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"The Lost Battalion"
Rescue in the Vosges Mountains
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In Italy the Purple Heart Battalion had become renown for suffering a record casualty rate. In Italy, however, the Nisei had believed there were clear-cut objectives to be purchased with their blood and their sacrifice. At Monte Cassino they had watched non-Japanese units, such as the 36th Infantry's 141st and 143d Regiments nearly decimated right next to them. In France where the rain and fog in the Belmont forest obscured the terrain, in the Vosges Mountains many of the brave Nisei felt their orders and objectives were as vaguely defined. From October 15th to 24th each Company had been thrown, almost in a scattered "shot-gun" pattern, at numerous hills and positions, with what they often felt was little clear-cut reason. Frequently, as had been the case with Hill D, once they had purchased a position with their blood, they were moved on to the next assault only to watch hard-earned acreage fall back into enemy hands due to poor planning at the division level.
The outspoken Captain Kim had always stood up for the men, never defying orders, but often questioning them or offering more reasonable alternatives. When rousted in the early morning hours of October 21st and ordered to move his weary soldiers into the ridge above Biffontaine, Kim had dutifully followed orders. He didn't understand the reasoning behind them, indeed walked back to his jeep muttering "This is crazy. This is crazy." But, like all the men of the only World War II unit to be able to claim zero battlefield desertions during the war, he followed those orders. As the weary regiment bedded down at Belmont on October 24th for what they hoped would be at least the two-day rest period they'd been promised, Kim was gone, recovering from his wounds at Biffontaine.
There must come, at some point in time, a limit to the endurance of the human spirit, mind, and body. The Bruyeres-Biffontaine campaign had certainly pushed the young Nisei to that point. For days they had tasted fear as they met the enemy, watched their comrades mutilated beyond recognition by enemy machinegun and artillery fire, and struggled to survive with few supplies and little support. Those unwounded soldiers of the 442d that bedded down at Belmont carried scars deep inside their souls. To add to their misery, the rain had been almost constant throughout the previous 8 days of combat. Every man was soaked to the skin, the constant moisture turning flesh white and wrinkled. The constant movement through the cold mud of the mountains had kept feet from drying for more than a week. A new threat became as real as the armed enemy...trenchfoot...far worse than athlete's foot for it could not only immobilize a foot soldier, it could cost him the loss of a leg.
The campaign had also been costly for the enemy, 645 Germans captured and at least an equal number killed or wounded. It had been a bitter defeat for them, right at their own door step. At the American Army's Corps level it was determined that enemy resistance west of the Meurthe River had been effectively crushed. Military planners at headquarters determined that the time was ripe to send the 3d Division, which had been in rest for ten days, in a push to reach the Meurthe River from St. Die. Further south, the 36th Infantry was ordered to move east of Biffontaine to protect the 3d Division's right flank. Even as the 442nd was pulling back to Belmont to heal, a unit consisting of Company A, Company B, and a portion of Company C (as well as one platoon from Company D) of the 1st Battalion, 141st Regiment of the 36th Infantry Division was moving eastward from Belmont to fulfill this task. Joining the 274 T-Patchers was First Lieutenant Erwin Blonder, an artillery observer.
The 1st Battalion had moved out with dawn on October 24th, moving down a thickly wooded valley between Gerardmer and St. Die to rout the enemy from their hidden positions. By mid-afternoon the soldiers had traveled nearly 6 miles into enemy territory, flanked by 3d Battalion on a ridge to the north. Rising from the valley, the 1st Battalion attacked the heavily wooded hillsides, beating back the Germans. Suddenly the enemy counter-attacked, splitting the two Battalions and cutting the 1st Battalion off from its flank support.
As night fell, 1st Battalion had taken a position on the barren crest of the densely wooded hilltop. As they prepared for the long night, the battalion's officers held a war council. Together with the NCOs, they asked each soldier to empty his pack, counting rations, supplies, and ammunition, then distributing them equally among the men. So far forward was the unit that transmissions to the rear were scratchy and barely audible on Lieutenant Blonder's radio. The officers could only hope that headquarters understood the coded message sent back that first night: "No rations, no water, no communications with headquarters...four litter cases." As desperate as the situation sounded, the officers of the 1st Battalion did not realize yet just HOW critical their situation was.
First Sergeant Bill Hull sent a 36-man patrol to work their way back to friendly lines and obtain needed supplies for the men on the hilltop. Almost immediately after leaving the perimeter, the patrol ran into the Germans. The first hint of just how badly surrounded the 1st Battalion was came when only five of the thirty-six escaped to return to the hilltop. In the darkness of that first night, the soldiers took turns standing guard duty. But no one really slept. They knew the enemy was near, that they were surrounded. They suspected that they were also heavily outnumbered.
They were indeed. Stinging from their defeat in the Belmont forest, the Germans had rushed a massive number of fresh, crack troops into the region. During that first night it was later estimated that some 700 enemy soldiers moved in to surround the 1st Battalion. At 10 o'clock the following morning the enemy revealed their presence. Slowly a lone German tank moved through the forest to confront the American soldiers huddled in their small, muddy perimeter. As the enemy began the frontal attack, the T-patchers met it with a hail of machinegun fire. When the initial fusillade died down, the tank withdrew. It had simply been a probe, an effort by the enemy to determine the strength of the surrounded Americans. The charade would continue daily, almost like clock-work...a frontal assault by a lone German tank. Each time the Americans met it with a hail of bullets, all the while knowing their supply of ammunition was getting lower. Most felt that the only reason the Germans had not yet attacked in force was because they weren't sure how many Americans were on the hill. Any sign of weakness, any lessening of the full resistance necessary to convince the Germans that they were up against a powerful Allied unit, would result in the battalion's immediate annihilation.
