CHAPTER 9

The Road Less Traveled

“If it had not been for Col. Reed’s knowledge, compassion and understanding, the Lipizzaner mares would surely have become horse burgers for the Russians.”

Captain Dr. Rudolf Lessing

“Look, my friend,” said Dr. Lessing slowly to the brown-uniformed local group leader, who still had his pistol drawn, “I have a certificate of authorization here.” Lessing gently reached into his hip pocket and extracted General Schulz’s note. “We are official parliamentaires. So put your weapons away again, and leave us alone.”¹ The Nazi officer looked suddenly less confident. He replaced his pistol in its brown leather holster and examined the letter closely, the paper quickly spotting in the rain. Captain Stewart was still rooted to the spot, his eyes hardly daring to leave the man who was covering him with his rifle. It was clear that one false move and things would take a decidedly terminal turn.

“Move aside and let the American pass!” Lessing demanded impatiently in an authoritative voice. The local leader said nothing for a few seconds. He just stood in the rain gazing at the German and American officers. He was clearly weighing up his options. His eyes darted from Lessing to Stewart and back again in nervous indecision. His men kept their weapons trained on the two captives, but their eyes also flicked to their leader, awaiting orders. Suddenly the group leader licked his lips and thrust the letter at Lessing, who plucked it from his outstretched hand. He was obviously deeply suspicious of Lessing’s motives, but a general’s signature had triggered something in his obedient nature and he had decided to let them go. The immediate crisis had passed. Just before Lessing restarted the motorbike, a Volkssturmmann slapped Stewart’s .38 revolver angrily into the American’s outstretched hand.

It had been a close run thing, and both Lessing and Stewart knew that if it had been an SS patrol they would not have got off so lightly, pass or no pass. As the motorcycle combination trundled down the tree-lined track Stewart checked his .38 then shoved it back into its holster. It wasn’t much, but it might prove the difference if he and Lessing ran into serious trouble again. It was all he had.

It was the evening of April 27, 1945, when Captain Stewart arrived back at American lines on foot. Dr. Lessing had taken him in his BMW motorcycle combination to the forester’s hut, but Dr. Kroll had been nowhere to be seen. Stewart had made his own way back from there.

Captain Lessing had decided to wait for Kroll. He had lain down in the musty hay in one of the horse stalls and had tried to sleep. Though he had been on the go for over thirty hours, sleep refused to come. Instead, Lessing lay in the darkness with only the occasional movement of the horses for company, his mind turning over the incredible chain of events, nervous and with one ear cocked for any unusual sounds from the dark and forbidding woods outside the stables. He yearned for the sound of Kroll returning, but there was nothing, just the breeze gently rustling branches and the occasional call of some nocturnal animal in the undergrowth.

Captain Stewart was met by Corporal Pat Jose, the 42nd Squadron Courier, who took him by jeep to Lieutenant Colonel Hargis’ command post. There Stewart reported on the details of his mission to Colonel Reed by radio.²

“How was it?” asked Reed.

“Interesting, sir, very interesting,” replied Stewart laconically.

Reed was fully aware of the great risks that Stewart had taken, and the young captain discussed the journey out with Lessing and the reactions of Lieutenant Colonel Rudofsky and Generals Schulz and Weisenberger to his mission. Reed would later put Stewart forward for the Bronze Star for this brave service.

“Everything is arranged at Hostau, sir,” said Stewart at the conclusion of his debriefing.

“I hope to God you’re right,” replied Reed ominously, the drawbacks to the rescue plan at the front of his mind. “You get some chow inside of you and some well-earned rack time, Tom,” said Reed. “You’ll be going back as Major Andrews’ assistant tomorrow.” Stewart was confused.

“I’m sending a task force to liberate the horses and the POWs,”³ said Reed, clarifying his statement. Stewart was delighted at this news.

While Stewart had been away on his diplomatic mission, Reed had taken the precaution of assembling a small task force ready to take action if the Americans received the green light from the German authorities at Hostau. Due to forthcoming operational commitments, Reed couldn’t spare much for the dash to the stud. Earlier he had called the 42nd’s S-3, or Operations Officer, Major Robert Andrews, who had earlier led the attack into Asch, to his office to brief him.

