With the ever-increasing vehicle casualties, it became obvious that we had to forget the regulations and adopt a radically new procedure. All of the ordnance logistic training for the invasion of Europe had been based on the assumption that our vehicular casualties, particularly the tanks, would be much lower than what we had encountered in initial combat, so the requirements for ordnance spare parts for armor divisions were grossly inadequate. Although the maintenance battalion had fifty-four two-and-a-half-ton GMC trucks devoted entirely to spare parts, plus a number of other trucks in the maintenance companies of the various armored units, they were not enough. The initial determination of spare parts for an armored division was based primarily on information from line officers in the armored units. If Patton had been so completely wrong about the heavy tank, it was little wonder that the line officers underestimated the combat requirement for spare parts.
Given these assumptions, the procedure was that all repairs were to be made with spare parts available to unit maintenance companies, plus those additional parts carried by the ordnance maintenance company attached to the combat command. Any vehicles that could not be repaired, due to lack of spare parts, were to be left in place, not cannibalized but left at the VCP for evacuation later to the army base ordnance companies.
It became immediately obvious to the maintenance people in the field that it would be a disaster to follow the directive not to cannibalize certain tanks. They would have to do so in order to repair others and get them in operation quickly. The maintenance personnel decided to scrap the regulations and get on with the job of repairing the most vehicles in the least possible time and returning them to combat. One tank in combat was a lot better than two on the dead line waiting for spare parts. Even doubling the number of spare parts trucks available would have been insufficient to handle the tanks damaged in combat.
In addition, there were insufficient resources to handle the administrative paperwork involved in finding spare parts. It was apparent that the damaged vehicles were the best source of parts. Thus, if a tank received a penetration in the turret ring (the point where the turret was attached to the hull), both the turret and the hull would be damaged beyond repair in the field. The tank would immediately be scrapped, and the power train, the engine, the gun, and any other parts would become available for repairing other tanks. These decisions were made at the lowest level by the ordnance platoon leaders. This was as it should have been, and it worked to the advantage of the entire division.
Because we were operating on “double British summertime” (seven hours ahead of eastern standard time), it did not get dark until around 2330, so we had about eighteen hours of daylight in which to work. In addition, some of the maintenance crews erected shelter halves over the back ends of the tanks so they could repair the engines after dark. They worked around the clock and caught little catnaps whenever they could. They felt that this was the least they could do to support their comrades in the tank and infantry units who were on the line all the time.
We had to be extremely careful working under tarpaulins after dark, because the slightest glimmer of light could be seen from miles away by the low-flying German aircraft, which always came after dark. They would reconnoiter our ground positions, particularly in the rear areas where maintenance work was going on; if they saw any signs of activity, they would drop butterfly bombs.
Toward the end of the day, Major Johnson, Captain Roquemore, and I got together to prepare a list of all the vehicles and other ordnance work in the VCP. This list included any spare parts that we would need from the battalion, plus a list of all the vehicles that were damaged beyond repair and had been cannibalized. We also got a list from the T2 recovery crews of any tanks and other vehicles that had been damaged beyond repair and had not been recovered. This list included the “W” numbers of the vehicles, the map coordinates, and, if possible, a brief description of the damage. From this list, I prepared our first combat loss report, which contained information considered too sensitive to send by radio. One of the primary responsibilities of the ordnance liaison officer was to deliver this list personally to the maintenance battalion in the rear.
It was after midnight and completely dark by the time Smith and I started down the road toward Isigny to deliver my combat loss report. Under these conditions we traveled without any light, not even the little cat eye blackout lights. Fortunately, there was an MP at the bridge to see that my Jeep was in the center of the road so the wheels would get on the temporary treads put across the hole in the bridge.
After leaving the bridge, we headed toward the intersection of the Isigny-Airel Road, about a mile and a half away. There were no other vehicles in sight, so we stayed in the center of the road as best we could. As we approached the next road junction, we were signaled to stop by two MPs, who asked where we were going. I told them we were going back to division trains.
The MP corporal in charge said he’d been instructed to warn all vehicles that the Germans had dropped paratroopers between this point and Isigny. The last convoy had come from Isigny about forty-five minutes before; however, this was before the report about the paratroopers. Any convoys returning to Isigny would come in a random fashion, he said.
We decided to wait about half an hour to see if another convoy was coming along. In the meantime, Smith and I discussed what to do. If there were German paratroopers along this road, it would seem that their first objective would be to capture American vehicles for transportation. They would probably try to block the road and ambush us to capture our Jeep intact. I had previously had the rear seat of the Jeep removed and a plywood box installed to carry my combat loss report and other ordnance documents and maps. I kept a thermite grenade next to the box. In the event of impending capture, I planned to pull the pin on the grenade to set all of the documents on fire, then abandon the Jeep.
After waiting a little while longer and seeing no signs of a convoy, I decided we had to take a chance and run the gauntlet—the name we had given the area between division forward and division rear—which varied in width from a few miles to maybe forty to fifty miles. The distance from this road junction to the battalion area in Isigny was about ten miles. The road was straight and narrow and had trees on both sides.
We drove in the middle of the road at top speed, which for the Jeep was sixty-five miles an hour even with the governor taken off. To estimate the center of the road, Smith looked up at an angle of approximately thirty degrees to see the sky between the trees. I looked straight ahead down the center of the road and at the shoulders to see if I could detect anything. After a while, our eyes became accustomed to the darkness, and we were amazed at what we could see even without moonlight. We were no longer concerned about meeting any American trucks on the road, only about the possibility of meeting Germans.
After we had gone about five miles, I saw a light piercing the darkness approximately a quarter mile away.
The light was arcing slowly up and down, similar to a railroad signal. Smith slowed down. At the same time, I removed the safety on the .30-caliber carbine, which I had previously taken out of the rack on the windshield.
We knew that no American soldier could be dumb enough to shine a flashlight in this area; we would not even dare light a cigarette on the beach at night without first getting into a covered foxhole. It must be Germans.
Fortunately, we had rehearsed what we might do in a situation like this. Smith would slow down. If he could see clearly that the road was not blocked, I would open fire and he would accelerate as rapidly as possible to try to get away. If the road appeared to be blocked, we would hit the ditch on the right side of the road, I’d pull the pin on the thermite grenade, and we would jump over the hedgerow and try to get away.