Germans Couldn’t Stop This ‘Modified’ Jeep — Until It Killed 400 of Them on the First Day
Eighteen Americans, One Modified Jeep, and the Seven-Hour Stand That Stalled Hitler’s Last Offensive
LANSEROTH RIDGE, Belgium — December 16, 1944.
At 5:30 a.m., in the freezing dark of the Ardennes forest, First Lieutenant Lyall B. crouched in a shallow foxhole carved into frozen earth. He was 20 years old. He had been in combat for just three months. And below his position, through drifting snow and early-morning fog, 500 German paratroopers were emerging from the trees.
Behind them lay the full weight of Hitler’s last gamble: the Battle of the Bulge.
Behind Lieutenant Bu and his 18-man intelligence and reconnaissance platoon, there was almost nothing — empty roads leading straight to Allied supply depots and headquarters. No reserves. No armor. No air support. And no realistic chance of reinforcement.
What Bu did have was one improvised asset that German intelligence had not anticipated: a single jeep mounting a .50-caliber Browning machine gun, acquired days earlier through an unauthorized trade of captured German documents.
By nightfall, that decision would delay an entire SS Panzer division, inflict nearly 100 casualties on elite German airborne troops, and produce one of the most lopsided small-unit actions of World War II.
The First Day of Hitler’s Offensive
The German artillery barrage had begun at 4:00 a.m., with 1,600 guns firing across an 80-mile front. The Ardennes, thinly held by inexperienced American divisions, was supposed to collapse within hours.
Lanzeroth Ridge guarded a critical road junction at the Losheim Gap — the northern gateway for the 1st SS Panzer Division, tasked with racing toward the Meuse River and ultimately Antwerp.
The Germans believed the ridge was defended by a light screening force. They were wrong — but not in the way they imagined.
Bu’s platoon, part of the 99th Infantry Division, had been ordered to hold a gap meant for an entire battalion. Each man carried an M1 Garand rifle. There was one BAR per squad. One .30-caliber machine gun.
And one jeep-mounted M2 Browning, positioned behind nine interconnected foxholes.
“Hold Your Fire Until 75 Yards”
At 7:15 a.m., the first German assault wave — roughly 170 paratroopers — reached the barbed wire fence below the ridge.
Bu waited.
When the Germans closed to 75 yards, he gave the order.
The .50-caliber machine gun fired first.
At that range, the effect was devastating. The opening burst killed 11 German paratroopers in seconds, ripping through winter uniforms and bodies alike. Rifle fire followed immediately — disciplined, aimed shots from men selected for their marksmanship.
After eight minutes, the first assault collapsed.
The snow in front of the ridge was already dotted with bodies.
Four Assaults, No Breakthrough
The Germans attacked again at 7:45 a.m., this time with flanking maneuvers and MG42 machine guns. They attacked a third time at 8:41, coordinating frontal and forest assaults while mortars rained down on the foxholes.
Each time, they were stopped.
The jeep-mounted Browning dominated the open field. The rifles controlled the wire. The BARs held the woods. Attempts to cut the fence ended in immediate casualties.
By mid-morning, German officers believed they were facing a reinforced American company with multiple heavy weapons.
In reality, they were fighting 18 exhausted soldiers who were rapidly running out of ammunition.
By 10:32 a.m., the .50-caliber fired its last rounds. The barrel glowed from heat. Ammunition boxes lay empty in the snow.
Still, the Germans could not break through.
A Decision That Defied Doctrine
By late morning, Bu’s platoon had fewer than 200 rifle rounds remaining. Some men had five shots left. Others had none.
At 11:09 a.m., Bu made a decision that violated every principle of reconnaissance doctrine.
Instead of conserving ammunition, he ordered his men to increase their rate of fire.
The logic was psychological.
As long as the Germans believed heavy firepower remained, they would hesitate. And it worked. The fourth German assault withdrew at 11:21 a.m., convinced fresh defenders had arrived.
The reality was far worse.
At 11:30 a.m., an ammunition count revealed 73 rounds total across the entire platoon.
The Final Assault
At 12:37 p.m., the Germans launched a fifth attack — 400 fresh paratroopers, advancing rapidly.
Bu distributed the remaining ammunition. Marksmen received priority. Others fixed bayonets.
The Americans held fire until 60 yards.
Every shot counted. Eleven Germans fell in the opening volley. But without the .50-caliber, the Germans advanced steadily.
At 1:14 p.m., the last rifle clip was fired.
At 1:26 p.m., German paratroopers overran the first foxhole.
Hand-to-hand combat followed — bayonets, knives, rifle stocks, entrenching tools. After nearly eight hours of continuous combat, Bu ordered his men to surrender.
They had done all that was possible.
The Cost — and the Delay
When the smoke cleared, 92 German paratroopers lay killed or wounded across the ridge.
The Americans suffered one killed and 14 wounded.
More importantly, the stand at Lanzeroth Ridge delayed the 1st SS Panzer Division by 16 hours — a catastrophic loss of momentum on the most critical day of the German offensive.
Instead of racing west, German armor arrived late, cautious, and behind schedule. The northern wing of the Battle of the Bulge never recovered.
Forgotten — Then Remembered
As prisoners of war, Bu and his men believed they had failed.
They spent months in German camps. Some died. Survivors returned home thin, wounded, and silent.
Their battle received almost no attention for decades.
It was not until 1981, after a 15-year campaign led by Bu and his former soldiers, that the U.S. Army formally recognized the action.
The platoon became the most decorated American unit of its size in World War II.
A Stand That Changed History
Eighteen men. One modified jeep. Seven hours on a frozen ridge.
They did not stop the German offensive alone.
But on December 16, 1944, they bent the course of history — long enough for the Allies to recover, regroup, and ultimately win.
And for decades, almost no one knew their names.