“I can only spare you and the men for a couple of days, Bob,” stated Reed. Andrews, his helmet tucked under his left arm, nodded solemnly.

“I understand, sir. What are your orders?”

“Captain Catlett’s Troop A, suitably reinforced of course, will be your main force component,”⁴ said Reed, referring to fellow Virginian 27-year-old Captain Carter Catlett’s cavalry reconnaissance company. Catlett was a prewar star athlete who had been on a football scholarship at the Virginia Military Institute when he volunteered for the army, also playing baseball and basketball and running track and field. “I’m assigning Troop C as point. They will punch a way through the Kraut lines to objective three-oh-six here.” Reed pointed down at a map of western Czechoslovakia spread on the green camp table before them. Andrews read the town name next to Reed’s index finger.

“Weissensulz?”

“It’s a one-horse burg three-quarters of the way to our target, here,” said Reed, tracing a thin road all the way to Hostau. “C will secure the objective and halt until ordered forward. It will then proceed to liberate POWs at objective eight-oh-oh here,” explained Reed, pointing to the small village of Schmolau next to Weissensulz. “Once C has secured three-oh-six, you pass through with A and take the point to the final objective at Hostau and the remount stud,”⁵ said Reed. Andrews leaned close, making quick notes on a small pad in his hand.

“Because we need to maintain the element of surprise and we are pressed for time, I can’t permit any forward reconnaissance of the route or targets,” said Reed gloomily. Such a move ran contrary to the entire ethos of cavalry reconnaissance. But there was more bad news to follow.

“I also can’t give you any certain information on the dispositions or strengths of hostile forces between three-oh-six and the final objective, so I’m also giving you a platoon from C as reinforcements to ensure that you punch through.⁶ The balance of C will secure your supply route back to our lines.”

Andrews nodded silently, his keen eyes poring over the map with a professional’s gaze, taking in the topographical markers and contours.

“What about armored support, sir?” he asked, visions of Tiger tanks clamoring to the front of his mind. Andrews knew better than anyone that the area could be crawling with all sorts of nasty surprises, surprises that M8 Greyhounds and jeeps would not be able to cope with.

“I can spare a platoon from Company F,” said Reed. The armored unit in each reconnaissance outfit didn’t use the old cavalry title “troops.” A platoon amounted to five small M24 Chaffee tanks. Andrews held his tongue. “You can also have a platoon of assault guns from Troop E,”⁷ added Reed, helpfully. This would consist of just two 75mm Howitzer Motor Carriages, ugly tank-like vehicles with truncated gun barrels. The meager armor would be split between Troops A and C to give them some offensive edge. His total force would amount, at full strength, including himself and second-in-command Stewart, to 325 men.

“Look Bob, I know its not much of an army, but speed is the key. It’s about eighteen miles straight through to Hostau and the stud.” Both men leaned forward and went over the route again on the map in detail, Reed answering further questions.

“You may run into roadblocks or resistance in the villages and towns that you pass through,” said Reed, “or the only Krauts you see might already have their hands up. It will be up to the point teams in the lead platoons to give the advance parties time to deploy in case of resistance.” Andrews’ concerned eyes retraced the thin route to Hostau.

“As you can see, there are no friendlies north or south of the targets,” said Reed. “And there will be no further movements of our forces forward in this sector. So, to recap Bob, secure Hostau town, take the German surrender and set all-round security.⁸ Organize the evacuation of the enemy POWs to our lines. Liberate any Allied POWs and also arrange for their safe evac. Once you are organized get on the radio and I’ll start sending up every available truck to move the prisoners out. Part two of your mission is to secure and hold the remount stud beside Hostau Castle here,” said Reed, pointing out the horse center on the map. “It is imperative that the horses and German staff are secured intact. I will come up myself once you have them.” Andrews nodded thoughtfully.

It was decided that the point unit for Troop A would be 2nd Platoon, commanded by First Lieutenant William “Bill” Quinlivan. Bill, from East Dubuque, Illinois, was the son of Irish immigrant parents and had enlisted in the old horsed cavalry at seventeen. He would have just twenty-eight men but be reinforced with two of the assigned tanks crewed by ten men from Company F. With the tough, combat-experienced Quinlivan would be specialists from the Quartermaster Corps’ Remount Service.

