The Trap that Doomed Kampfgruppe Peiper

Kampfgruppe Peiper during the Ardennes Offensive.

by Alfred J. Palfey

When units are separated from the division, as the 33rd Armored Regiment and Task Force Lovelady was in the Bulge, communications are often lacking. This was the case of our initial action there, therefore I decided to put all the loose ends together with this story.

The tale is more of a summary and omits many interesting events, for example:

Near the end of the engagement, Major George Stallings, like Col. Joachim Peiper of the 1st SS, was running short of supplies. At one time he considered surrendering.

Doctor (Captain) A. Eaton Roberts was changing his radio from his peep to the aid station, when Stallings was attempting to alert him of the German infiltration.

Doc Roberts commandeered a light tank and first reported his dilemma to me at Grand-Coo. It wasn’t until our reunion at Omaha in 1992, when discussing the battle with Aurio J. Pierro that the mystery of a tank missing from his platoon was solved.

A German soldier in a makeshift U.S. Army uniform was killed near our radio relay station at Grand-Coo. While searching him a billfold of our missing reconnaissance officer, Lt. George E. Gray, was found. Gray had been captured. We assumed he was dead. You can imagine my surprise when I met Lt. Gray at the 1991 reunion at St. Louis (dividend for attending reunions).

We devised a unique system to keep Lt. Col. William B. Lovelady informed on the battle at Petit-Coo. We laid a telephone line to the outskirts of town and improvised a telephone system using radio handsets in series with a six-volt dry cell battery.

The action at Petit-Coo was so intense that a light tank crew member could not operate his machine gun with wounded and dangling fingers—so he chewed them off!

Had Peiper decided to retreat on the highway to Trois-Ponts, rather than crossing the Ambléve at La Gleize, my position at Grand-Coo was the first obstacle in his path—and this story probably would not be in our files.

“The Trap”

While browsing through the 3rd Armored (Spearhead) Division files, I found the attached memo written by Colonel William B. Lovelady, my task force commander. The event occurred on our initial thrust into the Belgium Bulge, when Combat Command B (CCB) was attached to the 30th Infantry Division. The Colonel’s item is an incident in what may have been one of the most significant battles of the Belgium Bulge. With reference to the attached map, here is the rest of the story.

The decisive role of the German Ardennes offensive was to be executed by the 1st SS Panzer Division. This division was known as Hitler’s own, having its origins to Hitler’s first bodyguard. More specifically, the offensive was to be spearheaded by the beefed-up (5,800-man) Kampf­gruppe commanded by SS Lt. Col. Joachim Peiper, an experienced hero of the Russian Front. After the initial breakthrough, Peiper’s objective was to cross the Meuse River at Huy, Belgium, between Liege and Namur.

A clause in the Kampfgruppe’s order expressly stated that prisoners of war were to be shot, where the conditions of combat should so require it. This decree was first demonstrated at Baugnez, site of the Malmédy Massacre.[1]

Shortly after breakthrough, the 1111th Engineer Combat Group was ordered to cover the area south of the Ambléve River, to provide a screening force for the 1st Army Headquarter at Spa.

On 18 December, Peiper’s leading elements had reached Stavelot and Trois-Ponts on the north side of the Ambléve. Moments before their arrival, the 291st Engineers had blown three bridges—one over the Ambléve at Trois-Ponts and two on the Salm River south of Trois-Ponts. Peiper was now forced to turn north to La Gleize, rather than to follow his planned crossing of the Ambléve for the most direct route to his objective. To further complicate matters, the river on his left and the high wooded hills on the right limited his route to the valley road to La Gleize.

Combat Command B, now attached to the 30th Infantry Division, was ordered to clear the north bank of the Ambléve River between La Gleize and Stavelot. General Boudinot formed three task forces. Task Force Jordan was to move south to Stoumont, Task Force McGeorge south to La Gleize, and Lovelady’s Task Force, the largest of the group, was to clear the highway between La Gleize and Stavelot.

The attack started on the morning of 20 December, from an area south of Spa. At this time Peiper’s leading elements had passed through La Gleize and reached Stoumont where they were halted by units of the 30th Infantry Division. Both Task Force Jordan and Task Force McGeorge ran head-on into Peiper’s main force, and were stopped about one-quarter mile short of their objective. However, this action changed thoughts Peiper had of turning north to Liege. With his dangerously low fuel supply, his efforts may have been more intense had he known of the vast fuel depot located between the two task forces.

