Bloody Battle at Colmar Pocket
Murphy Tells the Story
My Mother and Audie Murphy Ch. 53
The fight for control of the area near Colmar, France, a critical battle of the war, raged from January 20 to February 9, 1945. The campaign has been largely overshadowed by events occurring at the same time further north during the Battle of the Bulge. In his autobiography, To Hell and Back, Audie Murphy tells the story.
“During the night, we take turns at staying on watch. I fall asleep. My hair freezes to the ground. A gun cracks. I jerk awake, leaving patches of my hair in the ice.
“By morning, the bridge over the Ill has been completed sufficiently to permit the crossing of a few tanks. Three of them join us. The presence of armor is most cheering, but it also means that we are not to retreat.
“As we line up for another attack, the quiet woods seem to explode. A mortar barrage is thrown on us; machine guns crackle; and rifle bullets snap through the air. Again we scramble for cover. I see the two lieutenants who were commissioned with me leap into the same hole. A mortar shell trails them in. It is over in an instant. Black smoke rolls from the hole, covering the bloody hulks that a moment ago were two living men.
“A blast knocks me down. I roll into a hole and jerk up my trouser legs. From the knees down the flesh is peppered with tiny steel fragments. But the luck of the Irish is with me. The wounds are all superficial.
“Our armor pulls ahead of us with gun barrels traversing. From the woodland comes a crash of shells. Two of the tanks burst into flames. Their escape hatches open; and the still living members of the crew bail out. Blazing like torches and screaming horribly, they roll in the snow. Bullets spit around the agonized bodies as enemy riflemen crack down….
“Six hundred yards deep in the forest, we have to halt our advance. Our ammunition is low, and we must wait for fresh supplies to be brought up before continuing.
“Night has fallen. Wind whistles through the barren tree limbs. Few words are spoken. The company, which started the attack at almost full strength, has been slashed to pieces. Huddling in the snow, we open cans of greasy rations and attempt to eat.
“Around 1:00 in the morning our ammunition and several replacements arrive….”
Over the course of the previous day, Company B of the 15th Infantry Regiment of the Third Infantry Division had suffered 102 of 120 men killed or wounded without even reaching the town. Every officer in Company B became a casualty in the fight except Lt. Murphy. This left Murphy and 17 men to defend his zone.
“I report to the command post for orders. Our company is to drive to the edge of the woods facing Holdzwihr, dig in, and hold. Another unit will move through our lines and continue the attack at dawn. I get my bearings from a field map and return to the men….
“We reach the edge of the forest. For two hours the night is filled with the clump, clump of pick and shovel gnawing at rock-hard earth. The efforts are futile, but the exercise keeps us from freezing. When we finally give up trying to chew holes in the ground, we stamp up and down a narrow road winding through the woods to stir up heat in our bodies.
“As The dirty, gray light of dawn spreads over the terrain, attention grips us. To the infantryman, daybreak is the critical hour. It is the customary time for attacking or being attacked. Our support has not yet arrived.”
He contacts battalion headquarters. There is no change in orders. Hold position. The attack will be delayed.
“I hang up the receiver and study the landscape tactically….
“During the night, two tank destroyers have moved up to our position.
“The morning drags by. A forward artillery observer with a radio joins us. The icy tree branches rattle in the wind.
Again Murphy contacts headquarters. There is no change in orders.
“At two o’clock in the afternoon, I see the Germans lining up for an attack. Six tanks rumble to the outskirts of Holtzwihr, split into groups of threes, and fan out toward either side of the clearing….
“Then wave after wave of white dots, barely discernible against the background of snow, start across the field. They are enemy infantrymen, wearing snowcapes and advancing in a staggered skirmish formation.
“One of our tank destroyers…slides into a ditch at an angle that leaves the turret guns completely useless. The driver steps on the gas; the tank wallows further into the ditch; the engine dies. The crew bails out and takes off for the rear.”
The artillery observer is trying to contact headquarters.
“I had forgotten about him. We cannot afford to have the radio captured.
Murphy sends him to the rear and takes the field telephone to order artillery. He orders a round of smoke.
