‘A tremendous life’

WWII vet recalls the Battle of the Bulge, losing a limb in Germany

Call it a hunch, call it a sixth sense, call it Divine Providence. Whatever you call it, it saved Gerald Clark’s life that April night in Germany, 1945.

Up ’til that point, Clark says he was fortunate. He’d seen the Battle of the Bulge up close and personal. He was an armorer in the U.S. Army’s 290th infantry regiment of the 75th infantry division. That meant he could service every infantry weapon, from a .45 pistol to a 105 Howitzer.

He will never forget that winter in the Ardennes. The only way Clark knows to describe it is to say it was eerie. Low clouds and fog grounded the Allies’ air attack. Clark says you could only see just above the treetops. The Germans led a tremendous assault, but the Americans held on, literally praying for good weather.

“When the ceiling lifted, it was a very special experience for me,” Clark says.

Clark was on guard duty during the later part of the night. “By daybreak, the ceiling lifted in a strange kind of way. By (full) daylight, it was so clear, in every direction.”

He remembers that the sky filled with planes.

“The fighter planes were at the lower levels, working those Tiger tanks. At the higher levels were the bombing raids to Berlin. That was the big change in the Battle of the Bulge. We became the aggressors.”

When the Bulge ended in late January 1945, Clark’s group was sent across France to Colmar Pocket, then into Holland. Eventually, they crossed the Rhine River just south of Dusseldorf, Germany. Clark was assigned to a mine detail.

He will never forget April 2, 1945.

“I was on guard duty until 6 or 7 (p.m.) and then was awakened at midnight for a mine detail.”

He remembers being told that a road between two towns needed to be cleared. He remembers being told that they didn’t think the road had been mined.

“Here we went, sweeping for mines, keeping the Jeep as close as we could. Because if the Germans heard us, they would (fire off) mortar shells. The Jeep would be our only escape route. It was as dark as a stack of black cats.”

Clark remembers his sergeant was walking in front of the Jeep with two others. Clark couldn’t see him. That’s when he got the feeling.

“You had to watch out for yourself to a certain extent. I felt it in my bones, I guess. I leaned back to get out and that’s what saved my life.”

Clark raised his right leg to go over the side about the time the Jeep’s right wheel hit the mine. The Jeep went one way and everyone inside went the other way. Clark’s right leg was torn to pieces. The man riding in the passenger seat up front lost an eye and injured his arm. Everybody else in the back of the Jeep was OK. The sergeant and the two walking with him were killed instantly.

“I did a circle (in the air) and landed on my back. The first thing I felt was my back. I said to myself, ‘I think I’m OK.’ I started to get up and my leg, I couldn’t tell if it was there or not, to tell you the truth.”

His buddy Gerald Powers, also riding in the Jeep, put a tourniquet on his leg. A medical Jeep came to get him after about 15 or 20 minutes. He was at the aid station about 30 minutes after the explosion.

Clark remembers talking to a surgeon who looked big enough to be a linebacker.

“I said, ‘Doc, am I gonna make it?’ He said, ‘Soldier, you relax. You got a ticket home here!’ ”

Clark was airlifted from Germany to a field hospital in London. A doctor there gave him the bad news. Gangrene had set in. His right leg would have to be amputated.

“But the doctor did something that I will forever appreciate. He said, ‘I’m going to take that cast off and am gonna let you see that leg of yours, so you can see that it needs to come off. He was good as his word. My leg was black almost up to the knee.”

After London, Clark was sent to Lawson Military Hospital in Atlanta, where he underwent a reamputation. He was discharged on April 26, 1946.

He returned home to Del Rio, near Newport, Tenn. “On June 15, the lady in there,” he said, gesturing toward his wife, Bea, “and I got married.”

Now 85 years old, Clark says, “losing a limb was one of the better things that happened in my life. You have to be seriously disabled to relate to another disabled person.”

Clark retired from a 32-year career with TVA in 1983. He is a retired CPA and has served as an interim pastor. An ordained minister, he served as a chaplain for 20-plus years. He is a member of First Church of God in Knoxville. He and Bea have five children.

He joined the Disabled American Veterans 35 years ago and remains active. He is his chapter’s treasurer. The group met at the John T. O’Connor Senior Center before the city of Knoxville gave the chapter 3.2 acres on Holbrook Drive in Fountain City.

Clark wore a suction socket artificial limb for more than 63 years. But, due to an injury to his pelvis, it began to bother him, so he’s given it up. He uses crutches and gets around on either his scooter, golf cart or in a customized van.

Looking back on it all, Clark says that God has blessed him a hundred times over.

“I’ve lived a tremendous life.”