Task Force Lovelady turned left at Grand-Coo. Approaching Trois-Ponts they met a column of German guns, infantry, and supply vehicles which were quickly riddled to pieces. The first of many attempts to reinforce Peiper had failed.

The noose was tightening on Peiper. Although he had found a bridge over the Ambléve intact at Cheneux, his advance in that sector was halted by the 82nd Airborne Division. The 82nd’s front on the south side of the Ambléve extended east to the Salm River.

D Company of Task Force Lovelady advanced to the outer fringe of Stavelot at Parfondruy. Here they witnessed atrocities committed upon Belgian men, women and children by Peiper’s SS troops.

At Trois-Ponts, E Company was engaged in clashes with the 2nd SS Panzer Regiment in their effort to break through to Peiper’s advanced units. The E Company commander, Lt. Hope, was killed and Maj. Stallings assumed command.

Captain “Doc” Robert’s medics, guarded by Lt. Pierro’s platoon of B Company’s light tanks, were stationed at Petit-Coo. Chief Warrant Officer Palfey moved to the railway station at Grand-Coo to relay radio messages to Stallings. The high hills in the area blocked radio communications with Lovelady’s command post at Roanne.

It was during this interval when the young lieutenant from the 82nd Airborne Division made contact with Colonel Lovelady, as written in the attached memo. He informed the Colonel that CCB and the 30th Infantry Division were now attached to the XVIII Airborne Corps, commanded by General Ridgway.

Some elements of the 2nd SS Panzer Regiment infiltrated across the Ambléve over a foot bridge east of Trois-Ponts at Petit-Spai and bypassed Stallings tanks. On the afternoon of 22 December they attacked Captain Roberts’ aid station at Petit-Coo. Fierce fighting raged on into the night. Both D and E Companies were now separated from the task force, however, they continued to resist efforts to reinforce Peiper from the east.

The following morning units of the 30th Infantry Division began clearing the SS from the aid station at Petit-Coo. Later in the day Petit-Coo was cleared and contact was made with D and E Companies. Another attempt to break through to Peiper had failed.

Several efforts by Peiper to break out at Stoumont, Cheneux and in Task Forces Jordan’s and McGeorge’s sector were unsuccessful. Supplies of gasoline, munitions, food and medications were virtually exhausted. Requests to retreat were denied, having been assured that reinforcements were forthcoming.

Finally, on the night of 23 December, after destroying their equipment at La Gleize, Peiper led the remnants, eight hundred men of the kampfgruppe, on a foot retreat. They crossed the Ambléve on a wooden bridge south of La Gleize into the 82nd Airborne Division area. Moving only in darkness, they finally rejoined their division south of Trois-Ponts, after wading the cold and rapid Salm River.

Thus ended the exploits of the once mighty Kampfgruppe Peiper. Starting with about 5,800 men, sixty tanks (some Tiger IIs), three flak tanks, seventy-five half-tracks, fourteen 20mm flak wagons, twenty-seven 75mm assault guns, plus 105- and 150mm self-propelled howitzers, the group was now trimmed down to eight hundred scraggly SS troopers.

Obviously, this situation relieved the pressure on Combat Command B. They then rejoined the division and went on to win other battles.

Peiper was sentenced to death at the war crimes trial. In 1954 his sentence was reduced to thirty-five years. He was paroled in 1956 after serving eleven years. In the summer of 1976 fire bombs destroyed Peiper’s house and killed the former commander of Kampfgruppe Peiper.[2]

The Memo

On 22 December 1944, about 9:30 p.m., a young lieutenant from the 82nd Airborne was brought to my command post. He was wet, cold and his face was all blackened. He had swam, waded or whatever across the Ambléve River to contact one of our outposts. He told them he had information for the commanding officer and asked to be taken there. You can imagine my surprise and gratitude to see him, since we had not been in contact with friendly forces for three days and to learn that the paratroopers were just across the river cheered us. His message was that we were now attached to the XVIII Airborne Corps. He gave me a sketch of the disposition of forces just across the river, and asked me for a similar sketch or diagram of our forces. (Generally, just strung out across the road with the Ambléve River on the right, and a steep wooded hill on our left.)

