When the 35th Infantry Division climbed out of their foxholes below Saint Lo In early August of 1944, mounted trucks and began the super blitz down the Contentin Peninsula, there was no one as exhilarated as Major William G. Gillis, Jr. . He had been Assistant G-3 at Division Headquarters. He was a good staff officer but always his heart and mind were with the troops. His ambition was to command a battalion of Infantry. Now he was doing it—the 1st Bn., 320th Infantry Regiment.

Morale was extremely high as Bill and his men dashed thirty-five miles an hour on the smooth highways of France. Men were smiling for the first time in weeks. The hedgerows had been tough.

But this aspect of good humor, if one can exist in battle, was short lived. Suddenly the Germans launched their great counterattack in the direction of Mortain-Avranches. Their deadly purpose was the splitting of the First and Third American Armies and throwing the highly successful Operation “Cobra” into confusion.

The Germans attacked fanatically at Mortain, the key road junction. Temporarily the 30th Division fought them to a standstill. As Hitler’s Legions inched forward and occupied Mortain, a brave battalion of the 30th was surrounded on high ground, Hill 317, just east of this vital town.

Into this grave situation the 35th suddenly found itself committed. Slowly the Division advanced, not only stopping the German attack on its front but pushing the crack S.S. troops back to the Mortain-Barenton Highway. Then came the order to make a frontal assault on Hill 317 and relieve the courageous battalion of the 30th. To accomplish this herculean task, Major General Paul W. Baade, the Division Commander, had only one remaining fresh battalion, the 1st Bn., 320th Infantry, commanded by one of the youngest battalion commanders in the United States Army—Bill Gillis.

As a good commander, Bill analyzed his mission and looked over his tools. He was calm and serious. He realized that here in his first battle as a commander he was faced with a situation that would have been most perplexing to a veteran. But failure in his mission never once occurred to him. Not once did he doubt the ability of his men; men who idolized him because they knew that he would ask nothing of them that he would not do himself; men who knew that when the going was toughest Major ‘‘Bill” would be with them.

But little did Bill and his men realize as they assaulted the heights of Hill 317 that they were fighting one of the great battles of the war. Shells from the 35th Artillery filled the air as they whizzed overhead. P-47s bombed and straffed only four hundred yards ahead as Bill and his battalion fought their way forward. Nightfall of the first day found them at the foot of Hill 317.

Throughout the night and most of the next day the situation remained fluid. For hours it was questionable as to whether Bill was surrounded himself or was he accomplishing his mission. At the time he was moving among the forward elements, exposing himself to the dangers his men were so familiar with. At dawn the next day, tired but happy, Bill reported that he had accomplished his mission. He had broken through the German lines and relieved the beleaguered but valiant battalion of the 30th Division.

But that is not the end of Bill’s first big battle. After V-E Day certain members of the German General Staff stated that the war was lost when the counterattack at Mortain failed.

For this courageous achievement Bill’s Battalion and his attached Tank Battalion received the coveted Distinguished Unit Citation. For Bill there was a Silver Star, his first of many decorations. The citation read, in part:

Throughout this action, Major Gillis, although himself wounded in the hand, accompanied leading elements of his battalion and inspired the troops under his command by his skillful leadership, tenacity of purpose, courage, coolness, positive action and utter disregard for personal safety.”

But being a leader was nothing new for Bill Gillis. From the time he was born in Cameron, Texas, on October 7, 1917, to Judge and Mrs. Graham Gillis, until he was mortally wounded in action in the Foret de Gremecy, France, on September 30, 1944, he was out in front. As a youngster he was well built, and with the years he developed particularly broad shoulders and a good height. With such a physique it was only natural that he should be singled out among his contemporaries.

Bill’s early life in Cameron was that of a normal, healthy Texas lad. With his physical prowess there came the natural desire to be a scrapper. Joe Smith, John S. Burns, and a few other Cameron lads can well testify to Bill’s ability.