“I hang up the receiver and grab my carbine just as the enemy’s preliminary barrage hits. It is murderous. A single tree burst knocks out our machine-gun squad. The second tank destroyer is hit flush, and three of its crew are killed. The remainder, coughing and half blinded, climb from the smoking turret and sprint down the road to the rear. At that moment I know we are lost.”
Murphy keeps talking to headquarters. He orders artillery and gives coordinates.
“The tanks are now close enough to rake our position with machine gun fire. Of the 128 men that began the drive, not over 40 remain. And I am the last of the seven officers. Trying to stop the armor with our small arms is useless. I yell to the men to start pulling out.
“I seize my carbine and start sniping. The advance wave of infantrymen is within 200 yards of my position.”
He’s still talking to headquarters on the phone.
“Dropping the receiver, I grab the carbine and fire until I give out of ammunition. As I turn to run, I notice the burning tank destroyer. On its turret is a perfectly good machine gun and several cases of ammunition. The German tanks have suddenly veered to the left.
“I change my plans and drag the telephone to the top of the tank destroyer. The body of the lieutenant with whom I talked early in the morning is sprawled over the edge of the hatch. His throat has been cut; A small river of blood streams down the side of the tank destroyer. I finish dragging the body out and dump it into the snow.”
Murphy is still talking on the phone giving coordintates for artillery.
“Hastily checking the machine gun, I find that it has not been damaged. When I press the trigger, the chatter of the gun is like sweet music. Three krauts stagger and crumple in the snow.
“Crash! The tank destroyer shudders violently. Vaguely I put two and two together and conclude that the TD has received another direct hit.
“Crash! I am conscious of a flash and explosion. I reel back with the map and the telephone receiver in my hands.”
He orders more artillery.
“I feed another belt of cartridges into the machine gun and seize the trigger again. The smoke is so thick that I can barely see through it; and the smell of smoldering flesh is again in my nostrils. But when the wind blows the smoke aside, I bore into any object that stirs.
“The gun has thrown the krauts into confusion. Evidently they cannot locate its position. Later I am told that the burning tank destroyer, loaded with gasoline and ammunition was expected to blow up any minute. That is why the enemy tanks gave it a wide berth and the infantrymen could not conceive of a man’s using it for cover.
“I do not know about that. For the time being my imagination is gone; and my numbed brain is intent only on destroying. I am conscious only that the smoke and the turret afford a good screen, and that, for the first time in three days my feet are warm.
“…A gust of wind whips the smoke aside; and I see an enemy sergeant in the roadside ditch not 30 yards from my position. He peers cautiously about, then turns his head and motions his squad forward. As I spin my gun barrel upon him, a billow of smoke comes between us.
“For a minute or so I wait. The tree branches overhead stir stiffly in the gust, the smoke column folds to one side. The twelve Germans, huddled like partridges in the ditch, are discussing something, perhaps my possible location. I press the trigger and slowly traverse the barrel. The twelve bodies slump in a stack position. I give them another methodically thorough burst, and pick up the phone.”
He orders a barrage of artillery.
“The barrage lands within 50 yards of the tank destroyer. The shouting screaming Germans caught in it or silent now. The enemy tanks, reluctant to advance further without infantry support, lumber back toward Holtzwihr.”
Murphy is still on the phone asking for more artillery.
“Concussion from the enemy barrage almost knocks me from the tank destroyer. For a moment I am stunned; and then I see the telephone receiver in my hand. There is no answer. The telephone line has been knocked out.
“My cloudy brain slowly directs my actions. Carefully I fold the field map and notice that it has been riddled with shell fragments. I examine my hands and arms. They are unscratched.
“A dull pain throbs in my right leg. Looking down I see that the trouser leg is bloody. That does not matter.
“As if under the influence of some drug, I slide off the tank destroyer and, without once looking back, walk down the road through the forest. If the Germans want to shoot me, let them. I am too weak from fear and exhaustion to care.”
Audie Murphy was 19 years old. These are the actions that won him the Congressional Medal of Honor.
Ch. 54: https://medium.com/@tradeswomn/flo-and-janet-shoot-guns-111672c02bf5
