CHAPTER 18

BATTLE EXPERIENCE

Anzio Beachhead, March 10–21, 1944

The infusion of nearly 700 officers and enlisted men that were sent to the 504th PIR and the 509th PIB in the first week of March meant that rifle companies consisted for about 55 percent of veterans and about 45 percent of replacements.⁴⁴⁸ Statistically this might have seemed a great improvement, but the newly arrived paratroopers needed to learn a lot: how to avoid attracting enemy fire during the day (by not smoking, cooking, walking upright, using binoculars, etc.) and night (by not smoking, making noise, using flash lights, tripping mines, or forgetting passwords). Patrolling was a new business for each of the replacements and perhaps even more difficult to learn without making mistakes that would cost their lives, or that of their (veteran) comrades.

Most of the veteran paratroopers, but not all, were prepared to teach “the ropes” to the new additions. In some cases, however, replacements were ignorant of the apparent danger of their actions—even after they had been warned. Sergeant Ross S. Carter of C Company, a rifle squad leader in the 3rd Platoon, felt concerned about the large number that flowed in: “We got many replacements, all fine boys with strength of mules and the ignorance of old maids … We felt sad when it became our duty to lead them into battle, because a large percentage of them got killed before they learned how to woo the narrow percentage of safety accorded by lady luck to discerning and sagacious warriors. They would die in the damnedest ways: one would trip over a mine and get a leg blown off; another would let his foxhole cave in and smother him. And in the first battle they usually died in heaps.”⁴⁴⁹

On March 13 Sgt. Carter passed a farm containing one of C Company’s new squads that had arrived the day before. Carter’s platoon had “managed to find space in the house for its new men, but seven young replacements in another platoon, unable to find room in the house, had taken up residence in a straw stack in a shed covered with a straw roof. One day I strolled by, recognized the danger they were in, and advised them, since the ground was too marshy for trenches, to erect dirt-covered log bunkers on top of the ground as a shelter against flying shrapnel. Filled with the bravado born of ignorance, the youngsters didn’t think the danger justified the trouble and continued to make coffee and be homesick. The next afternoon a mortar shell crashed through the thatched roof.

“On hearing the explosion, we rushed out of our house and ran to them. They lay dying around the gasoline stove, their fourteen legs scattered all over the shed. Of all the gruesome images etched in my mental cells after 340 days of front line combat this was the most horrible and the most pathetic.”⁴⁵⁰

Four of the seven replacements were killed on March 14: Pfc. Augustus Iocco and privates Stanley A. Daugherty, Dominick F. Felice, Jr., and John Jastrzebski. Private Arthur W. Keenan succumbed later that day to his wounds and Francis M. Jackson died the next day. Nineteen-year-old Pvt. Joe H. Jilton was the only one who survived, but his combat days were over. He spent part of his convalescence tour in the spring of 1945 selling war bonds along with Pfc. Robert E. Sechrist of the 101st Airborne Division in Louisville, Kentucky.

On March 15 Pvt. David K. Finney of the Regimental Communications Platoon saw the torn bodies of the six C Company replacements in Nettuno. Finney sometimes slipped away from the headquarters building as “being in a ‘war zone’ some of us did strange things. I didn’t follow some of the rules and regulations. I did my job to the best of my ability, but at times I took off on my own—my way in keeping my sanity. We did daily reports of those that were KIA, MIA and WIA. We took it by physically seeing the man and checking off his name. This was depressing when I had to take the count.

“One day I ‘hitched’ a ride on a supply truck and rode into Nettuno. While there I passed a sign which read ‘Grave Registration’. I walked into the area to find five paratroopers laid out on the ground. I asked which company they were from and I was told that they had been replacements, straight from the States. The five of them had been hit when an exploding shell exploded in their midst.”⁴⁵¹

Horrified by the sight of these recent casualties, Pvt. Finney took a photo of the scene, intending to show it to the home front if he would ever get the possibility. Meanwhile the war went on and almost daily men were wounded by enemy fire. Many of them were replacements, as they tried to prove themselves on the battlefield.

