Hitler's Last Days (13 page)

The M4 General Sherman tank was the model most widely used during World War II by U.S., British, Canadian, and Free French forces.
[Mary Evans Picture Library]

Patton does not hesitate. “I told him to go ahead,” he will write in his journal tonight. With that order, the Fourth Armored Division begins fighting its way toward Tony McAuliffe and the trapped men of the 101st Airborne.

Lieutenant Colonel Creighton “Abe” Abrams commands the spearhead Thirty-Seventh Tank Battalion of the Fourth Armored. He chews on an unlit cigar so enormous that his men compare it to the barrel of a gun. Perched atop a hill, Abrams sits tall in the turret hatch of his Sherman tank, nicknamed Thunderbolt VII. He has already had six Shermans shot out from under him—all named Thunderbolt. In September he was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross for courage under fire. The men love him because he is a lax disciplinarian away from the battlefield and knows there is a time and place for fun. But when it comes time to fight, they also know they are expected to do precisely as their commanding officer orders.

Bastogne lies just a few miles away. A line of twenty Shermans, the survivors of his original fifty-three, snakes down the narrow and rutted country road behind Abrams. These tanks have names, too, such as Cobra King, Tonto, Deuces Wild, Betty, and Destruction.

Scanning the horizon with his high-powered binoculars, Abrams watches hundreds of C-47 cargo planes dropping supplies to the besieged men of Bastogne. Parachutes laden with ammo, food, and medical supplies blossom against the leaden sky, but Abrams also sees that German antiaircraft fire is successfully shooting down many of the slow-moving twin-engine supply planes. They spiral to earth, soon to explode, the pilots consigned to a fiery death.

The sight of the airdrop, along with the knowledge that American soldiers have been suffering and dying inside Bastogne for more than a week, fills Abrams with a sense of urgency. He sees the 101st defenders crouched down in their snowy foxholes outside the town. He also knows that hundreds of hidden Germans are waiting to destroy any rescuing force.

But Lieutenant Colonel Abrams is convinced he and his men can get through.

So Abrams orders an all-out blitz on the tiny hamlets of Clochimont and Assenois, which sit between him and Bastogne. If he takes the villages, Abrams can be in Bastogne within hours. But if the effort fails, his small force will surely be wiped out. The narrow road he plans to use could become a death trap.

All available American artillery in the area launch an immediate barrage to soften the German defenses. The thunder of 155mm guns booms across the Belgian countryside as shell after shell lands on German positions in the forests and villages. In all, more than two thousand rounds will fall on the German fighters today.

American soldiers quickly dig foxholes as German fire opens up. A dead soldier lies in the foreground.
[Mary Evans Picture Library]

“We're going to get to those people,” Abrams commands. He waves his arms high in the air, and his tanks churn forward.

In position during the Battle of the Bulge, 15mm “Long Tom” field guns fire shells to a distance of thirteen miles.
[Mary Evans Picture Library]

There is nothing quick about their movement. The Sherman's top speed is just twenty-four miles per hour. Nor is there any level of cover. Thanks to the artillery barrage, the Germans know the Americans are coming. They can now clearly see Abrams and his line of Shermans and half-track armor steering down the hill into Clochimont.

Abrams closes the hatch and conceals himself inside the three-inch-thick steel of the turret as Shermans burst through Clochimont's ancient town square. Nothing must stop them. German artillery explodes all around. One shell knocks down a telephone pole, blocking the road and bringing the column to a lurching halt.

The pole has to be moved.

Abrams and several other men immediately climb out of their tanks. With sniper fire pinging off steel and glancing off the rutted road, they work as a team to swing the heavy log out of the way.

Then it's back into their Shermans. Behind them, a column of infantry secures Clochimont and will stay there until the mopping up is complete. A second column of foot soldiers travels with Abrams's tanks as they move toward the concealed German positions alongside the road through Assenois.

Rather than simply race through the town, Abrams chooses to level it. Every building that might hide a German becomes a target. The Shermans do not stop firing, loading, and shooting their big 75mm and 76mm guns—as many as seven times per minute. Meanwhile, infantrymen ruthlessly hunt down Germans, screaming “Come out!” to induce them to surrender.

The battle in the forests surrounding Assenois will continue long into the night, but by afternoon it is clear that the Americans have carved a small channel through the German lines. The path is less than one quarter of a mile wide, and Germans are poised on both sides, prepared to counterattack and once again close the road. But for now, American tanks are advancing toward Bastogne.

