“They Said Black Soldiers Would Run” — But the 92nd Infantry Climbed the Mountain and Shattered the Nazi Line

“They Said Black Soldiers Would Run” — But the 92nd Infantry Climbed the Mountain and Shattered the Nazi Line

December 26, 1944. The cold mountains of the northern Apennines in Italy were hidden beneath a thick morning fog.

From his observation post on Monte Belvedere, German commander Oberst Hinrich von Schellenburg studied the approaching American troops through field glasses. His intelligence officer had briefed him with confidence.

“These are Negro troops,” the officer had said dismissively. “The Americans are sending their weakest soldiers.”

The soldiers advancing toward the Gothic Line belonged to the 370th Infantry Regiment of the U.S. Army’s 92nd Infantry Division—an all-Black combat division serving in a segregated military.

According to Nazi racial doctrine, African soldiers were inferior fighters who would break under fire. German propaganda had taught Wehrmacht soldiers to expect cowardice and surrender from Black troops.

But the men climbing the mountain carried something their enemy did not understand.

They had spent years fighting discrimination within their own army. They had trained with outdated equipment and under officers who doubted their ability to fight. They knew that failure would not only cost the battle—it would reinforce the racist assumptions of both enemies and allies.

They marched toward the Gothic Line carrying more than weapons.

They carried the weight of proving their humanity.

Within forty-eight hours, the German commander would send an urgent message to Field Marshal Albert Kesselring’s headquarters. It would force German officers to reconsider everything they believed about race and combat.

The laughter that greeted the arrival of Black American troops would die in the mountains.

The 92nd Infantry Division had been activated in October 1942 at Fort Huachuca, Arizona. Nearly fifteen thousand Black soldiers were organized into four infantry regiments. Their shoulder patch showed a black buffalo, honoring the historic Buffalo Soldiers of the U.S. frontier army.

Pride alone, however, could not overcome the obstacles they faced.

The U.S. Army remained segregated. Black soldiers lived in separate barracks, ate in separate mess halls, and often trained under white officers who doubted their competence.

Many of those officers openly expected them to fail.

Equipment shortages made matters worse. The division frequently received outdated rifles, worn vehicles, and limited ammunition for training.

At Fort Huachuca, temperatures soared above 110 degrees. Despite the harsh conditions and limited resources, the soldiers trained relentlessly.

They knew they would be judged more harshly than any other unit.

The racism they faced extended beyond the base. Nearby towns enforced strict segregation laws. Black soldiers in uniform were often refused service in restaurants and stores—even while German prisoners of war were served without question.

The contradiction was painful.

They were preparing to fight for freedom overseas while being denied basic rights at home.

In June 1944 the division received orders to deploy to Italy. Their objective would be one of the most formidable defensive systems in Europe: the Gothic Line.

Field Marshal Kesselring had spent two years building the defensive barrier across northern Italy’s mountains. The line stretched roughly 200 miles and included thousands of machine-gun nests, anti-tank positions, massive minefields, and miles of barbed wire.

The western anchor of the line stood at Monte Belvedere, a towering peak dominating the surrounding valley. From its summit, German observers could direct artillery fire across miles of terrain.

German commanders believed the mountain was nearly impossible to assault.

The slopes were steep, often approaching vertical rock faces. Machine-gun positions controlled every approach. Artillery had already been pre-registered for any potential advance.

German intelligence dismissed the Black American division assigned to attack it.

A German report declared that Black troops lacked combat motivation and would retreat once they encountered serious resistance.

Those assumptions would prove dangerous.

The attack began before dawn on December 26.

Company C of the 370th Infantry Regiment prepared to climb the icy slopes in total darkness. Each soldier carried nearly sixty pounds of equipment while attempting to scale mountains steep enough to challenge experienced climbers.

American artillery fired a brief barrage before the assault began.

Inside his bunker, the German commander was unimpressed.

The bombardment lasted only fifteen minutes.

He assumed the Americans were weak.

