How A “Texas Farmer” Destroyed 258 German Tanks in 81 Days… With The Same 4-Man Crew

September 19th, 1944. Müsterbush, Germany. The metal hatch felt cold beneath Lafayette Pool’s gloved hands as he stood exposed in the commander’s position, scanning the treeine ahead through the pre-dawn darkness. His orders that morning had been clear, almost protective. No spearheading today, P.
You and your crew are heading home for a warbonds tour. Stay on the flank. Stay safe. But standing in that turret 6 milesi from Arkan with the Seagreed Lines concrete teeth behind them, P knew one truth that nearly 3 months of combat had burned into his consciousness. In war, safety was an illusion.
The Sherman tank beneath him, painted with the words in the mood in white block letters, represented the third time those words had adorned American steel under his command. The first two tanks bearing that name had been destroyed. This one in less than an hour would join them in a moment that would end the most devastating tank killing spree in American military history.
The morning air carried the smell of diesel exhaust and burnt gunpowder from the previous day’s fighting. Pool could hear the rumble of other Shermans moving into position, the clanking of treads on cobblestones, the low voices of tank commanders checking their positions over the radio. Somewhere ahead, hidden in the buildings and rubble of Müsterbush, German defenders waited with their 88 mm guns and Panzer rockets.
P had faced these weapons dozens of times over the past months. He had learned to respect them, to fear them, but never to let that fear paralyze him. His entire philosophy of tank combat rested on one principle. Strike first. Strike hard. closed the distance before the enemy could bring their superior firepower to bear.
That aggression had kept him alive through 21 major attacks, through the destruction of two tanks, through countless close calls where German rounds had missed by inches or ricocheted off armor without penetrating. But on this morning, with home and safety just days away, Pool’s luck was about to run out. June 14th, 1941, Fort Sam, Houston, Texas.
The enlistment papers carried the signature of a 21-year-old farm boy from ODM, Texas, who had left his engineering studies at Texas College of Arts and Industries to serve his country. Lafayette Green Pool stood 6’2 in tall, a lanky frame built by years working the dry South Texas soil, his hands calloused from rope and plow before they would learn the controls of a 33ton Sherman tank.
He had been born 5 minutes after his twin brother John Thomas on July 23rd, 1919 in the small farming community of Odum, though he grew up on a farm near the neighboring town of Cinton. Both towns sat in the coastal plains of South Texas, where summer heat exceeded 100° and rain remained scarce. Life on a Texas farm in the 1920s meant hard physical labor from sunrise to sunset, working cattle, mending fences, repairing equipment with whatever materials could be scred or improvised.
Electricity remained a luxury few rural families enjoyed. Running water came from wells pumped by hand. Entertainment consisted of radio programs when batteries could be afforded and community gatherings at church on Sundays. P and his twin brother John Thomas were close despite their different temperaments.
John Thomas would eventually join the Navy serving throughout the war on ships in the Pacific. Their sister Tenny May completed the P family. Their father John McKinley Pool and mother Marian Lee Ruthpool instilled in their children the values of hard work, discipline, and service. Young Lafayette, who went by the nickname Leif among family and friends, demonstrated exceptional athletic ability and academic aptitude from an early age.
He attended Taft High School, graduating in 1937, where he excelled in football as a star player whose speed and competitive drive made him stand out on the field. But P’s talents extended beyond athletics. He possessed a sharp mind and fierce determination to succeed academically. After graduating from Taft High School in 1937, P enrolled at Corpus Christi College Academy, an all boys Catholic preparatory school known for its rigorous academic standards.
P thrived in this challenging environment, applying the same intensity he brought to football and farmwork to his studies. He graduated as class validictorian in 1938, an achievement that opened doors for his future education. P then enrolled at Texas College of Arts and Industries in Kingsville, now known as Texas A and M University Kingsville, majoring in engineering.
His aptitude for mathematics and mechanical systems suggested a promising career in engineering, but P’s education would be interrupted by world events beyond his control. During his time in school, P also pursued boxing, competing in the 165 lb weight class. Boxing suited his temperament perfectly.
The sport demanded aggression, quick reflexes, strategic thinking, and the mental toughness to absorb punishment while continuing to fight. Proved exceptionally skilled in the ring, compiling an impressive amateur record of 41 wins with no defeats. His aggressive style and powerful punches earned him the sectional Golden Gloves Championship in New Orleans, Louisiana.
The National Golden Gloves organization invited him to compete in the national finals, an opportunity that could have launched a professional boxing career. P declined. He had other plans. Engineering studies called to him more than the uncertain life of a professional fighter. But the discipline, aggression, and competitive spirit that boxing developed would serve him well in a very different kind of fight. By 1941, the world was at war. Germany had conquered most of Europe.
Britain stood alone against the Nazi war machine. Japan was expanding across Asia. The United States officially remained neutral. But everyone understood that American entry into the conflict was only a matter of time. Young men across America faced a choice. Wait to be drafted or enlist and have some say in which branch of service they would join. P made his decision.
On June 14th, 1941, exactly 6 months before Pearl Harbor would force America into the war, Lafayette P walked into the recruitment office at Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, and enlisted in the United States Army. He was 21 years old, stood 6’2, weighed approximately 175 lbs, and possessed the physical conditioning of an athlete and the mental discipline of a scholar.
The army would transform him into something else entirely. A tank commander who would become the deadliest in American military history. The newly forming third armored division at Camp Bogard, Louisiana became Pool’s introduction to mechanized warfare. The division had been activated on April 15th, 1941, just 2 months before P’s enlistment as part of America’s massive military buildup in anticipation of war.
The third armored division would earn the nickname spearhead for its role in penetrating German defenses across France and into Germany itself. Always leading the advance, always pushing deeper into enemy territory than any other unit. P was assigned to company third battalion 32nd armored regiment where he would serve as a tank commander in the third platoon.
This assignment would define his life. The third armored division represented America’s commitment to mechanized warfare, a relatively new concept that had proven devastatingly effective in German hands during their conquest of Poland and France. The division’s structure reflected lessons learned from observing German Panzer operations.
It combined tank battalions with armored infantry, artillery, engineers, and support units, all trained to operate together as a cohesive fighting force. The division’s primary striking power came from its tank battalions equipped initially with the M3 Lee medium tank, a stop gap design with a 75 mm gun mounted in a hull sponsson and a 37 mm gun in a turret.
The M3 Lee was obsolete before it entered service, but American tank production in 1941 could not yet deliver better designs in sufficient quantities. The M4 Sherman, which would become the standard American medium tank for the rest of the war, was just entering production when P joined the army. Training at Camp Bogard proved intense and demanding.
P and his fellow tankers learned to operate, maintain, and fight from armored vehicles under every conceivable condition. They practiced gunnery until they could identify targets and engage them in seconds. They learned radio procedures for coordinating with other tanks, infantry, and artillery.
They studied German tactics and equipment, learning the capabilities and vulnerabilities of the panzas they would eventually face in combat. They conducted endless field exercises, simulating attacks, defenses, and pursuit operations. The Louisiana countryside became their classroom. Its forests and swamps providing terrain that mimicked the European battlefields where they would eventually fight.
Pool’s natural aggression, tactical instincts, and fierce competitive drive marked him immediately as exceptional. Officers noted his intensity during training exercises, his unwillingness to accept second place in anything. During gunnery practice, P’s tank consistently scored among the highest in the battalion.
During tactical exercises, P demonstrated an intuitive understanding of terrain and enemy positions that exceeded what could be taught in classrooms. He studied everything about tanks, how they moved, how they fought, where their vulnerabilities lay. He learned to read terrain like a book, identifying positions that offered advantages in fields of fire, concealment, and routes of advance or withdrawal.
Most importantly, P demonstrated leadership. The men under his command respected him, trusted him, would follow him anywhere. That trust would be earned and reearned dozens of times in combat. P demanded perfection from himself and his men, pushing them through endless gunnery drills, driving practice, and tactical maneuvers.
He was not cruel or arbitrary in his demands. He simply understood that in combat, the difference between a well-trained crew and a mediocre one was the difference between life and death. Every second saved in target acquisition meant firing first. Every round that hit meant one less enemy tank shooting back.
Every correct radio call meant better coordination and support. Pool drilled these lessons into his crew until their actions became instinctive. Load, aim, fire, reload became a rhythm as natural as breathing. Identify target, assess range, adjust fire became second nature. The crew would need every bit of that training when they finally entered combat.
When the opportunity came to receive a commission as an officer, P refused. Commissioned officers commanded from battalion or company level, coordinating multiple tanks and supporting units from command posts. P wanted to fight from a tank, to lead from the front where he could see the enemy and make split-second tactical decisions. He preferred to remain close to his crew, close to the fight.
That decision would prove defining. Staff sergeants did not normally command platoon in combat, but P’s exceptional skills and aggressive leadership would see him leading multiple tanks in attack after attack, trusted by his superiors to accomplish missions that would normally fall to left tenants or captains.
Training continued through 1942 and into 1943, expanding beyond Camp Bogard to other locations. The third armored division deployed to the desert training center in the Mojave Desert of California and Arizona, where the vast open spaces and harsh conditions provided excellent preparation for potential combat in North Africa.
The desert maneuvers tested men and machines under extreme heat, choking dust, and terrain that offered no concealment. Tank commanders learned to navigate by dead reckoning across featureless wastes. Crews learned to maintain their vehicles under conditions that caused metal to expand, seals to fail, and systems to overheat. The lessons learned in the desert would prove valuable, though the third armored division would fight in Europe rather than Africa.
After desert training, the division moved to Indiantown Gap, Pennsylvania for final preparation before deployment overseas. The rolling hills and forests of Pennsylvania more closely resembled European terrain than either Louisiana swamps or California deserts. Here the division practiced the combined arms tactics that would prove decisive in France and Germany.
