Charles Shotts

Charles Shotts Charles Fredrick Shotts (March 6,1924 to November 27, 2013) A Memorial Tribute to Dad, a WWII Hero Charles Fredrick Shotts (or just Dad to me) was always my hero. He always set the example. He was what I wanted to be when I grew up. I never really understood why, but in Gilchrist a town of rough logging men, Dad’s presence always inspired those around him. He was always soft spoken, but he was also respected by all that were in his presence. He was a man of few words, but when he spoke people listened. I knew from an early age that he was a war hero, and veteran of World War II, but did not hear him talk about the War until I was in the Army and stationed in Germany as a lieutenant and flight Platoon leader. I had not heard about the actions in combat he endured that shaped him into a leader at Gilchrist Timber Company, a pillar in his community, and a great man. I want to pay tribute to Dad by talking about his time in the Army and telling some of his war stories. Dad enlisted in the Army out of Oregon State College in 1944. He was 20 years old when he enrolled in the Army Specialized Training Program (ASTP) with Duty at Princeton University (where he met Mon at a USO dance, but that is another story). Prior to finishing the ASTP at Princeton (because of the rapid build-up of troops for the attack into France and Germany) he was assigned to I Company, 3rd Battalion, 415th Infantry Regiment of the 104th Infantry Division (the Timber Wolves). After some training at Camp Carson, he sailed across the Atlantic Ocean to support the Allied attack into Germany. He disembarked in Cherbourg, France on 7 September of 1944. Three months after the Normandy invasion. For the next seven months Dad either walked beside or rode a tank destroyer across Holland, Belgium, and Germany. He went as far east as Torgau, Germany on the Elbe River about 50 miles south of Berlin. He fought across Belgium and Holland under the first Canadian Army in the Battle of the Dikes, and entered Germany under the First Army, VII US Corps near the city of Aachen in early November 1944. By that time, Dad had endured almost two months of combat and advanced in rank from PVT to Technical Sergeant. As the 104th Division approached the German defensive positions along the Siegfried Line, Dad’s regiment encountered some of the heaviest fighting of the War. When I was stationed in Germany in 1989, I had the opportunity to tour the old battlegrounds where Dad fought some 45 years earlier. Dad and Mom paid a visit to see our new born Son, Riley. We planned a road trip, so with Dad by my side, I heard first-hand accounts, the highs and lows, of the time he spent in Germany as an infantry soldier in 1944 - 1945. He told many stories. Stories he had tucked away in the back of his mind and tried to forget, like the first time he shot a man, and the first time he had a fellow war buddy die in his arms. And he always grew silent when asked to account his participation during the liberation of the concentration camp near Nordhausen west of Berlin. He refused to talk about it. During the time we spent together in Germany the summer of 1989, he told his war stories in his own special way. Dad was always a story teller, and here is my attempt to recreate some of his favorite war stories. It was a cold winter in Germany; one month before what was later to be called the Battle of the Bulge in November 1944. On the 16thof November, a dark, very cold night T/Sgt Shotts maneuvered with his platoon across a small stream through enemy lines into the outskirts of the heavily defended town and industrial complex of Eschweiler. His platoon moved through the city over the night surprising German soldiers and taking them prisoner. Dad told me that night he was the coldest he had ever been because he had to wade through a waist deep stream in single digit temperatures as they started out on their mission. He also described a trip up a hill in dense fog where he believes his platoon walked uncontested through the German front line. At first light that morning he described “all hell breaking loose” as his platoon was quickly isolated behind German lines. He and his squad held out for a while in the basement of a building with their prisoners. “Well, the town was full of Germans. They were everywhere. We were in the basement of a building, and they started tossing grenades down the stairs, so I would catch ‘em and toss ‘em back up. I must have missed one because there was an explosion, and I was knocked out for a bit.” One of the grenades exploded near Dad, and broke his eardrum. But he fought on for several days more, before he and his buddy’s regained contact with others in his Regiment five days later on the 21st of November. He was evacuated for treatment and rejoined his platoon to find he was one of only a few in his platoon that survived the battle of Eschweiler. As senior man in his platoon, he was designated as the acting platoon leader (normally a job for a Lieutenant). By mid- December, his reconstituted platoon re-joined I company in the attack into Germany, T/Sgt Shotts now in the lead. Soon after rejoining I company, Dad was back in heavy combat repelling heavy German counter attacks near Duren Germany along the Ruhr River. On 16 December the Germans launched the Ardennes Offensive, later to be called the “Battle of the Bulge”. The citation for Dad’s Silver Star reads, “In the midst of the counter attack Company I and two platoons of tanks and tank destroyers arrived and relieved the pressure on Company K. Their advance had also been impeded by strafing and bombing from the German planes which were aloft near Birkesdorf. These reinforcing units overcame a number of machine gun emplacements and knocked out two self-propelled guns that had caused much damage to Company K. T/Sgt. Charles Shotts and Sgt. James O. Franklin of Company I fired their bazooka at a German tank fifty yards away and forced it to withdraw.” As Dad recalls the events of the day, “Well, I told the SGT (Franklin) to ‘shoot