Post by jrwentz on Oct 23, 2021 3:06:59 GMT -5
Connie - I noticed you had asked if Ralph Hill was with the 106th and I don't think I answered that anyplace. He was still a captain, I think, in Dec of 1944, but he went on to become a major before he left the service. If I recall correctly he trained a lot of FAB officers, and he was a Captain in one of the FABs with the 1st Division before September. This excerpt from "A Time for Trumpets" fills in some more details:
Ralph G. Hill, Jr., was a captain in command of a detachment of three other officers and five enlisted men detailed to serve, once the U.S. Army entered Germany, as a military government for a Wehrkreis. Hill and his detachment had arrived in eastern Belgium in September at a time when it appeared that American troops were about to penetrate well beyond the German frontier. When the drive ended atop the Schnee Eifel, he and his detachment assumed responsibility for handling relations with Belgian civilians in and just north of the Losheim Gap.
On the order of the commander of the first division to occupy defensive positions north of the gap, Hill evacuated some ten thousand civilians from the region, leaving behind only some four hundred inmates and attendants of an asylum for geriatric patients in the division headquarters town of Bütgenbach, and around two hundred farmers, who were to care for the bêtes. When the 99th Division assumed responsibility for the area in November, the division commander, Maj. Gen. Walter E. Lauer, found the lowing of the cattle upsetting (two hundred men were unable to keep them all milked on schedule) and ordered Hill to get rid of them. Since driving the animals westward would tie up military traffic for days, the only solution appeared to be slaughter. Hill had the Belgian farmers set up twelve butchering stations, and when American supply trucks had delivered their loads in Bütgenbach, the Belgians reloaded the empty trucks with meat, which the drivers delivered to towns and cities to the rear. There the civilian authorities, if notified in advance, would be happy to provide men to unload it. Yet in order to notify the civilian authorities, Hill needed a reliable communications system. Carrying a flashlight and a field telephone, he went across the street from the house where he was billeted in the town of Büllingen and descended the stairs into the cellar of the post office. There he found an underground telephone cable and a long row of terminal points. Connecting his field telephone to each in turn, he finally got a response: “Bonn hier.”[120] He had reached a female operator in the German city of Bonn alongside the Rhine. When the woman learned she was talking to an American soldier in Büllingen, she thought it hilarious. Where did her switchboard indicate his call was originating from, Hill asked. When she said Spa, Hill disconnected her and as soon as possible sent a man to Spa. Once the man located the terminus of the cable and convinced civilian authorities to run a line to headquarters of the First Army in the Hôtel Britannique, Hill had the communications network he needed. To make it more comprehensive, he arranged for lines to be run to headquarters of the 99th Division in Bütgenbach and to headquarters of the 2d Division (later the 106th) in St. Vith.
On December 16, Ralph Hill faced another day of supervising the butchering of cattle and arranging for receiving and shipping the meat. When he tried to place a telephone call to Eupen through the 99th Division’s switchboard, the operator told him the line was out, cut by “paratroopers.” Talking to the signal officer, he learned that the line had gone out before daylight, that the officer had sent out a trouble-shooting crew that failed to return, and that a second crew had found the men of the first dead in a ditch. When the signal officer learned that Hill had a line to Spa and thence to Eupen (headquarters of the V Corps), he was elated and quickly put such a load on Hill’s little switchboard that Hill had to ask him for operators to help. If the 99th Division was having communications problems, thought Hill, perhaps the 106th Division was too. When that proved to be the case, Hill immediately handled a call from General Jones to General Middleton. As it turned out, lines from the two divisions to their respective corps headquarters were in and out throughout the day, but by seven o’clock that evening both were in again and Hill let the 99th Division’s operators go.
It was late in the evening when the 106th Division’s line to the VIII Corps at Bastogne went out once more, and a call came through Hill’s switchboard for MONARCH 6 (codename for Middleton). Hill connected it and listened in. It was General Jones, talking in riddles in case the Germans were tapping the line, about his regiments on the Schnee Eifel. He thought it would be wise to withdraw his “two keys [regiments] from where they are because they are very lonely.”[121] He knew, Jones continued, that he would have “two big friends [combat commands] to rescue them in the morning,” but he thought it would “be wise to prevent a scissors working on them.” Middleton responded that Jones was the commander on the ground. “You know how things are up there better than I do,” he said.[122] At that moment, a call came into the switchboard from the 99th Division. Since the departing operators had taken their telephones with them, leaving Hill with only one, he disconnected Jones and Middleton momentarily to tell the caller he would get back to him when the line was free; but he quickly reconnected Jones and Middleton. That brief period — only seconds — may have been the time when Middleton added, “but I agree it would be wise to withdraw them.”[123] When Jones put down the telephone, he was convinced either that Middleton wanted him to leave his regiments in place or that he was putting the onus of the decision entirely on him. “Well, that’s it,” he said to one of his staff. “Middleton says we should leave them in.”[124] A short while later that decision appeared to be confirmed when Jones saw an order from Middleton — issued earlier in the day but just arrived — directing no withdrawals unless positions became totally untenable and designating a line not far behind the existing front that was to be held “at all costs.” Jones apparently failed to note that that line in his sector was the west bank of the Our River, well behind the Schnee Eifel. Meanwhile at Bastogne, when General Middleton put down his phone, he turned to a member of his staff. “I just talked to Jones,” he said. “I told him to pull his regiments off the Schnee Eifel.” That night the 106th Division’s G-2, Colonel Stout, noted in his periodic report: “The enemy is capable of pinching off the Schnee Eifel area...at any time.”[125]
MacDonald, Charles B.. A Time For Trumpets: The Untold Story of the Battle of the Bulge (pp. 175-181). Lume Books. Kindle Edition.
