Previous 
S/Sgt. Hubert C. Grimes: Trains Recon  
Up 
Table of Contents 
next 
 Edward Ewers: A Damn Yankee in the 231st 

6th AD patch

A Brief Battle,
A Long Day

by Frank Kotoski, 15th Tank Battalion, 6th Armored Division
Copyright  ©  1998, Sixth Armored Division Assn. All rights reserved.

Introduction

Frank Kotoski writes the 15th Tank Bn. column  for the Super Sixer, the newsletter of the Sixth Armored Division Assn. When I sent out a request for personal stories to add to this web site, he was one of the first to respond. I was especially pleased to receive his contribution, since the tank battalions have been very under-represented on this site, and an armored division wouldn't be much of an armored division without its tanks. His account below contains events and details that a non-veteran would never think about: when a Sherman tank was buttoned up, the driver depended on a periscope to see; if snow covered the persicope, the driver couldn't see and somebody had to climb outside, even under fire, to clear it off.  This story captures the essence of the Battle of the Bulge -- snow, freezing temperatures, and determined German resistance. 



Some of the details of what happened on the day of which I write have faded from my memory.  Time has erased most of the details of how we got to where we were, what the task force consisted of or even knowing exactly where we were.  Still it is not possible to erase from even a fragile memory the happenings of that single day which will not go down in history, or even be recorded as having been of any great significance; but some of us died on this day, some were wounded, some captured and some lucky enough to see another day.  And so it was with many of the "little battles" which somehow add up to being one big war.  These are the times forgotten which deserve to be remembered.

I was a Staff Sgt.  Tank Commander of a medium (Sherman) tank in the third platoon of Company A of the 15th Tank Battalion, a unit of the Sixth Armored Division, part of Patton's Third Army.  We had been fighting in the Saar region in December of 1944 and were getting a breather in Merlebach when we were ordered to move out and up into what would become known as the Bulge.  We would slip and slide our way into Bastogne and the surrounding areas on the last days of 1944 and the first of January, 1945.  Oh, what a way to ring out the old and ring in the new!!!

My crew consisted of Pvt.  Fraley Hall, Bow Gunner (asst. driver) Pvt.  Mike Cosabile, Driver; and in the turrett Pfc George Simpson, Loader and Elma Sullivan, Gunner, with me as Commander also in the turret.  All of us had been together since we landed on Utah beach in July of 1944 with the exception of Cosabile.  I had had enough experience with a few drivers who did their best, but never should have been drivers.  So, not having worked with Mike I was apprehensive, to say the least, about going into any kind of a skirmish without a chance to work together at all, in fact I didn't even know how much experience Mike had, although he had been with the company during all our training in the states.  I was in the habit of leaving as much judgement to my driver as possible so that I could concentrate on whatever was occuring around us and a top notch driver could make the difference between disaster and survival.  And that is how we entered into our first brief battle in the Bulge just outside of Bastogne, with me in a very nervous state of mind.  Most of us were still suffering from diarhhea the result of a Thanksgiving Day meal that had been courageously delivered to us while we were still advancing in the Saar.  So we had come into the Bulge in less that good shape.

The history of the 15th Tank Battalion shows that the battalion was minus A Company between January 2 and January 14 of 1945and that Company A was attached to Task Force Britton for the CCA plan to attack at 1000 hrs on the second, to clear the woods east of Neffe and to capture the towns of Wardin and Benonchamps and seize the high ground northeast of Benonchamps.  It is not clear in the history as to the assignment of Task Force Britton but I believe we were a part of that activity and that my story takes place on the first day of the action.

It is my recollection that we were working with a substantial number of infantry men as we moved along a paved roadway in a heavily wooded area.  When all hell broke loose as a result of what was a real ambush, our platoon of five tanks under the leadership of Lt.  L. Dean McVeigh maneuvered as well as possible into the woods in an effort to gain a better position.  I have no idea of what was happening to the infantry or the other tanks during those few minutes.  I was not able to engage the enemy there being so much confusion and fear of firing at our own troops.  Then, we were suddenly in a clearing along with McVeigh but no other tanks in sight and no infantry; just a lot of small arms firing and desperate talk on the radio.  It was now a matter of getting out of these woods and back into the open area that we had come from, to form some kind of a line of defense and to wait for some orders as to how to proceed.

