Top Photo: American soldiers execute SS camp guards who have been lined up against a wall during the liberation of the Dachau concentration camp. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, courtesy of National Archives and Records Administration, College Park
Commemorations of victory celebrations in World War II, including V-E Day on May 8 and V-J Day on August 15, usually begin with the public jubilation that erupted in the cities of the victors, but they quickly turn to reflections on the tremendous sacrifices the effort required to defeat the Axis powers.
In the popular memory of the war, a misperception has emerged—in part due to the extraordinary efforts of esteemed scholars such as Stephen Ambrose to effectively capture the experiences of the war—of soldiers training together, enduring the crucible of combat together, then returning home with the same group of “buddies” to resume their lives and, in later years, reminisce about their experiences.
While this may have been true for some units, most famously the Company E, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, of the US Army’s 101st Airborne Division, or US Marine units in the Pacific, it was not the case for most ground combat units in the war. Men who mobilized in existing National Guard units, for instance, were often scattered to the wind as experienced or overage men transferred out and new “selectees” transferred in.
And the sustained combat typical of the European theater often inflicted severe casualties on units, especially those in the Mediterranean who battled for years without relief, to the point that units would be “flushed out” with new personnel several times over.
As Alex Kershaw has argued, “celebrated units such as the 101st Airborne” dominated both headlines and the popular memory of the war with their victories in Normandy and the Bulge, but “the disasters and bloody attrition of Italy and the Vosges did not square with the more reassuring narrative of inevitable victory.”1
This was the case for Company I of the 157th Infantry, in the famed 45th Infantry “Thunderbird” Division. Originally a National Guard unit from Burlington, a small farming community on the plains of eastern Colorado, Company I mobilized at roughly half strength, lost many of its original members to transfers to other branches, including airborne units and the US Army Air Corps, and then endured almost two years of continuous combat, from initial commitment in the invasion of Sicily in 1943 to being the first company-sized unit to reach the horrific concentration camp at Dachau in April 1945.
When the company came ashore in Sicily in July 1943, most of the platoon sergeants were still original members of the company, but by February 1944, after the unit’s virtual destruction repelling a German counterattack against the beachhead at Anzio, the company had to be rebuilt almost from scratch. In January 1945, during the German Nordwind offensive in Alsace, the company was again cut off and destroyed near Reipertswiller, with only two men in the entire 3rd Battalion surviving the battle, necessitating another rebuild.
Few of the men who entered Dachau in April had been with the company for more than three months, and only a handful of the men who mobilized with the company in 1940 were still in uniform when the war ended. It is a testament to the Army’s WWII-era training and replacement policies that the unit survived the war and continued to perform as effectively as it did, but any narrative of the company would suffer from a lack of primary group cohesion within the original cohort, making for a less interesting, albeit more accurate, story.
Roots in Burlington, Colorado
In the mid-1930s, the high plains were in the midst of a global economic depression that left many farm boys eager to supplement their earnings by any available means. The National Guard company in Burlington attracted men from both the town and the surrounding communities in eastern Colorado and western Kansas.
Once a month, they gathered at the “new” armory, built in 1924, to practice close order drill, attend classes on weapons familiarization, and conduct training on a variety of topics. On August 31, 1940, President Franklin Roosevelt mobilized four National Guard divisions, including the 45th, into federal service for 12 months.2
The division, comprised of units from Oklahoma, Colorado, New Mexico, and Arizona, spent a year training, gaining valuable experience for the existing members, and providing an organizational framework for men mobilized under the Selective Training and Service Act of 1940.
On September 16, the men reported to their local armories where they received equipment, much of it of World War I vintage, completed administrative tasks, and suffered through medical examinations, which included immunizations updates.3
In Burlington, Company I inducted 52 men into federal service. The normal strength of an infantry company was 187 men, so even if all 52 men remained, the Guardsmen would have comprised only 28 percent of a full-strength company.