The US Army Remount Service dated from the Civil War, and provided animals, primarily horses and mules, to army units. During World War II most of the Remount Service’s efforts had been directed to operations in the China–Burma–India theater, New Guinea and the Southwest Pacific, where geography, flora and weather often inhibited the use of vehicles. Mules and horses were seeing extensive service in these campaigns by the United States, its British Empire allies and the Japanese. In the European theater of operations the requirement for animals was considerably less, with the US Army the mechanically best-equipped force in the field. But some horses and mules nonetheless saw service. The 6835th Quartermaster Remount Depot was the single unit responsible, and between June 6, 1944, and the end of May 1945 it requisitioned and processed 1,800 animals and issued 750, mainly mules, to the 513th Quartermaster Pack Troop.⁹ One of the major tasks for the 6835th was processing captured German military horses and taking over the German horse-breeding establishments.¹⁰

Colonel Reed paused and sighed heavily, “I hate sending you blind like this, Bob, but I’ve no choice. Speed and aggression are our best weapons. General Patton has ordered me to ‘make it fast,’ and that’s precisely what we’re going to do.”

Andrews understood. It was a big risk, but a risk worth taking, for the sake of the prisoners and the horses. He didn’t relish the idea of barreling down an unknown road through bandit country, but if any force could do it, it was the 42nd, “Patton’s Ghosts.” It was the sort of crazy-ass mission that the regiment had been undertaking since Normandy.

The mechanization of the US Army was astounding in comparison with the state of the German forces arrayed against it, and was the Americans’ greatest advantage in the fluid situation they faced. But the assignment bothered Andrews nonetheless, for the nature of the mission ran contrary to his training. To put it simply, the mission broke the cardinal rule of armored reconnaissance operations: “Sufficient strength is always sent to be assured of accomplishing the assigned mission.”¹¹ It stated that in black and white in the field manual.

Andrews went to see Lieutenant Colonel Hargis, the 42nd’s CO, where the officers from Troops A, C, E and Company F who would be taking part in the mission were assembled for initial orders. Objectives and routes were indicated by Andrews on a wall map, and then copied to all troop and platoon leaders; a detailed mission duration timetable was also drawn up, vital for logistical planning.¹² The supply sections needed to know how much fuel, ammunition and rations were to be loaded aboard the vehicles taking part. Nothing was left to chance. Once the task force left the American lines, it would be on its own and would have to sustain itself until resupply could be arranged.

Troop A, Andrews’ main force component, was a typical late-war mechanized cavalry reconnaissance unit. At full strength it consisted of 5 officers and 140 men organized into a troop headquarters and three reconnaissance platoons. Each platoon was equipped with six Bantam jeeps, three mounting 60mm mortars, and three a .30-cal. machine gun. A few of the jeeps mounted German MG42 machine guns that had been “liberated” from the enemy. The rest of each platoon rode in three M8 Greyhound armored cars.

The M8 was the vehicle that had earned Third Army’s reconnaissance units their nickname of “Patton’s Ghosts,” because the vehicle’s engine was so quiet compared to other armored cars of the period that US troops were often able to surprise German forces, who didn’t hear them until it was too late. The M8 was also fast, its 55mph top road speed earning it the nickname in British service of “Greyhound.” With a crew of four, the 8.6-ton six-wheeled armored car’s main weapon was a puny 37mm anti-tank gun mounted in a small turret. Secondary armament was a .50 cal. heavy machine gun on the turret top and a coaxial .30 cal. machine gun beside the driver. Its light armor made it impervious to small arms and shrapnel, though it would not last long against a German tank and was very vulnerable to the new Panzerfaust. The M8 was later deemed “unsatisfactory” in a report by Colonel Reed, because its main gun was simply too light and its truck-type suspension “seriously limited its cross-country mobility.”¹³ It was, unfortunately, a rush job created in 1943 to face the Germans in North Africa.