*   *   *

The smoke clears, and the tanks burst out of the forest and into an open field dotted with parachutes. First Lieutenant Charles Boggess opens the turret of Cobra King and lifts himself up through the hatch. Soldiers in uniform crouch in foxholes, their guns aimed his way. “Come here. Come on out,” he shouts. He does not yell in German, hoping to find an American reply.

There is no answer. A tense moment passes. With his head and chest completely exposed to rifle fire, Lieutenant Boggess considers his options.

The Sherman 75mm barrel pivots until it is aimed directly at the foxholes. Private James G. Murphy has already loaded a round, and the gunner, Corporal Milton Dickerman, awaits the order to fire.

“Come on out,” Boggess nervously shouts again.

A lone soldier walks forward.

“I'm Lieutenant Webster, of the 326th Engineers, 101st Airborne Division,” he says. “Glad to see you.”

Cobra King rolls into the heart of the town, followed by a convoy of Sherman tanks.

Bastogne has been relieved.

Patton's audacious plan has succeeded.

*   *   *

The next morning—December 27, 1944—George Patton once again walks to the front of a small Catholic chapel and drops to his knees in prayer. He begins with an air of contrition.

Sir, this is Patton again, and I beg to report complete progress. Sir, it seems to me that You have been much better informed about the situation than I was, because it was that awful weather which I cursed so much which made it possible for the German army to commit suicide. That, Sir, was a brilliant military move, and I bow humbly to Your supreme genius.

Patton writes home to his wife, Beatrice, “The relief of Bastogne is the most brilliant operation we have thus far performed, and is in my opinion the outstanding achievement of this war.

“Now the enemy must dance to our tune, not we to his.”

CHAPTER 15

WASHINGTON, D.C.

JANUARY 20, 1945

I
T IS AN UNPRECEDENTED
FOURTH
inaugural for Franklin Delano Roosevelt. War is not far from any American's mind even on this day.

Wounded soldiers—many on crutches—are among the eight thousand invited guests tromping through harsh weather to witness Franklin Delano Roosevelt's swearing-in as president of the United States. This will be the first inaugural address during wartime since Abraham Lincoln spoke eighty years ago in 1865. Also, this is the first inaugural to be held at the White House, in “the president's backyard,” as the south lawn is known. Finally, this is the first and only time an American president will be sworn in for a fourth term.

Four thousand miles away, General George S. Patton is not paying attention to the inaugural. Patton thinks highly of Roosevelt—and the president fondly calls him “old cavalryman” and “our greatest fighting general, a pure joy”—but Patton is busy directing the mop-up of the battlefields of Luxembourg and Belgium and dealing with military politics.

On February 10, Dwight Eisenhower will once again order Patton and his Third Army to stop their drive east and go on the defensive.

General Eisenhower (second from left) in Bastogne with Generals Bradley and Patton. The man on the far left is Sergeant Jules Grad, an Army reporter.
[Mary Evans Picture Library]

At the same time, Ike selects British Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery to lead the main Allied invasion force that will cross the strategically vital Rhine River. Stretching eight hundred miles down the length of Germany from the North Sea to Switzerland, the Rhine is the last great obstacle between the Allies and the German heartland. By selecting Montgomery over Patton, Eisenhower is almost assuring that the British commander will know the glory of being the first of the Western Allies to reach Berlin.

It is as if Patton's monumental achievement at Bastogne never happened.

“It was rather amusing, though perhaps not flattering, to note that General Eisenhower never mentioned the Bastogne offensive,” he writes of his most recent discussions with Eisenhower. Then, referring to the emergency meeting in Verdun that turned the tide of the Battle of the Bulge, he adds, “Although this was the first time I had seen him since the nineteenth of December—when he seemed much pleased to have me at the critical point.”

At the end of the war, Field Marshal Montgomery (pointing at map) briefs his liaison officers at his headquarters in Germany, April 1945.
[Mary Evans Picture Library]

Even more galling, not just to Patton but also to American soldiers, is that Montgomery has publicly taken credit for the Allied victory at the Battle of the Bulge. Monty insists that it is his British forces of the Twenty-First Army Group, not American GIs, who stopped the German advance.

“As soon as I saw what was happening,” Montgomery stated at a January 7 press conference, “I took steps to ensure that the Germans would never get over the Meuse. I carried out certain movements to meet the threatened danger. I employed the whole power of the British group of armies.”