Provisions were already in place for men below the rank of captain with dependents to resign, and for the discharge of all men under 18, which further depleted this number.4 As the division moved by rail—first to Fort Sill, near Lawton, Oklahoma, then, in February 1941, to Camp Barkeley, outside of Abilene, Texas—more men left the company, either because they were overage (initially defined as over 28) or through transfer to other branches, with the Army Air Corps among the more popular.
Men who earned promotion to noncommissioned officer rank, but for whom there were no vacancies in Company I, found themselves reassigned to other companies in the division. Men selected for Officer Candidate School at Fort Benning, Georgia, usually reported to other units after graduation.5
During 1941, the unit remained near half strength but participated in the grueling Louisiana Maneuvers, where it generally gave a good account of itself.6 By the end of December 1941, only 22 of the original 52 inductees remained in the company, and they now comprised less than 25 percent of the unit.
However, 14 of the 18 noncommissioned officers in the company were from the initial group, including several who had advanced from the rank of private, preserving the ties to the prewar unit and strengthening unit cohesion.
The division then transferred to Fort Devens, Massachusetts, and conducted amphibious training at Camp Edwards on Cape Cod while receiving an infusion of new men, mostly from the eastern seaboard.7 The shift to Fort Devens marked the beginning of a period of rapid transfers for the 45th that included moves to Pine Camp (now Fort Drum), New York, in November 1942; Camp Pickett, Virginia, in January 1943; and finally Camp Patrick Henry, near Norfolk, in May.
At these stops, the division trained in both amphibious and mountain warfare.8 On June 10, 1943, the 45th embarked for the Mediterranean theater and a final period of workups in North Africa in preparation for Operation Husky, the amphibious invasion of Sicily. By the end of June, only 10 of 52 original members remained, and they now comprised less than 5 percent of the full-strength unit. Still, seven of 22 noncommissioned officers were prewar men.
Destruction in Italy
On July 10, the company landed on Sicily and soon suffered its first casualties. On July 14, near Licodia, Corporal William Hogate was the first original member of the company to be killed in action. Hogate had transferred to the 82nd Airborne Division during training, but now fate placed his unit and the 45th in the same sector on Sicily.
The units were so close that William’s brother George, still in Company I, was able to participate in the retrieval of his body.9 On August 14, the front page of the Burlington Call announced his death, and today, the Veterans of Foreign Wars post in Burlington is named for William Hogate.10
From Sicily, the company moved to the mainland, backstopping the landings at Salerno and fighting its way inland towards the German winter line. On September 13, near Salerno, Germans captured Lieutenant Gene Senti, an original member of the company, and held him for 27 days before he was able to escape.
Senti’s National Guard experience was undoubtedly a factor in his career—he joined Company I when he was only 15.11 Two other original members were not as lucky as Senti. On November 12, near Venafro, a single German shell killed Sergeant George Kenefake and wounded Sergeant Wilbur Youtsey, both original members of the company.
After recovering from his wounds, Youtsey returned to his unit, only to be killed in the breakout from Anzio on May 30, 1944. The Burlington Call eulogized both men on the front page.12
Defending the Anzio beachhead resulted in the first destruction of Company I but also proved to be its finest moment. On February 15, 1944, German forces launched a counterattack designed to split the Allied-controlled area in two and drive the attackers into the sea.
The Germans aimed their counterattack at one of the few significant landmarks on the almost featureless beachhead—a bridge over an intersecting road and railway that became known to veterans as simply “The Overpass.”
On the night of February 16, division headquarters ordered Company I to defend this vital feature. For five days, the defenders endured ceaseless barrages and numerous combined infantry and armored force assaults with minimal resupply but held their ground.
For his efforts, First Sergeant Willard Cody, who mobilized with Company I as a private in 1940 and later led a platoon in Germany as a First Lieutenant, received one of two Legion of Merit awards presented to men from Company I, and the survivors earned the highest unit honor, the Distinguished Unit Citation.
