December 22nd 1944 1447 SS Oberg group and furer Zep Dietrich
stood by a map in his command post in Leglaze and smiled.

His sixth SS Panzer army had advanced 60 km deep into American defenses.

In front of him lay reports of panic among enemy troops of entire divisions retreating in disorder.

“Americans are not soldiers,” he told his chief of staff. “They are merchants playing at war. When it comes to real battle, they run.”

800 km to the south in the town of Nancy, General George Patton looked at the same map,
but his face showed not smuggness, but cold fury.

His third army was preparing for the most incredible maneuver in modern military history.

“In 48 hours,” Patton told his commanders, “We will pivot the entire army 90° and strike a blow the Germans will never forget.”

4 days later, Dietrich was no longer smiling.

His invincible SS army was encircled, and the Americans he had so despised were writing new rules of Blitz Creek.

This is the story of how mockery turned into nightmare and how Hitler’s greatest gamble became Patton’s greatest triumph.

On December 16th, 1944, at 0530 a.m.,
the silence of the Arden Forests was shattered by the thunder of a thousand guns.

Operation Va Mr Rein, Hitler’s last desperate attempt to change the course of the war, had begun.

200,000 German soldiers, 600 tanks, 1,900 guns crashed down on an 80 km front defended by just four American divisions.

It was the largest German offensive on the Western Front since 1940.

Hitler had chosen for his final strike the same place where four years earlier
his armies had broken through to the channel and crushed the French.

The Ardens, difficult terrain with dense forests and narrow roads, seemed the perfect place for a surprise attack.

The American command considered this sector quiet and stationed its least experienced units here.

The 106th Infantry Division had arrived at the front only 2 weeks earlier.
The 28th Infantry Division was recovering from heavy fighting in the Herkin Forest.

The first hours of the offensive seemed brilliant for the Germans.
American units caught off guard retreated in panic. Entire battalions surrendered.

On the first day, the Germans advanced 20 km.

In Berlin, Euphoria reigned. Gerbles prepared a proclamation of a second Dunkirk.

Vermach generals who had been retreating for months suddenly believed in the possibility of victory.

But in the allied headquarters at Versailles, the atmosphere was entirely different.

General Eisenhower realized the Germans had bet everything they had left.

This was not a tactical diversion.
It was a strategic gamble that could either prolong the war by a year or end it forever.

And so Eisenhower made the boldest decision of his career.
He called Patton.

The plan for Operation Vakdeam Rein was born in the German headquarters in the fall of 1944.

Out of desperation and unrealistic hopes, Hitler, squeezed between the advancing Red Army in the east and the allies in the west,
sought a way to radically change the situation.

On September 16th, 1944, the Furer summoned Colonel General Alfred Yodel
and announced a plan that shocked even this season staff officer.

German forces were to break through the Arden, cross the Moose River, capture Antwerp,
and split the Allied armies in half.

“If we manage to take Antwerp,” Hitler said, tracing his finger across the map.
“The British and Americans will be divided. They’ll have to make a separate piece with us,
and then we can throw everything against the Boleviks.”

The plan looked grandiose on paper.
Three armies, the fifth and sixth SS Panzer armies plus the seventh army were to cover 150 km to Antworp in just 4 days.

For this, Hitler concentrated the Reich’s last strategic reserves, 12 Panzer divisions, including the most elite SS units.

But Yodel and other generals saw obvious problems.

The Germans lacked fuel.
Each Panzer division had ammunition and supplies for only 150 km.

The Luftvafa could field at most 800 aircraft against 4,000 Allied.

And most importantly, the Americans were no longer the inexperienced noviceses defeated at Kazerine in 1943.

Field Marshal Ger von Runstead, nominal commander of the Western Front, called the operation a grand fantasy.

Field Marshal Walter Modle, who had to command the offensive directly, asked to scale it down.

But Hitler was adamant.
“This operation is our last chance,” he said.
“Either we break the allies now or we lose the war entirely.”

Preparation for the operation proceeded in strict secrecy.
The code name Vach Amrin, watch on the Rine, was intended to create the impression that the Germans were preparing for defense, not attack.

Troop movements took place only at night.
Radio communication was forbidden.
Officers swore oaths of silence under threat of execution.

By December 15th, the Germans had concentrated 200,000 men, 600 tanks and assault guns, 1,900 artillery pieces in the Ardan.

It was the largest concentration of German forces on the Western Front since the Normandy invasion.

Facing them, the Americans had only 83,000 soldiers in four divisions.
The US command considered the Arden too difficult for large-scale operations.

General Troy H. Middleton’s eighth corps held the sector with green and battered units.

German officer Troy Furer Fon Fright described the mood in American trenches before the attack:
“The Yanks played cards, listened to jazz on the radio, and dreamed of Christmas at home.
They had no idea what awaited them.”