the tank’, but he was scared stiff. Everyone wanted to fall back. So I grabbed him and we went out in the street together, set up the bazooka right in front of the tank, and fired. The tank stopped, and backed away, and so did the one behind it. Can you believe that? Damd’est thing I ever saw.” As Dad told the story, smiling brightly, he had that twinkle in his eye that was always present when he told a good story. If you look at a battle Map of the “bulge” that occurred in the front lines during the German offensive, you will notice that the 104th Division Sector in VII Corps area under Hodges 1st Army was the part of the line that held in place as the Germans raced toward Paris in a futile effort to Break the spirit of the Allied forces. As we continued our drive across Germany in the summer of 1989, we passed many towns that Dad remembered, but the one place that sticks in my head was a field Between Paderborn and Kassel Germany. As we drove along the autobahn, Dad sighted a bunch of hay stacks. Six foot high piles of Hay lay across tripods that resembled bells scattered across a large field. Dad immediately asked us to pull over, so he could look at the field. We took the next autobahn exit and made our way in the car back to the field of haystacks. When we stopped, Dad got out of the car and started talking in an animated story-telling fashion. I’ll attempt to paraphrase. He said, “I remember one day as we were walking beside the tank destroyers’ we happened upon a field just like this one. I was leading the platoon. As we walked slowly through the field up to the first bale, a German soldier came out from behind the bale with his hands up. I almost shot him, but we took him prisoner. As we walked on, spreading out, another German soldier came out with his hands up, then another, from behind every hay bale in that field, and surrendered? Can you believe that? They all just surrendered right there in that field! They must have just been hiding behind those bales waiting to surrender. Damd’est thing I ever saw.” According to war chronicles Dad’s unit was in that area of Germany in April of 1945 as the 104th Division advanced rapidly through central Germany toward Berlin. I can only imagine what he was thinking as German soldiers just walked out behind hay bales and surrendered after the many long days of combat. During that same time, as Dad’s regiment fought side by side with the third Armor Division, they liberated the Mittelbau-Dora Concentration Camp. As we drove down the Autobahn, Mom asked Dad if he wanted to go to Nordhausen to see the Dora memorial. He immediately replied, “No.” We could all see in his eyes that some bitter memories were better off left in the back of his head. Now back in 1989, we were not able to drive behind the Iron Curtain into East Germany. We did not get to see the last battlefield where Dad’s 195 consecutive days of combat came to an end near Halle German in May of 1945. We drove as far west as Kassel near the East German Border in 1989. But sometime during our Journey across the terrain he re-called one last story. One afternoon, I asked him about the day of his commissioning. He was quiet for a minute, like he was not sure if he should tell the whole story. Then he began. He told me it was about one week after he had fought in his last combat action. His platoon had been resting and doing periodic reconnaissance (looking for any German resistance) when the rumor started to spread. The war in Europe was almost over. That same day the Battalion Commander, LTC Kelleher approached Dad and told him he was going to be discharged from the Army as a technical Sergeant… and commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant the next day. It was 7 May 1945. He was battlefield commissioned the next day (VE day) after almost six months of being an acting platoon leader in I Company across most of Germany; he was now officially the platoon leader. After discussing the details of time and place with Dad, he thought a few minutes, and here is what I remembering him saying, “Well, the officers from battalion and regiment did a short commissioning ceremony for me in the morning and then we all loaded into a jeeps. We drove for about an hour down some windy roads and across some rivers on makeshift bridges, and met up with some other officers from other units in a small town, I can’t remember the name. We parked our jeeps and walked across a larger river on another makeshift bridge, where we met up with some Russian Officers. They took us to a big palace with a courtyard and pulled out some vodka. We stood around and drank to Victory. (whispering in a joking fashion) just remember it was a secret mission, and I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about what happened during that trip.” I told Dad his secret was safe with me, and we both had a good laugh. I witnessed first-hand as I was growing up, the character of a man shaped by his past. Dad was a one of the greatest men that I have ever known. His actions and words defined the Greatest Generation of this and the last century. He was kind, and forgiving, and made everyone feel at ease, but he was also strong (inside and out). He was a generous man willing to stop and lend a helping hand to a stranger. He was a family man who made his entire family feel special. I know that he always made my wife, Tamara, feel like she was a one of his daughters, on the phone or in person over the 24 years my Family followed my assignments in the Army. He always treated her like she was his own daughter. Same goes for his two grandchildren, Riley and Chelsea. With or without words he always treated everyone with love and respect. I sure will miss him, but I hope to keep his spirit alive by continuing to follow his example to the end of my days. I know he has a special place in heaven between a quiet fishing stream full of trout and steelhead, and a lush green golf course with a view of snowcapped mountains. May God rest his soul. Christopher R. Shotts Lieutenant Colonel, US Army, Retired