On October 5, the Burlington Record reproduced the full text of the citation under a large headline in for the proud folks back home.13 The citation read, in part:
Despite heavy enemy fire and constant enemy-pressure, exposure to inclement weather, and, at times, insufficient water, rations and ammunition, the officers and men of Company I held their positions to eliminate a threat to the solidarity of the beachhead.
After the battle, Company I needed over 150 replacements to bring it back up to its full strength of 187 men.14
Units on either flank of Company I also had a rough time. In Company E, only two men of an original strength of over 100 survived the battle uninjured. One was Technical Sergeant Leon Siehr, an original member of the company.
After becoming separated from his unit, Siehr fought on for several days alongside a British unit sent to relieve the 157th before returning to his unit in a bivouac area.15 Siehr’s good fortune ran out several months later when he too died during the breakout from the beachhead on May 28, the fourth original member of Company I to lose his life in combat.
Siehr’s obituary listed him as one of only six of the original men remaining with the company at the time, two of whom were still in Italy, two others who had been evacuated to the States, and Siehr and Youtsey, who had been killed.16
If the information is accurate, after almost one year of combat, the few remaining original members of the company would have all been either transferred, wounded, or killed in combat, severing the ties between the unit and its roots. In the last surviving company roster, for December 1943, only nine of the original 52 members were still with Company I.17
Sgt. Leon M. Siehr’s Grave at Fairview Cemetery.
Liberation of Dachau
The numbers of original men in Company I continued to decline, especially after Germans surrounded and virtually annihilated the unit in a counterattack near the Alsatian village of Reipertswiller in January 1945.
In the entire battalion, only two soldiers, both from Company I, returned safely to American lines.18 Again the entire company had to be rebuilt from replacements and transfers from other units.
Only a handful of the original members who had been home on furlough rejoined the 45th for its final drive into Germany. In late April, as German resistance collapsed, division headquarters assigned the 3rd Battalion of the 157th Infantry to a sector containing the concentration camp at Dachau.
Initially, Companies K and L took the lead, but when they encountered resistance in the village of Dachau, Company I moved to the front and entered the camp. The sights and smells encountered there made a lasting impression on the men and contributed to a brief breakdown of discipline, when soldiers opened fire on a group of captured SS guards.
The men killed at least 17 before officers could restore order.19 When the war in Europe finally ended the following week, the 45th Division prepared for movement to the Pacific but was still in France when news of the Japanese surrender arrived. Instead of going to fight the Japanese, the Thunderbirds were instead finally headed home.
Upon reaching Boston, the men received furloughs while the headquarters reported to Camp Bowie, Texas. When the War Department officially inactivated the unit at Camp Bowie on December 3, 1945, the regimental adjutant, Lieutenant Joe Meis, an original member of Company I from Burlington, delivered the final inactivation papers.
Lt. Gen. Alexander M. Patch, C.G., 7th Army, inspecting 1st Platoon, Co I, (157) Infantry. September 28, 1944. Behind Gen. Patch is Lt. Van T. Barfoot, holder of the Congressional Medal of Honor, and Maj. Gen. William W. Eagles, C.G., 45th Division.” 45th Division Command Post. Photo by Katz, 163rd Signal Photo Company. National Archives. 45thdivision.org
The experiences of the original members of Company I demonstrate that a stable corps of personnel was a rarity in most Army infantry units during World War II. Promotion, transfers, and especially attrition wore units down, and new men arrived and had to be quickly integrated before the next operation.
These new levies formed their own bonds and effectively battled the Nazis to the final liberation of Europe, but the prewar bonds established in peacetime and early mobilization training did not endure, at least not in Company I.
Though the 52 men inducted with Company I in 1940 rendered excellent service, their “band of brothers” did not endure much past their first months in combat. Today, the largest gathering of Company I veterans is in Fairview Cemetery, outside of Burlington, where 12 of the original members are buried.
