My Capture at Kasserine / Faide Pass - North Africa
by Captain Billy Bingham, 34th Inf. Div.
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by Captain Billy Bingham, 34th Inf. Div.
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I should have written this some 47 years ago, when it was all fresh in my mind. I was captured by the
Germans on 17 February 1943. I had my first test of combat on or about 1 February at Sidi Bouzid in
Algeria. I was riding in a British "lorry" (truck), when artillery fire knocked out the British lorry.
During the shelling, the Transportation Officer failed to stop. I was stranded in the desert with 25
enlisted men.
The next morning some Arabs came along, and we purchased some dates and two chickens. We were
fortunate to have a Jew in our platoon, who could speak a little Arabic.
At Kasserine and Faide Pass, the Germans struck first on February 14. Our Battalion was commanded
by Lt. Col. J.H. VanVliet. We had dug in and were supposed to be protecting a hill thereby. Lt. Col.
VanVliet was charged with defending "the pass," along with the 168th Infantry Regiment, 34th Division,
which was commanded by Colonel Thomas D. Drake.
We were young, dumb, out-gunned, out-maneuvered and out-smarted. We learned the hard way -
make no mistake about it - "It was a baptism of blood."
Our troops turned back the attacks on the hill with heavy losses, but the Germans came charging
through the pass with the 15th and 17th Panzer Divisions, shooting everything that moved, and we
were over-run, isolated behind enemy lines. After the German bombers knocked out our artillery,
we were left with nothing but rifles and mortars.
The 'Afrika Korps' had over-run the Pass, and by-passed us. We had grandstand seats to watch the
destruction of two battalions of the 1st Armored Division on the plains below us. On February 15,
we saw our first friendly airplane, a spitfire which dropped a message, "Cut your way, if possible,
to Sbeitla," a town about 35 miles to our rear.
There were 1200 men in our battalion on the 14th of February 1943, only 125 remained after the 17th.
The rest were killed, wounded, captured or scattered.
On a desperate march, Lt. Col. VanVliet, and Col. Drake, tried to lead the troops that remained back
to Sbeitla, a town more than 35 miles in the rear.
On a retreat, it is S.O.P. (Standard Operating Procedure), because retreating soldiers can rarely take
wounded soldiers with them; the wounded usually lie where they fall, to die of their wounds, freeze
to death, or die in the hot desert sun, be shot or be taken captive by the enemy.
We started out carrying mortars, base plates and tripods. After a few miles, many of the men
abandoned their equipment in the dark. As a result, some of us would stumble over mortars and
abandoned tripods.
What was left of the 168th Infantry Regiment, scattered into three groups. On our retreat out of the
pass, some of us stepped on mines that we had laid to discourage the Germans from attacking. We
lost several men.
The soldiers were dead tired. We had no water or food for three days. We had covered 26 miles
through the flat sand and cacti. When German troops attacked, they caught us, infested with
thousands of cacti, in the sand dunes. As we ran through the cactus, the stickers were embedded in
our legs. I picked out the stickers for 6 weeks after being captured.
By the time the Germans caught up with us, we were in poor condition, dead tired. It was more like
a round up than a battle. I saw a few troops fire a few shots, and fall asleep.
On our march out of Kasserine/Faide Pass, I saw Arabs tearing the uniforms off dead soldiers. Dogs
were gnawing on the bodies of those killed on the 14th, the wreckage of a terrible battle. War is hell,
and it seems that God is on the side of those who got there first with the moistest.
When we were captured, I thought we were as tired as we could be; but the Germans promptly
marched us another 22 miles in the opposite direction, again with no food or water. The only thing
that kept us going was the promise of water.
I had been shot in the upper thigh with a fragment from a German mortar, which was fired from a passing
personnel carrier. For this wound, I was awarded the "Purple Heart," per Special Order No. 9, APO 372,
Headquarters, U.S. Army, dated 2/17/43.
I have never been so tired or thirsty. My tongue began to swell. I have never been that hungry for food,
except when I was a refugee among the peasants near Warsaw, Poland after the Yalta Conference. I will
discuss this later in my memoirs.
By the time the Germans had marched us back to Sax, we had no food or water for three whole days.
We were lightly guarded at Sax, because no one was in any condition to escape.
