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Gil and Johna Fuller wedding photo, circa 1945

Article by John Fuller

Four Combat Wounds, Three Invasions, Two Continents and a Beautiful Bride

Like many sons of World War II veterans, I grew up mostly in the dark about what happened to my dad during the war. Sure, I knew he was wounded several times and fell in love with mom in a field hospital in England. The above picture was certainly a cherished part of my youth.

Over time, and with the help of my sister and brother, I’ve learned a fuller story of my father’s wartime journey from the deserts of North Africa to the forests of western Germany. Please allow me to share the story of my personal hero, Captain Gilbert H. Fuller.

Dad was 1st Sgt. for his hometown Army National Guard unit in Ludlow, Vermont when war was declared in late 1941. In February of 1942, the National Guard was put on active-duty status and dad was selected for Infantry Officers’ Candidate School. Upon completion, he was assigned to the First Infantry Division. This was the first combat unit shipped to Europe, landing in Scotland, then later to England for more training.

In November 1942, the “Big Red One” became the first American unit to engage the Germans with a spearhead amphibious landing in North Africa. But before they got to the Germans, they had to battle their way through Vichy French troops and an Italian force.

Dad was wounded twice in North Africa going up against the German Wehrmacht under command of Field Marshall Erwin Rommel, whose nickname was “The Desert Fox.” His first wounds were sustained when he and his Jeep driver drove over a German land mine. The second time he sustained a shrapnel wound during the Battle of Kasserine Pass. This was the only time in World War II that the First Infantry Division, aka the “Big Red One,” had a questionable outcome in head-to-head combat with German forces.

After finally routing Rommel and his troops in North Africa, the “Fighting First” was sent to Sicily for their second spearhead invasion. This time, it was under General George S. Patton. Patton told Gens. Eisenhower and Bradley he would not command this now second amphibious invasion unless they gave him “those sons of bitches of the Big Red One.” Which of course they did.

Dad was wounded a third time. He was shot in the upper thigh by a high caliber round from a German fighter plane while leading the evacuation of the battalion regimental motor pool. For gallantry in action, he was awarded the Silver Star and a third Purple Heart. I often remember seeing the scar on his thigh from being shot by the aircraft round.

After the Big Red One’s victory in Sicily, Dad once told me they felt they had seen enough combat and were certain they would be sent back to the States to train other soldiers. That was not the case; instead, they headed to the south of England to train for their third (and highly secret) amphibious assault.

On June 6th, 1944, they were the driving force on the “first wave” landing at Omaha Beach in Normandy, France, to date the largest amphibious landing in the history of warfare. During the period of the film “Saving Private Ryan,” I listened to a radio commentator interview Capt. Gerry Eckenrod, a family friend. One of the questions asked was if Gerry thought the film depicted what really happened on D-Day. I will never forget Gerry’s response. He basically felt the film was somewhat accurate in detail but of course could never depict the smell of death nor the blood-stained surf along the beachhead. Gerry and Dad served in the same combat battalion throughout the war.

As history shows, Allied forces successfully liberated Normandy from the Nazis, but at a very high cost of lives. I remember standing by and watching Dad read to himself all the names of the fallen on a First Infantry monument erected on the cliffs above Omaha Beach. After a long and somber pause, he told me due to all that went on and confusion within the units, he never realized how many soldiers killed in action were part of his battalion. He assumed during fighting they were probably just separated and later assigned to other units. It was truly a very somber moment for Dad and me.

After stabilizing the beachhead, his unit marched toward another crucial battle with the Germans called “The St. Lo Breakthrough.” At St. Lo, his unit was pinned down and temporarily unable to advance. By this time, Dad was now a 1st Lt. and Executive Officer of G Rifle Company, 2nd Battalion of the 26th Regiment of the “Fighting First.”

It was there that his Company Commander, Captain Al Preston, was sprayed with bullets from a German machine gun pistol and evacuated to spend the remainder of the war at Walter Reed Hospital. Dad and Al were lifelong friends after the war.

Dad was then appointed Company Commander of G Company as they progressed through France, Belgium and up the Siegfried Line at the German border. At this point, after being awarded his second Bronze Star Medal with a V for Valor, Dad was promoted again. This time, he became Captain and took command of H Company, the heavy weapons unit for their battalion.

After enduring continuous fighting since D-Day at Normandy, they were ordered to invade German territory and take the first city in Germany to fall in battle since the days of Charlemagne centuries before. On Oct. 21, 1944, they took that symbolic city, Aachen, the same city Hitler claimed would be fought to the last man and last bullet to remain in German hands.

They became victorious after intense, door-to-door street fighting. Dad’s unit was crucial in the victory thanks to their “pin point” mortar fire as well as high caliber, extremely accurate machine gun squads.

