluttered listlessly, resignedly, from the houses.
Then we knew that here was the International boundary line, that
we were going into Germany.
At 1451 hours, a platoon from Reconnaissance Company, 33rd
Armored Regiment, led by Lieutenant Burroughs, crossed the border,
followed instantly by the main body of Task Force Lovelady. We
were entering Roetgen, the first town in Hitler's doomed fatherland
to fall into Allied hands.
When this startling report reached Combat Command "B"
headquarters, Brigadier General Boudinot could not restrain his
elation. In anticipation of the event, his command post was filled
with news reporters. Those of us who tuned in on the task force
radio channel heard General Boudinot speak to the operator.
"Tell Lovelady he's famous! Congratulate him and tell
him to keep on going!"
Most of the civilians stayed in their houses. Those who were
outside and those who looked inquisitively from their doorways
wore the half-frightened, dazed mask of surrender. We breathed
a sigh of relief that they did not plan to defend this first
German town house by house and stone by stone.
Warily approaching the eastern edge of the village, its only
exit, reconnaissance stopped at a large crater in the road, hurriedly
blown to delay us longer.
Lieutenant Burroughs dismounted to examine it further, and
was shot dead by an enemy rifleman.
Days were getting shorter now and nights were crisp as autumn
approached. We must remain in Roetgen until dawn.
During the night, Lieutenant Hall crossed the crater with
his company of infantry and met the same fate as Lieutenant Burroughs.
While the infantry defended the obstacle, Captain Conally's engineers
filled it with rock and gravel.
No sooner had we started the next morning than our eyes witnessed
the first elements of the Siegfried Line. The only trail led
steeply up a hill, with impassably steep cliffs on the right
side. On the left, where tanks would be able to deploy, were
carefully constructed "Dragon's Teeth." These were
pyramidal concrete structures, perhaps three feet high and reinforced
with steel. They were close together in several rows, offset
one from another, making it impossible for even the smallest
vehicles to drive through them.
Straddling the road, midway up the hill, was a sturdy iron
gate, strong L-beams of steel angled into the ground to increase
the effectiveness of this barrier.
Looking down on us from above, and obviously placed to protect
the elaborate defenses against any who might molest them, were
two concrete pillboxes, expertly camouflaged. Any movement by
the infantry brought a withering hail of machine gun fire.
The tankers lost no time firing directly at the tiny apertures,
their 75 and 76 millimeter guns blazing for several minutes.
This discouraged the occupants of the pillboxes and they emerged
one by one, about thirty in all, and willingly surrendered.
Now the engineers were able to blow the gate with T.N.T.,
while the girders were pulled out of the ground by hand.
Continuing up the hill, we were only slightly delayed by mines
laying fully exposed on the road. Cautiously sliding these to
one side, the single file of tanks approached the summit. We
had successfully opened the first barriers in the most formidable
defense line ever built by man.
Knowing that we must come to the top of the hill in single
file, the Germans waited for us and had a field day of their
own for awhile, costing our task force four Sherman tanks and
a half-track but wounding surprisingly few.
The enemy had not long to revel in his early success, for
by late afternoon the tables turned and we knocked out a Mark
V Panther, two 88 millimeter dual purpose, three anti-tank and
seven well dug-in 20 millimeter ack-ack guns.
We were headed downhill now, looking into a long, narrow valley.
On our left, a Panther crept stealthily toward us. Sharp eyes
caught it, lurking in the long afternoon shadows of evergreens.
S/Sgt. Stanko (later to be honored by a battlefield commission)
expertly trained his new 76 millimeter gun on the target, firing
a round of high-speed, armor-piercing ammunition at the enemy
colossus. True as an arrow the missile found its mark, incapacitating
the offender by penetrating under its final drive. Firing six
more rounds in rapid succession, Stanko with his crew of veteran
tankers left the Panther burning. Little did he realize that
stars were watching him. Major General Rose and Brigadier General
Boudinot were nearby, having come forward to help plan the next
days' operation. Both of these commanders had seen at first hand
the type of marksmanship that helped make Task Force Lovelady
a great team.
On that first day in Germany, we were suddenly popular with
news correspondents and commentators. Wandering along the column
and among our vehicles coiled in the fields was bean-pole Dick
Tregaskis, author of Guadalcanal Diary. Shoulders slightly
bent, he seemed older than his less than thirty years as he talked
casually with the fighting men of Task Force Lovelady. With him
was Gordon Fraser, National Broadcasting Corporation's earnest,
conscientious commentator.
We bivouacked that night a few hundred yards short of Rott,
an important supply base for this portion of the Siegfried Line,
accounting for its stubborn defense. In the darkness we heard
the now familiar sound of German tanks, trailing away on our
left as they sought short refuge in the next valley.
Our friends, the P-47 Thunderbolts, became less helpful as
the clouds and rain of early autumn appeared. Visibility was
seldom adequate for them to find targets at high speeds. We learned
not to expect them for days at a time and became more and more
dependent upon the "Eyes of the Artillery," the little
"Cubs."
Moments of leisure were scarce. With rain nearly every day
and earlier nightfalls, there was not much opportunity to write.
However, most of us wrote at least one letter on, or soon after,
September 12th, and below the dateline where a year ago we indicated
"Somewhere in England," two months ago "Somewhere
in France," and a week ago "Somewhere in Belgium,"
we noted proudly, "Somewhere in Germany."
Already, we held a strong foothold encouragingly deep within
the Siegfried Line. We did not intend to be pushed out of it.
The enemy held equally firm intentions that we would not continue
to penetrate it. Fanatically, they were fighting against time,
while they reorganized their sadly disarranged armies and rushed
reinforcements to plug the hole we were rapidly expanding in
their precious concrete barriers. Their pillboxes, manned by
second-rate troops and covered by too little artillery, would
fail to slow our pace, so they blew every bridge, of which there
were so many, crossing every stream as they meandered back and
forth, themselves seeking the path of least resistance through
the same valley that canalized us.
Every day, the 23rd Armored Engineers with Task Force Lovelady
would have to build at least one bridge, and oftimes they had
scarcely escorted our column across one than they were called
upon to build another.
Breaking camp at eight o'clock in the morning of the 14th
of September, we crossed an engineer bridge and rolled rather
smoothly for several miles when the combat commander ordered
us to halt in order that we might divert part of our force to
relieve a situation which had developed in the sector on our
left.
