By September 1944, the Allied offensive in Western Europe had swept from the Normandy beaches all the way to the West Wall, or Siegfried Line, the formidable defensive position along the German border consisting of concrete bunkers fronted by antitank obstacles. Anxious to move quickly through the West Wall, Major General J. Lawton Collins, commander of the First Army's VII Corps, plotted an advance south and east of Aachen through a 70-square-mile section of heavily wooded terrain known as the Hürtgen Forest. Within the Hürtgen lay several massive dams that managed the flow of the Roer River and its tributaries. Rather than the useless real estate of the forest, the flood-controlling dams were genuine strategic assets, but the American planners initially ignored their value and drew up no plans to secure them. Their strategy was fixed upon crossing the Roer and seizing the city of Düren.

Collins, who subsequently lectured that the three most important initial aspects of a campaign were 'terrain, terrain, terrain,' apparently had not absorbed that lesson when he decided to move his corps through the Hürtgen. The forest, largely planted and nurtured by the Third Reich, presented an almost solid growth of trees that reduced visibility to a few yards. It contained few roads, steep hills and a handful of clearings for sev-eral villages. Although German strategists believed no sensible adversary would seek to penetrate the forest, they had nevertheless honeycombed it with thickly shielded emplacements capable of providing interlocking fire to one another.

On September 14, 1944, the 9th Infantry Division became the first to test the defenses. A Regular Army outfit commanded by Maj. Gen. Louis A. Craig, the 9th had fought in North Africa and then across France. Like many Allied divisions, its ranks had been severely depleted during prolonged combat. The division's 60th Infantry Regiment was at less than 40 percent strength. The 9th's other two regiments, the 39th and 47th, were also understrength.

An M-10 from the 893rd Tank Destroyer Battalion moves down a logging trail on its way to Schmidt, Germany, during the fighting in the Hürtgen Forest. Vehicles found it extremely difficult to negotiate the heavily wooded terrain south of Aachen, and the bloody fight for the forest quickly became an infantryman's battle. (National Archives)

In spite of its weakness, the 47th jumped off from near Aachen on the 14th and plunged ahead as much as six miles against little opposition. Chester Jordan, a Company K platoon leader who had joined the division just as the Normandy breakout began two months earlier, said: 'For two days we saw nothing but trees. We saw no Germans, no buildings. Nothing. On the second day, we were so close to Zweifall [a village] that their air raid sirens sounded as though they were in the next row of trees. Our radios picked up their air raid warning: 'Achtung! Achtung!' '

On the third day, Jordan and his companions, tacking northeast, were perched on a hillside trail. Below them, in plain sight, people in the hamlet of Schevenhütte pursued their business seemingly without regard for the war. The astonished lieutenant then saw a German officer strolling along near his position studying a map. Jordan recalled: 'None of us had ever heard of a Kraut officer going anywhere alone, so we expected the shit to fly at any minute. We grabbed guns and ran or fell down the steep slope. It was a German colonel, who was not only surprised but pissed off something terrible. We de-souvenired him and sent him back.'

The platoon continued over a road and climbed another ridge. 'Sergeant Myers was the last to cross the road, and as he did, he heard a motorcycle coming from the east,' Jordan said. 'Obviously a courier chasing after the colonel. Myers knelt next to a tree and fired. He blew the rider into the ditch. I called a halt and radioed for instructions. They said, 'Take the village.'

'We did a left face and raced down the hill to the village. Our speed was the product of the steep hill rather than combat zeal. As we ran through the backyards, I looked for the handiest back door. The one I opened led into a small commercial kitchen and then directly into the taproom of a small hotel. The only inhabitant was a dignified old man with a large mustache who was wearing a frock-tailed coat and a shirt with a winged collar. I motioned him behind the bar and had him draw beer for the three of us in the room. I was getting ready for a second round when I heard rifle fire outside.

'As I emerged from the bar I could see the [American] machine gun section standing by the church on the Gressenich road [another town within the forest]. The section had been going down the road to set up the MG when a Volkswagen jeep with four Kraut soldiers came barreling by. The Germans waved, and our men reciprocated and both realized at the same time that they were fraternizing with the enemy. They had managed a few rifle shots, but by that time the car had turned left at the church and headed for Düren.' The foe vanished, abandoning the vehicle by a creek whose bridge had been blown.

>Wehrmacht soldiers, not realizing the Americans were in control, wandered into Schevenhütte for the next three days. The GIs utilized a massive communications bunker in the village for their headquarters. Jordan's battalion commander sent a German-speaking sergeant up to intercept messages detailing assembly points. He promptly relayed the data to the artillery. Isolated from the remainder of the company, Jordan and his small band endured several days of sparse rations and the unsettling noise of vigorous activity by enemy troops nearby. Eventually, the platoon pulled back to the ridge above Schevenhütte, while others from the 47th took up positions in the area.

Thomas W. Gilgore, a soldier in the 121st Infantry Regiment, shows the strain of his time in the Hürtgen during a brief lull. (National Archives)

Elsewhere, other 9th Infantry Division soldiers entered a much more deadly environment. The 39th Regiment, about eight miles south of Schevenhütte, pressed an attack at Lammersdorf on the edge of the forest. From a hill overlooking that village, the Germans pounded the Americans with everything from small arms to heavy artillery. 'The enemy attacked five or six times,' a German officer reported. 'The regularity was amazing, the more so since each attack was repulsed mostly with great losses. For the latter reason, the enemy requested a short, one-day armistice to recover wounded and bury dead. That was granted. Nevertheless, the attack was repeated the following day at the usual time.' It took two weeks for the 39th to dislodge the defenders.

