Crossing the Rhine

The 10 Engineer Battalion was an integral part of the 3rd Infantry Division throughout the War, but other Combat Engineering units were called upon to support projects the size of building a pontoon bridge across the Rhine capable of carrying 35 ton Sherman tanks. I thought this story would be appropriate for this site.

Crossing the Rhine

In mid March of 1945, as the 3rd Division prepared to attack the Siegfried Line in Germany, my Company Commander told me I was eligible for a three day pass in Paris under an R&R program that I didn't even know existed. I was assigned as replacement platoon leader of the I & R platoon when my predecessor was KIA on a recon for the Volturno River crossing in Italy. I was delighted and wasted no time in accepting his offer. I was authorized two days travel time each way and was allowed to take my jeep and driver. PFC Steele and I stopped at Service Company to pick up some clean clothes and headed west, arriving in Paris by mid-afternoon of the second day. We checked in at the leave center, where the Army impounded our jeep so it wouldn't be stolen, and we were assigned to hotels on the Place de la Concorde.

I had a wonderful time in Paris and saw all the sights despite not having the jeep to get around. I learned to use the Paris subway which was highly efficient, went everywhere and was easy to use, particularly with French civilians standing by to help at the first sign of bewilderment by an American soldier. The only problem was that the subway stopped running at 10:00 P. M. and aside from walking, there was no transportation available other than taxis which were very expensive. The only real sour note for me was that I saw more French soldiers in Paris than I had seen in the Colmar Pocket, which was supposedly their sector of fighting.

Early on the morning of the scheduled return day, I reported back to the leave center where I was reunited with my driver and jeep and we headed east to rejoin the Regiment. We made much better time on the way back being more familiar with the road net. Also we were heading in the same direction as the Red Ball Express 6x6's going to the forward supply dumps with ammo, fuel, rations and with top priority on the roads. By late afternoon, it became apparent that we could make it back in one day so we pushed on and found Headquarters Company in Frankenthal, Germany by dusk.

I reported to my C.O. and told him I was back a day early and why. "Good," he said, "I have a job for you. We're crossing the Rhine tonight. H hour is 0230 and we'll be crossing about 200 yards downstream of the blown autobahn bridge." He pointed it out on a map. "I want you to take your jeep and reconnoiter a route down to the river bank suitable for tanks. Then come back here and there will be four amphibious DD Shermans waiting to follow you down to their I. P. The assault troops are going to need that armored support badly."

I stifled the urge to tell him I was still on leave. I needed no reminder of the devastating losses we suffered a few weeks earlier when Major Duncan's 2nd Battalion attacked the town of Utweiler without armored support. So I settled for a simple "Yes sir." and went looking for my driver PFC Steele to break the news to him.

We traversed about two or three miles of perfectly flat farming country between Frankenthal and the Rhine River, which was interlaced with a few dirt roads used by farm equipment. It was pitch dark of course, but we had no trouble finding our way because we could guide on the slightly elevated autobahn leading to the blown bridge and Steele's night vision was superb. We rode right down to the river bank. It was about a four foot drop to the water, the river was almost 400 yards wide, and the water was flowing at about 8 MPH. Visibility was unlimited except for the darkness. What I remember most is the absolute silence. The only faint sound was the soft gurgling of the water against the river bank and the muffled sound of the jeep's idling engine. The autobahn bridge on our right was silhouetted against the sky, a huge and very high single span suspension bridge with a section of roadway missing in the very center. I scanned the other side of the river looking for defenses but saw nothing but more flat ground with no vegetation or structures. If there were anti-tank guns over there, (and there surely were), they had to be under the far side bridge ramp which would provide both overhead protection and concealment for the crews. I was no tactician, but I wondered if the planners of this operation had planned it from a map or had come down here to look at the terrain. I would have moved the crossing site another 200-300 yards downstream, not nearly so close to what appeared to be an obvious enemy strong point.