Just before he left, he asked if we needed anything. We told him that the Germans were dug in on the hill to our left and we needed artillery or mortars. He offered help. He said he would shoot a line across the river at dawn and we could call for and direct the fire from their howitzers. This was done and we soon neutralized the enemy on the hill. This experience was one of the greatest in our five campaigns. We have no record of this incident in our book, regimental or Combat Command “B” logs, and most if not all of the individuals that knew of this have either passed on or are out of contact. Perhaps there is a mention of this incident in the airborne or regimentals journals.

William B. Lovelady, Colonel, U.S. Army, Ret.

1 June 1989

 

 

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[1] Editor’s Note: This implies there was a written order to this effect, and all current historical research indicates there was never any written order to execute prisoners. Some accounts believe a verbal order was given—after being told they should not let anything stop the advance, one officer asked what they should do with any prisoners taken, and the reply being “You know what to do with prisoners.” Many automatically assume this meant to execute them, but those who were there insist it was nothing more than the briefest of instructions to handle the prisoners the way they should be dealt with—but certainly not implying to execute them.

[2] Editor’s Note: Although fire bombs appear to have destroyed Peiper’s home, his body was found outside, alongside a shotgun. He had been killed by gunfire.

 

Follow-up Interview with Joachim Peiper

Joachim Peiper.

U.S. Army

The following is a reprint of ETHINT 11, prepared by the U.S. Army. Copy obtained from the National Archives, Washington, D.C. Answers were re-transcribed by the interviewer.

According to captured maps depicting the axis of advance for 1 and 12 SS Panzer Divisions, the latter is given three routes and the former two. The most southern 12 SS Panzer Division route lies from Losheim to Losheimergraben to Buellingen to Butgenbach, etc. Obst. Peiper has stated that his regiment’s route lay from Scheid to Losheim to Losheimergraben to Huenningen to Honsfeld. This would appear to leave 12 SS Panzer Division two poor “penetration” routes into the Rocherath area through heavily forested terrain from the direction of Hollerath and Neuhof. The map also shows the northern route of 1 SS Panzer Division as springing from Lanzerath, but Obst. Peiper states that this route was taken only after the Losheim – Losheimergraben route proved to be unusable because of resistance and the blown bridge. Can Obst. Peiper explain this further? Was the Losheim – Losheimergraben route taken away from 12 SS Panzer Division and given to 1 SS Panzer Division, thus changing the original plan?

The route from Losheim to Honsfeld was that designated for 1 SS Panzer Division; however, Buellingen was on the route of 12 SS Panzer Division. Due to the conditions of the road west from Honsfeld through Hepscheid to Moder­scheid, Obst. Peiper chose the better route and proceeded through Buellingen to Richelsbusch to Moderscheid. At the time, 1 SS Panzer Regiment was considerably in advance of the elements of 12 SS Panzer Division. Therefore the road would not be congested by two columns, one from each division. In addition, Peiper knew that large stores of gasoline were in the town of Buellingen. In the town they captured some 30,000 gallons (liters?) [In ETHINT 10, Obst. Peiper speaks of capturing 200,000 liters of gasoline in Buel­lingen, or about 52,500 gallons.] of gasoline in cans. Some artillery fire and direct fire was received from the high ground and woods about two kilometers northwest of the town. After refueling, the column continued to the southwest and closed upon its originally designated axis of advance. At the time of the initial assault, the tanks had only enough gas for approximately 50 miles of operation—approximately one-half of the basic load, without any reserve.

Did elements of 12 SS Panzer Division use the Lanzerath route to reach Buellingen after 1 SS Panzer Division had moved on to the west?

The elements of 12 SS Panzer Division were stopped by an American counterattack north of Buellingen, where they were halted and unable to advance. The 12 SS Panzer Division was later withdrawn from the vicinity and sent to follow the axis of the penetration of 1 SS Panzer Regiment. To Peiper’s knowledge, 12 SS Panzer Division did not pass through Buellingen. It circled, instead, and came into the axis of advance of 1 SS Panzer Regiment at Honsfeld. [12 SS Panzer Division did not enter Buellingen from the direction of Rocherath but moved up from Lanzerath to Honsfeld to Buellingen. —First Lieutenant George M. Tuttle]

Did 1 SS Panzer Regiment make any attempt to move up into Butgenbach from Buellingen? If no attempt was made in force, were reconnaissance elements sent from Buellingen in the direction of Butgenbach? In the direction of Wirtzfeld?