Over the course of the war, 90 percent of the men who went overseas with the 45th Division were killed, wounded, or captured, and the division received replacements that numbered seven times its initial strength.20 It was this steady flow of trained volunteers and selectees who filled the empty places and sustained the unit, enabling it to help achieve the final victory in Europe.
Alex Kershaw, The Liberator: One World War II Soldier’s 500-Day Odyssey from the Beaches of Sicily to the Gates of Dachau. (New York: Crown, 2012), 329.
Leo V. Bishop, Frank J. Glasgow and George A. Fisher, editors, The Fighting Forty-Fifth: The Combat Report of an Infantry Division. (Baton Rouge, LA: Army and Navy Publishing Co., 1946), 6.
Denver Post, Sep. 16, 1940, pp. 1, 6.
Denver Post, Sep. 16, 1940, 6.
Emajean Buechner, Sparks: The Combat Diary of a Battalion Commander (Rifle) WWII. (Metairie, LA: Thunderbird Press, 1991) 59.
Flint Whitlock, The Rock of Anzio from Sicily to Dachau: A History of the U.S. 45th Infantry Division. (Boulder: Westview Press, 1998) 24.
Buechner, Sparks, 61; Whitlock, The Rock of Anzio, 26.
Buechner, Sparks, 60.
Robert Franklin, Medic!: How I Fought World War II with Morphine, Sulfa and Iodine Swabs, (Lincoln, University of Nebraska Press, 2006) 56. “Doc” Franklin was a medic assigned to I Company just before the invasion of Sicily. His memoir is the definitive history of Company I’s time in combat.
The Burlington Call, Aug. 19, 1943; https://www.facebook.com/people/VFW-Post-6491/100083366145272/ accessed on Apr. 17, 2025.
The Burlington Call, Nov. 4, 1943
The Burlington Record, Jun. 22, 1944.
The 157th Infantry Regiment, History of the 157th Infantry Regiment (Rifle): 4 June ’43 – 8 May’45 (Baton Rouge: Army and Navy Publishing Company, 1946) 182-3; The Burlington Record, Oct. 5, 1944.
Franklin, Medic!, 101.
Bishop, et al., The Fighting Forty-Fifth, 77. The other man was the company commander, Capt. Felix Sparks, the subject of Kershaw’s The Liberator.
The Burlington Record, Jun. 29, 1944.
Pay Roll of Company I, 157th Infantry for Month of December, 1943. National Personnel Records Center. Records from 1944 and 45 were destroyed in a fire at the NPRC on 12 July 1973.
Buechner, Sparks, 108; “The 157th Infantry Regiment,” 135-6.
Kershaw, The Liberator, 288.
Kershaw, The Liberator, 329.
Suggested Readings:
Contributor
Chris Rein, PhD
Dr. Chris Rein is the senior historian at Headquarters, U.S. Air Forces Europe/Air Forces Africa at Ramstein Air Base, Germany.
Throughout our history, Americans have repeatedly beaten long odds, inspiring generations by accomplishing the impossible.
American military history in particular offers countless examples of men standing firm against overwhelming enemies, triumphing when all logic tells us they should fail. We as a nation have largely forgotten too many of our heroes—most of us know nothing of Nicholas Biddle, Dan Daly, Littleton Waller, or Philip Kulbes, among many others.
These great men deserve to be remembered, and foremost among them stands Major-General Nathanael Greene, a little-remembered leader of the American Revolution.
Greene, always outnumbered and continually out of supply, spent a year fighting General Cornwallis and lost every battle. But every American loss, carefully planned and managed, drained the British of irreplaceable men and materiel—a strategy Greene summarized as “We fight, get beat, rise, and fight again”—and ultimately forced Cornwallis to retreat to Yorktown.
By the summer of 1780, the Americans faced a very bleak military situation. The British held New York, Savannah, and Charleston. Major-General Sir Henry Clinton had just invaded South Carolina, quickly capturing Georgetown, Cheraw, Camden, Ninety-Six, and Augusta, and defeating the Continentals at Waxhaws. And in the three years since Saratoga, the American army had not defeated British Regulars in any major battles.