On December 16th, 1944, at 0530, German artillery opened the heaviest barrage on the Western Front since D-Day.

1,900 guns simultaneously rained fire on American positions along an 80 km front.

Private James Magnamera of the 99th Infantry Division later recalled,
“I’d been in the infantry for 2 years, but I had never seen such hell.
The ground jumped under our feet. Trees fell like matchsticks.
It felt like the world was ending.”

But the artillery preparation lasted only 90 minutes.
The Germans could not afford to expend more ammunition.
They simply didn’t have the reserves.

At 0700, the infantry assault began, supported by tanks.
The first blows fell on the 14th Cavalry Group and the 106th Infantry Division.

These units were the least experienced in General Troy Middleton’s 8th Corps.

The 106th had arrived at the front only on December 11th and had not yet fully prepared positions.

The German offensive followed the classic Blitzkrieg pattern.
Tanks infiltrated weak spots in the defense while infantry mopped up strong points left behind.

The heaviest blows came from the first SS Panzer Division Leibstandarte on the northern flank
and the 12th SS Panzer Division Hitler Jugend in the center.

By noon the situation for the Americans was critical.
Two regimental combat teams of the 106th division, the 422nd and 423rd Infantry Regiments, were encircled near the village of Shonberg.

It was the largest American pocket since Baton.

Colonel George Dashane, commander of the 422nd, tried to break out,
but German tanks already controlled all the roads.

At 16:30, he received an order from division command:
“Hold positions at all costs. Help is on the way.”

But no help came.

General Allan Jones, commander of the 106th, had lost contact with half his units.
His headquarters in St. V turned into chaos.

Telephones rang constantly.
Couriers rushed in with conflicting reports.
The situation map became a mosaic of red blotches.

Meanwhile, German panzer units pushed deeper into American defenses.

The battle group of SS Obertorm Bonfurer Yahim Piper of the first SS Panzer Division advanced 25 km
and seized the village of Bullingan.

Here occurred the first major tragedy of the battle.
An American column—medics and service troops—ran into Piper’s tanks near Malmidi.

84 Americans surrendered,
but Paper’s SSmen executed the prisoners in a field.

This event, remembered as the Malmidi massacre, became a symbol of the brutality of the Ardan’s battle.

By the end of the day, the Germans had advanced 20 km along the front.
In American headquarters, confusion reigned.

General Courtney Hodgeges, commander of the first army,
for the first time in the war, lost control of the situation.

December the 17th was the darkest day for American forces in the battle of the
Ardan.

The German offensive spread like an oil stain, engulfing more and more territory.

By noon, it became clear this was not a local diversion,
but a full-scale offensive.

At St. Vith, a key transport hub, the American defense was cracking.
Major General Robert Hasbrook, commander of the 7th Armored Division,
received orders to move immediately to aid encircled units.

But his division was scattered along a 30 km front.

“I need at least 12 hours to concentrate my forces,” Hasbro reported by radio.
“But I fear that in 12 hours there will be no one left to save.”

Indeed, the situation of the 422nd and 423rd regiments was becoming hopeless.
Surrounded in the forests near Shunberg,
the American soldiers were starving and freezing.

The Germans tightened the ring methodically using artillery and mortars.

Private Elmer Clerk of the 423rd Regiment wrote in his diary,
“Third day in encirclement.
No food, no ammunition.
We can’t evacuate the wounded.
The Germans shouted us to surrender.
Promise good treatment.
The boys are starting to crack.”

On December 19th, the resistance of the 422nd and 423rd regiments ended.
7,000 American soldiers surrendered.

The largest capitulation of US forces in Europe.

German propagandists immediately used the event
to boost their troops morale.

But not all American units panicked.

In the town of Bastauing, a vital road junction,
the 101st Airborne Division prepared for siege.

These paratroopers, veterans of Normandy and Operation Market Garden,
had no intention of surrendering without a fight.

Brigadier General Anthony McAuliffe, acting commander of the division,
received a German ultimatum:

“Honor demands that you surrender to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”

McAuliff’s reply became legendary.

“Nuts.”

Meanwhile, German Panzer divisions pressed forward.
Piper’s battle group reached the village of Stavalo,
only 10 km from a massive American fuel depot at Spa.

Had the SS captured it,
they would have had enough fuel to reach the Muse.

But here, the Germans met American ingenuity.

Lieutenant Colonel David Perigrawl’s engineer company
rigged every bridge on Piper’s route with explosives.

When German tanks approached Stavalo,
the Americans blew up the bridge over the Amblev River.

Piper was trapped.

Ahead, a destroyed bridge and American anti-tank guns.
Behind, other US units already launching counterattacks.

Ammunition and fuel were running out.

“We are in a position where every hour may be our last,”
Piper noted in his war diary.
“The Americans are proving much tougher opponents than we expected.”

By day end, it was clear the German advance was losing momentum.