No reconnaissance was sent toward Butgenbach from Buellingen, as they [1 SS Panzer Regi­ment?] were receiving heavy resistance from that direction. Peiper’s orders were to penetrate as far as possible and exploit his breakthrough. There­fore, he did not attempt to smash resistance on his flanks, as he expected 12 SS Panzer Division to move up and cover his northern flank. Peiper lost one Royal Tiger [King Tiger] tank west of Buellingen.

Was the bulk of 3 Fallschirmjäger Division left to hold the front between Waimes and Butgenbach? Did it follow immediately in the path of 1 SS Panzer Division? (It is understood that small elements of 3 FS Division were with 1 SS Panzer Regiment.) Where was the rest of 3 FS Division?

The 3 FS Division was responsible for holding the north flank behind the advancing armored columns. The 10 FS Regiment [5, 8 and 9 FS Regiments were organic to 3 FS Division. How­ever, this division was engaged in the Ardennes Offensive, and 4 FS Division, to which 10 FS Regiment was assigned, was not; therefore the regiment in question must have been one from 3 FS Division], 3 FS Division, was attached to follow 1 SS Panzer Regiment. The remainder of the division moved northward after the armor had passed to the west and held a line generally between Butgenbach and Waimes. The 3 FS Divi­sion had been annihilated in previous cam­paigns in Normandy and at the time of the Ardennes attack was composed of a large number of air force personnel who were former ground and flight crews. [Paratroopers in the Wehrmacht were a part of the Luftwaffe; thus much of the personnel did not have suitable infantry training.] The commanding officer of 10 FS Regiment was a Luftwaffe staff obst. with little if any ground force experience. Obst. Peiper was an obstlt. at the time and was more or less outranked. The new result was that the armored column did not obtain efficient cooperation with the infantry. One battalion of infantry, however, worked in close cooperation with the tanks in the capture of Honsfeld, and elements amounting to about a reinforced company were still riding the tanks when Peiper’s forces reached Stavelot. The remainder of 3 FS Division moved up to hold the line on the north flank, as previously stated.

Was any attempt made to return to the Losheim–Losheimergraben road after moving north out of Lanzerath on the night of 16/17 December 1944? If it had been possible to cross the railroad and move up into Losheimergraben, the possi­bility of withdrawal for 99th Infantry Division (U.S.) elements would have been seriously interfered with, if not completely eliminated. (It is understood that this was not the mission of 1 SS Panzer Division.) Was this known at the time? Did the possibility, if known, enter into Obst. Peiper’s plans?

Peiper was aware of the fact that he could have cut off a battalion, approximately one thousand men, of 99th Infantry Division (U.S.), in the woods east of Lanzerath. However, he did not do so because it was of prime importance to exploit his breakthrough and drive on for gasoline. Therefore, Peiper did not deviate from his axis of advance.

In the move to the west, did any elements of 1 SS Panzer Division, reconnaissance or otherwise, enter Faymonville or Waimes? What information on his northern flank did Obst. Peiper have at the time?

Reconnaissance was not sent into Faymonville or Waimes because no resistance was received from the northern flank, and Peiper, who was out of contact with 12 SS Panzer Division, believed that his right flank would be covered by 12 SS Panzer Division. In addition, insufficient gasoline pro­hibited any needless reconnaissance.

Can Obst. Peiper remember what elements were supposed to have stopped the regiment of 3 FS Division three times in its attempt to attack from Lanzerath toward Honsfeld on 16 December 1944? (Only elements of 3rd Battalion, 394th Infantry Regiment [U.S.], were north of Lanzerath, and being in a supposedly safe reserve position, they could not have been occupying well organized positions; Honsfeld was being used as a rest center by 99th Infantry Division [U.S.].) Who was there to stop them (3 FS Regiment)?