Tanks advanced with infantry support protected by artillery fire with engineers ready to breach obstacles and clear minefields. Radio discipline improved. Maintenance procedures were refined. Weak points in organization and tactics were identified and corrected. By late 1943, the third armored division was as ready for combat as training could make it.
During these years of training, P experienced important events in his personal life. He married Evelyn Wright while on leave in December 1942. A brief moment of normaly and happiness before he would depart for the war that would define his generation. Evelyn would wait for him throughout the war, writing letters that sustained P through the darkest moments of combat, raising a family that would eventually include eight children, four sons, and four daughters.
The marriage would last until P’s death nearly 50 years later, a testament to the strength of the bond they formed during those brief moments together before P departed for England. In September 1943, P and the 32nd Armored Regiment boarded troop ships in New York Harbor, crossing the Atlantic to stage in England.
The crossing took approximately 2 weeks with thousands of soldiers packed into converted passenger liners and cargo ships, sleeping in cramped quarters, enduring rough seas and the constant fear of German hubot. The convoy zigzagged across the Atlantic to avoid submarine wolf packs, protected by destroyer escorts that patrolled the periphery dropping depth charges whenever sonar contacts suggested possible submarines. P and his fellow tankers arrived safely in Liverpool in late September 1943.
The third armored division would spend 9 months in England from September 1943 to June 1944, continuing training and preparing for the cross channel invasion that everyone knew was coming. The division staged near Liverpool and Bristol in Somerset, conducting exercises across the English countryside, learning to work with British units, and receiving the final equipment and replacements that would bring the division to full strength. The waiting proved difficult.
Everyone knew that invasion and combat were imminent, but no one knew exactly when or where. Rumors circulated constantly. Security was tight. Training continued. During this time, P experienced his first and only defeat in combat sports. Joe Lewis, the heavyweight boxing champion known as the Brown Bomber, toured England in July 1944, putting on exhibition matches for the troops.
Lewis was arguably the greatest heavyweight of all time, a cultural icon whose victories in the ring had become symbols of American strength and resolve. His second victory over German boxer Max Schmeling in 1938 had taken on enormous political significance as a repudiation of Nazi racial theories. Now Louie used his fame to boost troop morale, sparring with servicemen in friendly exhibition bouts.
Few soldiers wanted to step into the ring with the heavyweight champion of the world, but P, always confident, always competitive, volunteered for an exhibition match. The bout was scheduled for July 4th, 1944, Independence Day in Liverpool. It was meant to be a friendly exhibition, light sparring to entertain the troops. P had other ideas.
His competitive nature and boxer’s instincts took over. He went after Lewis aggressively, landing several solid blows that caught the champion by surprise. Louie responded by putting his arm around Pool and saying quietly, “White man, I’m going to teach you a big lesson.” The lesson came swiftly and thoroughly.
Lewis proceeded to give P a boxing lesson, using his superior speed, power, and technique to dominate the young sergeant without actually hurting him. Lewis could have knocked P out at any time, but chose instead to demonstrate the vast gulf between amateur and professional boxing. P would later admit that Joe Lewis turned him every which way but loose during that exhibition.
But P walked away with something more valuable than victory. He learned that even overwhelming power and superior physical gifts could be overcome with the right tactics, the right moment, the right shot. He learned that aggression alone was not enough. Skill, timing, and tactical intelligence mattered.
Those lessons would serve him well in the battles ahead. June 23rd, 1944, the port of Weimoth, England. The third armored division began boarding ships for the crossing to Normandy. The D-Day invasion had occurred on June 6th, 18 days earlier.
Allied forces had secured the beach head and were pushing inland against fierce German resistance. Now followon units like the third armored division would cross the channel to join the battle. The division’s tanks and vehicles had been carefully waterproofed for the amphibious landing with protective covers and seals over every opening to keep seawater from flooding engines and compartments during the wade from landing craft to shore. The preparation was thorough, but the men remained nervous.
Everyone had heard stories about the chaos of D-Day, the casualties on Omaha Beach, the desperate fighting in the hedge. Now it was their turn. June 24th, 1944. Omaha Beach, Normandy, France. The third armored division came ashore 18 days after D-Day in a steady rain that turned the beach into a muddy chaos of men, vehicles, and equipment being processed through crowded assembly areas. The beach still bore the scars of the invasion.
Wrecked landing craft lay half submerged in the surf. Destroyed German fortifications dotted the cliffs. Vast supply dumps of ammunition, fuel, rations, and equipment covered every available space. Military police directed traffic, trying to maintain order as thousands of vehicles moved inland toward assembly areas. The smell of salt water mixed with diesel exhaust, wet earth, and the lingering odor of explosives.
Pool’s first Sherman, an M4A1 with a 75 mm main gun, came ashore without incident. The waterproofing held, the engine started, and the tank ground up the beach under its own power. Over the next several days, the division assembled in designated areas, removed waterproofing, test fired weapons, performed maintenance, and prepared for combat.
Pool’s crew had trained together for months, developing the kind of synchronized precision that meant the difference between life and death in combat. Now they would discover whether that training was sufficient for the reality of battle. Personally selected each member of his crew, choosing men whose skills and temperament complemented each other and matched his own aggressive approach to combat.
Corporal Wilbert Richards, called baby because of his babyfaced appearance despite being 24 years old, served as driver. Richards stood only 5’4 in tall, compact, and wiry, but he possessed exceptional skill at maneuvering the Sherman. Pool bragged that Baby could parallel park the 33-tonon Sherman in downtown New York rush hour traffic, an exaggeration that contained essential truth.
Richards could thread the big tank through narrow village streets, reverse at speed while under fire, and position the Sherman for optimal firing angles with a precision that exceeded most drivers. Richards drove with his hatch open whenever possible, having once been trapped inside a tank when a hatch jammed during training.
That experience left him with a lifelong fear of being trapped inside a burning tank, a fear that every tanker shared, but Richards felt more acutely. The open hatch gave him better visibility and a faster escape route if the tank was hit, though it also left him more vulnerable to shell fragments and small arms fire. Private first class Bertrand Close, just 17 years old and called school boy for his youth and wire- rimmed glasses, served as assistant driver and bow gunner, operating the 30 caliber Browning M1919 machine gun mounted in the front hull.
Close hailed from Portland, Oregon, and looked like a teenager because he was one with smooth features and a slight build that made him seem younger than his years. But appearances deceived. Close was vicious with that bow machine gun, cutting down enemy infantry with precision fire. His position in the right front of the tank gave him a good field of fire forward and to the right, covering the approaches that enemy infantry would use to get close enough to attack the tank with panzer fasts or magnetic mines.
Close was also responsible for assisting with loading ammunition during intense combat, passing rounds from storage racks to the loader when speed was critical. Corporal Willis Ol, 29 years old and nicknamed Groundhog, manned the main gun. Ol came from Illinois, older than the rest of the crew, and possessed of a calm, methodical temperament that contrasted with Pool’s intensity.
Olmed to see all of France through his gun sights, his face perpetually marked by the imprint of his tanker goggles. He kept his eye pressed to the sight constantly, ready to fire at any moment. The gunner’s position was perhaps the most demanding in the tank. The gunner had to identify targets quickly, judge range accurately, select the correct ammunition type, aim precisely while the tank was moving, and fire at exactly the right moment.
All of this had to happen in seconds, often while under enemy fire, with explosions rocking the tank and smoke obscuring vision. Ola excelled at this demanding job. His perfectly placed shots would destroy German tank after German tank over the coming months, validating P’s faith in his abilities. Technician fifth grade Delbert Bogs, 22 years old from Lancaster, Ohio, and called Jailbird, served as Loader. The nickname derived from his background.
According to crew law, Bogs had been arrested on manslaughter charges and given a choice by the court, prison or the military. Bogs chose the army, bringing with him a toughness and street wisdom that served him well in combat. Whether the story was entirely true or partially embellished, it captured something essential about Bogs’s character. He was tough, resilient, and absolutely reliable under fire.
The loader’s job was physically demanding. A 75 mm round weighed approximately 25 lb, and the 76 mm rounds they would later use weighed even more. During intense combat, the loader might handle dozens of rounds, selecting the correct ammunition type on Pool’s command, loading smoothly despite the confined space and the violent motion of the tank, then immediately preparing the next round. Bogs was skinny, but possessed wiry strength and endurance.
His speed and reliability in loading gave P’s tank a rate of fire that exceeded most other Shermans. These four men, led by P, called themselves the pups, and they called their commander War Daddy, a nickname that captured both affection and respect for the man who led them into hell again and again.
The nickname war daddy emerged during training when Pool’s intense focus on combat preparation and his paternal concern for his crews welfare created a dynamic where he was simultaneously their leader and protector. P was younger than Ola and not much older than the others, but his force of personality and leadership ability made him the natural center of the crew.
They trusted him absolutely. That trust would be tested dozens of times over the coming months. The crew had regularly outscored other division crews in gunnery efficiency during training. Their teamwork was seamless, each man knowing his role, trusting his brothers. When P called out a fire command, the crew responded with machine-like precision. Driver stop. Gunner sabot tank front on the way. Boom.
The entire sequence from spotting a target to firing could take less than 5 seconds with a well-trained crew. Pool’s crew could do it in three. That speed would save their lives repeatedly. Pool’s tactical philosophy was simple and brutal, refined through years of training and study of German armored tactics. Shoot first, shoot to kill, always go forward, never retreat.
He believed in closing with the enemy, in getting to ranges where the Sherman’s advantages in maneuverability, rate of fire, and crew training could overcome the German advantages in armor and firepower. German tanks like the Panther and Tiger possessed superior guns and thicker armor capable of destroying a Sherman at ranges where the Sherman could not penetrate their frontal armor.
The solution was to never fight at long range. P closed the distance aggressively, maneuvering to get flank shots where even a Panther’s armor could be penetrated, overwhelming German crews with rapid accurate fire before they could bring their superior firepower to bear effectively. Pool was claustrophobic, preferring to ride exposed in the turret or on top of the tank rather than buttoned up inside.