What armored support Reed had given Andrews didn’t count for much either. The Chaffee tank was popular with its crews, being reliable with great off-road performance. Most importantly, it stood a chance against German tanks, being armed with the much larger and higher-velocity 75mm gun normally found in the Sherman. But its main drawback, certainly against the Panther and Pzkpfw IV tanks that both the 2nd and 11th Panzer Divisions had in western Czechoslovakia, was its relatively light armor, which meant that it was no match for any late-war German tank or even the dreaded Panzerfaust. Another issue was the tank’s main gun—mechanized cavalry leaders like Colonel Reed were of the opinion that a heavier weapon was ideally needed considering the size and armor of late-war German Panzers.¹⁴

The M8 Howitzer Motor Carriage was basically a 75mm artillery gun with a truncated barrel mounted in an open turret atop the body of an M5 Stuart light tank. The vehicle was designed to afford units like the 42nd close support against enemy fortified positions, and it could also act as mobile artillery. But as with the Chaffee, its light armor made it an easy kill for German tanks.

If one word summed up Task Force Andrews—as it was to be called, after its commander—that word was light. He was light on men, light on intelligence regarding route and enemy strengths and intentions, and his vehicles were light on armor and firepower. There were no Sherman tanks assigned to the force; he would have to make do with the little Chaffees. Major Andrews knew that if his little column was to run into a Tiger or Panther tank his Greyhounds, Chaffees and HMCs would be turned into so much scrap and a lot of his men would get killed.

When Andrews took his leave from Colonel Reed to consult with Lieutenant Colonel Hargis and to brief in detail the officers commanding A and C Troops and the individual platoon commanders, he tried not to think of another cavalry officer who had gone gallivanting into Indian country sixty-nine years earlier without proper reconnaissance or any idea of enemy strength. Andrews was determined that his mission was not going to turn into a latter-day Custer’s Last Stand.

If Reed, Andrews, or any of the other officers involved in planning the rescue at Hostau needed a warning that the Germans were far from beaten, and still capable of aggressive and devastating use of their forces, they only needed to look at what happened to Task Force Baum one month before.

Task Force Baum, like Task Force Andrews, was named for its commander, in this case a big, tough, flame-haired New Yorker named Captain Abraham Baum of the 4th Armored Division.

In late March 1945 General Patton had received intelligence that several hundred US prisoners had been moved to Oflag XIII-B, an officers’ camp near Hammelburg, Germany, around 40 miles behind enemy lines.¹⁵ He was thrilled, declaring: “This is going to make the MacArthur raid on Cabanatuan look like peanuts.”¹⁶ Patton was referring to a POW rescue operation that General Douglas MacArthur had ordered in the Philippines when a special task force of US Rangers and Filipino guerillas had trekked thirty miles behind enemy lines and rescued over 500 starving and sick Allied prisoners-of-war from a Japanese camp near Cabanatuan City. The successful raid had garnered great plaudits for MacArthur and his command, and earned the envy of Patton.

Captain Baum was ordered to lead a task force of ten Sherman tanks, six M5 Stuart light tanks, twenty-seven half-tracks, and fourteen support vehicles to the camp through largely unknown German opposition, along a route about which there was no intelligence and on which no reconnaissance had been attempted. “The division is not to follow you,” read Baum’s stark orders. “You’ll be on your own.”¹⁷ Once he had liberated the prisoners, Baum was to load them aboard his transport and retrace his steps back to US lines.¹⁸ To use a common military term of the time, Baum’s “ass was in the wind.”

Undaunted, Baum set off on the evening of March 26, fighting through the town of Aschaffenburg, where he lost one Sherman and some other vehicles and successfully alerted the Germans to his presence. Soon Baum was to see a Luftwaffe Fieseler 156 Storch spotter plane shadowing his column, reporting his presence to German forces that were closing in to attack. As well as infantry, the Germans managed to deploy some Hetzer tank destroyers to deal with Baum’s armor.