Ralph G. Hill, Jr., was a captain in command of a detachment of three other officers and five enlisted men detailed to serve, once the U.S. Army entered Germany, as a military government for a Wehrkreis. Hill and his detachment had arrived in eastern Belgium in September at a time when it appeared that American troops were about to penetrate well beyond the German frontier. When the drive ended atop the Schnee Eifel, he and his detachment assumed responsibility for handling relations with Belgian civilians in and just north of the Losheim Gap.
On the order of the commander of the first division to occupy defensive positions north of the gap, Hill evacuated some ten thousand civilians from the region, leaving behind only some four hundred inmates and attendants of an asylum for geriatric patients in the division headquarters town of Bütgenbach, and around two hundred farmers, who were to care for the bêtes. When the 99th Division assumed responsibility for the area in November, the division commander, Maj. Gen. Walter E. Lauer, found the lowing of the cattle upsetting (two hundred men were unable to keep them all milked on schedule) and ordered Hill to get rid of them. Since driving the animals westward would tie up military traffic for days, the only solution appeared to be slaughter. Hill had the Belgian farmers set up twelve butchering stations, and when American supply trucks had delivered their loads in Bütgenbach, the Belgians reloaded the empty trucks with meat, which the drivers delivered to towns and cities to the rear. There the civilian authorities, if notified in advance, would be happy to provide men to unload it. Yet in order to notify the civilian authorities, Hill needed a reliable communications system. Carrying a flashlight and a field telephone, he went across the street from the house where he was billeted in the town of Büllingen and descended the stairs into the cellar of the post office. There he found an underground telephone cable and a long row of terminal points. Connecting his field telephone to each in turn, he finally got a response: “Bonn hier.”[120] He had reached a female operator in the German city of Bonn alongside the Rhine. When the woman learned she was talking to an American soldier in Büllingen, she thought it hilarious. Where did her switchboard indicate his call was originating from, Hill asked. When she said Spa, Hill disconnected her and as soon as possible sent a man to Spa. Once the man located the terminus of the cable and convinced civilian authorities to run a line to headquarters of the First Army in the Hôtel Britannique, Hill had the communications network he needed. To make it more comprehensive, he arranged for lines to be run to headquarters of the 99th Division in Bütgenbach and to headquarters of the 2d Division (later the 106th) in St. Vith.
On December 16, Ralph Hill faced another day of supervising the butchering of cattle and arranging for receiving and shipping the meat. When he tried to place a telephone call to Eupen through the 99th Division’s switchboard, the operator told him the line was out, cut by “paratroopers.” Talking to the signal officer, he learned that the line had gone out before daylight, that the officer had sent out a trouble-shooting crew that failed to return, and that a second crew had found the men of the first dead in a ditch. When the signal officer learned that Hill had a line to Spa and thence to Eupen (headquarters of the V Corps), he was elated and quickly put such a load on Hill’s little switchboard that Hill had to ask him for operators to help. If the 99th Division was having communications problems, thought Hill, perhaps the 106th Division was too. When that proved to be the case, Hill immediately handled a call from General Jones to General Middleton. As it turned out, lines from the two divisions to their respective corps headquarters were in and out throughout the day, but by seven o’clock that evening both were in again and Hill let the 99th Division’s operators go.
It was late in the evening when the 106th Division’s line to the VIII Corps at Bastogne went out once more, and a call came through Hill’s switchboard for MONARCH 6 (codename for Middleton). Hill connected it and listened in. It was General Jones, talking in riddles in case the Germans were tapping the line, about his regiments on the Schnee Eifel. He thought it would be wise to withdraw his “two keys [regiments] from where they are because they are very lonely.”[121] He knew, Jones continued, that he would have “two big friends [combat commands] to rescue them in the morning,” but he thought it would “be wise to prevent a scissors working on them.” Middleton responded that Jones was the commander on the ground. “You know how things are up there better than I do,” he said.[122] At that moment, a call came into the switchboard from the 99th Division. Since the departing operators had taken their telephones with them, leaving Hill with only one, he disconnected Jones and Middleton momentarily to tell the caller he would get back to him when the line was free; but he quickly reconnected Jones and Middleton. That brief period — only seconds — may have been the time when Middleton added, “but I agree it would be wise to withdraw them.”[123] When Jones put down the telephone, he was convinced either that Middleton wanted him to leave his regiments in place or that he was putting the onus of the decision entirely on him. “Well, that’s it,” he said to one of his staff. “Middleton says we should leave them in.”[124] A short while later that decision appeared to be confirmed when Jones saw an order from Middleton — issued earlier in the day but just arrived — directing no withdrawals unless positions became totally untenable and designating a line not far behind the existing front that was to be held “at all costs.” Jones apparently failed to note that that line in his sector was the west bank of the Our River, well behind the Schnee Eifel. Meanwhile at Bastogne, when General Middleton put down his phone, he turned to a member of his staff. “I just talked to Jones,” he said. “I told him to pull his regiments off the Schnee Eifel.” That night the 106th Division’s G-2, Colonel Stout, noted in his periodic report: “The enemy is capable of pinching off the Schnee Eifel area...at any time.”[125]
MacDonald, Charles B.. A Time For Trumpets: The Untold Story of the Battle of the Bulge (pp. 175-181). Lume Books. Kindle Edition.