This was both a weakness and a strength. The weakness was obvious. exposed in the turret. Pool was vulnerable to shell fragments, small arms fire, and the concussion from nearby explosions. Many tank commanders were killed or wounded by fire that would not have penetrated the tank’s armor if they had remained buttoned up inside, but the strength was significant.
Standing in the open hatch or sitting on top of the turret, P had vastly better visibility than commanders who fought buttoned up, seeing through periscopes and vision slits. He could spot threats earlier, identify targets faster, and maintain better situational awareness. He saw the battlefield in three dimensions rather than the narrow tunnels of vision that periscopes provided.
That advantage in awareness often meant the difference between shooting first or being shot first. In tank combat, shooting first usually meant survival. Pool’s battalion commander, Lieutenant Colonel Walter Richardson, was also a Texan, and the two men developed a relationship based on mutual respect and shared aggression.
Richardson recognized P’s exceptional abilities and gave him increasing responsibilities despite his rank as a staff sergeant. Richardson said P rode his tank like a bucking bronco, always exposed, always vulnerable, always leading from the front. That aggressive leadership style inspired Pool’s crew and made him the natural choice to lead spearhead attacks.
Richardson would call on P again and again to take the most dangerous missions, to lead attacks into the most heavily defended positions. Pool never refused, never hesitated. He simply climbed into his tank and led the way forward. Before Pool’s Sherman went into combat, it needed a name. Tank crews typically painted names on their vehicles, personalizing the steel machines they lived in and depended on for survival.
Pool chose In the Mood, taken from Glenn Miller’s popular swing song that had been a massive hit in 1940 and remained a favorite among American servicemen. The song’s upbeat tempo and infectious energy captured something about Pool’s approach to combat. Aggressive, confident, unstoppable. The name would become legendary. June 29th, 1944.
Villia’s Fossard, France. The Third Armored Division’s Combat Command. I received orders to reduce a German salient northeast of St. Low, a defensive position held by a reinforced fuselier battalion of the 353rd Infantry Division. This would be the division’s first combat operation, and Pool’s first taste of battle.
The mission was to attack a 3,000yard deep salient that protected the town of Villia’s Facade located just east of the Via River and north of St. Low. The Germans had prepared strong defensive positions, taking full advantage of the Normandy hedger that turned every field into a natural fortress. The hedge of Normandy proved one of the most significant terrain challenges American forces faced in France.
Built up over centuries, the hedge consisted of thick earthn walls three to four feet high, crowned with dense vegetation of bushes and small trees. They lined every field and road, creating a maze of natural fortifications that channeled movement and provided perfect concealment for defensive positions.
German infantry and anti-tank guns could hide behind hedge, invisible until attackers came within pointblank range. Tanks attempting to climb over hedgerros exposed their vulnerable belly armor to enemy fire. The first American attacks in Normandy had been costly disasters as units learned these lessons in blood. American engineers developed a solution.
They cut large steel beams from the German beach obstacles that had been intended to stop the D-Day invasion and welded these beams onto the fronts of Sherman tanks, creating battering rams called rhino tanks. These modified Shermans could smash through hedge rows at speed without climbing over them, allowing tanks to maintain their armor protection while breaking through into adjacent fields.
The innovation transformed the tactical situation, giving American armor the mobility needed to operate effectively in the hedge country. At 0900 hours on June 29th, Combat Command A launched its attack with task forces X and Y, advancing a breast toward Villia’s facade. Pool’s platoon moved with Task Force Y on the right flank.
Artillery preparation preceded the advance with American guns pounding German positions for 30 minutes before the tanks moved forward. The bombardment filled the air with the shriek of shells and the thunder of explosions. Then came the order to advance. Pool’s Sherman moved forward with other tanks of Task Force Y, grinding through the Norman countryside toward the German positions. Visibility was limited to the next hedge row, sometimes only 50 yards away.
Radio chatter filled Pool’s headset as other tank commanders reported contacts, called for artillery support, coordinated their movements. The distinctive crack of German 75 mm anti-tank guns echoed across the battlefield, answered by the deeper boom of American tank guns. Black smoke from burning vehicles drifted across the fields. Pool spotted German vehicles ahead through gaps in the hedgeross.
Half track 10:00 300 yd. He gave the fire command and Ol sent a 75 mm high explosive round downrange. The round hit the German vehicle squarely and it exploded in flames. Pool’s crew destroyed three German vehicles and killed over 70 enemy soldiers during that first day of combat.
The violence and chaos of armored combat proved exactly what P had trained for. Yet training could never fully prepare anyone for the reality. The noise was overwhelming. The fear was real. The adrenaline made time seem to both speed up and slow down simultaneously. But Pool’s training took over. He moved aggressively, pushing forward, refusing to yield ground.
His crew responded with discipline and precision, each man performing his role exactly as drilled during countless training exercises. Then came the moment every tank crew feared. in the mood entered the village of Leforge, part of the Villia’s Facar combat area, advancing down a narrow street between stone buildings.
The village was supposedly clear of enemy forces, but intelligence was incomplete and situations changed rapidly in combat. As the Sherman rolled down the street, a German soldier with a Panzer Foust stepped from a doorway, aimed the shoulder fired anti-tank weapon, and fired from less than 50 yards away. The Panzer Fouast was a simple but effective weapon. A shaped charge warhead on the end of a disposable launcher.
It could penetrate over 200 mm of armor. More than enough to destroy a Sherman. The rocket motor ignited with a whoosh and the warhead stre across the short distance, slamming into in the mood side armor with a metallic crash that rang through the crew compartment.
The shaped charge detonated against the armor, creating a jet of superheated metal that punched through into the crew compartment. The tank shuddered violently. Smoke filled the interior. Alarms sounded. Pool gave the immediate order, bail out. All five crew members scrambled from the disabled tank, moving with the practiced speed that training had instilled.
P was first out through the commander’s hatch, followed by Ola. Richards and Close exited through the driver and assistant driver hatches in the front hull. Bogs squeezed through the loader’s hatch. They all escaped before ammunition could cook off or fire spread through the vehicle. The crew had survived their first tank loss with no casualties, though the experience left them shaken.
In the mood, the first Sherman to bear that name was destroyed. The crew had lasted exactly 5 days in combat. P and his crew rejoined Task Force Y on foot, hitching rides on other tanks until they could be assigned a replacement vehicle. The battle for Villia’s Fossard continued through June 30th. Combat Command.
A lost 31 tanks and 12 other vehicles during the two-day battle. A stark introduction to the reality of armored combat in Normandy. German defensive fire was accurate and deadly. The terrain favored the defenders at every turn, but the attack succeeded. American forces seized Villia’s Fossar and held it until relieved by elements of the 29th Infantry Division.
The third armored division had passed its first test, learning valuable lessons about hedro fighting that would serve it well in the weeks ahead. July 1st, 1944. Somewhere in Normandy, P and his crew received their replacement tank, an M4A1 with the new 76 mm main gun, designated M4A176W pool, was the first tank commander in his regiment to receive this upgraded variant.
A recognition of his performance during the Villar’s Facade battle. The new tank represented a significant improvement in firepower. The W stood for wet stowage, a critical safety feature where ammunition racks were surrounded by containers filled with a mixture of water, ethylene glycol, and a rust inhibitor known as ammudamp.
This wet stowage dramatically reduced the risk of catastrophic fire when the tank was penetrated. Early model Shermans had a terrible reputation for burning when hit, earning the nickname Ronson from German tankers after the cigarette lighter that advertised lights first time every time. The wet stowage system greatly improved crew survivability. The 76 mm gun represented a quantum leap in armor penetration capability compared to the 75 mm.
While the 75 mm M3 gun could only penetrate a Panther’s frontal armor at ranges under 100 yd under ideal conditions, the 76 mm M1 gun could penetrate Panther side armor at 2,000 yd and frontal armor at ranges up to 500 yd when using armor-piercing ammunition. Against German MarkV tanks, the most common German medium tank, the 76 mm was effective at even longer ranges.
The trade-off was that the 76 mm fired a less effective high explosive round than the 75 mm, making it slightly less useful against infantry and soft targets. But for Pool’s aggressive close-range tank hunting tactics, the improved anti-armour capability was invaluable. Pool immediately had in the mood painted on the new hull, maintaining the tradition.
The crew climbed aboard their new ride, familiarizing themselves with the slightly different layout and controls. The 76 mm gun was longer and heavier than the 75 mm, changing the tank’s balance slightly. The internal arrangement of ammunition storage differed. The crew needed to learn these differences to make the new tank their own.
Over the next 6 weeks, P and his crew would write the most remarkable chapter in American tank warfare history with this vehicle. The hedgero fighting of Normandy tested every tanker’s skill and nerve. The battle rhythm was brutally simple. Advance to a hedge. Take fire from the next hedger. Call for artillery support. Assault through the hedge under covering fire.
Clear the field of enemy infantry. advanced to the next hedge row, repeat endlessly day after day. Visibility was measured in yards. Ambushes came from every direction. German 75 mm and 88 mm anti-tank guns lurked behind every stone wall and hedge row. Their long barrels carefully concealed until American tanks came within killing range.
German infantry with panzerasts infiltrated close to American positions at night, waiting for the chance to fire their shaped charge warheads into tank sides or rear armor. The casualty rate for tank crews was staggering. But Pool’s tactical instincts proved exceptional. He developed a sixth sense for reading terrain, for identifying likely enemy positions before they revealed themselves.
He studied the way shadows fell, the patterns of vegetation, the sight lines from different positions. He learned to recognize the telltale signs of defensive preparation, the subtle disturbances in foliage that might conceal a gun position, the optimal firing positions that an experienced enemy would naturally choose. This ability to think like the enemy, to anticipate their actions, gave P a crucial edge.