It was between 10:00 and 11:00 P. M. when we turned around and made our way back to Frankenthal. We saw no one and nothing in the way of military preparations on the way to the river and back which surprised me. The four DD Shermans were waiting in Frankenthal. I talked to the tank platoon leader and he showed me the accordion or bellows-like rubberized canvas surrounded by a steel framework to lift it into place so the tank would float. There were two propellers on the back end for propulsion and steering. I remember thinking it looked like a real "Rube Goldberg" and I tried to visualize the 35 tons dropping down that four foot bank into the 8 MPH water.

The tanks started their engines and the roar was deafening! They started forward behind us in column and the clanking of the tracks was fearsome! I remember thinking that when we get down near the river bank, all that noise would alert every Kraut within miles. All hell would surely break loose!

And so it was! Our jeep was about 20 feet from the river bank when the first 88mm shell came streaking across the river from beneath the bridge ramp and hit the lead tank causing it to burst into flames right behind us. As the burning tank lit up the area, more shells followed, focusing on the remaining tanks. Steele and I reflexively dove out of the jeep and crawled into the nearest depression in the ground which appeared to be a bomb crater from an earlier air attack on the bridge. We felt reasonably safe there until artillery shells began to burst overhead (air bursts). I remember thinking at the time that it had to be "friendly fire" falling short, because every shell seemed to burst at the same height indicating use of proximity fuses (posit fuses) which I don't think the Krauts had at that time. But it mattered not who was firing it. We had no overhead cover in the bomb crater, so we climbed out and made a desperate run for the bridge ramp about 150 yards away. We waited there until things quieted down and then walked back to Hq. Company abandoning the jeep on the river bank. I heard later that the first tank had been destroyed, two others had their flotation gear perforated and the fourth was missing.

When we got back to the CP, I noticed for the first time that there was a lot of pain in my upper left arm. I peeled off my field jacket, pile liner, wool sweater and wool shirt and found that the upper arm from shoulder to elbow was completely discolored in blues, purples, greens, reds and yellows and it was swollen and throbbing. I walked over to the aid station where I was told that I had probably been hit by a spent shell fragment but it had not broken the skin because the blow was cushioned by my heavy layered clothing. No treatment was necessary. It would go away in a few days. I still wondered whether that artillery fire was enemy or short "friendly" fire until I read the crossing account in the Regimental History years later. It says, "The DD, or "floating" tanks of Company C, 756th Tank Battalion had moved up during the artillery barrage before H Hour but one was hit by enemy fire, set ablaze and destroyed. Two others developed maintenance trouble." That answered my question but raised two more. Why didn't someone tell the two guys leading the parade in an open jeep what time the artillery barrage was scheduled to start and was the "maintenance trouble" holes in the rubberized flotation gear from the "friendly" artillery fire? I heard that three more amphibious tanks came forward after the enemy anti-tank guns were silenced. They floated across the Rhine, but two slid backward into the water while trying to climb the far bank and were lost with their crews. I have read that most of these DDs were given to the British. That was a splendid idea which could only have been improved upon by giving them to the Germans. The 7th Infantry had seven of them attached for the crossing. One DD tank made it across the river. Three were destroyed along with their crews. And three were damaged and couldn't enter the water.

I had little time to think about it because my CO was waiting for me with another assignment. Engineers had built (or were building) a pontoon bridge across the Rhine at Worms which was ten miles north where the 30th Infantry was crossing. I was to get another jeep and lead four conventional Sherman tanks north to the new bridge, cross the Rhine and then lead them ten miles south through the enemy held east bank to join the 7th Infantry bridgehead, all during the remaining hours of darkness. I had several more questions, but I remembered Utweiler and my leave in Paris and therefor kept them to myself. I accomplished the mission before daylight and felt good about having helped to get armored support to the rifle companies which were meeting stiff resistance in the battle for Sandhofen.

In later years, my buddy J3rdInf, who was a rifleman in the third battalion which crossed on rubber assault rafts, told me they were in a fierce fight for Sandhofen on the far bank, when the conventional tanks I had led across the Bailey bridge at Worms, joined them and helped in defeating the enemy.