When the artillery stopped, silence followed for half a minute.

Then voices shouted through the darkness.

“Move out!”

The Buffalo Soldiers began climbing.

The slopes averaged forty-five degrees, forcing soldiers to pull themselves upward with both hands. Some sections were even steeper. Men gasped for breath as they climbed, stopping only seconds before pushing forward again.

At 6:23 in the morning, German machine guns opened fire.

MG-42 weapons swept the mountain with devastating speed. Mortar shells exploded across the slopes.

Men fell immediately.

But the attackers did not retreat.

Instead, they continued advancing in small groups, using fire-and-maneuver tactics despite the intense gunfire.

At 6:47, the Americans reached the German wire defenses.

Explosive Bangalore torpedoes blasted open gaps in the barbed wire. As German defenders threw grenades into the openings, American soldiers rushed forward.

Private Vernon Baker charged a machine-gun nest that threatened to stop the attack. Fighting alone, he killed the entire crew and opened the path for his squad.

Elsewhere on the mountain, Company B attacked along a nearly vertical rock face the Germans had considered impassable. Using ropes and sheer determination, the soldiers climbed the cliff under cover of darkness.

By 7:15 in the morning, they reached the summit ridge.

German defenders were stunned.

When the German commander received reports that Black American troops had reached the summit, he initially refused to believe them.

But the reports were accurate.

He ordered an immediate counterattack.

More than a hundred German assault troops surged toward the American positions. The fighting that followed descended into brutal close-quarters combat. Soldiers used rifles, grenades, and even entrenching tools when ammunition ran out.

Staff Sergeant Reuben Rivers led a desperate defense before being killed while holding his position.

The counterattack failed.

The Americans held the summit.

By the afternoon, additional units joined the fight. Artillery observers on the peak directed heavy fire onto German positions below.

The battle continued for two days.

German counterattacks came again and again, but the Americans refused to retreat.

Food ran out. Water froze in canteens. Men fought through exhaustion and freezing temperatures.

By December 28, the summit of Monte Belvedere was firmly in American hands.

The western anchor of the Gothic Line had been broken.

The cost was enormous.

Hundreds of soldiers were killed or wounded. Some companies were reduced to a fraction of their original strength.

Yet the attack had succeeded where German commanders had assumed Black troops would fail.

German intelligence quickly revised its assessments.

A January 1945 report acknowledged that Black American units fought with determination equal to any Allied troops and accepted casualties that would break weaker formations.

The campaign continued through the brutal winter.

In February 1945, the 92nd Division joined forces with the 442nd Regimental Combat Team—a Japanese-American unit also fighting to prove its loyalty to the United States.

Together they assaulted another key objective: Monte Castello.

By dawn, both units had reached the summit simultaneously, overwhelming the German defenders.

Within days the entire western sector of the Gothic Line collapsed.

The breakthrough opened the way for Allied forces to advance into northern Italy and ultimately forced the German surrender in Italy in May 1945.

The Buffalo Soldiers had shattered both the German defenses and the racist assumptions behind them.

Recognition came slowly.

Several soldiers were recommended for the Medal of Honor during the war, but most awards were downgraded or delayed. It would take more than fifty years before many of those honors were finally approved.

When Vernon Baker eventually received the Medal of Honor in 1997, he was the only surviving member among those recognized.

The soldiers of the 92nd Division returned home to an America that still enforced segregation. Many faced discrimination despite their service and sacrifices.

Some were even attacked for wearing their uniforms.

Yet their achievements helped strengthen the argument for ending segregation in the U.S. military. In 1948, President Harry Truman issued Executive Order 9981, officially desegregating the armed forces.

Today Monte Belvedere stands quiet.

A memorial marks the place where the Buffalo Soldiers proved what their enemies—and even some of their own commanders—had refused to believe.

They had been told they could not fight.

They had been given the most difficult mission.

They had been expected to fail.

Instead, they climbed the mountain, broke the Gothic Line, and changed history.