Dear Boo and Bubble,
Captain and I had to go to Greenville this past week for the funeral of a very dear friend, Bettsy Hardaway. She was 96 and had been in declining health for quite a few years. Her daughter, Katie Burgess, is one of my closest long-time friends. Seeing her and being with other family members brought back many memories worthy of sharing with you.
Bettsy and her beloved husband Eads – affectionately and appropriately nicknamed “Tank” – moved into the house right across the street from 3 Lakecrest in 1966. After ending his lifelong military career with a stint at the Pentagon, Tank came to Greenville as the new Dean of men at Furman University. Your great granddaddy Schaefer met this new hire at his alma mater with a great deal of skepticism and concern. He felt that someone hewn in the crucible of strictness and adherence to commands might not be a malleable fit for the more nuanced culture of academia. Nonetheless, he and Mamaw Mary greeted the Hardaways on their arrival day with warm handshakes, hugs and a platter of freshly fried chicken.
It didn’t take long for Tank to win Granddaddy over. There was no bombast in the man, one who could have rightly claimed it with the distinctions he accumulated over the course of his life – beginning at Westpoint and ending as a General Officer in the Army. No doubt, the humility with which he presented himself came mostly from genetics. His natural instincts gravitated to the reserved side. He had no tendency to be the center of attention, much preferring to watch and listen to others and in many instances only responding with a soft chuckle and twinkle of the eye.
However, there was a part of this quietude that must have been forged from his experiences in combat during World War II. In August of 1944, as a Lt. Colonel, Tank commanded the 2nd Battalion of the 120th Infantry Regiment in the Army’s 30th Infantry Division. To better understand, I have turned to the account of Capt. Martin Blumenson entitled “Heroism Is Never Out of Date – The Mortain Counterattack.”
According to Blumenson, the German situation on August 1 was desperate. The Normandy invasion had expanded from a “limited breakthrough operation into a wide open, fast moving end run that outflanked the German defensive lines for a distance of 30 miles.” The breakthrough meant that Germany might have to withdraw from France which was an unacceptable option for Hitler because it meant the “inevitable loss of a great part of his combat trained forces” and abandoned equipment that comes with any withdrawal. Also, “to surrender France, to lose the missile bases along the Channel coast, to withdraw to the homeland, might signify the beginning of the end, defeat and disaster.”
The Germans chose an alternative plan – to re-establish a continuous defensive line in Normandy. If successful, they just might hold. In order to accomplish this, they had to “close the breach to their left. They had to recapture Avaranches. A counterattack was in order, a thrust toward Avranches through Mortain.”
After fighting constantly on the front lines for almost a month, the 30th Division was given a few days of rest at what command thought would be a relatively quiet place – Mortain. The village, buffeted by a craggy hill just to the east known as Hill #314, had been freed from German control by the army’s 1st Infantry Division only days before the 30th arrived to relieve them. The 2nd Battalion, under Tank’s leadership, took charge of surveillance from and defense of Hill #314. He set up a command post in the village in the Hotel de la Poste.
The transfer of responsibility for Mortain from the 1st to the 30th Division was woefully incomplete. The critical proper orientation to the terrain never happened. The 30th itself was not a full strength. Even with the addition of 800 replacements, the ranks remained thin. Two entire infantry battalions were absent.
“Tired because of the preceding month of combat, fatigued by the road march from Tessy-sur-Vire to Mortain that day, manning unfamiliar positions in unfamiliar terrain, the 30th Division troops were hardly in the best position to meet the German counterattack.”
Initially, when the Germans attacked, they were met without much resistance. However, the 2nd Battalion of infantrymen atop Hill #314, even while totally surrounded, “called such devastating artillery fire down on the panzer division, that the Germans were unable to advance after daylight.” This gave the Americans time to fortify and assess the situation.
Hitler was determined not to retreat. He gave his commanders no choice and ordered that “the attack be prosecuted daringly and recklessly to the sea.”
The Germans struck with a vengeance. As they surged through the village, Tank and his command group set out on foot to try to join their marooned troops up on Hill #314. They were captured soon after daybreak.
It took five days to defeat the Germans and take back Mortain. The combat is described as “small-unit, fierce close-range fighting by splinter groups maneuvering to outflank, and in turn, being outflanked……characterized by ambush and surprise and fought on the level of the individual
The battle had been won, but Tank now was a POW
in the capture of the German Nazis, where he remained until the war ended. He was forced to march such long
distances that the soles of his shoes disintegrated. He endured weather from which there was no
shelter and limited rations of food.
Back home in the States, Bettsy only knew that he had been
captured. She had no idea of his
whereabouts or condition. It was a very
dark period for them both.
Tank survived and when the war ended, he was freed and came home to a very thankful and proud wife. He was presented both the
Silver Star and the Distinguished Service Medal for his heroic service to the
country.
The friendship between Granddaddy Schaefer and
Tank grew ever close over the years that they lived across the street from one
another. Having served in the Navy
during the war, Granddaddy understood on many levels the sacrifices that men in
service made during that time. But he
knew that Tank had experienced the highest level next to death and he was very
curious about it. On many occasions, he
asked Tank to tell him about his time as a POW.
Tank always refused. Finally
Granddaddy promised that he would never mention it again if Tank would share
what happened just once. Tank acquiesced. The two of them sat alone in the
kitchen of 3 Lakecrest as Tank recounted the horrors he had endured. This honorable and brave man couched all of
his remarks in gratitude for the men under his command and humility that he survived.
Granddaddy kept his promise and from that point
on, their interactions revolved around more jovial things - such as the vegetables in their
gardens. When a tomato or squash
sprouted what appeared to be some unnatural appendage, they couldn’t wait to
share it with each other. It became a
contest to see who could cultivate the most pornographic vegetable!
After Tank retired from Furman, he was
diagnosed with cancer and had several extended stays in VA hospitals for
treatment. When Granddaddy asked if
there were anything he could do to help, Tank asked him to drive his car every
now and then to keep the battery from going dead. At least once a week, Granddaddy would go
across the street, get the keys from Bettsy, and take the car for a spin.
Now, this was after the state of South Carolina
authorized special license tags for former POWs and veterans honored with
medals for their service. Tank’s car had
such a plate designating both, including his Silver Star. I rather doubt it had anything to do with ego
or self-aggrandizement. More likely, it
was frugality – these particular plates were free to the veteran. One Monday morning, Granddaddy needed to get
to Furman to teach his Business Law class and decided to drive Tank’s car. The class started at 8:30 and Granddaddy was
running late. If he didn’t get there by
8:40, the rules allowed his students to leave without any penalty. Driving down Poinsett Highway towards the campus, he pushed
on the accelerator getting up to a speed well over the limit.
As luck would have it, a patrolman clocked him
and pulled him over.
Granddaddy had his driver’s license, of course, but he didn’t know where
Tank kept his registration papers. While
he fumbled around in the glove compartment looking for them, the patrolman came
up to the driver’s side and tapped on the window. Granddaddy rolled it down.
Before Granddaddy could say anything, the
officer spoke. “Sir, you were going a
bit more over the speed limit than I can allow.”
“Yes, sir, I know,” Granddaddy answered, preparing to conclude with an "I'm sorry."
“But, I’m going to let you go this time…”
Granddaddy was dumbstruck.
“And I just want to say ……… thank you for your
service.” The patrolman stood at
attention and saluted Granddaddy.
Granddaddy saluted in return, deciding not to confess that he had nothing to do with the honorifics on the license plate. As the patrolman made his way back to his car,
Granddaddy couldn’t help but chuckle. In
his heart, he knew that Tank would be very pleased to have him take
credit for the acts he never committed
