With both American tank destroyers out of action and large enemy infantry and armored forces moving on his position, Murphy realized that the remnants of his company could hold out no longer. He ordered his men to fall back to safety deep in the forest while he stayed behind, directing artillery fire. Private First Class Irving Kelly was reluctant to leave Murphy. I remember being mad as hell when Murph told us to go back, Kelly recalled. We wanted to stay and fight by his side. I remember vividly that Sergeant Harold Corl and myself were the last two to leave. Due to a technical problem with forward observer 1st Lt. Walter Weispfenning’s radio, Murphy remained at his post, directing artillery fire over the field telephone. It was not a heroic act, said Murphy. I figured if one man could do the job, why risk the lives of others.

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He ordered fire directly on top of the advancing Germans, communicating target instructions to 1st Battalion headquarters while at the same time shooting at the enemy infantry with his carbine. I loved that artillery, Murphy recalled. I could see Kraut soldiers disappear in clouds of smoke and snow, hear them scream and shout, yet they came on and on as though nothing would stop them. The Germans had advanced to within 50 yards of Murphy when a nervous lieutenant from battalion headquarters inquired about the enemy’s position. Murphy replied, If you just hold the phone a minute, I’ll let you talk to one of the bastards.

After exhausting his carbine ammunition, Murphy was preparing to fall back when the .50-caliber machine gun on the turret of the burning tank destroyer caught his eye. Soon the fire would reach the vehicle’s fuel and ammunition, but Murphy knew the gun was his only chance to stop the Germans. He climbed aboard the tank destroyer and began spraying the big .50-caliber at the enemy. Private First Class Anthony V. Abramski later reported, I saw Lt. Murphy climb on top of the burning tank destroyer while bursts of machine pistol fire from the advancing infantry battered against the hull and tread.

Murphy knew that the .50-caliber would have no effect on the tanks, so he concentrated his fire on the advancing infantry. I would not waste my ammunition on something that direct hits by 90mm shells could not slow down, he said. I concentrated on the foot soldiers, believing that the tanks would not advance very far without them. Private Charles Owen, one of the 18 men left in Company B, watched in awe as Murphy raked the oncoming enemy. Boy, he was effective on that .50-caliber, said Owen. I don’t know whether he’d ever had .50-caliber training or not. But the Germans were deathly afraid of .50-calibers; they had armor-piercing capabilities.

Another observer, Sergeant Elmer Brawley, who witnessed the engagement from the fringe of the woods, added, The German infantrymen got within 10 yards of Lieutenant Murphy, who killed them in the draws, in the meadows, in the woods–wherever he saw them. Murphy’s deadly fire on the supporting infantry eventually forced the tanks to return to an area in front of the woods. These tanks added their murderous fire to that of the Kraut artillery and small-arms fire that showered the lieutenant’s position, Brawley said.

The billowing smoke from the tank destroyer, combined with the constant roar of battle, prevented the Germans from detecting where the machine-gun fire was coming from. According to Murphy, With all the crackle of firearms and big shells exploding all around, they probably didn’t even hear my machine-gun fire, much less guess its point of origin. Although the smoke provided some concealment, it also interfered with Murphy’s visibility, which allowed some enemy soldiers to creep up unnoticed on his right flank. He wrote: When I first saw them, they had stopped in the drainage ditch directly in front of me and were frantically discussing something. I pressed the trigger and slowly traversed the barrel–the bodies slumped in a stack position.

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