THIRIMONT BATTLE VITAL IN
REDUCING BULGE
Page 4

The cows, thin and hungry, are wandering around alone amid the rubble in the lonely white streets and the GI's are in the cellars. The Americans have taken a key piece of ground here, and some of these who did it were sitting around, next to the while porcelain kitchen range, talking.

There used to be about a hundred houses in this place The Americans wouldn't give 10 cents for it except that it lies on a ridge commanding two miles of ground beyond, and that is why some of Adolf Hitler's best paratroopers fought 48 hours here to keep the Thirtieth (Old Hickory) division out.

"Eighteen to 25 years old," a colonel said, "and in excellent physical shape.  Any of our men will tell you that these Krauts were as tough as any we ever fought."

The Colonel is Lieut. Col, Ellis Williamson of Raleigh, N. C. who used to teach high school music and who now commands the First Battalion of the 120th Infantry. Its executive officer is Major Chris McCullough of Fayetteville, N. C., who has a bright red handle-bar mustache.

"Excellent marksmen," the Major said. "this is the first time we've ever fought real good German marksmen, and their officers are staying up in line, for a change, too.

While the Colonel and the Major were talking, Robert Scarpello, private first-class from 35-28 99th Street, Corona, L. I., was cooking some beans in can on the stove. A cow was bleating somewhere outside and a Heinie mortar came crumping in.

"I can't hear very well today," the colonel said, when somebody said something about mortars.  "I got pretty close to one yesterday. Couldn't hear a damn thing this morning, but it's getting better now."

There were many things that made this a tough deal for the Americans here. There was the snow, the open ground with the Heinies looking down, and there was this fact that the Germans had the only road zeroed in.

"Every damn one of our radios froze", the Colonel said, "so we had to depend on runners for our communications. We couldn't even bring a jeep up, so that meant that we had to hand-carry everything we needed."

The Major said that one tank which tried to get through a piece of swampy ground that for some reason had not frozen, was mired up to its gun.

"But worst of all were the houses," the Colonel said. "I never saw a town like this before The town is sprawled all over the ridge. Between the houses there is open ground, sometimes 50 yards, sometimes 500 yards.

"Each house was self-supporting," the Colonel said.  "It was mighty. rugged, covering that open ground."

What the Colonel meant was that when the Americans attacked one house, they were under fire from another. Sometimes they were under attack from two or three.

For 24 hours the Americans held ten houses, and no more.  Twice the Germans threw fresh troops and tanks into counter-attacks, and then the infantry in the 10 houses and the artillery behind them stopped the Germans for good.

"That was where you call for artillery support," the Major said.  "They averaged 200 rounds a minute for 30 minutes, and you've got to consider the buildup, which means at the hottest our guys were throwing up to 400 rounds a minute at the peak."

Outside another long Heinie mortar came crumping in. It was close enough to rattle„ muffled, but distinct through the house.

"That"s what we call non-habit forming," the Major said.

"The more you get, the less you want, if you know what I mean."

Here is what I saw from a ringside seat near the river bank beginning yesterday afternoon.

The sky was full of American P-47s and P-38s in the late afternoon, circling over the river.

Suddenly out of the sun three twin-engined jet planes dropped through the fighter screen and leveled off at 2,000 feet, dropping one heavy bomb apiece along with a regular snowfall of tiny anti-personnel bombs not much bigger then .50-caiiber bullets which burst like firecrackers.

Joseph Finnich, jeep driver, a former taxi driver from Allaquip, Pa,, cleared a 6-foot fence by a good three feet on the way to a foxhole. If was a record.

Operating a 50-caliber flak gun in a near-by pit was Cpl. Wiley Willis, Harlan, Ky., who snorted: "Those things are here and gone before you can got a good crack at them."

LEFT EVEN P-47s BEHIND !

An artillery observation and command post (197th Field-Artillery) overlooking the river under command of Lieut. Col. Patrick Seawright, Savannah, Ga., offered a ringside view of the attack. it was down the road a mile and on the way, the jets appeared again in another quick-attack. Even the P-47s in full dive could not get close to them.

Although 500-pound bomb had hit a building in which the command post is located a few hours before, it was functioning calmly and the operation officer, Maj. Gordon Coltrin, San Francisco, explained how the great barrage would continue.

"For the first minute we will cut loose with every gun on quick fuses which catch them outdoors," he said- "After that we send in delayed stuff and go down in the cellars after them."

The command post was set up in a cellar which saved the lives of the men working them since the bomb completely demolished one wing of the building. It was a typically designed Hitler cellar which means reinforced concrete for use in air raids.

In Bright Moonlight

Every room was crowded to capacity for the big assault.  It was a bright moonlit night, almost Mediterranean an quality and the front was quiet in the early evening although the roads were restless with doughboys moving up for the jumpoff. Some are cursing, others were grimly silent and always a cheerful minority was wise-cracking on the way to possible death.

Across the river, every inch of ground had been carefully plotted and in a few hours a rain of death would cover every German position.

It was quiet except for a sporadic shell right up to the opening barrage.

