All language subtitles for WWII_in_HD_S01E02.Hard_Way_Back.720p.BluRay

Previously, on World War II in HD.

America comes under attack.

An upstate New York farm boy Archie Sweeney ships out to fight the Germans in North Africa.

We have battleships and destroyers escorting us,

zigging and zagging to keep the u-boats from picking up our trail.

Now I wish I had learned how to swim.

While former college basketball standout Charles Scheffel

learns he will be battling Hitler's forces in coordination with the British.

I went to see the Brigadier.

He said: "We're going to make the invasion, on North Africa."

And in the pacific, combat reporter Richard Tregaskis experiences his first invasion with the Marines on Guadalcanal.

Snipers are everywhere and nowhere.

The sentries are firing at every noise.

Who knows what's out there?

Grant us a common faith that man shall know bread and peace,

That he shall know justice and righteousness, freedom and security,

an equal opportunity and an equal chance to do his best,

not only in our own lands but throughout the world.

Maybe the Japs can go without food and water for days.

But we can't.

Dysentery is starting to set in among the Marines.

For the past month, reporter Richard Tregaskis

and the 2nd Marines have been clinging to a patch of jungle surrounding Henderson airfield on Guadalcanal.

Fearful of losing its carriers to the Japanese fleet,

the American naval force that covered the landing has left earlier than expected.

They've taken with them unloaded food, ammunition, and men,

leaving the Marines on Guadalcanal vulnerable to Japanese attacks.

The scuttlebutt is flying.

Our patrol aircraft has spotted 14 Jap ships, transports, cruisers and destroyers,

heading to Guadalcanal.

God help us.

On the night of September 13th, over 3,000 Japanese troops attack an 840-man force of Marine raiders and paratroopers

defending a key ridge south of the airfield.

If the Japanese break through, the Americans will be overrun.

The next morning, more than 1,200 dead or dying Japanese soldiers

lie in contorted heaps upon the ground.

40 Marines have been killed.

Back at the command post, Richard Tregaskis has survived his first firefight.

He departs the post and climbs the ridge to survey the carnage.

The top of the knoll has been burned off,

black, burned patches where Jap grenades have burst.

Everywhere you can see hand grenade cartons, empty rifle shells, ammunition boxes.

I pass bodies of Marines and Japs,

sometimes tangled as they had fallen in a death struggle.

The Marines have survived the battle of bloody ridge.

But they are still short on food and water.

Tregaskis and the troops know that it's just a matter of time before the Japanese attack again.

My God, a whole harbor full of our guys, thousands of them.

We can't help but cheer as they come ashore.

Five weeks after leaving the Marines to fight alone on Guadalcanal,

the US navy finally breaks through the Japanese naval forces

and delivers reinforcements, food, and medicine.

But the fight for Guadalcanal is far from over.

These new guys talk tough and loud as they come ashore,

but they just don't know what they're walking into.

I wish I didn't know what they are about to find out.

After two months, I've seen enough, more than enough.

I hitch a ride out on an ongoing flight from Henderson field and get the hell out of here.

On his flight back to Hawaii, Tregaskis begins organizing his notes into a book,

a battle diary of the first terrible weeks of the Guadalcanal campaign.

I almost feel guilty about leaving.

The Marines could still lose down there.

The Japs have plenty of fight in them.

But I got to say, mostly I'm glad to be off that miserable, God-forsaken island.

Steaming through the Mediterranean sea, the immense convoy carrying corporal Archie Sweeney and 2nd lieutenant Charles Scheffel

closes in on the coast of North Africa.

The former Oklahoma A&M basketball star is on board a British transport.

We're gonna land in the second wave.

As nervous and excited as I feel, I don't have a clue what awaits us.

The code name for the invasion is "Torch".

The plan is to land 65,000 British and American troops in the French colonies of Morocco and Algeria.

The goal is to trap the Germans between the Anglo-American invasion armies and the British 8th army,

which has been chasing the Germans across North Africa toward Tunisia.

After undergoing ten weeks of special training in England,

Scheffel and the Americans under his command are now a part of a British provisional unit.

It will be the ROTC grad's first time commanding troops in battle.

The night before we were to land, I go below deck and chat with my men.

They're acting like excited kids.

I tell them to focus and stay ready.

Hours before Scheffel's convoy is due to land, German fighter planes attack.

I feel completely helpless.

I desperately want to get off this ship. It feels like a death trap.

As dawn breaks, Scheffel's ship limps into port, listing at 20 degrees.

Operation "Torch" has been a total surprise.

The Allies put 33,000 troops ashore near Algiers, including Charles Scheffel's unit.

Everything is a disorganized mess.

I have no map and no specific orders except to clear the dock

and engage any opposition that we might encounter.

I think the Brits just want us out of their hair.

