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cover in the small ditches by the road. The hedges were not very close to the road there, and that was something of a good break because panzerfaust teams couldn’t get quite so close.
    The only way I could communicate with the tank platoon leader was through a field phone we’d rigged up on the back of his tank, and I used it now to talk over our awkward situation. We decided to radio the CO for instructions, since it didn’t seem sensible to try to go on into Le Mesnil Herman with only three tanks and twenty-four riflemen. The tank lieutenant had been in the fighting in North Africa and Sicily, and, since it was my first day in combat, I asked his opinion on what to do with my men. He suggested I spread them out a little more to make sure the Germans didn’t get too close with a panzerfaust.
    Our radio instructions seemed slow coming in, and we waited nervously in the bright light for minutes that seemed to drag into hours. At last we got word simply to turn around and rejoin the main body of the task force, now in a field about a quarter mile back.
    Great—but
how?
The tanks had to stick to the road, brightly lighted though it was, and that sure didn’t look very attractive to me, but I couldn’t see any other way out.
    The tank lieutenant suggested I keep my men spread out while they turned the tanks around in the road. This done, I asked what next.
    “Well,” he said, “it looks like the only way out is to make a fast break for it.”
    “Then should I get my men mounted back on the tanks as fast as I can?” I asked.
    “Hell, no,” he snapped. “They’ll shoot your men off like flies.”
    Without another word, all three tanks took off so fast the phone on the command tank was jerked from my hand and we were left standing in the road with our mouths open. I was furious, but I knew I couldn’t waste time on anger. Something had to be done, and fast. Some of my men were on the edge of panic. One was crying, and I noticed a few others were trembling. I didn’t particularly blame them; we were surrounded by Germans who could see us plainly and soon should move in on us. We couldn’t even call for help, because our radioman had left his radio on one of the tanks. We were completely on our own.
    As the tanks had charged away one of my men had run after it, trying to grab on from the rear. His feet bounced a couple of times in the road, and then he had to let go because of the extremely hot exhaust. So he was stuck with the rest of us.
    The Germans shot panzerfausts at each tank as it passed the one still on fire, but they missed every time. The tanks thus had been lucky enough to get through; now it was our turn to run the gauntlet.
    The instructors back at Fort Benning had never told me what to do in a situation like this, so I probably did everything wrong. I did remember one of their morsels of general advice, however: When in doubt, get off your butt and do
something
. It might take the enemy by surprise.
    I quickly got the sergeants together and told them thatmy simple plan was to make a break right down the road past the burning tank, fighting all the way. One thing in our favor was that I’d made each man carry four hand grenades instead of the usual two (my first hunch).
    My orders were to move out in single files on either side of the road with the men ten yards apart and no two abreast, to avoid bunching. Each man was to have a grenade in hand to be thrown over the hedgerow on my command. After getting rid of the first grenade, they were to run like hell. While they ran they were to keep throwing grenades as often as possible, but to be sure to keep on running. When they were out of grenades they were to fire their rifles at the top of the hedges while they ran. When rifles were empty, the orders were to keep on running without stopping to reload.
    Grimly, and without a word, the sergeants moved off and quietly lined up the men. In a few moments we headed for the burning tank. Platoon Sergeant Reid