He spotted threats before they spotted him. He engaged first, usually destroying enemy positions before they could return effective fire. On one occasion, advancing at dusk near the town of Lamesnil Herman, P was about to order his driver to halt for the night when a shape materialized in the darkness 50 ft ahead.
A German 40mm anti-aircraft gun imp placement, its crew unaware of the Sherman’s presence. The Germans were settling in for the night, moving around their position without the discipline of men expecting immediate contact. P recognized instantly that he had seconds to act before the German crew spotted his tank.
Without warning, without giving away his position with orders over the radio that might be overheard, P simply shouted, “Gunner, fire!” The command was pure instinct, pure aggression. Ola’s eye was already pressed to the sight as it always was. His hands moved instantly to the firing controls.
The 76 mm gun roared, sending an armorpiercing round directly at the German position. The projectile covered the short distance in a fraction of a second, striking the 40 mm gun squarely. The impact destroyed the gun and killed or wounded the crew instantly. The entire engagement from pool spotting the target to the round impacting took perhaps 3 seconds. That instant reaction, the product of hundreds of hours of training and growing combat experience, typified the crews efficiency. They had achieved the ideal state for combat soldiers, where training becomes instinct and decisions
happen faster than conscious thought. Another night engagement near Colombia, France, nearly ended in disaster, but instead demonstrated P’s tactical brilliance and his crew’s exceptional skill. Pool’s platoon was advancing in darkness, moving cautiously through hedro country, where visibility was limited to a few yards.
Night operations were extremely dangerous for tanks. Visibility was minimal, even with the tanks crude infrared equipment. Enemy infantry could get very close under cover of darkness. Friendly fire incidents were common when units lost track of each other’s positions, but the tactical situation demanded night movement and P led his platoon forward.
Suddenly, in the mood almost collided with a German Panther tank, the two vehicles came around adjacent corners of a hedro and found themselves facing each other at a range of perhaps 30 yards. The Panther was one of the most feared armored vehicles in the vermarked arsenal.
It mounted a 75 mm KWK42 gun that could penetrate a Sherman’s frontal armor at over 2,000 yd. The Panther’s frontal armor was nearly impenetrable to the Sherman’s 76 mm gun, except at very close range. On paper, the Panther was superior to the Sherman in every measurable category, except perhaps mechanical reliability.
German tankers called the Sherman a Zippo lighter, claiming they could destroy Shermans easily, while American rounds bounced harmlessly off Panther armor. But combat is not fought on paper. Pool’s superior crew training and aggressive tactics negated the German technical advantages. Both commanders spotted each other simultaneously. Both gave fire commands. The Panthers crew got off two shots in rapid succession, but the darkness, surprise, and hasty aim caused both rounds to miss. One passing over in the mood’s turret with a crack of displaced air, the other hitting the ground just in
front of the Sherman and ricocheting upward, missing the belly armor by inches. Ola’s reply went true. A single 76 mm armorpiercing round fired at point blank range penetrated the Panther’s turret ring where the turret joined the hull, a weak point in the armor scheme.
The round detonated inside the turret, igniting ammunition and killing the crew instantly. The German tank erupted in flames, illuminating the area with orange light that destroyed what remained of Pool’s night vision, but also silhouetted other German vehicles in the area. P immediately called for his platoon to engage additional targets while backing away from the burning Panther before its ammunition exploded catastrophically.
The engagement lasted perhaps 10 seconds from initial contact to the Panther burning. P had won a duel with a technically superior tank through superior crew work, better training, faster reactions, and more accurate shooting. News of Pool’s kill spread through the battalion and then the division. American tankers feared the Panther and Tiger. Stories circulated about German super tanks that could destroy Shermans at ranges where American guns were ineffective.
Crew morale suffered when facing these monsters. But P had proven that German tanks could be killed. Aggressive tactics, good crew drill, and accurate shooting could overcome technical inferiority. P’s example inspired other tank commanders to fight more aggressively to close the range where American advantages in maneuverability and rate of fire could compensate for weaker guns and thinner armor. July 26th, 1944.
Operation Cobra began with one of the most concentrated bombing campaigns in military history. Over 1,500 American heavy bombers and 380 medium bombers dropped nearly 4,000 tons of bombs on German positions south of St. Low in just a few hours. The bombardment was intended to pulverize German defenses, creating a gap through which American armor could pour into open country beyond the hedge.
The plan worked brilliantly despite tragic friendly fire incidents that killed over 100 American soldiers, including Lieutenant General Leslie McNair. The German lines shattered under the bombardment. Their defensive positions ceased to exist as coherent fortifications. Surviving defenders were dazed, disorganized, and unable to mount effective resistance. The third armored division led the exploitation, punching through the shattered German lines on July 29th and racing south into open country.
After weeks of grinding hedge fighting, where progress was measured in hundreds of yards per day, the division suddenly found itself in a war of movement. Tanks raced down roads at 20 and 30 mph, covering more ground in hours than they had in weeks of previous fighting. German units bypassed and isolated by the rapid American advance attempted to retreat but found their escape routes cut. Thousands of Germans surrendered.
Those who attempted to fight found themselves overwhelmed by American firepower and mobility. Pool’s tanks spearheaded attack after attack during the breakout. Always in the lead, always pushing forward. The role of spearhead tank was simultaneously an honor and a death sentence.
The spearhead tank was first to encounter enemy resistance, first to be engaged by anti-tank guns and panzerasts, first to hit mines or run into prepared ambushes. Casualty rates for spearhead tanks were astronomical. But P volunteered for the role again and again. His crew never questioned his decisions. They trusted War Daddy to get them through.
and somehow despite the odds in the mood kept rolling forward, kept destroying enemy vehicles, kept surviving when other tanks were hit and burned. At Dyson, Belgium near Lege, P distinguished himself while acting as platoon leader during the pursuit across France into Belgium. The third armored division had advanced so rapidly that P, a staff sergeant, was leading a platoon of five tanks because no officers were available.
His column was advancing down a road when they took fire from the left flank. German halfrackcks and armored cars attempting to escape the encirclement had stumbled into the American column. P ordered his column to continue its advance while he turned in the mood to deal with the threat. The crew located the German unit, perhaps a dozen vehicles attempting to move cross country through fields and woods.
pool closed to effective range and opened fire, destroying six enemy vehicles in rapid succession. The German column scattered, some vehicles attempting to escape, others returning fire ineffectively. While P was engaged with this threat, word came over the radio that a German Panther had appeared ahead and was engaging the American column. P had to choose.
Continue mopping up the vehicles he had already engaged or race back to deal with the more serious threat of the Panther. He chose the latter. P ordered Richards to get back to the column at maximum speed. The Sherman raced down the road at 25 mph, faster than was safe given the terrain and visibility, but P knew that every second counted.
His column needed support immediately. As they approached the reported Panther position, P scanned for the German tank while Bogs loaded armor-piercing rounds and Ola prepared to engage. P spotted the Panther engaging American Shermans from a hull down position behind a slight rise. The German tank had the advantage of a prepared firing position and was methodically engaging the American column.
Two Shermans were already burning. P could see crew members from one tank bailing out through flames and smoke. The Panthers attention was focused forward on the American column it was engaging. The German commander had not yet spotted P’s tank approaching from the flank. P immediately recognized the opportunity. Never interrupt an enemy when he is making a mistake, Napoleon had advised.
The Panther commander was fixated on his targets to the front, presenting his side armor to Pool’s approach. P gave the fire command. Gunner Sabot Panther left flank. Ola traversed the turret smoothly, putting the crosshairs of his sight on the Panther’s side armor just below the turret ring. On the way, the 76 mm gun fired, the round covering the distance in less than a second.
The armor-piercing projectile struck the Panther’s side armor and penetrated cleanly, detonating inside the crew compartment. The German tank shuddered. Smoke poured from its hatches, and moments later, flames appeared. The crew attempted to bail out, but the internal explosion had killed or stunned them.
Only one German crewman managed to escape before ammunition detonated catastrophically, blowing the turret off the hull. P had destroyed his second Panther, again through superior tactics rather than superior firepower. He had maneuvered to get a flank shot where his 76 mm gun was effective, and his crew had executed perfectly.
The American column resumed its advance, now with P’s tank in the lead, having earned the spearhead position through demonstrated capability rather than assigned duty. August 7th, 1944. The file’s gap battle represented one of the most significant engagements of the Normandy campaign. Allied forces were attempting to encircle and destroy the German 7th army and fifth panzer army, trapping them in a pocket near the town of Filets.
If successful, the encirclement would destroy the primary German forces in Normandy, opening the way for a rapid advance across France to the German border. The operation required American forces advancing north from the south to link up with British and Canadian forces advancing south from the north, closing the gap and trapping the Germans inside.
Pool’s tank led task force Y of combat command A during the closing of the pocket with Lieutenant Colonel Richardson monitoring the radio from his command position. The fighting was chaotic and desperate. German units attempted to break out of the encirclement, attacking American positions with everything they had. Other German units already west of the pocket attempted to break through American lines from the outside to create an escape route for their trapped comrades.
The result was a massive confused battle with units from both sides intermixed, fighting, meeting engagements and ambushes in the Norman countryside. As Pool’s column advanced, they encountered groups of German soldiers attempting to escape on foot, having abandoned their vehicles and heavy weapons.
Lieutenant Colonel Richardson listened on the radio as P closed with a group of fleeing German troops. Pool’s voice came over the radio. Ain’t got the heart to kill them. The humanitarian impulse was real and reflected P’s character despite his aggressive reputation. German soldiers attempting to flee on foot represented no immediate threat to Pool’s mission, but Richardson knew that P understood the tactical situation.
Immediately following came the sound of Close’s 30 caliber bow machine gun opening fire. Richardson heard Pool’s voice again. Watch the bastards run. Give it to them close. The humanitarian impulse lasted only a moment before tactical necessity prevailed. German soldiers fleeing in disorder still represented a threat if allowed to escape, regroup, and reorganize.
