91503 - page 2 of 72

January 5, 1945, was a gloomy winter day. About mid-afternoon we got a

telephone message from Div Arty. It was in code, an unusual precaution. We habitually

encoded messages sent by radio, because they were broadcast for anyone to hear, but

telephone was usually assumed to be secure from eavesdropping, even though it was

possible to tap in on a line (Bug it, in the language of espionage stories). We decoded the

message, which directed our battalion reconnaissance party to meet the new Div Arty S-

3, Major Salisbury, at 0600 (six a.m.) the following morning.

So far, so good. But then came the kicker. The place we were to meet him, when

we finally found it on a map which included the entire First and Third Army zones,

turned out to be away to hell-and-gone north of us. Something in the neighborhood of 75

miles. Why, it wasn't even in France or Germany, but in the tiny Grand Duchy of

There must have been a mistake in the encoding. I got on the phone to Universe 3

and asked for Major Salisbury. Instead I got Col Sutton, the new exec officer. "The Fox

isn't here. What did you want?" [Major Salisbury once got lost on desert maneuvers, and

won the nickname "The Desert Fox." Sutton never let him forget it.]

"Oh. Hi colonel, I wonder if you could check that message you just sent us? I

"That message is correct," he snapped, "and you'd better be getting ready to

comply!" I suspected from his tone that we were not the first to question it.

Now it finally dawned on me. We were going to the Bulge, the Forest of the

Ardennes, where Field Marshal Von Rundstedt's massive winter counter-offensive had

broken through and was threatening the whole Allied line.

So I told Col Hughes and alerted the appropriate members of the recon party.

Then somebody asked, "What about maps?"

What about them indeed! We would need maps, large-scale detailed maps of the

new area, and all we had was the small-scale general map on which we had found the

location. I felt as if I had been kicked in the belly when I remembered that we had once

owned all those maps we needed - and that they were all buried in the woods near

Well, it was too late to retrieve them now. Arlo Knowles, our new S-2, went to

the Div Arty CP to see if he could get more. As he had not been around when I got rid of

them, he could at least plead ignorance if they asked why we couldn't use what we had.

It was bitterly cold outside, and we all bundled up as warmly as we could in

preparation for the trip. The light was already waning: we would be traveling at night

probably all night.

Capt Knowles came back with no maps, but with the information that they would

be issued at the rendezvous point, and no one had mentioned that we should

already have them. He added that the Div Arty CP was in a turmoil getting ready for the

move: Gen Bixby and Maj Salisbury had left some time before.