by Lester Bornstein, 168 ENGR CMBT BN, Co B
The Bulge began on December 16, 1944 where my unit was assigned to support the Second Infantry Division in the Ardennes, St. Vith, which is close to the German border.
My unit had landed in Normandy in June 1944, and fought with Patton in the areas to recapture the ports of Cherbourg and Brest. We accompanied Patton’s historic battles leading to the liberation of Paris. Our final destination was to the Ardennes where we supported the veteran Second Infantry Division. After a very short period of time, they were replaced by the newly arrived 106th Infantry Division.
We were bivouacked in the woods on the outskirts of St. Vith – our mission was to maintain the few secondary roads leading to the front lines now occupied by the 106th division. Although there was sporadic artillery fire, the area was relatively quiet.
On December 16th 1944, we were suddenly aroused from our sleeping arrangements in our make-shift huts. Non-commissioned officers were shouting, “Grab your guns! Leave all personal items behind! The Germans have launched an offensive!”
The members of our three companies A, B, and C trudged to the area where the enemy artillery was targeting. This was a secondary road connecting the main thoroughfare to St. Vith. It was apparent that the enemy had concentrated its assault on the areas that the 106th had occupied from the Second Infantry Division.
Our unit dug foxholes and set up obstacles to prevent the advance of the enemy. My personal involvement was to join a highly respected sergeant in my company, James Hill. He came from Massachusetts as I did.
We had a bazooka and ammunition to hopefully destroy any tanks coming up the road towards St. Vith (which the Germans expected to capture within twenty-four hours). We could hear the sources of the approaching enemy—artillery and small arms fire. It was apparent that the American defensive line had been penetrated. Within a short time, the enemy tanks were coming towards us and they were accompanied by well armed foot soldiers.
Sergeant James gave me the order to load the bazooka. I removed the first of the four projectiles that I had been carrying. As I inserted the projectile into the bazooka, my hands were shaking so hard that I broke one of the leads that would charge the bazooka shell.
To say Sergeant Hill was upset would be an understatement. He tensely ordered me to put in another round. Once again, with my shaky hands, I broke the second one. By this time, the approaching column had come within twenty-thirty yards of opposition. My heroic buddy inched forward on the edge of the parapet of our deeply dug foxhole and was so careful to await the perfect spot to hit the underbelly of the approaching lead tank. As I dug my head into his shoulder, I whispered a prayer to Jimmy, “Please don’t miss!” As I held my breath, the projectile hit its mark.
To a crunching halt, the tank suddenly erupted in flames—and its occupants were screaming with the fire engulfing them. The foot soldiers accompanying the tank rushed forward with loaded rifles, seeking out what enemy forces could stop this formidable assault group. The sounds of war had stopped and all we could hear was this group of soldiers talking to one another and as they sought out the defending forces on the outskirts of St. Vith, their final destination. My brief knowledge of Yiddish allowed me to understand what the Germans were saying. They were perplexed by any formidable defense forces leading to the town.
Fortunately, our freshly dug foxhole was camouflaged by boughs of tree limbs that had been shredded by artillery fire concealing us from the road. This factor saved our lives. Jim Hill ordered me to get a grenade ready which I did, while I simultaneously grasped the handle to prevent the premature activation.
Suddenly, a German command could be heard shouting,“Kum Tzirick!,” ordering the accompanying ground troops to return to the main force a few hundred yards back.
Many years later, in 2004, I returned to St. Vith with my wife for a ceremony to celebrate the allied victory. Because I wanted to show her the spot where I hit the tank, we drove together up to the outskirts of St. Vith in our car. Suddenly, around a certain bend of the road, I slammed on the breaks and I said to my wife, “This is it, this is where I hit tank.”
Getting out of the car, I saw an old farm house and a woman outside feeding chickens. I wanted to try and speak to her, so I went up to her by myself. The woman told me that her son spoke English, so she introduced me to him. When I told the son about my experience at this road, he told me that he remembered the moment when I shot the tank. At that time, he was a young man and hiding in the basement of his house. When heard the German artillery coming up the road, he was watched the action from the cellar window. He spotted two young American soldiers from a foxhole shoot a German tank with a bazooka. When the Germans turned around, the young man came out and emptied the tank, to see if there was anything valuable. I asked the man to show me where he saw the two young Americans, and he walked me over to my very foxhole. Because I now had a witness to mine and Jimmy’s wartime action, later Jimmy and I were both honored by the US military with medals for bravery.
Soon after receiving the awards, my comrade Jimmy Hill received a letter from a German tank driver, Hans Geng, who had been in that column approaching St. Vith. Geng had relatives living in St. Vith and was visiting them. He was told by one of the residents of St. Vith that there was a monument to a unit that was involved in the defense of the city. Geng found a newspaper article detailing mine and Jimmy’s story. Geng found Hill’s address in Florida and wrote to him, telling him that the bazooka team had made a lucky shot by destroying the lead tank of the assault column.
When my daughter Karen learned of this saga, she felt it was newsworthy and related this story to a friend at NBC. He shared it with Chuck Scarborough, a leading broadcaster at NBC. Chuck saw this as an opportunity to bring these two former enemies together. So he put together a four-night series called “Enemies No More,” and Hans, Jimmy, and I met in St. Vith in 2004 to record the documentary of our reuniting.