In mid-August 1780, Major-General Charles Cornwallis sealed British dominance in the South with his crushing victory at the Battle of Camden. In this battle, 1,500 British Regulars and 600 Loyalist militia defeated a 4,000 man Continental army commanded by Major-General Horatio Gates, the hero of Saratoga.
The Americans lost at least 240 killed, another 700 seriously wounded, hundreds of deserters, and lost a further thousand as prisoners, as well losing all their artillery, wagons, baggage, and horses. Washington relieved Gates of command, appointing Major-General Nathanael Greene to command the remnants of the American army in the Southern theater.
Engraving of a scene from the Battle of Camden, during the Revolutionary War, inAugust 1780. From a painting by Alonzo Chappel. (PhotoQuest/Getty Images)
When Greene joined his army at the North–South Carolina border in December 1780, he found he had only about 1,500 men fit for duty, most of whom lacked ammunition and food. Cornwallis’ 6,000 man army, pursuing the shattered remnants of the American army, encamped just 60 miles south of the Americans.
Washington had reinforcements marching to join Greene and the latter, recognizing he could not supply the few men he had, much less a larger body, made a bold move—he dispatched one-third of his army, commanded by Brigadier-General Daniel Morgan, to the southwest while Greene led the rest of the army to the southeast.
Most of his contemporaries, both British and American, saw this decision as a major blunder—conventional military thinking warns never to divide your forces in the face of a numerically superior enemy.
Greene made this decision in part to relieve his own supply crisis. Though supplies might be on the way, it would be weeks before relief would arrive in meaningful volume, and the Americans had already exhausted all the locally available resources—they had to move on.
By separating his force and keeping them in motion, Greene believed his two smaller forces might find enough food to sustain them day-by-day because they’d be making much smaller demands on the areas through which they marched.
Painting of Nathanael Greene (August 7, 1742 – June 19, 1786) by Charles Willson Peale. (Bildagentur-online/Universal Images Group via Getty Images)
But Greene chose to divide his army not simply to alleviate his own supply problems, but to exacerbate supply problems for Cornwallis. By dividing his command into two very small forces, Greene believed each could move far more quickly than the larger British army, and thus both of his small groups could stay ahead of any pursuing British force.
If Cornwallis over-confidently divided his own army to chase both American forces, Greene would have the two elements of his army draw the British units ever further apart, extending Cornwallis’ supply lines through the hostile Carolina backcountry, where Patriot militias could continually harass British supply convoys, and Greene’s own forces would clear the area of all local supplies.
If Cornwallis moved his entire force after either element of Greene’s divided army, the pursued wing would simply out-run the British while the other wing would devastate the long British supply lines.
Greene’s plan worked to perfection. On December 21, 1780, Morgan left Greene’s army at Charlotte, moving 6,000 men to the southwest. Two weeks later, on January 2, 1781, Cornwallis divided his command, dispatching Lieutenant-Colonel Banastre Tarleton to pursue Morgan while he shadowed Greene.
Over the next two weeks, Morgan repeatedly withdrew, always keeping rivers between his men and the pursuing British and drawing Tarleton ever further from Cornwallis. On January 17, Morgan decided to engage the British at Hannah’s Cowpens and destroyed Tarleton’s command.
An engraving depicting American military officer William Washington and British military officer Banastre Tarleton engaged in a sword fight, both on horseback, on the Green River Road during the Battle of Cowpens, in the American Revolutionary War, at Cowpens, South Carolina, January 17, 1781. (Kean Collection/Archive Photos/Getty Images)
An engraving depicting the Battle of Cowpens on January 17, 1781, during the American Revolutionary War. (Prisma/UIG/Getty Images)
Cornwallis turned what remained of his command west, racing to catch and destroy Morgan before Greene could intervene. The British burned their own wagons to speed their movement, but to no avail. Greene and Morgan re-united and withdrew into North Carolina, drawing Cornwallis ever further from his base of supplies.
