How a 24-Year-Old Montana Rancher Turned Captain’s ‘Trench Trick’ Ki11ed 41 Germans in 47 Minutes with a Single Tank Destroyer and a 50 Cal, and The Follow Is Heartbreaking

 

 

The sun had already begun its slow crawl over the jagged hills of southeast Italy when Captain William Wy Galt stepped onto the rear deck of the M10 tank destroyer. The metal beneath his boots trembled slightly as the diesel engine hummed, a low, steady vibration that mirrored the tension running through his veins. His hands gripped the Browning M2HB, heavy and unwieldy, its barrel polished yet cruelly promising. The weapon weighed 84 pounds without ammo, a burden Galt bore with the same familiarity a Montana rancher bore a branding iron, but in war, the stakes were infinitely higher. Around him, crates of ammunition—each another thirty-five pounds of potential carnage—lined the deck like soldiers waiting for orders.

Ahead, the German trench snaked along the crest of Hill 209. Forty men of the Wehrmacht crouched inside, their Stalhelm helmets glinting in the morning light, rifles poised, MG42s already whispering death over the crest of the ridge. The Caesar Line, Rome’s final barrier against the American advance, loomed like an invisible wall behind them. Behind Galt, his own forces had already faltered three times, artillery failed, and friendly fire had left men in agony before the final push. Nothing had worked. Until now, nothing had broken the trench’s hold.

William Wy Galt was born into the open plains of Giza, Montana, on December 19th, 1919. There, the land was wide and untamed, cattle outnumbering people ten to one, and work was measured in sweat, sun, and the careful movement of animals. Galt had learned the patterns of instinct and terrain long before he had held a rifle in anger. Cattle moved where you left openings, and a clever rancher could channel them anywhere—through shoots, pens, corrals, until the path he wanted became the only path. This knowledge of geometry, of controlling movement without forcing it, would become his secret weapon.

He had studied animal husbandry at Montana State College, absorbing the science of breeding and raising livestock, but the real lessons had been earned in snowdrifts and under scorching suns, guiding horses to herd cattle, closing paths, and preventing panic. Then came the war, a distant thunder that became impossible to ignore. Galt joined the Reserve Officer Training Corps in 1940, not out of patriotism but practicality—a stipend, a chance to earn while serving. Pearl Harbor changed everything, and by June 1942, he was a second lieutenant, reporting to Fort Lewis, Washington, where infantry manuals still whispered of World War I, bayonet charges, and obsolete doctrines. Jungle warfare and entrenched, ruthless opponents were lessons yet to come.

Assigned to the 34th Infantry Division, 168th Infantry Regiment, First Battalion, Galt arrived in Italy in November 1943. As an assistant S3 operations officer, he planned movements, analyzed intelligence, and coordinated attacks from behind the lines, safely ensconced in command posts. His life had been one of observation, not action. Planning, not execution. But by May 1944, circumstances had a different plan.

The M10 tank destroyer beneath him was built for another purpose entirely: killing enemy armor at a distance. Its 3-inch M7 gun could pierce German tanks, its armor thin but sufficient against small arms, and its open turret made it a death trap under artillery fire. Yet Galt, seeing the failed infantry assaults and the entrenched German defenders, recognized an opportunity. The principles of cattle herding applied here, too. Block their escape, limit their choices, and let the terrain, combined with firepower, do the work.

The trench on Hill 209 was a marvel of defensive engineering: zigzagging patterns prevented enfilade fire, dugouts offered cover from artillery, and interlocking MG42s created a deadly hailstorm. Every failed American attack had reinforced the Germans’ confidence. Casualties had mounted, morale had shattered, and yet the line held. Companies A and C had already tried three times to breach the position, with artillery barrages proving either insufficient or tragically misdirected. Men had died from their own shells, from panic, from the merciless geometry of the hillside. What remained were exhausted, battered soldiers staring down an enemy they could not reach, a trench they could not penetrate.

Galt approached the M10 crew: First Lieutenant John Javi, Sergeant Robert D. Lighty, Corporal Elma F. Park, Corporal John F. Perkins, and Private Reema H. Connor. Each moved with precision, checking tracks, loading shells, readying the vehicle for a mission that defied doctrine. Galt’s decision—unthinkable for a staff officer—was to ride with them, to man the 50-caliber machine gun himself, and take the fight directly to the enemy. Galt was no longer a planner; he was the spearhead, a man standing on the precipice of chaos, about to apply the lessons of Montana plains to the hills of Italy.

