Armageddon - Max Hastings [59]
When an infantry battalion—800–1,000 strong, but usually under-strength—attacked an enemy position, two of its three rifle companies walked or ran forward in extended line on a frontage of perhaps 400 yards, followed by battalion headquarters, with the third rifle company bringing up the rear, in reserve. The attackers aspired to silence the enemy’s defences by bombardment before the infantry left their start lines, but few units in few battles were lucky enough to be granted a walkover. An infantry commander’s troubles started when the defenders opened fire with machine-guns and mortars, and enemy forward observers called down shellfire. A common cliché was seized upon by fighting soldiers of every nationality to describe their predicament: “all hell broke loose.” The instinct of any normal human being when confronted by mortal peril is to take cover. Again and again in north-west Europe, attacking infantry “went to ground,” sometimes within a few minutes of leaving their start line. The greatest challenge for an officer was to keep his men going forward. Major-General Gerald Templer expressed the issue well, lecturing to a British junior leaders’ course. Imagine yourself leading a platoon up a quiet country lane, he said: “Suddenly, all hell is let loose. You look up, and your platoon sergeant’s guts are hanging on a tree beside you. The platoon is turning to run—it is then, gentlemen, that you must grip those men.” One of Templer’s students recalled: “He paused in absolute silence and, holding out his arm, tightened his fist slowly to give graphic illustration to his words. It was superb theatre, and we sat enthralled.”
In the U.S. Army, some gap between the capability of line infantry and that of elite formations such as the Rangers and paratroopers was inevitable, since the latter attracted the most enthusiastic soldiers. Yet, even allowing for this, there was a notable contrast between the energy of the U.S. airborne divisions, along with a few other outstanding formations, and the lassitude of less proficient units. The 82nd and 101st Airborne showed that the American fighting man at his best—no less an amateur than the rest of the armies—possessed no superior. Yet few other U.S. infantry units matched their determination, leadership and tactical skill. For those of us who consider General James Gavin among the finest fighting soldiers America produced in the twentieth century, it is sobering to study his lacerating diary criticisms of American infantry performance.
Captain William DuPuy, who ended the war commanding the 1/357th Infantry, observed sardonically that he would have been happy to lead a much smaller battalion, if it could have been made up of men who would fight. In every battle, a small proportion of soldiers did all the work. Likewise, Captain Willie Knowlton of the 7th Armored Division said: “A few guys carry your attack, and the rest of the people sort of participate and arrive on the objective shortly after everybody else.” William DuPuy said that he would willingly lead an attack with just forty of a company’s 200 men, if he could choose the forty: “The average man, like nine out of ten, does not have an instinct for the battlefield, doesn’t relish it, and will not act independently except under direct orders.” These wise words miss one brutal point: even if only forty men out of 200 fought effectively or even fired their weapons, the presence of others, the non-fighters, was necessary