While Scheffel and the rest of the American forces are relegated to rear positions,

British and American armored divisions push forward.

Within weeks, they are only about 20 miles from Tunis,

the Germans' chief port and main supply city.

But before the British can launch a decisive attack on the city,

German forces mount a furious assault, stopping the British in their tracks.

Behind the lines, Charles Scheffel grows impatient with his British superiors.

I'm ready to get into action, but we keep getting all the crap jobs

because the Brits don't seem to trust us much.

I want to rejoin the American army.

I am fed up, and after a heated exchange with my British brigadier,

we're told to just take off.

Well, God Damn, he won't have to say that twice.

I round up my men, and we head out to find the 9th.

This place has far too many men with too much gold on their shoulders and too little to do.

21-Year-old Wisconsin native June Wandrey volunteered for service immediately after Pearl Harbor,

leaving behind a job at the Mayo Clinic to become an army nurse.

At the time of the attack, the US army had less than 1,000 nurses in its ranks.

Now, 14 months later, that number is fast approaching 30,000.

The night before June leaves the training facilities in Michigan, she writes a letter home.

"They distribute our army-issued combat clothing:

Heavy underwear, fatigues, and raincoats, all of them in men's extra large sizes.

We're told this is what we will have to use

until they can find something more fitting.

My orders are to report to camp Kilmer in New Jersey.

From there, I will deploy to North Africa.

It's a relief to finally be leaving.

They need surgical nurses so badly over there."

At Kasserine Pass in Tunisia, Field Marshall Erwin Rommel lead the Africa Corps lashes out at the American forces.

The Americans are caught unprepared,

and quickly overwhelmed.

They sustain more than 6,000 casualties

before finally regrouping and halting the Germans.

The American military command swiftly relieves the officer responsible for the Kasserine fiasco,

and replaces him with highly decorated and aggressive Lieutenant General, George S. Patton.

After leaving the British units he landed with behind,

lieutenant Charles Scheffel is now with the 39th infantry regiment, under Patton's command.

He is ordered to lead his first patrol and scout German positions

well forward of the American lines in the mountains of Tunisia.

I take the guys out toward a distant ridge.

It's a strange feeling, being so exposed and vulnerable.

Unknown to Scheffel, a German machine gun nest positioned on a nearby hill has the area well covered.

As Scheffel's patrol reaches the top of a small ridge, the Germans open fire.

Scheffel and his men are pinned down with no hope of escaping.

I can hear screams and moans from my guys,

but we can't move to help them or even return fire.

Scheffel orders his men to stay calm and dig in.

I don't want them to panic and run.

We'll have to wait it out.

I've got the sinking feeling that we are on our own.

After an hour, the firing stops.

Some of the men are impatient.

I can't hear the enemy, but I'm not about to get shot looking for them.

The job of a soldier is to survive so he can fight.

That's not the job of his officer.

The job of an officer is to command.

You're the guy that got them into that mess.

You're the guy in command.

You're the guy that's obligated to get them out.

One kid yells: "Dig on!" He's only about ten yards away.

I order him to stay where he is. I tell him we'll move only when it's dark.

"But there's nobody out there." He says.

And off to my right, this damn kid stands right up.

Killed.

Right then and there.

And then I yelled at my men: "Damn it, don't anybody else stand up!

I'll get you guys out of here, because when it gets dark, they are gonna retreat."

So we laid there until the sun went down.

I feel so obligated.

that I didn't get up and tackle that kid.

We wave our way into the beautiful harbor in Oran.

It's time to say goodbye to the many friends I've made while crossing.

We all wonder: "What is our future, and how long will we live?"

After two weeks of zigzagging across the Atlantic to avoid German u-boats,

nurse June Wandrey's ship finally makes port in Algeria.

The beautiful view from the ship is blown away by the smell onshore.

It's overpowering, like being back in the dark ages.

Do people actually live in such filth and squalor?

It tears at your heart.

June and the rest of her medical battalion are immediately outfitted

and ordered to push east to join the fast-advancing Allied forces in Northern Tunisia.

When they arrive at their field hospital,

seven ambulances full of wounded men are already waiting for them.

Patients pour in from the front.

It's a mix of wounded, medical patients, and battle-fatigued soldiers.

Five nurses are on call, and one nurse, lucky me,

gets the 24-hour shift in the operating tent.

But you have to put aside your exhaustion

when you see what our boys are going through.

The wounded are happy to be missing only one arm or leg.

I'm glad I have lots of energy.

I'm not sure how the older nurses stand the pace.

By April 1943, Archie Sweeney is a long way from his hometown in Saranac Lake Village, New York.

Sweeney landed in North Africa in operation "Torch".

Now in Northern Tunisia with the 39th infantry regiment,

the corporal is taking a break between patrols.