Shortly after the tragic incident with the C Company replacements, the 1st Battalion was moved back to a second defensive line as other units took over their original positions. C Company was notified on March 17 that it was to carry out a company-strength diversionary attack toward the town of Sessano, on the other side of the Mussolini Canal. A forward artillery observer of the 376th PFAB, 1st Lt. Harold A. Stueland, and his assistant, T/5 Jack W. Blake, would accompany the patrol. A recently arrived artillery officer of the 376th, 29-year-old 2nd Lt. Howard L. Frohman from New Haven, Connecticut, received permission from his battalion commander to come along. Frohman had graduated at the Fifth Army Airborne Training Center in Oujda, after serving in an infantry division in the Mediterranean Theater.

Two other replacements also managed to join the patrol. First Lieutenant Robert S. Currier from Wilmington, Delaware, had just joined A Company in the “rest area” when he heard of the upcoming C Company patrol. Currier successfully requested permission from the battalion commander to accompany C Company in order to obtain some experience. Along with another new arrival, 1st Lt. Currier would be in the rear of the company.⁴⁵²

“Between us and the German lines,” 1st Lt. Stueland remembered, “was an open, flat area of about one thousand yards wide. A road from Bridge Number 5 across the canal to Sessano bisected our sector. Small houses lined the road. Extensive minefields, known and unknown, spotted all over the open ground. Small drainage ditches ran parallel to the canal at right angles to the road.

“The main center of the enemy strongpoint was near the crossroads of the town. Double apron wire and minefields surrounded the outskirts of the town in a semicircle. Two known machine guns were sited to fire grazing fire down the road and along each side of it. One house on the outskirts had three machine guns. At night, two were downstairs and the other in the second story. During the day, another was located in a deep dugout somewhere in front of it. The entire sector was covered with interlocking bands of fire from other guns on either flank—grazing fire. Mortars were zeroed in along the road and outside the wire.

“C Company, 504th Parachute Infantry, was to move from the canal bank after dark, go parallel to the road until the farthest outpost house was reached. From there, the route lay at right angles to the road for about six hundred yards, skirting a known minefield. On the town side of the minefield an irrigation ditch ran back towards the road, passing within a few yards of the enemy wire. This was the place selected for the breach.

“Artillery fire was to try to roll up the wire and blast a hole in the minefield, the craters to be utilized by the initial attacking element. As soon as they were inside the enemy defences, the rest of the company would pour through and kill or capture the enemy. The plan was to hold the town for an hour to draw enemy troops and then retire to our own lines.”⁴⁵³

Major Julian A. Cook, the 1st Battalion executive officer, would be in overall charge of the reinforced company patrol, that would also include the 1st Platoon of C Company, 307th AEB, led by 1st Lt. Melvin C. Ullrich. The engineers had been provided with Bangalore torpedoes for the first time to blow up the extensive amount of barbed-wired entanglements that had been encountered on the night of March 16 and 17 by 1st Lt. Travis T. Womack and a small detail. Womack reported that there was little cover on the east side of the road, so Capt. Milloy and Maj. Cook decided to attack up the west side.⁴⁵⁴

Several hours before the raid on Sessano was to take place, 1st Lt. Stueland used the daylight hours to prearrange registered fire points: “I adjusted 155mm howitzers on the minefield and wire before the strongpoint in Sessano. During adjustment, one round struck the house known to contain three machine guns, demolishing half of it.”⁴⁵⁵

That evening at 2030 hours the following entry was made in the 3rd Battalion Unit Journal: “Major Wellems reports 1st Battalion at houses 6 & 7. Plan: Bangalore torpedoes to be set under wire. As soon as they Boom, our raiding unit jumps off. (Company H: raiding unit). Our raid in conjunction with raid by Company C, 1st Battalion and Special Service Force.”⁴⁵⁶ The radio call sign for Sessano would be “Boom Town.”

Two hours later C Company reported by radio that it was ready to move out. Half an hour later Maj. Edward N. Wellems, the regimental S-3 officer, reported that the First Special Service Force had called its contribution off: the raid would be an “All American 504th Regimental Combat Team” deal. First to move out was 1st Lt. Ullrich’s engineer platoon. They made their way to the first farmhouse without coming across any barbed wire or anti-personnel mines. First Lieutenant Ullrich awaited the arrival of Capt. Milloy and Maj. Cook and told them what had taken place. C Company reported by radio at 0055 hours that the Bangalore torpedoes were not needed and that they would move forward.

