Payne V. Rucker
Cannon Company, 143rd Infantry Regiment

This story begins early in the morning of the first day of the Invasion of Southern France by the 36th Infantry Division.

That day was August 14, 1943, when Cannon Company, 143rd Infantry Regiment faced the enemy at the Riviera, European society’s playground. No scantily clad ladies were there to greet us, but only the might of Hitler’s war machine, which had cleared the beaches to face the onslaught of freedom-loving, experienced soldiers of the American Army coming ashore.

The LST that carried my tank toward the beach where it was to drop its ramp to allow it to move immediately to the battle area, was fired upon 200 yards from shore by a German cannon. The projectile hit the water close to the LST, and the explosion sent shrapnel all over the ship. I was frustrated, standing at topside with nowhere to go; I couldn’t challenge the cannon, and a guy can’t dig a foxhole on a steel deck.

Since the LST was not equipped to return fire, the captain wisely backed his ship out of range. He tried again to land us ashore, but got the same results. Then, after a third try he managed to dock his ship which allowed us to debark. As my tank moved over the beach a few yards, I heard an explosion, looked back, and saw that the German cannon had scored a hit on the LST on the upper tight side, just where our tank had been. Damage was slight.

The German resistance was light in this area, so we moved inward at a fast pace, a lot different from the landing at Salerno.

Along the road French civilians offered champagne and wine. I was told that after an area was cleared of the enemy, French people rounded up women collaborators and shaved their heads for being traitors to France. We saw some of them later.

Annoying Sniper Interrupts Lunch

At about noon, the front line was slowed down and we went into defensive positions. I was about to eat my C-Ration when a sniper took a shot at me and missed. I remember yelling and shaking my fist at him. Even though he could not hear me, I felt better. I went to the other side of the tank and finished lunch. The sniper stayed in the area too long. He had not noticed two riflemen approaching his area; we weren’t bothered anymore.

We resumed our forward movement, with Sgt. Ashlock’s tank in front of mine, and a jeep with a major behind. We took turns as to which tank would be in the lead in a probing action. The first would be the one to attract fire from the enemy.

Sgt. Ashlock’s tank ran into a German roadblock manned by a small anti-tank weapon. The German commander, caught by surprise, fired and hit the road in front of Ashlock’s tank, and ricocheted over my own tank.

We came near some old French barracks that must have had a German artillery spotter there. An artillery piece, probably an 88, started firing at us from the left. The gun was accurate, but could not hit us since we were behind a high embankment. The 88 shells could not hit us, but the shells would burst on the embankment or go over us and explode into the trees. I could not see the gun firing at us because of the embankment. I ordered my driver to move my tank back a few yards to the shelter of a small hill. All tanks in the company finally lined up behind the hill and we felt we could now locate the gun without exposing our tanks to disabling fire.

Sgt McCally Dies of Wounds

Sgt. McCally’s tank, also a member of this task force, was in line behind the jeep following me. He, with his gunner, climbed the hill sheltering us. As they reached the crest of the hill, the tank was hit, killing the gunner and severely wounding McCally. He died on a hospital ship, we learned later.

Some Germans had infiltrated the French barracks, so we began to receive some small arms fire. I manned the 50-caliber machinegun on the Germans in the barracks. The enemy firing ceased, but I "caught hell." Captain Stem, our Company Commander, came up and asked me, "What in the hell are you doing firing that machine gun?" After I explained, he told me to get ready for one of the worst barrages that we have ever experienced. He was correct; every German in that area gave us a terrific barrage that lasted 30 or more minutes. My firing had drawn enemy firing.

We had managed with our 75’s to silence the first gun that had bothered us but they had many more out there. All I knew about this mission until that time was that we were pursuing a retreating enemy. It was a rout, moving literally miles per day.

I learned that we were part of a Task Force that was rushing to the far end of the Rhone Valley to Montelimar. The Germans were using it to "slip" a full Army through it in an all-out retreat. We had run into their "holding action" which, when faced with defeat, would withdraw to new defensive positions.

After dark, all firing ceased. As the enemy moved out, so we began again to move forward, continuing the chase.

Along the way we noticed parachutes hanging in trees where one of our American paratroop units had landed. We drove all night and stopped at a German road block that been knocked out. A dead bald-headed German soldier, apparently too old for such combat, was lying in the road.

Hungry, I decided to eat my C-Ration breakfast, and as I sat on the ground to eat, I just couldn’t muster an appetite with that old German lying so close. I dragged him by his legs into a ditch, to be out of sight, and then finished my meal.

Shortly thereafter, I was told to follow a jeep, with an officer and rifleman, of a motorized patrol in a small town. We had to check it out for the enemy. Entering the town and not finding Germans, we were told by local citizens that the Free French Army killed the Germans, and then offered to show us where the bodies were buried.