By afternoon the left flank was more secure. We uncoiled from
the fields of Venwegen, drove hard through Breinig to Breinigeberg.
Here, the task force bivouacked while reconnaissance elements
continued forward, finding another bridge demolished near Stolberg.
Enemy artillery fire was increasing in intensity, indicating
to us that they were improving their organization, bringing up
more men and material, viciously trying to seal the ever enlarging
leak in their main line of defense, and last hope for the salvation
of Germany west of the Rhine.
The road junction, at the bottom of a hill, leading in one
direction to Stolberg and in the other to Mausbach, was subjected
to sustained artillery fire through the night, as the engineers
built a bridge, and during the day, as our column moved across
it. Half a dozen men from Headquarters and "D" companies
were wounded by shell fragments. Among them was Lieutenant Glen
Alford, whose platoon reached the road junction during a barrage.
Advancing towards the high ground, we cleared out three pillboxes
manned by motley crews of war-sick Germans who were easily persuaded.
Turning right at the top of the hill, our plan was to capture
Mausbach, turn left and go on to Gressenich. Unfortunately, we
were exposed to commanding ground on our left flank. The enemy
had numerous tanks and anti-tank guns well dug-in behind slag
piles and quarries, looking down on us to the best advantage.
As our tanks, led by "D" company, peeked beyond
the village, they were met by devastating direct fire, while
the rest of them suffered frightfully accurate artillery barrages
in Mausbach. Before we knew it, casualties had mounted to more
than thirty, and three men had been killed. We lost seven tanks
and one tank destroyer before being able to withdraw. The Germans
won that round but not before they had lost a Mark V tank, an
88 millimeter gun, and fifty prisoners to Task Force Lovelady.
The aid station for the task force worked with all speed in
the heavily shelled town of Mausbach. Their ambulances had all
been loaded and driven towards the rear. There were still sixteen
patients to be evacuated as our troops reluctantly retreated.
One sorely needed ambulance was hit on the return trip by an
anti-tank gun, disappearing in a halo of yellow flame. Finally,
others came and the aid station was able to move back with the
rest of the force. One medical half-track, returning that night
to the forsaken town in quest of reported casualties, returned
without patients, but with seven prisoners of their own, who
were more than happy to surrender to the unarmed aid men.
Vehicles coiled and spread out in the open fields bordered
by heavy pine growth which had not been searched for enemy soldiers
during the day, and now the last rays of light were dissolving
in the thickness of night, as the remnants of Task Force Lovelady
dug themselves in.
Hardly had they begun than Lieutenant Thomas McGreevy, commanding
the assault gun platoon, perturbedly reported to the command
post that one of his half-track crews had been captured. His
vehicles had backed into the woods for camouflage, and, while
everyone was engaged in preparations for the night, a German
patrol sneaked noiselessly in, performed their mission and disappeared
into the impenetrable darkness.
For the first time, Colonel Lovelady utilized a pillbox for
his command post. These were grotesque monuments to the Todt
Organization which built the Siegfried Line, a doubtful tribute
to the plodding efficiency of the Teutonic mind. This particular
one was, perhaps, thirty feet long, twenty-five feet wide, and
fourteen feet high. It was sunk in an excavation, the dirt being
mounded far above the structure itself, even on its roof, then
planted with grass to afford near-perfect camouflage. Its walls
were four feet thick, of steel-reinforced concrete. The only
openings, except for the massive steel door, were small vents
and machine gun apertures. The intent, of course, was to construct
an impregnable barrier to infantry and have each pillbox thoroughly
protected by heavy artillery pieces, tanks, and anti-tank guns,
concealed and dug into the earth further back. Fortunately for
us, the enemy had only now stopped reeling from his headlong
dash across Belgium into Germany, and had not had time to man
his defenses properly. Inside this dismal, oversized coffin were
bunks swinging out from the walls, not unlike those in a troopship,
and in sufficient number to accommodate nearly twenty men.
Pillboxes were great monstrosities, but once emptied of the
enemy, made excellent command posts and aid stations, because
they were absolute assurance against artillery.
Later on, however, when the Germans learned our location,
there were many casualties in the vicinity of the pillbox among
those who didn't have time to reach its protection.
For the next three days, from the 16th to the 18th of September,
our bedraggled, exhausted infantry made local attacks to determine
the strength of the enemy, trying to locate a weak spot where
we might break through. They found well-prepared positions held
tenaciously by a larger force than ours. The same system was
used by the Germans, who daily prodded our lines in counterattacks,
attempting to determine our weak points. These were invariably
accompanied by constant mortar and artillery fire which harassed
and added further to our mounting casualties through the days
and nights.
Would there be no respite? Especially infantrymen, but tankers,
too, were physically exhausted to the near breaking point. They
were tired, cold, wet, and dirty. Their uniforms were worn and
actually rotting, many hanging practically in shreds. Eyes were
bloodshot, cheeks hollowed, shoulders bent forward, and what
few grim smiles were encountered showed stained and lusterless
teeth framed in drab, cadaverous faces.
We must not stop! Fresh troops were surely on the way to carry
the torch that we must soon let drop. But oh! The misery of waiting!
With frayed nerves, the more susceptible by physical debility,
increasing numbers of us began to wear the gaunt, hunted mask
of combat fatigue. Eyes that saw not; ears that heard not. On
every side of us, once strong, heartily cheerful soldiers were
breaking down, stumbling or being carried to the aid station,
crying like babies. Tempers snapped and courage failed. These
sodden faces, more ghastly under growth of wiry stubble, gray
and bloodless, unwounded and without loss of flesh, yet worse
than wounded really, for these were ghosts of men, became more
and more a common sight.
The few who stayed on were game. They did not ask for rest.
They only prayed for strength to carry on.
Nine counterattacks were staved off in one day, the 19th of
September! That was the day we attacked at six o'clock in the
evening preceded by a sizeable artillery preparation. The objective,
near the quarry just beyond Diepenlinchen, was reached, and our
tankers knocked out two Mark IV's and one Mark V. Our own losses
were bitterly heavy, which we paid with seven of our fourteen
remaining medium tanks and two light tanks. Considering that
our task force normally had thirty-four Shermans in its two medium
companies, we were now dangerously understrength.
Under cover of darkness on the 20th of September, and with
a relatively fresh company of infantry from the ever welcome
First Division, Task Force Lovelady made a night attack through
Diepenlinchen, pushing a confused enemy back about fifteen hundred
yards.