In the cellar, Coltrin gave quiet commands to his computers who relayed them to waiting batteries. The computers handled their lightning job with veteran skill although era peace-time Daniel Novitsky, T-4, Hazelton, Pa., was a time clerk; Charles Ottino, T-4, was a singer, and Austin Steosony, T-5, Rochester, N. Y., and Cpl. James Whitecotton, Auburn, Calif., were students.

Coltrin gave orders and in a few seconds the American front for miles erupted into flame and a mighty roar of sounds.

Tire moonlit land was split by flame and guns. The attic of the building gave a grand view of the river since the bomb had knocked all the states off the root,

SOME FIRES ARE, STARTED.

Across the river some thousand yards away burst flashing red blossoms like some gigantic fireworks show, It spread for miles along the river, Some shells started fires which burned steadily among the deadly twinkle of the bursting shells.

"We sure are giving it to them", declared Lieut. Louis Diskin, Brooklyn, a signal officer, who recently was given a battlefield promotion from sergeant.  "I never saw anything like this before."

Under this steel explosive curtain, thousands of boys waded out into small assault boats and paddled across or dashed over footbridges.

These were followed by amphibians alligators which splashed across with heavier equipment like seagoing dinosaurs.

The barrage then lifted farther and started sweeping back and forth across the front
from German strongpoint to German strongpoint like a giant scythe.

Refuses to Leave His Post

'They spoiled our breakfast yesterday morning and now we are spoiling theirs," grinned Capt. Richard Powell, San Francisco.  Powell was buried in the bomb attack this morning but was dug out with minor scratches and refused to leave his post.

"I bet the Germans don't know what hit them," opined Maj. John Freichs, Memphis, Tenn., executive officer.

This is precisely what we have now done to the enemy.  The 30th Division turned the tables on him yesterday morning by jumping off at dawn after only 15 minutes of artillery preparation.  The Germans thought this was not enough to mean an attack.  So little did they expect it, in fact, that the battalion commander and all his staff were surprised at breakfast.

Five Hundred Prisoners Caught

Five hundred prisoners were taken---a motley collection from several different divisions left to hold while the best troops got back of the Siegfried Line for refitting and regrouping.

From Hindenhausen, 30th Division troops swung down, approaching the villages of Crombach and Braunslauf to dominate the road into St. Vith, which virtually won the battle for the town.

From this road they had observation over a column of vehicles of all types moving bumper to bumper towards the West wall.  Urgent calls for bombers to come and help with the kill produced a reply that they were too busy with kills of their own.

So the artillerymen of the 30th put in their hardest two hours of the war. Not for one single day since D-Day has this division been out of contact with the enemy. But nothing like this degree of contact had ever been made before. Thousand of rounds of artillery fire were put down on the columns in those two hours. The gunners were so exhausted that when dark finally ended their efforts they could barely stand.

This afternoon they are down across the road, moving in toward St. Vith in support oaf the 7th's armor. Nobody has had time yet to count the scorer but it as big enough to make up for the way our men felt when they moved out along the same road before.

It was a stubble-haired captain, one of the last along that road, who told me how that feeling hurt. He left during the night of the 21st after hours of the worst shelling the Germans could throw in.

"God knows what happened to the civilians," she said. "Many had no chance to get out. The whole town seemed to be burning when we left. It was worse than you could imagine an inferno would be."

Since then of course, we have bombed and shelled the town. So have the Germans. From the hills it looks like a mere rubble pile. One soldier said cynically: "I'm getting to look forward to fighting for something else besides brick dust and pine trees."'

That's all there seems to be to fight for in this sector.  Whatever advantage, if any, Churchill finds for the rolling Ardennes as a battleground, it is certainly hell on its inhabitants.

In a lightning attack the Second Bn., 119th Regt., captured Konigshoven to climax a five day, non-stop battle toward the Rhine.

A German officer captured along with 180 of his men told Lt. Leo Bela, of Long Island, N. Y., and the 119th, that the action was the best example of effective infantry tactics that he had seen during his 17 years in the German Army. The officer said that he had fought in Normandy and on one occasion against the 30th Div.

The action that excited the comment from the veteran German soldier came after the second battalion, commanded by Lt. Col. Hal D. McGown, of Ruston, La., had knifed its way through the wilderness of the Hembach forest and captured two German fortified towns - Deubenratf and Hollen.

Nest of Tanks Found

Al Hollen, the battalion ran into a nest of Nazi tanks. Pvt. Raymond O. Butts, of Waynesboro, Pa., fired his bazooka from a second-story window and knocked out a Panther tank. A German officer was standing half way out of the turret flourishing a P-38 pistol. While Butts got the tank, Lt. Thomas Gibbons, of Carbondale, Pa., got the officer.

In the assault on Konigshoven, G Co. commanded by Lt. John R. Faris, of Rock Hill, S. C,, pounced on its garrison so suddenly after an artillery barrage had forced them to take cover that few had time to man their guns.

Gibbons platoon got in fast. The command post group which is usually pretty far back came pounding in on its heels and had to fight for its C. P.