Fame Finds Dad in Aachen

In addition to his highly efficient command techniques, Dad also became the unofficial news press spokesperson for the wire services. One of the reporters, Hal Boyle, a Pulitzer Prize-winning correspondent, dubbed Dad “The Unofficial Mayor of Aachen” in a wire services article published nationwide.

Thus far, The Big Red One had spearheaded three separate D-Day invasions and countless victorious ground assaults. Then, after their victory at Aachen, General Eisenhower and General Bradley dispatched the division to the Hurtgen Forest, a battle site just south of Aachen. This dense forest, heavily fortified by the Germans, had been a nightmare for American forces. Prior to First Infantry Division’s arrival, three American infantry divisions had been brutally repelled.

On November 16th, 1944, the “Fighting First” started their assaults into the Hurtgen Forest. The troops suffered major casualties after gaining only a few hundred yards. The second day was even worse, as Dad was severely injured by a “tree burst” which rained down shrapnel and wood splinters from German 88mm cannons specifically aimed at the crest of trees in targeted areas.

During the prolonged fighting, one of Dad’s men, PFC Francis X. McGraw, played a key role in repelling German forces. This allowed American forces to regroup, thus saving countless soldiers. McGraw was posthumously awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for bravery. Years later, as a civilian, I listened to a very moving Memorial Day speech Dad gave about the supreme sacrifice paid by PFC McGraw.

The injuries Dad suffered in the Hurtgen Forest left him temporarily paralyzed from the waist down. He was rushed to a field medical station to be stabilized and then evacuated to a hospital for surgery. Years later, Capt. Eckenrod told me he came across Dad on a gurney at the field medical station. Dad told Gerry not to worry because “it was just a lucky shot” by the Germans. I never have been able to comprehend how a major wound of that nature would be called a lucky shot.

Saved by the Providence of God

One last item about dad in the Hurtgen Forest: He told me that as he lay there on a Jeep, in a presumed safe area waiting to be moved to a hospital, an inner voice told him to get off that Jeep. Still partially paralyzed, he managed to roll off and crawl some distance away. Within minutes, that Jeep took a direct artillery hit. He knew it had to be the Providence of God that saved his life at that moment.

Many years later, I had the privilege of walking with Dad into the Hurtgen Forest. There was a huge sign as you enter which stated, in essence, don’t get off the trail because live munitions are still present. He told me he wanted to find the earthen command bunker where he was wounded. I said it would be impossible so many years later because there would not be any remains. Well, knowing Dad and his persistence, he found what remained of the command bunker. We found scraps of burlap sandbags and splintered beams that supported the roof of the bunker.

General Hospital Love Story

Dad was sent from the first aid station to a field hospital in France for a time, before heading to the 82nd Army General Hospital in Pembroke, Wales, for additional neurosurgery and shrapnel removal.

It was in that hospital that he met his soon-to-be bride, and my soon-to-be mother, 1st Lt. Registered Nurse Johna Ferguson of Bakersfield, Missouri. Mom was one of the nurses on his ward.

She once told me the nursing staff disliked attending to officers of the Big Red One because of their loud, boisterous, self-centered arrogance. And, she said, Dad was no exception! But in time they fell in love and were married at a church in the area. The hospital chief of staff was the best man.

After the marriage, the chief of staff arranged for dad to be transferred from the First Infantry Division to the Pentagon for a cushy desk job. Dad would have no part of that!

Unexpected Hospital ‘Discharge’

Instead of accepting the Pentagon transfer, Dad went AWOL from the hospital and somehow worked his way across the English Channel and back toward his beloved company, which was still in combat.

Along the way, he met up with his nephew, David Williams, whose unit was still mopping up operations from the Battle of the Bulge. After deciding to spend the night with David and his unit, an officer informed Dad they had an officer’s tent prepared for him. Dad’s response was: “By God, if I can fight with enlisted men, I sure as hell can sleep with them!” This was told to me and my wife, Elva, by Cousin David while visiting him in 2005.

Dad found his company near the Czech border and resumed his position as Company Commander for the final month of combat before Germany surrendered. After combat, his company liberated a German concentration camp in that area.

The war in Europe ended on May 8, 1945, and Dad was finally able to return to the U.S. in August 1945 to meet up with Mom at Gram’s and Gramps home in Ludlow.

Mom was five months’ pregnant with me (I had been conceived during their London honeymoon), and I officially arrived Dec. 11, 1945, the day my dad was separated from active duty.

I once read an interview given by Col. Dan, Dad’s battalion commander, sometime after he retired as a two-star Major General. The interviewer asked about pictures and why more medals were not given out during World War II. His reply was something like, “Who had time to take pictures or do paperwork for medals when you were fighting just to stay alive and possibly gain a few yards in a day?”

Nonetheless, Dad left the service with four Purple Hearts, two Bronze Stars (including one with a V for Valor), a Silver Star and a Combat Infantryman’s Badge.

Writer, and proud son, John Fuller was a US Army Spec 5 with headquarters of the Fourth Armored Division in Germany in the 1960s.