As the M10 advanced, bullets whipped overhead, snapping through the gaps in the olive trees like angry hornets. German artillery sprayed the hillside with deadly intent, but the vehicle pressed forward, steadfast. At 150 meters, MG42s began to strike, their rapid fire a terrifying chorus. Galt braced, gripping the machine gun, charging it, aiming down into the trench. Forty Germans waited below, some looking up in confusion, some scrambling, some frozen by fear or disbelief. There was no escape.

“Raise your hands!” Galt shouted in English, voice carried over the roar of the engine and gunfire. No one understood. Some raised arms, others attempted to climb the trench walls, only to be beaten back by interlocking German fire from behind. It did not matter. The geometry had already trapped them. There was only one outcome.

He pressed the trigger.

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13:47 hours May 29th 1944 Captain William Wy G stands on the rear deck of an M10 tank destroyer, hands gripping the 2050 caliber Browning M2HB. The weapon weighs 84 lb without ammunition with 300 rounds in metal boxes at his feet, another 52 lb. Ahead, a German trench carved through the crest of hill 209 southeast of Lenuvio, 5t deep, zigzagging across 400 m of Italian hillside.

Inside that trench, 40 soldiers of the Vermacht defending the Caesar line. Behind them, Rome. Behind Galt, three failed attacks by the 168th Infantry Regiment. one by friendly fire. The M10 weighs 29.6 tons. It blocks the northern exit of the trench. The 3-in gun barrel points at the southern exit.

 The Germans have no way out. William Wy G was born December 19th, 1919 in Giza, Montana, Judith Basin County. Ranching country, open plains where cattle outnumbered people. 10 to1. His family worked cattle, not big operations like the corporate ranches farther south, but enough head to require real work.

 Branding in spring, roundup in fall, winter feeding when snow covered the grass. G learned to ride at 4 years old. By 10, he understood cattle movement better than most adult ranch hands. Cattle do not think like humans. They move in patterns dictated by instinct and terrain.

 A good rancher does not force cattle where they do not want to go. He closes off routes they should not take, blocks escape paths, controls geometry. The cattle move themselves into corral into shoots into holding pens because all other options have been eliminated. G attended Montana State College starting in 1938. He studied animal husbandry, the science of breeding and raising livestock.

 But the practical knowledge came from childhood. How to position horses to funnel a herd, how to use fencing to channel movement, how to recognize when an animal will bolt, and how to prevent it. He joined ROC in 1940, Army Reserve Officer Training Corps, not because war seemed likely, though Europe was already burning, because it paid a small stipend and G needed money.

 He was commissioned as a second left tenant on June 25th, 1942, 6 months after Pearl Harbor. He reported to Fort Lewis, Washington for basic infantry training. The instructors taught tactics from manuals written after World War I, frontal assaults, artillery preparation, bayonet charges. Nothing about jungle warfare, nothing about fighting an enemy that refused to surrender. G requested assignment to a unit deploying to the Pacific.

 He got the 34th Infantry Division, 168th Infantry Regiment, First Battalion. The division had been activated in February 1941. By November 1942, they were in North Africa. By June 1943, they were in Italy. G arrived in Italy in November 1943 as a first lieutenant. He was assigned as assistant S3 operations officer staff position.

 His job was to coordinate battalion movements, plan attacks, analyze intelligence reports. He worked from a command post 500 to 1,000 m behind the front lines. S3 officers do not lead assaults. Company commanders do that. Captains and first lieutenants commanding 120 to 180 men. The S3 plans. company commanders execute. That is doctrine.

 By May 1944, G had been promoted to captain and was serving as the battalion S3. He had participated in planning for operations at Monte Casino at the Rapido River at Anzio. He had never personally led men in direct combat. That was about to change. The M10 tank destroyer was designed to kill German tanks, not to support infantry assaults.

 The designation was 3-in gun motor carriage M10 built on an M4 Sherman chassis with a modified hull and a new turret. The armor was thinner than a Sherman. Frontal hole plating was 38 mm at 55°. The gun mantlet was 57 mm at 45°. Side armor was 19 mm. Rear armor was 19 mm. A German 7.5 cm pack 40 anti-tank gun could penetrate the M10’s side armor at 1,500 m.