One of the women offered a jar that looked like plums floating in juice. I thought a glass of sweet plums and juice would taste great, so I thanked her and took a small glass. I downed it with one swig, throat burning. As I was coughing and trying to get my breath, an officer drove up in his Jeep and said, "Sergeant, I see you have had your Schnapps."

The town now secured from the enemy, we returned to our original position. When I returned, I noticed the dead bald-headed German I had pulled into the ditch was again lying back in the road. I asked loudly, "Who placed this body back on the road?" A GI who remained behind said he put the body back and also got the German soldier’s watch. I realized then that I had been careless about searching the bodies more carefully, but I ordered the body be again placed in the ditch so that it would not be run over by some other vehicle.

Moving forward again, more vehicles and truckloads of soldiers joined the column. That afternoon, the column was stopped and a report was relayed back that a T. D. (Tank Destroyer) had been knocked out and the driver killed. Captain Stem pulled my platoon out of the column and ordered us to destroy the 88 that knocked out the T. D. Each time it fired, the 88’s muzzle blast could be seen.

Advance, Fire and Withdraw

Since our tanks were light and fast, our strategy was to observe the 88’s blast, then move fast and close, fire three rounds of 75 H.E. (high explosive), then get out of there quickly. My tank was first, followed by the others. The 88 was silenced. No one knew which tank had done the most damage. I did know that my gunner, Cpl. Gunzelman, was the best in the company and I feel he deserves most of the credit.

The next morning, we were at the edge of the Montelimar Valley. We were spotted by the enemy and they began cannon firing at our position.

As we reached the valley, I was told that there were not enough vehicles to rush riflemen to their designated positions in the valley. I carried three riflemen on my tank. My tank was not following Lt. Brinkley’s tank, our platoon leader.

Traveling up a cart trail, we neared the crest of the valley as the Task Force was attempting to seal off the German retreat. Our column stopped. My tank stopped on the trail that was in full view of the enemy. From the floor of the valley came a direct hit from German artillery. The shell hit a rise to the right of my tank spraying us with shrapnel. One of the riflemen was wounded and fell off the tank. He was able to move, so Cpl. Gunzelman grabbed his arms and attempted to get the soldier inside. Then another artillery blast hit in about the same spot as before, this time fatally hitting the same rifleman. His new wound was bleeding on Gunzelman and inside the tank. I told Gunzleman to release the dead GI and he was gently lowered to the ground. One of the other rifleman held up a bloody hand to show us that his fingers had been blown off one hand. The third rifleman was uninjured, so I told him to get inside the crowded tank. I also lowered myself into it.

Bogey Wheel Damaged

Because the tank had an open turret, I would sit on a pillow I had borrowed from a house, and I could direct the driver and give fire orders just as well as before. That pillow had been pierced with shrapnel which just missed my rear end. More shells came in and one of them damaged a bogey wheel on the left side. I didn’t know it was damaged until after we had completed our mission. We were just too busy firing or dodging artillery shells. The German tank couldn’t be seen from our position, so we couldn’t return fire, but he could see us. We had to move out of his line of fire. The bogey wheel, the wheel that turns the treads which move the tank, was about to collapse. I ordered my driver, Grunkemeyer, to move forward even if he had to push Lt. Brinkley’s jeep out of the way. I shouted at Brinkley to move, and before our tank reached him, he moved.

I used to blame just about everyone for stopping our column on that trail, but now I feel it was the lead vehicle which had stopped for some reason, and military traffic was stalled. None of the stopped vehicles could go around the others because the trail was too narrow, and if a vehicle tried, it would likely topple into the valley.

We moved on up the valley and found an aid station. I asked the uninjured soldier to help his buddy get some medical help for his fingerless hand, and then get him back to his company.

We were assembled at a jumping off point for our next mission and received our fire assignment. We remained in place until dark that evening when we were told that McDugal’s M7’s was having a tough time of it in the middle of hundreds of Germans who were retreating through the valley. The enemy had made a stab at knocking out or capturing the M7’s. (The M7’s were Patton tanks with turrets removed and armed with a 75mm rifle and a 50 cal. machinegun. Ours had other weapons; one with a 60mm mortar, another a bazooka, racks of 75mm ammo, hand grenades, and TNT.)

Burp Gun Riddles Cannoneer

McDugal’s had enough firepower and brave soldiers to ward off the German attempts. We moved out in a pitch dark night to help McDugal’s MTs. Our tank almost got hit by a vehicle that I thought was German, which crossed very fast right in front of us. Our troops were scattered in every direction, so there was no way for us to fire into the darkness. When we met up with McDugal’s force, we heard stories of combat action during the night. Dick Ryle, an M7 driver, decided to grab a rifle and fight off the Germans. A German wounded Ryle by shooting him with a "burp gun." Ryle had so many holes in him he didn’t think it possible he could survive. (But he did; after a long stay in a hospital he made it OK.)

