At 0755 hours, General O’Daniel [commanding general, 3rd Infantry Division] radioed Colonel McGarr [commander, 30th Infantry Regiment], impressing on him the need for speed and the necessity of immediately pushing several miles south. Against McGarr’s better judgment, he ordered two of his three battalions to get moving [It turned out to be a far worse decision than he could have ever imagined].[1]

They quickly crossed the bridge and fanned out, heading south and east, encountering light resistance as they plunged across the flat-as-glass  snow and ice-covered fields.

Unbeknownst to the 30th, they were now moving into a massive ambush—a murderous buzzsaw made up of a division of enemy soldiers, a brigade of tanks, and scores of other armored vehicles, all hidden and waiting for the right time to be unleashed.

Without their own tanks, artillery, and air support, the men of the 30th could hardly have been in a worse tactical position.

Phil and his A&P Platoon were attached to Lieutenant Darwyn E. Walker’s I Company and Lieutenant Ross Calvert’s K Company.

Most of the men entered the village of Holtzwihr from the north and began clearing houses on each side of the streets, while others remained in support.

At 1630 hours, Walker, Calvert, and Phil felt a surge of confidence and began setting up their CP on the second floor of a building that overlooked the main square while their men continued to clear the village.

Calvert sent a patrol to the town’s main street, which would be a perfect approach for attacking armor. He had them position a bazooka team inside a walled-in yard several houses down from the new CP.

The hope was that the bazooka team would be able to get in a good shot at any armor coming down the street, turning a lead tank or half-track into flames so that nothing else could come down the road.

The men were arranging a defense plan when they spotted German Tiger tanks coming in their direction.

From their vantage point, Phil and Ross observed the lead tank pulling up beside to their bazooka team, which was perched behind a wall. The bazooka man fired two rounds at close range, but the shots bounced off the tank—like BBs off a steel barrel.

The tanks began to retreat, but an enemy machine gun in a church bell tower opened fire, keeping Calvert’s platoon and a section of heavy machine guns temporarily immobilized.

Phil and Ross watched as one of their heavy machine gunners set up in a slight curve of the street, which would allow him to cover the length of the road. He opened on the tank, and the tank’s machine guns fired back. The GI was hit and started to crawl away.

Then he changed his mind and crept back to his machine gun and resumed firing. This time the tank swung its main cannon and killed him in place.

A second American machine gun nest came under fire from a German sniper in the church tower, killing the gunner and pinning down his platoon.

“Shit!” Calvert exclaimed. “Let’s go, Phil.”

They ran downstairs, found a soldier with a grenade launcher, and moved to a point in the street where the rifleman could get a good shot. The grenade hit the tank but did no damage. In response, the tank swung its main cannon and fired, just missing Phil and Ross.

The tanks retreated and backed around the corner, putting them out of view. Phil, Calvert, and Walker knew this was only a taste of things to come.

Phil’s primary concern was that there was no radio communication with Colonel McGarr back at the bridgehead. They had no idea when American tanks and other armor would arrive, or if they could call in artillery.

Phil and Ross spent some time damning the designers of the SCR-300 radio, which had a reliable range of only three miles in the best of conditions. Since the men were at least three or four miles south of the Maison Rouge Bridge, Phil realized they were likely not in range due to the radio’s “short sticks.”[2] He came up with an idea.

“Ross, I’ll take one of our SCR-300s a mile or so north of town. I’ll be your relay communication point to coordinate artillery and anything else you need.”

Calvert and Walker agreed to Phil’s plan, so Phil took off. As he and his men were leaving, they could hear the sounds of a massive German counterattack beginning on the south side of Holtzwihr.

About halfway between the village and the Maison Rouge Bridge, Phil and his platoon set up a heavy machine gun nest and their radio unit. They were quickly able to establish communication with the bridgehead, but they could not raise Walker, Calvert, or any of their men.

“Larimore,” a staticky voice said, “this is Rattler.”

Phil recognized the voice of Colonel McGarr, who was using his code name.

“I’ve got some real bad news, Lieutenant,” the colonel said. “The engineers didn’t have enough bridging material for the entire timber bridge, so the middle of the structure, which they thought was the strongest, was not reinforced. They thought for sure the bridge was safe, so they tested it with a Sherman. The damn tank broke through the bridge, and now it’s sitting in the middle of the river. You’ll be getting no armor or tank support for several hours, at least. I’m setting up artillery on the west bank of the Ill, but it’s not available to you right now. As soon as it’s ready, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, I’ll get artillery FOs on the line to coordinate with you.”

“Got it, sir,” Phil responded.

“Oh, there’s one more thing, Lieutenant.” McGarr paused, as if he were measuring his words. “To make matters worse, the forces on each of your flanks have been held up by fierce enemy stands. You’re on your own.”

Phil physically shuddered and felt ill. “I’ll let Walker and Calvert know when I can, sir,” he coolly said. He knew that to advance further with no air or artillery support would be difficult. Actually, with no armor or tanks at their disposal, and no protection on either of their flanks, any forward movement would be suicide.

But McGarr’s direct orders to the battalions were clear: Move forward as rapidly as possible, and at all costs. He also knew that the men of the 30th had never backed down from a fight and never retreated—not once.

Lieutenant Phil Larimore and his men had no intention of being the first to do so.[4]

The cost would be unimaginable.

~~~~~

[1] Larimore, At First Light, 189.

[2] The SCR-300 was equipped with one of two antennas: a thirty-three-inch “short stick” and a ten-foot
“long stick.” The shorter one had a more limited range.

[3] Larimore, Ibid, 189-191.

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