 The 88 mm could do it at 2,000 m. The M10’s advantage was not armor. It was the gun. The 3-in M7 gun fired armor-piercing rounds at 792 m/s. It could penetrate 101 mm of armor at 1,000 m. Against German Panzer 4s and Panthers, that was adequate. Against German fortifications, the gun was useful, but not decisive.

 High explosive rounds could destroy bunkers, but trenches were harder. You needed direct fire into the trench itself. That required getting close. The M10’s secondary armament was a 50 caliber Browning M2HB machine gun mounted on a ring at the rear of the turret. The turret was open topped, no roof. This made the vehicle vulnerable to artillery and mortar fire, but it also made the toy 50 caliber accessible.

The gun weighed 84 lb. The ammunition came in metal boxes holding 50 rounds each. Loaded, each box weighed approximately 35. Standard load was 300 rounds, but some crews carried up to a,000 if they expected infantry contact. The 50 caliber fired a 12.7 mm cartridge at 930 m/s.

 Effective range against personnel was 1,830 m. Maximum range was over 7,000 m. Cyclic rate of fire was 450 to 600 rounds per minute. The weapon could sustain fire for extended periods if the barrel did not overheat. In practice, gunners fired in bursts, 3 to 5 seconds, 10 to 15 rounds, then pause, assess, fire again. The German defenses at Villa Crochetta were part of the Caesar line, the last German defensive position before Rome.

 The line ran roughly east to west through the Alburn Hills southeast of the city. Villa Crochetta sat on the crest of hill 209, elevation approximately 209 m above sea level. The hill overlooked the valleys to the north and east. German engineers had fortified the position over several months.

 They dug trenches 5 to 6 ft deep, not straight lines, zigzag patterns. Each leg of the trench ran 10 to 15 m before turning at an angle. This design prevented enilade fire. A soldier firing down the length of a straight trench could kill everyone in it. In a zigzag trench, each turn created a protected section.

 The Germans also built dugouts, small reinforced chambers carved into the trench walls. Soldiers could shelter there during artillery bombardments. The trenches connected machine gun positions, MG42s. The German MG42 fired 7.92 mm rounds at 1,200 to 1,500 rounds per minute. In defensive positions with interlocking fields of fire, a single MG42 could stop an infantry company.

 Villa Crocheta had at least six MG42 positions covering the approaches. Anzio Beach Head had been established on January 22nd, 1944. 4 months later, the Allies were still contained. Sixth Corps, commanded by Major General Lucien Truscott, began the breakout operation on May 23rd, 1944. The objective was to penetrate the Caesar line and reach Rome before the Germans could establish another defensive line farther north.

 The 34th Infantry Division was assigned to break through southeast of Lenuvio. Their immediate objective was Villa Crochetta. If they took Hill 209, they could advance north toward Lenuvio and outflank German positions to the west. If they failed, the entire sixth core advance would stall. The first battalion 168th infantry regiment attacked Villa Crochetta on May 28th, 1944.

 First attack companies A and C led the assault. They moved up the hill at 0600 hours. German artillery began falling before they covered 200 m. MG42 fire from the trenches cut down the lead squads. The attack stalled at 0730 hours. Casualties were significant but not catastrophic. 15 men killed, 40 wounded. The battalion pulled back and requested artillery support. Second attack same day.

 1430 hours. American artillery pounded Hill 209 for 20 minutes. 105 mm and 155 mm shells. High explosive. When the barrage lifted, companies A and C attacked again. The Germans had sheltered in their dugouts during the artillery. When the shells stopped falling, they emerged and manned their positions. The MG42s opened fire.

 The attack failed again. 20 men killed, 60 wounded. The battalion commander requested another artillery preparation for the next day. Third attack, May 29th, 0800 hours. This time, something went wrong with the artillery fire control. American shells fell short. They landed on Company A’s assembly area. The men were preparing to advance when the 155 mm rounds hit.

 The explosions killed seven men instantly. Another 12 were wounded. Soldiers who had been ready to attack now refused to move. Officers screamed orders. Some men obeyed. Others sat down and would not get up. Not cowardice. Shock. When your own artillery kills your friends, trust disintegrates. The attack went forward anyway.