When Cornwallis followed the Americans into North Carolina, Greene once again divided his force, sending Colonel Otho Williams to harass the British, who now suffered from ever-increasing logistical problems. On February 22, facing critical supply problems, Cornwallis abandoned his pursuit and began again marching south towards British-controlled territories.
Greene responded by also marching south, drawing close enough to tempt Cornwallis into battle. On March 15, 1781, Cornwallis rose to the challenge, attacking the Americans at Guilford Courthouse.
The British won a tactical victory, but lost men and supplies they could not replace. For the next few weeks, Greene shadowed Cornwallis’ army at a safe distance, threatening the fragile British supply lines.
He lost more than a dozen battles as he drew the British out of the Carolinas, but weakened his enemies with every encounter, a strategy Greene summarized when we wrote, “We fight, get beat, rise, and fight again.”
By late April 1781, Cornwallis led his army out of the Carolinas on an urgent march north towards Yorktown, where he hoped finally to re-supply his battered army. And, as I suspect you know, Washington and de la Fayette trapped Cornwallis at Yorktown, where his lack of supplies finally compelled Cornwallis to surrender his army.
“Surrender of Lord Cornwallis” painting by John Trumbull depicting the surrender of the British army Cornwallis’ command at Yorktown, Virginia, on October 19, 1781, to the American and French forces under the command of George Washington.
American armies actually lost most of the major engagements of the Revolutionary War—Bunker Hill, Quebec, Brooklyn, Kip’s Bay, White Plains, Germantown, Brandywine, Savannah, Charleston, and more.
But men like Nathanael Greene illustrate why the Americans ultimately succeeded, despite repeated failures. He recognized his central weakness—he commanded a small army constantly struggling to supply itself—and turned that weakness into a decisive strength.
Greene’s dogged resilience typified the men who won the Revolution, in the process forging the new nation.
David Stewart currently serves as a Faculty Fellow at the Center for Military History and Strategy at Hillsdale College, where he has taught since 1993. He received his Ph.D. from Ohio State and has published on a variety of topics relating to eighteenth-century military history.
A lot of people suggest that the Stuart tanks were under powered for World War II. While this may be true when compared to tanks like the Panzer IV, the platform was still able to bring significant firepower to the battlefield in the form of the M8 Howitzer Motor Carriage.
The M8 Howitzer Motor Carriage was a self-propelled howitzer vehicle used by the United States Army. Built on the M5 Stuart light tank chassis, the M8 mounted a 75mm howitzer in an open-topped turret configuration.
Similar to the M7 Priest used to support armored units, the M8 Howitzer was intended to provide mobile indirect fire support in mechanized cavalry reconnaissance squadrons. Fast-moving recon units couldn’t wait for towed artillery to catch up and deploy. When these units called for artillery support, they needed it right now.
The Cadillac Division of General Motors built nearly 1,800 M8 Howitzers by the end of the war. Crews took these motor carriages into battle across Europe and on many islands of the Pacific Campaign. While they lacked the “oomph” of the larger 105mm guns found on the Priest, the M8 could deliver critical firepower support to units probing enemy defenses.
Development from M3 Stuart Experiments
Initial attempts to create a self-propelled howitzer on a light tank chassis began with the T18 Howitzer Motor Carriage in late 1941. Envisioned as a self-propelled gun to provide close support, the T18 combined an M3 Stuart chassis with a 75mm pack howitzer in a fixed forward position. The howitzer mount was designed using the M3 Lee medium tank’s 75mm gun mount as inspiration.
However, the configuration proved unworkable. The gun placement far forward made the vehicle nose-heavy and prone to tipping during movement over rough terrain. The fighting compartment was cramped, and the crew had inadequate protection. The project was canceled, and the prototypes were destroyed after the war.