On the 27th, Task Force Baum rolled up at the gates to Oflag XIII-B, where after a short battle with the guards, they successfully captured the camp. By now, Baum’s force had been reduced to 50 percent strength following a series of running skirmishes with German forces. He now realized that there were considerably more prisoners in the camp than he had been told to expect. He ordered that only two hundred of the more senior American officers would be permitted to ride on his remaining vehicles. The rest, all half-starved or ill, were told that they could walk. Most wisely decided to stay put in the camp.¹⁹

Task Force Baum started back on the evening of March 27, but it was soon realized that powerful German forces were closing in all around them. Taking refuge on a hilltop for the night, Baum determined to start off again at dawn on the 28th. But the moment the task force began to move it was struck from all sides by heavy German fire. In a very short period all of the remaining American tanks were knocked out, and Baum reluctantly ordered every man for himself, also abandoning all of his remaining transport. Just 35 men managed to walk back to American lines. Baum and 246 others were listed as wounded, missing or taken prisoner, while 32 men were dead.²⁰ The operation sullied Patton’s reputation at SHAEF and in the press, though he managed to minimize the wider fallout through his staff’s excellent damage control.²¹ It wasn’t helped that it was discovered that Patton son-in-law had been one of the prisoners in the camp, though Patton vigorously denied having any knowledge of this when ordering the operation.

The similarities between Task Forces Baum and Andrews were obvious: the high-value prestige target, the small numbers of men and vehicles—enough to get noticed by the Germans but not enough to have a chance of winning an engagement and making it back in one piece should the Germans fight—and the same long high-speed dash into the unknown without proper reconnaissance of the route or careful evaluation of the enemy. In fact, Task Force Andrews was expected to travel only eighteen miles, as opposed to the forty driven by Task Force Baum, but conversely it was entering an area where German Panzer divisions had been identified, and with the Americans bringing along even less firepower. Task Force Baum’s ten Sherman medium tanks had proved no match for the Germans, so what was to be expected of five little Chaffees and a pair of Howitzer Motor Carriages was anyone’s guess.

The 42nd’s Troop C, commanded by First Lieutenant Bob McCaleb since the bloody battle of Asch, would take point during the initial attack into Czech territory, bursting open the German front line and racing forward to its first objective at Weissensulz. At the very tip of the point would be the reliable Staff Sergeant Joseph Carpenter leading 3rd Platoon. McCaleb, Carpenter and the other platoon leaders were not told about the ultimate objective, the capture of the horses at Hostau, just that the mission was part of a PW rescue. The recent “capture” of one American and two British prisoners-of-war by Troop C, while Captains Lessing and Stewart had been undertaking their careful negotiations, had confirmed that a large concentration of POWs was being held close to Weissensulz at objective 800, the village of Schmolau.²²

Captain Lessing had spent the whole night waiting for Dr. Kroll at the forester’s hut, but he hadn’t shown up. As the first rays of dawn began to lighten the sky, Lessing made up his mind. He couldn’t dally any longer. He would ride back to Hostau and help Colonel Rudofsky prepare for the arrival of the Americans, who he thought must be coming soon.

Mounting his horse Indigo, the same stallion that he had ridden with Captain Stewart on their original mission, Lessing started back. He was exhausted after so much travelling, arguing and tension, and a night without sleep had left him in a precarious condition. He was almost asleep in the saddle, the horse’s regular movements lulling him. As he was riding through the village of Heiligenkreuz between Weissensulz and Hostau, Lessing passed in front of Baron von Dobirsch’s manor house. Fortuitously, the baron was on his balcony and spotted Lessing. The two were old friends and the baron immediately urged him to break his ride and rest for a while.

Lessing told the baron that the Americans might be passing through in the next few hours. He had to get back to Hostau at once.

“You’re completely exhausted!” protested von Dobirsch with almost paternal concern. The baron demanded that Lessing rest for a little while and eat something. Lessing couldn’t disagree with the baron, for his mind was befuddled by stress and lack of rest. Lessing gave in, dismounted heavily and went into the manor house where the Baron’s cook served him up a bowl of piping hot pea soup, fresh bread and a mug of steaming black coffee. As he slowly ate, Lessing chatted with the baron, a fellow horse lover whose own stables were full of both his own mounts and refugee horses blown in from the east. Lessing had visited often to minister to the horses and talk with von Dobirsch. The baron’s eyes grew wide as Lessing described his adventures on behalf of the stud, and Lessing realized he could see something like hope in his friend’s face.

At that moment a telephone began to ring insistently in the entrance hall outside the door.