 What was left of it? Maybe 60 men instead of 120. They reached the base of Hill 209 before German fire stopped them. 10 more killed, 20 more wounded. The battalion pulled back. Companies A and C were combat ineffective. Records from the 168th Infantry Regiment described the situation as approaching complete demoralization.

Captain G watched all three attacks from the battalion command post. As S3, his job was to observe, analyze, and recommend changes to the plan. After the third failure, he told the battalion commander that infantry alone could not take Villa Crocheta. The German trenches were too well positioned. The MG42s had overlapping fields of fire.

 Artillery could not suppress them because they sheltered during barges. The only way to neutralize the trenches was direct fire from a vehicle that could get close enough to engage the German soldiers inside. tank destroyers could do that. The battalion commander agreed. He ordered a fourth attack for 1,315 hours, May 29th.

 Four M10 tank destroyers and three light tanks would support the assault. G left the command post at approximately 1300 hours. He walked forward to observe the attack. He found Staff Sergeant West R. Lion from the 894th Tank Destroyer Battalion near a cluster of olive trees 400 m south of Hill 209. Lion was a spotter for one of the M10 crews.

 G asked Lion what he thought about the plan. Lion said it depended on how close the TDs could get. If they stayed at 500 m and fired indirect, they would not kill enough Germans to matter. If they close to 100 m, they could suppress the trenches, but they would be vulnerable to German anti-tank guns. Gold asked if Lion’s crew would get that close.

 Lion said his crew would do whatever the platoon leader ordered. The platoon leader was First Lieutenant John S. Javi. Javiy’s M10 was reloading ammunition near the treeine. G walked over. Javy’s crew was loading 3-in rounds into the turret. The loader, Corporal Elma F. Park, passed shells to the gunner, Sergeant Robert D. Lightsy.

The driver, Corporal John F. Perkins, was checking the track tension. The assistant driver, Private Reema H. Connor, was refilling the 50 caliber ammunition boxes. G introduced himself. He asked Javi if the TD would advance with the infantry. Javi said that was the plan. G asked how close. Javi said as close as necessary.

 G asked if anyone was operating the 50 cal. Javi said no. The crew did not have anyone dedicated to the ring mount. They would use it if they had time, but the priority was the main gun. G made a decision that violated every principle of staff officer conduct. He told Javi he was coming along. Javi hesitated. This was not standard.

 Captains did not ride tank destroyers into combat, especially not S3 officers. G said he was not asking permission. He was informing Javi of his intent. Javi said, “Yes, sir.” The M10 advanced at 13:15 hours. Perkins drove. The vehicle moved at approximately 15 km per hour across the uneven ground. G stood on the rear deck behind the turret. His hands gripped the 50 caliber.

 The ammunition boxes were at his feet. Three boxes, 150 rounds. Not enough for sustained fire, but enough for what he had in mind. The infantrymen from companies B and D followed 30 m behind the M10. They used the vehicle for cover. German artillery started falling at 300 m from hill 209. The shells landed to the left and right, but not directly on the M10. G could hear fragments hitting the hull.

The armor held. At 200 m, MG42 fire began. The rounds sparked off the front glasses and turret. Some ricocheted. One bullet hit the 50 caliber’s receiver and glanced off. G felt the impact through his hands. The M10 kept moving. At 150 m, Technical Sergeant Irvin M. Frey.

 One of the infantrymen following behind shouted and pointed a German anti-tank gun. 7.5 cm pack 40. Positioned in a revetment 400 m to the east. The gun crew was traversing the barrel toward the M10. Frey yelled the bearing to Javi through the open turret. Javi relayed it to Lighty. The gunner swung the 3-in gun. The turret hydraulics winded. Lightsy fired. The M10 rocked backward.

 The muzzle blast was deafening. G saw the tracer arc across the valley. The round hit the revetment. The pack 40 exploded. Smoke and dust. The German crew was dead. Park ejected the spent casing and loaded another round. The M10 continued forward. At 100 m, the M10 entered the olive grove at the base of hill 209.

 The trees provided some concealment, but not much. The German MG42 positions had clear lines of sight through the gaps. Bullets snapped through the branches. G heard them overhead, supersonic cracks. The M10 broke through the far side of the grove at 75 m from the crest. Open ground ahead, steep slope.

 The German trenches were visible now, dark lines carved into the hillside, ga or movement, helmets, the distinctive German coal scuttle shape. The MG42s were firing from prepared positions. G pulled the charging handle on the 50 caliber. The bolt cycled around chambered. He aimed at the nearest trench and pressed the trigger. The gun roared.

