Frank Sisson - I Marched with Patton

Contents

Contents

Clouds of dust rolled across the dirt road, adding to the confusion of a traffic jam. A line of Sherman tanks blocked a military convoy bringing truckloads of American troops to the front in France. The vehicles and equipment looked like they were backed up clear to Texas. This particular crossing was a vital connection that had become a piled-up main road because of the heavy transportation needed to serve the outposts. The bitter wind made for short tempers. The two soldiers watched the traffic jam. Both men shook their heads.

The sergeant turned to me and said, Corporal Sisson, you know how to make things work. Go out there in the midst of that mess and show them how the Six-Sixty-Seventh Field Artillery Battalion, Third Army, Tenth Armored Division does things.

Yes, sir, I said and trotted out to the center of the snarl just as a tank commander popped up out of the turret to scream at a truck driver.

Okay, boys! I yelled like I owned the road. Ive been appointed the coordinator of this junction, and Im telling both of you to move back. We got business with the Germans, and youre holding up the action. Now, move back now!

The tank started to rumble backward, and the truck shifted into reverse. Once I got the vehicles rolling, I allowed a truckload of infantry headed for the front line to plow through. The boys waved a friendly salute as the truck turned to the north. Nobody had to tell me that the truck would probably come back empty or with bodies piled in the back.

While I didnt get there as early as some of the men who landed on Normandy, I knew what we were facing. The generals had nicknamed the breakout from the Normandy beachhead Operation Cobra. Air-support bombing had taken a heavy toll on the Panzer Lehr Division tanks working the area and knocked the Nazis on their butts. The Cobra assault bit the Nazis with a deadly venom.

Hitlers nefarious battle plan had relied heavily on the Panzer Lehr Division to spearhead shutting down the Allies D-Day invasion. A general named Fritz Bayerlein headed the German tank assault and was known for his hard-driving command under General Erwin Rommel. Nobody had to lecture us that we had to stop this son of a bitch from killing our men.

Come on! I screamed at a jeep trying to fudge its way ahead of one of our Sherman tanks. Stop right there! I rammed my fist at the jeep. Stay in line.

The driver halted.

The sergeant joked to me that they might promote me to head traffic cop, but I wasnt listening. Keeping the company rolling demanded my full attention. I wasnt trained for any of this troop movement stuff. I had to watch the drivers carefully, or Id get run over.

The brisk wind blew snow in my face, and the temperature had to be way, way below 32 degrees. I had experienced cold weather back home in Oklahoma, but nothing like this. I thought my nose might fall off. Heavy engines propelled warm steam that helped protect my face, but the putrid smell nearly turned my stomach.

Okay! I shouted. Keep it moving! No slowing down! Truckloads of soldiers kept rumbling by.

I looked up the road and saw a jeep barreling toward me with flags attached to the fenders. Only one such vehicle was ever dressed out with those kinds of ensigns. This had to be the big boys. I threw up my arms to stop all traffic.

As the jeep got closer, I recognized General Dwight D. Eisenhower, the supreme Allied commander of the multinational forces in Europe, coming straight at me. I looked again. With him were General Omar Bradley, and, sure enough, there was General George Patton.

Patton was taller than I expected, six foot two, and both sat and stood with straight posture. As they approached the traffic, the general stood up as if to get a better view of the traffic jam. He had the bearing of an athlete, and wearing that steel helmet over his white hair added to the sense of authority that he bore. Pattons face carried a stern, no-nonsense look. I could see his eyes surveying the entire scene with an intensity that wouldnt stand for any monkey business. To say the general was impressive, is to say the least.

With all the propriety they taught me in boot camp, I snapped to attention with the classiest salute I had ever given in my entire life. My backbone stiffened like a cedar board.

The jeep swerved by, with all three generals returning the salute. General Patton looked me straight in the eye, smiling like he appreciated the way I was directing traffic. I stood there in rigid attention until they were long gone down the road. Finally, I relaxed. I couldnt believe my eyes. I had just ushered along the top brass, and General George Patton had grinned at me. I could see that he approved of what I was doing. His slight smile struck me with an affirmation Id remember all my life.

By this time, the traffic jam had cleared, and my job directing traffic was virtually over. I started back for the other side of the road when I heard a whistling noise far above my head. My reflexes sent me diving into the bar ditch. An explosion hurled dirt and debris in every direction. Another artillery blast suddenly took out three trees not a hundred feet away. The Nazis must have picked up on General Eisenhowers trail and started shelling the crossroads with everything they had.

I couldnt stay in the ditch, or Id be dead for certain. I looked up and saw our infantry running in every direction. Twenty feet away was a panzer tank that had been knocked out earlier and was sticking halfway out of the ditch on the side of the road. If I could get under that hunk of steel, I might survive. I ran and took a dive.

Another artillery shell exploded in the middle of the field far enough away that I was still safe. I scooted under the panzer. To my surprise, I found another soldier with the same idea lying a few feet away from me.

You all right? I asked.

I think so, he muttered. Hell, who can tell?

I stared. A-Are you... Greg Cain?

What? The soldier rolled over. His jaw dropped. Frank? Frank Sisson?

Another explosion shook the ground.

We grabbed each other. I had gone to high school with Greg, in Weleetka, Oklahoma. Now we had been reunited nearly five thousand miles from home. We hugged each other, and tears came to our eyes.

Out here in this godforsaken French field, we run into each other! Greg Cain kept shaking his head.

I just couldnt believe my eyes. What a deal! I had left England on Christmas Day 1944 and crossed the English Channel to land in Saint-L, France. Of course, D-Day had already occurred on June 6, when General Omar Bradleys First Army landed. General Patton had flown into the battle on July 6 in a C-47 transport airplane accompanied by P-47 Thunderbolt fighter planes. He landed on an airstrip close to Omaha Beach. The general wasted no time in moving the Third Army forward and kicking the Germans in the pants. The Nazis still didnt know he was in front of them and assumed he would show up in the Pas de Calais area of France. By the time I got to Saint-L, I was sure the Germans had figured that theyd made a couple of horrendous mistakes, including trying to guess where General Patton was. So, here I was out in the middle of a crossroads, talking to an old buddy from high school while Pattons Third Army surged forward.

Another thunderous blast rocked the tank, and we hung on for dear life.

How long you been here, Greg?

I came ashore on Omaha Beach on D-Day. Been sluggin it out ever since.