Heroic resistance by isolated American garrisons,
destroyed bridges, and fuel shortages
were all slowing the German push.

On December 19th, 1944, at 10:30 a.m.,
the phone rang in the Third Army headquarters in Nancy.

General George Patton picked up
and heard the voice of the Supreme Commander.

“George, the situation in the Ardan is critical.
I need your army.”

Eisenhower explained succinctly.
The Germans had broken through 60 km.
Two US divisions were destroyed.
Bastonia was under siege.

“How long will it take you to turn your army north?” he asked.

“48 hours,” Patton replied without hesitation.
“Give me 48 hours and I’ll attack.”

Eisenhower paused.
What Patton was proposing seemed impossible.

The Third Army was deployed eastward,
preparing to cross the Sar River.

Now, it had to pivot 90°
and march 150 km north
in the middle of winter
on icy roads.

Any other general would have asked for a week to regroup.
Patton promised 48 hours.

“All right,” Eisenhower said.
“Do it.”

Patton hung up the receiver and turned to his staff.

Chief of Staff Major General Hugh Gaffy shook his head at the map.

“Boss, it’s impossible.
We’ve got 133,000 men, 800 tanks, 500 guns.
How can we move them in 2 days?”

Patton smiled.
“You haven’t yet seen what a real army can do.
You’re about to.”

For the next two hours, the Third Army headquarters
buzzed with feverish activity.

Planning officers drew up routes for hundreds of columns.
Communications officers organized radio nets.
Supply officers calculated fuel and ammunition needs.

At 1 p.m., Patton gathered his division commanders.

“Gentlemen,” he said,
“we face the toughest operation of the war.
We must turn the entire army north
and strike the Germans in 48 hours.

Who thinks this is impossible?”

No one raised a hand.

The commanders of the Third Army knew their old blood and guts.
When Patton made a promise, he kept it.

“Excellent,” Patton continued.
“The Fourth Armored Division moves to Arlon.
The 26th Infantry to Luxembourg,
the 80th Infantry to Merch.

The march begins today at 1800.
Questions?”

Major General Hugh Gaffy, commander of the Fourth Armored, raised his hand.

“Sir, what about supplies?
We’ll be cutting ourselves off from bases.”

“Supplies will come,” Patton replied firmly.
“I’ve arranged with the French.
They’re giving us all their depots.
Plus, army aviation will drop ammo from the air.”

At 1800, Patton’s Third Army began the fastest redeployment
in modern military history.

Across the frozen roads of France and Luxembourg
moved hundreds of columns of tanks, guns, and trucks.

133,000 soldiers marched toward destiny.

The night of December 20th was hellish for Patton soldiers.

Temperatures dropped to -15° C
and the roads became ice rinks.

Hundreds of columns moved in darkness,
guided only by blackout headlights.

Sergeant Mike O’Connor of the Fourth Armored Division later wrote to his wife:

“We marched all night on frozen roads.
Tanks skidded, trucks slid into ditches,
but nobody stopped.

Patton said 48 hours.
So 48 hours it will be.”

The logistical challenge was staggering.

The third army had 15,000 vehicles
from tanks to field kitchens.

All had to be moved 150 km
without losing combat effectiveness.

Colonel Walter Mueller, head of the army movement section,
devised a detailed plan.

Roads were divided into corridors.
Armored divisions took the main highways,
infantry the secondary roads,
artillery and support units the back roads.

Each column had a precise schedule.

Tanks 25 km/h on highways,
15 km/h on dirt roads.

Trucked infantry 30 km/h.
Artillery on tractors 20 km/h.

Stops only for refueling and maintenance.

French gendarmes directed traffic at intersections.
American military police controlled the main routes.
Engineer battalions cleared snow
and spread sand on icy stretches.

But the greatest challenge was concealment.

German air reconnaissance must not discover
the Third Army’s redeployment.

So movement took place only at night
with columns hiding in forests by day.

On December 20th at 1400,
the first units of the Fourth Armored Division
reached the area of Arlon,
only 30 km from Bastonia.

It was fantastically fast:
150 km in 20 hours.

Major General Gaffy immediately set up his command post
and radioed Patton.

“Sir, the vanguard is in place,
ready for battle.”

“Excellent, Hugh,” Patton replied.
“Now show the Germans what American speed really means.”

Meanwhile, the 26th Infantry Division of General Willard Paul
reached positions near Luxembourg City.

The 80th Infantry Division of General Horus McBride
assembled in the MCH area.

In 36 hours, Patton had moved 133,000 men
and 15,000 vehicles.

It was the fastest strategic redeployment of an army
in all of World War II.

German command had no idea
that an entire army was approaching from the south.

But Patton had no intention of stopping.

On December 21st at 0600,
he gave the order:

“We attack today.
No artillery preparation,
no probing attacks,
just forward
and tear their guts out.”

The Third Army prepared for the boldest counterattack
in its history.