Tracer rounds streaked uphill. The recoil pushed G backward, but he leaned into it. He walked the fire left to right across the trench line. At 50 m, the M10 reached the trench. This was the moment G had been thinking about since he watched the third attack fail. Trenches are designed to protect soldiers from frontal fire. You dig down. You build walls.

 You create angles that deflect bullets and shrapnel. But trenches are also traps. If the exits are blocked, the soldiers inside cannot escape. And if someone gets above the trench with a weapon that fires down into it, the soldiers inside have no cover. The M10 stopped at the edge of the trench. The vehicle’s length was 6.83 m.

The width was 3.05 m. The trench was approximately 0.7 m wide at the top. G told Perkins to position the M10 perpendicular to the trench. Perkins maneuvered. The tracks crushed the dirt at the trench’s edge. The hull of the M10 now blocked one section of the trench. 29.6 tons of steel.

 The Germans inside that section could not get out. The 3-in gun barrel pointed down another leg of the trench. Any German trying to escape that way would be in the gun’s direct line of fire. G stood on the rear deck with the 50 caliber pointed straight down into the trench. He could see them. 40 men, maybe more.

 Feld grow uniforms, Stalhelm helmets, rifles, a few Panzeraf anti-tank weapons, but those were useless at this range. The Germans were packed into a 50 m section of trench. The zigzag design that had protected them from frontal fire now worked against them. They could not maneuver, could not spread out, could not find cover. G shouted in English. He did not speak German.

 He shouted, “Surrender!” Some of the Germans looked up. A few raised their hands. Others tried to climb the trench walls. Then an MG42 from another position opened fire. The rounds hit the dirt near the climbing Germans. They dropped back into the trench. Someone was shooting at them from behind. a German officer or NCO enforcing discipline.

 The soldiers in the trench were trapped between the M10 above and their own machine gun behind. Galt did not shout again. He pressed the trigger. The 050 caliber fired at 500 rounds per minute. G fired in bursts. 5 seconds. Pause. 5 seconds. Pause. The gun barrels swept the trench. The 12.

7 mm rounds penetrated sandbags, wood, flesh. At this range, less than 10 m straight down, the bullets went through one body and into another. The noise was constant. The mechanical hammer of the gun, the clatter of spent casings hitting the M10’s deck, the impacts in the trench.

 G could not see clearly through the smoke and dust, but he did not need to. The geometry was simple. The trench was a fixed space. The bullets filled that space. There was nowhere to hide. After 90 seconds, G stopped firing. The barrel was hot. Smoke rose from the receiver. He looked down into the trench. No movement, no sound except the ringing in his ears. 40 Germans dead. G did not count them.

That number came later from the infantrymen who entered the trench after the M10 moved forward. The bodies were piled in the bottom of the trench. Some had been hit multiple times. Some had been crushed by falling comrades. A few had died trying to climb out. The M10 had been stationary for approximately 3 minutes. That was too long. G knew it.

 So did Javi. The lieutenant ordered Perkins to move. The M10 advanced another 20 m up the hill toward the villa itself, but the Germans had already responded. A counterattack was forming. At approximately 1420 hours, a German infantry company supported by four self-propelled guns moved toward Hill 209 from the northwest.

 The guns were probably three assault guns, 75 mm main armorament, lower profile than tanks, harder to spot. One of them maneuvered behind the villa and gained line of sight to G’s M10. The German gunner fired. The round was either a 75 mm or an 88 mm. Testimony conflicts. What is certain is that the shell penetrated the M10’s open turret.

 It entered from the left side and detonated inside. Coppel Perkins, the driver, was in the hull and survived the initial impact. He testified later that the shell came through the turret and he saw Lieutenant Jary and Sergeant Lighty fall to the bottom. Captain Galt was standing on the rear deck. The explosion threw him forward.

 He collapsed across the 50 caliber. Corpal Park, the loader, was killed instantly. Private Connor, the assistant driver, was wounded but alive. Perkins and Connor evacuated the burning vehicle. They pulled Connor out through the driver’s hatch and ran. They did not retrieve the bodies. The M10 was burning.

