A Story Worth Telling

By Catherine Ellerton

Moapa Valley Progress

Almost 70 years later, the sight and sound of over 3,000 planes coming in waves overhead is still clearly in the memory of Max Getz, local WWII veteran. At that time, the Battle for St. Lo in France was in full swing as the Allied troops fought their way through Northwest Europe.

On January 8, 1943, at the age of twenty, Getz was inducted into the military at Brigham City, Utah. He was assigned to the 823rd Tank Destroyers Battalion, Co. B, as a Cannoneer (one who loads the shells into the guns). The lone objective of the tank destroyer units was the destruction of hostile tanks.

After training at Camps Hood and Bowie in Texas Getz’s unit headed to England where they were stationed for further training at Hertford. They were assigned to the 30th Infantry Division, known as “Old Hickory.”

The group was scheduled to land in France only six days after D-Day. But after a snafu in orders and an extremely bad storm, the group landed at Omaha Beach on June 24, 1944; nearly two weeks later than scheduled.

One of the duties of the 823rd was to cover the engineers building bridges over the rivers to be crossed. The first river crossing was at the Vire River north of St. Jean-de-Daye. Some officers stated that this was the most trying experience in any part of the Campaign in France.

On to St. Lo: a vital communications center and strategic location for the German Army. It was July 1944. Here Getz and his unit awaited the air raid which turned out to be spectacular. Unfortunately, there was some unintentional bombing of friendly troops. Max remembers the carnage as the tanks came into the area and witnessed many shell-shocked infantrymen. This battle turned out to be a major victory for Allied Forces.

As they began to advance on to Mortain, France (the last German stronghold in France) in August of 1944, Getz recalls that General Patton came through on his way to St. Lo and took over their foxholes. The Germans were trying to cut him off. Patton was headed south and the unit went east toward Mortain.

As the battle grew, the 823rd TD Battalion occupied positions along a line from Euchen, Wurselen, and Bardenburg, Germany. Companies A, B, and C were shifted to whatever Infantry unit needed their help. Max remembers this was “one hell of a battle – the first big one he had been in.”

While waiting to cross the Roer River, the 823rd converted from a towed gun Battalion to a self-propelled basis with the M-10s. This battle was the most difficult battle in the entire European Campaign and it was stated, by some, to be the turning point in the war.

Max contracted yellow jaundice at Mortain in November of 1944 and was hospitalized in England for four months. He rejoined his unit in March, 1945.

The convoy had continued on through Aachen, Germany to Eupen, Belgium, and on to what became to be known as the “Battle of the Bulge” – fought from Dec. of 1944 through January of 1945.

The 823rd TD Battalion went to Birgdon, Holland in March of 1945, where they would cross the Rhine – the last important water barrier on the road to Berlin. The 823rd was re-attached to the XIX Corps and raced toward the Elbe River.

In a night shell attack on March 26, 1945, Getz jumped off his tank and went under it for safety. He was hit by a piece of shrapnel in his left thigh. At that point, the war ended for him.

For the next seven months, he was in the hospital. When he was finally released, the war was over. Max was sent to Fort Lewis, Washington, where he finally received a medical discharge.

For the next 47 years he was in construction work in the Cedar City Open Pit Iron Mines. When he retired in 1997, he and his wife of 49 years came to the Moapa Valley. They were familiar with the area have come through here to fish at Lake Mead.

Getz’s wife has passed on and Max is the veteran folks often see merrily rolling down Moapa Valley Blvd. in his motorized wheelchair.

I marveled at his story and asked how he and his comrades survived mentally. His answer was simple and is the same that all the veterans have told me: “We were just doing our job – what we were told to do.”