They would be issued new weapons and returned to combat. More Americans would die fighting them later if P allowed them to escape now. Pool’s job was to destroy the enemy’s capacity to resist, and he executed that mission without hesitation, despite his personal feelings. The incident illustrated the moral complexity of combat where good men must do terrible things in service of necessary missions.
From August 29th to 31st 1944, P commanded the lead tank in an attack that would earn him the Distinguished Service Cross, America’s second highest decoration for valor. The citation approved by division headquarters and signed by senior commanders described P’s actions in detail. P was advancing alone ahead of his task force, having outdistanced supporting tanks in his aggressive push forward.
Enemy contact was expected, but Pool’s exact location and the enemy dispositions were unclear in the fluid combat situation. Over the course of 3 days, advancing often alone or with only one or two other tanks, P’s crew engaged and destroyed four German tanks in separate encounters.
The first was a MarkV destroyed from ambush as it attempted to cross a road. The second was a Sturm Gashutz assault gun destroyed at close range after a brief running fight through a village. The third and fourth were Panthers destroyed in a single engagement where Pool’s tank came under fire from both vehicles simultaneously and destroyed both through superior shooting and crew discipline.
In addition to the tanks, Pool’s crew destroyed three anti-tank guns that had been positioned to ambush American armor, approximately 50 unarmored vehicles, including halftracks, trucks, and cars, and killed or wounded an overwhelming number of enemy personnel. The citation noted that P’s unflinching courage and inspired leadership in the face of devastating hostile fire permitted the rapid advance of his task force with minimum casualties.
His extraordinary heroism, personal bravery, and zealous devotion to duty exemplified the highest traditions of the military forces. The award citation understated the danger of what P had accomplished. Advancing alone or with minimal support, P had deliberately placed himself in the most dangerous position to draw enemy fire and identify enemy positions.
Every anti-tank gun he destroyed had gotten off at least one shot at his tank before he killed it. Every German tank he engaged was theoretically capable of destroying his Sherman before he could destroy it. P survived through a combination of skill, aggression, crew training, and extraordinary luck.
The Distinguished Service Cross recognized his actions, though many who witnessed them believed he deserved the Medal of Honor. Over those three days in late August, P demonstrated that aggressive action, superior tactics, and excellent crew work could overcome numerical and technical disadvantages. The Sherman was inferior to German medium and heavy tanks in armor and firepower.
But P proved conclusively that the tank with the better crew won the engagement, not the tank with the thicker armor or bigger gun. His example inspired other tank commanders throughout the division to fight more aggressively, to take calculated risks, to close with the enemy rather than engaging from standoff distances where German technical superiority was decisive.
August 17th, 1944, from France, combat command A was clearing remaining German forces from the village during the exploitation across France. The war had become a pursuit with German forces retreating toward Germany’s borders and American armor racing to catch and destroy them before they could establish new defensive lines.
P’s tank was leading the attack into when disaster struck from an unexpected direction. American P38 lightning fighter bombers appeared overhead hunting for German armor. The P38 was a distinctive aircraft with twin engines and a central crew. Nassel. Easily recognizable and usually a welcome sight for American ground forces.
The P38s provided closeair support, attacked German convoys, and helped American units by spotting enemy positions and calling in artillery. But on this day, the P38 pilots made a fatal mistake. From the air at several thousand ft, all tanks looked similar. The distinctive profiles that allowed ground observers to identify friend from foe were much harder to distinguish from above.
The P38 pilot saw tanks advancing through a French village and assumed they were German. The lead pilot called out the target and began his attack run, followed by his wingmen. The P38s carried rockets, devastating weapons effective against armor when fired from diving attacks. P saw the aircraft diving toward his position and immediately recognized the danger.
He grabbed the radio handset, calling frantically to identify his unit as friendly American forces, but the P38s were already committed to their attack. The first aircraft fired a salvo of rockets. The projectiles streaked down toward in the mood trailing smoke. Pool had no time to react, no way to evade. The rockets impacted around and on the Sherman with devastating effect. One rocket struck the turret.
Another hit the engine compartment and explosions erupted across the tank. P gave the immediate order to abandon the vehicle. The crew bailed out with practiced efficiency, scrambling from hatches as fire and smoke engulfed the Sherman. All five men escaped, though several suffered minor injuries from the explosions and the desperate exit from the burning tank.
They ran clear of the vehicle seconds before ammunition began cooking off, sending flames and secondary explosions shooting skyward. In the mood, the second Sherman to bear that name was destroyed, not by German forces, but by friendly fire from their own air support. The incident devastated P and his crew.
They had survived nearly two months of intense combat against German forces, had destroyed dozens of enemy vehicles, had fought their way across France, only to lose their tank to American aircraft. The P38 pilots, upon learning of their mistake, were reportedly distraught. Friendly fire incidents were one of the tragic realities of modern warfare, where fast-moving operations and split-second decisions sometimes led to catastrophic errors.
But understanding the cause did nothing to lessen the impact on Pool’s crew. For the second time in less than two months, P and his crew found themselves without a tank. They had survived two complete losses of their vehicle. First to a German Panserfast, now to American rockets. The odds of surviving even one tank loss were poor.
Surviving two seemed almost miraculous. But P’s luck was not exhausted. Within days, he and his crew received their third Sherman, another M4A1 176W with the 76 mm gun. Once again, P had in the mood painted on the hull. The tradition continued. The name had become synonymous with P’s tank, recognized throughout the third armored division, as belonging to the crew that led every attack that destroyed more enemy vehicles than any other crew, that seemed to bear a charmed life despite constant exposure to danger.
The third in the mood would carry P and his crew through another month of combat, through the advance to the German border, through the penetration of the Ziggfrieded line to the final battle that would end P’s war. September 1944, the third armored division advanced rapidly across France and into Belgium, pursuing German forces that were attempting to retreat to the Sief Freed line, Germany’s defensive fortifications along its western border. The Zikf freed line, known to the Germans as the West Wall, consisted of bunkers, tank
obstacles, and minefields stretching for hundreds of miles. Built in the 1930s as a defensive line against France, the fortifications had been neglected during Germany’s years of offensive victories. Now with Allied forces approaching German soil, the Vemach was desperately trying to man the Ziggfrieded line and prepare it to delay the Allied advance.
The race to reach the Sief Freed line before German forces could fully occupy and prepare its defenses became a critical objective. If Allied forces could penetrate the line while German defenses were still disorganized, they might be able to push into Germany itself before winter halted operations. But if the Germans successfully manned the Sief line with sufficient forces, the Allies would face months of costly fighting to breach the fortifications.
Pool’s tank continued to lead attacks during this pursuit phase. His crew’s tally of destroyed enemy vehicles climbed steadily. By early September, P had personally accounted for the destruction of over 250 enemy vehicles, including at least 12 confirmed tank kills.
The exact number of German soldiers killed by P’s crew exceeded 1,000, though the chaos of combat made precise counts impossible. P’s crew had also captured approximately 250 German prisoners, often entire units that surrendered when faced with the aggressive American tank that seemed to appear everywhere at once. P’s reputation had grown to legendary status within the third armored division.
Other tank commanders studied his tactics, trying to understand how he achieved such remarkable success. Infantry units requested Pool’s tank for support during difficult attacks, knowing that War Daddy would lead the way forward regardless of enemy resistance. Division headquarters recognized Pool’s value, both as a combat leader and as an inspiration to other tankers.
But they also recognized that Pool’s aggressive tactics and constant exposure to danger made his survival increasingly unlikely. The law of averages suggested that even the best tanker’s luck would eventually run out. In midepptember, division headquarters made a decision. P and his crew would be sent home to the United States for a war bonds tour.
They had earned the restbite. They had survived three tank losses, had fought in 21 major attacks, had compiled a combat record unmatched by any other American tank crew. Their story would inspire Americans at home, would help sell war bonds to fund the continued war effort, and would give these exceptional soldiers a well-deserved break from combat. The orders were cut.
P and his crew would complete one final mission. Then they would be withdrawn from the front lines and sent to the rear for processing and transport home. September 19th, 1944. Müsterbush, Germany. The final mission began in darkness. The third armored division’s combat command A was tasked with advancing toward Akan, Germany’s first major city to face Allied attack.
The approach to Arkhan required clearing the small towns and villages that protected the city’s western approaches. Müsterbush was one such village located approximately 6 milesi from Arkham proper. A small collection of buildings and farms that German forces had turned into a defensive strong point. Pool’s orders for this final day were specific and protective. Do not spearhead.
Stay on the flank. The mission was simple. Provide support for other units conducting the main attack, but avoid the most dangerous positions. Division headquarters wanted P and his crew to survive this last mission before being sent home. P understood the orders, but his nature and 3 months of combat experience told him that no position in a tank battle was truly safe.
The attack began at first light. American tanks advanced in a coordinated assault with infantry moving alongside to clear buildings and suppress anti-tank weapons. German resistance was immediate and fierce. The approaches to Arkan were vital to German defense and every yard would be contested. Artillery fire crashed down on both sides.
Mortar rounds exploded among the advancing American forces. The distinctive crack of German 88 mm guns announced the presence of anti-tank weapons and Shermans began burning. Pool’s tank moved forward on the flank as ordered, providing covering fire for the main attack. The crew worked with the efficiency born of three months of combat. Ola scanned for targets through his gun site.
Bogs stood ready with ammunition. Richards maneuvered the Sherman to firing positions that P identified. Close watched the flanks with his bow machine gun. P stood in the commander’s position, exposed as always, directing his crews fire and monitoring the radio for updates on the battle’s progress.
However, Willis Ol was not in the tank on this morning. Ola had been temporarily transferred back to the United States, part of the routine rotation of combat veterans that the army used to provide experienced soldiers a restbite from combat and to use their experience for training purposes. In Ol’s place, manning the main gun for this final battle was Private First Class Paul Kenneth King, a 20-year-old gunner from Anderson County, Tennessee.