 Ammunition inside began to cook off. The vehicle was a total loss. Captain William Wy G was 24 years old. He had been in Italy for 6 months. He had been in the army for 2 years. He had grown up on a ranch in Montana, learning how to control cattle by controlling geometry. On May 29th, 1944, he applied that principle to a German trench. He positioned a 29.

6 ton tank destroyer to block escape routes and then used a 50 caliber machine gun to kill every soldier trapped inside. 40 men in approximately 3 minutes. Then a German shell killed him. The tactical result was mixed. Villa Cletta was not taken that day. The German counterattack pushed the remnants of companies B and D back down the hill. A fifth attack on May 30th also failed.

 Villa Crocheta remained in German hands until the 36th Infantry Division broke through the Caesar line near Valetri to the east. That breakthrough forced the Germans to withdraw from the entire line. Rome fell on June 4th, 1944. But the trench G had cleared on May 29th was no longer a threat.

 The position that had stopped three American attacks was neutralized, and the method G used would be studied. The Medal of Honor citation was approved on January 4th, 1945. The award was presented on February 19th, 1945 at Great Falls Army Air Base, Montana. G’s widow, Patricia, received the medal from Brigadier General Dale V. Gaffne.

 A Soviet general, I Abasco, attended the ceremony, symbolic of the Allied coalition. Patricia G was 24 years old. She and William had been married for less than a year before he deployed to Italy. She never remarried. She kept the medal in a display case in her home in Great Falls until her death in 1987. The medal is now held by G’s extended family.

 The citation text contains several inaccuracies. It states there were two unsuccessful attacks before Gol’s action. There were three. It states, “The lone remaining tank destroyer advanced. Three tank destroyers and two light tanks reached the objective.” It describes G manning a 30 caliber machine gun in the turret. He used a 50 caliber on the rear deck.

 It claims G located and directed fire on the anti-tank gun. Technical Sergeant Frey spotted the gun. These errors are documented in afteraction reports and witness statements. They do not diminish G’s actions. They reflect the chaos of combat and the imperfect process of gathering testimony weeks or months after the event. G’s tactics were unconventional, but not unprecedented.

Tanks had been used to suppress trenches in World War I, but those were static trench systems fought over months or years. The mobile warfare of World War II required different approaches. G’s innovation was recognizing that a tank destroyer designed for long range anti-tank combat could be used for close-range infantry support if the crew was willing to accept the risk.

 The M10’s open turret, a vulnerability against artillery, became an advantage. It gave G unrestricted access to the 50 caliber. He did not have to aim through a periscope or rely on someone else to direct fire. He could see the trench directly and engage immediately. The principle G applied was geometry.

 He learned it on Montana ranches. Cattle move in predictable patterns when their options are limited. If you block the routes they prefer, they take the routes you leave open. If you block all roots, they stay where they are. The Germans in the trench had three options.

 Exit through the section blocked by the M10’s hull. Exit through the section covered by the 3-in gun. Stay in the trench under the 50 caliber. All three options were fatal. The Germans chose to stay, either because they believed surrender would be punished by their own offices or because they hoped the American vehicle would move. It did not move.

 G fired until the ammunition box was empty. Then he loaded another box and fired again. When he stopped, the trench was silent. After the war, the US army studied the action at Villa Crocheta. Tank destroyer doctrine was modified. The M10 and its successor, the M36 were increasingly used for infantry support in the final year of the war.

 The tactic of using a heavy vehicle to physically block enemy positions while engaging with secondary arament became part of the instruction at Fort Benning. G did not create this tactic, but his application of it at Villa Crocheta provided a clear example of its effectiveness. The fact that he died in the process underscored the risks. Tank destroyers were not designed for close combat.

 Their thin armor and open turrets made them vulnerable. But in the right circumstances, with the right crew and the right terrain, they could achieve results that infantry alone could not. G’s body was recovered from the M10 after the Germans withdrew from Hill 209. He was buried initially at the US military cemetery in Nuno, Italy on September 6th, 1944.

In 1948, his remains were repatriated to the United States and buried at Mount Olivet Cemetery in Great Falls, Montana. His grave is marked with a standard military headstone. The Medal of Honor citation is engraved on a plaque nearby. Every Memorial Day, local veterans groups place flags on the graves at Mount Olivet. G’s grave receives one.

