Vernon wanted to keep the puppy as a mascot. I told him that the last thing we needed was a puppy to take care of when we were trying to catch up with CCB. We decided that the French would return to the village soon because the Germans had been gone for at least six hours. Civilians normally hid in the woods until the fighting was over, then returned to their homes to see what they could recover. With a look of disappointment, Vernon put the puppy on the ground and gave him a pat, and we took off in a cloud of dust.
Looking closely at the rubble in the streets for signs of tank tracks and examining the map, I finally was able to determine which road CCB had taken. We got on the highway, and Vernon accelerated the Jeep to top speed and drove in stony silence.
About a quarter mile out of town, I happened to look in the rearview mirror and saw a small object bounding down the middle of the road behind us. My resistance melted. “Vernon, stop the damn Jeep!” I yelled. The puppy, which had gathered considerable momentum, got a few feet from the Jeep, then cleared the back end in a single leap. Vernon reached into the air and snagged it like a forward pass.
“Well, I guess we do need a macot,” I replied as Vernon cuddled the puppy, “but he’ll be your responsibility.”
“Don’t worry, Lieutenant. I’ll take good care of him.”
The “he” turned out to be a “she,” and Vernon named her Bitch. He put her in the backseat on the cushion next to my map box, and we took off again.
We encountered no more Americans on the road toward Mayenne. I realized that we were in the area known as “the void,” somewhere between the combat command and the following mop-up elements. I knew that CCB was moving fast, and the faster it moved the greater this void became. I did not know whether Mayenne was in our hands or whether CCB had bypassed it and gone ahead; in any event, I did not want to go into Mayenne after dark.
It was beginning to get dark, and I thought it best to find a place to bivouac for the night. We saw a small field on the left of the road with a dry creek running through it. Poplar trees and heavy hedges flanked both sides of the creek. We decided this would be a good place to stop.
Vernon found an opening in the hedges where wagons had crossed the little stream, and he drove the Jeep through the opening into the creek bed. It was flat and sandy, about ten feet wide and four feet below the level of the field. This made for perfect camouflage; the entire Jeep and all our equipment were below ground level. Someone walking past would not be able to see us.
I laid out our bedrolls and put an M1 rifle on each side. We decided to eat K rations; it was late and we were both too tired to deal with our mess kits. The K rations came in a small waterproof box and were of three types: breakfast, lunch, and supper. The breakfast box contained a small can of scrambled eggs and bacon bits pressed into a patty, which was tasty once you got used to it. Lunch consisted of a can of Cheddar cheese, and supper was a can of potted meat. All the meals contained Waverley crackers, which had lots of protein.
There was also coffee, powdered milk, sugar, cigarettes, and toilet paper.
Vernon gave Bitch a can of potted meat. She was ravenous and consumed it in no time. We decided not to build a fire, because it was getting late. We drank water instead of coffee. One thing I wasn’t going to do was light up a cigarette and get in the bedroll; I had learned my lesson in the Bois du Hommet.
I suppose all soldiers develop certain hang-ups after they’ve been in combat for a while; I’ve had my share of them. Vernon’s main hang-up was that the Germans might sneak up on us at night and throw a hand grenade into the foxhole. It was easy enough to assure him that this was highly improbable when we were with the combat command inside the security line, but when we were in the open and on our own, the situation was different.
Suddenly, 1 began to appreciate the dog. Bitch seemed to be extremely intelligent and would do what we told her. She had an almost instinctive understanding of the situation, and she fitted in perfectly with our sleeping arrangements. Vernon placed her between our bedrolls; she snuggled against him and we all dozed off.
I woke with a nudge from Vernon.
“Lieutenant, somebody’s in those bushes on the other side of the bank.”
Bitch had apparently heard the noise first, but instead of barking she nuzzled Vernon to wake him.
I strained my ears, listening intently; suddenly, I heard a crackling noise as if someone took a step in dry grass. 1 reached under my combat jacket, which I was using for a pillow, and took out my .45 pistol. I slowly pulled back the bolt and engaged the cartridge in the chamber. Vernon took the safety off his M1 carbine.
There was another crackling noise. If it was a German patrol, there would probably be several of them and they would be making more noise than this. If it was two or three stragglers who had seen us come into the field earlier, they could be trying to bushwhack us. On the other hand, it was dark and they probably couldn’t see us as well as we could see them.
After waiting some time with bated breath, we heard no further noises. I was beginning to think it was just a rotten limb falling. I whispered to Vernon that I didn’t think the noise was anything unusual, trying to convince him and myself at the same time. I lay back down with my pistol at my side and was just beginning to doze off when Vernon nudged me again. As I emerged out of a semisleep, I could definitely hear a crackling noise. But then the noises came further and further apart, then ceased altogether. Exhausted, we both finally drifted off to sleep.
When I awakened it was barely daylight. Bitch was snuggled against Vernon; her muzzle rested on his shoulder blade, and he had his right arm around her. Lying there in the early morning light, Vernon looked like a little boy snuggling his teddy bear. I was glad we had kept the dog. What a terrible thing war does; it takes young men in the flower of their youth, it demeans them, it humiliates them, it destroys the last vestige of dignity. It sometimes kills or horribly maims them. Those who survive are never quite the same.
I had gotten out the K rations and loaded my bedroll and the two rifles back into the Jeep when Vernon awakened. “Lieutenant, did you ever figure out what was making that noise?”
“No, Vernon, I didn’t hear a thing after I finally dozed off the last time.”
Vernon got up and stretched, then walked about fifty feet downstream in the dry creek bed to take a leak. He suddenly called out, “Lieutenant, I found it.”
A large goose and her goslings had a nest in the high weeds on the embankment. Apparently, every time she ruffled her wings, they made a crackling noise. She appeared to be asleep and we did not disturb her.
We took off down the road and soon found CCB maintenance company just west of Pré en Pail.
General Rose Assumes Command
All of the division’s units reverted back to division control on August 12 under our new division commander, Gen. Maurice Rose. General Rose had led a combat command in the 2d Armored Division and had an outstanding record in North Africa as well as in Normandy.
Combat Command B had taken the brunt of the heavy fighting in Mortain and suffered severe casualties. The command’s four task forces, plus elements of the 2d Armored Division and additional infantry, engaged three German panzer divisions and one German infantry division in a bitter battle around Mortain. With the timely assistance of the Ninth Air Force and the RAF, they finally brought the Germans to a halt and turned them back, though not without severe losses. Task Force Hogan alone lost twenty-three tanks plus a number of personnel. The Germans also suffered severe losses. The 116th Panzer Division lost approximately half its strength. The 85th Division was severely depleted, as were the 2d Panzer and 17th SS Panzergrenadier Divisions. The objective of preventing the Germans from breaking through to Avranches and splitting the First and Third Armies in two had been accomplished.