King was experienced and capable, but he lacked Ol’s three months of combat experience with Pool’s crew. The synchronization that Pool’s original crew had developed through dozens of battles was slightly diminished, though King was doing his best to match the crew’s exceptional standards. The attack progressed into Müsterbush itself. Buildings provided concealment for German defenders.
Every window, every doorway, every pile of rubble could hide a panzer team or machine gun nest. The fighting became close range and brutal. Tanks fired high explosive rounds into buildings suspected of harboring enemy forces. Infantry cleared houses room by room. German soldiers fought back desperately, knowing they were defending German soil now, not occupied territory.
Pool’s tank reached a street intersection in Müsterbush. The position offered good fields of fire down multiple streets, allowing P to support the main attack while maintaining a relatively protected position. For a brief moment, the situation seemed under control. American forces were advancing. German resistance, while fierce, was being overcome.
P might actually survive this final mission and make it home. Then disaster struck with the sudden violence that characterized tank combat. A German Panther tank, concealed in a protected position that offered excellent fields of fire, opened up on the American armor. The Panthers commander had positioned his tank carefully, waiting for American Shermans to enter his killing zone.
He had identified P’s tank as a priority target, perhaps recognizing the in the mood markings, perhaps simply choosing the nearest American tank, perhaps following the tactical principle of engaging the most dangerous enemy first. The Panther’s 75 mm KWK42 gun fired twice in rapid succession. Both rounds were aimed with deadly precision at in the mood.
The first armor-piercing round struck the Sherman’s turret, penetrating the armor and exploding inside the crew compartment. The second round hit almost simultaneously, striking the hull and causing catastrophic damage to the tank’s internal systems. The explosions inside the turret killed Private First Class Paul Kenneth King instantly. The young gunner from Tennessee, filling in for Ola on what was supposed to be a safer mission, died in the flash of superheated metal and explosive force. He never had a chance to react, never knew what hit him.
P standing in the commander’s position, was struck by shrapnel and blast effects from the penetrating rounds. Metal fragments tore into his right leg, causing massive trauma. The concussion from the explosions inside the confined turret space stunned him. But some instinct, some survival reflex developed through months of combat drove him to give the order to bail out.
The surviving crew members scrambled from the dying tank. Richards and Close exited through their hull hatches. Richards overcoming his fear of being trapped to escape through the driver’s position. Bogs squeezed through the loader’s hatch despite injuries from the explosions. P attempted to climb out through the commander’s hatch, but his shattered right leg would not support his weight.
He struggled, fighting against shock and pain and the knowledge that the tank might explode at any moment. Then the Sherman, already catastrophically damaged, tipped forward into a large shell crater. The forward motion threw P partially out of the turret, but also trapped him against the hatch rim.
His crew, already clear of the tank, turned back despite the danger to help their commander. They pulled P free from the hatch and dragged him away from in the mood as ammunition began cooking off inside the hull. They had perhaps seconds to spare. P was conscious, but in shock from his injuries. His right leg was mangled beyond repair, shattered by shrapnel and blast effects. Blood loss was severe.
The crew called for medics while providing what first aid they could with the limited supplies available in combat. Medics arrived within minutes, stabilizing Pool and preparing him for evacuation to the rear. The crew watched as their commander was loaded onto a jeep and driven away toward a field hospital.
They had survived three tank losses together, had fought through 83 days of continuous combat, had destroyed 258 enemy vehicles, and killed over 1,000 German soldiers. But Paul Kenneth King was dead, and War Daddy’s war was over. P was evacuated through the medical system, moving from a field hospital to a base hospital and eventually to a hospital in the United States. The damage to his right leg was too severe to repair.
Surgeons amputated the leg 8 in above the knee, removing the shattered bone and torn tissue in an operation that saved Pool’s life, but ended his career as a tank commander. The recovery was long and painful. Pool endured multiple surgeries, fought through infections, learned to walk again with a prosthetic leg, but he was alive.
The final statistics of P’s combat service were unprecedented in American military history. In 83 days of combat from June 29th to September 19th, 1944, P and his crew destroyed 258 enemy armored vehicles, including 12 confirmed tank kills. They killed or wounded over 1,000 German soldiers. They captured approximately 250 prisoners.
They led 21 major attacks, always spearheading, always in the most dangerous position. P survived three complete losses of his tank. First to a Panzer Foust, then to friendly fire, finally to a German Panther. His crew survived with him through the first two losses, but Paul Kenneth King paid the ultimate price in the final battle. P was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross for his actions from August 29th to 31st, 1944.
He received the Legion of Merit for his exceptional service throughout the campaign. The Silver Star was awarded for specific acts of valor. The Purple Heart recognized his wounds. The Belgian Furer honored his contributions to the liberation of Belgium. Years later, in recognition of his entire military career, France would award P the Legion of Honor with the grade of Chioalier, P was twice nominated for the Medal of Honor, America’s highest military decoration.
The first nomination’s paperwork was reportedly lost in the chaotic final months of the war in Europe. The second nomination was reviewed by the Army Recommendation Board, but ultimately rejected. The official rationale stated that tanks were crews served weapons and therefore individual heroism in tank combat did not merit the Medal of Honor.
This reasoning reflected an infantry ccentric mentality in the army’s awards system that failed to recognize the reality of armored combat where the tank commander decisions, leadership, and tactical skill were decisive factors in success or failure. Many who served with P believed the rejection was a grave injustice.
Pool’s actions repeated over 83 days of combat demonstrated heroism and leadership that exceeded the standards for the Medal of Honor. But the decision stood. The statistical comparison of Pool’s achievements to the broader context of World War II armored warfare demonstrates just how exceptional his combat record was.
The United States produced approximately 49,000 Sherman tanks during World War II, a massive production effort that provided American and Allied forces with numerical superiority over German armor. Germany produced approximately 6,000 Panther tanks and 1,350 Tiger eye tanks. On paper, German tanks were superior in armor protection and firepower.
The Panther’s 75mm gun could destroy a Sherman at ranges exceeding 2,000 yd, while the Sherman’s 76 mm gun required ranges under 1,000 yd to reliably penetrate Panther frontal armor. The Tiger’s 88 mm gun was even more formidable. But P proved that superior tactics, crew training, and aggressive leadership could overcome technical disadvantages.
His 12 confirmed tank kills included multiple Panthers, the most feared German tank in the American infantry. He destroyed these technically superior vehicles through superior crew work, better positioning, and faster shooting. Pool’s example inspired an entire generation of American tankers to fight aggressively to close the range where American advantages in reliability, rate of fire, and crew training could compensate for weaker guns and thinner armor.
After recovering from his wounds and learning to walk with a prosthetic leg, P faced a choice about his future. He could accept a medical discharge and return to civilian life in Texas. Many soldiers would have made that choice, having given more than enough in service to their country. But P loved the army. The military had become his life, his career, his identity.
He had risen from a farm boy with no prospects beyond agriculture to become the most successful tank commander in American history. He wanted to continue serving. P reinlisted in July 1948, choosing to remain in the army despite his disability. The army recognized his value and his sacrifices, assigning him to positions where his experience and leadership could benefit the next generation of tankers.
P served in various training and advisory roles, passing on the lessons he had learned in combat to soldiers who would fight in future conflicts. His expertise in armored tactics, his understanding of tank gunnery and maneuver, and his leadership abilities made him an invaluable instructor. Paul retired from the army on September 19th, 1960, exactly 16 years to the day after his final battle at Müsterbush.
The coincidence of dates was not planned but seemed appropriate. He retired with the rank of chief warrant officer 2, a testament to his technical expertise and leadership abilities. His career had spanned 19 years of service from his enlistment in June 1941 to his retirement in September 1960, including three months of combat that defined his life and inspired generations of American soldiers.
In retirement, P settled in Keen, Texas, near Fort Hood, one of the Army’s premier armor training bases. He remained connected to the military community, attending reunions of the Third Armored Division, corresponding with veterans he had served with, and occasionally speaking to military audiences about his combat experiences.
He was a devoted family man, raising eight children with his wife, Evelyn, four sons, and four daughters. The marriage that had begun during a brief leave in December 1942 endured through war wounds and the challenges of military life, lasting until P’s death. But tragedy struck P’s family in a way that echoed his own combat service.
His son, Captain Jerry Lin Pool, Senior, followed his father into military service and became an Army special forces officer. Jerry P served in Vietnam during the war’s most intense period, leading reconnaissance teams deep into enemy territory as part of MACVS, Military Assistance Command, Vietnam Studies and Observations Group. MACVS conducted some of the war’s most dangerous missions, inserting small teams into Laos, Cambodia, and North Vietnam to gather intelligence and conduct direct action operations.
On March 24th, 1970, Captain Jerry Lin Pool was serving as team leader for RT Pennsylvania, one of MACVS’s reconnaissance teams. His team was operating in Ratanakiri Province, Cambodia, approximately 14 mi inside Cambodia, conducting reconnaissance of North Vietnamese supply routes. The helicopter carrying P’s team came under heavy enemy fire.
The aircraft was hit, exploded, and crashed, killing all seven soldiers aboard. Captain P was 29 years old. His body remained in Cambodia, listed as missing in action for over 25 years. The search for Captain Pool’s remains became part of the broader effort to account for American servicemen missing in Southeast Asia.
Joint recovery teams from the United States and Vietnam and Cambodia conducted numerous searches in the crash site area over the decades following the war. On April 12th, 1995, a recovery team located remains believed to be from the helicopter crash. The remains were transported to the US Army Central Identification Laboratory in Hawaii where forensic specialists worked to identify them through dental records, DNA analysis, and other methods.
On June 20th, 2001, more than 31 years after his death, the remains were positively identified as Captain Jerry Lynn Pool, Senior. He was finally coming home. Captain P was buried with full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery. His name inscribed on the courts of the missing at the Honolulu Memorial until his remains were recovered and identified.