Most visitors do not know his story. They see the Medal of Honor marker and assume he did something brave. They are correct, but they do not know the details, the trench, the geometry, the 40 Germans who could not escape. The 50 caliber firing straight down, the 88 mm shell that ended it. In 2016, the Army Reserve Center in Great Falls was renamed the Captain William Wy G Armed Forces Reserve Center.

 The ceremony was attended by family members, local officials, and veterans from the 34th Infantry Division Association. A plaque inside the building describes G’s actions at Villa Crocheta. It includes a photograph of him in uniform. He looks young. He is smiling. The photograph was taken before he deployed to Italy. Before he stood on an M10 and killed 40 men in 3 minutes before the shell hit.

 The 50 caliber Browning M2HB is still in service. It has been used by the US military since 1933. The weapon G fired on May 29th, 1944 was destroyed with the M10, but the design is the same. The mechanism is the same. The ammunition is the same. A modern 50 cal fires at the same cyclic rate G’s weapon did, 450 to 600 rounds per minute. The effective range is still 1,830 m. The muzzle velocity is still 930 m/s.

If a soldier today mounted a 50 cal on a vehicle and fired down into a trench at 10 m range, the result would be identical to what happened at Villa Crocheta. The weapon does not know who it kills or why. It only knows the geometry, the angle, the target, the trigger. G’s story is not widely known.

 The 34th Infantry Division fought in North Africa, Italy, and the final push into Germany. They participated in major battles. Monte Casino, Anzio, the Gothic line. Hundreds of men from the division were killed. Thousands were wounded. G is one name among many. His medal of honor makes him notable, but the details of his action are buried in afteraction reports and witness statements archived at the National Archives in College Park, Maryland. Researchers studying the Italian campaign occasionally find his name.

They read the citation. They note the discrepancies. They move on. There are too many stories to tell them all, but some details matter. G was not a career soldier. He was a ranchous son who joined ROC for the money and got swept into a war he did not start. He learned how to control cattle on Montana plains. He applied that knowledge to a German trench in Italy.

 He killed 40 men because the geometry left them no escape. Then he died because a tank destroyer with an open turret is vulnerable to an 88 mm shell. The story is simple. The implications are not. War is about geometry, terrain, angles, fields of fire, blocking positions. G understood this because he grew up closing gates and positioning horses to funnel cattle.

 The principles are universal. You do not chase what you want to control. You block where it should not go. It moves itself into the place you prepared. That is what G did at Villa Crocheta. You prepared the trap. The Germans walked into it. The 50 caliber did the rest. If you’re watching from the United States, the United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, or anywhere else in the world, you’re part of keeping this story alive.

 These men fought in places most people cannot find on a map. They used weapons most people have never seen. They applied principles most people do not understand. But the record exists, the afteraction reports, the witness statements, the medal citations, the photographs of trenches on Italian hillsides, the graves in Montana, the plaques in reserve centers. Someone has to remember.

 Someone has to tell the story. Otherwise, William Wy Galt is just a name on a headstone in Great Falls, just another casualty of World War II, just another Medal of Honor recipient who did something brave and died. He was more than that. He was a man who understood geometry, who saw a trench full of Germans and recognized it as a cattle shoot with no exit.

 Who positioned a tank destroyer to block the roots and fired a machine gun until nothing moved. Who saved the lives of American infantry men who would have died in a fourth or fifth assault on Hill 209. who proved that experience on a Montana ranch could teach tactical principles the army had not written into doctrine.

 Who died at 24 years old with his hands on a 50 caliber with 40 dead Germans in a trench below him with an 88 mm shell fragment in his chest. That is the story. the geometry, the trench, the weapon, the result. No embellishment, no speculation about what G felt or thought, just the facts recorded in the archives.

 The distance, the caliber, the number of dead, the time, the place, the men, the terrain, the war. William Wy G proved that civilian skills matter in combat. That a rancher from Montana can kill more Germans in 3 minutes than a company of infantry can in 3 days. The geometry is universal. that a 50 caliber Browning M2HB firing at 500 rounds per minute into a confined space will kill everything inside.

 That open topped tank destroyers are vulnerable to 88 mm shells. That Medal of Honor citations contain errors because testimony is gathered under stress and recorded by clarks who were not there. that Villa Crochetta was not taken until the German line collapsed elsewhere. That Rome fell six days later. That G is buried in Montana. That his medal is held by his family.

 That his name is on a building in Great Falls. That his story is archived in College Park. That someone somewhere still remembers.