On the next day we were to clear the woods on our left flank,
thereby establishing physical contact with the task force parallel
to us. This was accomplished, though there were several casualties,
mostly caused by mortar shells bursting among the trees. The
larger part of our task force then moved to a group of farm buildings
not far from Stolberg, where artillery and mortar fire was even
heavier than it was before.
At least there were no more attacks planned. Rumors gave way
to facts, and during the drizzly night of 25 September, Task
Force Lovelady crept through the woods, returning along the main
route of evacuation to Breinig, approximately three miles from
the now stabilized line of defense. The long promised rest was
at hand! Task Force Lovelady had finally been burned out. The
miracle of it was it had not collapsed sooner. Reorganization,
rest for men, maintenance for vehicles, reequipping, salvage
and repair of knocked out tanks, reinforcement of our ranks with
men and officers, had now become imperative. A once powerful
task force had admittedly been weakened to virtual impotence
by utter exhaustion.
The spirit of Task Force Lovelady, however, could not be stifled.
Those who remained held their heads high, unashamed and proud.
They knew the team would rise again, fight again, win again,
and they were ready to help it.
The companies and attachments dispersed their vehicles in
the fields around Breinig. These they camouflaged with nets and
branches. Then foxholes were dug, for we were well within artillery
range of the enemy, and the Luftwaffe would surely make a nuisance
of itself at night. Pup-tents were pitched and tarpaulin's were
improvised against the tanks for shelter. Company kitchens were
set up for the first time since the end of the Falaise-Argentan
Gap, and though we were able to draw only 10 in 1 rations, it
was at least a relief not to have to prepare them ourselves.
Showers were arranged for, and every day truckloads of us enjoyed
this luxury for the first time since landing in France. At the
shower point we could exchange our old clothing for clean. Sometimes
it was new, more often it was just freshly laundered. Either
way, it was appreciated because most of us had been fighting
for months without a change, and uniforms were actually on the
verge of decomposition. There were movies in the recreation hall
of the town, and Red Cross trucks came in with coffee, doughnuts.
and music, most of their value being derived from the girls who
served them.
In three short days, when we had hardly begun to rest and
vehicles badly needed more complete overhauling, we were ordered
back into the line.
Happily enough, the plan was not one of attack. It was merely
to hold the same line of defense that we had left, in order that
the task force who relieved us might return to Breinig to enjoy
the same brief respite that we had had.
Our tanks rumbled obediently, albeit a trifle reluctantly,
up the hill overlooking Stolberg, and we traded places with the
other task force, tank for tank and man for man. Because of the
noise and general increase in activity the enemy threw in extra
rations of artillery and mortar, their guns being answered promptly
and vociferously by those of the 391st, who were supporting us.
The enemy still had direct observation on our forward positions
and every time tankers would dismount from their vehicles, accurate
fire drove them under their tanks. Finally it became impossible
to move at all without drawing merciless barrages into the whole
area, making it mandatory to remain in the tanks all day, with
the hatches buttoned. Only at night was it reasonably safe to
get outside and stretch, then only for short periods and with
the utmost precautions against making any noise.
During the day our outposts would watch the enemy prowling
around their own pillboxes and fortifications. They could see
our artillery shells burst among the German troops and follow
their ambulances cautiously creeping across the fields to evacuate
the wounded.
At night, both sides frequently sent out small patrols, keeping
everyone constantly alert and inflicting mutual harassment even
though the information gained was slight.
After five full days of this, tankers especially were tired,
lame, unshaven and unclean from living, eating and sleeping in
their cramped uncomfortable compartments, even performing their
excretory functions in empty shell cases, disposing of container
and contents by cautiously throwing them out of the hatches.
Again the task force was relieved amidst the usual increased
allotment of artillery, and we returned to the fields we had
first sought refuge in.
Thus it went. Five days of misery in the line, five days of
relative rest, peace and some comfort near Breinig. Eventually,
as the weather became colder, we were allowed to move the German
civilians out of their homes into one end of town, while we appropriated
the buildings for billets. This had long been our desire, but
we had to wait for orders to reach us from higher headquarters.
Now we were able to keep dry, do our laundry, to have heat in
our quarters, and light. We felt more like gentleman soldiers
than at any time since April in England, when we had first moved
into the field.
Morale improved with the food, and we were sometimes issued
"B" rations. It improved as our standards of living
improved and entertainment became more available. A few were
lucky enough to go on pass to Paris and Verviers, though the
allotment was so small, initially, that not many were able to
enjoy that rare privilege. It improved as the conditions of our
vehicles improved and we were being issued more and more of the
latest type Sherman tanks with high velocity 76 millimeter guns,
some with Ford motors, some with Diesel. Replacements for men
and officers began to fill our ranks until we looked more like
a battalion again than a company. Men who had been wounded along
the line trickled back happily and were always heartily welcomed.
We were beginning to regain confidence in the fighting power
of Task Force Lovelady. New men inherited and soon absorbed the
pride that came with wearing the 3rd Armored Division patch and
being assigned to Task Force Lovelady.
Complete idleness, undirected, is not good for any man. For
veterans of many battles it is worse, because they cannot help
but let their minds wander back to the horrors they have seen
and experienced. Loneliness creeps in, the days drag, and the
mind is slowly poisoned against the unforeseeable tasks ahead.
It was natural that we should fume and curse about the orders
in October which demanded a daily four-hour period of training.
Only in retrospect did it prove to be a valuable undertaking.
Its mission was accomplished. We kept busy every morning until
noon and performed worthwhile tasks. Our clothes were pressed
and cleaned. Our weapons and vehicles were reconditioned and
brought back to excellent condition. We may not have noticed
it at the time, but there was a gradual change for the better
during those weeks, and it was partly because of this return
to semi-garrison life that our task force was speedily refreshed,
rejuvenated, and able to carry on so admirably in the future.
October gave way to November. Soft white snow flakes, beautiful
in their descent, melted when they touched the earth, leaving
in their wake nothing but ugly mud. In anticipation of a winter
offensive, mud grippers were applied to the tracks of medium
tanks.
There were more and more secret meetings at combat command
and division headquarters. The pace of maintenance and drawing
of equipment was speeded early in the month. Preparations were
being made in real earnestness to strike another blow. Task Force
Lovelady was ready.