For Lafayette Pool, the loss of his son to war was devastating. He understood better than most the nature of military service, the risks that soldiers accepted, the possibility of death in combat, but understanding did not lessen the pain of losing a child. Lafayette Greenpool died on May 30th, 1991 in Keen, Texas.
He was 71 years old, having lived nearly 47 years after his wounding at Müsterbush. He was buried with military honors, recognized as one of America’s greatest tank commanders. His legacy lived on in the soldiers he had trained, the tactics he had proven, and the example he had set for aggressive, effective leadership in armored combat.
In 1993, two years after P’s death, Fort Knox, Kentucky, the home of Army Armor Training, dedicated the tank driver training simulator hall in his honor. The facility was informally known as the SSG Lafayette G pool room, ensuring that every tanker trained at Fort Knox would learn the story of War Daddy and his crew. Lieutenant Colonel Olen M. Brewster who had served with P in the third armored division during World War II gave the dedication speech.
Brewster spoke about P’s courage, his tactical brilliance, his devotion to his crew, and his impact on American armored warfare. The dedication ensured that P’s story would continue to inspire future generations of American tankers. Pool’s story reached an even wider audience in 2014 with the release of the film Fury starring Brad Pitt.
The film’s main character, a Sherman tank commander named Waraddy, was explicitly patented after Lafayette Pool. The Texas State Historical Association confirmed that the character was based on Pool’s combat experiences and leadership style. The film depicted the brutal reality of tank combat in World War II, the numerical and technical disadvantages American tankers faced against German armor, and the aggressive tactics that men like Pool used to overcome those disadvantages. While the film was a Hollywood production with necessary dramatic license, it introduced Pool’s story to
millions of people who might never have encountered it otherwise. The film’s depiction of a Sherman tank crew fighting against overwhelming odds using superior tactics and crew work to defeat technically superior German tanks captured the essence of Pool’s combat philosophy. The character War Daddy’s aggressive leadership, his unwillingness to retreat, his determination to close with the enemy and destroy them before they could bring their superior firepower to bear. These traits came directly from P’s documented combat
style and the eyewitness accounts of soldiers who served with him in the third armored division. P’s legacy extends beyond films and memorial halls. His combat record remains unmatched in American military history. No other American tank commander in World War II, Korea, Vietnam, or any subsequent conflict has approached P’s tally of 258 enemy vehicles destroyed in just 83 days of combat.
The statistical improbability of his achievements becomes clear when examined in context. The average Sherman tank in the European theater survived approximately 11 days of combat before being knocked out or destroyed. Pool’s crew survived 83 days across three different tanks, continuing to fight effectively after each loss.
The average American tank crew destroyed between one and three enemy vehicles during their entire combat service. Pool’s crew destroyed 258. The secret to P’s success lay not in superior equipment or overwhelming force, but in the fundamental principles of armored warfare that he understood intuitively and applied ruthlessly.
Aggressive maneuver to close the range where German technical advantages in armor and firepower became less decisive. Superior crew training that allowed faster target acquisition, more accurate shooting, and better tactical decisions under pressure. Absolute refusal to yield ground or break contact, forcing German crews to fight at close range where American advantages in rate of fire and crew coordination could be decisive.
Willingness to accept risk and lead from the front, inspiring subordinates and forcing enemy forces to deal with an aggressive threat that never gave them time to establish defensive positions or use their superior weapons effectively. These principles proven in the hedgeros of Normandy and the plains of France became foundational doctrine for American armored forces.
The aggressive close combat tactics that P pioneered influenced tank commander training throughout the cold war and into the modern era. The emphasis on crew training on developing the kind of synchronized precision that Pool’s crew demonstrated became central to American tank warfare doctrine. The understanding that superior tactics and training could overcome technical inferiority in equipment, proven conclusively by Pool’s combat record, shaped American military thinking about armored warfare for generations. Pool’s impact extended beyond tactical doctrine to the realm of
leadership and military culture. His refusal to accept a commission, choosing instead to fight from a tank rather than command from headquarters, demonstrated a commitment to leading from the front that became an ideal for military leaders at all levels.
His devotion to his crew, his paternal concern for their welfare, combined with his demanding standards for their performance, created a model of leadership that balanced care for subordinates with mission accomplishment. His aggressive pursuit of the enemy, tempered by tactical intelligence and careful positioning, showed that boldness need not mean recklessness, that aggression properly applied could be the safest course in combat.
The nickname war daddy captured something essential about Pool’s leadership style. He was simultaneously the protective father figure who ensured his crew received the best training, equipment, and support possible, and the aggressive warrior who led them into the most dangerous positions again and again.
His crew trusted him absolutely because they knew he would never ask them to do anything he wouldn’t do himself, would never send them into danger while he remained safe, would never sacrifice their lives carelessly or for meaningless objectives. That trust built through months of training and validated in dozens of combat engagements created a bond between P and his crew that death could not break.
The crew members who survived P’s 83 days of combat carried his lessons and his memory throughout their lives. Wilbert Richards, the dimminionive driver who could maneuver a Sherman through impossible positions, returned to civilian life after the war, but remained in contact with other crew members and attended third armored division reunions whenever possible.
Bertrand Close, the teenage bow gunner who had proven so deadly with his machine gun, similarly returned home and built a life shaped by his experiences in Pool’s crew. Delbert Bogs, the loader whose speed and reliability had given Pool’s tank its exceptional rate of fire, carried the memory of his time as a pup throughout his postwar life.
Willis Ol, who had been transferred back to the United States and thus escaped the final battle that killed Paul Kenneth King and wounded P, lived with the complex emotions of survivors guilt and relief. He had been Pool’s gunner for most of the 83-day combat period, had fired the shots that destroyed dozens of enemy vehicles, had been part of the most successful tank crew in American history.
His temporary transfer saved his life, but meant he was not there when his crew needed him most. When his replacement, Paul Kenneth King, died in the turret where Ola normally served. Paul Kenneth King, the young replacement gunner from Anderson County, Tennessee, who served with Pool’s crew for only one mission, became in death a symbol of the random nature of combat casualties.
King was experienced, capable, had survived previous combat with other crews. He had the misfortune to be filling in for er on September 19th, 1944 when the German Panther found its target. King’s death at age 20 in Pool’s tank during what was supposed to be a safe mission before P went home illustrated the truth that P had understood from the beginning.
In war, safety is an illusion. The broader impact of P’s combat service on the outcome of World War II is difficult to quantify, but significant. The 258 enemy vehicles P’s crew destroyed represented equipment that could not be used against other American units.
German soldiers who could not continue fighting and morale effects on both sides that extended far beyond the immediate tactical situation. Every German tank pool destroyed was one less threat to American infantry advancing through French villages. Every German halftrack or truck eliminated meant fewer German soldiers could be transported to defensive positions.
Every anti-tank gun knocked out saved American lives. But perhaps more importantly, P’s example inspired other American tankers to fight more aggressively, to take calculated risks, to close with German armor rather than engaging from standoff distances. The cumulative effect of thousands of American tank commanders applying P’s principles, even imperfectly, multiplied his tactical impact across the entire European theater.
The transformation in American armored tactics that occurred during the summer and fall of 1944 as units learned to fight more aggressively and effectively against German armor owed something to P’s demonstrated success. The Third Armored Division’s combat record reflected P’s influence.
The division spearheaded the advance from Normandy to Germany, covering more ground and destroying more enemy equipment than most other American armored divisions. The division’s aggressive tactics, its willingness to take risks and push deep into German territory, created a culture of offensive action that P exemplified.
While many factors contributed to the division’s success, the example set by its most successful tank commander certainly played a role in shaping the division’s combat ethos. Pool’s story also illustrates the larger narrative of American success in World War II. The United States entered the war with equipment that was in many ways inferior to German weapons.
The Sherman tank was outgunned and underarmed compared to German Panthers and Tigers. American soldiers were often less experienced than their German opponents who had been fighting since 1939. German tactical doctrine developed through years of combat experience was in many ways superior to American doctrine at the beginning of the campaign.
But America possessed advantages that ultimately proved decisive. Industrial capacity that could produce 49,000 Sherman tanks to Germany’s 6,000 Panthers meant that American forces could replace losses that were catastrophic for German units. Training systems that emphasized crew coordination and combined arms operations meant that American units, while perhaps less individually skilled than elite German formations, fought more effectively as teams.
A culture that valued initiative and aggressive action at all levels meant that men like P could rise to prominence based on demonstrated ability rather than aristocratic background or party connections. P embodied these American advantages.
He was a farm boy from Texas with no military heritage or social connections who rose to become the most effective tank commander in American history through skill, aggression, and leadership. His crew drawn from across America represented the diversity that Nazi ideology claimed was a weakness, but that proved to be a strength. Together, they demonstrated that superior tactics, training, and determination could overcome technical inferiority and equipment.
The contrast between Pool’s approach to tank combat and typical German tactics illuminates different military cultures and philosophies. German armor doctrine emphasized the technical superiority of their vehicles, encouraging tank commanders to engage from long range where their superior guns and armor provided decisive advantages.
German training focused on individual skill and technical proficiency. German military culture valued following orders and maintaining formation discipline. Pool’s approach inverted these principles. He negated German technical advantages by closing to ranges where they became irrelevant. He emphasized crew coordination over individual skill, understanding that five men working in perfect synchronization could outfight five individually skilled men working independently.
He valued initiative and aggressive action over formation discipline, often operating alone or with minimal support rather than waiting for coordinated attacks with other units. These contrasting approaches reflected broader differences between American and German military culture.
The German military, shaped by centuries of Prussian tradition, valued hierarchy, discipline, and technical excellence. The American military, shaped by frontier tradition and democratic values, valued initiative, adaptability, and practical results. P succeeded because he embodied the American approach and applied it ruthlessly against an enemy shaped by different values.
