The Purple Heart w/Oak Leaf Cluster

It's unlikely that anyone could make it through that amount of WWII combat experience without a Purple Heart, and true to form, my dad got two Purple Hearts with an Oakleaf Cluster (wounded three times).

The first time was during a beach attack. As part of the Allies' Seventh Army Attack (code named Operation 'Dragoon') they were invading Southern France near the Rivera on August 15-16, 1944. Under enemy fire, he was attacking when he found a junior infantryman sitting on the ground crying. He checked to see where he was wounded, as it wasn't immediately apparent. It turned out 'the kid' was crying because his gun was jammed and wouldn't shoot. So my dad took this guy's gun and stood up with the gun positioned butt down. He lifted his foot to un-jam the gun and simultaneously, a German bullet struck that foot and knocked dad to the ground.

When he looked, he saw a hole in the front and back of his boot. His first thought was that the bullet had gone right through the ankle or foot. He was lucky, however, and found that the bullet traveled around the bone and not through it. Discussing this with an Army veteran recently, I realized it wasn't just luck. The hard leather of the boots was designed to slow the impact of bullets. Obviously, it worked.

In Late 1944, the Third Infantry Division, 15th Battalion was in the Vosges Mountains at the front of the front of the Allied Southern Invasion Campaign. The Battle of the Bulge in the North was being planned and things were becoming desperate for the Nazis on both the Northern and Southern European fronts. Hitler had convinced his generals that the sudden counterattack against the allies in the Ardennes Mountains in the North would be successful. However because of the troop commitment necessary for this attack in the North they had resorted to using fanatical efforts to stop the Allied advances from the South. Apparently even Hitler was aware of Patten's potential to move his 'Sturm Division' (Storm Division) to strike quickly from the South.

One example was a hand picked Nazi Waffen SS Lieutenant/medal recipient positioned at the end of a plateau in a fox hole. For his mission, he was given a machine-gun with a periscope and trigger extension so he could remain undetected. He would then be well protected once he started shooting. With more than a weeks supply of ammunition, his objective was to delay the Allies to allow the counterattack to progress without a flank attack from the South. How typically arrogant these Nazis leaders were to think that well placed machine gunners like this could stop the advance of these Americans.

On December 18th, 1944, as part of Operation 'Northwind' (code name for Patton's troop movement Northward toward Alsace Lorraine, France), George E. Haggerty and his unit prepared to move out at midnight. It was an eerily moonlit night with a severe chill in the air. Just past midnight, early the next day, they began their advance. One by one they left their fox holes and moved across the plateau. Then, suddenly, this Nazi SS soldier opened fire on the unsuspecting Americans. All except one in the unit was hit and killed and it appeared the SS might succeed in delaying the advance here.

My dad was the rear man that night. He dove down on the frozen ground on his stomach looking at the source of the shots quickly, trying to lie "as close to the ground as possible." The Nazi Lieutenant shot another blast and several bullets shot right at him came dangerously close and actually filled the pack on my dad's back. Luckily those bullets didn't hit him. Unfortunately, the last bullet in the clip was another tracer and traveled at a slightly slower and lower trajectory. It ripped through dad's face, knocked his nose to one side and ended up lodged down behind his jaw.

Nonetheless, knowing that the machine-gunner was now changing clips, George quickly rolled to one side and launched a grenade directly at the fox hole. (He determined the location using Murphy's law of combat #28.' Tracers work BOTH ways').

The blast was muffled so dad wasn't sure of its impact. As quickly as dad had fired the grenade, the wounded SS officer prepared to return the fire. Their machine-like reactions and split second timing had left the two of them wounded and struggling for survival.

Dad then leaped up to run for better cover and warn the others back at the fox hole from where they moved out just minutes earlier. As he ran, another burst of SS machine-gun fire shredded the multiple layers of pants he was wearing for warmth. Miraculously, however, the bullets didn't penetrate the skin.

Leaping back into the American fox hole where two others were positioned, he landed with the winter moon shinning on his face. When he removed his hand and asked "How's it look?" the response left no questions. One of the two turned to the side and vomited, the other simply sighed his name with a desperate sounding tone and told him to "cover it back up, please".

He said it felt as though he had been hit by a baseball bat across his face. Blood was everywhere. He didn't say how he felt about the damage. You see, my dad was a very good looking young man. So good that he was given a nickname for his 'pretty boy' baby face by the others. One can only imagine how he must have felt.

Later that morning, the remaining troops cautiously overcame the critically wounded Nazi Waffen SS Officer. When they reached him, he was found bled to death with his belt (pulled tight by his teeth) used as a tourniquet to stop the bleeding from his stub of an arm. The arm was blown off near the shoulder from a grenade direct hit. However, the limited damage caused in such close quarters shows the grenade was a dud . Had it not been a dud, the realization that George had thrown that grenade and beaten the Nazi Waffen SS Lieutenant 'one on one' would have happened while he was still there with the other men. By this time, however, he was already well on his way to the first aid station and the others were involved in some pretty heavy action.

There are other stories of these 'live' machine gun booby traps that I have read about, even as late as Christmas Day.

The roast turkey, creamed potatoes, and other supplementary items which the Division Quartermaster had received for the Yule dinner were not to be consumed on Christmas Day by the 15th Infantry. On the contrary, the day was to be only another fierce episode which saw the Germans resisting with a fanaticism generated partly by the exaggerated version of the Rundstedt drive to the north given them by their superiors. p292

Soon after, on Christmas Eve night, dad and other wounded were being moved form one aid station to another. Traveling in the dark, the truck he was in was driving with no headlights to keep enemy aircraft from spotting them. They were simply following the moonlit tracks in the snow. Dad was sitting on the back of the truck facing the rear with his legs hanging down. I sometimes wondered about his feelings then although he never talked about it. As far as he knew then, his face was permanently disfigured at only 19 years of age!

The third wound came when the truck, traveling down a hill, swerved to avoid enemy fire and slammed into a disabled tank wrecker that wasn't completely off the road. The sudden stop sent my dad flying through the truck among the other wounded and he was knocked unconscious on impact with the back of the cab. This impact also took a large chunk out of his left biceps. With a severe concussion, wounded face and arm, he finally arrived at that next aid station.

It was there that his luck again prevailed in the from of a unique Christmas present. A 'hot shot' plastic surgeon was there near the front lines and reassembled his nose and face remarkably well. So well that only with an uncomfortably close examination could one recognize the tiny hairline scar, even many years later.