The advance of the 60th Regiment toward the Hüfen-Alzen ridge south of Simmerath, proved equally frustrating. Command and control broke down as the density of the trees in the forest limited visibility to no more than a few feet. Tree bursts showered deadly shrapnel upon prone soldiers and those crouched in foxholes. Enemy fire drenched open areas, and the available maps provided little information on the few trails that could be found. Radios functioned poorly in the thick woods. Mines lurked just beneath the surface. The steel-reinforced concrete bunkers, often protected by layers of earth, were impervious to satchel charges. It often required as many as a dozen hits from 155mm artillery shells to force the inhabitants to surrender. The pillboxes defied even Allied fighter-bombers.

Buttressed by their massive defensive positions, the Germans counterattacked, hitting the 39th and 60th regiments hard. Nevertheless, aided by tanks from the 3rd Armored Division, the Americans slowly forged ahead. The Germans, however, rushed in reinforcements to confront the deepest penetration by the GIs, the town of Germeter, three miles from the strategic hub of Schmidt. From October 6-16 the 9th Division gained about 3,000 yards at a cost of some 4,500 men killed, wounded or missing. Having battled its way only a short distance into the forest, the 9th Division was exhausted. To relieve the division, the First Army commander, Courtney Hodges, next called on the 28th Division, a Pennsylvania National Guard outfit that had several months of combat under its cartridge belts. The division, led by Maj. Gen. Norman 'Dutch' Cota, prepared to renew the drive toward Schmidt. The 28th, part of Maj. Gen. Leonard Gerow's V Corps, was close to full strength, having recently received several thousand replacements. For added punch, Cota could also call on support from the 707th Tank Battalion. The infantrymen and tankers had little experience working together however. Tank commander 1st Lt. Raymond Fleig commented: 'You'd never know we were in the same Army. We married up with the infantry on the run. There was little or no coordination of communication [or] routes of attack.'

Despite the losses suffered by the 9th Division, high hopes pervaded the First Army chieftains. Major William Sylvan, aide-de-camp to Hodges, reported on November 1: 'Gen. Gerow came to see the general for final discussion of V Corps' attack tomorrow morning and with him the general left for a visit to the 28th Division, which was to spearhead the attack. He found them in fine fettle, raring to go, optimistic over their chances of giving the Boche a fine drubbing. The general said their plan was excellent. The feinting toward the north in hopes of fooling the Boche into belief this was the main effort and then whacking him with everything in the direction of the town of Schmidt. General [George] Davis [the 28th's assistant commander] was chiefly responsible for the plan.'

On November 2, the 28th Division entered a disfigured forest area that was littered with debris from the battered 9th Division and the German defenders. Autumn rains pelted the troops. Sergeant Al Burghardt recalled that 'The Hürtgen Forest, on first observation, looked like heaven….

'On second observation [the] forest looked ominous. It was dark, and as we went to our positions, we could see some of the problems that the 9th Division faced. The pine forest, which comprised 99 percent of the forest, was littered with branches, and it was difficult to go in a straight line because of all the debris. We noticed the trees were scarred from shrapnel, and many trees were down from direct artillery hits. In general, the forest floor was a mess. This was caused by what we learned to fear — the tree burst. The 9th Division and German dead were all over the area.'

Guns from the VII and V corps announced the start of the renewed U.S. offensive. Artillery elevated its barrels as the foot soldiers moved out to avoid friendly fire casualties. The Germans took advantage of this lull to begin a ruthless barrage.

The 707th Tank Battalion, spearheading the advance of the 112th Infantry, led a column over one of the few stretches of open ground. The tanks rumbled ahead, breaking into Vossenack on the path toward Schmidt. The armor poured shells point-blank into the buildings, rousting out the enemy inside. Once the hamlet was secured, Gerow and Cota directed the 112th to station its 2nd Battalion on a ridge east of Vossenack to prevent any interference with the attack on Schmidt. Unfortunately for the attackers, these positions lay exposed to enemy observation from another ridge. For 90 hours, the men of the 2nd Battalion endured a merciless pounding by German artillery.

The regiment's 1st Battalion, driving toward Schmidt from the south on November 3, met a hail of bullets, mortars and artillery that inflicted heavy casualties and halted progress. But the 3rd Battalion, slanting down from the north, forded the icy Kall River and forged forward against minimal resistance. The battalion occupied Schmidt, set out a perimeter defense and awaited the arrival of tanks to ward off the inevitable counterattack. The only approach route, however, was no more than a wagon trail that could not support heavy armor. A few Weasels (M-29 small tracked amphibious vehicles) brought in ammunition, food and antitank mines, but holding Schmidt demanded more.

While American engineers labored to improve the trail for the 707th to reinforce the garrison in Schmidt, the Germans struck hard early the next morning. Gray-clad infantrymen, accompanied by tanks, rolled toward the town while artillery blasted GI positions. Panzerkampfwagen Mark IV and Mark V Panthers from the 16th Panzer Regiment maneuvered around antitank mines strewn over the ground in front of Schmidt. Bazooka rounds exploded against the sides of the Panthers but did little damage as the tanks methodically waddled about the streets, firing directly into foxholes and anywhere the embattled infantrymen sought shelter. The survivors of the 112th's 3rd Battalion fled into the woods. Handfuls of soldiers reached their own lines, but at least 133 were captured.

The panzers and supporting infantry next clanked toward the the American's most advanced positions at Kommerscheidt, east of the Kall River, a mile or so from Schmidt. Because of an impasse west of the Kall, Ray Fleig's tank was the only one to make it to Kommerscheidt. Two more from his platoon were about to join him. Five disabled Shermans littered the Kall Trail behind. Fleig checked in with Major Robert Hazlett, commander of the 1st Battalion in Kommerscheidt, who ordered him to 'Get out there and stop those tanks.' Nearby infantrymen advised Fleig there were 'lots of Germans with tanks over that hill.'

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