Task Force Lovelady's part in the November offensive was the
most carefully planned of any they had ever engaged in. There
were two weeks of orientation and study before it started. Maps
and aerial photos were inspected so frequently, and so minutely,
that everyone had a clear mental picture of the terrain and knew
exactly what units would be on either flank. Some had ventured
to the hill east of Mausbach, where the scene of the attack spread
out below in its entirety. There would be the Line of Departure;
there the draw that shows on the map; there the gravel quarry;
there Gressenich (there's not much left of it now except part
of a square church steeple); there is Werth; and there the high
ground beyond. There was not a driver, bow gunner, or loader
who had not personally studied the operational maps. Each man
knew in precise detail what his particular job would be.
Our task force was going to punch another hole in the Siegfried
Line, through which the First and Ninth Infantry Divisions would
pour their might against a startled foe before they would have
time to consider what was happening to them. The ultimate purpose
was to extend the United States First Army's lines as far as
the Roer River.
Never had we been given such a limited objective, the furthest
point of which was scarcely two miles from the line of departure.
Our mission was to seize and secure the town of Werth and
a little group of heavily fortified buildings called Kottenich,
and to hold a line roughly between the two. In addition, we would
remain prepared to send part of our task force to Hastenrath
or Sherpenseel, or both, should the unit whose mission included
these objectives need help.
Our line company commanders at that time were Captain Monroe
with "D" company, 1st Lieutenant Vernon Dingley with
"E" company, and Captain Morrison with "B"
company. These officers, with Colonel Lovelady and Major Stallings,
formulated in detail the plan of attack.
"D" company would take the left flank, driving in
a straight line to a point due east of Werth, then swerve sharply
left to the edge of town. Infantry, driving behind the tanks
in half-tracks, would then dismount and together they would enter
the town. Once this objective was seized, it would be firmly
secured by tank-infantry road blocks. Given good flying weather,
P-47's would dive-bomb the objective to clear it of anti-tank
weapons.
Characteristically, Colonel Lovelady announced a blitzkrieg
schedule, saying he expected "D" company to be on their
objective in thirty minutes! It sounded mechanically impossible,
even if it were just a road march, because of the inevitable
mud and total absence of roads. Captain Monroe, however, was
not to be dismayed, and the commander's prophecy was to be more
than satisfied when the objective was seized in twenty-one minutes.
"E" company would take the right flank. They would
start parallel with "D" but instead of turning left,
continue straight ahead to Kottenich. They, too, would execute
the attack at all possible speed, absorbing their losses from
mines and other weapons to whatever extent would be necessary.
The mission, accomplished speedily, would enhance its surprise
effect and enable the infantry units from the First and Ninth
Divisions to capitalize on the rent we had torn in the West Wall.
Task Force Lovelady had every intention of assuring that success.
"B" company would start out in reserve, protecting
the left flank. Once the town of Werth was secured, they would
return to the vicinity of our starting point by way of the highway
between Werth and Diepenlinchen, thus opening a suitable axis
for evacuation. They, too, would be prepared to go to Hastenrath
and Sherpenseel on order.
There were none who knew when the attack would take place.
All plans were made on a basis of D-Day, just as they had been
for the great Normandy breakthrough. Area bombing north of us
in the vicinity of Echweiler would begin at H-Hour minus 165
minutes. At H-Hour minus 60 minutes, the greatest artillery barrage
in the course of the war would begin, continuing, with predetermined
minutes of silence occasionally, until H-Hour. Then all artillery
would cease except as requested by forward observers. The entire
artillery command in the United States First Army was assembled
in our sector, scene of the main effort.
At precisely H-Hour, the massive, coordinated attack would
start. All units of General Hodges' army would jump off at exactly
the same time. Of vital importance to Task Force Loveladv were
the missions of the Ninth and First Infantry Divisions' combat
teams. The former was to take Gressenich immediately, the latter
to take Hamich and secure the ridge in front of us.
Once again Task Force Lovelady was ready to pit its skill
and power against the enemy. The original members of the team
had no anxiety about the newborn capabilities of the unit. The
reinforcement soldiers and officers had been battle-conditioned
by short periods in the line since late September. They knew
each other, knew their tanks and weapons; they wanted a chance
to start afresh where the exhausted remnants of our task force
groaned to a halt two months ago. Here was the test to prove
that a champion could make a brilliant comeback! The stage was
set. Task Force Lovelady braced itself and waited.
On the 10th of November we were ordered to proceed to the
assembly area which was almost exactly the same place we retired
to with our battered tanks and haggard bodies in September.
Coincidentally with the move, General Eisenhower drove behind
our column, turning to go into Stolberg as we lumbered up the
hill.
Once there, the tanks dispersed expertly under the shadows
of trees, their camouflage perfected with branches.
Every morning we awakened with the question, "Will this
be D-Day?" As the days passed and nothing happened, our
normal tenseness of anticipation diminished to the calmness of
near-boredom.
On November 14th, Lieutenant Abig with a soldier from his
platoon in "E" company scouted around the dilapidated
buildings of Diepenlinchen. A German second lieutenant, perhaps
lingering too long after a night patrol into our lines, perhaps
purposely there to give himself up, was captured in one of the
homes.
The prisoner answered questions readily, volunteering information
which we at first regarded suspiciously but later proved to be
correct in every detail. He gave the location of minefields,
the positions of guns and fortifications, the disposition and
approximate strength of troops. He even told of a German kitchen
truck which drove into Gressenich every day, feeding the troops
near the church. Most important of all, we learned that the troops
now on duty would be relieved during the night by a fresh regiment.
This was a perfect time to strike!
On the morning of November 16th, Colonel Lovelady called a
meeting of all officers. He announced that this was the long-awaited
D-Day. That the bombing would begin at 1015 hours, the artillery
preparation at 1145, and H-Hour would be promptly at 1245. For
the last time he reviewed the operation, answering last-minute
questions, reiterating his plea for speed, and wishing us luck.
Watches were synchronized, and muddy peep trails traced spokes
from the hub of Task Force Lovelady to its outer reaches.
Soon after 10 o'clock the drone of heavy bombers told us that
the first act was about to begin. The curtain raised at exactly
1015 as black sticks of bombs hurtled earthward from the leading
planes far to our left front. Soon the rose-tinted haze of fire
and smoking cordite, powdered buildings and debris, laid for
miles across the land.