Obst. Peiper said the FS regiment supporting his unit was repulsed three times by elements of 99th Infantry Division (U.S.), consisting of what he thought was a battalion. The unsuccessful attack was due in his opinion to the lack of experience and infantry training of the commanding officer of the regiment a great many of his men, as mentioned in answer to one of the previous questions. Obst. Peiper’s tanks met no resistance when they pushed through 10 FS Regiment in the attack.

Just what method was used to move the German armored columns forward from Lanzerath on the night of 16/17 December 1944? Were vehicles led into Honsfeld by an enlisted man carrying a flashlight? (The night was exceptionally dark, according to an interview with one of the Honsfeld defenders who also claims that German tanks entered the town in this manner before any firing took place by other defenders positioned outside of the town on the Lanzerath road.) Under what conditions was the night march from Lanzerath to Honsfeld conducted?

Obst. Peiper moved out of Lanzerath at approximately 2400 on the night of 16 December 1944 and went through the woods towards Honsfeld, without encountering any opposition. Approximately one battalion of paratroopers provided flank protection on either side of the road, as the tanks moved through the woods. During the night some interdiction fire fell in the woods; however, none was effective. Some artillery fire came close as the tanks emerged from the woods toward Honsfeld. It was daylight, about 0500 or 0600, when this column reached Honsfeld. The occupants of the town were taken by complete surprise. The march was conducted under normal blackout conditions, with guides leading each tank holding a white handkerchief for identification, and flanking infantry on either side to protect the tanks from ambush. The march was made without incident except for sporadic artillery fire, which was not effective.

Obst. Peiper speaks of only one route having been used by 1 SS Panzer Division, i.e., the one which he took stemming from Lanzerath to Stavelot. We believe that there is evidence to conclude that this division had planned and did use another route also, i.e., one which had its origin in the vicinity of Krewinkel and whose axis of advance led through Wereth, Heppenbach, Mirfeld, Ambléve, Diedenberg, Born, Recht, and Trois Ponts. Does Obst. Peiper agree that a part of 1 SS Panzer Division took this route? If not, can he offer any explanation for the appearance of armor generally along this axis of advance?

The route mentioned: Wereth – Heppenbach – Mirfeld – Ambléve – Diedenberg – Born – Recht – and Trois Ponts was taken by other elements, which comprised the infantry regiment of 1 SS Panzer Division and the assault gun battalion. Other foot elements of the division followed this route to avoid congestion on the main axis of advance. The southern group met considerable resistance, losing eight or nine of their assault guns; however, it knocked out thirty American tanks. This group eventually was to reinforce Oberst Peiper but was held up and never made contact with him.

Oberst Peiper also mentioned that 2 Panzer Division was on his southern flank. It is known that this division was in the southern part of First (U.S.) Army zone, and that it crossed the Our River at Dasburg, due east of Clerf and 40 kilometers south of Malmédy. Who was on Oberst Peiper’s flank?

At Trois Ponts Oberst Peiper was out in front with no one on either flank. He was out of communication with his own division and due to technical difficulties with his radios and terrain could not communicate with all elements of his own columns, which was some 25 kilometers long.

Just what was known of the gas installations immediately south of Spa, and was there any intention to move north from Stoumont to capture these dumps? (Oberst Peiper denied that any of his men moved toward these dumps, but small columns went up both the valley and the ridge road from La Gleize toward these dumps, and one group actually hit the south edge of the dump.)

Before the start of the offensive Oberst Peiper was given a map marked with known American headquarters and supply installations. He knew of the gas in the one dump near Spa and also of the gasoline at Buellingen. He did not know of the presence of the other dump south of Francorchamps.

Why was no reconnaissance sent by Oberst Peiper’s group into Malmédy? Ordinarily wouldn’t flank reconnaissance be sent, even though the town was not in 1 SS Panzer Division zone of action?

Gas was getting low as Oberst Peiper’s column approached Stavelot. This reason and the fact that 12 SS Panzer Division was expected to move along the right flank, plus the fact that no resistance was being received from the north, made reconnaissance unnecessary. Heavy resistance from the towns of Ligneuville and Stavelot was the focus of Peiper’s attention. Later, the tanks were practically out of gas at Stoumont.

Give more detail on the column which crossed south of L’Ambléve River and headed for Werbomont, especially about the blowing of the bridge at Habiemont, the size of the force south of the river, and what alternate route was taken to cross the Lienne River.