Keeping with the concept, engineers moved to the newer M5 Stuart chassis for the T41 project. The M5 featured twin Cadillac V8 automobile engines producing some 220 horsepower.
These more conventional engines replaced the radial aircraft engines used in the M3. Importantly, the Cadillac V8 engines were paired with automatic Hydra-Matic transmissions that made them easy to drive and easy for new crewmen to learn.
The M5 chassis also incorporated a raised rear engine deck, improved sloped armor on the glacis plate, and a more spacious fighting compartment. But the T41 still had a nose-heavy problem. Additional testing and revisions moved the gun into a better position, but the competing T47 project’s approach is what won the contract for Cadillac.
Instead of a fixed fighting compartment, engineers designed the T47 with a manually rotated, open-topped turret that could traverse a full 360 degrees. This turret configuration solved multiple problems simultaneously.
It distributed weight more evenly across the chassis. It provided far better crew protection than fixed mounts. It gave tactical flexibility — the crew could engage targets in any direction without repositioning the entire vehicle. After successful testing of the T47 mockup, the design was designated T17E1 HMC and ordered into production as the 75mm Howitzer Motor Carriage M8.
Design Changes from M5 Light Tank
The M8’s hull was essentially the M5 Stuart with specific modifications to fit the howitzer. The forward hull-mounted Browning M1919A4 .30-caliber machine gun was deleted.
This created additional interior space for ammunition storage — critically important since the 75mm rounds were substantially larger than the 37mm ammunition carried by standard Stuart tanks.
The driver and assistant driver compartment hatches, originally located on the top of the hull, had to be relocated to the glacis plate because the larger turret ring blocked their original positions. These new hinged plates could be rotated upward for visibility or lowered to button up for protection.
The turret was fabricated from cast steel and was open-topped to help vent gun gases and reduce weight. The turret front measured 1.5” thick with rounded surfaces. The sides and rear were a little thinner at 1” thick. This turret was considerably larger than the M5’s to accommodate the howitzer’s recoil mechanism and provide working space for the crew.
75mm Howitzer Gun
The M8’s primary armament was the 75mm howitzer mounted in the M7 mount. Early production vehicles received the 75mm Howitzer M2, an adaptation of the M1 Pack Howitzer. Later-production M8’s were equipped with the 75mm Howitzer M3.
Maximum firing range reached approximately 8,800 meters (~5.5 miles). The howitzer was relatively low velocity, designed for high-angle indirect fire rather than flat-trajectory direct fire. The gun had a good range of elevation: plus 40 degrees up and minus 20 degrees down. This elevation range proved particularly valuable in mountainous terrain.
A total of 46 rounds of 75mm rounds could be distributed throughout the vehicle. Six of these were “ready” rounds positioned between the driver and assistant driver positions for immediate access.
The most common ammunition types were the M48 high explosive shell and the M89 white phosphorus shell. The M48 HE round was the standard anti-personnel and general-purpose projectile.
The M8 could also fire the M66 HEAT round, which could penetrate 3” of armor plate, giving limited anti-tank capability when necessary, though this was not the vehicle’s primary role.
Secondary Armament
Unlike the standard M5 light tank, the M8 featured no coaxial machine gun. The only vehicle-mounted machine gun was a Browning M2HB .50-caliber heavy machine gun positioned on the right rear corner of the turret. This weapon had 400 rounds of ammunition. The .50 caliber’s mounting provided generous traverse and elevation, and its heavy punch made it effective against a wide range of targets.
For personal defense, crew members carried individual weapons. The driver was often issued a Thompson submachine gun or M3 grease gun — useful in the close confines of the driver’s position and for dismounted combat if needed. The other three crew members (commander, gunner, and assistant driver/loader) were typically equipped with M1 carbines.
Speed and Operational Range
The M8 weighed approximately 18 tons in combat configuration. Maximum road speed was roughly 36 miles per hour. This was somewhat slower than the M5 Stuart it was based on, due to the increased weight of the larger turret and ammunition load. However, it remained highly mobile compared to medium tanks or towed artillery. This made it great over the beach and in rough terrain.