But along with Bill’s ability to take care of himself in a tussle, there was a boyhood trait of mischievous good humor. From the time that Bill set off fire crackers under the house of a certain socially prominent family during an elegant dinner party, the history of Cameron is replete with his escapades.

Bill also had his serious moments as a youngster, Boy Scouts received his early attention. When Judge Gillis pinned the Eagle Scout badge on his son, Bill was one of the youngest Eagle Scouts in Texas.

In high school Bill developed his leadership naturally. He was constantly among the honor students of his class, a leader of student government; won his letter for three years in football, and engaged in many other school activities. It was also in high school that Bill developed his love for Shakespeare with a modern touch. “Prithee, canst thou go with me to the shindig this eventide?” became his way of inviting his best girl to a dance.

At the age of nine Bill acquired his dog, “Jimmie”. Bill and Jimmie were inseparable pals. Nothing was too good for Jimmie and even on his birthdays Bill would throw a party for him, complete with candles and all the fixings. The last party that Bill had for Jimmie was typical and the cake had nine candles. While Bill was away at Schreiner Institute and West Point, Jimmie was not left to a lonely dog’s life, but cared for by Becky, Bill’s colored nurse, who had helped raise Bill from the day that he was born. Finally, late in the summer of 1944, as if in a last gesture of loyalty to his master, Jimmie died from natural causes on the very same day that Bill was killed.

When Bill arrived at West Point in July, 1937, his roommate termed him a “tall, handsome, confused product of Texas”. Needless to say, the football and track coaches had their eyes on him from the very first day. Back at Cameron High he had captained the football team and was the mainstay of the track team; while at Schreiner Institute in Kerrsville, Texas, he was again captain of the football team, starred in track and was an honor student. Yet with all the honors of the past, Bill was not so sure of his future. “Beast Barracks” was rugged, strict and few moments were available for the carefree life with which Bill was so accustomed. But only a few months of cadet life were necessary to instill into him the spirit of West Point and he soon became one of the most popular men in his class.

In addition to his popularity, Bill was a good student at the Military Academy, continued his athletic pursuits and in 1940 again found himself Captain of his team, this time the Army Football Team. In addition, in the spring of 1941, just before graduation, Bill set two new Academy records in the high and low hurdles. One of these records still stands.

With graduation Bill turned his eyes back to Texas where he violated West Point custom and tradition by marrying his hometown sweetheart, Lenore Riley, the prettiest secretary that Governor Coke Stevenson ever had. Lenore is now living in Cameron, Texas, with Bill’s mother, his faithful colored nurse, Becky, and his daughter, Georgia, who was born at Camp Rucker, Alabama, in 1943.

When Bill and his class graduated in 1941, the world was tightly in the claws of war and the only question was how long would the United States be able to remain out of the holocaust. Preparing for all eventualities, the War Department sent Bill and his Infantry classmates to the Infantry School at Fort Benning for a quick look at their branch. Then Bill joined the 2nd Inf. Div. at Fort Sam Houston, Texas, for a short period. Already his soldierly qualities were being recognized and soon Bill found himself assigned to the Infantry Training Center at Camp Roberts, California. It was here that one of his enlisted men wrote of him:

“Lieut. Gillis was the soldier and gentleman that I aspired to be like while in training at Camp Roberts in 1942 and ‘43. He was truly the finest soldier I have ever known and along with it a prince of a gentleman. I only wish that I might have gone with him into battle. We who knew him will never forget his familiar tall figure marching at the head of the company—the friend and ideal of every man in the column. “

Shortly after Bill joined the 35th Division his sterling qualities again began to come into prominence. As Assistant S-3 of the 320th Infantry Regiment he did such a fine job that soon the Division Commander called him to be Assistant G-3 of the Division Staff. Bill was a soldier and he accepted the order, but in his fine, personable way, he extracted a promise that someday he would be given command of troops. It was this promise, which Bill insisted on being kept, that led to his being placed in command of his battalion just before the crucial battle of Mortain.