The bridge over the Ambléve River was blown just in front of the leading tank. Reconnaissance was sent both north and south of the position. Small bridges were found; however, it was reported that they were too small for the 72-ton Royal Tiger tanks. The size of the force used was one reconnaissance company supported by several assault guns. The same force was sent to cross the Lienne River. It found a bridge which was too narrow to accommodate the heavy tanks; however, it crossed with its half-tracks and ran into a minefield in the area west of Chevron. This force also met heavy resistance from infantry and was annihilated. Only a few men from the force returned. The exact route taken by the reconnaissance was not known to Peiper, since he received negative information from the leaders of the unit.

Why did your columns even try to continue northwest from Stoumont up the valley road toward Aywaille, when it was obviously such a narrow road with steep gorges, which meant that even several tanks could stop you if placed at the right points?

The northwest route from Stoumont to Aywaille was chosen simply because it was the shortest route. The shortage of gasoline did not permit the selection of any alternative. Though the terrain was unfavorable for armor in view of all considerations, the shortage of gasoline pro­hibited any other choice. In addition, Peiper wanted to capture the bridge at Aywaille, which was one of the prime objectives in his original mission.

 

 

 

He Built a Better Mousetrap: Gerd Von Rundstedt and the Ardennes Offensive

Gerd von Rundstedt photographed as a Reichswehr general in the early 1930s, wearing the stand-and-fall gray collar of the period.

 

The trap had been prepared months before. The idea for the massive German counteroffensive in the Ardennes was first broached during the summer of 1944. “The Great Blow,” was how the German high command referred to the operation during its planning stages.

“The counteroffensive will be the great blow against the Allies,” Hitler told his generals. “The assault will drive the Americans and English back to the sea…”

Gerd von Rundstedt was the man who would serve as the genius of the “Great Blow.” A German general of the old school, a monocled, aristocratic Junker, von Rundstedt was an ideal choice for the task.

War was his sole interest—his entire life. He was one of those whose entire career was concerned exclusively with military matters. Gerd von Rundstedt considered warfare a cold, exact science. He could be relied upon to plan the huge campaign down to the last and tiniest detail.

There were other reasons why he was chosen. Main among these was the fact that he was popular with officers and men of the battered Wehrmacht. The grim-visaged, ramrod-straight general had earned and maintained the respect not only of the “regulars,” but even of the | troops who normally resented old-line regular Army commanders.

Dwight D. Eisenhower, the man who would be von Rundstedt’s opposite number, once the offensive began, was an individual of a far different stamp. Smiling and friendly, he was the typical product of the happy-go-lucky American civilization. Almost a genius at the horrendous task of getting the opposing personalities of a Grand Alliance to work together, his greatest strength was organization rather than strategy.

Eisenhower, though trained in the regular professional military tradition, preferred to depend heavily on staff analysis. A carry-outer rather than a thinker-upper, he failed to react swiftly enough when the chips were down, some said, and this might have caused a disastrous lapse.

Luckily for the Allied cause, the echelon immediately below him—Bradley, Patton and Montgomery—reacted by instinct. And that instinct helped save the battle.

And to make it even worse, Ike had been through it all before. In Africa, during the early days of fighting, he had committed raw, unblooded troops against veterans. At Kasserine Pass, he had walked into an almost identical trap. There, the British Eighth Army, advancing with hysterical speed from the south had saved his army. And the official scapegoat, Fredenhall, had saved his name.

The tense, critical days of the Ardennes battle—and the retrospective judgment of history—show that von Rundstedt was the best man for the job at hand. It was not von Rundstedt’s planning or his leadership that caused the failure of the drive. The campaign failed for other reasons.

Nor can it be truthfully said that American command or staff work turned the tide.

Actually, Gerd von Rundstedt succeeded in thoroughly out-thinking and surprising the Allied Supreme Commander. In short, he constructed an intricate, elaborate mousetrap—and succeeded in drawing “Ike” Eisenhower into it!

How the German Army managed to accomplish its incredible degree of total surprise and early victories is one of the great wonders of World War II.

In order to launch the offensive, it was necessary for von Rundstedt and Feldmarschall Walter Model, commander of German Army Group B to move—and to concentrate—tremendous numbers of men and quantities of materiel in a relatively small area.

