"L" Company Tactics

As an artillery forward observer my job was to direct artillery fire in support of the infantry units my Battalion, the 39th Field Artillery, was responsible for supporting. In that job I moved and stayed with the infantry and sometimes felt more like an infantryman than an artilleryman except that my weapon was artillery fire instead of M1 rifles. However, on rare occassions, I did fire my carbine in combat.

The first time was in France after my division participated in the amphibious landing on the southern coast near San Tropez in August of 1945. Unlike the Normandy landing which took place in June of that year, we faced only light resistance. Once we broke out of our beachheads the German forces facing us began to withdraw to the north by establishing a series of strong-point blocking actions designed to slow our advance in order to buy time to withdraw their forces in an orderly manner.

To counter that tactic we raced into their territory to deny them the time they needed to set up their defensive strong points. That made for a very fluid front and in some sectors our infantry, with its supporting tanks, moved so fast that it got out of range of its supporting artillery. It was in just such a sector that I found myself shooting at the enemy with my carbine instead of with artillery fire.

I was moving with "L" Company of the 15th Infantry, which was commanded by a very aggressive red-headed captain named Coles, who happened to be from my home town of Alhambra, California. Red Coles favorite tactic was said to be to deliberately get his company surrounded so it would have to fight its way out. Whether or not that was really his tactic, it was what happened in one instance when I was with "L" Company.

We were way ahead of the main effort, so far ahead I could not contact my Battalion by my FM tactical radio. It was a hot day and we had advanced along an improved road in beautiful rolling farm country. We had met only light sporadic resistance but the troops were tired and hungry, and Coles decided to stop for the night and dig in around a large two story building which might have been an inn or a small hotel, by the road nestled in among a stand of trees. I promptly set up my radio on the second floor anticipating that the artillery would soon catch up enough to allow radio contact.

By dusk a perimeter defense had been established and we all relaxed a little and ate portable rations we had with us. There was no sign of the enemy but sometime after dark we heard the sound of vehicle engines approaching from the direction in which we had come. No one knew how many enemy units we might have bypassed, if any, so the company was alerted and directed to hold its fire until the vehicles could be identified as German or American. They approached without lights so they were almost inside our perimeter before we could identify them as German. As I recall there were two, maybe three, vehicles; a staff followed by a truck.

I was at a second floor window with my crew and a number of infantrymen. We could look down at those vehicles which were perhaps fifty yards away and coming very cautiously. As they drew near I was excited and asked to anyone, "Do we shoot them?"

The answer came, "Shoot them."

So we opened up with a fusillade of small arms fire which ended the ambush. I don't recall if any were taken prisoner, but most were killed or wounded.

That action ended the tension. No one knew how many more enemy troops might be coming up the road - and if there were more had they been alerted by our gun fire? All was quiet for several hours and just as we began to relax, someone reported hearing the sound of tanks approaching from the same direction. If they turned out to be German we clearly would be in considerable danger. Without tanks of our own or effective anti-tank weapons our situation would be untenable.

Time passed very slowly as we heard those tanks coming closer and closer, ever closer. It was certainly a dry-mouth time for us all. But, happily, those tanks turned out to be American Shermans which had come up to reinforce "L" Company for the next day's advance.

Misnomer
Who named the animals is no mystery
It was father Adam, we know from history.
By and large and for the most part
I find little fault in his tedious art.
Most were labeled exactly
With names chosen most aptly.
Adam's appellation samples
Certainly match it's creature, for examples:

'Elephant'
Is certainly relevant,
As is 'Aardvark,'
'Hippopotamus' and 'Lark.'
A 'Cow' of course
Is more itself than a 'Horse'
Which takes its fame
From a flowing mane.

'Lion' is fi-on
For that great fe-lion,
And, oh, gorgeous 'Jaguar'
That's exactly what you are!
And what better name than 'Crocodile'
For that prehistoric repotile?
Then 'Deer,' 'Bison,' 'Elk,' and 'Moose' all clearly relate
To that great clan called ungulate.

What better than 'Goose' describes those fowls
Famed for their overactive bowels?
And isn't the term for they that squirm
Quite properly 'Worm?'
But there is one name that seems singularly uninspired.
Perhaps our father Adam was overly tired
When it came time
To name the prickly 'Porcupine.'

No, no it cannot be.
It sounds half pig and half tree.
The pig part is fine
So did he really mean to call it 'Porcu-spine?'
That seems a more appropriate name
Considering the animal's spiny fame.
Perhaps spelling changes
Over the time of ages.

With all that, I pray you'll find this box sublime
Despite the fact 'tis made from the ill-famed,
And ill-named
Lowly 'Porcupine!'


(Every Christmas Francis writes his lovely wife a poem to accompany her gifts. This is one of those memorable poems!)