The ultimate vindication of P’s tactical philosophy came in the broader outcome of the war. German technical superiority in tank design did not prevent German defeat. The technically superior panthers and Tigers that dominated German armor production in 1944 and 1945 could not compensate for Germany’s industrial weakness, strategic overextension, and the accumulated effects of years of combat losses.
American Shermans, derided by some historians as inferior death traps, played a crucial role in defeating Germany by applying superior numbers, better crew training, and more aggressive tactics. P’s story complicates simplistic narratives about American tank warfare in World War II. The Sherman has been portrayed in popular culture as a poorly designed death trap that got American soldiers killed through inferior firepower and armor protection. This narrative contains some truth.
The Sherman was outgunned and underarmed compared to German medium and heavy tanks. American tank crews did suffer high casualties and many Sherman tanks were destroyed in combat. But P’s record demonstrates that the Sherman in the hands of a well-trained aggressive crew was a highly effective combat vehicle.
Pool destroyed 258 enemy vehicles, including 12 tanks, while fighting from three different Shermans over 83 days. He survived three complete tank losses and continued fighting effectively after each one. His crew’s success rate far exceeded anything achieved by crews in technically superior German tanks.
The lesson is clear. In armored warfare, as in most aspects of combat, the quality of the crew matters more than the specifications of the machine. This lesson has implications beyond World War II tank combat. In every era of warfare, military establishments struggle with the balance between technical excellence in equipment and effective training of personnel.
The temptation always exists to seek technological solutions to tactical problems, to believe that superior equipment can compensate for inferior training or poor tactics. Pool’s record stands as a permanent reputation of that belief. The best equipment in the world in the hands of a poorly trained or timidly led crew will lose to inferior equipment used aggressively by well-trained soldiers.
Modern armies still study Pool’s combat record and extract lessons applicable to contemporary warfare. The principles P demonstrated remain relevant in an era of computerized fire control systems, composite armor, and guided munitions. Aggressive maneuver to close with the enemy and fight at ranges that negate their advantages.
Superior crew training that emphasizes coordination and rapid decision-making. Leadership that inspires confidence and maintains morale under the most difficult conditions. These principles transcend specific technologies and tactical situations. The tank driver training simulator hall at Fort Knox, dedicated to Pool’s memory, ensures that these lessons continue to reach new generations of American tankers.
Every soldier who trains at Fort Knox learns about Lafayette Pool, about his tactics, his leadership, and his combat record. The SSG Lafayette Gool room serves as both memorial and classroom. A place where Pool’s legacy lives on through the education of soldiers who will fight in conflicts he could never have imagined with weapons he could never have conceived.
Pool’s story also serves as a reminder of the human cost of war and the arbitrary nature of combat survival. Pool survived 83 days of combat, three tank losses, dozens of close calls where German rounds missed by inches or failed to penetrate when they should have. He destroyed hundreds of enemy vehicles and killed over a thousand enemy soldiers.
But in the end, he lost his leg to German fire and watched his replacement gunner die in what was supposed to be a safe mission before going home. The randomness of who lives and who dies in combat, the way survival often depends more on luck than skill, pervades Paul’s story. Paul Kenneth King’s death on September 19th, 1944 while serving in Willis Ol’s position as Pool’s gunner emphasizes this randomness. King was not P’s regular crew member.
He was filling in because Ol had been transferred back to the United States. King was experienced and capable, had survived previous combat, but he happened to be in Pool’s tank on the day when a German Panther’s aim was true. If Ola had been there, he might have died instead.
Or perhaps Ola’s greater experience with Pool’s crew would have made some small difference in the battle that would have changed the outcome. These questions have no answers. King died, Oair lived, and both outcomes were ultimately the result of decisions made by army personnel officers who had no way of knowing the consequences of their routine administrative actions.
Pool’s own survival through 83 days of combat, followed by his wounding on what was supposed to be his safest day, carries similar ironies. He survived when he was most exposed, standing in the open turret, leading spearhead attacks, closing to point blank range with German armor. He was wounded when he was supposed to stay on the flank, avoid danger, survive one more day before going home.
The lesson, if there is one, is that in combat, there are no safe positions, no ways to guarantee survival except not being there at all. Pool understood this truth from the beginning. Safety is an illusion. The only way to survive is to fight aggressively, to shoot first, to close with the enemy and destroy them before they can destroy you.
This philosophy kept P alive for 83 days and made him the most successful American tank commander in history. It also cost him his leg and killed one of his crew members. Whether the price was worth paying depends on perspective. From a purely tactical standpoint, P’s combat service was extraordinarily valuable to the American war effort.
From a personal standpoint, Paid a heavy price for his success and lived with the consequences for nearly 50 years. Both truths coexist without contradiction. Pool’s decision to reinlist in 1948 and continue serving in the army despite his disability suggests he found meaning and purpose in his military service that transcended the physical and emotional costs.
He had been transformed by his war experience from a Texas farm boy into a soldier, from a soldier into a tank commander, from a tank commander into a legend. The army became his identity, his career, his life’s work. Returning to civilian life, to farming or engineering or some other ordinary occupation, must have seemed impossible for a man who had experienced what pool experienced, accomplished what pool accomplished, and survived what pool survived.
His 19 years of military service from 1941 to 1960 spanned America’s transformation from an isolationist nation with a small peacetime army to a global superpower with worldwide military commitments. P enlisted before Pearl Harbor when the army was still training with wooden rifles and obsolete equipment. He retired during the Cold War when the army was equipped with nuclear weapons and deployed across the globe.
He witnessed and participated in the most significant expansion and transformation of American military power in history. His death in 1991, just months before the Soviet Union collapsed and the Cold War ended, closed a chapter of American military history that he had helped write.
The veterans of World War II, men like P, who had fought to defeat fascism and preserve democracy, were beginning to pass away in large numbers by the early 1990s. Their generation had literally saved the world from Nazi tyranny, had rebuilt Europe and Japan through the Marshall Plan and occupation policies, had established the international order that defined the second half of the 20th century.
Pool’s generation tested in the crucible of total war proved that democracy could fight and win against totalitarianism that free societies could match the military effectiveness of dictatorships that American values were worth fighting and dying for. P’s legacy embodied in his combat record, his leadership example, and the soldiers he trained during his post-war service continues to influence American military culture.
The aggressive tactics he pioneered remain central to American armored doctrine. The emphasis on crew training and coordination that he demonstrated continues to define American tank warfare. The model of leadership he provided combining paternal care for subordinates with demanding standards and personal example remains an ideal for military leaders at all levels.
But perhaps P’s most important legacy is simpler and more personal. He proved that an ordinary American, a farm boy from Texas with no special advantages or privileges, could through courage, skill, and determination become extraordinary. He demonstrated that leadership emerges from character and action, not birth or rank.
He showed that in the ultimate test of combat, what matters is not the weapon you carry, but the courage you possess and the training you have mastered. These lessons transcend military service and speak to broader American values about individual achievement, democratic opportunity, and the potential for ordinary people to accomplish extraordinary things.
Lafayette Greenpool, War Daddy, the Texas farm boy who became America’s deadliest tank commander, earned his place in military history through 83 days of combat that remain unmatched in American armored warfare. His story preserved in military records, survivor accounts, and now in popular culture through films and memorials, continues to inspire and instruct.
The lessons he taught through his example about aggressive action, superior training, and effective leadership remain relevant decades after his death. His legacy lives on in every American tanker who learns his story, studies his tactics, and strives to match his example of courage under fire and devotion to duty. In the end, P’s story is about more than tanks and tactics, more than kill counts and combat records.
It is about the transformation of a young man from a farm in South Texas into a warrior who would lead from the front, fight with unmatched aggression, and inspire generations of soldiers. It is about the bond between crew members who trusted each other with their lives and fought as one unit through months of unrelenting combat. It is about the cost of war measured in legs lost and lives ended and families forever changed.
It is about an America that could take farm boys and college students, factory workers and teachers, and forge them into the military force that defeated fascism and preserved democracy. Lafayette pools 258 destroyed enemy vehicles. His 12 confirmed tank kills, his 1,000 enemy soldiers killed, his 250 prisoners captured. These numbers tell part of his story.
But the complete story includes his refusal to accept a commission so he could fight from a tank, his devotion to his crew and their absolute trust in his leadership, his survival through three tank losses, and his determination to continue fighting after each one. his decision to reinlist despite his disability and serve for another 12 years.
His influence on generations of American tankers who learned his tactics and studied his example. His loss of his son to war in Vietnam, connecting his World War II service to the next generation’s conflict. His death in 1991, having witnessed America’s victory in the Cold War that followed the hot war where he made his name. The complete story is about a life defined by service, sacrifice, and leadership.
It is about a man who found his calling in the chaos of combat, who discovered that he possessed gifts for tactical thinking and aggressive action that made him exceptional. It is about the price of those gifts paid in pain and blood and the deaths of men who fought beside him.
It is about a legacy that extends far beyond his own life, influencing military doctrine, inspiring soldiers, and demonstrating the potential of ordinary Americans to become extraordinary when tested by the ultimate challenge of combat. Lafayette Greenpool, Staff Sergeant, United States Army, Chief Warrant Officer, two retired holder of the Distinguished Service Cross, Legion of Merit, Silver Star, Purple Heart, Belgian Forair, and French Legion of Honor, destroyer of 258 enemy vehicles in 83 days of combat.
America’s deadliest tank commander, war daddy to his crew and legend to the army he served, died May 30th, 1991 in Khen, Texas. He was 71 years old. He left behind his wife Evelyn, eight children, and a military legacy that will endure as long as armies study the art of armored warfare. His story from a farm in South Texas to the battlefields of France to the memorial hall at Fort Knox represents the best of American military tradition.
Courage in combat, devotion to duty, leadership by example, sacrifice for country. These values embodied in P’s life and service continue to inspire and instruct. War Daddy’s War may have ended on September 19th, 1944, but his legacy endures.