On the opening day of the offensive alone, von Rundstedt’s plan called for hurling seventeen divisions—over 200,000 soldiers—against a narrow sector of the American line!

Behind this huge striking force—ready to move up and consolidate early gains—would stand more than a dozen reserve divisions. This tremendous mass of men was organized into three field armies—the Sixth Panzer under Dietrich, the Fifth Panzer under Manteuffel, and the Seventh Army commanded by Brandenberger.

Needless to say, it was a tremendous task to amass the tanks, guns, ammunition and supplies necessary for this force. Military analysts find their credulity sorely tested by the grim fact that neither Allied air reconnaissance nor Allied intelligence ever suspected that anything new or different was afoot.

To make matters ever more unbelievable, certain preliminary orders issued by the German High Command in preparation for the offensive actually fell into the hands of Allied intelligence. As early as October and November 1944, G-2 sections at various levels were in possession of German communications which gave ample warning of the forthcoming build-up and attack. Yet absolutely nothing was done with this information—it was not even relayed to field units. And so it happened…

The Allied armies had pulled up after a swift race across France. A halt was considered necessary to permit logistics and communications to catch up to the combat troops. Part of the Allied line ran through the Ardennes forest region of Belgium.

Unmindful—or rather unaware—of the German buildup taking place behind the enemy’s lines, the American command had few troops in the sector extending from Luxembourg in the south to St. Vith in the north.

Holding positions along the Schnee Eifel, a commanding hill-mass east of St. Vith, was the green, untried 106th Infantry Division. That unit plus the 4th and 28th Divisions and two combat commands of the 9th Armored Division, were the only outfits holding a line against which von Rundstedt would throw no less than eleven divisions in the first hours of the battle.

The German leaders had worked a miracle. Despite incessant Allied air raids against the Reich and its industry, they had collected nearly five thousand aircraft to use in the offensive. In addition to the new planes, among them Me 262 jets, the German war machine in the West had been equipped with new tanks and artillery pieces in large numbers.

All this equipment had been brought to the front under the very eyes of Allied air reconnaissance. For weeks, German roads leading to the front had been clogged with guns and vehicles. Some of the convoys had been spotted, true enough, and bombed and strafed. Yet, the majority got through.

“One of our biggest troubles was the air of wild optimism that pervaded SHAEF headquarters,” is the off-the-record admission of a retired American general. “We’d sliced across France and the top brass figured that Germany was licked. Anyone suggesting that the Germans had enough strength left to launch a counteroffensive would have been hooted down in the officers mess!”

There were some combat commanders who suspected something was up. Veteran front-line officers sensed there was something in the wind. Mainly on their own initiative, many of them ordered their fuel and supply drums moved far back behind the forward positions—one of the strokes that eventually contributed to the German defeat.

The attack that came on 16 December nonetheless caught the American Army flat-footed.

The assault went off like clock-work—exactly as Gerd von Rund­stedt had planned it. General Hasso von Manteuffel’s Fifth Panzer Army slammed into the unblooded 106th Division. The 106th went to pieces.

Observers even then found it difficult to understand why such a raw unit—the 106th had only recently arrived from the States—had been assigned a key holding position. The result of an attack against the division should have been a foregone conclusion.

In experience, men and officers were no match for Hitler’s hardened veterans. The 106th broke—and large segments of it ran—and two regiments, the 422nd and 423rd, were all but completely wiped out.

To the south of the 106th, two entire German corps struck the “Bloody Bucket” 28th Division—which was holding more than twenty-seven miles of the front.

Evidently, the heady perfume of victorious optimism still clogged the nostrils of the brass at SHAEF. Although seventeen Ger­man divisions had been committed in the opening stages of the battle, the reports from the front were shrugged off by SHAEF intelligence sections.

“Just a local diversion,” one top-level SHAEF G-2 officer decided.

Gerd von Rundstedt’s reports were received with jubilation in Berlin.

“I told the Führer on the first day of attack that surprise had been completely achieved,” Colonel General Alfred Jodl stated after the war. “The best indication was that no reinforcements were made in your sector before the attack.”

