Winter Breakout

It was a freezing cold December day in the woods of the Elsenborn Ridge in the Ardennes forest of Belgium. Christmas was a few days away, yet to 36 year old T5 Herb Bean, Christmas was the furthest thing from his mind. He was freezing cold, his feet were perpetually wet and numb and he was afraid. His unit, the 394 Infantry Regiment of the 99th Infantry Division had spent the last seven days in constant fighting with the German 277th Volksgrenadier Division and the 12th SS Panzer Division. Herb had seen things in the last few days that few men would ever see or would ever want to see in a lifetime. He felt like a changed man in many ways and he hoped and prayed that he would live through the next few days.

The airburst artillery was the worst. The German 88mm shells were designed to explode at treetop level which would create horrific wood splinters that could tear a human body into pieces. The only defense the men had was to dig in and cover their foxholes with logs from felled trees. Even that was not enough if a shell were to land directly into ones hole. “We were all scared of the 88’s” Herb said. Even when using a slit trench to relieve oneself was risky. “Suddenly, the 88’s were coming down on us and the bottom of that slit trench looked pretty good to me at that point.” Herbs rushed to his foxhole rather than hunker down in the frozen excrement and withstood another bombardment. The noise was deafening and the concussion from exploding shells could be felt in one’s chest. The men tried to make themselves as small as possible by crawling into their helmets. After the barrage lifted, the men crawled from their holes to a blighted land. Shattered trees lay about the forest floor and the air smelled of cordite and freshly cut wood. Wounded men screamed in pain as the medics attended to them and Herb shivered in his thin cotton field jacket and with his ears ringing and partially deaf from the explosions, said a thankful prayer that he had made it through another attack.

At age 36, Herb was the old man of the platoon. Most of the men were in their early to mid 20’s. He was already a married man and worked as a shipping clerk in the city of Newburport. He was drafted, given a paltry six weeks of basic training and sent to the war. He stayed with an English family when his unit was stationed in the UK before heading over to the ETO. He arrived on Omaha Beach months after the initial invasion and was trucked into Belgium in time for the German offensive in December of 1944. His division, the 99th, was known as the Battle Babies due to their inexperience. They were green troops that suddenly found themselves thrown against the battle hardened panzer grenadiers who attempted to roll right through them. Much to the surprise and consternation of the German troops, they were stopped cold by the “Battle Babies” of the 99th. Supported by accurate artillery fire in the form of mortars and heavy guns, the Germans suffered catastrophic losses. They simply could not push the Americans off the Elsenborn Ridge thanks to the massive concentration of heavy firepower.

In what would become known as the Battle of the Bulge, the German advance through the Ardennes was now stalled. This was not supposed to happen, according to the German high command. The attack was planned for months and relied heavily on surprise and good supply lines to succeed. The initial attack did indeed catch the Americans off guard which resulted in town of Bastogne being surrounded and hammered by the Germans in a type of siege warfare. Unusually cold and snowy weather also hampered the ability of the armies to maneuver about. The Germans in particular had a difficult time in the thick woods of the Ardennes. Their tanks were meant more for open terrain rather than the dark thickets they now found themselves in. In addition, low cloud cover and fog prevented any type of air support from the Americans, which made the German’s job a little bit easier. Over in Bastogne, the 101st and 10th Armored did their best to hold on despite rapidly dwindling supplies of food, medicine and ammunition. At one point, the artillery was down to less than ten rounds per gun. The outlook looked grim…..the allies needed a miracle.

That miracle came on December 23rd. The sky over Bastogne and the Ardennes started to clear. American supply planes started to drop much needed ammo, food, blankets, medicine and a team of volunteer surgeons flew in on a glider to establish an operating room for critically wounded soldiers. In addition, P-47 Thunderbolts flew combat operations against the German troops and tanks to great effect. Up on the Elsenborn Ridge, the supplies started to trickle in……ammunition and warm clothing for the frostbitten troops. “Our boots were the worst” said Herb “All of us had frostbite on our feet, we simply couldn’t get warm!” Around this time, Herb suffered a minor heart attack due to the incredible stress from the nonstop attacks. “They sent me down to see the battalion doctor. He looked me over, listened to my chest and had me do a series of jumping jacks. When I didn’t pass out, he sent me back to the front line……that’s how short handed we were.”

Fighting in the Ardennes would continue through late January, 1945, but finally the German were now fighting within their own borders. Herb recalled looking up one day upon hearing a low rumble and hundreds upon hundreds of Army Air Corp bombers; B-17’s were flying overheard on a daylight bombing raid over Germany. “Everybody cheered, we all knew that the war would be over soon and that we were going to win, it was quite a feeling.” Herb made it through the end of the war and saw first hand the evil of the Nazi regime when his unit liberated a sub-camp of Dachau concentration camp. Later, while serving with the 1st Infantry Division, he would serve as a courtroom guard at Nuremberg, where the worst of the criminals of the Third Reich were put on trial for their crimes. Herb returned home to Newburyport in December of 1946 and got on with the rest of his life. He rarely spoke of his service in the Second World War and often seemed reluctant to discuss it at all. Herb Bean, my Grandfather, passed away in 1999 at the age of 91.