Alger joined Company E in maneuvering from the west edge of Sidi Salem to engage KGr. Gerhardt, which was moving steadily toward them from the north. Winkler’s 1st Platoon caught four German panzers moving through a cactus patch and knocked them out. Two additional enemy tanks were later destroyed in the same position. The balance of Winkler’s tanks opened fire from the cover of the village, with the 3rd Platoon destroying eight enemy tanks. One of Company D’s tanks was engaged by seven panzers. The outgunned American tank was able to destroy one of its tormentors before it was wrecked.

As he watched the action unfold, Wolff’s mind raced. When would the order to advance be given? The southern force had already broken through the American perimeter. Suddenly, his radio crackled with the order: ‘4th Company, attack!’

Wolff joined his group in a dash across the broad plain, and they were soon within 2,500 yards of the Americans. The Germans were mystified that the Americans seemed oblivious to their advance–not one of their turrets turned to face Wolff’s advancing armor.

Wolff’s men kept estimating the distance to the white stars, asking their lieutenant excitedly when they could fire. Their armor-piercing rounds were already loaded in the firing chambers, but they were still 400 yards too far away for effective fire.

German artillery positioned in and around Sidi Bou Zid opened up with a murderous barrage as the advance continued and Wolff’s tanks drew closer. Finally, the order to fire was given. Wolff’s company poured blistering shells at the Americans. In an instant, red flames and black smoke appeared on the horizon.

Stack looked on in horror and disbelief as the German force came into view and began cutting into the American tanks. Alger had been sent directly into the jaws of an ambush. The 2nd Battalion would be crushed in a flanking vise by an overwhelming armored force, while simultaneously being hammered in the center–a classic encirclement.

At 1615 Alger lost contact with Winkler. By then, the opposing tankers were fighting at point-blank range. Unbeknown to Alger, Winkler had his head down in the turret when an armor-piercing round exploded in the tank with a brilliant red glow, a splash of molten metal and an eruption of fire. The compartment was immediately engulfed in flames. Kaser was killed instantly by the blast. Winkler’s face and hair were seared and his eyes were burned shut. Newton was scorched on the face, hands and chest. Both Gregg and Urbanovski suffered superficial head wounds. The survivors bailed out of the stricken tank as the battle raged around them.

When they were on the ground, Winkler asked who was there. The crew said all but Kaser. He asked them to check on Kaser but one or more came back and told him it was no use. At Winkler’s request, Gregg led his blinded commander to the nearest officer’s tank to check in by radio with Alger. Winkler was unable to reach Alger on the radio but talked briefly in person with a Lieutenant Holder of Company E. Gregg then suggested that Winkler try to walk out while Gregg returned to the tank to help Newton and Urbanovski put the fire out. He said that they would pick up Winkler if they could douse the fire and restart the engine.

Meanwhile, Stack radioed Alger for a situation report. ‘Still pretty busy. Situation is hard,’ Alger calmly replied. That was Stack’s last communication with the 2nd Battalion commander. Moments later Alger’s radio antenna was blown away by a tank shell.

At 1645, armor-piercing rounds struck the engine compartment of Alger’s tank, starting a fire. The early Sherman was nicknamed ‘the Ronson’ due to the propensity of its lightly armored gasoline engine to burst into flames. Now, Alger’s command tank was ablaze. Immediately afterward, two armor-piercing rounds ripped through the south side of the turret, killing radio operator Leger. Alger and the rest of the crew jumped from the flaming tank and tried to work northward to join the remnants of Company D.

The hostile armored force now bored in on the American flanks. Multicolored tracer shells streaked through the sky as the Germans rampaged at will among the burning M-4s. The survivors retreated west through lanes of heavy pursuing fire. Soon the envelopment was finished. Just four of Alger’s Shermans and some scattered crews returned as night descended.

One of the tanks with a knocked-out gun picked up Winkler, who had walked west alone, guided only by the warmth of the setting sun on his scorched face. Alger and his crew were quickly spotted by Germans and captured, as were Gregg, Newton, Urbanovski and most of the battalion’s dismounted crews.

The 68th Armored Artillery Battalion and the 6th Armored Infantry were cut off and threatened with encirclement. Nevertheless, the American artillery continued directing a steady stream of fire at the approaching German panzers, then only 2,000 yards away. Two guns disappeared in brilliant flashes of fire, while the others withdrew into defilade.

Stack was heartsick and had seen enough. Alger’s entire battalion had been annihilated. At 1800, he ordered immediate disengagement and withdrawal to Kern’s Crossroads. The American infantry trapped on Djebels Lessouda and Ksaira were written off and told to get back as best they could.

The Germans were elated. They had decimated an entire American tank battalion. Acrid, dark gray and black smoke filled the air. The American tanks huddled beside the wadi Oued Rouena, at the edge of Sidi Salem, flames flickering in the desert night.

As the victorious panzers droned and prowled around the village searching for stragglers, Wolff roamed from company to company asking his men and himself: ‘Did you ever see anything like it? Did you ever see anything like it?’

In just two days, the strength of the 1st Armored Division had been depleted by a total of 98 tanks, 57 halftracks, 29 artillery pieces and 500 men. Instantly swept away were 100 of its highly trained tank crews. These were the darkest days of the division’s history. Alger later likened his doomed attack to the Charge of the Light Brigade at Balaclava during the Crimean War, lamenting that ‘there was little or no foresight in planning or execution of the operations.’

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This article was written by Robert A. Newton and originally appeared in the September 2002 issue of World War II magazine.

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