At 1145 the deafening roar of huge artillery pieces shook
the earth. Never had there been such prodigious quantities of
explosives thrown at the enemy in such a short time and in such
a concentrated area.
As H-Hour approached, the pine trees stretched their branches,
releasing the tanks of Task Force Lovelady. Slowly they headed
cross-country towards the line of departure, their speed timed
to reach it at exactly H-Hour.
Suddenly from Mausbach, the weird screech of thousands of
rockets made us cringe for a moment until we realized what this
unearthly noise was. Great clouds of smoke and fire belched forth
from the launchers as the rockets sped towards the ridge.
The tanks came abreast of each other now, lining up race horse
fashion as they reached the starting line.
Minutes ticked away and hearts pounded until it seemed that
one could hear his own above the sound of the tank engines. At
1245 the idling motors roared into action, blue and yellow streaks
of fire spewing out of their wide exhausts while both medium
companies crossed the line of departure at the maximum speed
possible in the soft earth.
Ahead of them and with no way to bypass it, stretched a deadly
minefield. Only luck and prayers could lead a tank between these
buried demons without getting knocked out.
The point tank of "D" company drove into the minefield
without diminishing its speed. There must have been a minute
when no one breathed, but nothing happened. The first tank had
struck just the right spot, establishing a lane which could now
be used by the whole company! The rest of "D" company
followed in their leader's tracks without a casualty, and behind
them came the half-tracks loaded with infantrymen from the 36th
Armored Infantry Regiment.
"E" company approached the minefields on the right,
their lead tank stopping short when one of its tracks was blown
off by a Teller mine. Without hesitating, the next tank pulled
alongside, hit a mine, and disappeared momentarily in a shroud
of black smoke and flying mud. The same fate met the third and
the fourth. Finally, the fifth tank found an opening and the
rest of "E" company followed through, increasing their
speed to make up for lost time.
In the meantime, "D" company had turned left, racing
over the hill to Werth, where they came under direct observation
by the enemy. Thus far, without a casualty in men or tanks, they
halted momentarily on the edge of town, waiting for the infantry
to join them. Quickly, the doughboys dismounted from their half-tracks
at the bottom of the hill, double-timed towards town, and together,
with perfect cooperation, the tanks and infantry entered Werth,
exactly twenty-one minutes after H-Hour!
"E" company was thundering towards the main road
leading from Gressenich to Hastenrath. Both of these towns were
still in enemy hands and both were visible. Most of the leading
platoon got across the road without mishap, then one was hit
by a small, rocket-type anti-tank gun. Without stopping, those
tanks which had gotten on the other side of the road continued
towards their objective, now easily within sight. At the same
time, the next tank pulled up to the road and it was knocked
out. Lieutenant Dingley's tank followed, joining the other crippled
hulks. Lieutenant Dingley was painfully wounded but ordered the
others to go on and Lieutenant Hope assumed command of the company
without waiting for instructions. The leading tanks went into
the fortified buildings of Kottenich with guns blazing. It was
strategically defended with 75 millimeter howitzers and a well
armed garrison, but fell swiftly and irrevocably under the withering
blasts of direct tank fire. Lieutenant Hope's and S/Sgt. Stanko's
tanks were on their objective at H-Hour plus 24 minutes with
what was left of "E" company.
Meanwhile, the tankers whose vehicles had been knocked out
were in a most unfortunate position, and with their wounded suffered
hardships which only those who were there will ever know. Enemy
infantry being pushed out of Gressenich by the advancing Ninth
were coming in on them. They dismounted the .30 calibre machine
guns from their disabled tanks, setting up strong outposts around
a house on the edge of town, prepared to defend the wounded to
the last man, and to hold their ground, whatever the cost. This
they did successfully, holding off the fanatic attempts of the
enemy to enter. Later in the afternoon the situation cleared
and it was finally possible to evacuate the casualties.
After its securement, Werth was even more of a hot-seat than
during the first minutes of the capture. In the initial phases
of the attack, fifty prisoners were taken, but later on when
other enemy troops were being pushed into the town by the task
force on our left, the fighting increased rather than diminished.
There was a continuous job of mopping up, tightening of outposts
and road blocks which persisted until midnight. There was still
considerable infiltration after that time, and by the next day
we had taken a hundred prisoners.
It can hardly be said that the enemy was caught napping. Considering
the bombing and the terrific pounding of his positions by artillery,
he made our punch expensive and, though he did not retard the
speed or scope of our attack, he did succeed in making the infantry
gains slow and costly.
Colonel Lovelady stayed with the medium tank companies throughout
the attack, while his command group followed along behind, setting
up in the deep gully just east of Werth. Shortly after the colonel
left his tank, it met disaster by artillery, killing Matecha
and wounding Medius. Twenty enlisted men and two officers were
wounded, and the new reconnaissance lieutenant, Ginsberg, was
killed by a sniper.
As soon as the enemy had been completely cleared out, both
objectives and the command post area came under intense and persistent
artillery fire, which was far too accurately observed and extremely
nerve racking.
With us at that time was Lieutenant Don Andrus, a P-38 pilot
who coordinated air-ground operations. He had never seen combat
from the ground before and had anticipated the experience with
more than the usual amount of zest for an airman. Prior to the
attack he had innocently remarked that he would like to be in
an artillery barrage. By the end of the second day he had had
quite enough and never, never even wanted to hear the word artillery
mentioned again. By the end of the operation, his bedding roll,
which had been carried on the rear deck of a tank that was subsequently
knocked out, was so thoroughly riddled with shell fragments that
it was utterly valueless. This, however, was his proudest possession
and when the time came for him to return to his post, he insisted
on carrying that with him. Stroking his chin thoughtfully, he
asked, "Shall I tell 'em I was in it?" Then, realizing
that it was entirely too full of holes and bits of jagged steel
for anyone to believe such a story, he decided, "I guess
I'd better say I just got out of it!" Thus it was that he
returned willingly to the kind of fighting he knew, only to be
killed a few days later while on a strafing mission.
The first three days were miserable ones indeed, and the weather
made them worse. It rained constantly, making movement in wheeled
vehicles virtually impossible. With increasing difficulty, tracked
vehicles ground through the ever-deepening mud.
On D plus 1, "B" company and the engineers started
to clear the proposed route of evacuation. A light tank was destroyed
by a Teller mine, and the operation was not completed until the
third day, complicating the problem of supply and the rapid return
of the wounded.