The first food we got from the Germans, was one quart (2 pounds) of 'horse meat' for ten men. Knowing
the nature of starved POW's it is easy for one to understand how some wound up without a bite.
While in Sax, it was announced that we would be flown, by tri-motor plane (old 3 motor planes made
by Ford) to Capua, Italy, near Napoli (Naples). Col. VanViet told several of us, "When the plane gets
off the ground, we will over-power the pilot, and I will take over the controls and fly us back to our
lines in Tunisia." I stayed close to the Colonel, but found out later that he had only soloed in a Piper
Cub.
The Germans loaded us in the back of the plane. They put us on the floor as close together as they
could cram us. A German soldat (soldier) stationed up front with a machine gun. He said he would
shoot the first man that stood up. The man behind me, got sick, vomited all over my back and down
my collar. In order to avoid radar, the plane never got over 50-100 feet above the water.
We landed at the Naples Airport and were loaded into open Italian trucks. The Germans handed us
over to Italian guards. We were paraded through Naples to the jeers of the natives and barraged with
garbage and solid and liquid excrement. We were taken to Capua, north of Naples, to a compound, a
tent city. There were just two water faucets and some holes in the ground for the sanitary needs of
almost 5000 prisoners. Many of us were British troops, captured at Tobruk in North Africa.
There were no blankets and damn little food. We ate cauliflower stalks, no cauliflower. The Germans
refused to feed us, they said the responsibility to feed us was that of the Italians, since we were in
Italy.
Every man took dysentery. In the first month of captivity, I lost over 30 pounds. While marching
through Capru, the Italians threw rotten oranges, pots and pans at us, and even struck some POW's we
were carrying on stretchers with sticks. The stretchers were made by buttoning field jackets together.
The Italians were demonstrating their loyalty to the Germans by mistreating us.
We marched from Capua to Naples where we were loaded into a railroad train. Just as we pulled out
of Naples, three of our fighter planes, or small bombers, dropped three one hundred pound bombs on
our train, which was not marked "RED CROSS or P.O.W.," as the Geneva Convention dictated. The
bombs blew up the car right behind the one I was riding in. It killed most of the men in that car, and
blew a few holes in our car which enabled us to see out. All cars had been boarded up and nailed shut,
as we left Naples.
Continue....
Germans on 17 February 1943. I had my first test of combat on or about 1 February at Sidi Bouzid in
Algeria. I was riding in a British "lorry" (truck), when artillery fire knocked out the British lorry.
During the shelling, the Transportation Officer failed to stop. I was stranded in the desert with 25
enlisted men.
The next morning some Arabs came along, and we purchased some dates and two chickens. We were
fortunate to have a Jew in our platoon, who could speak a little Arabic.
At Kasserine and Faide Pass, the Germans struck first on February 14. Our Battalion was commanded
by Lt. Col. J.H. VanVliet. We had dug in and were supposed to be protecting a hill thereby. Lt. Col.
VanVliet was charged with defending "the pass," along with the 168th Infantry Regiment, 34th Division,
which was commanded by Colonel Thomas D. Drake.
We were young, dumb, out-gunned, out-maneuvered and out-smarted. We learned the hard way -
make no mistake about it - "It was a baptism of blood."
Our troops turned back the attacks on the hill with heavy losses, but the Germans came charging
through the pass with the 15th and 17th Panzer Divisions, shooting everything that moved, and we
were over-run, isolated behind enemy lines. After the German bombers knocked out our artillery,
we were left with nothing but rifles and mortars.
The 'Afrika Korps' had over-run the Pass, and by-passed us. We had grandstand seats to watch the
destruction of two battalions of the 1st Armored Division on the plains below us. On February 15,
we saw our first friendly airplane, a spitfire which dropped a message, "Cut your way, if possible,
to Sbeitla," a town about 35 miles to our rear.
There were 1200 men in our battalion on the 14th of February 1943, only 125 remained after the 17th.
The rest were killed, wounded, captured or scattered.
On a desperate march, Lt. Col. VanVliet, and Col. Drake, tried to lead the troops that remained back
to Sbeitla, a town more than 35 miles in the rear.
On a retreat, it is S.O.P. (Standard Operating Procedure), because retreating soldiers can rarely take
wounded soldiers with them; the wounded usually lie where they fall, to die of their wounds, freeze
to death, or die in the hot desert sun, be shot or be taken captive by the enemy.