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NORMANDY, FRANCE (June 6, 1944) Three hundred French civilians were killed and thousands more were wounded today in the first hours of America's invasion of continental Europe. Casualties were heaviest among women and children. Most of the French casualties were the result of artillery fire from American ships attempting to knock out German fortifications prior to the landing of hundreds of thousands of U.S. troops. Reports from a makeshift hospital in the French town of St. Mere Eglise said the carnage was far worse than the French had anticipated, and that reaction against the American invasion was running high. "We are dying for no reason, "said a Frenchman speaking on condition of anonymity. "Americans can't even shoot straight. I never thought I'd say this, but life was better under Adolph Hitler."

The invasion also caused severe environmental damage. American troops, tanks, trucks and machinery destroyed miles of pristine shoreline and thousands of acres of ecologically sensitive wetlands. It was believed that the habitat of the spineless French crab was completely wiped out, thus threatening the species with extinction. A representative of Greenpeace said his organization, which had tried to stall the invasion for over a year, was appalled at the destruction, but not surprised. "This is just another example of how the military destroys the environment without a second thought," said Christine Moanmore. "And it's all about corporate greed."

Contacted at his Manhattan condo, a member of the French government-in-exile who abandoned Paris when Hitler invaded, said the invasion was based solely on American financial interests. "Everyone knows that President Roosevelt has ties to 'big beer'," said Pierre LeWimp. "Once the German beer industry is conquered, Roosevelt's beer cronies will control the world market and make a fortune."

Administration supporters said America's aggressive actions were based in part on the assertions of controversial scientist Albert Einstein, who sent a letter to Roosevelt speculating that the Germans were developing a secret weapon -- a so-called "atomic bomb". Such a weapon could produce casualties on a scale never seen before, and cause environmental damage that could last for thousands of years. Hitler has denied having such a weapon and international inspectors were unable to locate such weapons even after spending two long weekends in Germany. Shortly after the invasion began, reports surfaced that German prisoners had been abused by American soldiers. Mistreatment of Jews by Germans at their so-called "concentration camps" has been rumored, but so far this remains unproven.

Several thousand Americans died during the first hours of the invasion, and French officials are concerned that the uncollected corpses will pose a public-health risk. "The Americans should have planned for this in advance," they said. "It's their mess, and we don't intend to help clean it up."

Here is an article from the latest issue of Military Magazine. One of the ones that we subscribe to. When I saw it, I thought of our European friend Misha, who lives in Serbia. I sent a link to him and know he will find it fascinating.

http://historynet.com/wwii/blcivilwarinbalkans/

General Patton

Pride and Confidence

Pride in self starts with pride in appearance.

Do not be afraid to fail.

Never take counsel of your fears.

Decision Making

Grab’m by the nose and kick’m in the pants!

If everyone is thinking alike, no one is thinking.

In the long run, it is what we do not say that will destroy us.

Victory and Success

The way to win is to never lose!

Never fight a battle unless you will gain by winning.

Success is not getting on top; it’s how you bounce on the bottom.

Life and Death

Death can be more exciting than life.

Live for something rather than die for nothing.

Fear kills more people than death.

40 & Eights - Forty men or 8 horses

("They oughta hire a homme to clean up after them chevaux.")

My next encounter with "40 & 8's" came two years later when War was over and I was finally eligible to go home. I was no longer the green second lieutenant that had been put ashore in Casablanca. I was a tough, cynical, experienced, and proud Infantryman who took no xxxx from anybody! I left the 7th Infantry on December 1, 1945 with an equally cynical 1st Lt. named George Rebovich. We hoped and expected to be home for Christmas. But the Army moved slowly and we spent our second miserable Christmas overseas in a redeployment unit (84th Inf. Div.) in Eberbach, Germany..