It was D plus 1, too, that a P-47 accidentally dive-bombed
"B" company's command post, blasting Captain Morrison
temporarily into oblivion, which necessitated his hospitalization.
The enemy artillery barrages continued unabated, all through
the day and night of November 18th.
The axis of advance in the first battalion task force sector
on our left flank was under close scrutiny by the enemy from
the beginning. A continuation of the same minefield that almost
stemmed our drive, well protected with its mortal sting increased
by artillery and anti-tank fire, made it an even more deadly
obstacle than ours. Their losses were heavy, which prompted them
to change their course and come through Werth, attacking Hastenrath
from a different direction. By the 18th of November they needed
help. Thus it was that a small group from the 83rd Armored Reconnaissance
Battalion held Werth, while Captain Monroe and his "D"
company tankers with "E" company infantry blazed a
trail into both Sherpenseel and Hastenrath. Direct fire accounted
for many tanks and there were a considerable number of casualties.
The phenomenally good luck of "D" company had run out.
Captain Monroe left his tank to reconnoiter the terrain with
his artillery observer and was shot dead by a German infantryman.
How short a time some men are destined to serve in combat!
This was a pitched battle, a day of give and take. The entire
front was fluid, and losses were severe on both sides. Ammunition
and gasoline were rapidly being exhausted and the supply route
which we had counted on was not yet open to traffic. Rations
were replenished by half-track ambulances, who would drop them
off every time they came for wounded.
By the 19th, our status was less chaotic. Sherpenseel was
cleared completely and the other task force held Hastenrath,
only a quarter of a mile away. Critical supplies were refurbished
and the infantry units attacked and secured the ridge in front
of us, relieving us of the embarrassment of having our every
move observed by the enemy.
The front flowed slowly, relentlessly forward, until, by the
21st of November, we were no longer in physical contact with
the foe, though their artillery continued pounding away at us.
The 104th and 1st Infantry Divisions literally pinched us out
as they continued towards the Roer, thanking us for the helpful
punch we had dealt the tenaciously held line.
By that time, our crippled tanks were being retrieved and
repaired. Only four were irreparably damaged, but seventeen others
had been incapacitated, chiefly by mines.
The command group established itself in a badly mauled house
in Werth while the companies shifted around until, finally, everybody
was under cover, of a sort, and once more we settled down to
routine living, fighting nothing but mud.
By Thanksgiving our tanks were ready for action again, and
our personnel had been replenished until now we were at full
strength.
We celebrated Thanksgiving as elaborately as practicable in
our crude, war-torn environment. Company kitchens exerted their
best efforts to provide sumptuous turkey dinners "with all
the fixin's." In the face of a war yet unfinished, we found
much to be thankful for.
There were no indications of any action being planned in the
near future. We relaxed, made ourselves more comfortable, and
began thinking of Christmas.
Just as these dreams of trimmed trees, parties, and holiday
wines were taking shape, we were violently awakened by the writhing
convulsions of the critically insane, but by no means dying German
military machine, which was to play havoc in one last fantastic
adventure in the Ardennes.
IMPORTANT NOTE
from the author
There were five distinct chapters in the combat history of
Task Force Lovelady, each one the story of a major campaign.
The present chapter was interrupted for two full months in the
space of time, hence the present account must be interrupted
while our task force writes a fourth chapter with blood, hate,
steel and fire, in the deeply snow-laden fields, forests and
villages of Belgium.
The author suggests then, that for the reader to follow the
trail of Task Force Lovelady chronologically, he should leave,
momentarily, the last few pages in this chapter to join us through
the most gruelling tests that men and machines must endure together
in the course of total war as told in Chapter IV, starting on
page 77.
In Stolberg, we felt that we were practically home again, since
we had helped occupy this castled city and its environs for three
full months prior to our precipitation into the Ardennes.
Training and recreational activities continued while we put
the finishing touches on our new team. Lieutenant Bill Farrington
returned from England where he had been hospitalized since September,
and took command of "E" company. Lieutenant Glen Alford
commanded "D" company, and Lieutenant Shipman remained
with "B" company.
Each of the medium companies drew one T-26 "Pershing"
tank, the titan of American armor which had not yet been baptized
into battle or announced to the public. These ponderous weapons
weighed 42 tons, with tracks which were nearly a yard wide, and
mounted a great 90 millimeter cannon. It was America's answer
to the German "Panther," from whose tough hide our
ordinary tank shells had too long bounced off harmlessly, while
the Panther's deadly sting would pierce our Shermans in their
heaviest armored spots and go out the other side.
To strengthen the armor on the front of our tanks, some of
the crews, particularly in "E" company, constructed
reinforced slope plates of concrete and steel three or four inches
thick.
Finally we were more nearly up to normal tank strength than
at any time since hedgerow days, with 17 tanks in each medium
company, and 16 in "B" company, a total of fifty tanks.
The main topic of conversation was the inevitable crossing
of the Roer River, followed by the drive across the Cologne plains
to the Rhine. The Germans had blown the dams which controlled
the height of the river, thus delaying the assault but crystallizing
the plans.
As soon as the waters receded slightly, the 104th and the
8th Infantry Divisions would establish a Corps bridgehead from
Duren northward to the 9th Army Boundary. Then the 3rd Armored
Division would cross in the Duren sector, break out of the bridgehead,
thrusting its spear towards the Rhine.
Once again, there was time to thoroughly study the plans for
the encounter, at least the first phase. Aerial photos and large
scale maps were pondered over daily. Defense maps showed the
location of six battalions of artillery which could oppose us,
and 20 "88" millimeter guns in the vicinity of Elsdorf,
one of our first objectives. Our artillery units furnished Cub
planes for flights over Duren, in order that commanders could
see the terrain at first hand.
To the men of Task Force Lovelady it always seemed that every
move began at night or on Sundays. Thus, at midnight on the 26th
day of February, the deafening roar of many tanks reverberated
against the stone buildings in Stolberg as our task force streamed
over the hill to the autobahn, thence to Duren. Under the light
of a full moon, we crossed the pontoon bridge uneventfully, picking
up the second battalion of the 13th Infantry Regiment in the
shadows of a burned-out factory. Driving through Arnoldsweiler
to Ellen we learned that the 104th had already taken our first
objective, Morschsnich, for which we were duly grateful. By six
o'clock in the morning, we were bypassing this town, swinging
northwards through woods to Wullenrath.