Bud Cross, an MT platoon leader, captured a German officer and his crew. One of his crew members, a Polish soldier with a family still in Poland, saw an opportunity to take revenge on the German officer. Grabbing a rifle by its barrel, he swung the butt to knock the head off the German. The officer ducked and Sgt. Cross got the hit which put him "in another world." The Pole was truly sorry he hit Cross; the German officer helped Cross to his feet.

At daybreak, my platoon of M8’s was stationed as close as possible to the valley rim, with our 75 howitzers pointing downward. The valley road was teeming with activity as the Germans raced up the valley in retreat. German soldiers, tanks, trucks and every kind of weapon were trying to make their escape. Lt. Brinkley, stationed with a good view of the turmoil below, relayed fire orders by radio to the section leaders who, in turn, relayed orders to the unawares. The first orders were directed at troop-carrying trucks. We fired our guns continuously without stopping; and the recoil system got so hot that the system was slowing down. Norris, my loader, was pushing shells into the breach with his fist, and due to the fast fire, his skin begin to peel off his hand. I exchanged places with Norris for a while, and I also lost some skin. We fired until we were out of ammunition and had to order more.

German Counterattack Repulsed

Lt. Brinkley excitedly ordered all guns lowered to barely clear the valley rim. He said Germans who were not wounded or killed were attempting to climb the valley wall, and it appeared they were trying to attack us and stop this debacle. The directed fire was so accurate that the Germans gave up the attack. By this time, the valley floor was literally covered with hundreds of destroyed German trucks, tanks, and dead soldiers. Many of the enemy did make their escape, but hundreds of them were pounded so thoroughly that they lost their will to resist, threw down their arms, and surrendered.

By now our guns ran out of targets, and there was an eerie silence in the valley. Infantrymen were finding some German soldiers who had not yet surrendered. My platoon was ordered to move to a prisoner collection area. The prisoners’ faces reflected the devastating ordeal they had endured in the fighting, yet they were relieved that their war was over. One even grinned when I removed his watch. Bud Cross asked me to keep dime P-38 pistols in my tank for safekeeping. My crew, which could not leave the tank to go foraging for souvenirs, were disappointed. Our Company Commander, Wiley Stem, had issued an order that stated: IF ANY MAN LEAVES HIS TANK DURING ENEMY ACTION, HE WILL BE TRANSFERRED TO A RIFLE COMPANY. I told my grumbling crew that I would mind the tank while they scooted around and made a few collections, but that they better make it quick and get back to the tank in hurry. I thought they deserved the privilege.

Machinegun Jam From Firing Heat

With my crew gone temporarily, I scanned the south end of the valley with my field glasses and saw a number of Germans descending toward the valley floor. I fired our 50 cal. machinegun into those troops until the gun barrel became so hot that it jammed. My crew, hearing the machine gun, returned. I thought about firing some 75mm shells in that area, but didn’t do so since the Germans had scattered and had taken cover. Also, so many of our own soldiers were in the valley that I didn’t want to take a chance of hitting them.

I think some of these Germans were the ones which surrendered to Bob Passons. While still in place at the prisoner collection area, I had heard that Sgt. Passons had captured a large number of the enemy. Passons said that he had injured himself and needed help in getting his prisoners to the collection area. I turned my tank over to Cpl. Gunzelman and, with one of my crew, left to find Passons. I found him with a large number of prisoners, but he was limping badly.

Passons said one group of Germans had surrendered to him without a struggle. While he was lining up his captives, another group, being led by an officer, was moving toward him. Bob approached them and asked them to surrender. He did not anticipate any trouble since they could see the large number of fellow German soldiers already in American custody. Bob thought the officer would surrender his group, when one of the men took a shot at Bob. He was missed, but he jumped for safety over a hedge into ditch he knew was there. The ditch was deeper than he had thought and Bob broke his ankle as he hit bottom. While he was in the ditch, the prisoner group he had just been talking with surrendered. I and my crew member herded all the prisoners to the collection area. Bob was taken to an aid station in an ambulance. On our way back with the prisoners, we captured a single German soldier hiding in a ditch.

This concludes my part in the Battle of Montelimar, France.

(After our Company assembled for the briefing for our next mission, Captain Stem ordered me and my driver to take my tank back to Ordnance and have that bogey wheel replaced or repaired before it collapsed. In fact, the wheel collapsed on our way to Ordnance .... BUT THAT’S ANOTHER STORY.)