Throughout the day the soldiers continued to reinforce their position, digging foxholes into the ground and using knives to cut down trees for cover. Every effort was made to maintain silence, for the Germans seemed to be everywhere. Some of the soldiers resorted to wrapping blankets around small trees as they cut through the trunks, in order to quiet them as they fell.
Back at headquarters, Major General Dahlquist, Commander of the 36th Infantry Division, was concerned. The situation faced by the 275 men he had sent from Belmont posed potential for a major military disaster. Throughout the previous night, the 3d Battalion of the 141st had tried to fight their way in past the forces that had stopped 2nd Battalion from reaching the trapped unit. It was all to no avail. Quickly the Americans were learning how strong the reinforced German defenses had become.
"Hang on, a heavy force is coming to relieve you," headquarters radioed back to Lieutenant Blonder. With his staff, General Dahlquist had committed all the resources of the 2d and 3d Battalions to the situation, while trying hard to determine what kind of manpower would be required to push through to the lonely hill where the majority of his 1st Battalion were huddled against the powerful German force. On the hillside, the enemy was moving in more tanks, heavy guns, and dropping artillery fire on the their cornered prey. In the forests they were blocking the advance of the American relief efforts. The 1st Battalion wasn't really "lost", the Germans knew where they were, and so did General Dahlquist. But knowing where the trapped unit was, and effecting their rescue, were two different problems. Huddled in the mud protecting the radio that provided the Lost Battalions' only link to the rear, Lieutenant Blonder prayed for a miracle.
Back in Belmont, weary Nisei who had already been pushed beyond the limit of human endurance were rising up to do the impossible. Sometimes when you go for broke, you win big. At other times the roll of the dice can be cruel, and rob you of everything. This time the roll of the dice would be insanely cruel, for men who
"Refused to Quit, Refused to Lose!"
Everywhere,
casualties were falling...to enemy fire...to artillery fire...to mines and booby traps.
Technician Fifth Grade James Okubo was a medic. All the medics of the 442d
had gained the respect of the soldiers time and again, going into the open to recover
wounded, hoping that the enemy would respect their non-combatant status. Sometimes
it worked...sometimes it didn't. As the Nisei advanced on the enemy they were faced
first with minefields and roadblocks, behind which the enemy could hide and rain leaden
death on the advancing Americans. One hundred fifty yards ahead of Okubo lay wounded
soldiers, within 40 yards of the enemy lines. Despite the heavy fire he crawled
forward time and again. Two grenades landed near him but he ignored the danger they
represented. In all he rescued and treated 17 men.
In
his own sector, Private Barney Hajiro rose to his feet to lead his own assault. Next
to him was a friend he had known since basic training, Takeyasu "Thomas"
Onaga". As they moved forward young Hajiro watched in horror as the close
friend who moments earlier had loaded his browning automatic rifle, fell dead to a hail of
enemy bullets. The young private who had already twice demonstrated the highest
degree of valor could contain the torment of his soul no longer. With abandon he
assaulted "suicide hill", yards ahead of the other men of his platoon, raining
the rounds his dead comrade had loaded in the BAR on the enemy. Camouflage netting
could not hide the enemy gunners from the fury of his assault, nor could the continuous
stream of enemy machinegun fire turn back his determination. Private Barney Hajiro
quickly knocked out two enemy gun emplacements and shot two snipers, allowing the rest of
his unit to advance. Then enemy rounds slammed into Private Hajiro's left arm,
rendering it useless. Fifty-six years later that arm still hung at his side,
helplessly paralyzed, as the President presented Barney Hajiro the Medal of Honor for his
actions on October 19th, 20th, and 29th. Every Memorial Day for those 56 years Mr.
Hijiro has visited Thomas Onaga's grave site at the Punchbowl in Hawaii. Barney
Hajiro believes, despite the permanent loss of the use of his left arm, that he was the
fortunate soldier that fateful day.
Private
Sakato and his buddy Saburo Tanamachi had been together since basic training. As the
enemy launched their renewed assault, George turned to Saburo and told him to watch out
for a machine gun. It was too late. The enemy rounds slammed into his friend,
ripping flesh and spilling blood. As Saburo Tanamachi died in Sakato's arms, tears
welled up within the young private's eyes. A rage began to boil deep within as he
gently lowered his friend's lifeless body to the ground. Tears continuing to blur
his vision he leaped to his feet, heedless of the enemy fire that tore into the brush
around him, to launch his one-man assault on the Germans. Using an enemy rifle and
P-38 pistol he charged headlong into the counter-attack, killing 12 enemy, wounding two
more and capturing four. Inspired by Private Sakato's brazen assault, his platoon
followed, retaking the hill and capturing 34 prisoners. In all, Companies E and F
killed 100 enemy and captured 41 in the taking of Hill 617.