Shortly after noon, we heard the familiar hum of friendly
fighter-bombers through the heavy mist. We wondered as they circled
what brought them out on a day like this. Then we heard a whine
like a thousand rockets and stood petrified as their bomb loads
plummeted earthward. All of them landed between Morschenich and
the woods, killing and wounding several field artillery men,
excavating great holes in the road, and thoroughly frightening
the rest of us. Somehow, their signals had gotten confused while
flying by radar equipment, causing them to bomb prematurely.
"D" company lost a tank to artillery fire and one
to an anti-lank gun, which was soon erased along with others.
"E" company stayed on the left flank, driving through
Wullenrath to Giesendorf, and Berrendorf. Establishing very tight
defense positions, we stopped for the night while Task Force
Welborn worked into Elsdorf on our left flank. In the morning,
"E" company with a company of infantry, jumped off
to assist in the seizure of Elsdorf, reached their objective
in an hour, then swung west to place road blocks on that side
of town.
Tragedy struck just as plans had been completed for the attack
on Elsdorf, scarring our recent successes with bitterness. Perhaps
the largest calibre shells that ever fell on any of the elements
of our task force hit Giesendorf. The first round demolished
an entire house, leaving in its place a deep hole partially filled
with bricks. Fragments flew for a hundred yards, blasting everyone
within that distance off their feet. Many of the pieces found
precious targets, one killing Lieutenant Farrington, another
mortally wounding Captain Peters from the 391st Field Artillery.
Other fragments killed the infantry company commander, wounded
Lieutenants Paulsen and Jones, plus a lesser number of enlisted
men. The most common speculation was that we had been fired upon
by a 380 millimeter railroad gun.
Without loss of time, commands were turned over to junior
officers and the attack progressed.
Lieutenant German's tank, driven by Pfc. Copeland, was hit
in the front by an armor piercing shell, forcing the crew to
bail out. Ordinarily this would have penetrated completely, but
Copeland and his crew had built a concrete reinforcement for
the slope plate, and the missile buried itself harmlessly in
that. Later, when the fire-fight lessened its intensity, Copeland
remounted his tank and drove it back to safety, a courageous
act for which he was highly praised.
The new "Pershing" in "E" company proved
its worth as the fight moved from Giesendorf northward to Elsdorf.
A Mark V and two Mark IV's were its victims, all of them being
completely destroyed by this potent high velocity weapon.
Elsdorf was strongly defended, and for the first time German
civilians were caught firing panzerfausts at our tanks. The city
fell late in the afternoon, and we spent the next day defending
it, while two task forces from C.C.A. passed through it to attack
two towns on the Erft River, Gleisch and Paffendorf. This done,
we assembled in the latter town on March 1st.
Here, plans were proposed for crossing the Erft, and capturing
the large town of Stommein, midway between Paffendorf and the
River Rhine.
For two days we perched on the west bank of the Erft, resting
and amusing ourselves in the humorous ways known only to the
American army. West of the Roer, we had hoped and believed that
Germany was slowly starving during the cold winter months. Quite
the contrary, this fertile agricultural plain, sprinkled with
villages at little more than kilometer intervals, had provided
the best stocked larders we had yet seen in Europe. Fruit cellars
were packed with beautifully canned cherries, strawberries, peaches
and vegetables. Full potato bins embellished every house. Smoked
hams swung invitingly from rafters. Backyards and coops abounded
with chickens and rabbits. Ten-in-one rations were terribly boring,
weren't they? And counterattacks must be repelled even though
they be committed by barnyard fowl. Corporal Hill, always an
enterprising adventurer, experimentally threw captured concussion
grenades into the Erft River, the blasts from which yielded a
fine mess of speckled trout.
Such things were but brief interludes to the sporadic shelling
that continued day and night, to the frequent strafings and bombings
by the overactive Luftwaffe, trying desperately to riddle our
bridges across the river. Several times during the day we could
look into the sky and see the new Heinkel jet-propelled planes
sweeping past more swiftly than sound could travel.
The spectacular drive to the Rhine was, in many respects,
one of the most thrilling that had marked the varied colorful
career of Task Force Lovelady. Except for the too closely spaced
towns, the rolling plains of Cologne were more nearly suited
to tank exploitation than most of the terrain we had fought over.
Here, the easy maneuverability and speed of Shermans paid dividends
over the heavy, sluggish German monsters. Our rapid progress,
reasonably low casualty rate, and gratifying victories over enemy
weapons, made our spirits soar, especially after the Ardennes
counter-offensive, when every day we vacillated alarmingly between
life and death, success and failure. For us, the survivors of
the Ardennes, it was the proof we needed to regain confidence
in our nervous systems, and in our luck. With the same youthful
recklessness that led us so brilliantly across France and deep
into the Siegfried Line, we pressed our advantage, crossing the
Erft on the third day of March, driving viciously, and with renewed
strength, into Stommein.
Other units had forced the Erft Bridgehead through Bergheim
and Niederaussem, then turned east, into Busdorf and Fliesleden.
This was the springboard to Stommein, from which we jumped off
immediately, securing the objective by three o'clock in the afternoon,
each of the companies losing one tank, but together they destroyed
a Mark IV, a self-propelled gun, and captured 120 prisoners.
The wide expanses of open terrain, spotted generously with
tall buildings, afforded excellent observation for the last-ditch
defenders of the "sacred soil" west of the Rhine. Exhibiting
no shortage of ammunition, they showered us constantly with artillery.
As soon as they lost a town, they showed no more compassion for
its homes and German families than they had manifested in France
and Belgium. Without scruple, they would shell each one mercilessly,
hoping to drive us out or hinder our advance.
On the 4th day of March, Task Force Lovelady once again made
history, by being the first unit of the United States First Army
to reach the Rhine, while we were momentarily attached to the
83rd Armored Reconnaissance Battalion.
Early in the morning, the entire task force attacked Roggendorf.
A tank destroyer was fired upon by what appeared to be one of
our own Shermans, only one of the crew escaping alive. Without
hesitating, "E" company eliminated the rude offender,
and determined that it actually was a Sherman tank, captured
and manned by a German crew. Bypassing an extensive anti-tank
ditch, they crashed into the town much earlier than anticipated
by the enemy, which resulted in the capture of 125 prisoners.