With C Company taking the lead, the engineers fell in behind the company and they moved to the first house. “About dusk, the artillery party left the protection of the canal to lay wire ahead of the infantry for the initial phase,” recalled 1st Lt. Stueland. “We reached the farthest outpost house just as machine gun fire swept the road and area. Fire was adjusted to silence the gun. When the rear of the infantry company passed across the exposed road, [2nd] Lieutenant Frohman and I followed, laying wire. I left the wireman and a phone there to call for artillery on the machine gun covering the road, in case it opened up again.

“When we reached the shelter of the drainage ditch on either side of the large minefield, I took up my position at the side of Major Cook. The initial attacking elements were heard by the enemy and fired on by mortars, Panzerfausts, and machine guns. The sound of their feet in their muddy ditch was clearly audible.

“When they hit the ground and crawled, their automatic weapons were fouled beyond use. Replacements [for the weapons] were brought forward, and the attack was resumed. Our bazooka teams were firing at the flashes of machine guns, but enemy mortars caused many casualties, and the attacking platoon set off booby traps and flares.

“I recommended close artillery support to cover the sound of our movement and make the enemy keep their heads down. Major Cook agreed, so I adjusted one battery, each gun individually. The enemy fire died abruptly and was only resumed when rushes were being made. We were so close to the enemy that a great volume of artillery fire was impractical. As it was, some of our rounds landed within twenty-five yards of the ditch. A percentage of hits were scored on the observable bulk of enemy-occupied buildings …

“The tip of the moon began to come in view, so on orders of the regimental commander, the attacking force prepared to withdraw. I called for a battery right at ten-second intervals and another battery to cover the machine guns covering the road and last half of the return route. Under cover of close artillery fire, the company withdrew down the drainage ditch.

“When the end of the column carrying the dead and wounded passed, I … brought the fire down a trifle closer. Lieutenant Frohman and I withdrew [and] checked in at the outpost house, giving information of the exact location of the troops. No enemy fire was delivered from the time we started evacuating until we reached the safety of the canal bank.

“I tied into the wire and reported our location again. While cutting, trying, and tagging the line, the infantry company disappeared in the dark. Hurrying to catch them, Lieutenant Frohman and I got off the narrow path into an unmarked minefield and were both wounded. Lieutenant Frohman could not walk. I got help [and] led them into the minefield and out again with the stretcher. Lieutenant Frohman was evacuated that morning to a clearing station. The attack did not penetrate the defenses of the strongpoint, but the diversion it created drew reserves from critical portions of the line … Mission Accomplished.”⁴⁵⁷

The engineers reported at 0155 hours that the “Tram Road” was clear of mines, but not the ditch. Three times C Company tried to penetrate the German defensive positions across machine-gun covered roads, minefields, and between cross-firing gun emplacements. Miraculously no one was killed until around 0220 hours when Maj. Cook reported over the radio that they were pinned down. First Lieutenant Thomas J. Foley, Jr., of Headquarters Company was killed by enemy fire. One of his close friends, 1st Lt. James H. Goethe of C Company, refused to leave his body behind when ordered to do so by Cook: “He almost shot me because I literally forced him to help carry Foley in when he was killed. Foley stayed in the frontline continually as he had lifted some money from the officer’s club in the States.”⁴⁵⁸ Ironically, 1st Lt. Foley was the last officer to be killed on the Anzio Beachhead.

Twenty minutes after Maj. Cook had reported that they were being pinned down, Lt. Col. Williams asked to speak to Capt. Milloy on the radio. Milloy confirmed the story of Cook: “We are pinned down by mortar fire.” They requested permission to withdraw. Williams said he would first confer with Col. Tucker. Ten minutes later, at 0255 hours, Tucker called Cook and gave him permission to leave at 0315 hours. At the same time H Company received permission as well to withdraw with two wounded.

While this all took place, 1st Lt. Currier of A Company was still following the rear of C Company with another officer. They watched the firefight in a crouching position from a distance. After a while it became silent again. They slowly made their way forward but could not spot any other paratroopers: C Company had obviously taken a different return route to the American lines. For a while it looked as if the two officers were lost, but they finally managed to find their way back to the American lines. Back in the A Company area 1st Lt. Currier shared his experiences with the anxiously waiting 2nd Lt. Breard.⁴⁵⁹