We started out carrying mortars, base plates and tripods. After a few miles, many of the men
abandoned their equipment in the dark. As a result, some of us would stumble over mortars and
abandoned tripods.
What was left of the 168th Infantry Regiment, scattered into three groups. On our retreat out of the
pass, some of us stepped on mines that we had laid to discourage the Germans from attacking. We
lost several men.
The soldiers were dead tired. We had no water or food for three days. We had covered 26 miles
through the flat sand and cacti. When German troops attacked, they caught us, infested with
thousands of cacti, in the sand dunes. As we ran through the cactus, the stickers were embedded in
our legs. I picked out the stickers for 6 weeks after being captured.
By the time the Germans caught up with us, we were in poor condition, dead tired. It was more like
a round up than a battle. I saw a few troops fire a few shots, and fall asleep.
On our march out of Kasserine/Faide Pass, I saw Arabs tearing the uniforms off dead soldiers. Dogs
were gnawing on the bodies of those killed on the 14th, the wreckage of a terrible battle. War is hell,
and it seems that God is on the side of those who got there first with the moistest.
When we were captured, I thought we were as tired as we could be; but the Germans promptly
marched us another 22 miles in the opposite direction, again with no food or water. The only thing
that kept us going was the promise of water.
I had been shot in the upper thigh with a fragment from a German mortar, which was fired from a passing
personnel carrier. For this wound, I was awarded the "Purple Heart," per Special Order No. 9, APO 372,
Headquarters, U.S. Army, dated 2/17/43.
I have never been so tired or thirsty. My tongue began to swell. I have never been that hungry for food,
except when I was a refugee among the peasants near Warsaw, Poland after the Yalta Conference. I will
discuss this later in my memoirs.
By the time the Germans had marched us back to Sax, we had no food or water for three whole days.
We were lightly guarded at Sax, because no one was in any condition to escape.
The first food we got from the Germans, was one quart (2 pounds) of 'horse meat' for ten men. Knowing
the nature of starved POW's it is easy for one to understand how some wound up without a bite.
While in Sax, it was announced that we would be flown, by tri-motor plane (old 3 motor planes made
by Ford) to Capua, Italy, near Napoli (Naples). Col. VanViet told several of us, "When the plane gets
off the ground, we will over-power the pilot, and I will take over the controls and fly us back to our
lines in Tunisia." I stayed close to the Colonel, but found out later that he had only soloed in a Piper
Cub.
The Germans loaded us in the back of the plane. They put us on the floor as close together as they
could cram us. A German soldat (soldier) stationed up front with a machine gun. He said he would
shoot the first man that stood up. The man behind me, got sick, vomited all over my back and down
my collar. In order to avoid radar, the plane never got over 50-100 feet above the water.
We landed at the Naples Airport and were loaded into open Italian trucks. The Germans handed us
over to Italian guards. We were paraded through Naples to the jeers of the natives and barraged with
garbage and solid and liquid excrement. We were taken to Capua, north of Naples, to a compound, a
tent city. There were just two water faucets and some holes in the ground for the sanitary needs of
almost 5000 prisoners. Many of us were British troops, captured at Tobruk in North Africa.
There were no blankets and damn little food. We ate cauliflower stalks, no cauliflower. The Germans
refused to feed us, they said the responsibility to feed us was that of the Italians, since we were in
Italy.
Every man took dysentery. In the first month of captivity, I lost over 30 pounds. While marching
through Capru, the Italians threw rotten oranges, pots and pans at us, and even struck some POW's we
were carrying on stretchers with sticks. The stretchers were made by buttoning field jackets together.
The Italians were demonstrating their loyalty to the Germans by mistreating us.
We marched from Capua to Naples where we were loaded into a railroad train. Just as we pulled out
of Naples, three of our fighter planes, or small bombers, dropped three one hundred pound bombs on
our train, which was not marked "RED CROSS or P.O.W.," as the Geneva Convention dictated. The
bombs blew up the car right behind the one I was riding in. It killed most of the men in that car, and
blew a few holes in our car which enabled us to see out. All cars had been boarded up and nailed shut,
as we left Naples.
Continue....
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