About a week later, our battalion was trucked to a nearby rail yard where our transportation to Le Havre had finally arrived. It was bitterly cold, snowing and very windy. We were each handed a card with our rail car number on it. Rebovich and I stood side by side, shivering, and stared at a mirror image of the "40 and 8's" we had ridden in North Africa two years earlier. Mirror image because they were now pointed west instead of east. And now the weather was sub-freezing, the "40 & 8's" were snow covered, the doors were wide open and there was no heat of any kind. The C rations and water were no doubt frozen solid. In the distance, up behind the engine, were the two Army Transportation Corps Pullman cars bathed in clouds of steam. The "40 & 8's" stood cold and forbidding. Was this the best the Army and our Country could do for us after what we had been through?

Rebovich turned to me and masterfully summed up our anger, frustration and despair in three four letter words of Army vernacular: "XXXX this XXXX"! And with that, he and I strode to the head of the train and up the forward stairway of the first Pullman car. (Clearly marked OFF LIMITS). The seats had been removed from the front half of the car and we were standing in a carpeted office. The lone occupant, a Transportation Corps Captain in his class A uniform, sat behind a stack of papers on his desk. And it was warm! The REB (Rear Echelon Bastard) was startled by our presence but recovered some of his poise and said, "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

Rebovich and I wore the field uniform of wool O.D., combat boots, combat jacket with the well known 3rd Division patch and Combat Infantry Badge. Over the jacket, we wore our web belts with holstered .45 caliber pistols, trench knives, and ammo pouches and we still wore our camouflaged steel helmets. We hadn't had a change of clothes in a month and those we wore had been slept in because it was so cold. We must have looked like Bill Mauldin's Willie and Joe, except for our scratched and tarnished insignia, crossed rifles and silver bars.

During the Occupation, Rebovich had been our liaison officer with the Russians. I had absolute confidence in his ability to forcefully state our case and in more colorful language than I. We focused on this Rear Echelon Bastard and his branch of the Army as being responsible for our not getting home for Christmas.

"I'll tell you what you can do for us," Rebovich replied. "You can make room for us up here in this nice warm car for the rest of this trip. We've been freezing our ass in wet foxholes for two XXXXing years, and by God, we've had enough!" His statement of our case was delivered with just the right blend of determination and controlled rage, with a strong implication of "or else." I was proud of him!

"All right," replied the REB. "Why don't you make yourselves comfortable in one of the compartments in the rear half of the car and I'll show you where we sleep and eat after we get underway. The compartment was comfortable and roomy. It had two fold down beds and upholstered bench seats and it was warm! When his three sergeants had come back aboard, after having loaded the 800 infantrymen into the "40 & 8's," we got underway. The friendly Captain came back to our compartment, welcomed us aboard, showed us how to put the bunks down, showed us the restroom and told us that the second Pullman was equipped with a small kitchen and a G.I. cook. We played cards, told war stories, and awakened next morning to the smell of fresh coffee and frying bacon.

We felt bad about the 800 dogfaces freezing in the "40 & 8's" behind us, but we rationalized that there was nothing we could do for them under the circumstances and besides, they weren't our men. Had they been the men who fought under our command during the war, we would have been back there suffering with them to offer what meager comfort and encouragement we could. But after two pleasant days and nights, we arrived at Camp Philip Morris near Le Havre where we were billeted in heated Nissan huts for about ten more days. Finally, our grubby little Liberty ship arrived and was ready to sail. Eleven seasick days later, we arrived in New York harbor on a bitterly cold and windy January winter day. Every man was on deck, eyes searching for that first sight of home. When the Statue of Liberty came into view, there was hardly a dry eye among us.

P.S.

In 1998, I was able to locate ex-Lt. Rebovich through the 7th Infantry Association and I sent him a copy of this story. He telephoned me the same day he received it. He said, "I read your story about the 40 & 8's, handed it to my wife and said, Read this!" She did and then replied, "That's the same story you've been telling us for 50 years."

"Right," he replied, "but now maybe you'll believe it!"

He then added, "My son graduates from college tomorrow and we're having a big family gathering afterward. I'm going to make everybody in the family read this story!"

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