Surely, these were not S.S. soldiers, to surrender a town so
uncomplainingly! For the most part, they were not even Wehrmacht,
but like so many we had encountered recently, were Volksturm
troops. These frightened, ill-trained, poorly equipped substitutes
for a dying army, were composed of citizens who had been rejected
for military service through the years, because of age, large
families, poor health, and physical defects. Some had been discharged
from the army after losing an arm or a leg. Even these culls
of German society were drafted into the "People's Army"
by Hitler, who tried to inculcate them with such fanatic faith
in the Nazi party that they would lay down their lives and block
the roads to Berlin with their bodies. How utterly unsatisfactory
this final desperate effort was, was demonstrated daily by the
large numbers captured without firing a shot.
From Roggendorf, the task force struck with all its might
at Worringen on the Rhine, seizing; and securing it to the very
banks by 1730 hours. Thrilled by their glorious feat, tankers
shot haphazardly at barges laying peacefully at anchor in the
river, while Lieutenant Huttonlock with his mortar platoon rushed
purposelessly to the scene, hastily firing several rounds of
ammunition at imaginary targets on the eastern shores of this
last great natural barrier to the heart of Germany.
The enemy was reluctant to part with this route of withdrawal
across the river, and indicated his dissent by counter-attacking
strongly with a hundred infantry troops, supported by two of
Germany's biggest tanks, Mark VI "Tigers." The attack
was successfully repelled, and one of the Tigers was destroyed.
A total of 380 prisoners had been captured that day and two enemy
tanks had been knocked out.
Now these objectives were left to be defended by the 83rd
Reconnaissance Battalion, while Task Force Lovelady withdrew
to Roggendorf for the night, in order to launch an all-out attack
towards Cologne from the north.
Jumping off at 4 o'clock in the morning, we headed south to
Esch, knocking out machine gun emplacements along the way, and
receiving air bursts from flak guns, which had been depressed
for use against ground troops. Striking northeast, Weiler was
cleared by 0930 hours, while the route of advance was sporadically
fired upon by several tank and anti-tank guns, whose positions
we had not yet taken time to locate. When the town was secured
and eighty prisoners had been collected, the two medium companies
dashed into Fuhlingen. Here, "D" company lost a tank,
while "E" company's sector was heavily shelled from
both sides of the river. Another enemy Tiger was destroyed, and
eighty more prisoners were taken. Early in the afternoon, our
tanks changed their direction, thrusting south, where they were
literally stopped in their tracks by withering anti-tank fire.
Cautious reconnaissance revealed seven enemy tanks carefully
camouflaged among the fortifications south of Feldkassel.
With intentions of outflanking this hornet's nest, "D"
company withdrew at dusk, attacked again, accidentally ending
up in Kasselberg, on the banks of the Rhine "E" company
returned to Feldkassel after dark, and new plans were advanced
for the morrow.
Again the attack began at four o'clock in the morning. This
time, our units were guided over the circuitous routes to our
objective by expertly rendered rounds of white phosphorus shells
fired accommodatingly by the field artillery. By eight o'clock
in the morning, the town of Merkenich was secured.
In the meantime, "B" company, with infantry, proceeded
to envelop the formidable tank nest which had so abruptly halted
us the day before. Then enemy had apparently decided that discretion
was the better part of valor, and withdrew during the night,
allowing us to enter without opposition.
Task Forces Welborn and Lovelady had secured the northern
flanks of Cologne, while the entrance into the city was accomplished
by Task Force Doan in Combat Command "A."
Now we were placed in reserve while street fighting and tank
battles ended resistance in Cologne.
The companies were deployed among the final objectives, and
the headquarters units with much of the infantry, billeted in
a rayon factory. We continued to be targets of high priority
for enemy rockets and artillery, and we were more than glad to
know that our mission had been accomplished, and we would withdraw
for another undetermined period of rehabilitation, before joining
in the coup de grace upon the disintegrating German military
machine.
Task Force Lovelady had operated like a well-oiled machine
to the completion of its task. Now, they withdrew, honorably,
bivouacking briefly in Pulheim. A long and trying drive at night
on the 8th of March brought us to Kottengen and Kierdorf, where
we billeted more permanently with the division's reserve Combat
Command.
The spectacular capture of the Ludendorf Bridge at Remagen
led us to be attached to the mighty 1st Infantry Division, who,
together with all available troops, were frantically pouring
men and material onto the eastern banks of the Rhine, determined
to make the most of this unforeseen opportunity.
For two or three days we were frequently placed on a one-hour
alert in anticipation of being called by the infantry to help
them pound away at the slowly expanding bridgehead.
Nothing materialized, and we settled down to garrison life
with its training programs, inspections, "B" rations,
and recreational facilities. It was only natural for us to complain,
as we had on similar occasions before, about the apparent incongruity
of a training program directly after we had proved ourselves
so admirably in combat. Most of us had been soldiers long enough
to accept our fates resignedly, dismissing the proposal good-naturedly
with an "Oh well, that's the army!" Actually, greater
minds than ours had discovered through the years, that training
is a progressive thing, which is just as necessary to the production
and maintenance of elite troops, as it is to recruits. Retrospectively,
we must agree that as these not-so-trying duty hours proceeded,
we were quickly restored to neat, clean, good-looking human beings,
proud of ourselves and of our unit. We felt better, slept better,
and regained a healthy outlook on life. One cannot help but give
some credit to these days, for being partially responsible for
the thoroughly disciplined, perfectly coordinated team, which
made legends grow around the combat adventures of Task Force
Lovelady.
With the skill of long experience, we swiftly returned to
normal strength in men and tanks. Concrete and steel slope plates,
which had demonstrated their value on Copeland's tank, were constructed
on many others.
Anxiously, we followed the news about the painfully, expensively
enlarging bridgehead, the collapse of the Ludendorf Bridge, the
building of pontoon bridges, the cutting of the autobahn. We
knew that sometime soon, our task force, with its sister units
throughout the division, would again be called into the fray
to punch holes in the stubbornly opposing forces, perhaps precipitating
another breakthrough, this time into the heart of the Reich.
On the 18th of March, we reverted to our customary assignment
with Combat Command "B," and moved into Berrenrath.
Hardly had we gotten settled, than a battalion from Major General
Terry Allen's 104th "Timberwolf" Division, was attached
to us, and Task Force Lovelady was on its way to fresh adventure,
as related chronologically in Chapter V, page 93.
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