Operational range was approximately 160 kilometers (100 miles) before it needed to find a gas station. Units frequently carried extra fuel in jerrycans.
Italian Campaign and Normandy Operations
The Howitzer Motor Carriage M8 first saw its combat in 1943 during the Italian Campaign. Italy’s mountainous terrain was extremely challenging for conventional armor. The M4 Sherman medium tank, though effective, struggled with the steep slopes and narrow mountain roads.
At roughly half the Sherman’s weight, the M8 could navigate terrain where heavier vehicles bogged down. Its high-angle fire capability was perfectly matched to mountain warfare where targets were often on hillsides above or below the firing position.
In France following the Normandy invasion, M8’s equipped the assault gun troops of numerous cavalry reconnaissance squadrons. During Operation Cobra and the subsequent breakout from the Normandy hedgerows, the cavalry squadrons played crucial roles in exploiting penetrations and screening the flanks of advancing armored divisions.
Pacific Theater Employment
The M8 also served in the Pacific Theater. Though in smaller numbers than in Europe, they proved every bit as effective. Jungle trails were narrow. Amphibious operations required relatively lightweight vehicles that could be landed quickly.
White phosphorus rounds were particularly effective against bunkers, as the burning phosphorus would penetrate openings and make positions untenable.
Replacement by M4 Sherman 105mm Assault Gun
Production of the M8 ended in January 1944 after 1,778 vehicles were manufactured. The decision to halt production came as more capable systems became available. The primary replacement was the M4 Sherman medium tank mounting the 105mm M4 howitzer, designated the M4 (105) or assault gun version of the Sherman.
The transition from M8 to Shermans began in early 1944 as production of the latter ramped up. However, M8’s already in service continued to be used through the end of the war.
Post-War Service with French Forces in Indochina
After World War II, the United States provided M8’s to several allied nations. France received M8 vehicles during and after the war. The French Army deployed these M8’s to Indochina as part of the French Expeditionary Corps during the First Indochina War from 1946 to 1954.
In Indochina, the M8 found a role similar to its Pacific service in World War II. French forces faced an insurgency operating from jungle bases and fortified villages. The M8’s mobility allowed it to support mobile operations and convoy escort missions.
The M8 remained in French service until the early 1960s, seeing action in Algeria during that conflict as well. After being withdrawn from French service, some vehicles were transferred to South Vietnamese forces. Other nations that received surplus M8’s included Cambodia, Laos, the Philippines and Taiwan.
Yugoslav Partisan Use
During World War II, Yugoslav partisans received nine M8 vehicles, which they nicknamed “Kadilak” after the Cadillac engines. These vehicles were used in operations against German and Croatian forces in the later stages of the war. The M8’s provided the partisans with mechanized firepower they otherwise lacked, as most partisan forces relied on captured equipment and light weapons.
M8 Scott Nickname
In November 1944, the U.S. Army Ordnance Department issued an official directive assigning nicknames to various military vehicles for publicity purposes and media usage. The M8 received the nickname “General Scott” or simply “Scott,” honoring General Winfield Scott.
General Scott served in the U.S. Army during the 19th century and fought in the War of 1812, various Indian Wars, and the Mexican-American War. He was a prominent military figure in American history, and this naming followed the Army’s pattern of naming vehicles after famous generals.
However, historical evidence suggests the nickname “Scott” was primarily used in official documentation and public relations materials rather than by troops in the field. Post-war, the “Scott” nickname became more widely used by historians.
Final Thoughts
The M8 filled a specific operational need during a critical period of the war. Its service in Italy, France and the Pacific demonstrated the importance of mobile fire support for rapidly moving mechanized units.
While overshadowed by more famous vehicles, the M8 played its role effectively and contributed to Allied tactical success in multiple theaters. Its extended post-war service with various nations attested to its basic soundness as a weapons system even if it was deemed outdated against a major power.