"Hello dad,

Just a few lines to let you know I'm well and hope you all are too.

Finally got to use my machine gun.

Can't say that I much like using it to shoot against people,

but I'm sure glad I know how to.

It's very quiet here this evening.

I think the war may be coming to an end soon.

You should be receiving my check soon.

It'll be a little more than last time.

I won some money in a game and figured you could use it.

Well, time to turn in.

I sure do miss everyone.

Love, Archie."

Three weeks later, Sweeney's father receives his son's letter,

along with a telegram from the United States war department.

His 25-year-old son, Archie Sweeney, has been killed in action.

Due to the swirling confusion of combat,

the army is unable to document the cause of each and every fatality.

Because of this, Sweeney family will never know the details of his final moments.

This generation of Americans has come to realize with a present and personal realization

that there is something larger and more important than the life of any individual or of any individual group,

something for which a man will sacrifice, and gladly sacrifice,

not only his pleasures, not only his goods, not only his associations with those he loves, but his life itself.

By early 1943, the number of American casualties in all theaters of war reaches more than 65,000.

As Americans are forced to confront the sobering reality of the war,

reporter Richard Tregaskis' book "Guadalcanal Diary" hits the best-seller list.

His raw, unflinching descriptions of the men on the front lines

both frightens and captivates the American public,

bringing the reality and heroism of the war home to millions of people.

"There was a private first-class Ray Herndon.

He was hit badly and said to one of his buddies:

"You guys better move out. I'm done for, anyhow. I can get three or four..."

"Greensburg, Pennsylvania, Corporal Walter J. Burak, who twice during the night, has traversed the exposed crest..."

"Good story of valor."

Back in November of 1942, American naval forces sealed off Guadalcanal,

making it impossible for the Japanese to land reinforcements and supplies.

"John R. Morrill of Greenville, Tennessee, had been cut off from the rest of the Marines,

but somehow he walked..."

At 8:30 am, the Japs made a bayonet charge, but they were beaten back.

Now, in the first week of February 1943, 14 months after Pearl Harbor,

Guadalcanal is finally secured.

It is America's first major victory on land against the forces of Imperial Japan.

And for the first time, the relentless Japanese expansion has been stopped.

But the massive two-front war against the Axis powers is still only beginning.

What is the point of being in a war without seeing action?

I signed up to fight.

with one goal in mind: Ever since escaping the Nazis' clutches in Vienna,

he's wanted a chance to take the fight to Hitler.

But the 7th division is nowhere near any German forces.

They're in ships headed north to Alaska.

Werner is heading to his first combat, against the Japanese.

Werner has volunteered to be one of 200 select scouts,

part of a covert strike team that will become the opening thrust of a major operation

to retake the Alaskan islands of Attu and Kiska.

For over a year, the Japanese have occupied these remote, frozen islands

at the western edge of North America.

Their motives: a mystery.

Now intelligence reports that they are building large airstrips on Attu

that will allow them to better defend their Post-Pearl conquests in the pacific.

Werner and scout force slip ashore under cover of darkness.

The Japs have no idea that we're here.

In early March of 1943, the British 8th army pushes north into Tunisia,

while the Americans hammer at the Germans' western flank.

In the mountains near El Guettar, American artillery and infantry units,

including Scheffel's 39th regiment, push back a furious German counteroffensive.

For the first time, US forces defeat the seasoned German armored units in battle.

With no hope of holding their lines,

the Germans begin to retreat northward to the ports of Tunis and Bizerte.

The now battle-tested Charles Scheffel and the 39th regiment

pursue the enemy along the dusty ridges in Northern Tunisia.

They hope to catch the retreating Germans before the enemy can dig in.

We're moving along when we stumble on this group of Germans.

They have their hands in the air, and they're yelling: "Comrade, comrade."

They're just young enlisted men, filthy and scared, and they don't seem like much trouble,

so one guy with an automatic rifle and a full clip ought to be enough to guard them.

So I call over Kyleberger, and I tell him he's gonna have to take them back to battalion HQ alone.

Kyleberger comes walking back,

and I realize what just happened.

He just murdered those prisoners.

I put my hand on my gun.

I was ready to shoot him.

And one of my men said: "Sir, you don't know this, but he is a Jew."

He tells me his parents were killed by Nazis back in Germany.

What am I gonna do, send him back to HQ under arrest?

Our orders are to push on toward Bizerte, and I need every last man I can get.

So we push on.

The wind is nearly unbearable.

I feel a terrific thrill, just imagining what's to come.

On his first combat mission,

Sergeant Jack Werner and the scouts are hiking to a valley at the northern end of Attu Island.

Their mission is to prevent the Japanese from retreating,

once two larger American forces land on the bay, and push forward.

But the mountainous terrain makes the progress difficult.

It's tough going, and the men aren't in great shape.