At 0600 hours on March 20, Capt. Willard E. Harrison, the 3rd Battalion executive officer, left for Naples to prepare a base location for the battalion. It was the first sign that the regimental combat team at last might leave the Anzio Beachhead. H Company furnished a ten-man patrol that day and another patrol the next night to take prisoners. Both were unsuccessful. “During the day we stayed inside the buildings, out of sight,” recalled Pfc. Albert Tarbell of H Company. At night there were a lot of combat patrols—I went on quite a few. The patrol could be four men, it could be six men. Or it could be up to twenty. This one night that we went out, one of our .50-caliber machine guns started firing at us. They didn’t know that we were going to be out there in front. We hit the ground the minute that gun opened up. But we sent word back that we were on patrol, and our gun stopped. When the guys started to move out, everybody tapped the guy behind him. You would just say, ‘Let’s go.’ You would whisper. So I was tapping the guy behind me, and he wouldn’t move.”⁴⁶⁰

At first Tarbell was surprised the man did not move. Then it started to dawn on him: he had tapped a dead German. But meanwhile his comrades ahead of him had disappeared. Suddenly a soldier appeared behind him who whispered nervously, “I’m Stewart, I’m Stewart. Who are you?” It was Pfc. William F. Stewart, another replacement. Tarbell indentified himself and admitted he had lost the men ahead of them: “Luck had it that we were able to follow the trail the others were taking—engineers would go just ahead of our patrols to check for mines, and they would tie ribbons to show where it was safe to walk. We followed those ribbons until we caught up with the rest. They knew that we had been lost.”⁴⁶¹

Many night patrols of the 504th PIR on the Anzio Beachhead would have ended in disaster without the vital contribution of C Company of the 307th AEB. It was something that 2nd Lt. Carl Mauro learned quickly while on the line. During the journey across the Atlantic Ocean he had befriended 2nd Lt. John A. Holabird, Jr., who joined the airborne engineers on the Anzio Beachhead. Mauro recalled that “our battalion depended on the engineer company that was attached to us to do the dirty work; they were skilled at it. When it was darkest, the combat engineers would creep out in front of our lines to ascertain that our enemy was not doing to us what we were about to do to them. It was sort of a game.

“The engineers went out first and cleared enemy mines, barbed-wire, and booby-traps so our patrols could move about. They also did the reverse: set up our own mines, barbed-wire and booby-traps to deter the enemy. They devised and placed trip wires that when touched or stretched would activate our flares sending them skyward to illuminate acres of ground. This, of course, is what the patrols wanted to avoid most of all.”⁴⁶²

During the night of March 20/21 the engineers, less 1st Lt. Travis Womack and five enlisted men of the 1st Platoon, traveled by truck to a staging area close to the town of Anzio. Womack’s detail stayed behind for one more day to show the relieving engineers of the 34th Infantry Division where they had set up their minefields, kept their equipment, etc. Of the 9 officers and 117 enlisted men who had landed on January 22, a total of 3 officers and 9 enlisted men had been wounded. Miraculously no one had been killed despite the many patrols they carried out; the repairing and building of twenty foot bridges and two 20-ton bridges across the Mussolini Canal and Cisterna River; the laying of 11,000 yards of anti-personnel minefields, 500 yards of anti-tank fields, and roadblocks; the preparation of thirty bridges and culverts for demolition; the demolition of a 40-ton bridge across the Mussolini Canal; the setting up of fifty machine-gun and mortar positions; and the laying of several thousand yards of barbed-wire entanglements.⁴⁶³

Equally important was the contribution of the 376th PFAB. Not only during the raid on Sessano, but also on numerous occasions before and afterwards, they remained in close support of the RCT. Their observers directed artillery fire from poorly located OPs on flat terrain, often in sight of their German counterparts who looked down from the Alban Hills. Counter-battery fire killed three officers and seven enlisted men, and two officers and twenty-six men were wounded. Another six officers and ninety-eight enlisted men had to be evacuated due to sickness and physical exhaustion.

Fire of the dispersed 57mm anti-tanks guns of D Battery with the three infantry battalions and the twelve 75mm howitzers of A, B, and C batteries were highly instrumental in repulsing the numerous German counterattacks, which might have succeeded without their support. Approximately 42,000 shells were fired during their time on the Anzio Beachhead. Upon their relief on March 20, 45 officers and 650 enlisted men were present for duty. The battalion had landed with 43 officers and 548 other ranks on January 22, and despite the casualties suffered had been reinforced by the large number of replacements that subsequently flowed in.⁴⁶⁴