As my tank, named "Army Mule", was only about 40 yards away from McVeigh I was in clear view of his position.  He appeared to be attempting to face where the small arms firing was coming from.  He could see that I was waiting for him to make a move in my direction and that there was a narrow trail that we might take out of the woods which surrounded us.  Then he waved to me to go and so I did .... but I was not far along the trail when I realized that he wasn't following.  With the heavy snow that had fallen on the days before,all of the branches were hanging down across what was a pathway only as wide as our tank.

We were beating the snow off the trees and it was falling on the periscopes so that Mike, our driver could not see.  There was no room to turn around, no way to back up, no way to turn the turret to face where I believed the enemy to be and there we were, stopped cold in the worse possible position to be with our rear to the Krauts.  Whatever possessed me to leave the turret must have been a combination of panic and desperation but there I was on the front slope of the tank clearing the snow off Mike's sight, trying to get him to open his hatch and hoping to get out of the woods in one piece.  By then some of the enemy had moved toward us and began to fire from amongst the trees, no bazookas just rifle and machine guns.  But I was pinned down and we still weren't moving and I could not take the chance of returning to the turret..I never would have made it.  And so it was that training and teamwork took over ... Elma Sullivan, our gunner, sensing that something was amiss ( I just wasn't where I should be, right behind him with a hand on his shoulder) came up into the hatch opening, armed with several hand grenades which he threw until the firing stopped and I was able to return to my position in the turret.  Still Mike hadn't opened his hatch and I figured we had to get out of there while we could.  So we got lucky and made it out within a minute or two, started up a long open field with more woods about twenty yards to our right, got about fifty yards up the hill, threw a track and found ourselves all alone and unable to move.  The five of us dismounted, saw that we would never be able to get the track back on what with the deep snow and not knowing what our situation was.  Where was the enemy?  Where were the rest of our tanks?  Where was our infantry?  Now there was no firing.  Everything went quiet.  What to do?  To top it all off, Mike had injured his back and that was why he was having so much difficulty.  I decided to abandon "Army Mule" but not destroy her in the hopes that we could return with help.  We pulled the radios at just about the moment when one last tank, commanded by Lt.  Ike Lair came out of the woods, paused long enough to take the radios and Elma, Fraley and George.  Mike was not able to climb up onto Ike's tank and Ike was trying to get to the top of the hill where the command was trying to establish a reasonable defensive position.  So I stayed with Mike and somehow we managed to drag our way up the side of that miserable, snow covered hill about half a mile until we could get some help from the Medics.  Mike said thanks and I never saw him again.  I learned later that Lt.  McVeigh, one of the best, was taken prisoner and his entire crew was killed.

When it grew dark and I had gathered my crew, minus Mike, at a farmhouse where a headquarters had been established, I received orders to relieve Lt.  Ike Lair who was positioned about a mile away.  We trudged through that deep snow, weary and unsure of what the night would bring and not knowing exactly where Ike and his tank were.  It was quiet, too quiet.  Sort of peaceful.  It was still the Christmas season.  Silent Night, Holy Night, I thought.  We finally found Ike's tank without ever seeing of hearing friend or foe.  Strange how lonely a war can be.

I climbed up on the tank.  They were all buttoned up trying to get warm.  The hell with the enemy.  And then when Ike opened up he refused to leave, and back me and my men went.  I recalled later that we had not fired a single shot from any of our guns.We had never before been forced to retreat and never again would.  It was a very brief battle but a very long day.
 
 
 
 
 



 
Previous 
S/Sgt. Huber C. Grimes: Trains Recon 
Up 
Table of Contents 
next 
 Edward Ewers: A Damn Yankee in the 231st

Return to 6th Armored home page.   

NOTE: Remove question mark from email address below when sending email.

Page maintained by Bruce Frederick
Last update: August 29, 1998
Invisible gif