Some are dropping their gear.

I see abandoned packs, gas masks, even ammo.

Then we get orders to drop our packs and take only one-day rations.

Who gives such orders?

I keep all of my equipment.

As the strike force reaches the narrowest part of the valley,

a thick fog settles over them.

Heavy machine gun fire penetrates the fog, pinning them down.

I yelled to the guys around me: "You see what those bastards are doing?

Let's get up and give them hell."

At first, I don't really I am actually trying to kill men.

I can't even see the Japanese.

They were shooting at us, but I never saw one,

face to face, maybe even a shadow.

It was the sudden down-pour of the rain. It was misty, nasty and dark...

Back on the shore, the 17th infantry regiment hits Attu's beaches unopposed.

But their vehicles struggle in the spring slush and mud.

Werner and his strike force are stranded without food, fire support, or contact with their command,

and the enemy keeps firing.

Where is the 17th?

They were supposed to be here within 24 hours.

Does anyone even know where we are?

Almost all of our munitions and food is gone.

Our troops never should have dropped their packs on the way up this miserable mountain.

Thank God I kept mine.

On Attu Island in the Aleutians, Jack Werner and the 7th division scouts are battling freezing cold,

hunger, and an enemy they can't see through the heavy fog.

Finally, a break in the clouds, and what a sight:

Our planes are diving low, attacking the Jap positions.

Our captain orders us to advance immediately.

As we break into the open terrain, we can see our troops.

The 17th is all around us.

One of their officers spots me and says: "The scouts?

By god, we thought you guys are all wiped out."

Frostbitten and half-starved, Werner and the scouts are sent behind the lines to recuperate.

While they are there, the remaining Japanese stage a final Banzai attack, killing 549 Americans.

But despite the bloody finale, American forces eventually secure both Attu and Kiska Islands

and for the first time reclaim American territory from the Japanese.

I am simply exhilarated.

Finally, I've had my chance to prove myself in combat,

and feel like a man who can carry his own.

I think that is what I learned.

I learned in the army and then got it reconfirmed in combat.

So it was a positive experience as far as I am concerned.

I hate to say that because many people got wounded and killed.

Why should it be positive for me?

But it was.

If we win this campaign, it will be more than just a victory over the Axis.

It will be a medical victory over disease and battle wounds.

One month after arriving in North Africa,

nurse June Wandrey's medical battalion is trailing the advancing American army near Bizerte.

It feels good knowing that we are making a difference.

But, I can't help wishing we can save them all.

An 18-year-old boy is carried into the shock ward,

and he looks up at me trustingly, asking: "How am I doing nurse?"

I just kiss his forehead and say: "You are doing just fine, soldier."

He smiles sweetly and says: " I was just checking."

Then he dies.

We all cry in private, but not in front of the boys.

Never in front of the boys.

We can see our planes dropping tons of bombs on the Germans.

All I can think is: "Give them hell, guys."

After pursuing the enemy across Northern Tunisia,

lieutenant Charles Scheffel and the 39th infantry regiment are closing in on the port city of Bizerte.

Allied airpower is destroying the Germans' supply lines to Italy and any hope of escape.

It's crazy and exhilarating, cheering at the death of our enemies.

After a week of relentless attacks from the air and ground,

the last vestige of the Nazis' hold on North Africa is crushed.

About mid morning, a long column of vehicles come up the road.

Strung out behind, there must be 50,000 German soldiers.

This is what's left of the invincible Germans.

On May 7, 1943, British troops march into the Capitol of Tunis,

while American forces enter the city of Bizerte.

Five months after launching the operation "Torch" landings,

the Allies have pushed the Germans out of the continent.

And the inexperienced Americans have proven themselves in their first major campaign against the Nazis.

There's joy in victory, knowing that we did what we came to do,

that I led my men into and out of combat.

But this, this was just one battle, and one battle ain't gonna win this war.

We're a very sad lot, not looking too good.

But what can you expect after so many weeks at sea?

Four months after helping to reclaim the Alaskan Island of Attu,

Jack Werner and the 7th division dock in the territory of Hawaii.

Now that he's had his first taste of combat, Werner is anxious for his next fight.

All I can think about is the war, what is it we're gonna do next,

who is gonna get killed, and how can we prepare ourselves?

In time of crisis, when the future is in the balance,

we come to understand with full recognition and devotion what this nation is.

The task that we Americans now face will test us to the uttermost.

Never before have we been called upon for such a prodigious effort.

Never before have we had so little time in which to do so much.

Those Americans who believed that we could live under the illusion of isolationism

wanted the American Eagle to imitate the tactics of the ostrich.

But we prefer to retain the Eagle as it is,

flying high and striking hard.

We, not they, will win the final battle,

and we, not they, will make the final peace.

The harder the sacrifice, the more glorious the triumph.