The German drive overwhelmed the thinly-spread American defense forces in the Ardennes. The line was pushed back. Regiments and divisions, out-numbered and out-gunned, were forced to fall back. For more than forty-eight hours, SHAEF seemed in a state of paralysis.

Fearful rumors spread and what had been optimism turned to gloom—and then to a state almost bordering on hysteria. Even ranking officers were carried away by the wave of defeatism that swept the rear areas.

“The Germans are unbeatable…”

“We’ll be licked…”

“They’ll have us fighting with our backs to the sea…”

First the German strength and potential had been under-estimated. Now, it was over-estimated.

Despite the showing it was making in the Ardennes, the slender resources of the Wehr­macht had been stretched beyond the breaking point. Fuel—for ground vehicles and aircraft—was the most serious shortage.

One of the most vital points in von Rundstedt’s planning called for swift movement—blitz thrusts through the American line—for the purpose of capturing U.S. fuel and oil dumps. Without this, he knew the drive could not be sustained. The panzer divisions had gasoline for only a few days—there were no reserves of gas left in Germany.

It is here that the foresight—almost bordering on occult perception—of the American field commanders paid off. Their action in moving their supply dumps to the rear denied the critically needed gasoline to the Germans.

The Battle of the Bulge was fought at the divisional, regimental, battalion and company levels. In the confusion and chaos that followed the first day, the courage and determination of front-line units saved the situation, rather than any “Big-Picture” strategic or tactical moves or decisions emanating from SHAEF.

Fierce defensive actions were fought at St. Vith by Brigadier General Bruce Clarke and his Combat Command B of the 7th Armored Division and at Bastogne, where airborne troopers were completely surrounded and cutoff.

These stands, as well as others, slowed the German drive and ruined von Rundstedt’s carefully planned timetable. The delaying actions were essential—for it was not until 22 December that George Patton’s Third Army brought the full weight of its counter-punch against the south side of the Bulge. It was also about that time that the weather cleared enough for Allied air to resume large-scale operations.

Patton’s attack and the resumption of air assaults sealed the fate of von Rundstedt’s offensive, but it was not until mid-January that the Allies were able to start a drive to recapture lost ground.

There is an old saw among military men to the effect that one side’s strategical success is automatically the other’s strategical blunder. If this were accepted at face value, then the Battle of the Bulge would be a textbook example to illustrate the theory.

Using the opposing commanders—von Rundstedt and Eisenhower—as the representative single symbols of the two armies which faced each other in the Ardennes, one must arrive at an inescapable conclusion.

The German general clearly achieved all the elements of strategic superiority. Through his planning and command, entire corps and fantastic masses of weapons and equipment were brought to a front-line sector from widely-separated areas without serious hitch and, more importantly, without the knowledge of the Allies.

The assault was a complete surprise. Conceived as a last-ditch measure, the counteroffensive was brilliantly executed and stood an excellent chance of succeeding up to the very last.

General Dwight Eisenhower’s intelligence service was faulty to the point of being virtually worthless in the period before and during the early stages of the battle. SHAEF G-2 was completely in the dark about German intentions—and grossly miscalculated enemy intentions and strength in the opening days of the Ardennes conflict.

In addition, it would almost appear that Eisenhower’s staff was unnerved by the implications of the Bulge. Starting with such decisions as those placing the unreliable 106th Division in a vital position and which spread divisions like the 28th over great stretches of front, SHAEF staff-work does not stand up under close scrutiny.

Decisions to shift other units to the Bulge to throw back the Germans seemed slow in coming. Several days elapsed before the full implication of the drive was realized and sufficient force diverted from other sectors to plug the gaps.

The coldly calculated offensive engineered by Gerd von Rundstedt, the stern-visaged Prussian, ended in defeat. It nearly ended differently, however. For von Rundstedt had built a trap—an excellent trap—and he had enticed Eisenhower into it.

Luckily for the Allies, although Ike walked into the trap, he had enough power and punch to fight his way out eventually. Otherwise, the story of World War II might have had an entirely different ending…

 

Hitler and von Rundstedt examining a situation map. 

 

Generalfeldmarschall von Rundstedt and high-ranking Wehrmacht and SS officers inspecting shock troops of the 6th SS Panzer Army. The camouflage of this Sd.Kfz. 251 half-track consists of dark gray with sand and brown/green lines and mottle sprayed on top.