With the German thrust safely turned at Mortain, Bill led his battalion throughout the remainder of August, 1944, as the 35th Division spearheaded General Patton’s Third Army sweep through Central France. War was almost a lark for those few days, and seeing the freedom-loving people of France liberated was one of the rewards of the great struggle to Bill. His carefree, happy manner endeared him to the populace of every town he took. In the middle of September when Bill faced the German stand on the Rhine-Marne Canal and the Sanon River at Dombasle below Nancy, he was a veteran battalion commander of only forty-five days’ experience, twenty-six years old; yet he was the model for dash, vigor, aggressiveness and leadership. It was here that he received the Distinguished Service Cross with the citation:

“For extraordinary heroism in connection with military operations against an armed enemy. On 15 September 1944, Major Gillis commanded the 1st Battalion, 320th Infantry, during the crossing of the Rhine-Marne Canal and the Sanon River. The enemy stubbornly opposed the crossing with strong forces of infantry which were dug in at close range, and by mortar and machine-gun fire from commanding positions on the hills. During the crossing, which was made by direct assault over improvised bridging constructed under intense direct enemy fire, Major Gillis was regularly present with the leading elements of his troops, moving freely among them to direct the attack. Disregarding his own safety he waded and swam across the river and canal several times under heavy enemy fire. His courageous leadership and exemplary conduct under fire so inspired his men that they were able to force the crossing successfully against heavy odds. His heroic accomplishment and zealous devotion to duty reflect the highest credit upon himself and the military forces of the United States.”

With the rivers and canals south of Nancy crossed, the Germans evacuated this great French city rather than lo be encircled. Bill led his battalion on to the east until he occupied a critical sector of the Division front in the Forest de Gremecy.

On the morning of 30 September 1944, the Germans launched a heavy counterattack. Bill, being the keen soldier that he was, sensed the action as the first rounds began to fall. Immediately he went forward to his very front lines to check his positions and to be sure that his men were of good courage. He knew that they would expect to see him. It was there among his fighting men that Bill was mortally hit by a tree burst from an enemy mortar shell.

Due only to a technicality of the table of organization, Bill was never promoted to lieutenant colonel. There were no vacancies. Concerning this and Bill, General Baade wrote:

“I cannot say too much about Bill for he was one of the finest, bravest officers I have ever known … His promotion to lieutenant colonelcy was on my desk at the time of his death, and but for that he would have been a lieutenant colonel by now. I am very sorry that the law prohibits any posthumous promotions, for if anyone was ever entitled to it, Bill certainly was.

Bill’s final combat citation for the Bronze Star medal read in part:

“For heroic service...in the vicinity of the Foret de Gremecy, France, on 27, 28 and 29 September 1944...For a period of two days until he was killed by enemy mortar fire while in the area of one of his front line companies, Major Gillis led the attack of his battalion with tireless energy, inspiring his troops by his constant presence at the front, and displaying sound tactical judgment which resulted in repulsing numerous German counterattacks...

In addition to his Distinguished Service Cross, Silver Star, Bronze Star Medal and Purple Heart, Bill was awarded the Distinguished Service Order by the British Government, the Croix de Guerre with Silver Gilt Star and the Croix de Guerre with Vermillion Star by a grateful France.

World War II presented many unusual circumstances for which few young Americans were prepared morally, spiritually or psychologically. In retrospect, however, Bill Gillis was prepared. He seemed to comprehend the situation and had the courage and character to take his place in the ranks where he was needed most. In addition to attaining distinction for his soldierly qualities, he was also the highest type of Christian citizen. He was a devout Presbyterian. He personified a man’s man as well as a soldier’s soldier.

There were many majors in the United States Army but there were few that could lead a battalion in battle successfully from the very first day of command. That was the type of leader on which the fate of this nation rested during the crucial days of 1944, and that was the leadership which Bill Gillis realized was needed, knew he could give, and gave above and beyond the call of duty.

—M. A. S.